A Wilmette Christmas
Title: A Wilmette Christmas
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Yeah, this is obviously not real, so, yeah.
Summary: Peterick and their rag-tag brood enjoy a quiet suburban Xmas.
-
The sun rose quietly, unassumingly, over the frosted suburb of Wilmette. A gentle blanket of snow had fallen the night before that now glistened on the ground, the trees, the houses, the cars, and anything else that had held still long enough. Smoke already rose from a few chimneys, and if you lifted your nose to the sky and sniffed the air, you'd pick up the smells of cinnamon and turkey just beginning to roast.
It was a Christmas morning fit for Norman Rockwell. Or at the very least, Bob Ross.
In the house on the corner of Piedmont and Franklin, Noelle Stump-Wentz was the first to wake. Rising from a deep sleep reserved for angels and good children, she opened her baby blues with a smile, remembering what day it was and what awaited her downstairs. Resisting the urge to go running through the house squealing like she'd swallowed a police siren, Noelle slowly slipped out from under her princess pink covers and tiptoed to the purple side of the room.
"SiSi... Sisi, wake up, it's morning." Sienna Stump-Wentz, half-hidden under her lavender pillow, peeped out at her little sister groggily. "It's Christmas morning, SiSi, presents!"
Sienna groaned and stretched, scratching at her magenta hair. "Can't I sleep another half hour?"
"Noooooooo, SiSi, presents!" Noelle tugged on her arm, her underdeveloped patience wearing thin.
"Fine, fine, whiny little troll, we'll go and wake the boys."
The next room over belonged to Gregory Stump-Wentz, as the notebook paper sign on the door stated. Stepping in quietly, the girls split to take a boy each, Noelle skittering happily over to the blanket covered lump on the floor and sitting on it with little grace. "Wakey, wakey, Bubby, it's present time!"
Bronx Wentz, startled awake by the attack, rolled over so she fell off and sat up rubbing his eyes. "NoeNoe, you're gonna be the death of me. I was having a dream that Dad and Patrick bought me a Lambo for Christmas."
"Maybe they did, Bubby, let's go see!"
Meanwhile, Sienna ripped the army green bedspread off her brother like a magician revealing a trick. "Rise and shine, Grego, if I'm up this early, so are you."
Greg flinched and curled into a ball, clutching his pillow tighter. "Mmmmmphhhhh, go away. Sleep......"
"Up, Greggy, UP!" Noelle climbed up onto the bed and took to shaking his shoulder. "Presents!"
"Grrrrrmmmm, fine, just get off me. Go wake up the dads, I'll be right with you...."
At the end of the hall was the bedroom of Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump, an exercise in organized disorder. True to their natures, Patrick slept serenely on his side, while Pete sprawled haphazardly across the bed on his back. Blocking the girls at the doorway, Bronx lifted a finger to his lips with a smirk, tiptoeing forward and picking up the black and silver guitar in the corner.
With one thunderous windmill chord, the dads were jolted awake, Patrick falling on his ass in surprise. "You said you weren't gonna do that this year," he groused, easing his tired bones up to stand.
"You said you were gonna pack up all the instruments in the house so they wouldn't be able to do it," Pete yawned, stretching out like a cat against the mattress. "It's officially morning, then?"
"Presents!" Noelle stomped her little fuzzy slippered foot, more anxious by the second.
"Yup, it's morning. C'mere, NoeNoe, sweetie," Patrick cooed, scooping up the persnickety little blonde. "Tell me what morning it is."
"Christmas!"
"And what else?"
"Birthday!"
"That's right, my little holiday angel is one year older. How old are you now?"
"I'm six!"
"Yessir, now start the stubborn sixes," Pete smirked, grabbing a shirt off the floor. "Since we're up now, shall we go destroy the living room?"
Sienna gave a sarcastically nonchalant shrug. "Might as well. We're only up at an ungodly hour on a Saturday for no reason."
"It's too early for smartassery, young lady, now go get your brother so we can finally open all those presents."
The happy patchwork family made their way first to Greg's room, pulling him gleefully from his bed, before making their way down the stairs to the living room. Noelle, Greg and Sienna broke out into bright smiles as they took in the sight of the tinsel-covered tree, eventually screaming with excitement and diving headfirst into the presents below.
"Ah, to be young on Christmas morning," Bronx sighed with a smirk, folding his arms and watching his sort-of siblings.
"What the fuck are you talking about, you're still young," Pete chuckled, giving his son a shove. "Get in the fray before they open yours too."
With the kids distracted, Patrick shuffled closer to Pete and rested his head on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. "What's the count this year?"
"Let's see..." Pete mused, watching in quiet contentment as Noelle clutched tightly at a brand new babydoll. "Fourteen... ten... six..."
"Fourteenth Christmas we've spent together..."
"Tenth Christmas since we adopted Greg and SiSi..."
"Sixth Christmas since Ashlee had Noelle for us..."
"And with any luck, there will be many more to come, Santrick baby..." Pete smirked against the smaller man's baseball cap, putting an arm around his shoulders.