The Leprecorn's Christmas Song

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..."

Stanley could lie and say his boyfriend's singing was the sweet choir of angels, but he wasn't that good of a liar. That southern twang untuned any rhythm and beat he had to that half-screeching he called singing and the hoarse edge his voice was taking on due to days of singing the same songs made it sound like those two nerds were resurrecting the dead again. He could admit though, he had a talent for making Christmas carols on the banjo sound pleasing to the ear.

He plopped down next to his brother squatted in the snow, journal resting on his knees, poised to take note of any progress they were making, an annoyed look settling on his face that Stan swore he only saved for him.

"So, any progress?" he asked, smiling as that annoyance once more settled firmly on him.

"Three days and those dreadful beasts haven't changed their song," he hissed, those blood shot eyes boring into his own. "And to make matters worse they ate my sideburns..."

Stan's eyebrows quirked as he took full notice of his brother's missing, uneven hair on the sides of his face that really gave him that "crazed-mad-man-who-lives-in-the-woods-who-may-kill-us all" look the townspeople often said he had. He turned his head and pretended to cough as he chuckled lowly to himself at the situation his brother had put himself in.

"Don't you laugh, Stanley Pines," he hissed, eyes darting from his brother then quickly back towards Fiddleford's haggard form engulfed by the Leprecorns. "This could have been the scientific breakthrough-"

"You say that about everything, Poindexter," he scoffed, bumping his shoulder against his brother, playfully jostling the journal and bringing forth one of the most intense glares his brother had ever thrown his way.

He rolled his eyes at the expression and continued talking, even if the foreboding look his brother was sending him meant he wanted him to keep his mouth shut. "Besides, how is teaching those Stepford Smilers Christmas jingles any kind of breakthrough? Fidds taught his dumb mutt to bark Christmas carols, isn't that good enough?"

"Nevermind," Ford hissed after a few tense seconds of silence. Stan would be more annoyed with his attitude if he didn't already know it came from three days' lack of sleep. Hanging out here with these ugly-as-sin creatures who chanted "Danny Boy" in a hive mind-linked unison was punishment enough.

They both sat and watched his determined boyfriend strum the banjo at a sluggish pace, surrounded by the Leprecorns he had dressed in festive Christmas sweaters. He claimed it was to put them more in the "Holiday Spirit", as he had told Stan two days ago, but the heavy bags under his eyes and the way he swayed with each light breeze made it appear as if he had lost some of his own "Holiday Spirit" being around these sad, pathetic creatures so long.

"Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling..."

Fiddleford seemed to give up as they began their war cry over his Christmas songs and he too began strumming "Danny Boy" on his banjo, finally sinking to the ground to be more eyelevel with the creepy monstrosities.

Ford groaned, snapping his book shut at last and looking to the sky as if praying for God to smite these unholy abominations, muttering, "Not again..."

This seemed to be Stan's cue to take action. He looked over to his nerd and yelled out, "Hey, Fidds! Break time!"

Fiddleford rose once more from the mound of Leprecorns moving closer and closer towards him as he continued to sluggishly play their gospel.

"Did ya bring coffee, Stanley?" he called, not pausing his tune as the Leprecorns nuzzled against him in appreciation for giving instrumental to their chanting.

"Better, I got ya that hot cocoa ya like so much from the cafe on Main Street!"

Stan melted at the bright grin Fidds sent his way. "The peppermint one with the cinnamon marshmallows?!"

"Yeah, it's in the Stanmobile! Get over 'ere before I give it to these ugly things!"

Fiddleford was a flash of lightening, picking up his banjo and bolting past the Leprecorns before crashing into Stan at a speed that knocked them both to the ground. Ford rolled his eyes at their open display of affection as Fiddleford snuggled against Stan on the ground. He rescued the fallen banjo off the ground before the already moving Leprecorns could lay claim to it.

Fiddleford was already half in a doze the second he leaned into Stan's shoulder, three empty containers that once held his favorite hot chocolate lying in front of him. Stan pulled him closer to him in a warm embrace as they sat watching the sun go down on the hood of the Stanmobile. He kissed his forehead, encouraging him to rest for a while until Ford was finally ready to call defeat for today and they could leave. Squatting once more in the snow beside the car, Ford was finishing the final details of his research regarding the Leprecorns.

"Really, it's not defeat, Stanley," he said, not looking up from his notes. "Me and Fiddleford thought there was some intelligence in these creatures since they do know some English, but we were mistaken. They don't comprehend even the simplest of tasks or inquiries. Not being able to change their song to simple songs even children can understand and mimic proves they don't match up to human intelligence. The fact that they can sing only that one song must be some kind of weird vocal pattern...I will have to dissect them for further investigation..."

"Don't you dare," Fidds hissed, rising up from Stan's shoulder. "Just because they didn't change their song when we asked doesn't mean they don't comprehend. Maybe they just don't like Christmas carols. They responded positively to my banjo playing 'Danny Boy' and they asked in their own way for me to keep playing it. They may not be the most intellectual creatures we've encountered but they ain't dumb."

"But..." he began, looking up from his journal with just as stern of a look on his face.

"No 'buts', you ain't dissecting those creatures for whatever reason unless it was already dead first! It's wrong to-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a screech from above, silencing the cacophony of "Danny Boys" that had long since been reduced to background noise. The intense stare down Fidds and Ford were giving each other instantly dissolved as their attention was redirected towards the sound.

A giant griffin straight out of one of their D, D and more D manuals swooped down and latched onto one of the Leprecorns, whose grin never faded as he was pulled away from his brethren and into the sky. It stayed silent for a few seconds afterwards before the cacophonous roar of "Danny Boy" met their ears once more.

Fiddleford jumped up from the hood and clasped his hands over his mouth and Stan heard the muddled words as he pulled Fidds close to him.

"It took Danny..."

A wide, manic grin stretched across Ford's sleep-deprived face as he watched the griffin and the Leprecorn become a silhouette in the twilight horizon.

"Alas, poor Danny boy," he stated without an ounce of remorse as he shoved them both towards the car to chase down their next project.

-End