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.

"So, what do you think about marriage?"

Scott's question came out of nowhere, catching Bernard off guard. His head snapped up to gape at Scott in shock, his foot coming down on the icy pathway wrong. The slippery ice sent his foot forward, and gravity sent the rest of him to the ground. He swore darkly, wincing, as his rump connected painfully with the earth.

Scot hurried to pull him to his feet, asking in concern, "You alright?"

Ignoring his question, Bernard brushed Scott's hands away, still staring in disbelief. "What…what do I think about marriage?"

"Yeah." Scott looked at him expectantly. Bernard inwardly panicked. But technically that hadn't been a proposal. Scott was just asking about the idea of marriage. That was it. Bernard tried to calm his fluttering heart with those thoughts. Not a proposal by any means. Not even suggesting that the two of them get married. Just the concept of marriage.

Making sure his expression was unconcerned, and watching his step more carefully, Bernard clasped his hands behind his back as he and Scott continued on their walk. "I think it's pretty pointless, actually."

"Really?" Scott was surprised. Bernard shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"It's just a bunch of paperwork," he said. "If two people love each other, who needs all the paperwork?"

"The paperwork makes it official," Scott lightly argued.

"It's up to the couple to decide what's official and what's not, isn't it?" Bernard countered. "Then there's the mess that divorce brings…just seems like a waste of time, to me."

"I guess," said Scott, frowning at the snow falling before them. Bernard felt a pang of guilt, but he shoved it brutally side.

He's not disappointed, he told himself. He wasn't about to propose. Still, he reached out to hold Scott's hand in case he was. The guilty pang subsided a bit when Scott smiled and squeezed his hand tightly.

And Bernard thought that was that.

But then Scott broached the subject again at dinner, and it was a whole lot worse than the first time, in Bernard's opinion. Scott took his seat at the head of the long table that all the elves feasted at. Bernard's seat was at the very end, next to Scott. He was already seated when Scott brought it up.

"Would your opinion on marriage change if it was us getting hitched?" he asked, far too casually. His eyes were fixed on his food. Bernard's mouth went very dry. Oh God.

"Are—" His voice came out hoarse, and he hastily cleared his throat. "Are you…proposing?"

Scott glanced at him—he was definitely faking that blasé attitude, Bernard knew—and said, "Only if you want me to be proposing."

Bernard swallowed, his mouth feeling like cotton. "No, my opinion still stands."

"Why?"

"Because," Bernard said, turning his gaze forcefully to his plate, "I know I love you, you know I love you, and vice versa. A piece of paper telling us what we already know is just redundant. Like I said, who needs the paperwork?"

"I like the paperwork," Scott grinned. Bernard gave him a confused look, and Scott explained, "I know, I used to be a businessman, I should be sick of paperwork. But that's just it!" He was positively beaming. "As a former businessman, I like that the paperwork makes it official."

"Why does it matter that a piece of paper makes it 'official?'" Bernard demanded.

Scott shrugged. "There's just something comforting about knowing that, legally, you're mine and nobody else's, and I'm yours."

Bernard couldn't keep himself from smiling at the warm affection Scott's answer held. Still, Scott's argument didn't sway him.

"My opinion still stands," he repeated firmly. "And since you gave the option, I'm choosing to interpret this conversation as completely hypothetical, and not a proposal." Scott scowled, and Bernard turned his face up to kiss him briefly before capturing Quentin's attention on his other side and striking up a conversation with him.

After dinner, as Bernard sleepily made his way for his bedroom, he heard Scott say his name and felt him catch him by the hand. He turned, bemused. Was Scott accompanying him to his quarters tonight? Not that it wasn't an enjoyable idea, but it went against their agreement to save their particularly heated personal business for the weekends and days off only, so as to not be sleepy and sore during work. Tonight was Sunday night. They both had work in the morning.

"I'm not giving you any room for interpretation this time," Scott announced. "So tell me…will you marry me?"

Bernard stared up at him, his insides vanishing. Why was Scott asking that? Why couldn't he just let it alone? "You know how I feel about—"

"Yeah, I know, and I think that's a load of crap," Scott interrupted in that tactful way of his. Bernard glared at him. "Is this a commitment thing? Because you just said, like, four hours ago, that you and I both know—"

"I'm not afraid of commitment," Bernard said impatiently. "And I do love you, so shut up."

"Then why won't you marry me?" Scott asked. Bernard looked up at his suddenly vulnerable, nearly pleading face, and he sighed.

"Look, Scott, I've been around a long time," he said slowly. "I've seen a lot of marriages, and I've seen a lot of divorces. They're never pretty, and neither are the events leading up to them. Sometimes it's too much fighting. Sometimes it's abuse. Sometimes it's an affair. And sometimes it's just…loss of interest."

Scott stared at him, stunned. "You think you're going to get…bored with me?"

Bernard's expression went very blank with astonishment, and then he felt a surge of anger. Glowering furiously, he gripped the front of Scott's shirt and yanked him down to his height, crushing his lips to his. After a moment, he released him, still irate.

"No," he said angrily. "I will never, ever get bored with you. I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to think that."

"Then what—"

"You could get bored with me," Bernard said, and it felt like a punch in the gut to consider. "And I wouldn't want to deal with a divorce while going through that."

Scott looked horrified. "That's never going to—" But Bernard silenced him, pulling himself up to kiss him slowly, sadly. When he broke away, he sighed forlornly. "'Night, Scott." And he retreated into his bedroom.

But in the end, Bernard wondered if he ever stood a chance against another proposal from Scott. Maybe it was the way Scott proposed the second time. Maybe it was because Bernard really did want to marry him from the start. Either way, he was doomed the moment he walked into the main workshop Monday morning.

He paused, bewildered, when he saw that every single elf in the North Pole was packed into the room, staring up at him with grins spreading cheekily across their faces.

They needed to get to work! Testily, Bernard began sharply, "Uh—"

But Quentin, down below, hollered out, "One, two, three!"

And every voice shouted up to him, deafeningly loud, "BERNARD, WILL YOU MARRY SANTA?"

Bernard's mouth fell open, and he felt a warm pair of lips touch his temple. He turned to look at Scott, who was grinning a gentle grin.

"I'm never gonna get bored with you, either, you stupid little elf," he said. "Whaddya say, Bernard? Marry me?"

It was all Bernard could do to keep his legs from giving out beneath him, and so he sighed, smirking up at Scott. "Fine. Let's get hitched, boss."

Author's Note: M'nawww. Hurray for established couples! Hurray for Bernard being a drama queen! Relax, dude, it's just a wedding.