Fic: A Family Christmas

[aingeal8c]

Title: A Family Christmas
Author: Aingeal
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: G
Summary: Ray goes through the experience of a real family Christmas.
Notes: This be kidfic. This is a sequel, or sorts to my fic Fraser’s Secret but it stands on it's own (fortunately). Thanks to leda_speaks for beta-ing duties which really helped pull this fic together.

A Family Christmas

Christmas in the Fraser-Vecchio household had been a rather manic affair the last few years. With two small children there was always something to do. This year, there were three small children and Ray in particular was finding that it that was throwing up all kinds of different challenges and adding even more to the natural state of organised chaos that was always present in their home.

Firstly, there was the trip to see Santa at the local department store. It had seemed a good idea at the time. After-all, Milly and Mikey were three now and old enough to start to enjoy the mythos (as Fraser had put it) of Christmas as it related to Santa, his elves and a bunch of reindeer. Of course, perhaps it was too good an idea judging from what happened, at least that was Ray's feeling.

As soon as they got in the store their youngest, Libby, insisted on screaming and didn't seem to want to stop. At six months old she was teething and wasn’t sleeping well (though she was getting more than enough, Fraser said) which made her grumpy. Ray was sure she was worse than the twins had been and there were two of them.

"Come on, Libby, it's not that bad," Ray groaned.

Fraser was holding their daughter and was doing his best to keep her quiet. "Shhhh, I know it hurts, shhhh." He turned to Ray. "I think it might be an idea if I took her out. We seem to be attracting a lot of attention.”

Sure enough the shoppers were staring at them with ‘can’t you shut that baby up’ looks. Christmas shoppers weren’t familiar with the idea of goodwill to teething babies who were crying.

Ray kissed Libby’s cheek. "Okay, you take her out and I'll stay with the twins. Be good," he told Libby, though she couldn't help it, not really.

Fraser blushed as he apologised to the shoppers as he made his way outside, carrying Libby and talking to her reassuringly.

Ray watched him leave and looked down at his eldest two children. He held Milly's hand in his right and Mikey's in his left. "Okay, kids, it’s just us three, let's go see Santa." Ray had tried to sound confident, though in reality he was anything but.

Ray loved his kids but handling two lively three year olds in a busy department store would have tested anyone’s patience. As they got into the long line to see Santa Ray had trouble keeping Mikey occupied. He kept wanting to run off and play in the fake snow. Ray was sure it was an inbred Canadian reaction to snow and blamed his husband’s genes.

"Mikey, no!" he shouted, and tightened his hold on his son's hand as he made a dash to get under the velvet rope.

"Don't move," he told Milly, as he let go of her hand.

He fished in his pocket and brought out the reins he'd brought along, just in case. He attached one end to Mikey's wrist and then put the other end around his. He wrapped them firmly. He was pleased to note Mikey was unable to reach the rope now he was restrained. He took Milly's hand again and they managed to shuffle along in line quite respectably.

Milly was suspiciously quiet in line which should have tipped Ray off. He’d missed the look in her eyes as she’d watched everything going on. Even when she’d started asking questions Ray had still had no idea.

Of course, part of the trouble was his kids were bi-bi-lingual and tended to mix up their languages. Thanks to Fraser’s influence they spoke English, Italian (well, maybe that was Ray’s influence but he’d done it at the behest of Fraser), French (thanks to some cheap language tapes Fraser had bought and the fact it was the other official language of Canada) and one of the Inuit languages, Ray remembered it was Tshim tshim (they’d had Inuit stories in the original language. Ray thought they were just as boring).

Problem was, those four languages weren’t really designed to be mixed and matched and it often took Ray several minutes to work out if his kids wanted a cookie or a drink. Not to mention when the occasional Cantonese or Mandarin word came out of their mouths. Ray still wasn’t sure how learning Chinese as well was going to benefit his kids, apart from ordering in a restaurant.

It also meant they had gotten some odd looks in line as Milly had asked about the decorated Christmas trees in her four languages and Mikey had reached for tinsel.

"Yes, Milly, there are icicles on those trees."

"No, Mikey, you don't want that tinsel, we've got tinsel at home you can have."

Ray was wondering if it wouldn't have been easier to be with Libby, even though there was no doubt she’d be screaming loud enough to split eardrums. He yanked his son back from the rope again and admitted to his daughter he had no idea why baubles were called that.

Luckily they were finally at the front of the line and were ushered inside Santa’s grotto. Mikey immediately went to grab the fake snow and it was only Ray's quick reactions that enabled him to not have to deal with a cotton wool covered three year old. Once his distraction was gone Mikey looked at Santa. Santa smiled at him and Mikey promptly burst into tears. Ray wasn’t entirely sure why his son was so upset by the sight of Santa; he was used to seeing guys in red suits, after-all.

"Mikey, it’s okay," Ray said, letting go of Milly's hand and hugging his son. "He's not going to hurt you."

Santa came closer to try and cheer Mikey up, but the closer Santa got and the more he said the more upset Mikey had got. Ray picked his son up now and hugged him. But the comfort wasn’t working, Mikey was still crying. Just then one of the elves came and she happened to have tinsel on her hat. Before Ray could stop him Mikey grabbed it, annoying the elf but once he had the tinsel he went quiet, fascinated by the shiny stuff in his hand. The elf muttered grudgingly and walked off.

Whilst Mikey was happily playing with his tinsel (and repeating the word tinsel over and over to impress his Papa), Ray decided that at least Milly would be well-behaved enough to sit on Santa’s knee. Gently, he helped her up, still holding Mikey tightly. She sat there smiling and it was that smile that finally tipped Ray off as to what was going on in his daughter’s mind but it was too late.

"So, what do you want for Christmas little girl?" Santa asked.

With a distinct glint in her eye Milly replied, "Desidero pour voir che Santa vraiment regards like."

Which Ray worked out meant she wanted to know what Santa really looked like. Ray looked on as Milly pulled at Santa's obviously fake beard. Ray blamed the sense of curiosity Milly had inherited from her Mountie father.

"Milly! Let go!" Ray said, firmly.

Milly looked at her Papa and obeyed, but, having an elastic attachment, the beard snapped back against Santa’s face. He yelled and stood up, rubbing his face. At that point, Mikey caught sight of more tinsel on one of the Christmas trees in the grotto. He was just within reach, something Ray hadn't noticed. He grabbed the tinsel but in doing so pulled over the tree. This created a chain reaction as the tree fell over and hit Santa who then fell onto an elf who fell against the flimsy walls that made up the grotto. Ray closed his eyes.

When he opened them he found himself clutching his tinsel mad son (who had now got a large amount of tinsel around himself) with his daughter hugging his leg. There was nothing left of the elaborate Christmas display which was in ruins all around them like something out of an apocalyptic Hollywood movie.

Ray caught sight of a very disgruntled Santa yelling in a language that didn’t appear to be English, French, Italian or Inuit. Ray pulled out his wallet, dumped several hundred dollar bills (luckily he had gone to the bank beforehand) in Santa's lap and ran out of the store before anyone was any the wiser, pulling Milly along and carrying Mikey and his ill gotten tinsel gains.

It was a rather stressed Ray made it back to the car. The sight of the station wagon reminded him he was officially a father. At least the Riv was safe in the garage at home.

He carefully opened the door expecting to hear Libby screaming her head off, but all was quiet. Fraser smiled at him, but Ray just frowned his best ‘Not now, Benny’ frown.

Once the twins had been carefully ensconced in the backseat with their now remarkably quiet sister and a wolf whose breath smelt suspiciously like candy Ray felt he could finally relax as they drove home.

“Has Libby been okay?” he asked.

“Yes. As soon as I put her in her car seat she seemed to settle,” Fraser replied. “Diefenbaker seemed happy to see her.”

“You mean she hasn't been screaming her head off?” Ray couldn't believed it.

“No.”

“She’s been asleep this entire time?”

“Yes, Ray.”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“How was your visit to Santa?” Fraser asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Ray muttered in reply.

“Ray?”

“Your daughter outed Santa in front of the whole store and your son destroyed the entire Christmas village.”

“Surely, you're exaggerating, Ray,” Fraser said. Ray was pleased to note there was a hint of resignation in his voice.

Fraser turned to their cherubs in the backseat.

“Sguardo Daddy, j'ai obtenu Tinsel!” Mikey said, as he waved the shiny stuff about.

“That’s erm…very nice, Michael,” Fraser replied, blushing.

Ray just gave his husband a ‘see I told you’ look.

“Il n'était pas il reale Santa,” Milly piped up.

“Well, the real one is probably busy,” Fraser replied. “Don’t you think, Ray?”

“Oh yeah,” Ray agreed.

“What about his elves?”

“Busy making shoes,” Ray said.

This interested Mikey. “Shoes? Santa’s portare shoes?”

Ray sighed.

“A lot of children like shoes,” Fraser tried to explain. “I know I had shoes for gifts when I was your age. Didn’t you, Ray?”

“Oh yeah, I had shoes. But you know you’re not getting shoes so…see, Santa’s elves are so busy making shoes for other kids that we have to buy your presents and send them to Santa.”

“Santa les vies in Canada,” Milly said smiling.

Fraser tried to correct her. “Technically, Emilia, Santa lives at the north pole and the north pole is…”

“Benny, she’s three, humour her and save the geography lessons for later.”

“Perhaps I should invest in an atlas for her gift next year.”

“Benny, the rule is no atlases until they go to school.”

“I didn’t know we had that rule.”

“Well, I just invented it.”

“Ah.” Fraser paused. “Yes, Emilia, Santa lives in Canada.”

“Possiamo allez visit him?”

“Erm…well…” Fraser coughed as he struggled for an explanation.

“It’s a long way and Santa doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Ray said, stepping in. “And you don’t want to upset him, right?”

“No. Possiamo voyez Rudolph?”

“We might see some caribou when we visit Canada in the new year,” Fraser offered.

“They’re reindeer,” Ray hissed.

“Not in North America, Ray. Reindeer are a European subspecies.”

“Like a three year old can tell the difference.”

“Good point,” Fraser paused. “But they won’t have red noses.”

“Not all Santa’s reindeer have red noses.”

“Rudolph does.”

“So, we tell them it’s one of Rudolph’s friends.”

“Oh. That’s a good plan, Ray.”

“Three years and you’re still learning how to handle kids.”

“Each year brings a new challenge and unlike you, Ray, I didn’t have much experience with raising children.”

"I didn't have experience with raising children," Ray said.

“You have nieces and nephews who look up to you.”

“They look up to my wallet. Besides having kids of our own, it’s different.”

Whatever tender moment they would have had was interrupted by their eldest daughter asking when they would see reindeer, before Mikey’s enthusiastic tinsel waving woke up Libby, who proceeded to prove that her earlier outburst had just been a warm-up.

Later that day, in the afternoon, Libby was napping when, at the behest of the twins, it was decreed time to decorate the tree and crib. The tree had been specially selected by Fraser to some sort of weird Canadian specification that had involved tasting the tree sap. Of course, both Milly and Mikey had had to taste the tree sap too. Once more Ray blamed their strange obsession with tasting things on Fraser’s genes. He was sure he’d never licked tree sap as a kid (sure, sugar treats but never tree sap, even if they apparently tasted similar).

Once Fraser had decided it was the right one they’d hauled it home. This was no easy task as they’d had to lash it to the roof of the car. Fortunately Fraser, ever prepared, had brought along three balls of twine. One ball had ended up around the twins, the other Diefenbaker had chewed but there had been enough left to tie the tree safely to the roof before they drove home.

Ray left Fraser in charge of tree decorating with the twins whilst he prepared Libby’s dinner. Dief had also retreated to the kitchen. Fraser had some sort of aversion to bought baby food which meant all Libby’s meals (as all the twins' meals had been) were prepared by hand. Food was cooked, pureed and frozen in ice cube trays so precise portions could be taken out later, and heated up. It was a lot of trouble to go to, but Ray had to admit it seemed to do the kids good. And being in the kitchen meant he was been out of the way of his son who was heavily armed with tinsel and his daughter who was still confused as to the difference between fairies and angels.

Ray heard the conversation going on in the living room, or at least Fraser’s replies. .

“No, Emilia, fairies are different to Angels.”

“Well, Angels aren’t exactly magical. No.”

“Michael, I don’t think that tinsel belongs in the crib.”

“Well, yes, it does make it look pretty but I don’t think it really fits in.”

“No, Emilia there weren’t reindeer in the stable.”

“No, they didn’t go to see Jesus.”

“No, Santa didn’t either. Or the elves.”

“Yes, they probably were making shoes.”

Ray smiled. He’d had to field their questions about where God lived, and where their cousin’s cat had gone to after it had been hit by a car, so it was only fair Fraser got some tough ones, too. Although even Ray was getting confused as to what the difference between angels and fairies was. He was still sure that Jesus hadn’t been visited by 3 magicians but Fraser kept mentioning the word magi…

When the noise died down Ray went to look at the results of his family’s labour. He was pleasantly surprised to note that the tree could be seen underneath the tinsel. He also thought that the crib was a perfect mix of cultures. There was a large strand of tinsel across the whole thing with a smaller strand over Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. The three wise magicians were each accompanied by a sheep (and Ray noted he couldn’t see the join where he’d had to glue on one of the wise magicians heads after a mishap the previous year). There were also three model reindeer paying the stable a visit, two angels that looked like fairies (Ray noted Barbie was one of them) and a few pigs with the shepherds at the back.

Ray was so impressed he congratulated his kids on a job well done.

"Come here," he said, and gave Mikey and Milly a hug together. "You did a great job," Ray said, giving each of them a kiss. He let them go and stood up.

Fraser was smiling next to him. Ray gave him a hug and a gentle kiss on the lips. He ended up smiling too.

"Okay, kids, who wants one of Nonna's Christmas cookies?" Ray asked.

"ME!" they cried in unison and dashed to the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Ray had left the box out on the table. Dief was sitting next to it looking very satisfied indeed. Ray checked and fortunately there were two left, which was good because the twins hated to share cookies. He handed them one each and tried to distract Fraser from the crumbs they were spreading about.

Later on, getting the twins to bed was a struggle and a half. Mikey was only pacified by having his bear decorated with tinsel (Ray wondered if his son wasn’t part magpie the way he was attracted to shiny things) and it took a good half hour to get Milly to stop playing ‘angel fairies’ and waving the tip of a narwhal tusk (Benny had given it Ray as an anniversary present a couple of year earlier) about as she’d said it was her ‘angel wand’.

Fraser volunteered for bed duties and Ray didn’t argue. Libby seemed to have calmed a little and once she had her evening feed settled perfectly well. Ray was sure she’d wake up at 3AM but her gums did seem a lot less red. When Ray had asked why Fraser explained he had used a special soothing balm made from some sort of crushed plant. Ray didn’t argue, if it kept his baby daughter happy it was fine by him. Just as long as Fraser didn’t use pig entrails next time Ray had a cold.

Once Fraser had gone upstairs with the twins, Ray finished off wrapping the presents. Most of it had already been done whilst the twins at been at his mothers playing with their cousins. Despite being some of the youngest children in the Vecchio clan Milly and Mikey more than held their own in games, probably as they worked as a team. At home they would fight and argue but put in a larger family situation they stuck together like glue. Ray worried about what would happen to Libby once she got a bit bigger, she wouldn’t stand a chance either. Ray found himself pondering more children already. He shook his head, maybe in a few more years when his eldest two had grown out of mass destruction and Libby could speak English. Still, the thought was appealing.

Ray relied on Fraser to keep the twins occupied upstairs whilst he arranged the gifts under the tree. He knew his husband would rearrange them to make the effort of unwrapping gifts more efficient but it was fun to see how right Ray could get it before the reorganisation. With that done Ray collapsed on the couch with relief and waited for Fraser to appear. It was Christmas eve, the tree had been decorated, all the presents wrapped and tomorrow he, Fraser and their kids would be at the Vecchio home (as opposed to the Fraser-Vecchio home), being fed by Ray's mother. Ray was glad he didn’t have to cook Christmas dinner; he’d had enough stress this year already.

Fraser came back into the living room and sat on the couch. Ray immediately hugged him and gave him a kiss. Such intimate moments often had to wait until the kids had gone to bed. Sharing a French kiss with his husband was perfectly natural but Ray didn’t want to gross his kids out. The waiting just made it more fun anyway.

“They asleep?” Ray asked, when the kiss was over.

Fraser nodded. “It took sometime before they finally closed their eyes but they soon fell asleep.”

“Did you tell them an Inuit story?” Ray asked, jokingly.

“Yes, actually, it was about a man who went fishing…”

“And he cast his line in the ice hole and left it but he got impatient and pulled it up too soon and there were no fish so he had to start again.”

“Yes, Ray. How did you know?”

“You told me that one on our first Christmas eve together,” Ray explained, smiling.

“I did?”

“Yeah, when I was telling you about how Ma used to tell us if we didn’t get to sleep Santa wouldn’t come. And she’d tell us to not set any alarms to really early in the morning because Santa would time it so he came just before we woke up.”

“I remember that story, Ray. It’s good advice.”

“Yeah, we can tell our kids when they’re older, save them from the same Inuit story every year.”

“You know, I do have a number of stories that can be adapted to a Christmas setting.”

There was a moment’s pause before Fraser started giggling.

“Benny!”

“There is one story I would like to tell you, Ray,” Fraser said.

“Mmmm?” Ray asked, getting closer to Fraser to initiate a kiss. “What’s it about?”

“About a Mountie who got exactly what he wanted on Christmas.”

“And was there a cop?”

“Oh yes, and I hope he got what he wanted too.”

“Oh, he did.”

They had barely begun their kiss when they heard their daughter Libby crying upstairs. Ray sighed as they parted and Fraser got up. “You stay, Ray, I’ll go.”

“Okay,” Ray agreed. “But I’ll go next time she wakes up.”

Fraser nodded. “Yes, Ray. I suspect she needs her diaper changing, she had a clean one when we changed her into her nightclothes.”

“Okay, you need any help, just make a moose call.”

Fraser smiled. “I’ll remember that, Ray.”

Fraser made his way upstairs to deal with their youngest child. Now sitting alone, Ray found himself admiring the well decorated tree and crib. He smiled. Sure, it was hard to juggle children, a family and all that Christmas entailed but Ray had to admit he wouldn’t change a thing.

He was married to a wonderful caring guy (who looked good in a uniform, always a bonus), he had a loving mother and sisters (well, loving was perhaps the wrong word to describe Francesca’s feelings, at least when he’d told her about him and Benny) and nieces, nephews, a whole extended family. He had good friends (who were fine with the whole Vecchio is gay thing, even Angie had been okay with it) but most of all, he and the man he loved had three wonderful kids (even if they were hard work and drove him up the wall sometimes). Smiling, Ray went upstairs to check on Fraser and help wrangle the diaper changing. Family at Christmas - you couldn’t really beat it.