Mistletoe and Santa Impersonators
Title: Mistletoe and Santa Impersonators
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: G
Word Count: 700
Disclaimer: I have no delusions that I own anything from "Heroes" - that's all Tim Kring's.
Christmas/Holiday gift for filmchickjen - prompt: mistletoe.
A/N: this wasn’t the original idea I was going to use for “mistletoe”, but it was too cute not to do instead - blame the playlist on my local radio station :)
When the phone rings to begin with, he slaps at the alarm clock, trying to turn it off before burrowing back into his nest of blankets. The second time it rings, he’s more awake. “What?” he growls into his cell.
“Uncle Peter?”
The girl’s voice is scared, barely more than a whisper, and Peter feels his heart jump. Something has to be seriously wrong for her to be calling him like this, at - he rubs his eyes, squinting at the clock - three am on Christmas morning. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks as he jumps out of bed, trying to pull his jeans on; he’d learned the hard way that rescue missions always went better when he was wearing pants.
“Daddy’s not here, I’ve looked everywhere - even under his bed - and…” she hesitates, then her voice grows even softer, “and Mommy’s kissing a stranger downstairs.”
Peter knows something’s horribly wrong now. “Are you sure, Bella?” Maybe she’s just had a bad dream, he tries to convince himself.
“Un-huh. And you know what’s even worse? He’s pretending to be Santa Claus! He’s got the suit and a really ugly beard but he’s way too skinny. He’s definitely NOT Santa. But he’s got Mommy convinced, because she keeps saying “Oh, Santa, I’ve been such a good girl this year” - how can she be fooled like that?”
Crap. Those two sex freaks would just have to be caught playing some sort of twisted game on Christmas. Of course. How was he going to explain this one? He sighs; at least the little one wasn’t in any danger.
“Um… what else did you see?” He hopes that she’s not been too scarred, but sudden inspiration hits him - maybe he can talk his way out of this mess. “Are there some flowers or something green hanging from the ceiling?”
“Yeppers. How did you know that, Uncle Peter?” Bella sounds amazed that he’d known that fact.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s mistletoe. It’s a tradition to kiss people under the mistletoe. It’s okay, I bet Mommy was just… um… thanking Santa for bringing such good gifts for you this year. And since there was mistletoe, she just had to kiss him. It’s a rule.”
“Why was Santa so skinny then? Has he been sick?”
Peter bites his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Santa’s trying to be healthier, be a better influence.”
“If you say so.” Her tone clearly implies that she doesn’t believe him. “Okay, then - where’s Daddy?”
“He’s… outside… um… feeding the reindeer.” Mentally, he begs every deity he can think of that she believes that lie.
“He’s been gone for at least twenty-three minutes.”
Peter hates the fact that she’d inherited her father’s sense of timing. “They were really hungry. It takes a long time to feed twelve really hungry flying reindeer. At least... um… an hour.”
“Uncle Peter?”
He’s hesitant when he asks “Yes, Bella?”
“Have you already bought my Christmas gift this year?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” He’s thrilled at the abrupt change in topic.
“Oh. I want a reindeer now. I guess I’ll just ask Daddy instead.” She yawns.
“You do that. Now, are you okay? It’s awfully late and you sound really sleepy.”
She yawns again. “Mmm-hmm. ‘Night, Uncle Peter. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
- - - - - - - - - -
At brunch the next morning, Peter pulls Sylar to the side as soon as he gets a chance. “So, I had a lovely late night call last night.”
“I don’t want to hear about your booty calls, Peter.”
“Smartass. It was Bella. Someone saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus.”
Sylar just freezes, and Peter wishes he had a camera to capture that look on his face for eternity.
“Don’t worry, I made up something and told her to go back to bed. By the way, if she asks you how the reindeer were, tell her they were really hungry.”
“What?” Sylar just looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Well, that might explain why she kept jumping all over me asking for a blitzen this morning. I just thought she was mispronouncing her words again.”
“Don’t ask. Look, I covered for you two yet again, but please - just keep it behind closed doors for once!”