So I got like nine reviews for that last chapter, and 46 alerts in three days? I don't think I've ever had an uptake that fast.
So all of you are brilliant, even the ones that just read it, but most especially the ones who leave a little something for me.
Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top leave a review - telling me what I can improve - what isn't quite right, what you'd like to see, and if you feel like inflating my ego a little bit, tell me what I'm doing well. I'm serious, the entire is being made up as I go along, so if you leave a prompt and I like it, it could end up being written, like really soon.
Anyway, bye from me - and hi from FitzSimmons and Skye. See ya tomorrow.
"Oh. Santa got it for me last Christmas." Simmons' was distracted, searching in the fridge for something as she replied to Skye's question - the younger girl nearly choking on her coffee.
"Simmons..." Her voice was hesitant, not entirely sure of the answer her question would bring. "You do know that Santa's not real, right?"
"Of course. Doesn't mean he can't still bring me presents." Jemma's tone was matter of fact.
"Yeah." There was a humorous edge to her voice this time. "It kinda does."
"No it doesn't." She was firm in the way she always was when she knew what she was talking about and knew she was right. "Just because you know Santa isn't real by the time you're seven or eight, doesn't mean you can't still benefit from his generosity."
From the corner - momentarily scaring the two girls hadn't even realised he'd walked into the room - Fitz spoke up, his mouth moving before his brain could catch up. "Seven or eight? Simmons. You were fourteen, when your little brother - who happened to be five at the time - told you Santa wasn't real. And if your parents recall correctly, you cried abo..."
He was cut off with a sharp yelp, as an apple - bright red and crispy, only freshly retrieved from the fridge - bounced off of his forehead, before rolling off to parts unknown and disappearing underneath a cupboard.
Muttering under his breath about insane women, he stalked out of the room quickly before any other projectiles could find their way to his vicinity.
Skye turned back to Jemma.
"Fourteen?" The word itself was a question, with a disbelieving undertone clear.
"I ... I ... I - well, how old were you when you found out about Santa?"
All of a sudden, the little speck of dust to the left of the oven, and as far from Simmons' line of sight as possible, became very interesting.
"We didn't really ... where I grew up. It doesn't matter." Skye's voice was quiet, and the unspoken request to change the subject was actually picked up on by the biochemist, and the matter was dropped.
The weeks passed faster than she thought they would, and all of a sudden it was Christmas morning - and somehow she was spending it with Ward and his little brother - who in his late twenties, wasn't actually that little anymore.
It was the last present on the pile, wrapped in red paper decorated with reindeer, with a dainty little card - a message handwritten on the back, the writing pretty but not anyone's she recognised.
Looking closer she read the words,
Merry Christmas Skye.
Sorry I missed a few.
Santa
Skye would deny til her dying breath the grin that didn't leave her face for the entirety of the day.
Thank you for reading, and please review,
Mia
