TW: Domestic Abuse
Can be interpreted as omegaverse, trans Jack or Jack who had a kid and got left with him. Let me know if you'd like to see more
"But it don't snow here, it stays pretty green, gonna make lots of money and then quit this crazy scene, oh I wish I had a river to skate away on…"
Jack listened to the song play gently on the radio. He couldn't remember when the music had started playing, some time before the bruise began to form around his eye. He sniffled and looked over his shoulder to find the man sleeping behind him completely peacefully, like nothing at all in the world was wrong.
It was Christmas Eve.
As gently as he could, he slipped out of the bed and walked through the cold trailer, pulling a blanket around himself and letting himself into the small bedroom beside his own. He curled up on the child sized bed where a little boy who looked so much like the man sleeping in the other room was shivering beneath a thin blanket. Jack bundled the child up in his own blanket and the little boy blinked his perfect blue eyes open. "Daddy…" he breathed. "Too cold ta sleep…"
Jack nodded. "I know, Racer…" he breathed. "I'm here, it'll be warmer now. Go back ta sleep…"
Race sighed, putting his tiny hand on the side of Jack's face. "You got a ouchie…" he murmured tiredly.
Shushing him, Jack rubbed his thumb along the child's cheek. "Daddy's okay… go ta sleep, huh?"
The little boy sighed and didn't make any attempt to close his eyes. "Is it true what Papa said?" he asked. "Santa… he won't come? Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"No, baby, of course not," Jack assured. "Oh, my boy, you are so sweet that Santa don't even know how ta handle it."
Race sniffled. "But he ain't comin'…" he whimpered, clearly on the verge of tears.
It didn't take much for the boy to break Jack's heart. After all, it did belong to him. Jack used to love Christmas growing up. He'd never had much. His parents were both drug addicts, so he had been in and out of foster homes and no one really ever had much money for decorations or gifts. But Jack knew that Christmas was supposed to be happy and friendly and warm and soft. His son had never had any of that. Jack had asked his husband for a tree this year. It had only resulted in another bruise.
"Tyler… sweet angel, Santa, he gets real busy, n' we don't have a chimney for him ta come down or a good roof for the reindeer n' Santa, he's got so many kids ta see," Jack tried to explain. "N' he knows that you're such a good little boy an' he's so sorry he can't come for you."
Rubbing at his teary eyes, the little boy shivered a bit and rubbed his nose in Jack's shirt. "Papa's scary…" he whimpered. "Why is Papa so scary?"
Jack shushed him, looking out the window. The snow had slowed. He scooped Race up in his arms and rocked him and swayed in front of the window. It was 11:45 on Christmas Eve and Jack was trying to sway his five year old son to sleep. But the boy clung to him, scared and cold and confused. Jack could still see the dent in the wall where his husband had slammed his head into a wall. He paused, remembering how he'd only been trying to get Race to stop crying over not being able to dance to Christmas music in the living room because Harrison, his good for nothing husband, didn't want to watch him be goofy at that moment.
There were so many dents and scars and bruises on Jack's own skin that told the same story. This trailer was full of beer stains and broken glass and it was Christmas Eve and Jack wasn't even allowed to get his son new shoes.
Harrison said they couldn't afford it. Jack had muttered that if he hadn't spent all of his money on booze— and that's when Jack had gotten a bruised rib.
Jack stared out at the snow. "Hey, Tyler?" he breathed, looking down at his little boy. "You wanna go on an adventure?" The boy blinked up at him and nodded. "You sure?" Jack asked. "It'll be cold… and… long, but it'll be you n' me," he promised.
Race sniffled. "I wanna be with you, Da'…" he insisted.
Jack looked behind him before he grabbed the warmed clothes Race had and got him dressed, putting in snow boots that were getting small for him. He wrapped the boy up in a blanket and grabbed all the cash from Harrison's wallet before he opened the door as quietly as he could. It was freezing.
Still, Jack began his hike through the snow. "We can do this, baby… just… hold onto me… we're gonna go find Santa," he promised as he walked, not sure what was going to happen, if he'd even make it, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.
So he just kept walking.
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