Title: So This Is Christmas

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: Chicago PD

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: The Voights attempt to have a happy holiday season while continuing to deal with Ethan's health challenges, the changing family dynamic with new additions to the family, and Erin's growing relationship with Jay Halstead. This is a short set of chapters set after the Interesting Dynamics story of this AU.

SPOILER ALERT: There are some minor spoilers in this story related to the outcome and upcoming chapters of Interesting Dynamics. Likely nothing entirely unexpected, but you've been warned.

Jay came down the stairs at a rapid trot, slowing briefly when he saw Voight glance at him. The man was sitting on his couch, bags of items at his feet on the floor, and other little sorted piles across his coffee table. A whisky on the rocks was sitting precariously on the corner of the table. There was some sort of jazzy Christmas album playing so quietly that Jay could hardly hear it. But he didn't get the sense that Voight was really listening to it. Maybe he just had it on to try to force himself into the holiday at that point. He likely needed to force himself. The guy looked ragged.

Jay came the rest of the way down the steps, Voight watching him carefully.

"She sleeping?" he asked.

She was. It'd taken a long damn time for Erin to let herself sleep. She was all worked up. Tangled in knots about Ethan. She'd been looking nearly as ragged at Voight the past couple weeks. Jay suspected she'd been up all night more nights than not while Ethan was in the hospital even if she hadn't stayed overnight at the hospital every night. She was barely functional at that point. Tired. Overly-emotional because she just couldn't think straight. Then she'd get mad at herself when she let her emotions show.

She had a whole lot of reason to let her emotions show, though. Jay got that. It wasn't like he was at the hospital daily. And, he really only got to see as much of Ethan's medical stuff as Erin and Voight let him. But he'd seen enough over the summer and fall – and he'd been allowed to get to know the kid enough – that he got that it really sucked to see him struggling and hurting. He was just a little kid. He was dealing with some heavy shit that just wasn't fair.

Voight had told him that life wasn't fair. Somehow seeing just how unfair it was in the guy's family and knowing that he still preached that mantra lent itself to an entirely different perspective.

Jay allowed him a small nod, though. "Yea. Don't know how. The wind is really fucking rattling that window. Starting to feel like I was hunkered down back in Afghanistan."

He saw Voight glaring at him. He'd clearly hit some sort of sore point. He wasn't sure if it was about the window or the suggestion that he might suffer from post-traumatic stress. It was meant as a joke but Halstead really didn't want to get into details about some of the shit he'd seen and done in the Rangers. But he did know that trying to sleep in Voight's house was bad enough. Trying to do it in a room with a rattling window that pretty much sounded like he was under gunfire just wasn't happening. Especially when he was trying to be the level-headed support system for Lindsay in all this. So when Erin finally drifted – he'd stayed there long enough to make sure she was actually asleep before carefully extracting himself out from under her embrace and got the fuck out of there. Though, since Voight was still up, it might've pretty much jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. But he supposed he kind of wanted to talk to the guy anyway.

But the window comment didn't seem like an ideal segway into a heart-to-heart, so rather than push it farther, Jay went over to the tree and deposited the movie with the other presents.

"Erin?" Voight asked.

Jay glanced at him. "No," he allowed. "Ethan."

Voight stared at him a moment longer but then pointed at another section under the tree. Jay squinted at him with some mild questioning annoyance and then looked back under the tree to realize that in a rather Voight-esque manner, the few presents that were under the tree were all piled in their own little section. Ethan's presents all in one place – and he'd just put the gift in the wrong spot. He reached and moved it, setting it with the rest – as Voight continued to supervise his every move.

As Jay rose, he held out the bottle of whisky at his sergeant. Voight eyed it for a moment too without automatically accepting it.

"For when you need a refill," Jay offered, nodding slightly at the near empty glass.

Voight gave him a face but then took it, examining the label on the bottle.

"You can't afford this on your salary," Voight finally put flatly.

"It's actually a re-gift," Jay said. Voight snorted and gave him a look. "I don't drink much whisky. It's been sitting around my place for a while."

Voight examined him again and then audibly put the bottle on the side of the table closest to Jay. "Let it sit around," he provided. "This is the kind of bottle you save for a special occasion."

Jay shrugged. "Maybe you'll have a special occasion worth opening it for sooner rather than later."

Voight just looked at him.

"Ethan got home. It's Christmas," Jay tried.

The stare remained set on him.

Jay thought that was about as much as he was going to get. He actually figured that Voight was probably working up to telling him that since Erin was sleeping, any useful purpose he had in the house was done, and it was time for him to go. So rather than give him a chance – or to at least make it a bit more difficult – Jay backed up and sat down in one of the armchairs across from the couch.

Voight smacked his lips a couple times, still examining him, but then proceeded to ignore him, going back to working on sorting the contents in the bags at his feet and placing them in the piles on the coffee table. It wasn't like the piles were heaping but Jay still wasn't sure how Voight was going to get them to fit into the stockings he assumed they were destined for.

"Stockings?" Jay asked flatly.

"Yea," Voight mumbled.

"Need any help?" Jay offered. Voight gave him a near accusing sideways look that was clearly a 'no'. "Just looks like maybe you could use some rack time too."

"I'm fine," Voight almost barked and went back to his work.

"Need to wrap all that?" Jay tried again.

"No," Voight said flatly.

Jay gave a little nod, as he watched, and somehow managed to allow himself to mumble. "My mom used to wrap everything in our stockings. Even the Chapsticks," he said with a head shake, while he examined the floor below where he was wringing his hands. "Took us forever to open the things," he finished and looked up to see that Voight was eyeing him again.

Jay kept his eyes for a moment but then scrubbed at his face before meeting his gaze again. He knew he'd really placed himself under a microscope now. Not one he particularly wanted to be under.

"Look," Jay finally brought himself to manage. "I'm not huge on giving apologies. But I know I hit some nerves with the whole … invite declination thing … earlier tonight. It's just … me and Christmas. We don't do so well together."

He let out another little sigh – more annoyed at himself than anything else. "You know how sometimes when people are sick, they rally and sort of hold out over the holidays?"

He saw the look on Voight's face like he might be trying to draw some sort of comparison to Ethan and he was about ready to lunge himself across the table at him. So Jay held up a sort of calming half-hand. That wasn't what he was trying to imply at all. Ethan wasn't on his death-bed or anything. He was just a sick kid. Always was going to be.

"That's what my mom did," Jay quickly clarified with some minor tone. "Rallied. Held out. And I hadn't been able to get leave but thought, 'Hey, she's doing OK. She'll still be around when I finish my tour.' But she wasn't. She died on the 26th. And I wasn't there. So just being at the holidays and being invited to other people's holiday … things … when I didn't even get my shit sorted to be there for my mom's last 'thing'."

He shook his head and gazed at the floor again. Voight was still staring at him. He hated thinking about this stuff. His family stuff. His mom stuff. All that past stuff. Truth was, though, that he ended up thinking about it a lot - even though he claimed to be able to shut out that sort of emotional, personal personal bullshit. That was way easier said then done. But it was definitely why he liked work and he'd been known to spend exceeding amounts of time there - followed by long evenings sitting in the bar. Then he was distracted. He wasn't alone.

It was when he was alone that he got all think-y. But somehow at Christmas, he mostly just wanted to be alone. It was way easier than being around people. Other families that were at least putting on a mask to pretend they weren't as fucked up as his. Instead, though, he'd just end up thinking about his mom. How he hadn't been there for her and how she'd been there for him - supportive to the end even when everyone else in his family wasn't. Inevitably, though, he'd also think about the mask his mother had worn while he was growing up to try to make it look like they had a normal family and a happy marriage.

It was all a lie and one he'd begun to sense when he was still just a kid and grown to resent the older he got. It was all make-believe and keeping up appearances. He'd stopped caring about the appearances anymore. He just didn't give a shit. And, he sure as hell wasn't going to keep them up for the sake of his father. Let his dad explain to his colleagues why he had a plastic wife half his age and an estranged family. A son he hadn't seen or spoken to in years. Until that night. But that was just out of forced necessity. Jay had no intention of going back. He'd gotten what he needed out of it. He'd done his 'thing'.

"I appreciated the invitation," he told Voight. "From you. Ethan. ... Erin. I just …" he let out an exhale and shrugged before looking up. "I'm here now."

Voight gave him a little nod. "OK," he allowed and looked back to his work.

"I just—" Jay started again but Voight's eyes snapped firmly back to him and held up a hand for him to stop.

"I get it. We don't have that and holidays around here are melancholy enough. You don't need to say anymore," he told him evenly.

Halstead gave an almost indiscernible nod.

He sat watching Voight work again for a moment. He was starting to wish made he hadn't handed him that whisky because he thought he could likely use a drink at that point and none of any kind had been offered up. He was also starting to see how Voight expected to get all the contents on the table into stockings. He was working on one and the stocking was clearly hand-knit and with a yarn with a fair amount of give, causing the over-sized sock to stretch and yield more space with each item Voight put in, in a seemingly planned and precise sequence.

As Jay stared at the intricate patterns on the stock, he realized that it had Ethan's name stitched into the cuff and glanced where the others were sitting to make out Justin's name too. He found himself wondering if they were the handicraft of Voight's wife or a grandmother or some sort of special order.

"Camille made them," Voight offered up, almost like he'd read his mind.

"They're nice," Jay allowed.

Voight snorted and looked at him. "She swore like a cop the entire time she was making the fucking things. Not very crafty." He reached and tossed two less worn looking socks on the table. Jay gazed at them too. "Had Trudy do those up for my grandson. Justin's wife."

Jay leaned forward and picked the one that said 'Henry' and looked at it. It wasn't as stretched out as the other ones yet, but he imagined that if the kid's grandpa was stuffing it each year it'd eventually be as elongated and frayed looking as the other ones he was working with.

"Platt knits?" he asked with some mild shock.

Voight nodded. "Don't fucking mention that I told you that. There's other shit I need to get her to do up for my grandson before anyone starts busting her balls about it and she takes her girlie shit undercover again."

Jay let out a quietly spewed sound of amusement and shook his head. Platt was one fucking weird woman. He didn't entirely get her. She actually sort of scared him on some level. She was hard to get a read on. Though, she seemed to fucking love Erin. So he knew the woman likely fucking hated him. Possibly more than Voight on any given day.

"Erin got one?" Jay asked.

Voight gave a little nod and flipped through the pile sitting next to him. Erin's was covered in big snowflakes with a green heel and candy-cane striped toe. Her name was fully embroidered in the ever-green cuff.

"Your wife made it too?" he asked.

Voight nodded again. "Yea," he allowed quietly. "Actually did hers before Ethan's. She was around first."

Jay smiled a bit at that and then set it back on the table with the others. Voight grabbed them and tossed them back in a pile next to him, out of the way from blocking his access to the treasures, knick-knacks, toys, toiletries and candy.

"Erin's said that stockings are the big Christmas thing with you guys," Jay allowed.

It wasn't like they'd talked a ton about Christmas. Jay had done a good job at avoiding the topic. Because, as noted, not his favorite time of year. And, he'd known if the chit-chat on the subject started too much he'd be dealing with invitations and what not. It was something he was used to trying to avoid. He hadn't had to do too much to avoid it because for a lot of the month, Erin had been so distracted with Ethan being sick and back in the hospital that when the topic of conversation wasn't work-related, it was usually that. But of the bit she did say about the holidays, it had been stockings.

It'd been on a break when they were in some pharmacy so she could stock up on ibuprofen, which it wasn't clear if it was for a hangover, a headache or PMS cramps. He'd made an off-color joke about her period that had gone over poorly and she'd indicated that even getting a whiff of him triggered migraines in her. So seeing as she was stuck sitting in a car with him all day that day, she needed the biggest bottle she could find. Only then she'd suddenly got overly excited and fixated on these chocolate initial letters on their way out of the store.

"So the answer is you really are PMSing," he'd teased.

She shot him a dirty look and started texting Voight.

"Need to get dad's permission to have chocolate before dinner?" he'd antagonized her even more.

She'd rather snarkily informed him that getting chocolate initials in their stockings was some sort of tradition in their family. That neither her or Voight had been able to find them the year before. So since she was seeing them, she was going to get them while the getting was good. She was just letting Voight know so they didn't up with duplicates. So then Jay had ended up helping her dig through all these completely unordered trays of chocolate searching out two Es, two Hs, and O and a J. She'd snagged a second J and put it in the pile when she likely thought he wasn't looking but he'd seen her pay for it at the cash and he had some suspicions about who it was for. He'd kept his mouth shut, though.

After that there'd been a couple more stocking mentions on breaks, which she seemed to be using as an opportunity to stock up on some small denomination gift cards, packs of gum, Slim Jims and jerky any time they stepped into a corner store to grab some coffee.

Voight, though, just gave him another downcast glance and shrugged. "Still young when we had Justin," he provided flatly. "Stockings were what we could afford at first."

Jay eyed him for a moment, but then gestured at the coffee table. "Which pile is Erin's?" he asked a bit more quietly. He could already feel his heart pounding in his ears.

Voight pointed absently at the pile on the far end. Jay suspected that was hers anyways. There was only one other pile that looked remotely girlie and it was so girlie – and really so impersonal – that he figured that it was likely Olive's.

He took another deep breath and shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little box. Leaning forward, with a stretched arm, he set it on the table with Erin's things.

"Can you put that in hers for me?" he asked flatly.

Voight glanced and his eyes set on the box for a long beat before he cast his eyes up at Jay. His stare wasn't a glare but there was an underlying harshness to it. The man stopped what he was doing, sitting up and back into his couch, his fingers knitting together well he refused to break eye contact. So Jay didn't either – keeping his eyes fixed on him.

"That's the other reason I was off earlier," he said.

Voight just kept staring at him. Completely wordlessly. Halstead couldn't decide if it was a good sign or a really bad one. He almost would've preferred Voight start saying something. Anything. Because since he wasn't, he was feeling like he had to keep talking.

"It's my mother's ring," Jay provided and got a small smack of the lips from Voight at that. But that sound he made usually made him feel like he was sitting in front of a lion that was getting ready to fucking tear into its kill. "My brother. He's the oldest. He was supposed to get it. But I was closer with my mom. And Will's … not really the marrying type. He agreed to get it from my dad. If I went and saw him. He thought it would be better if he had a chance to meet Erin."

The lips smacked again and Voight pointed at the table. "So she knows about this?"

"Not exactly," Jay allowed.

"Not exactly?" Voight pressed back at him. "Have you talked about this?"

It was Jay's turn to examine him carefully. "We've talked."

"You've talked," Voight said again and gestured at the box even more firmly. "About this?"

Jay's eyes turned slightly more to daggers. "We've talked about her issues with commitment. How Bunny fucked that up for her. We've talked about family. Kids. The future. Hopes. Dreams. Retirement."

Voight puckered at him and gave a little nod. "And when you've talked about those things," he said with an almost dismissive gesture. "Those hopes and dreams. Plans. Has she specifically included you in them? Family. Kids. The future."

The daggers turned into a glare. But Voight leaned forward onto his knees, adjusting his line of vision with him.

"Look, Kid," he said a bit more gently and almost far too evenly. "You and Erin. You aren't in your 20s anymore."

"I know that," Jay hissed out. He was trying to keep calm, even. But it was hard.

"Then you know, this bullshit - like Ruzek and Burges. Hopping in and out of engagements. Not knowing what you want. You're too old for that shit. Erin's almost 30. She wants to do short-term relationships. Jump between beds. Play the field. That's her business. No judgment. But something like this," he said and pointed a finger in several jabbing gestures at the ring. "You don't do something like this to her. Not at her age. Hand her a ring. Keep her on a leash for a year or two. Play house. Then walk away. You don't make her waste her fucking time to be left in her mid-30s now without a ring on her finger and with the clock ticking."

Jay glared even harder. "Erin doesn't need a ring, a man or a baby to prove her worth. Now or in her mid-30s. Or ever."

Voight sat back in his seat again and watched Halstead. "No," he agreed firmly. "She doesn't. But I know my daughter and I've seen what she's gone through. And what she deserves is a man, a ring, and a family – that are going to stick around, who aren't going to jerk her around. And if she's saying it or not, those are things she wants."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jay pushed back firmly.

"Mmm," Voight grunted and stared at him for a long time. Their eyes locked and unwavering. "If this is you asking my permission—"

"I'm not asking your permission," Jay interrupted firmly. "Erin has already rather firmly told me that anyone who needs to ask her dad's permission shouldn't even bother approaching her in the first place."

Voight allowed a miscible amused sound at that and rubbed at his face a bit. It at least momentarily relieved some of the tension and Jay let himself sit up a bit straighter in his chair from the hunkered down position he'd stooped into.

"Look, Sarge," he managed to get out in a more neutral tone, "I know you're a bit of a traditionalist – even if Erin isn't. That you've got your convictions. I do too. So I respect that. And I get that this has implications for your family and for the whole work situation."

"You aren't both staying in Intelligence if this is happening," he said and gestured at the box on the table again.

Jay held up both hands. "Would you just let me finish," he demanded somewhat exasperated. "Say my piece."

Voight gazed at him slightly unimpressed but again allowed himself to sit back further into his couch and sat pulling at his fingers. It was a movement that Jay had only recently realized was actually Voight stroking at where his wedding band had been. The finger was now empty but he still fiddled below the knuckle like there was a piece of gold there for him to twist around.

Jay let out a slow breath and gazed at the floor a moment, re-organizing his thoughts and preparing to speak. He finally looked up to find the man's eyes again.

"I won't pretend that I agree with how you do everything or some of the things I know you've done in your past. But I respect you as a cop. For what you try to do for this city. And, these past six months, I've gotten to see you as a father and family man too. I know you don't particularly like that I've gotten to see that side of you. Your family life. But I have. And I really respect what I see. Because I have a fucking point of comparison for a man who didn't handle shit as well as you. Didn't be there for his wife or kids or family. Didn't fucking do the in illness and in health thing. Not with his wife – and he sure as hell wouldn't do it for his kids. I'm not blind to what you're dealing with or how you're dealing with it or what you're going through.

"And, you know what, Voight? There's been so many fucking times these past six months where I've seen how you've been balancing it and managing it at work and at home and I've wondered if I could do the same. All these times where I've thought 'That's the kind of man I want to be. The husband I want to be. The father I want to be.""

Voight just looked at him.

Halstead let out another long exhale. "Something Erin and I have talked about – a lot, especially lately – is how this, here, is her family. How you showed her what family is. That family is the most important thing. And, that you and your wife are her measure of what a relationship is supposed to look like.

"Now I never met your wife and I don't know anything about what your marriage was like – but based on what I can see now; yeah, I can see how it would be a standard to strive for. And, that's something I'm willing to do. I will do my best to be that husband and that father. Because, you're right, Erin does deserve it. And she's really worth it.

"She's worth fighting for and not giving up on – and I've done both those things those past two years. I've worked really hard to earn her trust and respect. To get in her corner. And until six months ago, she was a really great cop. A good friend. A really great person to have around. Someone I didn't want to let go. But these last six months. With Ethan home and sick. It's more than that. Because I've gotten to see how she is with him and how she is with her family.

"And, yeah, she's still a great cop and my best friend. I love being around her. But what seeing her with Eth has driven home is just … she's going to be a great wife to someone and any kid should be so lucky to have her as a mom. And I want to be a part of that life with her. To help her get those things too. And, yeah, I'll still have her back in all her other achievements outside of our family life. I'll celebrate all that with her too and support her in it.

"So, I'm going to ask her to marry me. I'd prefer to do it sooner rather than later. I know this isn't super romantic but if I was all schmaltzy with her, she'd still likely hit me with that frying pan you've got for her under the tree. And, fucking beyond that Voight, I'd sort of like to relate Christmas maybe some more positive things. And this has just been a really shit year for all of us and it might be nice to have some positive things to look forward to."

Voight sat looking at him for so long that Jay was sure he was still going to kick him out of his house. Or at the very least ignore the ring box as much as he'd ignored the bottle of whisky.

Finally, though, Voight let out a slow exhale. His chest rising and falling heavily.

"You doing this here – this way – might blow up in your face," Voight provided.

Jay gave a little shrug. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm used to about 90 percent of my attempts with Erin failing on first pass. She decides things on her own timeline."

Voight kept twiddling at his ring finger, staring at him, until he finally scrubbed at his face and sat forward, going back to working at filling Ethan's stocking.

"I'm putting it at the bottom," he said flatly. "My kids don't dump the stockings. You'll be waiting for her to get to it all morning and won't have an easy way to get it back."

Jay shrugged again. "Been waiting longer then that anyways and don't plan on it going anywhere but her finger."

Voight cast him a look, considering him again for a moment but then looked away. "Get out of my sight," he ordered.

Halstead watched him for a second. "You sure you don't need help?"

Voight just grunted and gestured with his hand without even looking up. "Go," he ordered again.

Jay nodded and rose, returning to mount the stairs. As he went up them, he glanced back into the living room. Voight had stopped his work again and was gazing at the ring box.

AUTHOR NOTE: Lots of readers seemed to have missed Chapter 8. It's Erin and Jay at his apartment and it's slightly flirty.