"Ow," Jim moaned as a pillow hit his head and he was rudely awoken the next morning. He pushed the pillow onto the floor and sat up, leaning on his elbows. "What was that for?" he asked, his hair sticking up at all angles.

"Get up," Pam said, towering over him. "We're running late."

"We are?" Jim asked, glancing at the alarm clock. "No we're not. Why are you dressed already? Why am I awake so early?"

"Because we only have one day left until Christmas and there is still so much to do," Pam moaned, turning her back on Jim. 

"Like what?" he asked, still in bed. 

"Like bake the pie that I promised I'd bring your mom tomorrow, and clean the house, and get all the gifts into the car. And did you write those Christmas cards I left out for you?" She began throwing random items of clothing into an overnight bag. "And you need to pack your bag. I promised your mom we'd stay tomorrow night."

"Ugh," Jim groaned, falling back into the pillows. He watched Pam beavering about their bedroom, trying to pack. "Ok, Beesly, calm down. We've got plenty of time to get the gifts into the car tomorrow morning," he began.

"No, we should do it tonight so that we know it's done. I don't want to be rushing around in the morning, especially as she wants us there so early." 

"Ok, look," he said, pulling her onto the bed. "I promise you, once we're home tonight, I will put all the gifts into the car and pack my bag while you make the pie, ok? And we really don't need to clean the house today. It's not like we've done that in weeks anyway, one more day won't make a difference." 

Pam shrugged and nodded slightly. "And you'll write the cards?"

"And I'll write the cards, I promise," he said, leaning up to kiss her. "Oh that reminds me, it's the last advent calendar. Come on, let's go open it," he grinned, reaching for her hand.

As Pam went over to make Jim a coffee, and her third tea of the morning, Jim sat at the kitchen table and pulled the last envelope out of the card. He ran his finger over the back of it, before looking up at Pam with a smile. "This really was an amazing gift, thank you," he said.  

Pam walked over and stood between Jim's legs, running her hands over his bare shoulders. She bent down to kiss him. "You're very welcome," she smiled as they pulled apart, but stayed standing where she was as Jim opened the envelope. 

"These last 11 days for Dwight have been an ordeal. Let's make him believe that Santa is real," Jim read out from the card, smiling at the little cartoon of Dwight gazing up at Santa in his sleigh at the top of the card. "And how exactly are we going to do that?" he asked. 

She shrugged simply. "Better get your thinking cap on," she said with a giggle, before leaning down to kiss him again.

--

"Where is Dwight?" Michael asked as he stepped out of his office, looking down at his watch. "He's never this late." 

Pam's hands flew to her mouth as she tried to hide her laughter as she glanced over at Jim. ‘Oh my god,' she mouthed at him. Jim smirked and tried to cover his laughter. "Um, I think he was going to the dentist this morning," Pam finally said.

"Hmm," Michael replied, before walking back into his office and slamming the door. 

As soon as the door was shut, Pam quickly picked up the phone receiver and dialled Dwight's number as Jim walked up to reception and leaned against her desk. "Hey Dwight," she said into the phone as the call was answered. "The fax never came through last night confirming we had today off, so we've all had to come in. I'm sorry I never called, there was an emergency and I had to get home." She paused to listen to Dwight shouting on the other end of the phone, moving the receiver slightly away from her ear. "Don't worry, I covered for you. I told Michael you were at the dentist, he'll never know," she whispered and paused as Dwight spoke. "You're welcome, Dwight." 

-- 

Dwight came running into the office approximately 30 minutes later, his cellphone held between his ear and his shoulder as he tried to simultaneously write on an order form that he had placed upside down on his stomach. As he rounded the first clump of desks, Dwight accidentally knocked the top of Jim's head with his elbow, before nudging his chair back with his foot and sitting down. "Thank you Mr Wordson, I'll get that right out to you. Good day to you," he said, before hanging up his cellphone and grabbing his desk phone receiver. As he waited for the call to connect, Dwight tapped at his computer to turn it on, before grabbing a calculator that he proceeded to jab at. Jim just stared at him in amazement, his mouth slightly open with a pen resting against his bottom lip. "Mr Snarls please," Dwight said when the call finally connected. "Oh, I see," he said, disappointment evident in his voice. "I'll call back in the new year then." He slammed down the phone and reached for a folder.

"In a hurry there Dwight?" Jim asked. 

"Because of the Corporate screw up, I'm working at double speed to make up for that fact that I've missed 45 minutes of work," Dwight said matter of factly, his eyes not leaving his computer screen.

"Just like the big guy huh? Although I guess you can't work as fast as him," Jim said, looking down at his expense report. 

"What big guy? What are you talking about?" Dwight asked, finally looking over at Jim. 

"You know?" Jim nodded. "Santa? Christmas Eve is his busiest day of the year. He must be working crazy fast today. 

"Don't be an idiot Jim, Santa isn't real." 

"Then how do you explain all the gifts under the tree, and the half eaten cookies in the morning? And I swear my parents' chimney never used to have bricks missing from it until once when I was a kid and I heard this loud noise on Christmas Eve. I'm sure that was from a reindeer." 

"Jim, there is no such thing as Santa. I don't have time for this," Dwight said as he reached for his phone again. 

-- 

"Everyone sent their lists to Santa this year?" Michael asked as he walked around the bullpen, clearly bored later that morning. 

"Yup, I've asked for a hundred grand," Jim smirked as he leant backwards in his chair.

"Greedy," Michael said as he pointed at Jim. "Phyllis, how about you?" 

"Oh, Bobby already got me everything I could ever want. I don't need anything from Santa," Phyllis smiled coyly. 

"Bleugh," was all Michael had to say. "Stanley?" 

"Santa is for children, I am not a child," Stanley drawled.  

"Christmas Pam?" Michael asked, turning around to face Pam.  

"Two tickets to Paris," she smiled before looking over at Jim.

"Alright, enough of the lovey dovey crap you two," Michael spat. "Dwight, what have you asked Santa for?" 

"I have not, nor will ever, ask Santa for a present because he does not exist," Dwight said as he typed away on his keyboard. 

"Not even as a kid?" Pam asked. 

"Shrutes do not recognise Santa Claus. Belsnickel, yes. On Christmas Day we receive functional gifts from one another however. Personal highlights for me have included my first pitchfork, an impressive log and my great grandfather's work boots," Dwight explained. 

"So there was nothing you ever wanted just for fun?" she asked. 

Dwight looked down at his desk and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No," he said clearly before turning back to his computer monitor.  

"I always wanted an Easy Bake oven when I was a girl," Phyllis smiled. "But now I know I can pay people to cook for me, I don't need one anymore." 

"I wanted my parents' love and attention," Andy chimed in. "Or you know," he cleared his throat, "my own sailing boat."

"There was really nothing you ever wanted Dwight?" Pam probed again. 

"Fine," Dwight finally relented. "When I was eight, I asked for a Cylon Centurion action figure. I did not receive it. That is the end of the story." He picked up his phone receiver and dialled a number, oblivious to Jim and Pam's delighted faces.  

--

"Ok, so I found this on eBay," Pam said quietly, pointing at her computer screen as Jim leaned over her shoulder twenty minutes later. He scanned the page quickly noting the seller's location. "I messaged and I can go pick it up this afternoon if you can create a distraction for Dwight?" she asked.  

"On it," Jim replied before reaching forward to grab a jellybean. 

-- 

"What was that?" Jim asked, looking up at the ceiling during a particularly quiet moment of the early afternoon. He'd just returned from the kitchen with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, and was about to take a bite of the cookie when the noise interrupted him. 

"What was what?" Dwight asked.

"There was a really loud clatter up there," Jim said, still looking up at the ceiling. 

"A clatter Jim? Really? What are you, in a Christmas poem or something?"

A noise from above startled them both. "See look, there it was again," Jim said, getting up from his chair. "You definitely heard that right?"

"Actually, I did," Dwight replied, staring at the ceiling. He rifled through his drawer, looking for his flashlight. As soon as he found it, he climbed up onto his desk and pushed aside a ceiling tile so that he could peer into the dark void. "It's all clear," he said after looking around. Another noise came from above, causing Dwight to strain his neck even more. "We should go check in with Woods & Grammercy," he said, climbing back down. 

"Lead the way," Jim said, holding his arm out in front of him.  

Ten minutes later, after being refused entry at both Woods & Grammercy and Cress Tool & Die, Jim and Dwight found themselves on the roof of Scranton Business Park looking for clues as to what had caused the noise.  

"Come on Dwight," Jim said, as he kicked at a small pile of rubble, "there's nothing up here. Let's go back to the office."

"Wait," Dwight replied, crouching down. "Look at this."

Jim bent down for a closer look. "What is...oh gross," he exclaimed, standing up. "Is that?"

"Faeces," Dwight replied before Jim could finish his sentence.

"But why would it be up here? Unless. No, forget I said anything."

"Oh ha ha," Dwight deadpanned. "No, I don't think it's from a flying reindeer, idiot. This is clearly manure from the bovidae family, not the cervidae family." Jim just looked at him blankly. "It's cow poop, not deer poop, Jim."

"Oh. I did not know there was that much of a difference," Jim said quietly as he turned away from Dwight, scratching his neck. 

Dwight walked around the roof in circles for a few more moments, hands on his hips, deep in thought. "Come on, let's go," he said, walking back over to the hatch. Just before he reached it, he tripped slightly on something. He bent down to inspect what had tripped him up. "What is this?" he asked, holding it up in the air. 

"Looks like some gift wrap to me," Jim said, peering closely at the red paper with Christmas trees printed on it in Dwight's hand. "And some gold ribbon. It's just trash, Dwight. Come on, it's cold. Let's go."

Dwight took one last look around the roof with a scowl on his face, before he tossed the gift wrap back onto the ground and made his way back to the office.  

--

"Ok, very funny," Jim said as he returned to his desk. "Who ate my cookies?" Dwight rolled his eyes as he took his seat at his desk. 

"I haven't seen anyone touch them," Phyllis said, turning her head slightly towards Jim from her desk.  

"Stanley, was it you?" 

"I do not need to steal food, I have my own thank you very much," Stanely replied, not looking up from his crossword.  

"Whoever took them, I'm not mad. But did you need to drink the milk too?" Jim asked. "Hey what's this?" he asked, bending down to retrieve something that was just under his desk. "Hey that's weird," he said, bringing it up. "Isn't this the same gift wrap that we saw on the roof?" 

"Gimme that," Dwight said, snatching the red paper and gold ribbon from Jim. "Are you sure you didn't bring it down from the roof? Or was it stuck to your shoe?" 

"Yeah, that must be it," Jim replied, picking at the cookie crumbs on the plate. 

-- 

"Ok, I'm calling it," Michael said at 4pm. "Quitting time. Let's go." He clapped his hands together as if trying to chase everyone out of the office. 

"Alright," Jim exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. "We are outta here."

"Just one second, I need to sort out one last thing," Pam said to Jim. "Hey Dwight, do you mind double checking the shredder for me before we go? There was an important document I needed to shred and it's not working. I wouldn't want to leave it over the weekend in case it fell into the wrong hands."

"Fine," Dwight huffed as he walked over to reception and turned towards the shredder. He pressed various buttons and checked the blades but nothing seemed to make a difference. He followed the electric cable down to the plug and found that it was not connected to the wall. "It's not plugged in, idiot," Dwight said as he plugged the lead into the outlet.  

"Wow," Pam laughed, hitting her head with her hand. "Thanks Dwight." She grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and turned around to shred it as Dwight walked back to his desk. "I'll just be a sec," she said to Jim who had wandered over to reception and was reaching for his jacket. 

"What is this?" Dwight asked loudly from his desk. 

"What's what buddy?" Jim shouted from reception.

"This package?" Dwight asked, holding up a small box that had been wrapped in the same red Christmas tree gift wrap with a gold ribbon tied around it. 

"Looks like a Christmas gift Dwight," Jim replied as he slipped his jacket on.

"Where did it come from? It wasn't here before I went over to reception." 

"Can't help you there," Jim replied. He turned towards Pam. "You ready to go?" he asked her. 

"Yup, I'll just set the phones to voicemail," she smiled and began pressing buttons.

"Bye Dwight," Jim called out. 

"No, wait," Dwight shouted as Jim and Pam turned to leave. "Look, it's wrapped in the same gift wrap as we found on the roof."

"It's just a Christmas gift Dwight, I wouldn't read too much into it," Pam said as she took her coat down from the rack. 

"Who's it from? There's no note on it," Dwight said, turning the gift over in his hands.

"Can't help you there. Why don't you open it?" Jim suggested. 

Dwight looked at him with narrowed eyes before tearing into the paper. He ripped off the gift wrap, letting it fall to the floor, before opening the white cardboard box that was inside. He tentatively pulled the flap of the box open and pulled out a 4.5 inch action figure of a Cylon Centurion. "What the?" Dwight shouted, dropping the toy onto his desk as if it were made of burning steel. "Who did this?" 

"What is it Dwight?" Pam asked, walking over to his desk to look. 

"It's a Battlestar Galactica action figure from 1978," he replied, picking up the toy again to inspect it.

"Oh hey, like the one you asked for as a kid?" Jim asked, walking over to join Pam. "Nice." 

"But how?" Dwight asked, completely confused. "Where's it come from?" He slunk down into his chair.

"Maybe it was from Santa after all?" Jim smiled.  

"Shut up, Jim," Diwght snapped, still staring at the model.

"And Merry Christmas to you too Dwight," Jim said. "Alright, let's go," he said to Pam.

"Merry Christmas Dwight," Pam called as she and Jim left the office. 

Dwight stared at the toy, before pushing his chair back and noticing two muddy boot prints on the carpet just underneath his desk. He got on all fours to examine the footprints, clutching the action figure as he did so.  

"Merry Christmas Dwight," Michael called as he left the office. "Don't stay on your knees all weekend," he laughed. "That's what she said," he called over his shoulder. 

Dwight barely registered what Michael said to him and instead just looked up at his bobblehead sitting on his desk, still wearing its miniature Santa hat, and whispered ‘thank you.'