THE FOLLOWING OUTTAKES AND FUTURETAKES ARE DEFINITELY SPOILERS FOR THE STORY. FAIR WARNING.
christmastime
Ella has always been disillusioned by Christmas. As a product of her environment, she's known since she was very small that Christmas wasn't about the birth of Christ or giving to others or whatever load of shit Hallmark says Christmas is about. Christmas is about family, about being with loved ones, and for a kid in the foster system with no love to claim as her own, Ella's Christmas spirit died a swift death long before believing in Santa Claus became an issue.
The urge to decorate and watch Christmas movies and spread holiday cheer has generally been divorced from her reality, even after settling in with Carlisle and Charmstone and the idea of loving and being loved in return. It doesn't help that of course the first Christmas she and Anthony share as a couple is encased in disaster, or that the second one actually features fucking Krampus.
A time for joy and peace December is not - at least not in Charmstone and not for Ella.
But then, as is typical, things changed and after nine hours of labor, Ella is taken by the unshakeable desire to give her daughter better than she had. Ella may be a Scrooge and Anthony may be just relieved to sleep in on a holiday without mitigating a crisis - but Shae will not have her childhood tainted in any way. Not if her parents have anything to say about it.
So, as Shae's first Christmas comes around, they start a tradition for their family. Two weeks before the holiday now sees Ella renewing the wards around Charmstone while Anthony and the pack survey the territory for anything even remotely weird. Between all of their connections to the community, the last few weeks of December are as quiet as they ever could be, and for a little while it's okay to forget about the supernatural. Ella learns how to wrap presents without using magic for the sake of authenticity. Anthony takes over decorating their new house - nestled on the north side of the forest with plenty of privacy and room for expansion - with unprecedented enthusiasm. They both agree that cooking should absolutely still be done with assistance from magic. A Christmas Eve lunch with the Scoobies is instigated and Christmas Day is spent together, just their little family of three.
It's a happy time, the sort of thing Ella would have never anticipated in her life when she was growing up. Almost normal.
Almost being the operative word.
"Seriously?" she mutters as she stands in front of the linen closet. Now that Shae is getting older and wiser, it's come to Ella's attention that hiding presents from her kid has to be, like, a thing. She selected the linen closet banking on the strong scent being enough to mask the tint of her magic, but Shae is too clever by half and too in-tuned with Ella's magical signature for the hiding place to have lasted long.
Anthony's bare feet rap against the hardwood floors as he ventures closer. "What is it?"
Ella gestures half-heartedly to the mess at her feet, a topple of partially unwrapped presents and glitter and bows. "Look at this," she gripes.
"Ah."
She narrows her eyes at her husband accusingly. "She gets this from your side of the family."
"Obviously," he deadpans.
"Don't be cute, Tony," Ella rebukes. "I'm disturbed, okay. Our daughter - like, she's worse than the Tasmanian Devil. Doesn't that concern you?"
Ella is concerned because when things like this happen, she can't help but wonder if she's not messing up, somehow. She doesn't have any idea how to raise a healthy, well-adjusted child and she doesn't think that Anthony has the same foundation of pervasive fear that has begun to simmer in her gut. Ella never had a mother. She doesn't know how to be one, let alone a good one to a burgeoning shaman.
"She's three," he says consolingly, running the flat of his hand down the curve of her spine, warm and heavy and usually more comforting than it is at the moment.
"Yes, which is why this is so worrying. It'll only get worse with age - look at Bree!"
Anthony sighs slightly at the mounting hysteria building in her tone. "She's curious and energetic and lacks impulse control. Sound familiar?"
Ella isn't the least bit mollified, spinning around with her hands on her hips. "Are you trying to make me mad right now? Look at me! Does it seem like the wisest decision to rile me up right now?"
Anthony's lips tilt into a smirk as his eyes run over the curves of her body, particularly the swell of her midsection. He really doesn't need any reminder to appreciate the changes in her frame; she catches him staring with thinly-veiled awe enough that she's pretty sure he has a kink for pregnant women, or is well on his way to developing one. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, ducking down to press a lingering kiss to the side of her mouth, his hands coming around to frame her stomach.
"My ankles are fat," she mutters, suddenly feeling flustered. She hates the mood swings that come with pregnancy, but according to Alice, her mood swings on any given day are usually worse when she isn't knocked up. Ella would call bullshit, but she has a sneaking suspicion that her sister is right.
At least pregnancy mood swings are more predictable. She's either fuming or crying about something ridiculous.
"You're glowing with life," Anthony counters, leaning his forehead against hers. "I've never seen anything sexier."
"You're so weird," she tells him.
He kisses her again and doesn't bother to disagree.
_/\_/\_/\_
The scent of cinnamon and ginger and vanilla seeps through the house, a warm accompaniment to the noisy merriment coming from the living room. From the sounds of it, Riley and Bree are in the middle of their annual argument over a classic Christmas movie; this year it seems A Christmas Story is cause for contention and after hearing Bree defend the leg-lamp, Ella had tuned most of it out. Even thought all of the people in the house are her people, her family, Ella hasn't ever known what to do with a gathering so large. It's a comfort that she can retreat to a quieter part of the house under the guise of tending to the food, knowing that "Grampy" Carlisle is keeping Shae entertained and that Anthony is making sure nothing gets out of hand between the various creatures in their inner circle.
Sometime after the noise devolves into a debate on the merits of Ralphy's wish list, Peter wanders into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway as Ella magically marches gingerbread men off of a cookie sheet. "You're such a show-off," he says.
She raises her brows at his tone. "I thought you liked enchanted gingerbread men? You nag me into making them every year."
"I do." Peter shrugs, the string of LED lights on the tree stitched into his hideous sweater bobbing with the motion. "You know, like, usually."
"Oh, for the love of…" Ella pins her best friend with a disbelieving look. "Are you seriously still pouting because my toddler's cookie army beat your cookie army earlier? Really?"
"She cheated!" he cries.
"She's three," Ella counters, belatedly realizing that she's using the same tactic Anthony tried on her.
It doesn't work on Peter, either. "She has magic and itty bitty claws and she's ruthless," Peter argues.
Ella snorts. "Are you even listening to yourself right now?"
"Hey, my point is a valid one." Peter shakes his finger at her, then frowns when one of the gingerbread men tries to grab him. He flicks the enchanted cookie away. "Plus, she won using the gingerbread with raisins for eyes and, I'm sorry, but there's just something really twisted about a kid actually liking raisins."
Ella rolls her eyes. "More twisted than a 26 year old sulking because he lost to someone who only just learned to spell her own name?"
Peter mocks offense. "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch," he says.
Ella's response is on the tip of her tongue, but then Anthony is looming behind Peter with a protective rasp in his throat. "What's this I'm hearing?"
"Nothing!" Peter says quickly, stumbling around Anthony with his hands held up. "Nothing at all, Alpha, My Alpha. I'll just go into the other room and, uh, supervise everyone being so woke…"
Anthony's eyes trail after Peter's speedy retreat, and then he ambles around the kitchen island with his head cocked to the side. "He didn't used to be that odd, did he?"
"It's Peter," she says by way of explanation. Ella pushes a tray of cookies toward him. "Here, take these."
"In a minute," he rumbles as he presses up behind her, arms caging around her on either side of her body.
"Tony…"
Ella's half-hearted protest falls short as Anthony's nose skims the curve of her neck, lips and warm breath teasing her skin. She swallows back a moan when he nips at particularly sensitive spot. "Mmm…You smell like vanilla."
"It's the icing," she says nonsensically.
"Delicious."
"Store bought," she breathes, eyes fluttering shut as she angles her neck to give him more room. She can feel him against her back, hot and heavy, and the lust that cuts through her is sharp enough to ache.
"That's not why it tastes so good. Save some for later," he whispers against her skin.
At that, Ella turns just enough to grace him with an incredulous stare. "I'm already pregnant," she tells him unnecessarily. "I can't get anymore knocked up."
His scarred brow raises in challenge. "Doesn't hurt to try, does it?"
The icing, it turns out, is a good idea.
_/\_/\_/\_
Morning comes too soon and prominently features Shae's little feet trampling over their bed, repeatedly landing hits to Anthony's internal organs with an accuracy that he cannot be convinced is accidental.
"Mommy! Daddy!"
Beside him, Ella groans, pulling a pillow over her face.
"Wake up! Up, up, up!" Shae chants, bouncing onto her knees between them, wiggling as she takes Ella's pillow and magically vanishes it…somewhere. Shae's tawny, freckled face is flushed in excitement, and not for the first time Anthony reflects that although she is physically a perfect blend of himself and his mate, her energy is all Bree.
"Oh, my God, why," Ella whines sleepily.
"Santa came!" Shae declares loudly.
With one eye slit open, Anthony watches as his little Shae stands up again to jump on the bed, as if trying to annoy them into waking up. It's a valiant effort and one that might have worked if he hadn't noticed the claws to suddenly slip from her tiny hands and toes - and then faster than he even processes the observation, Anthony is sitting up with an armful of squirming toddler. Spurred by the instinct to protect his wife's easily-breakable skin and the knowledge that Shae's control is shitty on a regular day, Anthony has closed his palms over his daughter's hands and feet.
"Shae," he says seriously.
"Daddy?"
"What are the rules about claws?" he prompts.
Shae's eyes, a stunning grey-green set behind a fringe of chestnut lashes, turn solemn as she stares up at him and the tiny pricks of her claws recede from his flesh. "Only for saving or defendin'," she recites, then drops her chin to quietly add the last part. "An' careful with Mommy, 'cause Mommy doesn't have any."
Anthony kisses her forehead. "That's good," he praises. "I know you're excited, but you can't ever forget. Okay?"
"'Kay, Daddy."
Anthony tickles her sides, watching the way her face lights up so brightly as she giggles. "Why don't you go downstairs and see what Santa brought. We'll be right down."
Shae scuttles off, thumping down the stairs and exclaiming over the presents that had miraculously turned up under the tree. When Anthony looks to his wife, she is smiling at him so tenderly that his heart hurts, just a little bit.
"You're a good father," Ella tells him, resting her hand on the hump of her stomach.
"You're a good mother," he says and he means it, knowing full well that she is filled with doubt every day. He doesn't know if Ella will ever trust in herself to believe that she is nurturing and kind and genuinely everything he has ever loved, but he holds out hope that one day she'll get there.
He leans over and kisses her gently, which she returns sweetly.
"Merry Christmas," he says against her lips. And like he always has, he keeps her soft, happy, hormonal crying to himself - tucked safe and secure in his heart.
"Merry Christmas."
A/N: So, I had a particularly persuasive request for a fluffy Christmas one-shot within the supernormal universe and I couldn't resist!
That's right - shamans are the product of one shifter parent (werewolf or otherwise a shapeshifter of at least two different forms, like a kelpie) and a magician. Makes you wonder about who Black's parents are, right? Me too!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot
HAPPY HOLIDAYS 2017!