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Jon had spent the past few Christmases alone. He was used to it, it was fine. Sometimes he’d treat himself to a bit of mulled wine, turn the heat up and bundle up in his warmest blanket. It would remind him of the times when Georgie would hold him and cared enough to make sure he was warm. But he didn’t have that anymore and had to settle for this weak self-comfort.
He spent last year's Christmas regressed, wailing on the couch. When he finally got out of headspace he was utterly drained, unable to answer even the simplest texts from Sasha, which read ‘happy christmas! give me a call xx.’ But that was before she knew he regressed, though she always said she had a suspicion. He occasionally slipped at work, a wide-eyed look or a slightly childish sentence out of place with his usual precise language. And then, of course, there was the incident with Elias only a month ago.
But now he had Tim and Sasha. Apparently, they wanted him over for Christmas; moody, miserable Jon that always got prickly around the holidays. A mixture of seasonal depression and general loneliness always kicked in; his holidays with Georgie were fondly remembered, the ones with his grandmother less so. She would get him a present or two but it was never particularly thought out, though Jon knew she tried her best.
But this year his friends had decided that Jon deserved a real Christmas, whatever that meant. They got a real tree for the flat and decorated it, its twinkling lights a constant, mesmerizing glow. They’d baked cookies, which Jon promptly made himself sick on. He didn’t have much of an appetite when big or little, but his little side always gave into his sweet tooth. Tim said the only thing left was playing in the snow, which it had yet to do. Jon scoffed, but there was something very magical about snow in December, something even he couldn’t deny.
And now he was in the back of Tim’s car, fidgeting with his overnight bag. He’d spent a few nights over at their flat before and he didn’t want to impose, but they insisted. A small but growing pile of Jon-related memorabilia was there and it made him feel at home. Much more at home than at his small, lonely flat. Tim had the radio tuned to Christmas classics and Jon occasionally hummed along, which made him smile. Sasha was always complimenting his voice, and he had a feeling she hacked her way into most of the online evidence of his college years, though she never brought it up.
In his bag were presents for the two of them- a newer, nicer tennis racket for Tim since his current one was falling apart. A new day planner for Sasha in quality leather and embossed with her name. They were good gifts, Jon could admit that. But lurking in the bottom of the bag was something he’d made while he was alone in his apartment, deep in headspace and longing for his caregivers. It was a handmade book of childish drawings that featured the three of them, a couple of animals, and the occasional monster or two that Jon designed. He was incredibly proud of it when little, and not so much when big. Still, he knew that if he regressed he would be sad to lose it, so he kept it. Perhaps he would get the courage to actually give it to them.
He was teetering right now on the edge of headspace. It was Christmas Eve and the child in him always wanted to acknowledge it, but he wanted to at least remain big for the better part of the evening so he could enjoy dinner and maybe a glass of wine. He still was a bit shy about the whole situation, no matter how much Sasha and Tim reassured him. That all went to hell, however, when he stepped into the flat.
The two of them had added even more decoration, garland and fairy lights strung up wherever possible. The smell of dinner was enticing, and a few Christmas-themed candles had been lit. The best part was the tree- or rather, what was under the tree.
Presents. So many of them, wrapped in shiny, metallic paper that Jon itched to tear into. His eyes went big, and he could see Tim and Sasha smile indulgently out of the corner of his eyes. “Are those for me?” he asked in a quiet voice, already fidgeting with his hands a bit.
“Uh, yeah,” Tim chuckled, a sheepish hand on the back of his neck. “We might’ve gone a little overboard.” Overboard was an understatement. It looked like something out of a movie, all of those packages laid out with pretty bows and ribbons. He didn’t deserve them.
“Let us spoil you,” Sasha murmured, hugging him from behind. He liked when she did that; she was tall enough that her frame enveloped his. “Are you hungry?”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, bashfully turning towards her and burying his face in her neck. “Food p’ease.” She giggled and helped him out of his coat, tossing it to Tim and leading him over to the table at his usual seat. He could be big, he could eat on his own today. After Mama- Sasha went through all of the trouble of cooking this nice dinner. He did notice that she took away the empty wine glass at his place setting, though.
She filled his plate with food- ham, vegetables, mashed potatoes, corn and of course, mac and cheese. It was something he loved eating when he was both little and big, and Sasha picked up on it, often including it in his meals if he promised to eat a bit of the vegetables. But he was big now, and he could eat like an adult.
“Look good, Jon?” Tim gestured towards his plate with a small smile. It did. Everything was nicely separated, Jon didn’t like his foods to touch even out of headspace. He nodded, clumsily reaching for his fork and loading a forkful of green beans on to it. Success, he thought to himself when he managed a mouthful.
Tim and Sasha kept up a light chatter that he tried to contribute to, but it was hard to balance talking and eating. He interjected with some sort of inane comment and Tim just smiled indulgently, tapping Jon underneath his chin with one finger. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, bud.” His voice went into a sweeter, fond cadence like it always did when Jon was little.
And then he tried for a bit of corn that ended up on the floor. Such a bad baby, his mind yelled and he could feel his chin wobble as his eyes teared up. “Sorry, m’sorry!”
“It’s okay, sweetie! It was an accident,” Sasha soothed, leaning down with a napkin to clean up his mess. “Do you want to eat with Papa instead?”
He sniffled and nodded, quickly finding himself in his Papa’s arms and sitting on his lap as Tim pulled the plate over to his side. “What do you want bud? You were so good with your vegetables, I think we should have some mac and cheese, hm?” Yum!
Tim fed him small, manageable bites and he tried to focus on their conversation but how could he, when there were all those presents waiting for him under the tree? By the time he was full his eyes were drooping and he couldn’t help leaning back against his Papa, but he was still impatient to open them. “P’sents?” he asked as he was being lifted and cuddled into Papa’s side.
“Those are for tomorrow, buddy. Good boys have to go to sleep first. And you’ve been very, very good.”
“Nuh uh,” he mumbled, fighting weekly against his Papa’s hold. “Been bad. So I open t’night.”
He could hear Mama laugh under her breath as she pecked him on the cheek. “I think baby’s too tired to open them now. Tim, can you get him changed and ready for bed while I clear up?”
“Will do, Sash.” Jon wanted to fight more but he instead became pliant in Tim’s arms, exhausted and filled with good food. Before he knew it, he was snuggled in bed, curled around his Papa and already dreaming.
A small thump and Tim was awake, blinking wearily into the darkness. It was one in the morning, according to the clock on the nightstand.
And Jon was no longer in bed.
Sasha snored easily beside him, lulled by the extra glass of wine she had in bed after Jon fell asleep, sweet and warm in his arms. He was so happy with their little family; he never expected it, coming to the Magnus Institute solely for information on what happened to his brother. But then he’d met Sasha, so fiercely intelligent and loving in her own manner. Never was that more apparent when she was around Jon.
Jon had been shy and grumpy with him at first, but Tim broke through his shell. Sasha had been incredibly protective of him, only disclosing his regression after he’d won her hard-earned trust. And Jon was such a curious, adorable little boy that Tim couldn’t help loving them both, inserting himself in their dynamic in an almost seamless manner. And now they got to spend Christmas together, and it was the happiest he’d felt in a very long time.
But one member of their family was currently crawling across the floor in his new flannel pajamas, trying to be as quiet as possible. Tim grinned.
He got up from the bed silently, tiptoeing behind his completely oblivious baby as he crawled towards the tree. As soon as the little hand reached out for a present he scooped him into his arms, delighted at the answering squeal.
“And what do you think you’re doing, mister?” he said down to the squirming bundle in his arms. Jon looked at him wide-eyed, feigning innocence.
“N-Nothin’, Papa! Jus’ wanna look. P’mise.”
“Didn’t seem like lookin’ to me, baby.” He gave him a tickle on his tummy that had him shrieking in laughter. “Seemed like someone was trying to open presents early.”
“Nuh uh-”
“I think he can open one present,” a sleepy voice came from behind him. It was Sasha, leaning against the doorway with a yawn. “Since he was so good last night. You wanna pick one, sweetheart?”
Jon nodded emphatically, grinning as he wiggled out of Tim’s arms and back onto the floor, facing the mountainous pile of presents. We really did go overboard, Tim thought. But he couldn’t help it; he wanted to give both big and little Jon as many presents as he wanted. Jon wasn’t naturally big on gifts, but little Jon loved toys.
He pointed to a shiny package on the top of the pile, misshapen and big. Tim plucked it for him, placing it in Jon’s grabby hands. He tore at the paper with reckless abandon, causing the two of them to laugh, Sasha now leaning against his shoulder. Jon’s eyes lit up at the large cat stuffie, instantly squishing it to his chest with a delighted squeal. “Cat!” he informed them.
“So you like?” Jon nodded, his grin contagious. “What’s his name?”
“Umm…”
“S’okay, sweetie. You can think on it.” Sasha tugged at his arm, raising him to his feet. “Let’s go back to bed, alright? You can bring your new friend with you.”
“Kay!”
Jon was up bright and early, tugging on their sleeves at seven in the morning. “P’sent time!” he cheered, urging them out as they slowly awakened. “C’mon!”
It was nice that he was still in headspace- Tim wanted him to enjoy opening his little presents without any of the embarrassment he seemed to feel when big. “Alright, we’re coming!” he promised, shuffling out of the bedroom with Sasha in tow. Jon dropped to his knees in front of the tree, placing the stuffed cat gently beside him and clapping his hands. “I open?”
“Yes, baby. You can open.” They took their seats beside him, watching in awe as he tore through wrapping paper in what had to be record-breaking time. A mountain of stuffies, blankets, toys, crayons- you name it, they bought it- was made, each one appreciated with a shocked ‘wow!’ or a yell of enthusiasm. The clothes somewhat less so; Jon thanked them sincerely but placed them off to the side in favor of more entertaining fare, as was expected. Still, Jon needed more comfy clothes for when he was in headspace, and as cute as the button ups and little sweater vests were, they weren’t for playing or cuddling. Jon needed stuff he could move around in.
“I open those?” he pointed to a smaller pile- big Jon’s pile of gifts. Smaller but no less expensive- Tim and Sasha wanted to make sure he knew he was loved, big or small. That was the biggest hurdle with him. Sasha shook her head, wanting big Jon to have some of the Christmas cheer.
“Those are for when you’re big, baby. Then you can have a whole ‘nother Christmas!” Shockingly, Jon seemed fine with this, nodding his head reasonably as he jumped to his feet.
“I have p’sents for you when m’big again,” he said in that serious little voice he sometimes adopted. “But I also have p’sent for you now.” He and Sasha shared a look- this was an unexpected surprise. Though it shouldn’t be, really. Despite his rambunctious and occasionally bratty nature, Jon was a sweet and thoughtful child.
He came back with what looked like crudely-taped together pieces of paper, and handed it over with a smile. “Ta da!”
“Aw, thank you!” Sasha smooched him on the cheek and tugged him onto her lap, tucking her head over his chin. “What’s this?” Tim paged through the papers- it was pictures, some of the three of them (stick figures, of course, only told apart by their spikey, bright hair), some of flowers, suns and stars, and the occasional creature of Jon’s own creation. Jon had obviously put a lot of time into it, he’d seen the way he carefully colored even the most simple of drawings.
“This is great, buddy!” Tim said sincerely, attempting to blink away suddenly watery eyes. He wasn’t that much of a softie, couldn’t be. “Mama and Papa love it!”
“I knew you would,” Jon stated proudly and they laughed at the proclamation. “I worked extra hard on it.”
“I can tell. Look at those monsters! Very scary.”
It was without a doubt the sweetest Christmas Tim could remember having in a good long while. As it turned out, Sasha and Jon were all he needed.
“And Captain Cat.”
Tim blinked. “Sorry?”
“Captain Cat.” Jon picked up the cat stuffie, shoving it into his face. “That’s his name.”
“Of course it is.”
A nice ending to a surprisingly good year, all things considered.