A/N: Sorry the update is after Christmas, but things have been busy. I think only two more chapters after this one. I originally envisioned story this as a one shot, but it grew so I had to expand my plot/character development a bit since . Not entirely happy with it, but thought I'd post it anyway. This is just Ender, Peter and El, but Neal will be in the next one.
I'm Telling You Why
"He is not going to fall for this," Peter told El, later on that night, a couple hours after they had tucked Ender into bed.
In honour of the elf, El decided to make Christmas cookies for Ender to find in the morning that "Legolas" had supposedly baked. Peter thought the plan was completely ridiculous, but knew he was going to be on the losing end of that argument.
Ender may have gotten into the idea of Santa Claus if it meant he got a four-wheeler out of the plan, but Peter didn't think the kid would believe the elf made him cookies. Ender didn't even like cookies. So much for an all-knowing elf.
"Oh where is your Christmas spirit Peter?" El asked, as she cracked an egg on the side of the bowl and let the contents fall, before dropping the shell into the bin. "This is going to be fun."
"And quite possibly traumatizing." Peter told her. "For all of us."
"All kids should believe in Santa Claus. It's part of the magic of Christmas," she responded, carefully mixing the eggs, sugar and butter together.
Peter placed his hands on his hips and frowned. "And if he decides to believe in Santa Claus you do realise we're eventually going to have to tell him Santa doesn't really exist." He pointed out. "Because he doesn't. We are clear on that, right?"
And he could already guess without asking which one of them would get that oh so pleasant task. As much as he loved June this was one time he was extremely frustrated by her generosity.
"I never told him Santa existed." El countered, now measuring flour and giving Peter a 'don't you dare ruin this look.' "I offered him a science experiment."
That thought was not at all comforting. "Which you seem to be tampering with the results of. He's good he gets his present, ergo Santa Claus exists."
"And how is that different from what countless other parents tell their children this time of year." El asked, stirring the dough more, without looking up.
Peter really didn't have anything to say to that. "An now if he's good we have to buy him a four-wheeler." Peter told her, already envisioning the chaos that would stem from such a gift. "You really want him driving one of those things around the neighbourhood?"
El gave him the look that said she thought he was being ridiculous. Or at least that he wasn't seeing the full picture. "Peter they make toy four wheelers. The ones that run off a battery and only go about five or six miles per hour."
She added more flour and then covered the dough and stuck it in the fridge to let it chill for an hour. "You can run at least that fast so it's not like he's going to be able to drive off on the thing and run someone over. Besides," she shrugged carelessly. "I already reserved one a couple weeks ago. All we have to do it is go pick it up."
Peter's jaw dropped and he gave her an incredulous look. "You did what?" He demanded.
El raised her eyebrows. "And this works out perfectly because now he can feel like he earned it with his good behaviour."
The agent opened his mouth to protest some more but El cut him off. "If you want to complain I'll let you do all the Christmas shopping this year by yourself, and that includes the presents for my parents."
That sobered Peter up pretty quickly. There was no way he was going to be responsible for choosing a present for Dr. Mitchell. Especially when the man would be able to guess it wasn't his perfect daughter who had chosen it.
"I just don't want to upset him." He told her, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. Dealing with Ender was always a challenge.
In some ways the kid was very mature. Well, not mature, but smart and extremely talented at whatever he tried. And when in the right mood he could have a very stimulating academic conversation with most adults.
But in other ways Ender was very young for his age. Sucking his thumb when he became upset, and displaying an extreme clinginess and temper one normally only saw in much younger children.
Peter knew the contradictory behaviour stemmed from the abuse Ender had suffered before he was adopted, and as such wasn't really bothered by it. But since their relationship with Ender was still tenuous he didn't want to do anything that might cause Ender to lose faith in them as parents.
El paused for a moment then grasped both Peter's hands in her smaller ones and pecked him on the lips. "Hon, it will be fine," she soothed. "He's not going to be upset that Santa Claus isn't real, he's only going to upset if he's good and doesn't get a present."
Peter wasn't so sure about that one, but El was raised by a shrink so in cases like this he tried to defer to her judgement.
The next morning found Peter and El having breakfast at the kitchen table when Ender ran in skidding across the floor in his socked feet. He managed to stop himself using the edge of the table, barely missing knocking over the milk pitcher with his elbow.
"Morning munchkin," Peter said as he sipped his coffee.
"I was good." Ender blurted out with a matter-o-fact tone, by way of greeting. Skating around on the floor he pulled himself along using the different chairs before dropping down into his seat.
"I'm sorry," Peter asked from over the rim of his mug.
"I was good," Ender repeated. "Did you tell him I was good last night?"
Peter just stared at him. "Who?"
"Santa's elf." Ender replied. He was sitting on the shelf in the living room so he couldn't see me. I want him to know I was good so I can get my four wheeler."
Peter shot El a glare, which she simply ignored.
"Ender it doesn't just count for one night. He reports back to Santa every night up until Christmas." El told him. "But I'm sure he told Santa how good you were last night." She quickly added and Ender's incredulous expression.
"In fact, I think he made you something. Did you see the counter?"
Ender shook his head, but eyes wide, jumped out of his chair and ran across the room.
Peter watched as he stopped in front of the counter, taking in the scene.
El had moved "Legolas" to sit, propped up with the toaster, next to a plate of iced Christmas cookies. With him was a small blackboard written in script the words, "An early Christmas treat from me to you."
Ender's face pinched a moment, before he shuffled back over to the table looking dejected.
"You didn't tell him I don't like cookies?" He asked rather morose.
"There for you to take to your teacher, to do sometihng nice for her." El told him.
Ender looked over at the plate then back at El suspiciously. "Why? She doesn't do nice things for me. She just tells me what to do, and sometimes she yells."
Okay, so Peter wasn't going to argue with that one.
"Ender it's nice to do kind things for other people, even if they haven't done something kind first." El carefully consoled. She was the one who usually took upon herself to talk Ender through whatever frustrating trauma occurred by Ender discovering the world didn't work the way he thought it should.
The kid huffed out a breath. "Am I supposed to tell her our elf from Santa made them? Because I don't think she believes in Santa Claus."
Peter bit back a chuckle.
"Just tell her you wanted to do something nice for her." El told him.
Ender seemed to think this over. "Okaaaay…" he drew out the word. "But I don't think it will go over very well." The kid stood on his chair so he could reach for the box of Cheerio's and then stood there carefully studying the label for the longest time.
El looked puzzled. "Ender it's okay to do nice things for you teacher. Why wouldn't she approve?"
Ender just gave a careful shrug and kept reading the label.
Peter waited another moment, then yanked the box out of the kid's hands to Ender's frustrated, "Hey I was still reading that."
"Stop stalling and answer your mother's question." He commanded, opening the box and pouring some cereal into the kid's bowl. Most parents wouldn't read too much into that statement, but he could never be sure where Ender (or Neal) was consered.
"I was checking to make sure it doesn't contain nuts." Ender pursed his lips. "I'd hate to die in the middle of breakfast from anaphylactic shock. Because a recent news article said 911 has an almost ten minute response time here in the city."
"You have an Epipen," Peter shook his head and added milk. "Eat, or we're going to be late."
Peter was sure this was still a stall tactic, because Ender very slowly put his spoon in the bowl, took out some cereal and put it in his mouth. The exaggerated chewing could have been from a film set to slow motion.
Another moment and he swallowed, then waited like he was expected the guillotine to drop and cut off his head.
Peter gave him enough time for a dramatic pause, then, "See your not dead, now why would your teacher be upset if you if you brought her cookies?"
"Do the cookies contain nuts?" Ender asked, turning to look at the plate still sitting on the counter. "Because if they do I think I might like to try one now."
"Sweetie, there are no nuts in this house," El told him as she started gathering up hers and Peter's dishes and take them to the sink. "Answer the question."
"I don't think she'll trust me to something nice for her. She might think I'm trying to trick her." Ender admitted, and then stuffed two spoonfuls of cereal in his mouth before he had to say anything else.
"And why is that?" El asked. Carefully rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher.
"Wellllll…Neal andMozzie and I…" Ender began and Peter cut him off before he no longer had the excuse of plausible deniability. "I don't want to know, I only want you to take her the cookies and give her your best apology."
Ender gave him the biggest saddest eyes and hung his head. "If I apologise do you think I'll still be good enough to get my four-wheeler?" He sounded utterly depressed. "Because this happened weeks ago, and I didn't know I was supposed to be good till yesterday."