Favoritism

By: Sugar Skulls

Summary: Scott's not the jolliest Santa the world has seen, and Bernard can be a bit Grinchy, too. It's a match made in a freakin' winter wonderland. Scott/Bernard drabbles.

i.

The first time Bernard smiled at Scott, they had just finished arguing.

Scott had lost, as usual. That wasn't to say that he hadn't won his fair share of arguments with the grumpy elf, but Bernard was definitely in the lead. He had wit to rival Scott's, and maybe being several millennia old gave him an edge. He had experience and that occasional bout of condescension that gave off the distinct air of teenager. Scott had his blatant disregard of tact, bordering on obnoxiousness, and he wasn't above resorting to immature measures to win an argument.

But their arguments were superficial and inconsequential, both of them knew that. They argued simply for the sake of arguing, sizing one another up and always leaving with a bit more appreciation for the other's bickering skills, no matter who won that particular round. It didn't affect their work; Bernard followed Scott's orders when he gave them, Scott followed Bernard's professional advice when he offered it. Their arguments were purely recreational.

Bernard never smiled when he won an argument. He always gave Scott his haughty "I won, so there" raise of the eyebrows before turning on his heel and going off to do whatever. He never greeted Scott with a smile in the mornings or departed with a sleepy smile like the other elves did. Scott just got a food-stuffed "Hey" at breakfasts, and a careless wave of the hand accompanied by a "'Night" after dinner. Not that Scott minded or anything. Bernard just didn't smile at him. That was how it was. But it wasn't like he had never seen him smile before. Bernard smiled at Charlie and Judy and Quentin. Bernard smiled proudly whenever particularly difficult projects were completed successfully. Bernard pasted on tight, false smiles when he was pissed at Scott but didn't want to alarm the other elves. Bernard flashed sarcastic, patronizing smiles at Scott when they argued.

But the first time Bernard actually, truly smiled at Scott—at Scott himself, at something Scott did, simply because it made him happy, and not one of his infuriating know-it-all smirks—was after an argument.

Scott glared at him, his expression most surly. His battle was lost, but he wanted to have the last word, though he knew it to be a lost cause. So he grumbled, "Yeah, well…your hat is stupid." He expected to receive a distinctly unimpressed look from Bernard, maybe even a roll of his eyes. He was hoping he did—he could pick another fight and maybe this time he'd win.

But instead, Bernard looked puzzled by Scott's feeble insult. Then a fleeting, sparkling little smile flashed across his features before he shook his head and strode away. Scott turned to watch him go, blinking rapidly. Bernard had smiled at him.

He'd have to attack that goofy hat of his more often.

ii.

The first time Bernard laughed at Scott, Scott had invited him to see a movie.

Scott hadn't spent much quality time with Charlie in a while, so he offered to see a movie with him. How the Grinch Stole Christmas, starring Jim Carrey. Charlie looked pleased that his dad sought out to spend time with him, but then his smile turned apologetic as he explained that he had already made plans to see that very movie that very night with a girl from school. Scott was surprised (Charlie hadn't turned down an opportunity to hang out with him since he was six), a bit disappointed (he had missed his son and hoped to catch up with him), but mostly he was proud. He thumped Charlie on the back, exclaiming "Score!" and telling him not to worry, they could hang out some other time.

But back at the North Pole, Scott decided he really did want to see that movie.

"Hey, Bernard!"

Bernard eyes didn't leave the jack-in-the-box he was examining critically from all angles, while a little elf girl stood by, waiting for him to give it back. "Yeah?"

Scott jogged up beside him. "Come see a movie with me."

Bernard looked up, confused. "What?"

"I wanted to see a movie with Charlie, but he's got a date," Scott shrugged. "I still want to see it, so I figured I'd invite you."

Bernard's eyebrows disappeared under his hat. "I can't, I'm working."

Scott dismissed his excuse with a nonchalant wave, trying not to feel irritated. Turned down by his son then turned down by his employee. He was starting to feel like that annoying kid in high school nobody wanted to hang out with.

"Take a break, God knows you need one," Scott insisted. "C'mon, it's just a movie."

Bernard furrowed his brow and handed the other elf her jack-in-the-box and turning to Scott. He crossed his arms, his expression bemused. "Well, that's…nice, I guess." He seemed to be deliberating declining the offer again. After a moment, he asked skeptically, "What movie?"

"The new Grinch movie," Scott said readily.

Bernard startled him by jerking in surprise and clapping his hands suddenly over the other elf's ears and shooting Scott a very nasty look.

"Language, Santa!" he snapped angrily. The little elf looked startled, as did Scott.

"What?" he said, bewildered. "What did I say? Grinch?"

"Yes!" Bernard snarled. "Now cut it out! This is a family-friendly workplace, thanks!"

"Well, sorry," Scott snapped back, temper flaring defensively. "It's not like I knew—"

But Bernard had dropped his hands from the elf's ears and was smirking at Scott, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You're so stupid; I can't believe you fell for that," Bernard said, his shoulders shaking as golden bursts of laughter tumbled from his lips mirthfully. The sound caught Scott off guard; he had never heard Bernard laugh, and he found himself wondering why anyone would tolerate that elf not laughing.

Scott's brain was still short-circuited as Bernard brushed past him, snickering that yeah, he'd see that movie with him.

iii.

The first time Bernard hugged Scott, Scott had very nearly fallen off a roof.

It had been a terrifying experience. Scott knew better than anyone; when he was nine, he fell off his roof and broke his leg, and he didn't relish the thought of a repeat. Plus, he'd seen the previous Santa Claus plummet painfully off of his roof not too long ago, and it definitely didn't look like fun. Furthermore, falling off a roof was fatal to him now, so now the whole concept seemed like a big bucket full of suck.

But as he stared, upside-down, at the snow-covered lawn just a few feet away, Scott had been immensely grateful for the rope Comet had made him several years ago. Sure, it hurt like hell to have that thing nearly break him in half when it abruptly went taut, but it did keep him from a sad little Santa death, so he hadn't complained. He had managed to clamber back up onto the roof, thank his lucky stars he hadn't wet himself, and finish his job around the world. He wondered if the elves would know he had come so close to dying.

Turns out, they did.

When his sleigh touched the floor of the workshop, Scott was surprised to see nearly every elf in the North Pole waiting for him. Bernard stood out among them, towering over most of the others near the front. The majority of them were pale with worry, eyes still wide as saucers.

"So, you guys saw that?" Scott guessed. Suddenly, the tense quiet was broken by several little voices crying out, "Are you okay, sir?" and "Santa, we were so worried!" Scott let himself be tugged from his sleigh, little hands patting his suit carefully. Several pairs of arms were thrown around his already-shrinking waist. Scott patted countless heads gave apologetic hugs to his distressed elves.

"I'm just fine, I swear," he promised over and over. "Comet's rope saved me, I'm okay. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I'm fine…"

Finally, Bernard reached him, his face still colorless and his lips pressed into a dangerously thin line. Scott sighed.

"Don't yell at me," he said tiredly. "It was an accident, I'm sorry I made everyone worry—"

"I'm just…" Bernard interrupted stiffly, raising a hand to stop Scott. Scott wondered if it was trembling, or if that was just his tired eyes playing tricks on him. "...glad your okay." He held out his hand for a formal handshake, which Scott ignored, rolling his eyes, as he stepped forward to hug him. Bernard staggered a bit, uttering a startled little "Um…" before hesitantly returning the squeezing embrace. Scott heard him mutter, "Really glad."

The moment ended there, a little awkwardly as they separated. Scott headed for his bedroom, looking forward to an uninterrupted night's sleep, and silently thanking Comet for making him a rope that got him more than just a continuing lifespan.

iv.

The first time Bernard kissed Scott, it had been on accident.

On Sundays, Bernard worked in the kitchens. It shouldn't have been surprising; the elf was had an enormous appetite, and didn't settle for less than perfect when it came to food. Scott could still remember Bernard's first words to him on Thanksgiving after their blowout at the North Pole that first Christmas Eve he became Santa. "Boy, this bird is dry. Haven't you people heard about basting?"

Bernard's idea of teach Scott to cook came from out of nowhere.

"Santa, what all do you know how to cook?" he demanded suddenly.

Scott had blinked at him for a few seconds before saying, "Uh…Ramen noodles."

Bernard nodded contemplatively. "And that's it?"

Scott shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah." He figured burning a turkey didn't count.

Bernard turned. "Follow me. You're learning how to cook."

Scott protested—not that he had anything against being taught how to cook, he just hadn't bickered with Bernard in two days—but eventually he found himself in the kitchen, wearing an apron and covered in flour. They were cooking…something that had a really long, disgusting, complicatedly foreign-sounding name. Bernard was spinning batter—or at least, a substance that looked like it was supposed to be batter, but Scott couldn't be sure.

"Separate some eggs into that bowl," Bernard instructed, nodding his head to another bowl sitting near Scott. "No more than four. You do know how to do that, right?"

"Of course I know how to separate eggs," Scott said testily, seizing an egg off the counter, and then promptly dropping it. It splattered on the ground.

"Yeah, you're a pro," Bernard said flatly.

"Shut up," Scott snapped as Bernard set down his bowl of possibly-batter and stooped to clean up the yolky mess at Scott's feet. Scott noticed a bit of eggshell on his shoe and bent to swipe it away. He miscalculated Bernard's proximity, and didn't expect him to stand up when he did.

Scot felt his lower lip split painfully, and heard the equally painful clack sound as Bernard's teeth collided heavily with his. His mouth throbbed and bruised, and he felt the bitter metallic taste of blood fill his mouth, accompanied by something that tasted marginally sweeter. Bernard's blood.

"Unnngh!" they grunted in unison, staggering away from each other and clutching their mouths. Bernard's mouth was bleeding, too.

"Ow!" Scott exclaimed. "Okay, that hurt!"

"I'll say!" Bernard cried accusatorily, pulling his hands away from his lips to examine the blood while Scott did the same. "Look what you did!"

"What I did?!"

"Yeah you! Unngh!" Bernard pressed his fingers back to his bleeding mouth. "What were you doing?"

"I was bending down to get something off my shoe!" Scott said, annoyed, wincing as he spoke. "You're the one who stood up and smacked your mouth on mine!"

Both of them froze. Scott felt the back of his neck heat up, and he saw Bernard's pointed ears go pink.

"Way to give me your freakin' death kiss!" Scott said finally, trying to mask his embarrassment with sarcasm and only succeeding in sounding reproachfully mortified.

Bernard's face went fire engine red. "It wasn't a kiss!"

Scott groaned again, pulling his fingers away from his mouth again to look at them. He glanced at Bernard and found him holding his fingers to injured lips, an expression of concentration on his face. After a moment, Bernard dropped his hands, and Scott could see no sign of the previous damage that had been there. Lucky little bastards, those elves and their magic.

Scott's voice was incredibly indignant as he said, "Fix mine, too!"

And the second time Bernard kissed Scott, it was on purpose.

"It wasn't a kiss," he repeated, glaring fiercely at Scott as he slowly approached him. He lifted his hands, but they didn't touch Scott's lips. They went up to grip his hair and gently, he tugged him down to his height and lightly touched his healed lips to Scott's tender, broken ones.

Scott's eyes went wide as dinner plates, his mind shorting out as pleasant waves of…magic pulsing from Bernard's lips onto his. He felt his busted lip sealing cleanly shut, felt the throbbing bruises fading away, felt the ache in his front teeth dying. But all of that was white noise to the fantastical sparks in Bernard's kiss, the fireworks exploding behind Scott's eyes.

When Bernard pulled back, Scott's lips were perfect, and Bernard was blushing madly, still glaring. "That was a kiss. Don't you forget it."

And Scott wondered why he got a smile first, when a kiss was so much better.

Author's Note: HEY LOOK. Scott/Bernard! Didn't see that coming, didja?

Just to tie up some loose ends:

1. The only thing I count as canon is the FIRST Santa Clause movie. The other two were absolute crap. They suffered horrendously from Sequelitis. Especially Bernard, and then he wasn't even IN the third one. So, Carol or whatever her name was, is gone. Yay!

2. It's already known that ages don't mean a thing to me when it comes to love, but even if they DID, Bernard is still like a thousand years old, and Scott was…what, late thirties? Yeah, it's not like pedophilia even had a say in this one. XD

3. For some reason, I've always fancied that, once Scott finished delivering all the presents, his beard and weight and everything disappeared for the majority of the year and then started growing back later in the year. This works better for the aesthetic appeal of Scott/Bernard, too, because even I think it's weird to have this white-haired bearded dude kissing what seems to be a sixteen-year-old boy. XD

4. Like pretty much everything I write, these will be DRABBLES. Short little stories that are completely unrelated to one another unless explicitly stated otherwise. Huzzah!

So be on the lookout for chapter two!