Happy Newtmas, Nopseud!
Just a silly little bit of Newt'Verse fluff for Nopseud. You're the best! ♥
Somethin’ about this Special Time of Year
Lance loved Christmas and all of its traditional trappings. The tree, the twinkling starry lights, the boughs of pine and holly, Nativity scenes, that flocking snow in a spray can: he loved it all. He didn’t care that his “traditional family Christmas” came straight from the Stewarts--both Martha “It’s a Good Thing” Stewart and Jimmy “It’s a Wonderful Life” Stewart--instead of the Basses. If he wanted to go all out decorating for the holidays--
“--then, dammit, I should be allowed to.”
“But,” JC said.
“Even if I am an alien!”
“I’m just sayin--” JC tried again.
“Whoa.” Chris yawned dramatically. “Is it that time already? I think I’m heading to bed.”
“What?” Lance said. “It’s like... It’s 2:48.”
“In the afternoon,” JC added, like that really needed clarification.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “That’s because I’m sick and TIRED of listening to this argument every year. You can have it without me.”
“It’s a discussion,” JC said.
“It’s you being pig-headed,” Lance told JC.
“I’m being open-minded!”
“I’m outta here, fuckers. Argue your hearts out. I’m gonna go get Wii and assure her that daddies still love each other, even when they’re being shitty and stupid.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Lance said as JC’s face crumpled. JC pushed past Chris and rushed out of the room, presumably heading to the playroom where their daughter was still playing Skype dollies with her cousins, oblivious to her fathers’ discussion.
Lance turned to Chris. “Someday, you’re going to play the guilt card on him and it won’t work anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris scoffed. “Never gonna happen. Baby Girl’s got him completely wrapped around her little finger... or, you know, tentacles... whatever.”
“Oh, my God,” Lance said. “I seriously hope we never go back to the tentacles stage.”
“I dunno... They were sort of cute, you know, in a ‘Holy Crap! The National Inquirer would pay us millions for our family photos’ sort of way. Especially if-- Oh, hey. I’ve got a great idea!”
“No.” It didn’t matter that Lance didn’t know what Chris was about to suggest. ‘No’ was obviously the only answer to it.
“Can Stacey shift into Elvis? We could do a family holiday photo. Oh, shit. It would be so great. Like... all of us lined up on the couch together and wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters that money can buy. You, me, JC, Elvis, and our little tentacle girl. Oh, my God. I wants it!” Chris was nearly vibrating with excitement over his latest ‘brilliant, evil-genius plan.’
“No,” Lance said.
“We could show it to everyone! I mean, I’d never endanger Wii, you know that--”
“Chris...”
“Hey,” Chris said, instantly turning dead serious. He tugged at Lance, pulling him into a hug. “I’d never endanger any of you. They’re never gonna find out that aliens are real or anything. You know that, right? I promised you.” He gave Lance a quick kiss, and Lance sighed into it, wanting more. Chris was never more beautiful than when he was being protective and fierce. “No one hurts my family. Not ever again.”
“I know,” Lance said. “But you’ve got to stop thinking that Elvis is like... the answer to everything.”
“Hey.” Chris jabbed at Lance’s side. “I find your lack of faith disturbing. I may have to use the Force to smite you.”
“Oh, I’m trembling in my boots,” Lance said, deadpan. “However shall I protect myself from your Force-enhanced pokey finger?”
“I think you mean my ‘Force-Enhanced Pokey Finger of DOOM.’”
“Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me. I meant no disrespect to the Pokey Finger of Doom.”
“That’s good.” Chris poked him again. “Seriously, though. Elvis is magic. Take any incriminating situation, add Elvis, and what do you have?”
“A Las Vegas wedding?”
Chris laughed. “No. Well... you might get that, too. But the answer we were going for was ‘an obvious fake.’ It’s all Elvis and the Magic of Photoshop.”
“It’s a cute idea,” Lance said. “But my answer is still ‘no.’”
Chris shrugged. “Okay. You’ll be missing out on a good thing, but hey, I can live with that. My heart wasn’t set on it or anything. I’m pretty easy, you know. Not like, say, JC, who really does get his heart set on things because he’s just a weirdo who finds the strangest things deeply meaningful...”
“Oh, Jesus,” Lance said. “I hate you right now. You know that, right?”
Chris smiled. “Of course, you do, baby.”
“Someday you’re going to play the guilt card on me and it’s not gonna work anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris said. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.”
~
And that’s how JC got to be in charge of Christmas.
“I know how much the traditional things mean to you, Lance. I’m not going to ruin it for you.”
“I know you’re not, but--”
“Hush,” JC said, pulling Lance into his arms for a kiss. “Trust me, I’m not going to mess up Christmas for my Baby Daddy.”
“Oh, God,” Lance said. “I thought, when we got married, that you’d stop calling me that. It’s so... it sounds so tacky.”
“I like it.” JC kissed him, and happily nuzzled around Lance’s ear while his hands drifted lower to toy with Lance’s belt. “I love that you’re my husband, but it’s more fun and naughty to call you guys my ‘Baby Daddy’ and my ‘Secret!Bigamist Papi.’”
“Hey!” Chris said and threw a piece of banana at them, before turning back to Wii and the bowl of cereal he was slicing a banana into for her. “Ix-Nay on the Igamy-Bay. Little pitchers, big ears, all that.”
JC smiled and moved his hands back to more family-friendly territory. “Sorry,” he said. “At least Wii knows her daddies love each other?”
“Just ‘nanas, Poppa.” Wii pushed her bowl away. “No O’s. O’s are yucky.”
Chris pushed the bowl back into place. “That’s too bad. Bananas don’t want to be eaten without Cheerios.”
Lance chuckled and reached for his coffee that had been left on the counter. “You know, sometimes, I feel so old. And sometimes, I’d swear it was yesterday that Chris was having conversations like that with Justin.”
“That was totally different,” JC said.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “That was ‘Cheerios don’t want to be eaten without bananas.’”
“And chocolate milk,” JC said.
“That’s still so gross,” Lance said.
“Says Mr. Fried Peanut-Butter-and-Banana Sandwiches.”
“With honey and cinnamon,” Lance said. “Mmm.”
“See?” JC said. “That’s like what I’ve been saying.”
Lance and Chris both looked at him, and then at each other. “Did that make any sense to you?” Chris whispered.
“Nope, not a lick.”
JC frowned. “I don’t understand why we’re not all on the same page here. I’m not trying to ruin Christmas, I’m just trying to make it more inclusive... like to alien tastes.”
“You’ve already convinced us, ‘C. We don’t think you’re going to ruin it.”
“Good, because I don’t want anyone to think that Baby Jesus doesn’t love aliens, too.”
“Baby Cheeses,” Wii said with a happy note of recognition in her voice.
Lance was almost afraid to ask what JC had been telling her about Baby Jesus.
“Yes,” JC told her. “Just like our song, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, God,” Chris said. “I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.”
JC started humming, and Wii’s face just lit up. She was so in love with singing, which was really only natural, but she loved singing with her Daddy JC best. “Cheeses loves the little chillin’!” she half sang and half shouted.
“Oh, my God,” Lance said.
JC knelt down by her chair and sang the rest with her, because she hadn’t mastered all of it yet. She was still just a little girl, after all. “All the children in the world. Red and yellow, black and white, green and purple mixed up bright--”
Chris cracked up and started laughing so loudly that JC stopped singing to glare at him.
“Why,” JC snapped, “is that so funny? It’s true! Do you want--?”
“I’m sorry,” Chris gasped, still trying to rein in his laughter. “I’m sorry. It’s totally true. And green-and-purple children are my favorite, I swear.”
“Hmm.” JC didn’t stop glaring at him.
“I think Chris just laughed because it surprised him,” Lance said. “It’s... uh...”
“Yes,” Chris said. “I was just surprised. It’s a brilliant song, JC. If people knew about aliens, I’m sure everyone would sing it that way.”
“You think so?”
“Of course, I do,” Chris said. “Now get up off the floor. You know I hate to see a great lyricist like you mucking about on the floor.”
Lance snorted at that. Chris loved to see JC on the floor, just not when they weren’t in a ‘Special Parent Time’ safe place.
~
Lance had to admit that the house looked very pretty done up in Special JC Christmas style.
He loved the pine boughs entwined with long ropes of blue and white LED lights, the glass spheres each painted to look like a different planet, the velvety blue-and-silver quilt draped over the sofa, and the fiber-optics tree slowly shifting colors while dozens of beautiful lampwork glass newts and salamanders found shelter in its branches. He even liked the angel-winged octopus proudly perched at the top of the tree, though he wasn’t going to ever admit that.
He wasn’t, however, so thrilled with the vintage Star Wars action figures Nativity scene.
“That is just so wrong.”
“I like it,” Chris said. “I especially like how our mini marionettes got to be the shepherds and wise men. It’s realistic. Justin was born to be a shepherd.”
“My favorite part is all of the Yodas,” JC said. “It’s like the stable’s filled with a bunch of green billy goats.”
Chris nodded.
“You didn’t think,” Lance said, “that, oh, I don’t know, maybe the New Hope all-in-white Leia would have made a better Virgin Mary than sex-slave-bikinied Leia?”
JC blinked. “Um. No.”
“Are you crazy?” Chris said. “Bikini Leia is always best.”
Lance sighed. “Next year, I’m taking Bikini Leia away from you guys.”
“No!” Chris said. “How could you do that to little Baby Ewok Jesus? He needs all of his parents!”
“That’s true,” JC said. “And think of Han and Chewie, too. They’d be really sad, having to raise Baby Ewok Jesus in a broken pod.”
“Fine,” Lance said. “Fine, but we’re putting a little toga on her. I’m not going to have Wii growing up thinking that stripper poles are part of Christmas.”
“Oh,” JC said.
“Hmm,” Chris said. “That’s sort of... um...”
“Awkward,” JC said.
“What?” Lance asked, though he thought that he probably didn’t really want to know.
“I suppose... we could just take it down again...” JC said, sounding very reluctant.
“What!”
“We don’t have to take it down,” Chris said. “It’s in our ‘Special Parent Time’ room, so it’s not like Wii’s going to know.”
Lance blinked while his brain switched tracks. “You decorated ALL of our rooms for the holidays, ‘C?”
“I didn’t put in a stripper pole, honest.”
“He just put up another fiber-optic tree in our Special room.”
“It’s the colors,” JC said, gesturing to the tree.
Lance blinked again and looked at the tree. The tree just stood there innocently, slowly changing from one color to the next.
“I don’t get it,” Lance said.
“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “That’s because you can’t see yourself when we’re fucking.”
“Yeah,” JC sighed dreamily. “It looks so pretty, like you do when you start changing colors in your mating display.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, sounding almost as dreamy. “It really does start to get to you, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” JC slid his hands down his belly. “It gets me all freaky.”
“Oh, my God!” Lance said. “We are getting rid of this tree--“
“Aww,” Chris said.
“--tomorrow.”
“Ooo,” JC said. “That sounds promising.”
Lance grabbed JC’s belt and pulled him close. “Promise me, no orgy trees next year.”
“Mmm.”
Chris laughed as he began to help Lance with JC’s clothes. “Didn’t we sing about this? No one else but me’n’you’n’you. Nothing I would rather do, then hump you all through the night, under my tree.”
“Ah, yes,” Lance said. “I believe that was on JC’s ‘Mental Home for Christmas’ album.”
While JC dissolved into a fit of giggles, Lance and Chris started in on each other’s clothes.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, my secret-bigamist papi.”
“Hey!” Chris said. “Don’t you start that too!”
Lance laughed. “Okay, fine. Merry Cheese-mas, love.”
“That’s better. Now, come on, kiss me under our orgy tree.”
And Lance did.
Originally posted at http://llamabitchyo.dreamwidth.org/82083.html. Comment where you wish, yo.
Somethin’ about this Special Time of Year
Lance loved Christmas and all of its traditional trappings. The tree, the twinkling starry lights, the boughs of pine and holly, Nativity scenes, that flocking snow in a spray can: he loved it all. He didn’t care that his “traditional family Christmas” came straight from the Stewarts--both Martha “It’s a Good Thing” Stewart and Jimmy “It’s a Wonderful Life” Stewart--instead of the Basses. If he wanted to go all out decorating for the holidays--
“--then, dammit, I should be allowed to.”
“But,” JC said.
“Even if I am an alien!”
“I’m just sayin--” JC tried again.
“Whoa.” Chris yawned dramatically. “Is it that time already? I think I’m heading to bed.”
“What?” Lance said. “It’s like... It’s 2:48.”
“In the afternoon,” JC added, like that really needed clarification.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “That’s because I’m sick and TIRED of listening to this argument every year. You can have it without me.”
“It’s a discussion,” JC said.
“It’s you being pig-headed,” Lance told JC.
“I’m being open-minded!”
“I’m outta here, fuckers. Argue your hearts out. I’m gonna go get Wii and assure her that daddies still love each other, even when they’re being shitty and stupid.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Lance said as JC’s face crumpled. JC pushed past Chris and rushed out of the room, presumably heading to the playroom where their daughter was still playing Skype dollies with her cousins, oblivious to her fathers’ discussion.
Lance turned to Chris. “Someday, you’re going to play the guilt card on him and it won’t work anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris scoffed. “Never gonna happen. Baby Girl’s got him completely wrapped around her little finger... or, you know, tentacles... whatever.”
“Oh, my God,” Lance said. “I seriously hope we never go back to the tentacles stage.”
“I dunno... They were sort of cute, you know, in a ‘Holy Crap! The National Inquirer would pay us millions for our family photos’ sort of way. Especially if-- Oh, hey. I’ve got a great idea!”
“No.” It didn’t matter that Lance didn’t know what Chris was about to suggest. ‘No’ was obviously the only answer to it.
“Can Stacey shift into Elvis? We could do a family holiday photo. Oh, shit. It would be so great. Like... all of us lined up on the couch together and wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters that money can buy. You, me, JC, Elvis, and our little tentacle girl. Oh, my God. I wants it!” Chris was nearly vibrating with excitement over his latest ‘brilliant, evil-genius plan.’
“No,” Lance said.
“We could show it to everyone! I mean, I’d never endanger Wii, you know that--”
“Chris...”
“Hey,” Chris said, instantly turning dead serious. He tugged at Lance, pulling him into a hug. “I’d never endanger any of you. They’re never gonna find out that aliens are real or anything. You know that, right? I promised you.” He gave Lance a quick kiss, and Lance sighed into it, wanting more. Chris was never more beautiful than when he was being protective and fierce. “No one hurts my family. Not ever again.”
“I know,” Lance said. “But you’ve got to stop thinking that Elvis is like... the answer to everything.”
“Hey.” Chris jabbed at Lance’s side. “I find your lack of faith disturbing. I may have to use the Force to smite you.”
“Oh, I’m trembling in my boots,” Lance said, deadpan. “However shall I protect myself from your Force-enhanced pokey finger?”
“I think you mean my ‘Force-Enhanced Pokey Finger of DOOM.’”
“Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me. I meant no disrespect to the Pokey Finger of Doom.”
“That’s good.” Chris poked him again. “Seriously, though. Elvis is magic. Take any incriminating situation, add Elvis, and what do you have?”
“A Las Vegas wedding?”
Chris laughed. “No. Well... you might get that, too. But the answer we were going for was ‘an obvious fake.’ It’s all Elvis and the Magic of Photoshop.”
“It’s a cute idea,” Lance said. “But my answer is still ‘no.’”
Chris shrugged. “Okay. You’ll be missing out on a good thing, but hey, I can live with that. My heart wasn’t set on it or anything. I’m pretty easy, you know. Not like, say, JC, who really does get his heart set on things because he’s just a weirdo who finds the strangest things deeply meaningful...”
“Oh, Jesus,” Lance said. “I hate you right now. You know that, right?”
Chris smiled. “Of course, you do, baby.”
“Someday you’re going to play the guilt card on me and it’s not gonna work anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” Chris said. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.”
~
And that’s how JC got to be in charge of Christmas.
“I know how much the traditional things mean to you, Lance. I’m not going to ruin it for you.”
“I know you’re not, but--”
“Hush,” JC said, pulling Lance into his arms for a kiss. “Trust me, I’m not going to mess up Christmas for my Baby Daddy.”
“Oh, God,” Lance said. “I thought, when we got married, that you’d stop calling me that. It’s so... it sounds so tacky.”
“I like it.” JC kissed him, and happily nuzzled around Lance’s ear while his hands drifted lower to toy with Lance’s belt. “I love that you’re my husband, but it’s more fun and naughty to call you guys my ‘Baby Daddy’ and my ‘Secret!Bigamist Papi.’”
“Hey!” Chris said and threw a piece of banana at them, before turning back to Wii and the bowl of cereal he was slicing a banana into for her. “Ix-Nay on the Igamy-Bay. Little pitchers, big ears, all that.”
JC smiled and moved his hands back to more family-friendly territory. “Sorry,” he said. “At least Wii knows her daddies love each other?”
“Just ‘nanas, Poppa.” Wii pushed her bowl away. “No O’s. O’s are yucky.”
Chris pushed the bowl back into place. “That’s too bad. Bananas don’t want to be eaten without Cheerios.”
Lance chuckled and reached for his coffee that had been left on the counter. “You know, sometimes, I feel so old. And sometimes, I’d swear it was yesterday that Chris was having conversations like that with Justin.”
“That was totally different,” JC said.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “That was ‘Cheerios don’t want to be eaten without bananas.’”
“And chocolate milk,” JC said.
“That’s still so gross,” Lance said.
“Says Mr. Fried Peanut-Butter-and-Banana Sandwiches.”
“With honey and cinnamon,” Lance said. “Mmm.”
“See?” JC said. “That’s like what I’ve been saying.”
Lance and Chris both looked at him, and then at each other. “Did that make any sense to you?” Chris whispered.
“Nope, not a lick.”
JC frowned. “I don’t understand why we’re not all on the same page here. I’m not trying to ruin Christmas, I’m just trying to make it more inclusive... like to alien tastes.”
“You’ve already convinced us, ‘C. We don’t think you’re going to ruin it.”
“Good, because I don’t want anyone to think that Baby Jesus doesn’t love aliens, too.”
“Baby Cheeses,” Wii said with a happy note of recognition in her voice.
Lance was almost afraid to ask what JC had been telling her about Baby Jesus.
“Yes,” JC told her. “Just like our song, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, God,” Chris said. “I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.”
JC started humming, and Wii’s face just lit up. She was so in love with singing, which was really only natural, but she loved singing with her Daddy JC best. “Cheeses loves the little chillin’!” she half sang and half shouted.
“Oh, my God,” Lance said.
JC knelt down by her chair and sang the rest with her, because she hadn’t mastered all of it yet. She was still just a little girl, after all. “All the children in the world. Red and yellow, black and white, green and purple mixed up bright--”
Chris cracked up and started laughing so loudly that JC stopped singing to glare at him.
“Why,” JC snapped, “is that so funny? It’s true! Do you want--?”
“I’m sorry,” Chris gasped, still trying to rein in his laughter. “I’m sorry. It’s totally true. And green-and-purple children are my favorite, I swear.”
“Hmm.” JC didn’t stop glaring at him.
“I think Chris just laughed because it surprised him,” Lance said. “It’s... uh...”
“Yes,” Chris said. “I was just surprised. It’s a brilliant song, JC. If people knew about aliens, I’m sure everyone would sing it that way.”
“You think so?”
“Of course, I do,” Chris said. “Now get up off the floor. You know I hate to see a great lyricist like you mucking about on the floor.”
Lance snorted at that. Chris loved to see JC on the floor, just not when they weren’t in a ‘Special Parent Time’ safe place.
~
Lance had to admit that the house looked very pretty done up in Special JC Christmas style.
He loved the pine boughs entwined with long ropes of blue and white LED lights, the glass spheres each painted to look like a different planet, the velvety blue-and-silver quilt draped over the sofa, and the fiber-optics tree slowly shifting colors while dozens of beautiful lampwork glass newts and salamanders found shelter in its branches. He even liked the angel-winged octopus proudly perched at the top of the tree, though he wasn’t going to ever admit that.
He wasn’t, however, so thrilled with the vintage Star Wars action figures Nativity scene.
“That is just so wrong.”
“I like it,” Chris said. “I especially like how our mini marionettes got to be the shepherds and wise men. It’s realistic. Justin was born to be a shepherd.”
“My favorite part is all of the Yodas,” JC said. “It’s like the stable’s filled with a bunch of green billy goats.”
Chris nodded.
“You didn’t think,” Lance said, “that, oh, I don’t know, maybe the New Hope all-in-white Leia would have made a better Virgin Mary than sex-slave-bikinied Leia?”
JC blinked. “Um. No.”
“Are you crazy?” Chris said. “Bikini Leia is always best.”
Lance sighed. “Next year, I’m taking Bikini Leia away from you guys.”
“No!” Chris said. “How could you do that to little Baby Ewok Jesus? He needs all of his parents!”
“That’s true,” JC said. “And think of Han and Chewie, too. They’d be really sad, having to raise Baby Ewok Jesus in a broken pod.”
“Fine,” Lance said. “Fine, but we’re putting a little toga on her. I’m not going to have Wii growing up thinking that stripper poles are part of Christmas.”
“Oh,” JC said.
“Hmm,” Chris said. “That’s sort of... um...”
“Awkward,” JC said.
“What?” Lance asked, though he thought that he probably didn’t really want to know.
“I suppose... we could just take it down again...” JC said, sounding very reluctant.
“What!”
“We don’t have to take it down,” Chris said. “It’s in our ‘Special Parent Time’ room, so it’s not like Wii’s going to know.”
Lance blinked while his brain switched tracks. “You decorated ALL of our rooms for the holidays, ‘C?”
“I didn’t put in a stripper pole, honest.”
“He just put up another fiber-optic tree in our Special room.”
“It’s the colors,” JC said, gesturing to the tree.
Lance blinked again and looked at the tree. The tree just stood there innocently, slowly changing from one color to the next.
“I don’t get it,” Lance said.
“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “That’s because you can’t see yourself when we’re fucking.”
“Yeah,” JC sighed dreamily. “It looks so pretty, like you do when you start changing colors in your mating display.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, sounding almost as dreamy. “It really does start to get to you, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” JC slid his hands down his belly. “It gets me all freaky.”
“Oh, my God!” Lance said. “We are getting rid of this tree--“
“Aww,” Chris said.
“--tomorrow.”
“Ooo,” JC said. “That sounds promising.”
Lance grabbed JC’s belt and pulled him close. “Promise me, no orgy trees next year.”
“Mmm.”
Chris laughed as he began to help Lance with JC’s clothes. “Didn’t we sing about this? No one else but me’n’you’n’you. Nothing I would rather do, then hump you all through the night, under my tree.”
“Ah, yes,” Lance said. “I believe that was on JC’s ‘Mental Home for Christmas’ album.”
While JC dissolved into a fit of giggles, Lance and Chris started in on each other’s clothes.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, my secret-bigamist papi.”
“Hey!” Chris said. “Don’t you start that too!”
Lance laughed. “Okay, fine. Merry Cheese-mas, love.”
“That’s better. Now, come on, kiss me under our orgy tree.”
And Lance did.
Originally posted at http://llamabitchyo.dreamwidth.org/82083.html. Comment where you wish, yo.