500 stories! Woot! In this little Christmas fic, Santa visits the Westen household. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine!
"This is a good idea."
Michael Westen looked at the woman he loved, the woman he had risked everything to be with. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea. I'm just saying… Don't you think it's a little soon?"
"She's two years old, Michael!" Fiona turned her head and looked at their two year old daughter who was playing quietly with her building blocks. Little Abigail Claire Westen was her mother's world, and her father's pride and joy. Her arrival was unexpected, but now they couldn't imagine their life without her.
Abigail looked up, and on seeing her parents watching her, she giggled and waved at them.
Michael's heart melted, and he waved back at his baby girl.
"She's going to be fine, Michael. It's Santa Claus!" Fiona retrieved two yogurts from the refrigerator and two spoons from the silverware drawer. Sam Axe had insisted on dressing up as Santa Claus and coming over on Christmas Eve with a full beard and a sack full of toys, and Fiona thought it was a great idea.
Michael was a little less enthusiastic, but as usual, Fiona got her way. And that afternoon, Fiona dressed her little girl in a red dress with black shoes, then put a tiny red bow in her hair.
Abigail had immediately proceeded to try and remove her shoes, but a stern look from her mother made her pout and sit down in resignation.
Madeline, along with Nate and his family, arrived at the loft first. Sam wasn't supposed to get there for another hour, so Madeline took the time to fuss over her only granddaughter.
Fiona watched as Madeline scooped Abigail up in her arms and snuggled her. "There's my girl!"
Michael and Nate exchanged knowing looks. Since her grandchildren had been born, Madeline had been making a genuine attempt to cut back on smoking. She hadn't been able to quit entirely, but she was smoking less and less every day, which thrilled her sons.
Ruth joined Madeline with Charlie, and an hour later, there was a booming knock on the door. Michael had Abigail in his arms, and she was content to snuggle against his shoulder and suck on her fingers. The adults exchanged looks, and Fiona went to the door, pulling it wide open.
"Kids, look who's here! It's Santa!" she announced.
Charlie's eyes lit up, and he wiggled out of his father's lap. "Santa!"
Sam made his way into the loft, carrying a large red sack. "Ho, ho, ho!" he exclaimed jovially.
Michael hesitated before moving forward with Abigail. "Look, sweetheart. It's Santa Claus." He placed her on the floor, then took a step back.
Sam knelt in front of the little girl, setting his bag down. "Hello, little girl. That's a very pretty dress."
Michael sensed something was wrong long before anyone else, but he tried to ignore the feeling.
For a moment, Abigail stared at Santa. Then her lower lip puckered, and a frightened wail escaped her tiny mouth.
"Aw, Abs, don't cry," Sam soothed to no avail. She screamed louder, terrified.
"Okay, that's enough." Michael lifted his little girl off of the floor and settled her against his chest. Immediately she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck, sobbing.
Madeline ushered Nate and Charlie into the kitchen, ignoring Charlie's protests. Fiona remained where she was, feeling guilty and upset that her daughter was crying.
Feeling terrible, Sam pulled off the beard and hat so that Abigail could see his face. "It's okay, princess. It's just Uncle Sam. I'd never hurt you."
Slowly Abigail peered over her shoulder. Seeing Sam, she relaxed and wiped at her nose, then reached for him.
He took her without hesitation. "I didn't mean to scare you, sweetheart." He kissed her dark hair and glared at his best friend.
Michael held his hands up. "Hey, I'm the one who said this was a bad idea."
Sam looked at the sniffling little girl in his arms. Maybe Michael had been right. She was still young, and he'd managed to terrify her while he was trying to teach her about Christmas.
Michael reached for his daughter. "Put your hat and beard back on before Charlie sees you and Santa ruins another Christmas."
"Don't blame me, pal." He kissed Abigail again. "It's okay, sweetpea. Uncle Sam loves you."
He was rewarded with a sloppy baby kiss before Fiona took Abigail out of his arms and carried her away. He watched them go, then put his hat back on and put the beard back into place. "I'll try again next Christmas."
Michael just shook his head. "We'll try it again when she's not terrified by a jolly fat man in a red suit."
A/N: Aww, poor Abigail and Sam! He would feel so bad for scaring his favorite niece! Here's to another 500 stories! Thanks for reading, and please review!