#*says the grown ass woman playing with her virtual barbies*

[tamis-fabulous-adventure]

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[distant-rose]

Hey Rose! When do the Little Pirates stop believing in Santa, since it is the holiday season? And how did they find out? I love Little Pirates so much!

Hi wonderful, I know that this question has been sitting in my inbox for like a week and I’m sure you didn’t think I was going to answer it but the reason it took this long was because I was already planning on a fic in regard to Neddy founding out that Santa doesn’t exist and Wes causing chaos. Therefore, your answer is going to be a 2600 word ficTitle: Claus ChaosSummary: Emma Swan didn’t have a good track record with Christmas as a child, which is why she tends to go all out with the holiday spirit now that she has children. Unfortunately for her, her children aren’t so appreciative of it.Word Count: 2,900+Rating: T+

Emma Swan did not have a good track record with Christmas as a child. Christmas was meant for kids who had families and people who loved them. It wasn’t a holiday for lost girls. Didn’t matter how many donated barbies or dollar store toys she got from the local charities, it didn’t make up for the fact that most of her classmates were home and enjoying the Christmas season with their families while Emma was stuck in foster homes who ignored the holiday more often than not.

Christmas had been a time when she had felt the most alone, which was now why she went out of her way to ensure her kids had the best memories ever. Where her holiday memories were nothing but bad cable and microwaved meals, Emma now baked cookies, decorated trees, risked her neck to hang fairy lights off the roof and Frank Sinatra’s Christmas classics blared in her kitchen nonstop. 

Killian thought Christmas was odd. He didn’t understand they celebrated it, especially when it was a part of a religion virtually none of them followed but he understood Emma’s need for their children to have good memories, especially when their own lives where so dark. Therefore, he indulged her need for crazy Christmas traditions and observations.

Including getting pictures taken with Santa Claus.

The tradition had manifested during her time in New York. According to the fake memories provided by Regina, Emma had taken Henry to the Macy’s Santaland every year to get his photo taken with Santa. It had been something that they had continued to despite recovering their memories in a way to keep some normalcy in their lives. Even when Henry was quite clearly aware that Santa wasn’t real, he had indulged his mother and had even continued to be in the photos well into his late teens in order to keep his little siblings happy.

Now, Henry is grown up and his own Santa Claus traditions with his daughter while Emma was left with two teenagers, a preteen and a six-year old.

Harrison, Wes and Beth were now very much aware of the fact that Santa Claus was not real. They had discovered the truth about Santa roughly seven years ago when Harrison and Wes had made a bet on the existence of Santa. In the middle of the night the three of them had come down in hopes of getting a glimpse of Santa but had only managed to catch her and Killian in the middle of pulling presents out from the storage cabinet under the stairs. Needless to say, it had been it had been a bad year. Harrison still wasn’t over the fact that he had been “repeatedly and systematically lied to for years and would need therapy for the rest of his life.” Those were his words, not hers.

Her kids had a flare for the dramatic. She blamed Killian for this.

Since that incident, they had been less willing than Henry to keep up the guise of Santa for their six-year old brother. In fact, Harrison had sat her down last week with a pro and a con of lying about Santa’s existence. It had been as entertaining as had been worrisome, but she had remained firm in her decision and her son had begrudgingly decided to respect it.

Despite their reservations, they had been relatively good about driving to Portland and taking their annual Christmas photo with Santa. Emma had always been ambivalent on the fact they had given their kids cell phones before high school, as they had a tendency to sit on the couch and stare at them like mindless zombies but right now it was a blessing. All of her kids had their eyeballs glued to their electronic devices as they waited in possibly one of the longest lines that Emma had ever seen for a picture with Santa.

All of them except Wes who was now looking up from his phone with the most cankerous of expressions. He looked like the definition of malcontent and Emma could feel her good luck sliding down the drain.

“We’ve been in this line for over an hour.”

“I’m well aware of that, kiddo.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Wes asked, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms in front of his chest like the moody teenager that he was on the verge of becoming. Emma had a feeling his transformation from chubby cheeked scamp to teenage dirtbag was going to be worse than both of his older brothers combined.

“Because it’s what we do every year,” Emma replied through gritted teeth, starting to lose her patience with the amount of attitude she was receiving at the moment.

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because it’s nice,” she snapped. “And because your little brother is excited.”

Indeed, Neddy had been excited. Meeting Santa was all he had wanted to do for the past three days and he had talked about it nonstop, writing and rewriting lists that he wanted to give to Santa, dealing all of the presents he wanted. It was a cute list but there was no way in hell that kid was getting a rocket launcher. That was just asking for trouble.

The sad part was that a rocket launcher wasn’t the oddest thing her children had ever asked for; highlights included a mind-control helmet, a cursed bracelet, Thor’s Hammer, Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth and a deed of ownership for the Jolly Roger. Thank you, Westley Graham and Elizabeth Alice.

“Cool for Neddy, but I don’t see why I have to do it,” Wes replied, not impressed.

Emma immediately looked down at the boy in question to make sure he wasn’t listening and sure enough, her six-year old was more invested in playing Super Mario than he was in the ever-heating conversation taking place between his mother and brother. The same couldn’t be said for Harrison, who was now watching them with avid interest.

“Because it’s a family thing and you’re a part of this family whether you like it or not.”

“Henry is a part of this family and he’s not here. Neither is Lucy.”

“Where is Henry?” Neddy piped up, tearing his eyes away from his Nintendo Switch and looking around frantically for his eldest sibling.

“He isn’t here,” she said with a gentle sigh. “Henry is an adult and he can do what he wants, but keep in mind that he was always willing to do this for you guys when you were little.”

“Well, I bet he didn’t have to wait in this big-ass line. We’ve been here for, like, hours and it’s all for no—” “Finish that sentence, you’ll be grounded until you’re thirty-five,” Emma cut him off with hiss.

“Fine!” he snapped, rolling his eyes. “But this sucks and I’m bored.”

“Just play with your phone. Your brothers and sister are doing that and they’re not complaining.”

“My phone is dead,” he replied, scowling. “Can I play with yours?”

“I’m on twenty-percent battery, kid. Sorry. It’s not happening.”

“Well then, can I go to GameStop?”

“Westley, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”“That’s what adults say when they don’t have a real reason for it.”

“You really want to know? Because I know you and I know exactly what’s going to happen if I let you go to GameStop! You’re going to cause some sort of trouble like burning the place down or causing some sort of gamer revolt! I’m sorry, kiddo, but after you made the toilets explode, you’re not leaving my sight, which means you’re not leaving this line!”

“That’s racist, Mom.”

“Okay, one, that’s not remotely racist,” Harrison stated, holding up a finger and rolling his eyes at his youngest brother. “And second, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Wes snapped. “Don’t tell me that you don’t find all of this stupid.”

“It is,” he conceded, giving his mother an apologetic look before continuing. “But we’re doing this for Neddy, so shut up and stop talking.”

“You stop talking!”

“You don’t make any sense.”

“Oh my god, both of you are dumb,” Beth snapped, looking up from her phone. “I’ve got some major drama going on and I need you to be quiet.”

“You’re twelve. Twelve years-old don’t have drama,” Harrison replied with a roll of his eyes.

“You would be surprised,” Beth replied, sounding closer to sixteen than twelve. She was going to be an even bigger handful than Wes, Emma was calling it now.

“Look, no one cares about sixth grade babies. Give me your phone,” Wes snapped, holding out his hand and gesturing for her to hand over it.

Beth glanced down at his and back at his face, snorting. “No way.”

“Give me your phone.”

“If you try to take my phone from me, not only will I hit you so hard you’ll throw up but I will also shove my phone up your butt so high that I’m going to be able to pull it out of your throat,” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

Harrison looked between the two of them with a hint of amusement. “I would listen to her, Wes. She has a mean headlock and you’re kind of a wuss.”

“I’m not a wuss,” Wes shouted back defensively while simultaneously taking a step back from his older brother and sister.

“You are so a wuss,” Harrison replied with a snort of amusement. “I beat you all the time.”


“That’s because you’re giant fattyzoid.”

“That’s not a real thing, shit for brains.”

Emma counted to ten under her breath in an attempt to keep from murdering her own children. A few of the mothers who were line were now openly glaring at her kids and she could feel the judgment of every single parent in line. She needed to get them back under control.

“All of you seriously need to knock it off!” she snapped at them, placing her hands on her hips and giving them her patented Angry Mom™ look. “If you don’t quit it, there will be no presents this year.”

Harrison, Wes and Beth all turned to her with their eyebrows raised, clearly not taking her threat seriously. They looked absurdly like Killian.

“Look, I know this is a long line and tempers are flaring up, but you guys got to pull it together. If not for me or for Christmas spirit, at least for your brother.”

“Sorry Mom, that’s not good enough,” Wes replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at her. “Let me go to GameStop or I’ll pull out the big guns and say the words.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“She means that she doesn’t negotiate with terrorists,” Beth replied drily. Harrison held up his hand to give her a high five, which she returned enthusiastically. Emma opened her mouth to tell them how ridiculous they were but her youngest piped up with a question.

“What’s a terrorist?” 

“It’s a really mean bad person, bud,” Harrison replied, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair.

“Oh,” Neddy blinks. “Yeah, he is definitely a terrorist.”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Wes scoffs. “I’m a simply freedom fighter against maternal oppression.”

“Maternal oppression,” Emma repeated, staring at him in disbelief. “That’s really what you’re going with.”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not happening.”

“Then I’ll say it!” Wes stated, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t you ever dare!” 

As soon as she said the words, she immediately regretted it. It was probably the worst thing she could ever say to Wes in a situation like this. Give him an order and he would find a way to undermine it in a second. The kid honestly had a real thing against authority and a cynical part of her mocked her for being surprised. What had she been expecting from the offspring of a pirate and a former juvenile delinquent?

Her son’s eyes burned with defiance as he squared his shoulders and looked around at all the families surrounding them. There was a determined set to his jaw that was entirely too similar to Killian’s for Emma to handle. He gave her an evil smirk before he opened his mouth and all hell broke lose.

“I just don’t understand why you’re wasting everyone’s time, Mom,” he shouted as loudly as he could. “It’s not like Santa actually exists.”

The reaction was instantaneous. The small children surrounding them burst into tears, clinging to their parents’ legs. Emma’s ears felt like they were splitting from all the noise. It felt like they were being barraged with a batting ram made of sound.

“Santa isn’t real?” A little girl shrieked.


“Nooooooo!” Another kid cried, falling on his knees and cradling his head.

“It cannot be true! Mommy how could you!”

Emma watched in horror as one child curled into the ball and beat his fists against the floor, his face turning red. His mother bent down to try and placate him, but to no avail; he just continued to scream. She looked up at Emma with a murderous look. If looks could kill, she would have been eviscerated.

Every parent was glaring at her and she couldn’t say she blamed them.

Her own child looked ready to cry himself. Neddy’s brilliant blue eyes were wide and his lip was trembling. She was going to murder Wes.

“Is it true?” he asked in a quivering voice.

“Neddy, kid, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to upset you,” she said in soothing tone.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to them!” he said stubbornly, gesturing at Harrison and Beth. “You could be lying to me and you always say lying is wrong.”

They exchanged a look, extremely uncomfortable with the chain of events while Wes looked positively gleeful with the absolute chaos he had wrought.

“Ummm…” Harrison looked to Emma for help, unsure of how to proceed but there was little she could say to help him. She hadn’t necessarily handled their discovery of the truth well at all. 

She could still hear Beth’s angry screaming.

Correction, she wasn’t hearing her daughter screaming. She was hearing some other girl having a meltdown because her kid is a kind of dick.

“He’s real, I mean records show that Saint Nicholas was a real person and that he was from, I think, Norway? Anyway, he helped some young women out with their dowry, I think?”

“The key term there is was, Neddy,” Wes said with a smirk. “He’s saying Santa did exist but doesn’t anymore. Therefore, I’m right.”

“Stop talking,” Emma hissed, pulling his ear. “You’re so grounded that you’re probably never going to see natural sunlight again.”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch! Mom! Stop! You’re hurting me!”

“I’m not listening to you anyway,” Neddy said, glaring at his older brother. “You’re a liar.”

“When have I lied ever to you?” Wes asked in outrage.

“When don’t you is the question I would be asking,” Beth replied with a snort.

“You told me I was adopted and Mom and Dad weren’t my real parents!” Neddy shouted, shaking a tiny fist at him.

“Oh…I forgot about that but trust me when I say Santa isn’t real. It’s just Mom and Dad trying to trick you.”

“Neddy Bug, listen to me,” Beth said, placing both hands on her younger brother’s shoulders. “Mom’s right. Wes is a jerk and is trying to make you sad. Santa is…as real as you want him to be. As long as you choose to believe…”

Neddy looked back and forth between Beth and Harrison. As mad as Emma is at Wes, she’s incredibly proud of her other two children for being so good with their younger brother. She had honestly expected Beth to play along with her brother’s scheme.

“He’s not real, isn’t he?” Neddy asked quietly.

“No, but it’s fun to pretend isn’t it?” Emma said softly, releasing Wes in order to crouch down in front of her youngest.

“Yeah, I guess…” he replied, sounding sure. “If Santa’s not real then, who are we going to see?”

“Some weirdo the mall is paying to let little kids crawl on his lap,” Wes replied, only to receive a jab in the gut from Harrison.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this then we don’t have to do this. We’ll just go to Mrs. Field’s and get some cookies and then go back home. It’s just…I didn’t have much going up, okay? I didn’t have a lot of presents or cookies or Christmas stuff. I never got to see Santa or take photos with him and I just wanted you guys to have everything I missed out on….”

Neddy frowned. “You really had no presents?”

“No presents,” Emma confirmed with a small sad smile.

“You really like Santa, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“We’ll meet him then.”

“Are you kidding me? Seriously, Neddy, you still want to do the weird Santa picture?”

“Yeah, because it makes Mom happy,” Neddy answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“You have absolutely got to be kidding!” Wes repeated, shaking his head.

“How does it feel to sacrifice your freedom and get grounded in a ploy to not get the Santa photo and still have to take it?” Beth smirked.

“Shut up.”

It was the last photo with Santa Claus her family ever took but it became one of Emma’s most treasured memories because despite the fact that he no longer believed in Santa Claus and Wes had literally ruined Christmas for him, Neddy did something just for her and that was something she cherished even more than the misshaped clay bowl he had made for her as a gift.

She put the photo next to the bowl on the mantle in the living room and smiled at it every time she saw it thereafter.