Chapter 25 Clark
Hours passed in a blur of giggles and imaginary play, the three of us huddled around the coffee table with our stuffies in tow. I had my beloved Bananas, of course. Alex clutched his ratty stuffed puppy, Bingo, the one he swore up and down was named after the song and not the dog, thank you very much. And Elijah presided over the whole affair with his plush rabbit, Mr. Hoppington, clasped to his chest.
In the end, the villainous Baron von Broccoli was defeated, and the land was saved. The heroic trio retired to the royal gardens for a well-deserved tea party, regaling each other with tales of their exploits. Which, of course, led to the inevitable Daddy talk.
"... and then, even though I just wanted to color, my Daddy said it was time for a nap! Right in the middle of the day, like a baby! Can you believe that?" Alex threw his hands up, nearly sending his teacup flying.
I smothered a grin, reaching over to pat his knee consolingly. "Aww, poor Alex. How dare Uncle Will make you get some rest.”
Alex stuck his tongue out at me. "Naps are dumb," he grumbled, bottom lip jutting. "I'm a big boy, I don't need 'em. Tell him how silly naps are for big boys like us, Elijah."
But Elijah just shrugged, hugging Mr. Hoppington a bit closer. "I dunno, I kinda like naps. My daddies sing lullabies. Naps aren't so bad, long as there's cuddles and cookies."
"Traitor!" Alex gasped, jabbing an accusatory finger. "You're supposed to be on my side. Now Clark's gonna be all smug, thinking he's got the high ground."
It was a well-established fact that Alex was the most resistant to anything even remotely resembling structured downtime. Naps, quiet play, even just sitting still for five consecutive minutes... it was all met with the kind of dramatics one would expect from a kid being asked to eat a plateful of Brussels sprouts.
I just shrugged, trying for an innocent look that fooled exactly no one. "I don't know what you mean, Allie-gator. I would never dream of lording my superior naptime opinions over you. I'm far too mature and humble for that."
Alex narrowed his eyes, looking for all the world like an angry kitten. It was, frankly, adorable.
"I'll show you superior," he grumbled, lunging across the table in a playful attempt to grab me. But in his pique, he'd forgotten about the delicate dishes laid out between us.
Plastic cups and saucers went flying, bouncing off the carpet and ricocheting wildly. The teapot wobbled once, twice, then tipped precariously over the edge, its lid popping off and skittering under the couch with a forlorn rattle.
Giggles bubbled up and spilled over, quickly escalating into big, belly-deep guffaws. We collapsed into a pile of flailing limbs and hiccupping laughter, stuffies squashed between us as we howled.
Our giggle fit was interrupted by the sound of pounding feet and concerned exclamations.
"Is everyone okay? We heard a crash."
"If you little monsters broke my limited-edition Doctor Who tea set, so help me..."
Our Daddies skidded into the playroom, eyes wide and chests heaving. They took in the scene with mounting incredulity - the three of us sprawled in a tangle of flushed faces and hitching laughter.
The tense line of their shoulders eased, expressions shifting from worry to fond exasperation.
"Well, well," Oliver drawled, hands on his hips like a little league coach surveying a team of unruly players. "What have we here, hmm? A trio of giggly gremlins, from the looks of it."
"And what are giggling gremlins doing in my nice, clean playroom?" Daddy added, fighting valiantly to contain a smile. "Surely my sweet, well-behaved boys would never make such a ruckus. Must be some other scamps, run amok while their daddies weren't looking."
Alex rolled onto his back, grinning up at them. "It was an accident, Uncle Brody. Honest and true. The tea set just felt a little wobbly. Wanted to join in on the fun, see what all the giggling was about."
Uncle Will snorted. "Is that right, pumpkin? The tea set got a case of the sillies, all on its own? No help from any little boys who don't know their own strength?"
Alex nodded solemnly, eyes round and earnest. "That's right, Daddy. We were perfect angels, minding our manners and using our gentle hands. Just like you taught us."
Elijah made a choking noise, face going red.
"Alex!" he squeaked, caught between scandalized and delighted. "That's fibbing, you can't fib to the daddies."
Alex waved him off. "The prefer the term selective truth-telling. A nuanced art form, really.”
The Daddies exchanged a series of long-suffering looks over our heads, but even they couldn't hide their twitching lips.
"Selective truth-telling," Uncle Lance echoed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. "Dear lord, what are we going to do with you boys? It's a miracle you haven't ended up on the naughty list yet, the way you carry on."
"Aw, Daddy Lance! Don't even joke about that!" Elijah gasped, sitting bolt upright in sudden distress. "Santa won't put us on the naughty list, will he? Not for a little accident like this?"
Oliver chuckled, scooping his fretful boy up and cuddling him close. "No, sweet pea. Santa's not going to put you on the naughty list for having a bit too much fun. That's what Christmas is all about, after all. Joy and laughter and letting yourself be a little wild. Even if it means a few spills along the way."
Elijah subsided with a relieved sigh, burrowing into Oliver's chest. "Oh, good. I would've been so sad if we didn't get any presents, just 'cause the tea set got too excited."
Uncle Lance reached over to tap him gently on the nose, eyes sparkling. "Actually, that reminds me. I do believe a certain group of Daddies may have mentioned something about a big Christmas Eve surprise for three very special little boys. If they can manage to get their silly wiggles under control for a minute, that is."
Well, that certainly got our attention.
Alex nearly fell over himself scrambling upright, latching onto his Daddy’s arm with breathless enthusiasm. "Really, Daddy? Is Uncle Lance telling the truth? A surprise? For us? What is it? Is it a trip to the North Pole? Is it a pony? Wait no, is it a rocket ship?"
Uncle Will snorted, ruffling his boy’s hair. "Slow your roll, buddy. You'll find out soon enough, if you can muster up some patience. Think that's something you can handle, or should we put this on hold until you can act like a civilized little gremlin again?"
Alex's cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, clearly warring with the urge to sass back.
"I can be patient, Daddy. I promise. I'll be so good, the best boy. Just pretty please with sugar on top, tell us what the surprise is."
Daddy and Uncle Will exchanged a look of gleeful anticipation, letting the suspense draw out. Finally, Uncle Lance took pity on us.
"Alright, you little monkeys. Let's see if you can follow directions, hmm? Go wash up and meet us in the family room in five minutes. Daddies are going to need all their little helpers on their best behavior if we're going to get this show on the road."
With an earsplitting cheer, we were off like a shot. I barely remembered to grab Bananas on my way out the door, I was in such a tizzy. Alex, of course, was the first one ready. He bounced from foot to foot as Elijah and I scrambled to wash our sticky hands and faces, nearly knocking us over in his impatience.
"C'mon! The surprise is waiting, we've gotta hurry!"
I rolled my eyes, flicking water at him. "Cool your jets, Sonic. It's not going anywhere, the Daddies said so."
Alex just stuck his tongue out, grabbing my hand and towing me along. "Don't care. Wanna see what it is, and I wanna see now. Let’s go!"
Realizing resistance was futile, I let myself be dragged. Elijah trotted along behind us, giggling madly at our antics.
When we burst into the family room, it was to find it completely transformed. Twinkling fairy lights were strung up everywhere, bathing the space in a soft, ethereal glow. And in the center of it all, a towering Christmas tree, decked out in shimmering garlands and glittering ornaments.
Daddy came up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist and propping his chin on my shoulder. "You like it, baby boy?" he murmured, smile evident in his voice. "We wanted to make tonight extra special. Give you a little Christmas Eve magic to carry you through to the big day."
I could only nod. Daddy squeezed me gently. Pressed a smacking kiss to my lips before guiding me further into the room.
With an excited squeal, Alex and Elijah darted forward, making a beeline for the pile of presents tucked beneath the tree. I followed at a more sedate pace, Daddy a reassuring presence at my back.
"They match our Daddies," Elijah crowed, snatching up a gift decked out in shiny crimson, Uncle Oliver's signature color.
Sure enough, when I peeked at the tag, it read "To Elijah, my precious Christmas elf. Love, your Daddies."
Instantly, my gaze went to the other boxes, searching for a familiar shade of cornflower blue. Daddy's blue. I eagerly tore into the wrapping paper. What I found beneath made me gasp aloud, eyes going wide in shocked delight. It was an art set. A deluxe, top of the line kit, complete with every medium and tool a budding artist could dream of. Pencils and charcoals, pastels and paints. An array of high-quality sketchbooks, each one emblazoned with a cheeky doodle. Silly caricatures of me and Daddy, rendered in his scratchy yet endearing style.
I flew into Daddy's arms. Buried my face in his chest and clung.
"Thank you," I managed, words muffled against his sweater. "I love it, I love you. So much."
Daddy squeezed me tight, rocking us gently.
A piercing squeal rang out. Alex, it seemed, had discovered his own special present. I peeked over Daddy's shoulder to see him clutching a massive box. When he finally managed to tear it open, out spilled books. Dozens and dozens of books, all the latest titles from his favorite fantasy and sci-fi authors. The ones he'd been lusting after for months, bemoaning the long wait between installments.
For a moment, he could only gape. Then, with another earsplitting whoop, he tackle-hugged his Daddy, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
"Best present ever!" Alex crowed, peppering Uncle Will's face with kisses.
Will just gathered his boy close and held on tight.
"Only the best for my clever little bookworm. Can't have you getting bored over winter break, now can we?"
Soon enough, we had all devolved into a puddle of mush, cuddling our respective Daddies and babbling incoherently about what thoughtful, wonderful, secretly magical Daddies we had.
Eventually, with a regretful sigh, Lance checked his watch and shot Oliver a look. "Alright, my little Christmas elves. What do you say we let the Daddies relax for a bit, hmm? Maybe put on a festive flick while you play quietly, give us a chance to recharge before supper?"
Elijah and I nodded agreeably, still blissed out on Daddy snuggles. But Alex, never one to go gently into downtime, had other ideas. A worryingly familiar gleam sparked in his eye, mouth curling up at the corners in a way that never boded well.
"Well, actually. I had another idea. Something to show our appreciation, for all our Daddies' hard work."
Not ten minutes later, we were lined up in front of our bemused Daddies, an odd assortment of blankets serving as improvised costumes.
Alex had cast himself as the narrator, never one to miss an opportunity to hold court. He'd fashioned a long cloak and fake beard out of a flannel throw, the gravitas of his tone severely undermined by the fluffy wool tickling his nose.
Elijah got to be his faithful sidekick, swathed in so many layers of fleece I feared he might overheat. He beamed at his daddies as he solemnly accepted his duties as The Exposition Fairy.
I, apparently, had been designated the villain of our little drama. The dreaded Grinch figure, hell bent on thwarting the Littles' quest for Christmas cheer.
I had a sneaking suspicion this was payback for winning a game of Mario Kart earlier, but protesting would've been futile. The role of a lifetime, Alex called it. My big breakout moment, a chance to prove my theatrical chops once and for all.
So there I stood, draped in an emerald green sheet and doing my best to look menacing. Alex paced in front of us, one hand raised as if presenting to an imaginary audience.
"It was the night before Christmas," he intoned. "And all through the house, not a creature was stirring."
"Actually, I was a little stirring. Just a skosh of stirring, really, nothing to write home about. I needed a wee midnight snack, you see."
Elijah's stage whisper cut through the dramatic tension like a knife through butter, high and breathy with nerves. His cheeks pinked up as every eye swiveled his way, hands twisting in his robe.
Alex sighed, long and put-upon. "Yes, fine, a little light stirring was underway. The point, dear Daddies, is that it was a quiet, peaceful night."
What followed was a convoluted series of events that I'm honestly not sure I fully followed. At one point Elijah got tangled up in his robes and nearly faceplanted, only to pop up and declare it a cunning ploy to distract me with his adorable clumsiness. Alex ran with it, weaving it into the narrative with barely a pause.
By the time we reached our dramatic final confrontation, I was nearly in tears from holding in my laughter. Alex and Elijah had devolved into clumsy stage combat, brandishing wooden spoons and flailing at each other with wild abandon.
When Elijah accidentally smacked himself in the face and let out a startled "oof!", I couldn't take it anymore. I broke character with an unseemly snort, doubling over and wheezing. That set the other two off, of course. Soon we were all rolling on the floor, cackling. Our discarded props and bits of costume went flying, no rhyme or reason to any of it.
Behind us, I heard our Daddies start to chuckle too. Low and rueful at first, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But as the giggle fit showed no sign of abating, growing more boisterous by the second, they eventually lost the battle.
"Oh my god," Uncle Will gasped, clutching his stomach between laughs. "I don't even have words."
"Utterly batshit?" Oliver suggested, wiping tears from his eyes. "Completely unhinged? The daftest thing you've ever witnessed, bar none?"
Lance smacked him on the arm, grinning ear to ear. "Hush, you. They worked hard on that. Poured their sweet little hearts and souls into... whatever the flying fuck that was."
"Okay, fine. It was absolute rubbish and you know it. But you can't tell me you didn't have fun."
I snickered, scooting over to poke him in the ribs. "Oh, I had a ball. Watching you make an utter fool of yourself is my favorite holiday pastime. I'm thinking of making commemorative t-shirts for next year's performance."
Alex swatted at me halfheartedly. Elijah crawled between us before I could formulate a suitably scathing retort, interrupting our bickering with an exaggerated yawn.
"I'm sleepy," he declared, rubbing at his eyes with a tiny fist. "Thwarting evil really takes it out of you."
Daddy, ever attuned to my needs, swooped in and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. I went boneless against his chest, humming contentedly as he cradled me close.
"Alright, my little Christmas warriors. I think it's time we got you all tucked up snug for a quick nap.”
There were token grumbles of protest, but no real heat behind them. We were all fading fast, eyes drooping and words slurring as the Daddies carried us off to the bedroom.
As I burrowed deeper into the comfort of Daddy's embrace, I felt myself start to drift. The warmth of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the soothing rumble of his voice. It all conspired to pull me under, soft and slow.
I barely registered being lowered onto cool sheets, gentle hands tucking blankets around my chin. A tender kiss pressed to my forehead, a whispered endearment. And then, nothing but the dark of dreamless sleep, deep and blissfully undisturbed.