seasons greetings

A tiny little island of American-ness in the wider sea of Japan. His dad had skipped over that sea most years when they’d been growing up, ending up somewhere else for Thanksgiving, but it hadn’t meant that hadn’t celebrated (although if there was a chance he’d be back before Christmas they’d hold some of that thankfulness in reserve). The three of them clustered around the dining table, Frank handed the knife to carve up the turkey, the potatoes passed off to him to mash. There were probably photos of it somewhere in his parents’ things, right alongside the photos of his wedding and the trip they’d taken there with Hazel. Layers of family life stacked in the albums. Maybe they’d have one more there the next time, a high chair pulled up to the table, mashed potatoes smeared on chubby cheeks. Or they’d end up here. Three generations around a table that was gonna have to grow again.

Figuring they’d wanna see their boys together – and their unborn grandchild still holding strong in the comfortable globe of his mama’s belly, Theo made sure he tucked his tablet in one of the bags. Passed to Hazel to ferry out to the car as they’d loaded up for a day that’d stretch as long as Freyja’s energy held out. If the pre-travel nap was anything to go by, that might not be as long as it had been last year. They’d taken advantage of it, not trusting the circus like balancing act that would’ve been giving Freyja the turkey to carry out to the car, balanced like a beach ball on the sealion’s nose – or the focal point of dinner perched on top of a ticking time bomb of a bump.

So far Bo had seemed pretty adamant about staying put, but any day, any hour, any minute that would change. As wilful as their mom and probably just as determined to have him waking up to the big event in the middle of the night. Woken from that post dinner coma to the news that Bo was already crowning. Theo narrowed his eyes, glancing across at his wife as he drove. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been trying to get things moving for weeks now. Chili flakes taking the place of pickles on the pregnancy bingo board, strolls with the dogs – who didn’t entirely get that their mistress was slower than ever – and what had failed again first thing this morning. Heat rose in his cheeks as he squeezed her hand. That hadn’t made them late, Frank’s strays probably wouldn’t all arrive until the grace was being said anyway.

The food made the same trip in at the other end, hands pressed into action. Turkey in the middle of the table, heat still radiating through the tin foil shield over it, the bowls carrying what Freyja had been allowed to help with – in doses measured out by him and Hazel uncovered and set down. Bo was right there in the centre of it all, inevitably, the world of hugs and greetings and laughter wrapped around the bump. At the side of the table, Theo grimaced, pressing his lips to his wife’s temple as she pointed out the elephant in the room. ”I’d say no,” he murmured. The heat riding high in Frank’s face, like he’d taken a mouthful of last night’s chicken (alright, maybe two whole birds eye chilis had been a little too much dynamite in trying to blow Bo out of there), a sign that something had gone down. Not a permanent severance of the guy – and his sister (who would’ve believed he hadn’t been raised by wolves Mowgli style) – from the table, Frank would’ve brought that up, but something that’d take some working out of him after.

Heads bowed around the table, the words that’d become as familiar as the Sunday sermons murmured by Kit. Hazel eyes lifted, flitting from face to face, each slotting into a place in his life, stretching its edges until it felt incredible to realise just how much room there’d been, how much was empty before. Before Freyja. Theo bit back the grin that threatened to become a chuckle as he caught the glare narrowing his wife’s eyes. Katja’s eye had been roving during the prayer, fingers already curved around a fork that was circling in the air, a ‘come on’ to get it over and done with so she could dip for one of the plates.

Freyja got there first, the spoon dipping into the potatoes, swinging in that mama arc between the three plates as Frank’s voice rose, thanking the mutts, especially the ones who’d brought the family back together (a discrete look cast in Hazel’s direction) before he chuckled and aimed a finger at Kit – the guy who’d made sure he could be here for this at all. The ball, so to speak, was tossed to Kit, Frank rising with the carving knife and fork in his hands. ”Yes ma’am,” he murmured. Theo took his plate dutifully as the sweet potato casserole (Freyja’s possible new nirvana) slapped down. ”I guess we better make the most of eating for two while it lasts, hmm?” Like he was the one with a baby feasting from his system, not that he hadn’t made use of the excuse in the last 10 months. He frowned faintly as Freyja paused. ”That good huh?” He held out his plate as Frank slid the meat onto it, dark and light, the dark rapidly slid onto Freyja’s plate as she rapidly emptied it.

Cory was watching her, almost breathless, his mention of a family, the one who’d welcomed him and his sister when they were just strangers, slowly tailing off. Katja caught the ball, rambling through a string of what might’ve been Spanish, but probably wasn’t, before Freyja stepped up to bat. ”Let’s cross our fingers,” he said, laughing lightly. Maybe their legs too. There was a finish line there somewhere and he was just beginning to see where it stretched across the end of his night. Freyja knew it too, oh, they were gonna have a talk when the clock started to twitch in those five minute segments. Like Hazel hadn’t taught them anything.

The rest were taking their time, dishes passed, emotions swallowed back with green beans and the casserole as the gratitude began to draw them out. Kace’s hand found his brother’s shoulder, squeezed before he bumped it with his knuckles. Family stitched together in ways he hadn’t know it could be. Tugged at like they were all strung like puppets by it at Freyja’s whined interruption. Frank was already staring as he tossed down his napkin on the table. The tape of that finish line practically stretched through the centre of the table now. ”Fine. Uh huh,” he murmured. He dipped his head slightly, his hand finding where Freyja’s was banded around his arm. ”Had to outdo your sister. You could’ve waited ‘til the pumpkin pie was done. Save me a piece.” Kace nodded to him, although Theo had his doubts that there’d be a single crumb left with this rabble around the table.

Promise. It was meant, he was sure of it, but the clock was already ticking with each bump of Freyja’s pulse against his own in his wrist. Fingers clasped together, mashed potato and green beans and gravy worked through like a runner fuelling up for the upcoming marathon. Sixty seconds, one twenty, all the way up near the three hundred mark before his fork clattered to his plate, its load of turkey bouncing free as her hand clamped down. Theo twisted in his seat, murmuring soft through the groan that silenced the rest of the table. His lips pressed against Freyja’s hair, his other hand settled on her knee, his thumb circling like it could unravel the knot in the band of pain that had to be tightening around her bump.

Half the faces at the table were a little paler as it finally eased. Frank was quick to get to his feet, hands up in surrender. ”I’ll call, let them know you’re heading home. You are gonna make it before … right?” His gaze dropped to Freyja’s abdomen before they shot back up, that blush rising in his face again. ”Ready to hang out with us for the rest of the night, Hazel?” The smile was wan, but it was there as Theo eased to his feet. They’d be fine, that was one weight off his mind.

The trip to the car was even slower the one into the house had been less than an hour before. No elevator to negotiate this time, just that hundred yard waddle with the clock to the next contraction ticking down. It’d be easier on the move than in the middle of the driveway, although the upholstery might not survive so well. ”You rat. I knew something was up.” Theo was grinning as he put the car in gear though, his fingers lacing back with Freyja’s – the stress ball that was gonna be aching before Bo came screaming into the world offered up – squeezing lightly as he started back towards their place. Thank God for that move just a little further out of the centre of Mystic Falls. Less road to navigate before they were pulling up in their own drive, the clock ticking to the next contraction faster now.

He was slipping out of the car, jogging around to the other side. Luckily they weren’t gonna have the dogs racing through the middle of this, diving into the birthing pool the way they had when he’d set it up on its test run. ”You want me to bring it out here?” Theo asked, his face lighting up like Hazel’s had for her third Christmas as she’d found Santa’s snowy footprints leading through the house towards the chimney. There was no way Bo was hanging out until Christmas, but this was close enough, the only gift he’d ever wanted left to carry on celebrating in Frank’s home and right here, with them.

Tagged: FREYJA DAMASCA * Word Count: 1679

You know, it shouldn’t been obvious before they’d even made it into the car to head to Frank’s. It should’ve been obvious the minute Bo hadn’t arrived on Freyja’s due date. Thanksgiving. The day the whole family – blood and not – were gonna come together around a table for a few hours of togetherness and stuffing themselves silly. The day drama was almost expected anyway. The perfect day for Freyja’s labour to start the minute everybody started to shovel the food in (while it was hot). Only it hadn’t been and his stinker of a wife absolutely knew it.

No amount of leg crossing was going to avoid dinner being broken up. They could’ve had one of the uncles come and pick Hazel and the dogs up, dishes handed over with their middle of the night baby. Freyja probably would’ve chewed him out for not getting her hands on some of the sweet potato casserole while it was hot. Maybe a valid reason given how good the tiny bit of it he’d actually been able to swallow before Bo had Freyja bringing the whole meal to a halt with her cursing at the table, but not valid enough.

Theo knew the chances of this being a ten minute labour were running at about a zero – maybe by the time they were at their eighth kid, but not now – Frank didn’t though. This wasn’t going to be a pop the baby out and be back here in time for pie sort of thing. It was a metaphorically pop Uncle Frank on the chin kinda thing. Theo saw the verbal blow land and Frank go back to shovelling in food with a quiet ”yes ma’am”, a dark stain rising up his face. The apology would come later, although probably not from Kit, who might’ve needed the Heimlich after they left. ”Let’s hope it’s quicker than that,” Theo murmured. He nodded gratefully to his brother as he stood, shot Cory a reassuring smile as he’d caught him sitting there, staring, mouth open still like a literal elephant had arrived at the table. ”Be good for them okay, kiddo?” Theo bent and kissed the top of his daughter’s head and then he was shuffling out the door with his wife, shooting a bright see you later over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them.

Having Bo at the dinner table would’ve definitely been preferable to him having to pull over and deliver the baby himself on the side of some rural road. Hazel’s birth had been a long time ago – even if he could still remember that surprisingly heavy weight being placed in his arms – med school even longer ago. Theo was pretty sure he could fumble through it, but he’d be happier handing all of that off to the midwives and focusing on helping his wife through the labour. They got to the car at least, the drive being taken at maybe a couple of miles an hour over the limit. He tried not to goose the accelerator as another contraction hit mid-drive, just held on to Freyja’s hand as she clung through it, groaning out the curse that had him grinning. ”I know you,” he crooned. ”At least I know the lengths you’ll go to for some sweet potato casserole now.” For their family, who were probably now laughing nervously and starting back in on the food, wondering when the call would come.

A slow trip down out of the car, each movement taken ponderously, the shifting weight caught in his hands. His grin as bright as Freyja’s as her feet hit the driveway. ”Who’s the doctor here, huh?” he asked. The one who got his feet just as wet as his wife’s. Theo’s face scrunched up. Was this going to be tradition too? Let’s let dad share in the joys of broken waters, again. He grimaced, swinging the door shut behind Freyja, kinda glad she’d gotten the worst of it. Theo had one arm around his wife’s waist, his forearm tucked under hers, both hands clamped in hers. ”After that sucker punch you gave him? Maybe not,” Theo said, tilting his head before he chuckled. ”He’ll call. If he doesn’t one of the others will, they’ve all got sensible heads on their shoulders.” Including his brother when he wasn’t picking parts of his ego up off the floor.

The wet foot prints were gonna lead the midwife through the house. Theo made sure to leave the front door unlatched, his wet shoes kicked off next to Freyja’s on the mat – thankfully he hadn’t been soaked through to the skin. ”Yes ma’am.” Bo was going to be born right in the middle of their home, the one they had built up around their first child, sixteen years of memories, of laughter and love for Bo to feel from the very first moment. Their baby would feel that love between their parents, beaming out in goofy grins. ”Yeah, I’m smiling at my drowned rat. I fell in love you all dripping and squishing. Pretty sure I love you even more now.” He definitely did. Beaming, he smacked a kiss on the side of her head before strolling into the living room. He felt the love all the way, like warmth on his skin, intensifying as Freyja peeked at him, grinning.

Dry running the pool had left the dogs in raptures – leaving him disinfecting the whole thing, and mopping up the living room after they’d leapt in and out of it. This time they were thankfully under Frank’s dinner table, begging for whatever was going to drop instead of getting in the way here. Theo dragged the coffee table aside, setting the pool out in the middle of the room. The hose went on the tap in the downstairs bathroom and was trailed across the floor to start filling the pool up. ”You cold?” he asked, looking up at her. She was wet now and it wasn’t exactly summer. ”I thought you were tougher Damasca, like you could have the baby out in the barn and be up for a ride five minutes later.” Theo clucked his tongue, but he had the thermometer hooked up all the same. They’d gone through all the details with the midwives, everything that would need to be in place before they swept in.

Theo got to his feet, already stripping off his coat to toss it down on the couch, his sweater was going too, wrapped around his wife as she eased closer, super focused on each step. ”Uh huh,” Theo drawled. ”No clue at all, just like with Hazel.” Only Freyja had been sure then, her waters bursting in bed making it kind of inescapable. ”Thinking about me and the sweet potato casserole,” he corrected, smirking. ”I got a little taste at least and I’m pretty sure they’ll both something aside for us for tomorrow. You disturbed your momma’s thanksgiving,” Theo murmured, bending to touch his lips to her bump. At least Thanksgiving moved, which meant Bo wouldn’t suffer the indignation of sharing a birthday with a major holiday every year.

The knock at the door had relief flooding through his gut. Frank had pulled off his uncle duty, the midwife thankfully not delaying for their own thanksgiving. ”We’re through here,” he called out, letting out a long breath as the midwife bustled in. ”Sorry for calling you out today.” That was another bonus of not actively working in medicine, no having to leave the family on those big holidays.

Tagged: FREYJA DAMASCA * Word Count: 1254

These days same sex relationships didn’t mean going without kids. Frank seemed to have settled into his not-so-odd-couple situation over the years, filling up his house with the waifs and strays who were scattered around the dinner table this afternoon (plus Dominic), happy playing uncle to Hazel instead of finding the one to fall in love with, to have kids of his own with. Did it worry him sometimes? Maybe, but Frank seemed happy, when his sister in law wasn’t taking a verbal swing. ”You never know,” Theo reminded his wife. He squeezed Freyja’s hands, not wanting to peel one away to rub the small of her back. ”But yeah, that’s one thing he’s not seeing you do. Kit will make sure he does.” He winced faintly though. Either Kit or their daughter, who probably had a wiser head on her shoulders than either of her uncles thus far.

If there was anybody in Frank’s household who would’ve approached getting a taste of this, it was probably Kit. There’d been a time when it seemed as though whatever wounds his brother’s death had caused were only being kept from opening wider by the judicious application of female company, but for more than a year Katja had been there, seeming to help that slow healing in the household by sharing Kit’s bed. Maybe one day it’d turn into more, and then Frank would be surrounded by happy little families. Or fiery ones when one of those kids was on the verge of making an appearance.

Freyja’s grouchiness had gotten no better with each contraction, the ‘I can’t believe you did this to me’ tone to the growls and the actual words that were spoken in the lulls only continuing. Theo turned as he hit the living room, going down the stairs into the sunken space backwards to grin at his wife. ”Always,” he promised, missing whatever those grumbles were as he signed I love you at her. ”The thank you’s implicit in the I adore you more every day. You and our incredible kids.” The one and soon to be a bit. Each had taken up residence in a heart he'd once been sure would expand no further than his own immediate family – back in the days before he’d realised just how big it was possible for a heart to grow, how many it could encompass.

They’d done this with a far smaller tub when Hazel had been small. Her first bath taken with a little blue bath on the kitchen table, warm water tested with his fingers, that tiny rosebud mouth pursing up before Hazel had let out a squawk of protest. Bo was gonna do more than that when they emerged. Water births were meant to be more relaxing for mama and baby, but Theo imagined he was still going to hear those reassuring first shrieks – if Bo was anything like Hazel, they’d definitely have their mama’s lungs. Flicking off the water from his fingertips, Theo held both hands up for a moment. ”We’re not making number three yet,” he snorted. ”I think we’re both gonna be a little too busy to worry about that.” Those first few weeks of sleepless nights – for both of them as he kept his hearing aids in overnight to save Freyja from handling every feed – juggling parenting their first born and her new baby brother or sister, were going to leave them both on the brink of zombiehood.

Maybe he shoulda crossed his legs as he approached, since Freyja had been the idea of putting his virility on hold for at least a day, but Theo was as trusting as ever as he approached. His Warrior Princess was the one who saved him from that sort of thing, all that fierce wrapped up in that swelling body. Clucking his tongue, he anchored his fingers in the arms of the sweater he drew around her. ”Well, you know, when you’re deaf you miss out on some things.” Or when your wife had a taste for holding off on telling you your kid was on the way for as long as humanly possible, stubbornness engrained bone deep. Smiling, Theo eased into kissing his wife as he straightened up from offering one up to his kid, his lips curving against hers. One quiet moment before all of the hollering assaulted those delicate ears – both sets of them.

For now it was all soft, as warm and wet as the filling pool as the orders started up again. Theo pressed a kiss to the nape of his wife’s neck before he dropped to his knees. ”Hold on tight…” he warned, skimming his hands up to the waistband of Freyja’s tights. He’d always told Hazel to do the same when he’d had to try and get the squirmy toddler changed – one independent enough to not want dad’s help from practically the moment she could tell him no. ”Foot up,” he encouraged, skimming the tights and socks in one soggy bundle down to her ankles. They’d worry about clearing it up once their little bundle was safely here. Theo balled them up, setting them aside, off of the carpet, before slipping back up as the doorbell rang. Theo called out, drawing the midwife into the house with that apology for calling her out on Thanksgiving.

Theo narrowed his eyes at his wife, pointing a finger in her direction as she clutched at him. There wasn’t Frank would argue with in that observation. ”I’m gonna tell him you said that,” he crooned, returning anger with a grin. ”Maybe Kit’ll take pity and make some for Christmas dinner. He’s gotta be kind to the brand new parents right? Make up for the exhaustion with some gosh darn fuckin casserole." The casserole was just going to be a pleasant memory for the next handful of hours, troughs and peaks like this one obliterating everything else. He started the slow breathing, drawing Freyja in to smooth his hands up and down her spine, where he imagined the pain was coiling tight, like the knot of the lasso that had cinched itself around that heaving bump. The midwife was already setting down her stuff, setting up what else needed to be done as he pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring into the damp skin as he watched the clock over Freyja’s shoulder.

Closer. Bo was in a rush, like they wanted to join in on the dinner that was going to have to end up as leftovers for the three of them – if there were any. Theo brushed her hair back from her face as he eased back, nodding. ”Just over four. Looks like someone got their mama’s patience.” As long as they had their mom’s powers too, all would be perfect. At the midwife’s confirmation over the tub, Theo moved in to support Freyja into the tub. By the end of it he’d likely end up in there too, one big wet mess to clean up once this was done and he could see again through the tears. He would’ve settled there right at the head of it, drawing in the stool that’d been propped up beside the tub, but his wife wasn’t done. ”Any other orders?” he asked, grinning softly, as he pressed a kiss atop her head. ”No starting before I get back,” Theo shot over his shoulder. Like there was much chance of that.

A minute later he was back, bra in hand, stool dragged close. It wasn’t a snap of his fingers before Bo appeared though, it was cycles of the pain that seemed to grip the entire house along with his hands as Freyja clamped on. Each one growing shorter, until it felt almost as though they were one long ripple of pain and excitement. Theo braced himself at the edge of the pool as the midwife settled down on one side. ”This is it,” she announced. ”We’re going to push on the next one, Freyja. Get a good grip papa.” Like he had much choice in that. The tears were already gathering in Theo’s eyes as he let out a breathless little laugh. He sniffled, kissing Freyja’s shoulder as he braced his arms beneath hers. ”You ready to see our son?” he asked hoarsely. Oh she’d probably fight him on it, but he was as sure as he had been with Hazel. They were about to have one of each.

Tagged: FREYJA DAMASCA * Word Count: 1404