Author's Note: I couldn't resist penning a quick holiday story. It has humor, action, suspense, drama, witty dialogue (Ok, that is only my opinion) and a seasonal message. I freely admit it is not my best writing, but take it for what it is; a little holiday fun. This is the first of nine chapters (if I were brilliant, which I am not, I would made it twelve). Excuse the thinly veiled holiday references sprinkled throughout the story like nonpareils on a sugar cookie. I may not post every day; I am still doing the dreaded proof reading (yuck), but I promise to finish before Santa comes down the chimney (EST or is it EDT).
As usual, own nothing and no infringement intended.
As it is the holiday season, please consider leaving a few reviews; tis the season for giving and reviews are presents to wanna-be-writers.
For the hundredth time in the space of fifteen minutes, Callen glared at the holly-green, curly-toed shoes encasing his size ten feet.
"Stop glaring at your feet, G. You're scaring the kids and freaking the Moms," Sam admonished his obviously unhappy partner.
Like a petulant child, Callen used his festive footwear to lay a kick on a nearby red and white striped, plastic, candy cane.
"Wouldn't scruff Hetty's wardrobe if I were you," Sam firmly suggested, as he watched his partner take aim at another innocent candy cane.
Callen's scowl deepened something, quite frankly, Sam didn't think was possible. "Why do you get to be Santa and I have to be a ridiculously dressed dwarf?"
Sam couldn't halt a little smile from creeping across his handsome face. "Elf," Sam corrected. "And the answer is because this is a politically correct mall and they have Santa's of all diversities. Besides, I have a great smile and I can relate to the kids better." Sam paused for a beat then added, "Or maybe it's because Hetty likes me better than you."
Callen couldn't deny Sam's statement at least not the part about relating to kids. Sam had been very kind and patient with every child that came to tell Santa their Christmas wish during the first two hours of this assignment. Sam had smiled, 'Ho-Ho-Ho-ed', and always managed to get even the shyest child to relax and whisper their secret dreams into Santa's waiting ear. Callen had to admit if he was Santa, he would have been sorely tempted to pull his gun on the kids as a way to get them to talk. Upon reflection, Callen had to secretly admit Hetty was right again though he would never admit it.
This whole assignment sucked and it wasn't just the ludicrous elf costume Hetty had forced him to wear with its' jingle-bell hat, short, bright red and yellow tunic, green curly shoes and red and green striped tights. Tights of all things. No grown man should ever wear tights in public unless they were a super-hero like Batman or Robin.
However, it was for national safety or at least that was how Hetty presented the case to them. The mall was having a special event exclusively for veterans and their families, as a way to thank the selfless men and women who served their nation. The mall had closed for a few hours, cleared everyone out, and then set up food, games, and other free events. When all the prep was done it had reopened its doors to all current and former military personnel and their loved ones. This special holiday event, on 22 December, had been well publicized and the turnout had been incredible.
The only thing marring this wonderful gesture had been credible intelligence that suggested a terrorist group was targeting the celebration. NCIS, along with other agencies, had been alerted and asked to provide covert, discreet coverage to protect the service-personnel. Of course, Hetty had interpreted that to mean costumes and she gleefully dug in her extensive wardrobe for the perfect ones for the team to don.
Over the comm link, Deeks' voice weighed in on Callen's costume. "I think you are pulling off those tights pretty well, Callen. I know I have been hearing some complimentary things from the Mom's in the line. Though you may want to be careful about that. After all, their spouses are probably weapons trained."
Kensi, who was dressed as a fairy snow princess, thought she saw Callen blush a bit though his tone of voice when he answered Deeks was as cold and as hard ice. "Santa's gonna be down one reindeer on his team this year and his elves are gonna have a barbecue featuring version," Callen non-subtly threatened Deeks.
Deeks, who Hetty had comically dressed as a reindeer, looked a little worried as Callen started to reach behind his back. "Ah that's messed up, Callen," he nervously replied.
Santa Sam chuckled from his throne. "Don't worry Deeks. Those tights are so snug it may take G five minutes to draw his weapon. Plenty of time for you to run." Sam cocked his head to the side a bit looking thoughtful at Callen. "Assuming you have your gun on a belt holster, ya know you're going to have to lift that pretty dress of yours awfully high to draw it, G."
"It's a tunic, not a dress," Callen growled at his mirthful partner. "And for the record, I am wearing an ankle holster today."
"Well, I don't know what you boys are complaining about," Kensi grumbled, joining the fray. "At least you aren't wearing heels, wings, and 700 feet of crinkly cellophane. Every time I move the noise drives me crazy."
"Yea," Sam said drily. "We're all enjoying your noisy outfit over the comm link."
Not one to be left out in the cold, Deeks added the complaint's department. "Yea, well this reindeer costume itches. I think it is made out of wool."
"Wool is from sheep. You're a reindeer. Guess you're allergic to reindeer fur Deeks," Kensi gleefully pointed out.
Deeks gave a mighty scratch, while frowning at Kensi over the fake snow and giant presents that made up the decor of Santa's Winter Wonderland, which was located in the center court of the two story mall. "Well you better hope you don't have to chase anyone in those leftover, 70s, disco, platform shoes. You'll break your leg."
Kensi gave a worried glance at her feet, which were incased in silver, sequined, five-inch-high, platform shoes. To Deeks credit, he was right about the era they represented.
"Guess you could always take them off and throw them at the bad guy. Probably knock'em out cold," Deeks remarked cheekily.
"Shut up Deeks," Kensi angrily shot back. "And put your red nose on Rudolph."
Ever the clown, Deeks unabashedly placed a bright red, round, bulbous nose on his face, then grabbed his tail and gave it a little seductive twirl. "Can I interest you in a little tail tonight, Kensilina?"
Three shocked voices simultaneously said 'Deeks' over the comm link; Kensi's tone was stunned, Sam's annoyed, and Callen's tone was harsh, though there was a little undercurrent of humor there too. However, the next voice that came into their ears was anything but amused.
"Mr. Deeks, please plan on spending the weekend in the office with me taking a remedial course in appropriate behavior in the workplace. All weekend!" she finished with flair.
"Hetty!" Deeks whined. "It was a joke."
"And one in very poor taste. And Mr. Callen, if you don't wipe that smirk off your face you'll be joining Mr. Deeks for this joyous event."
"I'm not smirking Hetty," Callen informed her, even though he was smirking.
"How does she do that?" Deeks said, moving to stand next to Kensi. "She can't see him."
"Probably had Eric turn the security cameras to face us," Sam helpfully suggested.
"Mr. Hanna, your beard needs fluffing," the disembodied voice reprimanded and Callen's smirk grew wider as his partner frowned.
The manager in charge of Santa Land sashayed over to where the quad of agents was gathered around Santa's velvet and gold-gilded throne. He was dressed in a well-tailored, pin-striped, grey suit and carried an official looking clipboard. "Ya'll ready?" he drawled in a southern accent so thick you could cut a pecan pie with it. "Breaks over. It's time to re-open Santa's Winter Wonderland again. Where the icy fun never ends!"
Deeks leaned close to Kensi's ear. "He does know this is LA right? Once they step outside, the icy fun will turn into a puddle of water."
The manager primly turned to face Sam. "You did a pretty good job so far Santa, but you need to up your ho-ho-ho to child ratio. Every good girl and boy deserves a Ho-Ho-Ho. And also Santa, try to be a bit more jolly. Remember, as Mr. Moore told us, 'He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf..."
Callen interrupted the manager discourse to lodge a protest. "If Santa is an elf, how come he gets to wear boots and not stupid pointy shoes?" Callen stomped his green, curly toed shoes on the floor, emphasizing his point.
The manager halted in his recitation to give Callen an incredulous glance. "Mr. Moore was speaking metaphorically, of course, when he referred to Santa as an elf. Everyone knows Mr. Claus was adopted by the elves and not born to them. Elves wear curly toed shoes and Santa wears black, shiny boots and," he said turning back to face Santa Sam, "yours need a bit of a polish. I can't see myself in them."
Sam, Navy SEAL, who prided himself on his tip-top appearance, pleasantly suggested the manager bend over and take a closer look. Simultaneously, Sam received a warning in his ear piece from Hetty about a dire punishment, if he dared do what he was thinking. The manager, oblivious to the background conversation, pulled a tissue out of his pocket, bent over, and buffed Sam's right boot. Kensi had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the look on Sam's face. Callen, on the other hand, didn't even try to contain his mirth, laughing heartily and earning an 'I'll get even with you stare from Sam.
The manager finished his 'spit and polish' then turned and handed the dirty tissue to Deeks. "Be a good reindeer and put this in the trash would you. Can't have litter in Santa's Winter Wonderland."
Deeks started to reply, but a swift stomp from the Fairy Snow Princess' footwear had him promptly closing his mouth, taking the tissue in his paw, and limping to the nearby trash receptacle.
The manager gave Sam another critical appraisal from head to toe. "Your beard needs fluffing."
"Hetty was right," Deeks whispered to Kensi, as he rejoined the group.
"She always is," Kensi reminded him.
With his deep southern twang, the manager started reciting again.
"His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!"
"Sam does have merry dimples," Deeks interjected.
"And Sam's eyes will twinkle, right before he takes out his gun and shoots you for making fun of his dimple," Kensi suggested, to her bedeviling partner.
"His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow!" the would-be southern thespian continued.
Deeks just couldn't keep quiet. "Even if it does need fluffing."
"The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath."
Deeks' scratched at his neck before quirking, "Have you ever smoked a pipe, Sam? I picture you as more of a cigar guy."
"I don't smoke Deeks, but you're going to if you don't shut up," Sam retaliated.
Ignoring the fact his audience was not appreciating his efforts, the manager plugged on with his rendition of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas'. "He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf..."
Callen gave his partner a sideways glance, a smirk definitely pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Hear that Santa. He said you're fat and old."
"And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!" the dapper manager concluded with a flourish. As he drew a breath to continue, Sam leaned forward and in a pseudo-happy voice that often he used when talking to his daughter, he told the manager, "If you don't want those nice kiddies out there to see Santa deck the halls with you, you'd better stop reciting that poem." Sam gave the manager a huge smile and his dimple merrily stood out on his face.
Taking the non-subtle hint, the manager turned his attention on Callen-the-Elf. "I don't think you are truly embracing your role. Perhaps you need some inspiration."
Now it was Sam's turn to razz his partner. "Yea G. You need to embrace your inner elf." Callen's gesture in Sam's direction was inappropriate and earned him a warning from Hetty.
"We do random surveys of parents after they conclude their visits to Santa's Winter Wonderland," the pencil thin man informed them.
Deeks chortled. "Do tell."
The manager gave Callen a sweeping glance that travelled from his sky blue eyes, past his slim hips, down his striped, tight clad legs and stopping at his green curly toed shoes. Callen felt violated by the time the man looked up again to address him.
"I certainly understand the comments about how well the costume fits you. However, there were also a fair number of complaints that Santa's favorite Elf was a bit, ah, intimating."
Callen gave him 'the look'; the one that had caused many a criminal to quake in their chairs on the far side of the interrogation table.
"Yes. Exactly like that," the manager confirmed, with a hint of nervousness.
Sam's face got very serious though there was no doubt he was pleased with his pun. "Gee-elf. You're mugging the Mommies and terrifying the toddlers."
"I know where you live, Sam," Callen growled, not amused.
The manager cleared his throat before once again barreling along ignoring all outside interference. "As far as elves go, let's talk Hermey. I really wouldn't recommend him as your elf role model. Yes, he was very sincere, honest, caring and blond like you."
Callen wondered about the significance of the blond remark and then decided he didn't really want to know.
"However," the Christmas professor continued, "overall Hermey was a pessimist. Not want we want in a jolly Christmas elf."
"Sounds just like you," Sam crooned.
"If he breaks into 'Holly Jolly Christmas' I'm out of here," Kensi muttered to no one in particular.
"Callen," Nell's helpful voice came over his ear piece. "Hermey was an elf in the classic holiday cartoon 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'. Hermey, like Rudolph, felt he was a misfit because he wanted to be a dentist, not an elf."
Sam grinned at his bemused partner. "A dentist. They use needles ya know." That earned him another Callen-dagger stare.
Like a bumbling puppy, Eric's voice burst through the comm link. "The holiday classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was only anticipated to be shown twice and yet this year it celebrates its 50th anniversary. It was created by the famous partnership of Rankin Jr. and Bass. It used puppets and stop-motion animation to tell the delightful story of a young reindeer, who was a little different from his peers, trying to make his way in an intolerant world. It has gone on to become the longest-running, highest-rated, television special of all time. This year the postal service is paying tribute by releasing four stamps in its honor." As Eric concluded, he felt two sets of eyes in Ops pinned on him and he grinned sheepishly, "Ah, too much information?"
Nell, who was a huge Christmas fan, solemnly replied, "Maybe a tad."
"Now," the manager continued as he took off his glasses and gave them a quick polish on the blinding white, starched, handkerchief he pulled from his pants pocket. "Buddy, from Elf, might be a better role model to channel. One does have to admit, he was a bit goofy, but he truly embodied the spirit of Christmas in every action, word and gesture."
The helpful voice in his ear informed him 'Elf' was a 2003 movie starring Will Ferrell, about a man who grew up amongst the elves on the North Pole. One day, it dawned on him he was adopted, so he went to New York City to find his real father. The second Wonder Twin, once again, couldn't resist chiming in, adding what he knew to include something about spaghetti, maple syrup, and singing. Callen decided Eric sounded like an entry from iDMB; or maybe Wikipedia.
"Enough," Callen enunciated, though no one was sure if he was talking to Eric or the manager of the happiest place on Earth, or at least in the west-side mall.
The manager took the hint and shifted his focus to Kensi. "Now Fairy Snow Princess, we have some issues with your movement. Fairy Snow Princesses are supposed to be graceful; glide like on ice."
"OMG. You should see her skate. She looks like a drunken walrus," Deeks interjected.
Kensi swiftly turned and gave Deeks, the red-nosed reindeer, a resounding smack with her sparkly, star-tipped wand. "I was warming up. I needed a little time to find my balance."
"There isn't enough time in the world, Princess. You were hanging on that rail like it was a chocolate bar at that time of the month," Deeks concluded, which earned him another whack from Kensi and a disapproving sigh over the comm link from Hetty.
"It's these damn shoes," Kensi pointed out. "It's like trying to walk on stilts."
"Ah yes, the shoes. We had some comments on them too. They make you too tall," the manager stated factually. "The fathers of our precious little guest feel intimated by your height. Men don't like women to tower over them."
"Now who needs remedial training, Hetty," Deeks remarked.
Callen looked over at Deeks. "He doesn't work for us Deeks."
"Good point." Deeks conceded.
"Anyway," the patient manager continued, "if you could try to be a bit shorter that would be helpful."
"Shorter!" Kensi stuttered.
Deeks made his hand into a claw and swiped it through the air. "Like a crouching tiger," this earned him yet another smack from the fairy wand, which was starting to look a bit bedraggled.
"Keep it up, Kensi," Sam egged her on. "Tenderize that meat for our BBQ."
"And speaking of reindeer," the manager inserted himself back into the conversation, "you need to prance more."
Callen ducked his head, snickering.
"I'm sorry. Apparently, there has been a miscommunication here. I'm not Prancer. Obviously, I am Dasher, because, well I am so dashing." Deeks struck a James Bond, sophisticated pose in his reindeer costume.
Kensi snorted in a most unladylike like manner, "More like Blunder."
Deeks made a wounded buffalo face. "Ouch. And by the way for those playing along that is not one of the eight reindeer's names. I don't even think that name is anyone in the second-string stable."
A brisk clap drew their attention back to the business at hand. "We open in two. Everyone to their marks. Remember, Santa, more Ho-Ho-Hoing. Elf, smile. Fairy Snow Princess, think glide and short and reindeer, hoof it up. Now places everyone." He held up his left hand, five fingers extended and began to fold them down in sequence. "Five, four, three..." and on two and one he went silent just bending his fingers. When all five were down he stage-whispered "You're on Santa."
Sam rolled his eyes but grudgingly gave a big Ho, Ho, Ho and the kids waiting patiently in line merrily cheered in response. The four agents couldn't help but to grin at each other, buoyed by the infectious Christmas spirit of the kids.