Short one today, sorry :D Chapter Five, originally titled Do We Have Any White Flags? will be longer. And contain action. And a certain red head who isn't named Holly.

DISCLAIMER: Insert wit here.

The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas

Chapter Four: Do We Have Any Napkins?

In which there is pizza, things that happen vigorously and Clare acts like a stalker.

December 7

I was jolted from sleep by a tinny ringing – my phone. My faithful link to the real world. Also a waker of sleepers, making it into a little bastard. I vaguely considered throwing it out the window, but it was frozen shut. I sat up, exposing my neck to the freezing air. God, couldn't they afford heating? I knew Angeline liked Prada, but…

And just to make things a bit worse-

Twas Amelia.

"This better be important." I said.

"How is everything?"

I lay down and curled up, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to say it's good. I have an undercover operative by the name of Beckett." I didn't think to mention my handing over of the meat-products. Amelia was all for doing things by the book. My old mentor, Grace, and I were into slightly more unorthodox methods. Needless to say, Grace and Amelia didn't get along.

"I thought that he'd be useful."

"He tipped paint all over Artemis and Holly."

Amelia laughed, then remembered it was unorthodox and frowned. I could somehow hear it over the phone. No, I don't know how.

"How are things back home?"
"Good." she said. There was a click and the phone was put on loudspeaker. I heard a bunch of kids yelling their way through the Batman version of Jingle Bells. Another click and it was one on one again. "We had twelve kids leave this morning, but it's still pretty full. We've got six coming back from long-term undercover operations this afternoon. Two are from Maximum Ride."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"Well, I've got to go. We're surrounded by snow, and I have to find something to entertain Beckett and Myles that doesn't involve too much mess or too much sabotage of their brother's love life. I don't want to turn them into agents of evil."

"Good luck."

"I'll need it."

….

I ended up introducing Myles to Barbie dolls (found in the attic) and playing cars with Beckett.

"Vroooom, beep! Out of my ways, Becks!"

"Wee-oo-wee-ooo!"

"Giselle, you will look so much more amazing in the blue one."

Yes. Yes she would.

"Try her in the pink mini, Myles." I suggested, stopping at a petrol station with my bright yellow Ferrari.

"Please, she would look tacky."

Hmmm. I checked the time. Half past ten.

"I must leave you now, boys. Time for Clare to go clean…the bathrooms. Yes, not Artemis's room at all."

Myles was too focused on plaiting Rapunzel Barbie's hair to even look at me suspiciously. I patted Beckett on the head, collected my duster and skipped upstairs to Artemis's room.

I slowed to a walk as I reached the heavy, dark door and knocked a couple of times. No answer.

Excellent.

Except the door was locked. Untrusting little…I smiled, pulled a bobby pin from my pocket and slid it into the silver lock. Four minutes later, with a couple of judiciously applied kicks, the door was open and the lock mostly intact. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Artemis's room was pretty simple – dark green carpet and off white walls, with a massive four poster bed. There was a painting with lots of lines and a green lady hanging by the wardrobe. I assumed it was a recreation, but when it comes to Artemis Fowl, who knows?

Hmm. I turned to the wardrobe, built into the wall opposite the bed and opened it. No clothes. There was a massive plasma TV and four DVD players.

I wandered over to the huge floor to ceiling window and the desk beside it.

There were no papers or books out, just a closed silver laptop and a pen. Hmmm. I opened the drawers – nothing but folders and books in foreign languages. I recognized French, German (of course), Italian and Mandarin. Maybe there would be something in those folders.

And there was. Oh boy. For the sake of plot and to keep some mystery in the fic, I won't tell you what. By the time I'd finished skimming through the first two in the top drawer, it was half past eleven. I'd have to leave in a minute.

Remembering something Hannah had once mentioned, I shut the drawers carefully and headed over to Artemis's bed. He had those fancy matching bedside tables, two drawers in each. These were empty as well, but when I peered under the bed, I found them. Some were dusty, but some were new and glossy. I flipped through them, trying not to laugh. Sex And The City 2: The Novelisation, Nancy Drew and the Curse of the Blue Diamonds, Shrek The Movie Novel.

Yep. Each to his own. I slid the books back under the bed and headed back to the door. I'd have to pay a visit when Artemis was out of the house. Think of me as Santa – Santa with an X-Ray scanner and proper lockpicks.

"Are you guys getting hungry?"

Beckett flung his hands up in the air and cried, "Pizza!"

Myles simply nodded. I pulled a shoe out of his hair and ushered them downstairs.

"What do you feel like for lunch?" I asked Beckett. Myles was in front of us – he'd mastered the stairs at sixteen months. Beckett, on the other hand, was too lazy to climb up or down the pre-dug shafts.

"Pizza pizza pizza."

"Would you like to learn a song about pizza?"

He nodded vigorously. I smiled, and as we reached the entry hall (still only half decorated with lights and holly), I thought all the way back to Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code.

I guess it was lucky I'd been focusing on the next Batman film to come out, because I couldn't remember the pizza song. This meant I wasn't singing it when I opened the kitchen door to find Artemis and Holly doing something…something wrong.

….

They were cooking.

"Jesus!" I said, putting Beckett in his high chair. "Would it kill you to put the lid on the blender? There's jelly everywhere."

And there was. Red jelly dripped from the ceiling, the walls. Myles picked up a blob and licked it.

"Crannleberry." he said.

"Oh." I stared down Artemis and Holly, who hadn't even bothered to turn around. "Excuse me?"

"We're icing cupcakes. One minute."

I poured the twins cups of milk, screwed their little sippy lids on top and handed them over. I found a mop. I found a bucket.

I waited.

I waited some more. The duo continued to ice and whisper.

"Pizza?" asked Beckett.

I checked the two freezers. "Sorry Becks, no pizza. How about pancakes?"
Beckett looked at Myles. Myles looked at Beckett. They nodded.

"Becks?" asked Artemis.

"Yes, Becks. He likes being called that, don'tcha?"

Beckett was drinking his milk.

Finally Artemis gave me some of his attention.

"What are you doing? I cleaned in here yesterday, and now you're messing it up with cranberry jelly and-"

"Cranberry sauce."

"And cranberry sauce and your pie has exploded." I pointed at the oven, the inside of which was decorated with orange goo.

"Ah."

"Ah yes. Would you like me to skip cleaning the attic and do in here again?"

Holly pushed past Artemis and pulled open the oven. "I'm sorry," she said, grabbing mitts. "We can clean it up, we made the mess."

I pulled a frying pan down from a hook on the wall, thinking of the time I'd cleaned a kitchen with Matt.

"Absolutely not." I said, recalling towel flicking and bubble fights. "You're on holiday, Miss Short. Sorry to have made such a fuss, Mr Fowl."

Oh, how I hate to apologise.

"It's perfectly fine, Miss Martin."

I started to work around the pair, and made pancakes for the twins and myself. As I cleaned up (pity Artemis wasn't paying attention then) I pulled out my mobile and set up the camera so it would transmit video to my laptop. I hid it in a high, glass fronted cabinet.

"Well," I said, lifting Beckett out of his high chair. "Call me when you're finished."

"Yes. Thanks, Miss Martin."

"My pleasure, Miss Short. My pleasure."

…

Artemis and Holly had been baking all morning, and continued well into the afternoon. They made six kinds of cake, seven batches of cupcakes, nine kinds of pie and fifteen trays of biscuits. They fed each other. They flicked batter around. They leaned across and dabbed icing off each others faces. I nearly flung the damn computer across the room with the cheesiness of it.

"Whatcha watching?"

"Hmm?" I looked over at the twins, who were staring at me.

"Nothing." I said. "Go back to Finding Nemo."

And they did, and I was free to eye-roll and feel like a voyeur in peace. As long as there were no lips involved, I'd let Artemis do what he wanted.

Of course, he didn't know that I'd be staking out his room that night.

Again, sorry for the brevity. Ah, well. Thanks for reading, and all the wonderful reviews!

-Nicola.