Another WiR fanfic. Hahaaahahahahaah I'm on a roll for just making my new account today.

Disclaimer: I'm not near awesome enough to own the marvel that is Wreck-It Ralph. All credit goes to Disney.

Christmas Day was getting awfully close. Only a mere three weeks or so and the day would be here. And Vanellope wasn't prepared. This in itself wasn't unusual- but for such a festivity, the hyperactive racer would already have a party in motion with a decorated castle- and she hadn't even begun to decorate the enormous building! She'd been much too busy hanging out with Ralph and taking frequent naps (racing everyday truly was exhausting- but every minute was worth the tiredness). She'd planned to spend all of Sunday just decorating (she wanted to go all-out-impress her citizens, maybe even the few whose opinions really mattered to her too), and she'd even managed to drag out boxes and boxes of decorations with the help of Sour Bill.

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead with a sleeve, pushing her bangs back, eyeing the hard little green candy. "It would be a hack of a lot easier if we had a certain-" She paused. Suggestive nudge, cough cough. "Wrecker here to help us with all of this junk."

Bill merely blinked languidly up at her. Impassively he responded, "I'm assuming you're suggesting for me to go and retrieve him, Your Highness."

Vanellope flapped a hand at him dismissively. "Enough with that. Yeah. It's an order."

The hard candy sighed with no real feeling other than disgruntlement behind the bored tone. "Yes, madam." He shambled out of the Great Hall and vanished down a corridor.

Watching him depart, the black, candy-splattered haired girl stood, flipping the box lids open, frowning at the mess and jumble of the content inside. Lights were bunched up and tangled into what looked like an unseperable mass of knots. There was a plastic figure of some fat guy in a red cloth suit carrying a sack over his shoulder. One eyebrow quirked at that. She'd have to ask Ralph about the fat man when he came by.

Utterly exhausted even just by looking at the sheer amount of decorations she'd have to place, Vanellope flopped down onto her butt and dragged a box to her, pawing through it, separating what she would and would not need, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. If there was one thing she was ever serious about, it was party planning. She loved throwing the wildest parties- and this Christmas one would be the wildest yet. She'd have to make sure of that...especially after bragging about it to Taffyta and her crew (still composed of mainly Gloyd, Rancis, Jubileena, and Candlehead).

"Ugh." She tossed a cheap, plastic reindeer ornament aside. It fell to the floor and skidded across it with a noisy clatter. "Stupid thing." She plunged her hand into the pile of junk. Here went nothing but hours of pointless and back-wrenching labor.

Somewhere, a door slammed open and resonated through the mainly empty castle.

"Princess Toiletface?"

Vanellope perked up instantly. Ralph!

"Ralph..." The low murmur, the slight hiss of indignation. Felix.

More help! Wonderful! She glitched away rapidly down the hall, approaching the entry doors. Keeping out of sight, she focused- and glitched herself onto Ralph's shoulder, flinging her arms around his head. "Welcome to my humble abode, friends!"

"Humble indeed." Calhoun, clad in military pants and a light white camisole covered by a heavy-duty black jacket, eyed the place wearily. "Too frilly for my tastes."

"You get used to it after a while." chimed Ralph before he tilted his head back in an attempt to spot Vanellope, grinning. "Kid!"

She smacked him. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me Princess? Countless!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking, Princ-er, President." He smirked slyly. She scowled and growled, yanking at his hair. He merely ignored her complaints.

Sour Bill slid between them. "I retrieved them, Your Hig-"

"Don't even say it." Vanellope dangled her legs from Ralph's shoulder. "Just...go do whatever sour candies do." And off he ambled, mumbling something about demanding princesses.

"Alright, runt." Calhoun folded her arms over her endowed chest. "What're we here for?"

She stood on Ralph's shoulder and saluted the sergeant. "Your mission is to secure the base."

"Secure the base?" repeated Felix, looking rather frazzled.

"Decorate." Vanellope bounced onto Ralph's head, curling her fingers into his feathery mane of chestnut hair. He grunted but allowed her to do so. "Cause there's too much stuff for me to do, and I've gotta throw the best Christmas party ever, so I figured I could use your help."

"Without asking?"

She flashed the puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

Ralph shook his head. "Fine. But one day, kid, I promise you, that pouty face won't work anymore."

"Ha!" Vanellope laughed, leaning against his broad neck. "Like that'll happen. Anyhow- let's get this decorating started! We've got a party to throw." She clapped her hands together and pointed forward, back into the Great Hall, where the decorations lay scattered. "Onwards, JARVIS!"

Calhoun stepped on the discarded reindeer. Its head snapped off and immediately, with a flash, a gun was pointed at it. Felix gently rest a hand on his wife's upper thigh (the only place he could really properly reach). "It's just a decoration, dear." He murmured.

"Wow. This whole place," Both impressed and a bit intimidated by the looming size of just the Great Hall itself, Ralph rotated his head to glance about, "Is gonna have to be decorated?"

"Yup!" chirruped Vanellope, once again clapping her hands happily together. "I mean, c'mon, this is gonna be fun!"

The three exchanged looks. "That's a matter of opinion, runt," muttered Calhoun.

Ignoring the older woman, Vanellope began to sway on Ralph's shoulders and murmur, "Wreck the halls with boughs of holly..."