Christmas Eve: A Sugar & Spies Tale

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

“Leona?  Sweetie, you look sad; tell Daddy’s what’s wrong,” Napoleon said as he lifted the four year old onto his lap.  She was wearing her favorite footie pajamas.  It was seven o’clock in the evening and her bedtime. 

“Tomorrow is Christmas and our house doesn’t look like Christmas.  Paige’s house has lights and a Christmas tree and weaths on the doors.  Our house looks like it does every day.”

“Oh, honey!  That’s only because Papa and I were out of town working and you were with your aunt and uncle.  I have it on very good authority that Santa Claus is bringing Christmas along with your presents.  Oh, and by the way, they are called wreaths, not weaths.”

“Wreaths,” she repeated dutifully.  “Daddy, are you sure?”

“That they’re called wreaths?  Absolutely.”

The little girl laughed, sadness forgotten.  “No, Silly Daddy!  I meant about Santa bringing Christmas!”

They could hear Papa unlocking the front door.  Leona wiggled on Daddy’s lap and met her other father just as he was finishing resetting the alarm system.  “Hi, Papa!” she exclaimed as he bent down to hug and kiss her.  “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Daddy said Santa is bringing Christmas tonight!  Can I stay up and wait for him?”

“’May I stay up’ and no, you may not because the way Daddy explained it to me, Christmas Magic does not work until all the good children have gone to bed.  Is that not right, Daddy?” Illya asked as he walked into the living room followed by his daughter.

“That’s right and the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa will be here.  Let’s get you into bed, Little One.”

The two agents kissed her goodnight and then sat with her until she fell asleep.  As they walked out of her room, Napoleon turned to his partner and said, “Where is everything?”

“In the hallway; the doorman helped me bring up the tree and the decorations and gifts are still locked in my gun closet.”

“Great, let’s get started.   The sooner we finish this the sooner we can sip a little Christmas Magic of our own.”

The next morning, Leona awakened bright and early.  She went to the bathroom and when she was finished, she went to the living room.  What she saw caused her to start yelling, “Daddy!  Papa! Come quick!  Come now!”

Both men stuck their heads out of their bedroom doors, fairly certain what all the shouting was about, but each had their weapon drawn and hidden behind the door.  “What is it, Daughter?” Illya asked innocently.

“Santa’s been here!  Look at the tree!  Look!  Oh, he even put the presents I got for you under the tree!  How did he know where I hid them?”

She was so happy and so excited they couldn’t help but laugh.  Napoleon put on his bathrobe as did Illya and they sat on the couch and admired “Santa’s” handiwork.  “Daddy, Papa?  May I open my presents?”

The two men smiled at the little girl who had become their very own miracle.  “Yes,” they answered in unison, “Merry Christmas, Leona Nicole.”