Chapter Text
It was unusual for Sinterklaas’ helpers to be around alcohol, but their boss decided to turn a blind eye when it came to his birthday.
The old boat was bustling with life once again, just like when the crew arrived in the small country, some Pieten settled on old crates or piles of empty sacks once full of gifts and candy,
Hoofdpiet was already stressing about whether they had everything packed for the journey back while a few younger Pieten kept offering his right hand man alcohol, much to the dismay of the second in command,
The saint breath a sigh of relief in the chaos of it all, Another successful Sinterklaas year filled with joy, the old man himself was overjoyed to once again let all his hard work pay off and celebrate with the children, reading, handing out candy, giving a lot of gifts just to see the smiles on their faces, but his favorite part would always be the silent walks on the roof with his horse.
“—-Happy birthday~” a choir rang out from all the Pieten, singing out of tune, but still a good sound nonetheless.
Oh right, it was almost sunrise, which meant everyone wanted to celebrate his birthday personally now that their duties for the year were over.
“You alright, Sinterklaas?” Hooftpiet asked.
“Yes, yes! I’m just fine, I wouldn't want you to worry about my health again!” The saint deflected, he wouldn’t want another repeat of what happened with the health scare last year.
Although he was getting a slight headache from all the energy the Pieten seemed to have near sunrise after Pakjesavond —The smell of marsepein and pepernoten mixed with liquor certainly didn’t help— Even Sinterklaas didn’t have that much energy, maybe he was getting old, even if the man himself would never admit it.
“We got you a gift!” Mallepiet’s voice rang through the room, both him and another girl (was it Paarden?) piet carried it over.
“You shouldn’t have!” Sinterklaas laughed with delight, “I was born to give, I wouldn’t want it any other way!” He said as he carefully unwrapped the beautiful wrapping paper, he wouldn’t want to upset Inpakpiet.
“A book?” Sinterklaas looked at the heavy leather bound cover, “You do know I already have a book, right?” Maybe this time Hoofdpiet should be checked for dementia.
“No, no! It’s a cookbook, look, it has all kinds of traditional meals from your home country!” Another Piet yelled over his shoulder, He hadn’t thought about Myra in ages…
This must’ve been centuries old, Sinterklaas didn’t remember much of his time before his time of bringing joy to the people around the world, much less of his hometown, Myra was getting smaller, more forgotten.
“Thank you, my dear friends.” The holy man said in a grateful but quiet tone running his hands over the book, while Bakpiet pointed out some of the recipes he liked best,
“As much as I love partying with all of you, I’ll retreat to my room and catch some well deserved rest.” He hugged a few of his colorfully dressed helpers goodnight.
As soon as the door of the room snapped shut it was silent, only the waves crashing against the boat and a slight creaking could be heard,
“Oh my- did we do too much!” Hoofdpiet immediately screamed,
“Don’t be such a hassle, Hoofdpiet! Why would one gift be too much!” Bakpiet answered, leaning back and taking a quick swig out of the beer bottle he had been holding.
“It’s his birthday!” A younger Piet added as she tried to swipe Bakpiet’s beer only to fail miserably.
“He said it himself he likes giving gifts! Not receiving them!” Mallepiet added unhelpfully,
“What about the drawings from the kids!?”
“Those don’t count!” The discussion continued around the crew as Hoofdpiet leaned back in his chair, he had been doing this for ages- and as much as he loved the job he couldn’t help but wonder;
“Don’t you think all of this is getting old, when does something new ever happen around here?”
The first time without asking, there was a true silence amongst everyone,
“What do you mean! Pakjesboot 12 literally sank a few years ago.” Hoofdpiet silently wondered if The SinterklaasJournaal* was cursed, there was a lot of discourse when it came to actually arriving.
“Or when Bartus Bakker* tried to steal our pepernoten recipe!” Hoofdpiet was sure he saw Bakpiet choke on his drink, coughing before taking another long sip,
“Have you looked over his resume yet? We could really use someone in the kitchen and he seemed like a nice kid!” Someone— probably Partypiet —added “Such a shame about his shit family.”
“We all know that we don’t accept new Pieten!” Hoofdpiet added a bit louder than he intended, “We’re fine, if Bakpiet really needed help he’d ask!”
“Actually I’d love to work with Bartus, he really seems to have the passion for making Pepernoten doesn’t he?” Bakpiet was already embarrassed that he’d ever admit this.
“Yeah, why don’t we accept people into the Pieten Academy anymore! The youngest aboard right now is still Benjamin Stout!”* One Piet cried out clearly tipsy,
Hoofdpiet rubbed his temple, he’d explained this a million times before,
“We’re working for Sinterklaas! Literally the spirit of giving! Not everyone wants to give up their entire life to spread joy to kids, much less when it’s eternal! Did you all forget we don’t age.” At least a lot slower than the average person, “Besides Benjamin made that decision after decades we can’t just accept anyone who walks aboard!”
“Oh.. I kinda forgot about the age thing.” One Piet answered, everyone seemed to hum in agreement before going back to talking.
It was true though, they were legends, folklore, and folk lore doesn’t pass, it stays eternally if broadcasted to millions of homes or if it’s told through the whispers of kids on the playground meant they were too eternal Working hard for centuries, but working around— or in Hoofdpiet's case with Sinterklaas was beyond worth it,
“I’m gonna go check if we have everything in order to leave tomorrow night,” Hoofdpiet grumbled,
“Don’t be such a worrywart!” Someone’s voice echoed but Hoofdpiet already slammed the metal door,
Maybe the people of the Netherlands had forgotten the countless stories and adventures they went on, this job wasn’t a joke, not to Hoofdpiet. Sinterklaas and the Pieten brought joy, tradition and wonder to the world, much like any other holiday spirit! Not everyone was cut out for this line of work.
The hallways were thankfully empty, he could still hear cheering and laughing through the thick metal walls, he was just about to head over to the office and actually look for Bartus’ resume when he swore he could see someone moving around in the corner of his eye-
“Hoofdpiet, is that you?” Sinterklaas yelled from the deck as the right hand man snapped his head to the direction of the sound,
“Yes, Sinterklaas, is anything wrong?” He slowly made his way to the deck, Nicolaas was leaning on the railing, already wearing his sleepwear,
“No, come, look at the view,” Hoofdpiet decidedly stood next to the man. The sun was setting over the horizon, the harbor they were stationed at already bustling with a few early bird fishermen as the smell of rain cleared the air, typically Dutch.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Hoofdpiet asked,
“You think I can sleep when all you Pieten are rambling on?” The old man responded before taking a bite of the chocolate letter that seemingly magically appeared in his hand.
“I guess not,” Hoofdpiet chuckled, “It’s officially the 6th of December.” He cheerfully added,
Sinterklaas hummed while he took another bite of the chocolate letter. It was a holiday, a tradition, Sinterklaas yet this couldn’t be called a birthday to the two men standing on the deck.
It was the day Saint Nicolas died, and Sinterklaas was born— a legend, folklore that was whispered among the poor until it turned into parents who could get their children to behave —A death like this shouldn’t be celebrated yet Sinterklaas did
He was a spirit of giving after all.
As the sunrise hit the Dutch harbor coloring all in a delightful warm orange there where screams, drunken cries as a few younger Pieten now decided to come up to the deck,
“I already miss het grote Pieten huis.” Sinterklaas rubbed his temple in what others might describe as annoyance but Hoofdpiet could tell this was more amusement than anything,
“Zie ginds komt de stoomboot uit Spanje weer aan.” A choir rang out as part of the crew decided that it was a good time for a cold morning swim, nonconsensually as a few Pieten threw younger ones into the freezing water with costume and all.
“Now… I find that a good note to end Pakjesavond on, I shall go rest now.” He looked over at the celebrating bunch
“Here let me help,” Hoofdpiet already handed the older man his staff,
“I’m not made of sugar, am I?!” The saint said stubbornly, as he slowly waddled over to his room, bones creaking as he did,
“Didn’t say you were.” Hoofdpiet added with a slight smirk, as they walked through the boats hallways recounting their favorite moments of the night they arrived at Sinterklaas’s chambers,
“Now, after you've rested, please make sure everything is in order for our department tomorrow.” Sinterklaas gave him a firm shoulder pat, “Don’t let yourself stress over nothing.” He laughed,
“Of course.” And with that the holy man retreated to his room, Hoofdpiet respected the man, but could he really get a good day’s sleep without at least checking if everything was in order? No.
Making mental notes of everything they’d need to buy for next years holiday while he sorted through the gift wrappings, jute bags and oil for the machines-
Creakkkkk
Hoofdpiet snapped his head to the place the sound originated from, he knew he was tired but his head didn’t have to make up creepy shadows moving!
It had to be paranoia, right?
He debated on investigating the noise, before realizing he was second in command and it was his responsibility to make sure everything ran smoothly!
Another noise rang through the entire storage, much to the dismay of the Piet. Swallowing all his fear of it being a stray animal he looked between the crates,
Nothing. A relieved sigh at the thought.
Maybe he needed sleep. Or a beer. Or both— Another creak, from inside the crate.
There were two young eyes staring back.
There was a child aboard.