Chapter Text
Christman, Chanukah, Yule, whatever. It all sucked ass. At least, in his unchallenged opinion. Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration. Sure, some people have challenged his opinion, but once he opened his mouth and spoke his truth, no one questioned why he hated the winter so much. What were they going to do? Pity the foster kid more? Say they’ll donate to Toys For Tots? Whatever they do, it won't change the reason why he hates Christmas. Their little charity donations don’t even really matter in the long run. They’ll just write it off on their taxes and then go about their day.
There are a lot of events that happen around Christmas for fosters. Tommy’s been in the government’s hands for long enough to know so. Each year, on the first Saturday of December, there were always adoption events. They would parade all the fosters around like dogs and beg people to adopt these “poor and lonely kids” or foster them for the holidays. And every year, without fail, Tommy was always back at the group house when Jolly Saint Nick was supposed to come around.
True, they did get presents. Each kid got to choose a new jacket or pair of shoes, or, if they’re lucky, someone at the mall adopted their letter and bought them their Christmas. Tommy stopped sending letters when he turned 12. He never really got anything anyways. The last time someone had actually adopted his letter had been when he was 7. It was a fluke, but sure, it had put a tiny bit of faith into his heart. Granted, the hope was crushed after years of depression, but it’s the thought that mattered.
But either way, even if he complained so much, he still had to attend the adoption event. Again, just like the years prior, the park was decorated with booths and games. All the foster kids had free admission to any games and free food. Lights wrapped the trees, and even though it was day, the lights twinkled like ice. The annual ice skating rink was once again up and open to the public. There were several stands selling hot chocolate, funnel cake, pies, or other baked goods. A loud gong rang over the cheerful music whenever someone was taken home for the holidays. There were smiles, laughter, and red noses.
Jealousy nagged at his stomach. Even though Tommy didn’t want to go home with some stranger for the holidays, he did want to be happy like the children that ran along the vendors. Instead, Tommy sat at a bench, a warm, but worn, red jacket wrapped around him, black gloves, and a beanie over his ears. He watched the event, trying to not show that he was a foster, but the bright gold band on his wrist showed he was a part of the stock of kids.
There was a sigh beside him before a person crashed down onto the bench he was currently occupying. Tommy snapped his head over, hiding the gold band by pushing his hand into his pockets. The man, who, at least to Tommy’s perspective, looked just as amused to be there as he was, “Geez, this place is really dangerous with all these little brats running around.”
Tommy bristled at that, glaring at the man. The man was wearing a beanie and what looked like a much more expensive, and much warmer, jacket. He looked exhausted, but Tommy didn’t sympathize with him, “Maybe look out where you’re going, or leave .”
“Can’t,” the man responded, seemingly unbothered by Tommy’s aggressive tone. “My dad wants to adopt another kid. I think it’s a horrible idea, yet my brother says Dad’s just suffering from empty nest syndrome.”
Tommy rolled his eyes and looked away from the man. He feels bad for whatever child has to call this poor excuse a brother. Either, they will be loved to the point of helicopter parenting, or they will be ignored and in shadow of the other biological children. Tommy stops himself from speaking some not so nice words by taking a swig of his hot chocolate. After swallowing, he chooses a polite way to put his thoughts into words, “Perhaps, try and convince him otherwise. Or, get a way to make the kid go back. That’s usually what bio kids do to fosters, anyways.”
As soon as the last word left his mouth, he cringed. He just sold his secret to the brunette beside him. Fuck. Instead of waiting for a response, he got up off of the bench and walked away, depositing the empty hot chocolate into the trash. He wasn’t an animal who littered. What he didn’t hear though, was the running of steps after him. He only noticed once his arm had been grabbed by the other man.
“I didn’t mean to offend!”
Tommy turned, pulling his arm out of the man’s grasp. His usual neutral expression turned sour as he glared at the man. “Perhaps, you don’t call my siblings brats then. Piss off.”
The crunch of snow and the lyrics of ‘ The Christmas Song ’ was all he heard as he walked away. That bastard was right up his own ass. Calling fosters brats? While at a foster event? It was like he was asking to be called out for his actions. The audacity of some people. It really soured his mood even more. Perhaps he should go and make sure that no kid gets placed there. But, he didn’t get the man’s name. His description wouldn’t help much considering there are hundreds of people in the park indulging in the festivities.
‘ Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, ’
Tommy passed a fire pit, pausing as he watched a kid smiling with a mom. They were making smores. The mother had been turning the marshmallow over the fire while the child prepared graham crackers and chocolate bars. There was a laugh as another kid bit into an already made smore. A part of Tommy melted as he watched the kids enjoy themselves. They deserve it. And, a part of him hoped that they did meet their forever homes here. It’s just not for him.
‘ Jack Frost nibbling at your nose, ’
Tommy turned away, walking with his hands in his pockets as he went to the center of the festivities. Eventually, everyone would come for a show of A Christmas Carol . It was put on by a group of the fosters who had a great talent for the arts. Sniff, a protege in anything arts, had made most of the props and the scenes! Another two Tommy was good friends with, Grian and Mumbo, were playing two of the three ghosts, and Deo, Tommy’s best friend, was playing Scrooge! He didn’t want to miss it.
‘ Yuletide carols being sung by a choir, ’
But, before he went to the amphitheater, Tommy headed over to the small bakery stand. It was filled with different pies, custards, muffins, and all sorts of festive sweets. He could practically smell the cloves and cinnamon over the smell of other stands. The stand was being run by his favorite bakery, The Rosethorn. It was owned by a lovely lady who loved to bake, but she recently became quite ill years ago. Granted, she hadn’t baked for the shop in years. The lady was 76 and well into a much needed retirement. However, rumor was that the lady’s daughter had found the owner’s old recipe book. One recipe was her famous pumpkin pie. That’s what Tommy was there for.
‘ And folks dressed up like Eskimos, ’
When it was his turn, Tommy smiled at the man behind the bar, “Um..could I have a slice of your pumpkin pie? And an apple danish?”
“Oh yes! And are you a foster?”
Tommy nodded, showing his wrist that had the gold band around it. A few moments later, he was the proud owner of an apple danish and the most delicious pumpkin pie in the world. He wasn’t the owner much longer as his stomach soon claimed it. Nothing like sweets to win the way to his heart. A small smile graced his face as he walked to the amphitheater. He looked down at the danish in his hand, unfurling it and leaning down to take a bite. Just as he did this, he didn’t notice the man in front of him stop walking.
‘ Everyone knows a turkey and some mistletoe, ’
Tommy nearly dropped his danish, but managed to clutch it to his chest to keep it from hitting the dirt. Keeping his head low, Tommy did not want to look like an embarrassment to the people around him. He quickly muttered an apology and expected the harsh yell from the adults around him. Instead, he felt a hand on his shoulder and a warm response, “You’re perfectly fine, mate. I should apologize for stopping so suddenly.”
‘ Help make the seasons bright, ’
Tommy looked up, but didn’t have to lift his head all that much as he looked down at a shorter man. The man had bright blue eyes, much like his own, and bright blonde hair. The similarities were shocking, but they ended there. Where Tommy’s chin jutted out a bit, the man’s seemed to be more in line with his jaw. Tommy’s face was much longer and the man’s was more rounded. But, Tommy did take note of the crow’s feet on the corners of the man’s eyes. A smiley fellow. Still, Tommy bit his lip and kept his eyes low. A red blush came on his face.
“I didn’t mean to bump into you, Mister,” Tommy said meekly and let out a nervous laugh. This man didn’t deserve the outburst the other had gotten. “I am sorry. I wasn’t exactly watching where I was going to be completely honest.”
The man removed his hand from teen’s shoulder, almost making Tommy miss the tiny bit of warmth it brought to his heart. “That’s quite alright. I am just glad you didn’t end up hurt. That’s what matters.”
Oh gods! Why did he have to sound so genuine? Tommy needed this man to turn back around and not give him any mind! There were other children this man would want more than the destructive and less…Tommyish. So, in Tommy fashion, he brushed past the man with a simple, “Whatever.”
‘ Tiny Tots with their eyes all aglow, ’
Tommy pushed past the line, showing his wristband to the woman who was selling tickets and made his way into the amphitheater. There was a little section where the smaller foster children could sit up at the front and then the other fosters sit behind them. However, even as much as Tommy would like to, the section was small. So, Tommy chose to sit near the back and leave plenty of room for other fosters. He would rather other people have the opportunity to watch the show than him. He had been to enough practices to know the entire script word for word.
‘ Will find it hard to sleep tonight, ’
He didn’t expect the amphitheater to be filled to the brim with people. He underestimated how many people were actually going to be at the festival. The concrete benches slowly filled up with people, some fosters even sitting with the families they were hoping to be taken home with. Just as Tommy was getting comfortable and ready for the show to start, he heard the two familiar voices. Looking to his right, Tommy saw them. Dickass and the overly nice man. There was no way that the nice man was Dickhead’s fath-
“Dad! That’s him!” the bastard pointed right at Tommy making him go bright red. Quickly, he turned his head around as if he wasn’t already caught.
‘ They know that Santa’s on his way, ’
The two filter over to him, obviously trying to act like they didn’t just shout and point at him. Though, it was quite easy to notice their fumblings. Tommy just stuffed his hands in his pocket, apple danish forgotten on his lap as he just tried to ignore the two approaching adults. A part of him hoped that they weren’t exactly talking about him. Maybe the dick was talking about another kid in his direction. Tommy looked to his left, trying to spot another foster, maybe Foolish, or even Moo? But, luck seemed to turn a blind eye as he felt a familiar warm hand on his arm.
“Hey mate, mind if we sit here?” the kind man from before asked with Dickhead right beside him. Tommy only nodded, trying not to speak. He had a tendency to start and never stop talking.
‘ He’s loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh, ’
Tommy looked over with a glare. There wasn’t much seating as the amphitheater was quite small, but Tommy knew that there were other seats open. However, it seemed this small family had decided to make this his problem. He huffed, turning his head from the man as a silent acknowledgement, or more so like a dismissal. Still, the two made themselves quite comfortable right next to him. The two muttered to themselves, mentioning something about a brother, adoption, and something about Dickhead’s refusal to have another sibling. They continued to talk to each other as Clementine, one of the teens in the program, began the pre-show monologue.
‘ And every mother’s child is going to spy, ’ the carol faded away as the speakers connected to the mics on the children’s costumes.
A sigh came from his right before Dickhead looked over at him. It was obvious by his expression he did not agree with whatever his father had told him. However, he proceeded to gain Tommy’s attention, “Kid, I want to apologize for calling your foster friends brats.”
“First, I am not a kid. Second, they are my siblings. Third, shut up. The play is starting,” Tommy hissed to the man as he kept his eyes forward. Honestly, he didn’t care that much about the play, but he rather not have his siblings’ moments ruined by a talkative adult.
“Okay, but-”
Tommy huffed and looked at him with a piercing glare and a single finger over his lips, “Shush.” With that being said, he turned back around, moving slightly away and shoving his hand back into his pocket. Gods. There was nothing more he hated than adults who did not listen. Perhaps he never passed his grade school classes. It would make sense why he had such a problem with his listening skills. But, to Tommy’s dismay, Dickhead only huffed and turned back to his father to argue.
Tommy watched as the kids moved around the scene props as Clem finished their monologue. For the small amount of funding they had, Sniff really pulled together the scraps to make something beautiful. Even from as far away as he sat, he could see the intense detail they had taken on the stones around the windows. Even the painted holly and garland across the fake fireplace looked real. Tommy knew that they had an amazing eye for art, but her talent amazed him everyday. Tommy made sure to tell Sniff about how amazing their art is.
The play continued smoothly. Charles, though he liked Poodwattle more, had created quite masterful costumes for each actor. They were the eldest of the group, being 17, and nearly ready to age out. His skills really didn’t disappoint. Even though it was hard to see from so far away, Tommy had seen the costumes up close, even helping out where he could. The teen could tell Pood’s stitches were from years of practice. Considering everything was hand stitched, Tommy was surprised that the entire play was able to go on. There might have been several sleepless nights before the big event. Granted, this was the biggest the Adoption event had ever gotten.
A small smile fell over his face as he watched his siblings act out the play. They really were so talented. It was a shame that many of them were merely placed for the holidays and then returned like an unwanted present. He knew how it haunted the nightmares of many of the older kids. It haunted him too. Though, he couldn’t say that the foster program of L’Manburg was bad, per say. In fact, it was one of the best in the UK. The workers really did try their hardest getting good placements for the kids, even pitching in their own paychecks to help with productions like the play. If it weren’t for this program, Tommy would have already skipped town with his closest brothers. He was lucky, really.
“I just don’t understand why you want to adopt again, Phil,” it was Dickhead again. While it was a whisper, Tommy could still hear him in the quiet stands. “Aren’t you happy enough with me and Tech?”
“You know I want to offer as many children a happy home,” the blonde man, Phil he presumed, kept his voice low as he whispered back to the bastard. “Besides, you and Techno are never home. So, it is a great opportunity to welcome another child into a forever home.”
Tommy bristled as Dickhead began to raise his voice, “We aren’t never home-”
“Will the two of you shut it?” Tommy snapped, anger bristling underneath his skin. Gods, he’s told these two to shush twice now. Couldn’t they just get the point and quiet their traps. It was a goddamn play for fuck’s sakes. “If you want to be a fucking nuisence, do it outside the ampitheater.”
Tommy gave them both a death glare as the Ghost of Christmas Present started their own monologue to Scrooge. The two of them looked over at Tommy, Phil looking a bit guilty as Dickhead glared back with the same energy. It was starting to get on Tommy’s nerves. He hated this damn event. He hated being treated like a toy only to be disposed of once the adults had realized that he is too much of a spitfire to handle. He hated coming back seeing the defeated and tired faces of his siblings. In fact, he tried so hard to avoid being taken home for the holidays to the point he was snappish to anyone. Granted, he was typically a dick during these times considering it was his least favorite time of the year.
There was a reason he had been in the program for so long. While, yes, Poodwattle was 17 and aging out in a few months, Poodwattle hadn’t been in the program as long as Tommy. L’Manburg wasn’t a huge town, but Tommy had spent nights in random homes scattered throughout. He had been in and out of group homes for ten years. So, while Poodwattle had seniority in age, Tommy had seniority in time. Tommy had seen kids come and go, which means he knew exactly which type of kid didn’t get picked. He molded his personality to fit the glove so that he could stay amongst those kids. Him snapping at the two sitting beside him was not out of that mold.
It sent a small bit of glee through his body as he watched the Dickhead move to get up. The teen watched the other walk out of the stone risers before turning his attention back to the play. For the remainder of the time, there were no more interruptions. It was relaxing being able to watch his siblings put on the production they poured all their free time and lots of their own allowances into. So, as the cast came out behind the temporary curtains, he couldn’t help but stand and cheer! He didn’t notice as Phil left the stands.
Though, what followed was his least favorite. Ms. Puffy, the head of the program in L’Manburg, walked out on the stage and called all the fosters to the front of the stage. This is where it really began to feel like an auction. Each child was called out and listed their traits and whether or not they had been chosen by a foster. Most kids know if they had been chosen or not, but the whole ordeal was embarrassing. It made him feel more like a piece of meat than a human. But, the program says it’s how they gauge if the event was a hit or not.
Tommy sulked to the front and stood beside Poodwattle who was still in his costume. He leaned back on the stage, crossing his arms and scanning over the amphitheater. His eyes caught Phil’s who was just returning to the stands. When had he left? Tommy frowned and continued to look. This happened to be the best time to catch the fosters who seemed unfit to foster. He would then keep an eye out if they would be fostering a child for the holidays and then consult the kid whom they chose. It was a tactic that he had done for years.
“Before we begin, I want to thank you all for joining us for the twenty-seventh annual Holiday Foster-thon! Much like last year, I want to thank our gracious donors who helped us put on this event and continue to fund us throughout the year,” a round of applause followed Puffy’s statement. She paused, a smile on her face as she waited for the applause to settle. “I also want to have a round of applause for our talented children who put time and their allowances into this wonderful production,” another pause.
“Now, for the main reason we have all gathered here on this gorgeous day, the Foster-thon! For those who have never participated in this event before, each year we host this event so that our wonderful children have a happy home during the holidays. This arrangement has helped find many permanent homes for children in the past with a 76% success rate!” Puffy paused once more as applause ran through the open air. However, she failed to mention that the rate was mainly because the smaller children were adopted more so than the older children, such as himself – even though he is not a child.
“Today, we have thirty-two children up for fostering. We will start with the youngest age group. First up is Isabella, a two year old bundle of joy…”
Tommy began to tune out Puffy’s voice as he turned to Poodwattle, “What is your guess for this year?”
“Hmm, I’d say that younger kids will be scooped up like gold. I think Clem is going to that family over there,” the teen gestured to a seemingly normal family. It looked like a lesbian couple with another child beside them. Usually, the gayer the couple, the nicer they tended to be. Good.
Speaking of the devil, Clem looked over at them with a knowing grin, “Oh is that so Poods? Well I think that Sniff is going to be fostered by that dude over there.” They gestured over to a man who had blonde hair and a scruffy beard, if you could call it that. “I saw them talking up a storm with him before the calling time for rehearsal.”
And, much like Clem had been clued into the conversation, Snifferish rolled their eyes before turning to look at them, “Well, I can 100% bet that Tommy will be back at the group home when we leave.”
“I dunno,” Clementine sang and shrugged. “It seemed that he caught a few eyes this year.”
“Gods, as if!” Tommy groaned. “You know better than to threaten me like that, Clem. We all know that I’ll be back before Christmas if that were to happen.”
Poodwattle scoffed, “Because of your-”
“Tommy-touch,” the other two joined in with Charles as they spoke. Immediately after being in sync, the three attempted to stifle laughter. Tommy grew red and elbowed them to stop as he saw the group catching the attention of a few closer families.
Tommy rolled his eyes and glared at the small group of his closest siblings. “Gods, you all are insufferable.”
“Well, you do have a record, Toms,” Sniff spoke as they leaned on Clem’s shoulder. “We’re only speaking facts.”
Tommy opened his mouth to slander Sniff’s name but was stopped as a worker in the audience glared at the four with her index finger on her closed lips. He closed his mouth and crossed his arms. They had apparently gotten a bit too loud with their conversation. Wouldn’t want to accidentally ruin the chances of his siblings getting to go to their ‘forever home.’ What a load of shit. Whatever happiness his siblings brought him was crushed under the stern foot of that worker.
As Tommy tried to go back to tuning out Ms. Puffy, she started with Sniff. Had the other kids already been picked? He looked over and checked, and sure enough, the row of what was thirty-two children was now seven. He didn’t even hide his surprise. Geez, this had to be some kind of record.
He tuned back in as Puffy finished Sniff’s biography, “And, this year, and hopefully last, Sniff will be celebrating Christmas with the Seapeekay Family!”
Being polite, he hugged Sniff but only to whisper in their ear, “You know where to find me if something goes wrong. Merry Christmas, Sniff. I hope it does go well.”
The teen smiled at him as they hugged, even though he couldn’t see it, “I will always let you know, Toms. I’ll be back by New Years, just like every year.”
They separated and the other two got their hugs in before they walked over to the man. Tommy watched carefully. In past events, usually the fosters would go back to the group home for a few days while paperwork was finalized and the foster homes were inspected. But, after past events, only foster homes who have already passed the inspection can adopt. It still made Tommy uneasy as he wouldn’t be able to see his friend for the holidays.
“Up next, we have Thomas Innet, a 16 year old male who goes by he/him pronouns. Thomas is known around the group home as one of the kinder kids, though his personality can be quite defensive at first. He has spent the last three Christmases at the group home, however,” ‘Oh gods, no…’ “this year, Thomas will be spending the holidays with the Craft family!”
He froze. No. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Gods, he was supposed to spend the holidays around the fake fireplace furnace with Poodwattle and Clem as they opened their gifts to each other just like the years past. That’s how it always went. A warm hand shocked him out of the mini panic attack he was having. The hand turned into a hug as Clem squeezed him tight.
“Hey, you’ll be back before Christmas Eve. Don’t worry and just entertain this family,” Clem whispered her words of encouragement as they held onto his much taller frame. “Try to enjoy it, please.”
Tommy wrapped his arms around Clem’s smaller frame. He buried his nose in the girl’s bushy hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He welcomed the hug as he struggled to keep his tears down. “Clem, Clem, I can’t go.”
“I know, I know, but you can do it. You’ll be home soon…”
It had been three years for a reason, and he wasn’t about to repeat it.
They separated, and if a tear fell from Tommy’s face, he would never admit to it. He turned from his friend, giving another hug – though significantly shorter – to Poodwattle before looking over the crowd. And then he saw him.