AN: The story idea came a year ago (November of last year) and I started writing it...but then the document got deleted before I could ever finish it...poo. Anyways, the thing struck me after watching too many Christmas specials after another and I just happened to be motivated enough to rewrite it. So, let's try to pull off another cliche...whoo! Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer-I can only claim to have borrowed the names and setting for these characters, they're already pretty AU and last time I checked, Gabriella was too pure to even say "darn" in the movie. However, all else belongs to the multi-billion franchise familiarized as Disney.

"Um....Timmy, hun, please please stop crying! Santa was only kidding!"

"No he wasn't."

"Shut up 'Santa'...sir," I huffed, turning around and forcing myself to smile at the family of four, "...You all have a lovely Christmas!"

Troy shifted in his seat and scratched at the side of his fake white beard, "When's lunch again?"

I ignored him completely, "Must you always go out of character—"

"HO HO HO!" Troy interrupted with a frown, bellowing passionately and grimacing under his get up, "Santa thinks he needs a milk and cookies BREAK really SOON!"

Frowning, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. I can't believe this. Out of all the possible, more willing volunteers, they picked freaking Troy Bolton, jerk-face extraordinaire, to replace the actor for Santa Claus at the Albuquerque town mall. Pete Sanders, a forty year old volunteer, had already gotten the part, but apparently he got food poisoning last minute and couldn't make it the week before Christmas. What I really couldn't believe though was why I bothered to stick with my job as "Santa's Little Helper" even after I found out he got the part. But I do get to wear prosthetic pointy ears. Whoo.

"Why did you even take the job if you think its so stupid?" I whispered under my breath, waving off another small child nearly in tears, "Plus, you suck at it."

"Did you see that last kid?!...ahem, HO HO HO!—He looked constipated! I thought he was going to pee on my knee—HO HO HO! Merry Christmas!" Troy argued in between lines, then beckoning a small girl next in line to come over. "I am so freaking hungry though! When the hell—lo....hello...Merry Christmas little girl! Ho ho ho...ho...what's your name kid?"

The small girl climbed up on Troys lap and I admit, he looked adorable with his red hat...It's disgusting how even I can make myself believe that.

"My name's Cori," she smiled, holding up five fingers. "I'll be this many on Christmas eve."

"Good for you," Troy smiled, "I, uh, don't have enough fingers to show you how old I am."

Cori giggled and poked Troy's faux belly, "Dat means I get extra presents right Santa? Because id'll also be my birfday when you come to my house...my Mommy's house, not Daddy's house dough..."

"That's...great. I'll try to remember Cori," Troy rolled his eyes. I felt like slapping him. Poor girl, she can't even tell how much this charade is getting out of hand. "Just tell Santa what you want for Christmas...and your birthday," he quickly added before he could be corrected again.

"I would like a Barbie city town house, da new digital Easy Bake oven–wid da inclooded cake mixes, a new kitty name Lui—dat's spelled L-U-I, cause dat's da only way I know how to spell it..." Cori continued to go on before Santa finally bothered to stop her.

"Alright Cori...Ho ho ho. I'll make sure your on my list, since I have to, er, check it twice and whatever," Troy smiled through his beard, patting her head, "Ho ho ho. Now look straight at the camera and smile big."

"B-but!" she pulled on his coat sleeve, "I haven't even telled you what I wants for my birfday!"

"Say Merry Christmas!"

There was a flash and a clicking from the photographer before I escorted Cori back to her mother. Once I returned, I nodded towards Bill, the mall's seasonal photographer, before tugging Troy out of his big red chair, and apologizing to everyone still in line.

"I'm afraid Santa has to take his milk and cookies break," I said in a false cheery voice, "We'll be back in about forty five minutes, but don't you worry boys and girls! Santa will be extra happy after he comes back from his break!" Pfffft. Waving to those who bothered to wave goodbye, I curtsied and led Troy to the back room where it's supposedly my job to help him out of the suit.

"Finally! How long do we seriously have to do this?" he complained, tugging at the suspenders around the pillow we used for his stomach "I'm starving and all those kids are so damn spoiled. And how the hell do they even remember all the names of those damn toys?...and-ugh! Why the hell can't I ever get this fucking thing off?! Gabriella! I thought you're paid to get me out of this damn thing!"

"None of us are paid, idiot. We all volunteered for Christmas spirit." I rolled my eyes, standing up from the small chair in the corner of the dressing room, "And you know," I mumbled, "I thought Santa Claus was supposed to be jolly."

"I thought elves were supposed to be cute."

I sighed, "Shut up Troy, tomorrow's Christmas eve. It'll be our last day in this get up. Deal with it."

"Whatever," he muttered.

We left the dressing rooms through the back door shortly after, where I slowly parted myself as far away from Troy as possible. The two of us, unfortunately, were both heading to the food court, before we finally ran in Sharpay Evans, daughter of mall owner, Neil Evans. And by running into "us"...I meant, nearly shoving me into the fountain and purposely throwing herself at Troy.

"Oh Trooooy!" she waved frantically, receiving unnecessary attention. "Are you on your break?"

"Uh," Troy scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah...?"

Sharpay giggled and batted her eye lashes, "Would you like to eat lunch with me, Troy? I can get you one hundred percent discounts." She smirked, "I mean, you must be just so tired from working with kids all day, Troy. Three minutes per brat sounds like agony, Troy. I admire you SO much, Troy. I bet you'd be such a good father, Troy." Sharpay began to rub his upper arm flirtatiously, subconsciously licking her lips.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed my way through a crowd of people before reaching the food court. Unfortunately, I was barely half way through my sandwich before Sharpay's shrill voice was in hearing distance again.

"Oh Troy! you're just such a talented actor, Troy. Y'know I'm an actress too, Troy. We could, like, perform together....." blah blah blah blah..."And it was such a pity, Troy. Y'know Troy? I mean, I was just trying to be generous and stuff by giving Pete the fruitcake, but he just starts vomiting! Do you know how that felt Troy? Cause it hurt Troy...a lot. But I guess it's ok, since now you got to replace him Troy. I didn't even like Pete, Troy....Did you, Troy?"

I bit into my sandwich and hesitantly turned around in curiosity. Troy and Sharpay were about three tables behind me, and "Santa" looked ready to rot and die in his seat. Ha. Serves him right.

It's funny really, in that twisted sense of humor sort of way. I don't think Troy and I have ever really "gotten along", not since fourth grade actually. He's just got this insane ability to make me angry with just one look. One lift of an eyebrow or twitch of a smile would set me off. It's absurd and irrational, and I have no idea why. It just is.

The only real reason I've ever really bothered with Troy was because he was best friends with my best friend. If that makes sense. I met both Chad and Troy when I moved to Albuquerque with my mom. I was nine and they were already ten. Troy teased me for being the youngest in the class. Chad pushed him into the playground slide for being mean to me. End of story. Since then, Chad has been the Hershey bar to my s'more, the bottle to my water, the remote to my tv, the sock to my other sock. Troy, well, he was just there to bug me.

"Gabriella! It's 12:30! Get your pretty ass back to the dressing rooms!"

I sighed, "Troy, shut the hell up...you're, once again, ruining the illusion for everyone else who actually cares."

Forcefully pulling my arm and making me abandon what was left of my meal, Troy tugged me back to the set, "Please don't say my name in the next hour..."

"Troy," I grinned, "I didn't know you even knew the word 'please' existed, Troy. Good for you, Troy. Troy, why don't you—"

"Crazy bitch," he muttered, "I wanted to puke all over her before I even bought my friggin' lunch."

"Oh, Troy. Sharpay's not SO bad, Troy."

"Shut up. I hate you now."

"Lovely. Just what I want for Christmas."

-

For the week before Christmas, the mall was scheduled to close early, supposedly to enhance last minute gift shopping during the day. Chad was our ride for the night, and being his fashionably late self, I was left to sit out in the cold—freezing cold—with a thin jacket, on the front entrance of the mall, next to Troy. Yay me.

"Why is Santa even fat? He works all year to make toys and can't bother to lose weight?!"

"Traditional Santa is overweight because he'll gain all the weight back on the sweets people leave him on Christmas eve," I explained as calmly as possible.

"But why—"

"I swear if Chad doesn't get here in the next few seconds..." Suddenly, a car pulled in and I was already calling shotgun before anything else unfortunate could happen.

"Chad Hayden Danforth!" I scolded, "What the hell took you so long that you made me suffer a good extra half hour with that thing back there?!" I could hear Troy snickering before I chucked one of my gloves at him.

"You know this means you're not getting this back."

"Be quiet Troy," Chad shook his head and focused on the road, not bothering to hide his smirk, "You two should just make out already and get it over with."

Pouting, I crossed my arms over my chest and slouched, "Don't you dare change the subject Danforth. I asked you a question."

He sighed, "My mom's just been pressuring me to pack. We're heading to New York for the holidays later tonight."

"Ugh...I nearly forgot...Do you really have to go to New York for Christmas this year," I whined dramatically, "Who else am I going to steal pieces of pumpkin pie with? Who'll sneak bits of your mom's stuffing out of the turkey? Who'll remind me not to over eat on mashed potatoes?!"

"Gabs," Chad began, "Of all the things you'll miss about me, you're seriously only worried on not having an annual food crime? I'm offended." I don't smile. "I get that this is the first Christmas we haven't hung out together. But I'm actually pretty excited about this one. I barely get to see my extended family. And my cousin just had a baby. As in a smaller form of human!"

"Fine." I stuck out my tongue.

"It's no big deal dude," Troy interjected, wiggling his eyebrows from the back seat, "That means Gabs and I here can have our own holiday fun—"

I ended up going home with frozen bare hands that night.

My mom had actually been out on a business trip since a few weeks ago. After being loyal to the company for nearly two decades, you'd think they'd let up on her working hours. But nooooooo, she'd been assigned for some fancy meeting in Chicago til Christmas Eve.

Not long after, I was gorging myself on potato chips while watching an alphabetical Christmas movie marathon. So far, I was on E, and Will Ferrel was starring as Buddy the Elf. I was barely through the movie when the phone rang though. "You stink. You smell like beef and cheese! You don't smell like Santa." Groaning, I paused the film and trudged towards the phone.

"Hello?"

"Gabby! Hi, it's mom." I heard over the phone.

Adjusting my position on the couch, I munched on another chip, "Oh hey Mama! Are you on your flight home yet?"

"Hun, um," there's a crackling sound over the other line, "I don't think I'll be able to make it for the holidays."

I nearly choked on a chip, and I actually wondered whether my mother would try harder getting home if I told her I just died from eating a snack food. "B-but why?"

She sighed, "There's a huge blizzard here and it's not letting up until after Christmas day. They've basically called off all flights getting out of Chicago. I'm really sorry honey."

"It's fine mom," I hold back a sob, "We'll still be able to celebrate when you get back...right?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you when I get home. Love you. Remember to call your dad and wish him happy holidays too."

"Yeah, I will. Love you, too... bye mom."

I chucked the phone across the other side of the room. Groaning, I turned off the tv, not feeling like watching the rest of the movie anymore. I practically just laid there for the rest of the night. Chad had probably left by now. Mom wasn't coming home. But I have absolutely no idea what sick form of Christmas magic got me out the door at nearly one in the morning.

"Troy! Open the damn door! I know you're in here!"

For some miraculous reason, I ended up running barefoot in seasonal red and green pj bottoms two blocks away to Troy's house. Cursing myself for not even wearing socks for that matter, I rubbed my upper arms feverishly. "TROOOY—"

"What. The hell. Are. You. Doing."

The door ended up wide open with Troy only in boxers and a wife beater leaning against the frame. I frowned, holding my sweatshirt against my arms. His eyebrows were drawn together and his arms were crossed menacingly. Psh. Menacing my ass.

"I wanted to talk to you," I blurted, standing as stiffly as possible.

"At freaking two in the morning?!"

"It's only one fifteen, genius."

Troy sighed, "You could've woken up my parents you know..."

"Oh shut up," I rolled my eyes, "You know your parents love me...Look Troy, I-I just needed—"

"I know, I know," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "I didn't think you'd be that eager, but if you really wanted to see me that bad. Then we can just head up stairs and..."

I groaned, Troy at the moment, would be the only one who'd understand this stupid predicament I'd ended up in. He knew about my mom's job and had always been last resort to listen, but like he is as Santa, he sucks. I nearly wanted to cry, pulling my head back agonizingly I noticed—

Mistletoe. Shit.

"Uh...um. Th-there's, er...yeah...uh, T-t-t..." I fiddled with my thumbs, shifting my weight on each foot. Damn it. Why the hell couldn't I talk? Most of the time, I end up kissing my cousin Owen's cheek every year anyways. But he just turned six. "Hehehe...yeah..."

"What the fuck is it?"

It's strange really, he kind of looked attractive. But then again, it was dark, in the middle of the night, and freezing cold. I frowned, "Do you purposely put up mistletoe over your front door because you're cocky, or did you just feel like intimidating me again?"

"What?" Troy raised an eyebrow. Rubbing the back of his neck, he finally looked up. "Oh. That."

I watched him carefully, noticing him slowly lean down. I gulped- this was it. After seventeen years, two months, and twelve days I'd be experiencing my first kiss with Troy friggin Bolton. But for some bizarre reason, that didn't sound that bad. It's not like Troy's severely disfigured. He's just a jackass with his head occasionally in the gutter. That's all. Hot. (whaaaat?!) His eyes flickered to my lips before regaining eye contact. Troy smirked, and I closed my eyes. I could feel his breathe on my face before I leaned in myself,

"Did you always have a freckle on your chin?" What the fuck?!

"What?" I opened my eyes and nearly fell backwards after realizing how close we were.

Troy laughed cruelly, it was almost disturbing to see him crack up after humiliating myself. "What?" he mocked carelessly, "Did you actually think I'd kiss you?"

"W-what?! What are-"

"Is that the only word in your vocabulary today Gabriella" he smirked.

"B-b-but it's tradition t-to..." I cursed myself for stuttering and felt my cheeks flush red. Rubbing my arms through my winter coat, I bit my lip and sighed, "I thought it's, uh, tradition and whatever to kiss under the mistletoe."

He raised an eyebrow, "Does it look like I actually give a fuck?" Troy laughed again, watching me fidget uncomfortably, "My mom puts shit like that up. It's not like it actually means anything. When has anyone actually 'kissed under the mistletoe'. Jesus Gabriella, you've got to stop reading those romance novels you happen to just enjoy so much." He smirked again and teasingly poked my forehead.

Still flustered, I blushed and stepped backwards. "It's not like I actually wanted to kiss you. Ha...right."

I watched Troy lean forward once more and whispered in my ear, "Oh I think you did Gabriella."

Pushing away, I frowned, narrowing my eyes, "Psh. Psh. PSH. Uh.... no thanks."

"Whatever Gabriella," he rolled his eyes, "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

-

I woke up that morning wanting to cry. Fuck Troy. Yeah. That's right. Fuck. Him.

"Alright....Great, great...yeah, ok. That's great kid. I'll get you whatever you want. Just, erm, be nice and shi...shtuff. Stuff. Be nice and stuff."

Troy patted the last small boy away, before I had to halt the line again. "I'm sorry kids," I said halfheartedly, "Santa needs to go on his milk and cookies break again. He'll be back soon." Slowly, I then made my way to the back room and as always, sat in my chair at the corner of the room.

"Hey," Troy poked, pulling off his red hat, "What's got your panties in a knot?"

"Leave me alone Troy," I choked.

"Look, Gabs," he ran a hand through his hair and tugged off his beard, "If this is about not being 'realistic' and shit again. I know I can probably try harder, but I'm not cut out for this sort of stuff...you know that..."

"It's not that," I sniffed, "Something just...just happened last night."

"Oh." Troy bit his lip and crouched to my seated height. "Then...is this about the thing at the door? You know I was just kidding Gabriella, I just—"

"I''m gonna be alone for Christmas."

"What?" he looked flustered. Rubbing the back of his neck, he breathed, "Guess this means your mom's not coming?"

"No dip."

He hesitantly sat next to me, "I...I-I'm..so—"

"I just want a traditional holiday for once y'know?" I rambled, "I always feel so left out when I celebrate with Chad. His family's just so close and...Mom's never home and...and...Last night, I don't know...I guess I just really really wanted to talk to someone. And you were there. And...I..."

"Oh come on Gabriella," Troy chuckled, "Don't you think you're being kind of melodramatic? You're acting like there's actually a lot of people that wanted to celebrate with you...."

Ouch.

"Hm...That's funny," I sighed and got up, pulling my hat over my ears. "I actually thought I'd be willing to sink to wanting to spend Christmas with you," I said, leaving Troy to deal with his suit by himself.

-

Whoo! It's Christmas! Yeah! The house is empty!.....yeah. I ended up greeting myself to a lovely Christmas morning and a breakfast that consisted of Cap'n Crunch Cereal and toast. Around midday, however, I ended up finding Troy on my doorstep carrying a small box, a banana, and a Santa hat.

"Um....can I help you?"

He smiled sheepishly, and I swore I caught a flush of red on his cheeks, "Ho ho ho." He smiled, real smile, "Happy Christmas."

"Hi...?" I bit my lip, "Do you want to, uh, come in or something?"

Troy shrugged, "Only if you'll let me."

I motioned him inside and let him sit next to me on our living room couch. Twiddling my thumbs, I breathed out heavily, "What do you want?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm Santa Claus," he explained, holding out the poorly wrapped present.

"I thought you were supposed to come last night," I said monotonously, not bothering to look at him.

"Yeah, well....better late then never."

I don't smile.

"I'm sorry," Troy sighed, "I'm a jackass, I know. I didn't think you would take it seriously...you normally don't. It's just, maybe, ok...Look, I just, this is...This is new to me. I've known you for like, seven, eight years now...right?" He was rubbing the back of his neck, and playing with the stem of his banana. "And, I guess...I, screwed up from the beginning when we were still in grade school. Cause I-I...I guess what I'm trying to say is..." He trailed off before suddenly lifting up the fruit.

"Uh...yes. That's a banana...a great source of potassium and—"

"It's supposed to be mistletoe, alright?" he grumbled, "My mom already used up all of the stupid things around our house, and I know that you wanted a 'traditional Christmas' but this is the closest your gonna—"

I leaned in abruptly, and my mouth ended up on his. Stunned, he stood still for a moment before kissing back and listening to me whisper, "I kind of like this new tradition."

AN: Ok....not as great as I would've liked it to be. Comments? Maybe on a quote you happened to like/dislike? Anyways...Happy Christmas! Best Wishes!