A/N: Christmas is here! The next few chapters are floof, but Helix style.
Note: The Christmas Worm is real...I made it when I was three. You will understand this sentence after you read the story.
( Volume: 3 Arc: "Holidays" 7 Issue: 1/4 )
Chapter 101: tree
"DAT ONE!" Nate shrieked.
Julian blew out frosty air. They were in a parking lot full of Christmas trees, because Laura had (again) insisted that they celebrate properly. She was
so weird, he mused. She hated tradition and yet every damn holiday he'd known her for, she forced him to pull out all the bells and whistles.
The plans had been altered; Sarah, Megan and Debbie were now flying over to spend Christmas with them, as it had been decided that the Shrimps were
still entirely too wild to be cooped up in an airplane for a nine-hour flight (as well as the fact that money was tight to be leaving just now, paid tickets or not).
They would attempt the voyage next year, Laura had promised. Their arrival was possibly why said Laura was on a cleaning and decorating rampage with
the ornaments she'd forced him to buy (Julian had told her 'she'd decorate anything that stood still long enough', and Laura had been annoyed, but
slightly more relaxed afterwards).
Next on the list was kitchen wares. A turkey pan. Baking sheets. A handheld mixer. Laura was planning to cook, an idea that scared him. He didn't know if she
was actually capable of Christmas food—he knew he certainly wasn't. But Laura had decided she wanted gingerbread cookies for the Shrimps, 'because hopping
two telekinetic toddlers—with claws—up on sugar can have nothing but good results', or so he reasoned sarcastically.
Nate ran up to the tree and disappeared under the branches, making it tilt precariously. Julian glanced around, then stabilized it mentally. He'd rather risk
exposing himself as a mutant than spend his holidays in the ER with a tree-flattened toddler. He constantly forgot about the healing factor.
Anyone in his position would.
"I dunno, dude. That's a pretty big tree for a little guy like you," he said skeptically, watching Nate rustle the branches.
"Tito said Santa putted toys undeh twee!" Nate explained, facing Julian again with wide eyes. "Lots an' lots! Big space mean moweh toys! Need big woom!"
"Having a bigger tree doesn't mean you're going to get more presents," Julian said, finding it hard not to laugh at the toddler's basic logic (he knew Nate would be hurt if he did).
"Not moweh!" Nate said frantically, running to his knee. "BIG! Lego castle!"
Julian did snort, but he disguised it as a cough. So Nate was beginning to develop mentally—he was planning things, wanting things, and using logic as to
how he was going to get them. In a sense.
He ruffled the boy's soft hair, making it stick up. "We'll see." He was mentally calculating the number of parts in a Lego castle—so far, he'd come up with
80 million. Granted, Nate hadn't lost any of his boat set yet…but he would still worry.
It would be a new obstacle for him to clear in the living room. Sometimes he felt like a show horse at a jumping competition.
"Dat one," Nate said again in a stubborn tone.
Footsteps; larger ones accompanied by a smaller, odd-gaited, pattering set. Laura approaching, holding Rachel's hand. Julian glanced
at them; the former was wrinkling her nose.
"Nate wants this one," Julian said.
"Oh," she said examining the tree critically. "Will that fit? It's really fat...we should get a smaller one."
"But MUM!" Nate said, worried.
"No, Nate…we'll find another one, okay?" Laura said.
"WANT," the twins said in unison. Rachel blinked afterwards, looking confused, then looked at Nate with an annoyed expression.
"Nate, don't make your sister agree with you. It's bad manners." Laura traded amused glances with Julian. This had happened several times, during the
last month; Nate would temporarily hijack the hive mind the twins shared to force Rachel to second his demands. The parents had noticed Rachel's
bewildered behavior immediately after each episode, and had put two and two together.
It could be a serious problem, later, but for the moment, it had given them quite a few good laughs (especially when they thought about how
most parents simply had trouble with their offspring arguing, instead of agreeing).
"But mum!"
"Why do you want such a big tree?" Laura folded her arms, staring the toddler down and putting him on the spot. Nate looked away, not wanting
to divulge to her—the monster that always told him 'no'—and timed his favorite toys—what he was hoping (and planning) to get.
"Nate."
"Castle!" Nate burst, looking sulky.
"He wants that Lego castle we saw a couple of months ago," Julian said. "He figures if the tree's got enough space, it's going to magically appear
underneath it. And how does he come up with this?"
"Why, Tito told him, of course," Laura said dryly. It was the answer to the source of almost every bizarre thing Nate had ever shared with them.
"Correct." Julian put his hands in his pockets and played with his keys.
"MUM!" Nate said urgently. "Want!"
"Alright, alright," Laura said grudgingly. "If I let you have this tree, you're going to be a good boy on the way home, right?"
"YES!" Nate almost shouted.
"I still wouldn't recommend giving them sugar," Julian said.
Laura was silent.
On the way to the tree lot, Nate had picked up his sippy-cup and begun a juice fight with Rachel. The first indicator of the fight had been a massive jet of
apple juice hitting the windshield between the two parents at a stoplight (Laura had panicked, thinking they had forgotten their potty training), and they
had had to pull over when the Shrimps began screaming at each other. Both toddlers had been covered head to foot, and the back seat was a sticky
mess that would require ample cleaning time (fortunately he'd had the foresight to buy seat protectors, after the last mess which involved car sickness).
"I think I'm going to ask Santa for pet-carriers," Julian added vehemently.
…
"I can't believe I put up with this shit," he groaned later, on the couch (the toddlers asleep). No matter how short the outing with the Shrimps, he always
found himself with a migraine afterwards. "You have got to have a good talk about claws with your son."
At the grocery store, Julian had turned his back on Nate (who had been sitting in the cart) for three seconds, when he heard a distinctive Snkkt of six little
bone claws ejecting. He'd whipped his head around to see the toddler with both little fists jammed up to the knuckles in a nearby beef cut. With a price
label of nearly eighty dollars. He'd tried to act casual and shield Nate from view as he made the boy remove his claws (they'd gotten stuck), eventually
holding his hands and carefully pulling them out. Then he'd quickly wheeled the cart away, his face red.
Laura had found this hilarious.
"Can't blame him, you know. Poking meat is fun."
"Not when it's top sirloin, Laura." Julian looked at the freezer, which opened, and an icepack floated out to his waiting hand. "We don't have the
kind of money that allows us to do that."
"Fine, I'll talk to him," she sighed. "I thought he was going to behave after we got the tree he wanted. That thing's fucking huge."
"More than the budget, too," Julian said. "Might need to borrow some money if we're going to stay along with your plan."
"Of course we are," Laura said firmly. "Keller…this is their first Christmas, and Emma thinks they're old enough to be forming memories. Our grace
period for shit we can pull off without them remembering it later is over. We have to do things right from now on."
"Great," Julian said, pressing the icepack against his forehead. "To be honest, I'm not all that worried about them not getting what they
want. My first, like, seven Christmases, I didn't get much…and I think I turned out okay."
"Well, I don't want them to be 'okay'. I want them to be happy." Laura replied. "Move over." She shoved his feet off the couch and sat down
with a heavy whump. "Do you think Nate should get his castle-thing?"
"Why are you asking me?" Julian countered in an annoyed tone, still holding the icepack over his forehead and eyes. "No, my one-year-old-son
who strongly resembles the antichrist should not get an enormous set of tiny, edible parts that would fill like half our living room and get in the way
all the time. I stepped on a pirate sword the other day, and while it didn't penetrate, it hurt like fuck."
Laura grinned. "How much is that thing?"
"A hundred dollars more than I have," Julian said flatly, knowing she was going to ignore his opinion anyways.
"We could ask Logan if he wants to chip in."
"I'm sure he'd be really flattered if you asked him."
"Keller, can you stop being such a pain in my ass? Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Laura backhanded him in the shoulder, and he exhaled hard and rubbed the area, but gave her a shit-eating grin.
"If we get Nate a big gift, then Rae's going to feel left out," Laura continued, in a concerned tone.
"Nate's joy will be gift enough for her," Julian said sarcastically. "She probably wouldn't be able to think her own thoughts for like a month
after. Poor kid. I'd rather be skinned alive than share a brain with that little monster."
Laura was amused. "Well, eventually she'll figure out it works both ways, right? Or maybe she has already, and that's why Nate hangs around with Tito so much."
Julian removed the icepack. "Whoa, whoa—back up. You think Rae is using Nate to get face time with Tito?"
"I'm not saying anything. Who knows what goes on in their little minds. I don't think she's doing that—I mean, you can always tell when
Nate takes over. He's a lousy telepath…sucks at subtlety. Wonder where he got that from."
"Probably you," Julian mumbled, putting his arm around her waist.
"Fuck you, Keller."
"Please and thank you."
…
Julian watched the Special Ed class, last for the Winter holidays, mentally thanking Laura for helping him think up activities to occupy his
students. Half the class was making ornaments out of sculpy, and the other half was cutting paper angels with child-safe scissors. Surprisingly,
the class seemed to like this—all except for Sylvia, who glared at him darkly and refused to accept materials.
In exchange for the favor of helping him with activities, however, Laura had demanded he take Nate with him to class (since it was just crafts).
The boy was seated on the counter, bending pipe cleaners into what were supposed to be holiday shapes but were most distinctly not.
"You're supposed to use the walnuts, Nate," Julian said, holding one up. The walnuts had little holes made in the bottom by Laura with her claws.
"Here, see? The idea is you make deer."
"NO!" Nate said stubbornly, twisting the pipe cleaner, then holding it up. "See? Issa Cwissmass wehm!"
Julian stared at the red squiggle, now seeing what the boy had been doing all the long. "Nate…there's no such thing as a 'Christmas worm'."
"Yes dere is!" Nate insisted. "Tito told me!"
Julian traded looks with Angel and Beak across the room. They were working on a snowman out of Styrofoam balls (with a bored expression).
"Guys…I think we're going to need to have a little talk about what your son tells mine," he said grimly to them.
…
Logan stomped into the mansion, in a bad mood. He'd just returned from another dead end lead—Russia this time—and the games people were
playing with him about his past and his loved ones were making him sick. No matter how hard he tried, here he was, a broken man, looking forwards
to spending his Christmas with a cupboard of booze and a Kick inhaler.
The couples in the house, and the kids, annoyed him to no end. He'd worked harder than any of them…and he still didn't deserve to have that, whatever
magical element they'd touched on. Even crueler, a chance was dangled in front of him; like a mechanical rabbit in a greyhound race, it just kept moving away.
In his room, Logan punched the wall in frustration, his other hand holding a bottle of Jack Daniels. A shower of drywall filled the air. That was fucking it.
He couldn't stay here. He'd go—tell Scott he resigned—to hell with the X-men. He'd go and find his damn rabbit.
Knock knock.
Logan growled and tore open the door. "What the hell do you—"
It was Laura, holding Rachel's hand. The two girls blinked, Rachel leaning back slightly with a small frown as she looked up at him. "Snow?" she asked her
mother in her high-pitched child's voice, meaning the drywall in Logan's hair.
"Doing some decorating?" Laura asked, peering over his shoulder nosily. She could obviously see the hole in his wall.
"Course," he grunted. Fucking clone.
"You should frame it," Laura said. "That makes anything look good."
Normally, Logan would have thrown in a quip like 'even Summers', but he was quite pissed off just now. "You want something'?" he asked instead.
"We're here to invite you to dinner for the big day," Laura said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm having second thoughts now, 'coz you look like you're going to eat me,
and I don't want the Shrimps' first Christmas to involve cannibalism."
Logan folded his arms. "I don't do holiday shit, kid."
"Neither do we, but we're pretending for those of us who haven't learned better," she said seriously. "The Shrimps will be disappointed if you don't come. Oh,
yeah, and it's mandatory to bring a present for each of them."
Rachel tugged on Logan's jean-covered knee. "Pyease," she said, seeming to understand what was being asked.
"Fine," Logan grunted. "There gonna be booze?"
"I'm insulted you would even ask that." Laura grinned, and her DNA-original had a moment of worry. "The good stuff will have to wait until the minors are in bed,
though…I can just picture Nate pulling a Keller and jetting off to Africa like a little bottle rocket on a flask of fireball…"
"Hrumpf." Logan did look amused. "Fine," he said again. "I'll come to your lil shindig thing. But don't expect me to sing Christmas carols or
whatever shit you've got planned."
"I will personally execute the first person who even looks like they're about to start singing," Laura promised solemnly.