Gift Fic: A Howlett Family Christmas (Marvel, Mutant Sue, PG)
Authors Note: This is a 2011 Holiday Fic Exchange gift fic for my lovely partner-in-crime, ladydeathfaerie. Shockingly enough, I’m posting this fic on time. Christmas miracles do happen. This fic is set during the Christmas Holidays of year 15 of the Mutant Sue Virus continuity. I hope this fic hits all the right notes for you, hon. Merry Christmas!
This is the prompt she gave me:
Fandom: X-Men, specifically the Mutant Sue Virus version.
Pairing: Dare and Logan. and the entire Howlett Clan.
Prompt: Dare and Logan decide to take the kids someplace for a family Christmas away from the school. naturally, insanity ensues. bonus points for including any of the following: snowball fights and snow angels. chestnuts roasting on an open fire. off key Christmas carols. Dare making Christmas dinner.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The recognizable characters herein and the world they live in are the property of Marvel Comics. The Mutant Sues and their offspring are the property of their originators. In this case, that means Dare (Ladydeathfaerie) and Morgan (myself). The concept of the Mary Sue Virus is, as always, the property of dazzledfirestar. I would rate this fic at about a PG, possibly a PG-13. We make no money from this work.
A Howlett Family Christmas.
“God do I need a vacation.” Dare muttered as she sidestepped a stampede of snowball-wielding warriors. The horde was a mixed bag of Morgan’s brood and her own. She’d be damned if she could figure out the alliances. They seemed to change with each new volley of frozen missiles.
“And we’re gonna get that vacation darlin’.” Logan gave her a toothy grin as he hefted a suitcase the size of a mid-size sedan into the back of the even bigger black SUV. “I think that’s the last one.”
“How much of a vacation can it be when we’re taking half the Mongolian Horde with us?” She grimaced and peered into the vehicle, taking a quick mental inventory. Was that everything?
He snorted in response. “Be a vacation away from this place, at least.” He stepped to the side casually, allowing a ball of white powder to miss his shoulder and explode against one darkly tinted window. He turned to glare at the gangly brown-haired boy who stood grinning at him, green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Sorry Onc-Logan.” The boy chimed.
“No you ain’t.” Logan mock-snarled. “But yer gonna be.”
Dare doubted Tam heard that last. She laughed as Morgan’s eldest was bowled over by a gang of howling girls led by Deirdre, her own eldest. The twelve-year-old’s cheeks were pink with the cold. A mane of tawny hair spilled in a thick mass from beneath her stocking cap.
“Looks like girls against boys.” Dare shook her head as the battle rolled away toward the second SUV where Morgan was fussing over the way Remy stacked their suitcases. Something about not crushing presents, she thought.
“They’d better get moving. They got a hell of a lot further ta go than we do.” Logan took another glance at the vehicle’s contents. “That it?”
“All except for the Howling Howletts.” Dare sighed.
“Then I’ll go help Gumbo while you round up the kids.”
“Coward.”
“Or you can go try telling Morgan her Pop ain’t gonna try and spring a shotgun wedding on ‘em.” Morgan had been a nervous wreck for the last week. This was only the second time her father had summoned Morgan and the whole family home. The first hadn’t gone so well.
“Better you than me.” She agreed and started trying to separate her own offspring from the general melee. “All right, if your last name is Howlett you’d better be in the car in the next two minutes or I’ll be roasting more than just chestnuts this Christmas.”
Five minutes later she was just finishing buckling in the last of her brood. The children had gone from trying to rub each other’s faces into the snow-covered gravel to melodramatic good-byes. You’d think they were going to be gone a year instead of a week. Dare tried not to roll her eyes at them.
“Now go on ya little beasts.” Logan mock-snarled at the crowd around the car. “We’ll only be gone the week. Go on, I hear yer Ma calling you.”
“Bye, Onc-Logan! Bye Tante Dare!” The children called as their parents arrived to pull them away. Logan was already behind the wheel. The vehicle purred to life at his touch while Dare climbed into her own seat. She caught waves from the other couple before turning to look over her shoulder. A quick glanced reassured her that no one had unbuckled anything. The twins were at that age where they thought it a clever trick.
“Everybody set?” Logan asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t have ta tell me twice.”
The SUV began to move, tires crunching softly through the snow and gravel toward the gate. The gates swung open for them at the touch of a button on the dash. Dare thought it a nice upgrade since it meant no one had to get out in the cold or even roll down the window.
“So where is this place, anyway?” Dare sighed and wriggled deeper in the seat, wishing there was enough room to put her boots up on the dash like she used to. But with five kids and a week’s worth of luggage stuffed in the back, she was lucky her knees didn’t touch the glove box.
“Be about an hour and a half. Mebbe two depending on conditions.”
“And potty breaks.”
“Yeah. And potty breaks.” He agreed, glancing in the mirror with a self-satisfied smirk. Then he winced as a shriek of outrage came from behind them.
“Ow!”
“Girls, we did not bring those crayons so you could shish-kebob your brother.” He scolded. Dare craned her neck around to see her two youngest wearing exaggerated expressions of innocence while their brother tried to rub both shoulders at the same time.
“So much for splitting them up.” Dare shook her head.
“It’s not fair! I’m gonna be the only boy for the whole week.” Liam wore a comically accurate copy of his father’s scowl.
“I was a boy last time I checked.” Logan snorted.
“You’re not a boy.” Liam cried in exasperation. “You’re a dad!”
“Your Da is most certainly a boy.” Dare affirmed and shot an amused look at Logan.
“We could try fer another boy, mebbe even things up.” Logan winked at her. “So many girls, reckon that’s why the boy’s confused.”
“I think it’s time we had a little music.” Dare ignored him and reached for the radio. She flipped through the channels until she found a station playing Christmas carols. She was just in time to hear the last few bars of “Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer.”
When the next song began, she tossed a malicious smirk at the man beside her. “All right poppets, it’s time to sing! One, two, three -- Logan got ran over by a reindeer…” She sang loudly off-key, nearly shouting Logan’s name to drown out the real lyrics. The children followed her lead gleefully, once again proving themselves aptly named ‘The Howling Howletts.’
Logan flinched visibly, but he waited until the song was over before reaching out to turn down the volume. “You are an evil woman.” He spoke softly just for her ears.
“And don’t you forget it.” She replied and began humming along quietly with ‘White Christmas.’
All in all, they made pretty good time. The weather was clear and cold, the snow a brilliant white blanket spread over the world. Or at least this section of it, Dare thought. They made only one pit stop and that went relatively smoothly, thanks to the combined promise of sweets and threats of coal-filled stockings. But it was enough to remind Dare just why they made so few family road trips. She shuddered to think of making the same drive Morgan and Remy had before them with their brood. Morgan’s parents now lived somewhere in Virginia, settling within a few hours drive of their son Jordan and his family. She felt a small twinge of regret that she would miss the chance to see him again after so many years.
“Mumma! Mumma!” Jessalyn called anxiously across the middle row of seats as Dare bent over Cam’s dark head to make sure the car seat’s harness was buckled securely.
“What poppet?” She asked absently.
“Did you send Santa a note?”
“What?” Dare glanced at her daughter’s so-earnest face. “What note?”
“So he can find us. If you don’t send him a note, how will he know where to leave the presents?”
“The same way he knows when you’ve been naughty.” Dare answered her.
“How does he know that? McKenna piped up, leaning around Liam to look at her mother.
“Magic.” Logan answered and closed the door on Ken’s side. That left the entire car full of youngsters looking to her for confirmation.
“You heard your Da.” Dare gave Cam’s hair an affectionate ruffle. She didn’t miss the way Dee’s eyes rolled. Apparently believing in Santa Claus was on the list of things her oldest daughter thought herself too big for. Dare fixed the girl with a warning glare before closing the passenger side door and returning to her own seat.
“Magic?” She hissed at Logan under the cover of the door closing.
“Every kid needs a little magic now and then, sweetheart.” The car rumbled to life and they were off again.
~
“How come he gets his own room?” Deirdre was indignant at having to bunk with Jess. The twins would also share a room. And Liam got the last to himself, though it was the smallest of the bedrooms.
“Because he’s the only boy.” Logan clapped his son on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “Now go help yer Ma with the twins while I get the luggage in.”
“What can I do?” Liam asked, for the moment full of eagerness to be just like his father.
“You can help me with the smaller stuff. C’mon buddy.”
“Mum!” Dee appealed to Dare for help, certain that there was some slight to her tween-aged dignity here.
“Go make up the beds and start unpacking.”
The cabin was a cabin in name only. With four bedrooms and a two full baths, it was larger than the last house Dare had shared with her parents. It had all the bells and whistles, with stone fireplaces in the living room and master bedroom, satellite TV and a beautiful mountain view from the large picture window to the left of the enormous Christmas tree. The tree was a real one, filling the air with woodsy scents. But it was still bare.
“Mumma, why is the tree all naked?” It was Cameron hugging one of those half-pillow, half-stuffed animal things that had been all the rage last Christmas. All the kids had gotten them. Even Dee.
“Because we haven’t decorated it yet, silly.” Dee answered, not stopping as she breezed through the room with an armful of blankets, her own tiger-cum-pillow perched on top.
“Is it really just ours?” McKenna stopped beside her twin, her eyes round and large as she stared up at the tree.
“Yes Poppets. It’s all ours. And we’ll decorate it tonight after dinner.” Dare gave each twin a gentle shove towards their bedroom. “Now let’s go make those bunk beds up.”
“I get the top!” The girls shouted, almost in unison. Dare chuckled.
While she went through the motions of settling her brood in, Dare thought. Had they never had a tree of their own? As a family? Maybe not. Or at least not as long as her youngest had been around. Living at the Institute they hadn’t exactly had a traditional sort of family life. There were always trees and celebrations, dozens of other children to celebrate with, even during the holidays. But…
No. The twins had never known this kind of private family celebration. There’d been some holidays shared with Morgan and Remy, sometimes with the other members of her team or Logan’s. They all had their own families now.
“But this one will be ours, just ours.” She said to herself before wading into the holiday preparations with a will. There was a large box of decorations: lights, tinsel, and shiny glass balls that would likely shatter the moment one of the children bumped the tree.
“But they’re so pretty, Mumma.” Jess protested when she returned the fragile things to their hidey-hole under the stairs.
“We’ll make something even prettier.” Dare promised. “After dinner. No go outside with your Da and see what you can find.”
That set the tone for the next few days. They would sleep in until the children got too restless, then Logan would take them outside. They would tramp through the surrounding forest and scrub, coming back with pockets full of leaves and berries, rocks and pinecones. Anything the children or their father thought would make good fodder for homemade decorations. Sometimes Dare would join them, but she’d usually head back to the cabin long before the children were ready to come inside. Besides, she had her own projects to work on.
While the rest of the family was gone, Dare would explore the house, poking her nose into every nook and cranny, especially the kitchen and pantry. Someone had stocked the place as if a small army would be coming for Christmas dinner. That wasn’t too far off in truth. When they came back from their “adventures” with their father, the whole crew was always ravenous. Dare’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches weren’t quite enough to satisfy. And there was all that food…
So she cooked.
With the help of a couple of age-worn cookbooks she found on a shelf in the pantry and a couple of scribbled note cards from Morgan’s private collection - she cooked.
Or rather she burned. She burned two batches of cookies, a skillet of scrambled eggs and half a dozen baked potatoes before she had anything she dared to serve. She hid the evidence in the bottom of the trash bin. Logan could probably smell it before he even stepped inside, but he was kind enough not to say anything.
“Where did this come from?” Dee gave the plate of still-warm sugar cookies a surprised stare while she unwound a snow-caked muffler from around her face.
“I made them.”
“No you didn’t.” Her oldest frowned, her tone full of suspicion. “You don’t cook.”
“Cookies!” The other children crowded into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of her baking.
“Oooh! Gimmee!
“No fair! Mine!”
“Better get one before they’re gone.” Logan snagged one and bit into it. He gave Dare a wink. They’re good. We got any milk?”
“But…” Deirdre hovered indecisively for a moment before snatching the last one from beneath Liam’s reaching fingers.
“Hey!”
“Too slow, squirt.” She dismissed his protest and took a bite. Golden eyebrows raised in surprise. She chewed and swallowed. “Auntie Faye must have done it.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Dare waggled a finger at her. “Just wait until you taste my Christmas ham.”
“No way.” Jessalyn stopped chewing, her mouth gaping open in a round ‘O’ of disbelief. Several crumbs fell onto the collar of her coat. “Ham?”
“And mashed potatoes. From scratch.”
“Better close yer mouth before something flies in.” Logan chucked the girl gently under the chin. “Sounds good, darlin’. Need me ta go into to town fer anything?”
“No. I don’t think so. The place is pretty well stocked.”
“Good. Now all of ya shuck them coats and wash up. Then we’re gonna sit down and eat all this good food yer Ma made.”
“Do we have to?” Cam’s eyes were big and liquid as she gazed up at her father. He didn’t answer, just shuffled her and the others off to wash up. Damn. She’d never live down the macaroni disaster, would she? Maybe, just maybe they’d forget all about it if she managed to pull of this Christmas dinner thing.
Lunch was scrambled eggs (because the omelettes fell all to bits on her), twice baked potatoes with bacon and cheese (so she could salvage the half of the bacon that hadn’t burned to cinders), canned fruit (because the green beans had come out half soggy and half extra crunchy), and more cookies (the biscuits had come out flat, hard, and pasty white.)
The next day she discovered that it was possible to scorch the bottom of a muffin and still leave the center all wet and gooey. But she managed to make a passable batch of pancakes while watching Logan and the kids make snow angels through the kitchen window. She wondered idly what some of his enemies would think of the fearsome Wolverine rolling around in the snow with a couple of pre-schoolers. There was snow caught in his sideburns and his smile was that amazingly gentle expression that almost no one but his family ever saw.
That night they roasted chestnuts in the fireplace and drank hot cocoa while Logan read “The Night Before Christmas” to the children. He had made an extra effort to wear them out. By the time he finished the twins were yawning and even Dee was blinking slowly.
“Now off to bed, the lot of ya. Tomorrow is the big day.” Logan shooed them toward their rooms.
“And no peeking! Or there’ll be nothing but coal in your stockings.” Dare added for good measure. She’d saved some of the worst of her culinary experiments just in case. The children grumbled. And of course they tried to come up with excuses to delay the inevitable. But she and Logan were firm and soon enough the cabin was quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the soft music coming from the stereo. Logan was actually humming along softly as he puttered about the room, straightening up and making room for the gifts that were too large to fit in a stocking.
“You’re in a good mood.” Dare observed while she folded up the blanket that Jess had been wrapped up in during story time.
“Reckon I am. It’s been good ta get away and spend time with just you and the kids.”
“I told you we needed a vacation.” Dare smirked at him and flopped down on the big brown sectional. She propped her stockinged feet up on the coffee table.
“That ya did. He stopped his roving and sat down beside her. “Oh. Got something fer ya.”
“Oh?” Dare pretended disinterest, but she watched from the corner of her eye as he dug a small box out of his pocket.
“Yer a damn hard woman to shop for. But I wanted to get ya something to show how much I appreciate ya.” He held the box out to her. It was small and black, the sort of box rings come in. “Hope ya like it.”
“Logan…” Shit. And all she’d gotten him was a new pair of boots.
“Open it.” He pressed it into her hand until she just had to take it.
“What? Ooooh!” She raised the lid, her breath coming out in a slow sigh of appreciation. The ring was silver, done in a mannish style scaled down to fit her finger. The metal had been worked into the shape of a dragon, wings spread to guard her finger, tail coiled to circle it. Its eyes winked at her like tiny red flames and its mouth was spilling more jeweled flames. It should have looked cheesy and gaudy, but there was something to the craftsmanship that made it more. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And ya ain’t never gonna see another one. Had it made special for ya. Wanted something to show yer still the little spitfire I fell in love with.”
“I…I love it, Logan. Really.” Damn if she weren’t blushing. She slipped it over her finger and held her hand up to admire the way the jewels picked up the firelight. It’s perfect.”
“Glad ya like it.”
“Let me show you how much I like it.” Dare turned to him, climbing into his lap to wrap arms and legs around him. She kissed him, taking her time to do a thorough job of it. At last Logan pushed her away gently.
“Whew! Better finish with all this Santa business before we get too distracted.”
“Fine.” Dare mock-pouted at him. “But then we go to our room so you can unwrap your present.”
“Ya got a deal, sweetheart.”
Logan liked his present so much that it was nearly dawn before they curled up together beneath the thick down comforter. They didn’t wake until the Christmas morning chaos was in full swing. There were squeals and shouts and the sound of something heavy being overturned.
“Wha?” Dare woke with a start.
“Kids’re up.” Logan rumbled into her ear before rolling out of bed. “I’d better go see what they’ve done now.”
“You might want to put something on first.” Dare snickered. We’re lucky none of them have come barging in yet.”
“Got a point. I’ll go head ‘em off.” He was already sliding into a pair of faded gray sweats. Another thump and squeal sent him out the door.
“Merry Christmas.” Dare snorted. She was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. But she was still ‘unwrapped’ and there was Christmas dinner to be cooked. “Ho, ho, fucking ho.” She muttered to herself, crawling out of bed and into her own pajamas. They were well a well-worn and comfortable black and white plaid.
By the time she reached the living room, whatever the kids had knocked over had already been set to rights. Logan had all five children sitting in a row on the sectional. They each wore varying expressions of guilt, excitement, and plain old mischief.
“All right ya little hoodlums. One, two, three…” Logan pointed at a point somewhere in the middle. All five children rose to their feet, not quite in unison and began to sing at the top of their lungs. They sang with more enthusiasm than accuracy. Dare just had to laugh.
“We wish you a Merry Christmas! We wish you a Merry Christmas! We wish you a Merry Christmas! And a Happy New Year!”
When they were done, she applauded loudly. Then she and Logan sat down to watch them while they played with their new toys. After a while, Logan excused himself to “rustle up some breakfast.” He refused to let Dare help, insisting she’d done more than her share of the cooking so far.
Dare suspected he was just sick of eating her cooking. And that he wanted to make sure he and the kids tog something edible before she set about ruining Christmas dinner. It was almost enough to make her change her mind about the whole thing.
But…she’d already but so much effort into it. And shouldn’t she do it at least once in her life? Just to prove that she could? So she kept her mouth shut and enjoyed breakfast with her family. Logan did make good waffles…
Later that afternoon, she was regretting that decision. The kitchen was full of oily black smoke. The ham was a giant black lump. The gravy had boiled over into a thick, lumpy sludge that covered most of the cook top. The mashed potatoes were stone cold and had narrowly missed being splattered all over the floor. She’d bumped the bowl in her sheer panic while trying to save both the ham and the gravy. The biscuits were still a raw sheet of dough on the counter. It left her no place to put the green bean casserole that was currently burning her hand and threatening to slosh over the sides. It wasn’t supposed to be that soupy was it?
“Mum?” It was Dee, her eyes wide and her voice careful with that ‘don’t freak out the crazy lady’ tone that you used with jumpers and overwrought superheroes. “Da asked me to see if you needed help.” She coughed and waved a hand at the smoke.
“Does it look like I need help?” Dare snarled and set the casserole down on the least sludgy bit of stove she could find.
“I’ll go get Da.” The girl fled, vanishing back through the door.
“Yeah. You do that.” Dare muttered. Damn it. She could kick ass with the best of them. Call down a blazing inferno that would make Drake piss ice cubes. But she couldn’t fix one fucking holiday meal without it turning into a total disaster. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck.” She growled under her breath and started scraping the sludge into a dirty bowl with a dishrag.
“Having trouble sweetheart?” Logan’s tone was mild, like he wasn’t looking at the worst disaster since the Hindenburg went down in flames.
“Oh, I’ve just completely ruined our Christmas dinner, that’s all.” She kept on with her scraping. No. She wasn’t crying. It was the damned smoke making her eyes tear up and her throat raspy. She stiffened at the touch of his and on her arm. He took the filthy rag from her.
“Don’t look ruined ta me. How about we clear out some of this smoke and see what we got?”
“We got cold masked potatoes and green bean soup. That’s what we got.” She grumbled. But she set the dirty bowl in the sink and helped him open the kitchen windows. The fan over the stove was already going full tilt. Between it and the cold December air, the smoke was clearing quickly.
“Now let’s take a look.” She wanted to just die. Or sink through the floor. Or maybe run off to the North Pole with Frosty the Snowman. He didn’t need to eat, right? Logan made little noises as he examined each of her failures.
“Do you think there’s a McDonalds or Burger King open somewhere? Maybe a Pizza Hut? Or a Waffle House? They never close, do they?
“Ain’t gonna haul the kids to some greasy spoon fer Christmas. Besides, we already had waffles fer breakfast.” She watched in near horror as he sliced off a bit of blackened pork and took a bite. “Ain’t no reason to waste all this good food ya made.”
“Good? You’re crazy.”
“Mebbe. But it’s still good. Jest calm down and we’ll have it hot and on the table before the kids get done building their snowman.
And Logan was as good as his word. The green bean casserole went back in the oven while Dare finished cutting the biscuits and laying them out on the baking sheet. Logan carved the blackened husk off the ham and revealed a pink and surprisingly edible interior. The sludge was cleaned off the stove and the goo left in the pan coaxed into something like gravy with the addition of canned stock and enough whisking to make Dare’s wrist ache. The potatoes were easiest; just a few minutes in the microwave had them steaming hot again. In thirty minutes they had a passable meal on the table.
It was all worth it to see the expressions of disbelief on the kids’ faces as they trooped in for dinner. There were several awkward stares, eyes flicking from the table to Dee, to their parents and back again.
“If it’s good, do we still get to play with your DS?” Cam finally asked her big sister, her eyes as big as the biscuit on her plate.
“Yeah, do we?” McKenna asked.
“Hush.” Liam was a bit more forceful than necessary as he pushed Mckenna’s seat under the table.
“It looks really good, Mumma.” Jess’s voice held equal measures of hope and relief.
“Hush. Set down so’s we can say grace.” Logan gave them a stern look.
“Grace?” Dee looked startled and she sat down in her seat like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Dare gave her a sharp glance and the girl looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. Sorry.” She bowed her head. The other children followed her lead.
“You want ta do it, darlin’?” Logan turned to Dare, but she shook her head no.
“All right then. Whoever it is up there running the show, thanks fer the meal we’re about to eat. And thanks for the chance to spend time together. Amen.” There was a murmured chorus of echos. “And thanks to yer Ma fer fixing it all. Now dig in.”
And they did, tentatively at first. Then with more and more enthusiasm as they found the food more than edible. Dare was still mortified that she’d made such a mess of it. But she was beyond grateful to the man beside her for helping her rescue the meal from compete disaster. And he’d done it without a single word of derision or looking at her like she was a fool.
When she rose to take an empty platter to the kitchen and fetch the homemade brownies (she’d made them yesterday so she’d have enough time to make another batch if she had to), she leaned over to plant a kiss on Logan’s cheek. “Thank you.” She whispered.
“Fer what?”
“Everything.”
“Mumma?” Jess tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.
“What, poppet?”
“Can I have another biscuit?”
“Of course you can.” And she left the room to fetch it. Smiling.