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“What the Jinglesnap is that smell?” Bernard muttered, covering his nose with a sleeve. His head spun, his mind losing focus for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on beyond the fact the smell was unpleasantly making his magic tingle.
“Reindeer poop,” came the muttered reply from Mr. And Mrs. Santa Clause’s eldest.
“Oh,” Bernard frowned. “Hello, Buddy.” Something in the back of his mind told him the boy was up to trouble, getting on his father’s naughty list again. “How are you today?”
Of course, this resulted in Buddy's glare, making Bernard tense up. The boy was trouble, and not in the same way Charlie was when he went through his rebellious phase. Specifically, Bernard had a strange feeling Buddy didn ’t like him, yet he never mentioned that feeling to Santa or Mrs. Clause, thinking at first Buddy was simply annoyed with him in the same way some of the elves were.
And then Bernard realized there were others there with Buddy, which made sense given growing up at the North Pole—being born at the North Pole—meant the Christmas Elves were the only ones available to form a friendship. Not that Buddy disliked these friends of his, but he did find it bothersome that he didn ’t have any human friends.
Bernard tried being sympathetic towards this, trying to be there as he had with Charlie. Yet, Buddy—he certainly had a preference for Curtis, who spoiled the boy, getting in trouble for letting the rules slide because Buddy was a little kid, whereas Bernard didn ’t let breaking the rules slide, being honest with Santa.
“Reindeer poop?” Bernard frowned. “What were you doing that involved reindeer poop?”
Buddy laughed while the few elves were with him—a few who were also trouble, yet Bernard left getting rid of them up to Santa as he didn ’t know what to do about Buddy and his buddies. “Reindeer makes for good stink bombs, don’t you think?”
Bernard sighed, blinking his eyes as he tried to fight back the headache that was setting in. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with the running of the workshop.”
“Really?” Buddy asked.
Bernard tilted his head slightly, pushing his lips together. Something about the smell of reindeer poop was definitely making his head swim and his mind struggle to focus. That, or he was coming down with something.
“I mean, I thought you were a stickler for the rules,” Buddy said.
Bernard shook his head, not knowing what to say to that question, before pointing to the door. “I’m going to—if Santa’s looking for me, tell him I’ve got a headache, so….”
“Wait?” Buddy frowned. “You’re really playing hooky? What about the rules?”
“Your parents would kill me if I continued working while—yeah. My head hurts, so can we maybe—I think I’m going to leave now,” Bernard said, deciding to teleport away, planning on landing in front of his place so he could take some of the medicine Dr. Hismus gave him for when his head hurt.
Except, he landed in a pile of snow which soaked into his backside. His head spun, and he stood up and staggered right before his magic sparked and—
Bernard staggered backward as the nearby Christmas lights suddenly lit up right before exploding, causing the nearby elves to scream in fright. He muttered under his breath. “Jinglesnaps.” And then his knees buckled, his body trembling as some of the other lights started to flicker right before he vomited into the snow nearby, which frightened the younger Christmas Elves even more.
“Santa,” Bernard said, his throat hurting as his head did. He waved his hand. “Get Santa,” he said. “I need help.”
At first, he thought this only served to frighten them even more, but then Santa gently lifted him as he staggered onto his feet. “Bernard? What happened?”
“I think I’m coming down with something,” Bernard muttered.
“Then let’s get you to Dr. Hismus,” Santa said. “And don’t you dare think of telephoning there. It will take longer, but your magic is less likely to cause the lights to explode. At least that’s what I heard from an elf who came.”
“I hate my magical abilities,” Bernard muttered.
“Nonsense. There are elves who would love to have your teleportation ability,” Santa said, helping him stagger over to Dr. Hismus; Bernard grimaced, sure that the other elves were staring.
“They also don’t accidentally teleport to the wrong place when they’re under the weather. They don’t have magical flare-ups either,” Bernard muttered.
“Well, this is why you’re my head elf,” Santa said.
“Oh? Because I mess up?” Bernard said as the door to Dr. Hismus opened up, and Santa helped him onto one of the beds.
“No. Because your magic is as powerful as it is,” Santa said.
“It sucks,” Bernard said.
“Oh. A word Bernard doesn’t usually use,” Dr. Hismus said. “Must be bad. I’ll start my examination.”
Which, of course, was a typical pain in the neck Bernard preferred to avoid, yet he put up with it until he could get the diagnosis of staying in bed until the headache or whatever he was under cleared.
“Santa?” Dr. Hismus said. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Bernard sucked in his breath, knowing that something wasn't right when Dr. Hismus wanted to talk to Santa about something in private. He waited until—
“Bernard?”
“Yeah?” He kept his eyes closed.
“Out of curiosity, when did you start not feeling okay?”
“Reindeer poop,” Bernard said.
“Reindeer poop?”
“It’s not anything naughty that would get him on the naughty list,” Bernard muttered.
“Oh, really?” Santa said. “Buddy?”
“Don’t say I told you he’s wanting to pull a holiday prank with his friends,” Bernard said. “I told him as long as it doesn’t interfere with the workshop operations—holiday pranks aren’t against the rules, Santa. They don’t get you on the naughty list.”
Dr. Hismus cleared his throat. “Well, he’s too out of it to realize, isn’t he?”
“Just keep an eye on him. Bernard, you’re not to leave Dr. Hismus’ care.”
Bernard smiled, despite his head hurting, giving Santa a thumbs up as he heard him leave.
“Try to get some sleep, Bernard,” Dr. Hismus said.
To which he drifted off until—
“Bernard, wake up.”
His head still hurt. Letting out a sigh, Bernard started sitting up, muttering, “Buddy Clause.”
“What’s with,” Buddy started to say.
Bernard vomited over the side of the medical bed.
“Gross!”
Bernard wiped his mouth before letting out a groan. “Need something, kiddo.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Buddy said. “And you got me in trouble with my dad again.”
Bernard frowned, sitting up and groaning as his head pounded. “How? Holiday pranks aren’t against the rules. Not unless they negatively interfere with workshop business.” To which he said. “I’d appreciate you sticking a stink bomb under Curtis’ desk. To pay him back for all the trouble he tends to cause around the workshop.”
“Very funny,” Buddy said. “Stop pretending you didn’t tell my dad that we were smoking weed.”
“Smoking weed?” Bernard frowned, his magic flaring as he came awake. “What the jinglesnap, Buddy! What were you thinking?”
“That nobody would rat me out,” Buddy muttered.
Bernard shook his head as the lights started to crackle. “The list, Buddy. The list. He would have found out.” He glanced at the lights and said, “Oh, Jinglefarts.”
“You can say things like fuck, you know,” Buddy said as one of the lights overhead decided to explode.
To which Bernard flinched, his arms going over his head and his legs pulling up as he tried curling into himself as he sat there on the bed. “Bloody fuck! Get your dad! Get your dad now!”
“Why should….”
And then the light crackled again while Bernard ’s voice strained. “My magic is bloody on the fritz because I got a contact high from you bloody smoking weed!” And then another light exploded. He sucked in his breath. “Get out! Get out now!”
“Don’t tell me….”
“I’m a ticking time bomb, you idiot!” Bernard’s voice rose. “So fucking get out of here before you get hurt!”
Which Buddy left, and Bernard was left to himself, the lights going out when they finally exploded, his magic turning on the jars in the room as his entire body trembled. It wasn ’t Santa that found him, but Dr. Hismus.
“Bernard. What happened?”
“Why did you two tell me I’d gotten a contact high?” Bernard muttered, burying his face, flinching as his magic went off again in the dark.
“Because this would happen! How did you,” Dr. Hismus let out a sigh. “Give me your arm.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t because I’m dampening your magic, what with it acting up even though the clinic is supposed to be warded against magic being used.”
Bernard groaned.
“I didn’t want to, Bernard, particularly since you’re dealing with the side effects of being high on weed—and having a negative reaction at that, but I’ve got to do it.”
“I know. I know,” Bernard said. “I’m definitely out for who knows how long.” He felt Dr. Hismus take his arm and then the needle go in. Slowly, his body began to calm, only for the negative sensation of being cut off from his magic to set in. “I hate my magic.”
“I’m not going to dampen your magic permanently,” Dr. Hismus said. “We’ve been through this before.”
“Being cut off from that fuck fest is just as bad as being tied to it,” Bernard said.
“Did you just,” Dr. Hismus said.
“Sorry,” Bernard said.
“Try to get some rest.”
And then he vomited again, this time from the dampening of his magic. Dr. Hismus nudged him, making him take something to help him sleep.
When he came to, he was in his place, still feeling the effects of having his magic dampened. His eyes blinked, noting the blanket draped over him while the smell of cooking came from the other room, yet he ’d not been cooking. He sat up.
“Slow it down, Bernard.”
“Oh. Hi Santa,” Bernard said. “Sorry about this.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Santa said.
“Yes, there is.”
Bernard flinched, looking up at Buddy, who refused to look at him. “Oh. Hi, Buddy. I’m….”
“Buddy,” Santa sighed, cutting him off.
“I owe you an apology,” Buddy said.
“He got quite the scare from your magic acting up as it did,” Santa said. “But, I’d like to apologize as well. Buddy did come to me, but I’d sent him back to his room as he was grounded.”
“I’m really sorry for being,” Bernard started to say.
“You’re not a burden, Bernard,” Mrs. Clause said, handing him a plate of food. “And as usual, you’re to eat something. Dr. Hismus’ orders.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bernard said. “I know. I’m not allowed back on duty until my magic’s stabilized.” He glanced up at Buddy, getting the distinct feeling that things between them had gone from bad to a different kind of bad.