Disclaimer: Festively not mine.
A/N: Originally written as my part of a Secret Santa drabble gig. Happy Holidays, everyone.
Three More Spirits of Christmas
© Scribbler, December 2008.
"I don't see why I have to do this."
"Hush."
"Merlin already has a beard. Why isn't he doing this?"
Merlin, who was at that moment combing toast crumbs from said beard, peered over his glasses with the expression of one who'd been granted a reprieve from a particularly unpleasant task. "The broken foot would be something of a giveaway as to my identity, my dear boy." He gestured at the cast covering the lower half of his left leg. "And then there is the issue of weight; more specifically girth."
Leon glared. He was good at it. If there was Glaring Olympics in Hercules's world, he would've taken gold, silver and bronze. The effect was ruined, however, by the curls of white hair framing his face, and the strips of elastic cutting into his cheeks as Aerith tried to hook them over his ears.
"Padding," Leon said simply.
"Doesn't solve the broken foot issue, I'm afraid. It looks like you shall have to endure this task as you endure everything else: with your usual stoic demeanour and grunt-speckled silence."
"Oh dear, no," Aerith exclaimed, looking away from Leon to focus on Merlin. "He can't be silent. It'd ruin the effect. They'll be expecting him to laugh." Since she wasn't concentrating her fingers slipped and one of the elastic bands snapped back, catching Leon on the nose. He let out a curse that died on his lips when she looked at him disapprovingly.
Leon upped his glare to a Level Nine, which was reputed to incinerate Heartless at a hundred paces. "Why the hell didn't you watch where you were going?" he demanded of Merlin. "And why did you even leave that staff of yours on the floor in the first place?"
"Now don't be like that," Aerith chided. "You know the triplets have been looking forward to this – and the puppies. They may only be dogs, but they have feelings, and when you come right down to it they're babies. They deserve something special at this time of year. Now, Merlin has given you the charm to fit down their chimneys, but you have to look the part, otherwise… well, otherwise it would be a little bit creepy."
"Creepy like a man in a red suit with a cushion belted to his front tiptoeing around their room at night while they're asleep?"
"Just imagine their little faces in the morning when they see what you've left for them."
"I feel like a paedophile."
She tweaked his nose, which was still sore from the elastic. "Stop being so negative. Where's your Christmas spirit?"
"In one of Cid's bottles."
Aerith's face creased in worry. She nibbled her lower lip, the way she always did when something bothered her. Inwardly, Leon groaned. He could resist many things, and usually with his 'usual stoic demeanour and grunt-speckled silence', but when Aerith got that look it meant she was bordering on a full emotional offensive of the kind that left undemonstrative men hugging their neighbours and willingly looking for hands to shake. People made the mistake of thinking that because Aerith didn't fight she was defenceless. In some battles she was the unchallenged champion of the universe.
Leon tried to resist. He really did. But, as ever, he failed. Aerith was just too good at making him feel guilty without having to start an actual guilt-trip.
She brightened when he hooked the elastic over his own ears and put on the hat to disguise them. The bobble flopped forward into his eyes.
"Now let's hear you do the laugh," she said, delighted.
"Ho, ho, ho," he deadpanned.
Fin.