Um... very late Christmas fic? xD This is from an RP I did around Christmastime.

(Note: What Ienzo says in “elf’language” is really Japanese. The first thing he says is, “Xehanort does very bad things to me,” and the second is “Xehanort doesn’t let me sleep much.” xD)

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“We have to go WHERE!?”

Before they knew what had hit them, Xehanort and Ienzo were standing in front of McDougal’s Home for Terminally Ill Children, Xehanort dressed as Santa, and Ienzo dressed as an elf. It was indiscernible whether their reddish complexions were caused by the cold or unmitigated humiliation. Most likely, it was both. After a few moments of muttering irately to each other, Ienzo reached out a shaking hand to ring the bell. Almost immediately, they were greeted by a matronly woman in a demure dress and an apron, quite looking the part of a stereotypical housewife.

“You must be our Santa and our elf!” she cried in a hideously officious tone. “I’m Mrs. McDougal. Come in; come in! The children are waiting!”

“I hate children...” Xehanort muttered as he and Ienzo were led into a large, circular room with an inordinately huge Christmas tree in the back. Garlands of pine needles and rainbow lights were strung along the walls, and a multitude of stockings were hung in perfect order on the fireplace. Above the stockings was a miniature village also celebrating Christmas and a large gingerbread house on each end. The circular rug in the middle of the room, of course, was of an ornate red and green pattern, and hanging from the chandelier were many sprigs of holly. Xehanort and Ienzo would have been dazzled by the display, were it not for the 20 or so little rugrats running around and messing everything up, not at all acting terminally ill.

“Kids! Kids, listen up!” Mrs. McDougal called, but her command went completely unnoticed. “KIDS!!!” Still no answer. Ienzo and Xehanort exchanged mischievous looks, and Ienzo cleared his throat loudly.

“HEY, CALM YOURSELVES AT ONCE!” he shrieked, and every single child froze in his or her tracks. One even stopped in mid-jump after another’s toy and ended up falling flat on his face. Xehanort beamed with pride, and Mrs. McDougal just stood there in shock at Ienzo’s outburst. How could such a sweet, little girl be so imperious? she thought. She certainly was in for another shock when she would find out that Ienzo is a boy...

Ienzo and Xehanort shifted nervously in their spots as an eerie silence permeated the room, and the children still remained motionless, until one enthusiastic soul screamed, “SAAAAANTAAAAAA!” and all of the others followed suit, clamoring their approval as they gathered around Xehanort and Ienzo, grabbing at their coats and sleeves and talking all at once in an unintelligible cacophony that most likely consisted of all their Christmas wishes and then some. Xehanort and Ienzo huddled together in disgust. They were being violated by germy, little kids. As scientists, they knew very well the hideous amount of germs children carried, and they wanted them off immediately.

“Now, now, children, give them some room to breathe!” The children stepped back and formed a neat semi-circle in front of their guests. Xehanort and Ienzo, who quite coincidentally had been holding their breaths to protect against airborne germs, separated from each other’s grasp, gasping for air.

“Okay, now! Santa, why don’t you introduce yourself and your little friend?”

Xehanort cringed. “Hello, everyone,” he said flatly. “I’m... Santa. This is Ienzo– er... this is my elf. His name is Ienzo...”

“I WANNA PONY!!!” some kid shrieked.

“That’s... nice...”

“GIMME A PONY!”

Xehanort sighed exasperatedly. “You’ll have to wait until Christmas. Um... ho ho ho?” Ienzo giggled. “Shut up!” More giggling.

“I WANT MY PONYYYYY!” the kid shouted at the top of his lungs. He then kicked Xehanort as hard as he could in the shin.

“Ienzo, I— OWWWWWW!!!!!” Apparently, that kid would one day be a soccer star, were he not terminally ill, because Xehanort felt as if he had broken his leg. He held onto the spot that was kicked and hopped up and down on his other leg, whimpering pathetically.

“You little brat, you hurt my Xehanort!” Ienzo almost summoned his book to smack some manners into the little thing, but then he remembered that these children were terminally ill, so he decided to just tend to his poor, histrionic boyfriend.

“Are you okay?” he purred, stroking Xehanort’s hair comfortingly.

“Why are you calling Santa that weird name!?” another kid yelled, giving Ienzo the death glare.

“Oh, that’s elf-language for... ‘high and exalted ruler!’” Xehanort said, beaming. Ienzo rolled his eyes.

“Say something else in elf-language!” the kid, now in a staring-match with Ienzo, demanded.

Ienzo smirked. “Um... Xehanort wa boku ni totemo warui koto wo shimasu!” Xehanort promptly turned bright red.

“Ienzo!”

“What?”

“You can’t say that in front of terminally ill children!”

“Why not? They can’t understand me.”

“What did you say?” a little girl asked, her eyes wide and a curious smile on her face, which did not appear terminally ill in the least..

“Er... that was elf-language for... um... ‘Our high and exalted ruler is magnanimous and respectful,” Ienzo extemporized.

“Oooooh, say something else!” the little girl squeaked.

“Er... Xehanort wa boku wo amari ni nemurasemasen!” Ienzo giggled.

“Why is Santa’s face all red?” the girl asked.

“I’m Santa; I’m supposed to have a ruddy complexion!” Xehanort said defensively. “Okay, that’s enough elf-language now... How about now we— UWAAAAH!” Xehanort practically jumped out of his Santa suit as Mrs. McDougal seemingly appeared from nowhere between himself and Ienzo with a tray of cookies.

“Time for snacks!” she chirped. “After that, you can all tell Santa what you want for Christmas!”

“You know, these children don’t act very terminally ill. What do they have, exactly?” Xehanort said, wincing. His leg still felt like it had been compound-fractured.

“Is it contagious?” Ienzo squeaked.

“No, no, nothing contagious!” Mrs. McDougal replied.

“What exactly IS wrong with them?” Xehanort asked.

“They’re terminally ill.”

“With what?”

“...terminal illnesses. OKAYSTORYTIME! Santa, tell the children a story!” Mrs. McDougal shot Xehanort a very incongruous glare and went to hand out the cookies... well, tried to hand out the cookies. All of the children dove on the plate, fighting over the cookies. Disturbingly enough, quote a few curse words were discernible.

“Er... Right, a story...” Xehanort smirked. “Once upon a time, there was a VERY naughty boy named Ienzo...”

Ienzo snickered. “Xehanort!”

Mrs. McDougal turned around, giving Xehanort a scolding look. “ I don't think that story's very appropriate!”

“Fine,” Xehanort sighed. “Once upon a time, there was a very NICE little boy named Ienzo who... uh... wanted a choochoo train for Christmas more than anything.”

“A choochoo train!?” Ienzo huffed.

“What!?”

“Isn't Ienzo your elf's name?” a child interrupted.

“Oh, did I say Ienzo? I meant, um... Lorenzo. Yes, once upon a time, a boy named Lorenzo, not Ienzo, wanted a choochoo train for Christmas. He wanted to make sure he was on the nice list, so he... uh... sold his house to a bunch of orphans, but he still got a lump of coal for Christmas, because bill collectors came and threw his parents in debtor's jail because of what he did, THE END!” Rather than the applause he expected, the children reacted to Xehanort’s story with dead silence, and one threw her bouncy ball at Xehanort’s head.

Mrs. McDougal gave the last child her cookie, then swished back to Xehanort and hissed, “That... was the WORST story I've ever heard!” Ienzo’s a boy!? she thought, shocked. Never can tell, I suppose...

“Whaaat...? I thought it was very creative!”

“It didn’t even have a moral! We only tell stories with positive, uplifting morals around here!”

“Well, nobody told me that, and of course it had a moral! It’s... um... that good deeds don’t count as good deeds if they get your parents thrown in prison!”

“You’re not a very good Santa!”

“And you’re not as solicitous as you first appeared!”

Mrs. McDougal gasped. “How dare you!? You know what!? You’ve done nothing but cause trouble and question my institution, and your little shota-elf has quite an attitude problem! He should know better than to glare at terminally ill children!”

“I’m not a shota-elf!” Ienzo snapped. “I just look younger than I am, and I don’t believe for a second that any of these children are terminally ill! If they really are, where’s their medication, huh? From my experience, terminally ill children usually receive their medication with a nice snack like... oh, maybe cookies?” Of course, Ienzo had no experience with anything of the sort, but he knew what he was doing. He’d expose Mrs. McDougal for the fraud she was, and maybe even get some monetary indemnity for Xehanort’s injury and both of their emotional distress. “Most of these kids are the most disorderly brats I’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering. I demand an explanation!” Mrs. McDougal just stood there. “Not so clucky now, ne?”

“...get... out... NOW! Both of you, out!”

“Gladly!” Xehanort and Ienzo called in unison as they both turned and left.

The next day, Ansem sent some intelligence agents to investigate Mrs. McDougal. It turned out that her agency was a cover-up for negligent parents who would have had their children taken away. Instead of paying exorbitant fines, they dropped their brats off at the center and denied that they ever had kids. Needless to say, it was promptly shut down, and the kids were placed in suitable homes. Xehanort and Ienzo, of course, were more than adequately compensated, and Ansem and all of his apprentices had their best Christmas ever.