Chapter Text
Chapter 1
A What?
The roast's scent had been filling their Credenhill townhome for the better part of an hour, that particular combination of beef and root vegetables that made the place smell like someone's gran was cooking. Simon had the oven door cracked open slightly, checking the internal temperature with the meat thermometer, when his phone buzzed against the counter.
Rebecca Ramsey, their sometimes babysitter’s name lit up the screen. He wiped his hands on the tea towel tucked into his waistband and answered, immediately hitting speaker so he could keep working. The rolls needed to go in soon if they were going to be ready when everything else finished.
“Rebecca, how are you?”
“Good, Simon, thanks for asking.” Her voice came through clear, that warm tone she always had. “How's the family? John doing alright now that he’s back to work? And the kids?”
Simon pulled the green beans from the fridge, setting them on the cutting board. “Everyone's good. Johnny's as big a pain as ever. Got back three day ago from his first deployment since he was shot in the arse and was no more worse for wear than usual. Kids are excited about Christmas.”
“Tell me about it. Elena is counting the days. Speaking of Christmas, do you all have plans?”
The always sharp knife moved through the beans in steady rhythm, the snap of each cut satisfying. “Heading back to Inverness for the holidays. Johnny's family. We'll probably leave Saturday morning when his leave starts.” He paused, shaking his head even though she couldn't see it. “Though Ah’ve been outvoted on something ridiculous.”
Rebecca laughed. “What's that?”
“Johnny and the kids went out to get Christmas decorations. For here.” Simon swept the cut beans into the steamer basket. “We're leaving in four days. It's a complete waste of money, but apparently Ah'm the only one with sense and a complete Scrouge.”
Her laughter got louder. “Oh, that's brilliant. Let me guess, you got outvoted three to one?”
“Exactly.” Simon checked the roast again. Another twenty minutes, maybe. “Democracy in action.”
“Well, that actually brings me to why I called.” Rebecca's tone shifted slightly, more purposeful. “The military wives do this thing every year around Christmas. A cookie exchange. I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining us.”
Simon's hand paused on the oven door. “A cookie exchange?”
“Everyone bakes a dozen of their favorite recipe for each person participating. Then we all get together and swap them. That way you end up with a huge variety without having to bake twelve different kinds yourself.” She was clearly warming to the explanation. “People use them for gift baskets, or to give to coworkers, or just to have around for the holidays. Whatever you like.”
The concept settled in his brain, turning over. It was practical, efficient even. And the kids would love it. “When is it?”
“Friday night. There are already twelve people signed up, so you'd need to bake at least twelve dozen. More if you want extras for home.”
Simon did the math automatically. Twelve dozen. That was a lot of baking, but spread across two days with the kids helping, it was manageable. And Charlie's therapist was on holiday until after New Year, so they'd have Thursday free. “That actually sounds like fun. The kids would enjoy it.”
“Perfect!” Rebecca's enthusiasm came through clearly. “I'll add you to the list. We're meeting at Eliza Mason’s house at seven on Friday. I’ll text you the address. It’ll be a fun little thing, hot chocolate, the kids can assemble gingerbread houses. Nothing too fancy, but the family’s welcome.”
“We'll be there.”
They said their goodbyes and Simon set the phone aside, his mind already running through recipes. Johnny had that shortbread recipe from his gran that was foolproof. Or maybe the gingerbread, the kids had enjoyed cutting out shapes. He'd figure it out.
The timer went off for the rolls. Simon pulled the pan from where he'd left them rising and slid them into the oven, then checked the roast one final time. The temperature was perfect. He pulled it out, setting it on the cutting board to rest, and started arranging everything else.
The front door burst open with that particular chaos that meant his family had returned. Multiple voices talking over each other, Ruby's nails clicking on the hardwood going to meet them in her excitement, bags were rustling. Simon grabbed the carving knife and started slicing the roast into neat portions.
“Dad! Dad, look what we got!” Izzy's voice carried from the entryway, high and excited.
“In the kitchen,” Simon called back, not looking up from his work. The meat was perfect, pink in the center, juices running clear. Umm. He couldn’t wait. He’d never been much for cooking before kids, just the basics. But now, with their own home and having to make nutritious meals, it was just more efficient, more cost effective. Not to mention that either he was getting used to his own failed skill, or he was improving. Either way, worked for him.
His family flooded in like a small army. Izzy had a bag in each hand, Charlie was wheeling himself carefully through the doorway with another bag balanced on his lap, and Johnny brought up the rear with Ruby dancing around his feet. All three of them were talking at once, showing him things, pulling decorations from the bags. Yea, they were definitely Johnny’s kids.
Simon kept plating food, transferring roast and vegetables and rolls onto dishes. “Wash your hands first, then you can show me properly.”
The scramble to the sink was predictable. Izzy got there first, Charlie parked his chair to wait his turn, and Johnny hung back, his hand finding the small of Simon's back as he passed. That brief touch, warm through Simon's shirt, grounding and he leaned in to claim a sweet apologetic kiss.
Johnny knew it was a waste. He did, but he absolutely loved Christmas and didn’t want to wait until leave to start living it. Simon, didn’t enjoy it, to put it mildly. Johnny understood his reasons. He’d lost his entire family on Christmas morning. That had taken years to get out of the big guy, and frankly, Soap putting his foot all the way to the knee in his mouth. Fuck, he’d felt bad for that. Forcing the holiday on Simon, assuming he had someone to go home to, a mum or a grandma, or anything.
From then on, he spent any Christmas they weren’t deployed with his giant emo menace, and would spend every one of them for the rest of their lives if he had his way. Simon indulged him in things like this, and he didn’t push Simon to participate. Welcomed him, but would never push him. It was a good understanding. It was respect, and that was just as important as love and passion in a relationship. They both agreed on that.
“How was shopping?” Simon asked, carrying the first two plates to the table.
“Brilliant,” Johnny said, already helping by grabbing the water pitcher from the fridge. “They were very restrained, actually. Ah'm impressed.”
“We got lights!” Izzy announced, drying her hands on the towel. “The little white ones that twinkle. And garland for the stairs. And Charlie found this really cool thing with snowflakes.”
Charlie wheeled over to the table, his face bright with excitement. “It's window clings. They stick on and come right back off. No damage.”
Simon set the last two plates down and settled into his chair. The decorations were spread across the coffee table, a modest collection compared to what he'd been imagining. A small tabletop tree, maybe two feet tall. Two strands of lights. Some garland. The window clings Charlie mentioned. A few ornaments, nothing extravagant.
“That's it?” The words came out before he could stop them.
Johnny grinned, sitting down and immediately reaching for his fork. “Told ye they were restrained. We'll do the full Christmas at home in Inverness. This is just so it feels a bit festive before we leave.”
“Ken we decorate after dinner?” Izzy asked, already cutting into her roast.
Simon looked at the pile of decorations, at his kids' eager faces, at Johnny's satisfied expression. Four days. They'd be gone in four days and all of this would need to be packed up again. But the kids were happy, and Johnny looked pleased with himself, and really, what was the harm?
“After dinner,” Simon agreed. “And after the kitchen's cleaned up.”
The cheer that went up made Ruby bark, her tail wagging as she sensed the excitement. Simon cut into his own roast, the meat tender and perfectly cooked, and let the conversation wash over him. Izzy was already planning where the tree would go, Charlie was explaining the science of static cling and how the window decorations worked, and Johnny was making suggestions that were probably deliberately ridiculous just to make the kids laugh.
The food was good. The company was better. And if they wanted to spend four days with Christmas decorations before heading home to Scotland, Simon could live with that. Even if it was, objectively, a complete waste of money.
He'd been outvoted. Democracy in action.
But watching his family's faces, the way Izzy gestured wildly with her fork while describing her vision for the garland, the way Charlie's entire expression lit up when he talked about the physics of twinkling lights, the way Johnny's foot found his under the table and pressed there, warm and solid, Simon thought maybe being outvoted wasn't the worst thing in the world.
“Oh,” Simon said, remembering. “Rebecca called. There's a cookie exchange Friday night. Military wives thing. Ah said we'd join.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to him.
“Ye did?” Johnny’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, practically meeting his short cropped mohawk. “Really?
“Yea, sounded like fun. We can bake tomorrow and Thursday, if we don’t finish tomorrow. Pack them all up, go trade cookies with the other wives. One dozen for each person participating. Rebecca said there’d be hot chocolate and gingerbread houses to build. Thought you and kids would like that.” Simon explained while he ate. The kids' excitement was immediate and obvious.
Johnny couldn’t believe his ears. Had to be a mistake. Fucking hell. Great! Brilliant. Simon making holiday cookies and taking them to a party for families. Amazing. There you go, his Christmas miracle, regardless of how the visit home went. He got this. He didn’t even attempt to hid his grin as the kids jumped all over the concept.
“Ken we make gingerbread?” Izzy asked.
“And shortbread?” Charlie added. “With the shapes?”
“We'll figure it out,” Simon promised. “We've got tomorrow and Thursday to bake. Twelve dozen total.”
Johnny whistled low. “That's a lot of biscuits.”
“That's a lot of fun,” Izzy corrected, and Charlie nodded agreement.
“Thought we’d make a couple of care packages for the team, deliver them Saturday before we headed out. Take the rest for your sisters and gran.” Simon explained.
“Aye, that’d be brilliant. Hadn’t really thought of what we’d get them yet. Figured we’d take care of that when we got home.” Johnny agreed.
Simon finished his roast, already mentally cataloging what they'd need from the shops. Flour, sugar, butter. They had most of the basics, but twelve dozen cookies would require a proper supply run. He'd make a list after dinner, before they started decorating.
The meal disappeared quickly, everyone hungry and eager to get to the decorations. Simon cleared the plates while Johnny started on the dishes, their movements synchronized from years of practice. The kids wheeled and bounced around the kitchen, pulling decorations from bags and sorting them into piles.
“Tree goes in the front window,” Izzy declared, holding up the small artificial tree. “So people can see it from outside.”
“Window clings too,” Charlie agreed, examining the package. “These'll look brilliant when the sun comes through.”
Simon dried the last plate and hung up the tea towel. The kitchen was clean, the leftovers put away, and his family was ready to make their rented home look like Christmas had exploded in it for exactly four days before they left for Scotland.
Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
But Simon found himself smiling anyway as he followed them into the living room, ready to help string lights and arrange garland and stick snowflakes to windows. Because this was what family meant. Getting outvoted about decorations and baking twelve dozen cookies and watching his kids' faces light up over a two-foot tree.
Democracy in action. And Simon wouldn't have it any other way.
Izzy had the tree in her hands before Simon could even suggest a plan. She set it on the small table by the window, stepping back to examine the placement with the kind of critical eye that reminded Simon uncomfortably of himself. The things these kids had picked up in the short time they’d had them. Charlie wheeled closer, tilting his head as he considered the angle.
“Bit to the left,” he suggested.
Izzy shifted it. “Better?”
“Perfect.”
Johnny had already claimed the garland, draping it experimentally over the staircase railing. The artificial pine looked surprisingly decent in the low light, catching the warm glow from the living room lamps. He wrapped it around the banister in loose spirals, securing it with the wire ties that came in the package.
“Simon, ye're tall,” Johnny called without looking back. “Ye get to do the lights.”
“Why me? You keep telling me you’re not short.” Simon retorted.
“Because ye're a bloody tree, that's why.” Johnny shot him a grin over his shoulder. “And Ah'm busy with this, and the kids cannae reach.”
Fair enough. Simon took the strand of lights from where Charlie had set them on the coffee table, examining the plug and testing them first. They lit up immediately, tiny white bulbs twinkling in sequence. Good quality, at least. Johnny hadn't gone cheap on these.
The front window was the obvious choice. Simon started at one corner, pressing the adhesive clips to the frame and feeding the strand through. The lights draped in even loops, and he adjusted each section until the spacing looked right. Izzy supervised from below, occasionally calling out adjustments.
“Little higher on that side, Dad.”
Simon shifted the clip up an inch.
“Better.”
Charlie had the window clings spread across his lap, peeling the backing off each one and examining them. Snowflakes in various sizes, all done in that frosted white that would catch the light. He stuck the first one to the window glass, pressing it flat with careful fingers to work out any air bubbles.
“How's that look?” he asked.
“Brilliant,” Izzy said, already reaching for another. “Do the big ones in the corners and fill in with the smaller ones.”
They worked together, Charlie handing her clings and Izzy placing them higher up where he couldn't reach from his chair. Their system was efficient, practiced. The kind of communication that seemed reserved for twins. Simon watched them while he finished the lights, his chest doing that tight thing it did when he was reminded how well his kids worked together. Of how proud they made him, of how much he loved them.
Johnny had moved on to the garland over the doorway between the living room and kitchen. He'd dragged a chair over, standing on it to reach the top of the frame, and was securing the pine with more wire ties. Ruby sat at the base of the chair, tail wagging slowly, supervising.
“Hand me those ornaments, would ye?” Johnny called down.
Simon grabbed the small box of ornaments from the coffee table and brought them over. They were simple glass balls, red and gold and silver, nothing extravagant. Johnny took them and started clipping them to the garland at intervals, creating little spots of color against the green.
The tree was next. Izzy had it positioned exactly where she wanted it, and now she was stringing the second strand of lights through the branches. The tree was pre-lit, but apparently that wasn't enough. The additional strand wove through the artificial pine, doubling the twinkle effect. Charlie handed her ornaments one at a time, and she hung each one with the kind of deliberation that suggested she had a specific vision in mind.
Simon finished with the window lights and plugged them in. The effect was immediate and surprisingly pleasant. The white bulbs twinkled against the glass, the snowflake clings catching and refracting the light in patterns across the floor. Combined with the garland and the tree, the room had transformed into something that actually looked festive.
“There,” Izzy announced, stepping back from the tree. “Perfect.”
Charlie wheeled back to get a better view. “Yeah, that's really good.”
Johnny climbed down from his chair, pushing it back by the table where it belonged. He surveyed their work with obvious satisfaction, his hands on his hips. “Not bad for an hour's work.”
Simon had to admit, it didn't look bad at all. The decorations were tasteful, not overwhelming, and the twinkling lights gave the room a warm atmosphere that was actually pleasant. He could live with this for four days.
“Right,” Johnny said, clapping his hands together. “Bath time, ye wee monsters.”
“I'm not a monster,” Izzy protested, but she was already heading for the stairs.
“Aye, ye are. Ye're all monsters. Adorable ones, but monsters nonetheless.” Johnny's grin was wide as he looked at Charlie. “Come on, lad. Let's get ye sorted.”
Charlie wheeled himself toward the hallway that led to his room and bathroom. The route went around the side of the couch, a path they'd worn smooth over the months of living here. Johnny followed, pausing just long enough to lean in and press a kiss to Simon's mouth. Brief, sweet, tasting faintly of the roast they'd had for dinner.
“Ye made dinner and helped decorate,” Johnny murmured against his lips. “Least Ah can do is handle bath time.”
Simon took the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Johnny's jaw briefly before letting him go. “Appreciated.”
Johnny's smile was warm, his eyes soft in the low light, and then he was following Charlie down the hall. Simon heard the bathroom door open, heard Charlie's voice saying something that made Johnny laugh, and then the door closed and the sounds became muffled.
The living room felt suddenly quiet. Ruby had settled on her bed in the corner, already dozing. Izzy's footsteps were audible overhead, the old pipes creaking as she started the bath. Simon moved to his armchair.
The remote was on the side table. He picked it up and turned on the television, flipping through channels until he found something appropriate. Holiday movies were everywhere this time of year, unavoidable. He settled on one that looked harmless enough, something animated with talking animals and snow. The kind of thing the kids would enjoy without being too obnoxious.
The opening credits were just finishing when Izzy came back downstairs, her hair damp and pulled back, wearing her pajamas. She climbed onto the couch without asking, pulling the throw blanket over her legs.
“What're we watching?”
“Some Christmas thing,” Simon said. “Just started.”
She settled in, her attention already fixed on the screen. Charlie emerged from the hallway a few minutes later, Johnny behind him. Charlie had changed into his own pajamas, his hair wet and sticking up in odd directions. He wheeled himself to his usual spot between the couch and Simon's chair, and Johnny dropped onto the couch next to Izzy.
The movie was exactly what Simon had expected. Predictable plot, cheerful music, bright colors and simple lessons. The kids were engrossed immediately, and even Johnny seemed content to watch, his arm stretched along the back of the couch behind Izzy.
Simon let his attention drift between the screen and his family. Izzy was curled up small under her blanket, her eyes reflecting the television's glow. Charlie had his chin propped on his hand, watching with that focused intensity he brought to everything. Johnny's foot was pressed against Simon's ankle, a casual point of contact that grounded him.
The movie progressed. The main character learned about friendship or believing in yourself or the true meaning of Christmas, Simon lost track of which. The kids laughed at the jokes, made comments about the animation, predicted plot points with varying degrees of accuracy. It was comfortable, familiar, the kind of evening that had become their routine.
When the credits finally rolled, Izzy was yawning, her eyes heavy. Charlie was still awake but clearly tired, his shoulders slumped slightly in his chair. Johnny stood first, stretching his arms over his head until his back cracked.
“Right, bedtime for real now.”
“Do we have to?” Izzy's protest was half-hearted at best.
“Aye, ye do. Up ye get. Three more days of school till holiday.” Johnny was already heading for the stairs, and Izzy followed with only token resistance.
Simon stood, his knees protesting slightly after sitting for so long. Charlie was wheeling himself back toward his room, and Simon followed, reaching past him to open the door when they got there.
“Need help?” Simon asked.
“I'm good,” Charlie said, but his smile was warm. “Thanks, Dad.”
Simon waited while Charlie transferred himself to the bed, a process that had become smoother over time but still required concentration. Once Charlie was settled, Simon pulled the covers up and made sure the glass of water on the nightstand was within reach.
“Night, Charlie.”
“Night, Dad.”
Simon closed the door most of the way, leaving it cracked like Charlie preferred, so Ruby could come in, and headed back to the living room. Johnny was coming down the stairs, his expression soft in that way it got after tucking Izzy in.
“She's out already,” Johnny said quietly. “Dinnae even make it through her story.”
“Long day,” Simon observed.
“Aye.” Johnny moved closer, his arms sliding around Simon's waist. “Good day though.”
Simon's hands found Johnny's hips, pulling him in. “Yeah. Good day.”
They stood there for a moment, the house quiet around them except for Ruby's soft snoring from her bed. The Christmas lights twinkled in the window, casting patterns across the floor, and Simon thought maybe, just maybe, he could understand why Johnny loved this season so much.
“Come on,” Johnny murmured, tugging Simon toward the stairs. “Let's go to bed, mo ghràidh.”
Simon followed, his hand finding Johnny's and lacing their fingers together. Tomorrow they'd start baking, twelve dozen cookies that seemed excessive but would make his family happy. Friday they'd go to the exchange, meet other military families, let the kids build gingerbread houses. Saturday they'd deliver care packages to the team and then drive north to Inverness.
But tonight, the house was decorated and the kids were asleep and Johnny was leading him upstairs with that particular smile that promised things Simon definitely wanted. The lights could stay on overnight, welcoming them home if they came back down for water or to check on the kids.
Four days of Christmas decorations in a rental house. Still ridiculous. Still a waste of money.
But watching Johnny's face in the dim light, feeling the warmth of his hand, hearing the soft sounds of their sleeping children, Simon thought maybe being outvoted was exactly where he wanted to be.