Chapter Text
It’s December 12th, and Luke is freaking out at the skatepark, watching distantly as Willie fucks around on his skateboard.
“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Luke says for the fifth time in the last three minutes, sneakers scuffing against the asphalt.
Alex sighs, tugging an earbud out of his ear. “Dude, just ask her.”
“But she likes her family!” Luke whines. “Isn’t it weird to ask her over for Christmas if she likes her family? What if she thinks I’m making her… I dunno, choose?”
The holidays are a weird time for everyone in the band. They all have some sort of family baggage that always gets stirred up at around the same time Mariah Carey’s voice starts to dominate every store in existence. After all the ghost and Caleb drama was over, and the boys became tangible for good, it was technically pretty easy to re-enter life. Bobby saw fit to open his wallet to cover any sordid costs to their newfound existence—it seems guilt is useful on occasion. Emotionally… is another story. In the end, Luke moved back in with his parents twenty-five years too late, Alex crashes with Willie at his older-younger sister’s place, and Reggie still stays at the Molina’s.
Suffice it to say the holidays are… charged.
Not even Julie is spared—after all, she’ll never celebrate a Christmas with her mom again.
That’s kind of why Luke is so worried. Christmas is probably a totally different beast for her. He doesn’t want to make it harder. She hasn’t invited him to her Christmas plans at all. She didn’t last year either, but that was different. The Molinas didn’t go anywhere on the 25th, probably because they were feeling weird without Rose.
“The worst she can say is no,” Alex comforts him. “And, like, she won’t say it meanly. It’s Julie.”
“It’s so funny how Julie transforms Luke into you, Alex,” Reggie comments from his seat on the floor.
“Right? She makes him so anxious. It’s great.”
“Hey,” Luke protests. “Be nice to me.”
When Luke enters the Molina household a little later in the afternoon, it’s to the sound of singing. That isn’t questionable by itself—Julie is always singing these days—but the barely-pubescent voice joining her is certainly new to Luke’s ears.
“Con mi burrito sabanero voy camino de Belén,” Carlos cheers.
“Si me ven, si me ven, voy camino de Belén!” Julie responds giddily.
The two descend into silly-sounding tuki-tuki-tuki adlibs, and then together, they sing, “Apúrate mi burrito, ¡vamos a ver a Jesús!”
When Luke rounds the corner into the kitchen, he finds brother and sister elbows deep in bowls of cookie dough. The entire house smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and tropical Christmas music is playing from Julie’s speakers. Ray is out—something about videotaping a birthday party.
“Luke!” Julie exclaims. She looks like she wants to hug him but grimaces at her dough-covered hands instead. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ much. I got bored at the skatepark so I left early. Alex could watch Willie mess around there forever, so he’s still there. Reggie’ll be back soon, he went to catch a movie with Kayla. West Side Story, I think. What are you two up to?”
Carlos holds up his sticky hands. “We’re making our abuela’s Lechera-er, sweetened condensed milk cookies. There’s no recipe, just vibes.”
“Perfect cookies for today,” Julie agrees, gesturing down at her pendant. “It’s good ol’ Maria’s birthday, so…”
“Oh!” Luke exclaims. “Cool, I think.” His family was never especially religious, they just followed the motions that everyone else did. They sure as hell never went to Mass—that was always more of Alex’s family thing for the sake of appearances.
To be fair, the Molinas don’t go to Mass either. But the motions they go through are definitely done in fuller faith than Luke ever remembers doing himself. They even get silly with it—they have bedazzled crosses, after all.
“Cool,” Julie echoes sarcastically. She juts out her chin toward the opened flour tag to her left. “D’you mind helping out? Add some flour to the bowl—slowly, please.”
Luke obeys. His mom always taught him baking was a science not to be trifled with, but there’s something magical about the Molina kitchen where experimentation is encouraged and rewarded. Carlos wasn’t lying when he said the recipe was pure vibes—there’s no measuring cup in sight. Alex would have a conniption. Julie and Carlos incorporate the flour into the mix, and Julie seems satisfied with the texture she’s working with.
Carlos presents her with a pair of cookie cutters—a Christmas tree and a gingerbread man—so when Julie rolls out the dough, she puts them in Luke’s hand. They fill four baking sheets with little trees and men, but Julie’s nose is wrinkled by the end of it like she doubts it’ll be enough.
She’s probably right. With Reggie and Carlos in the same house, any meal can be demolished with enough time.
“Tía is coming over with her family later,” Julie frowns once all the cookies are baked, cooled, and stored in a big bowl. “Do you think that’s enough cookies for everyone?”
“She’ll probably make buñuelos,” Carlos argues.
“Okay, okay,” Julie relents, finally pausing her Christmas music. “Then I guess we’re done. Leave, hermanito.”
Oh, God, Julie has an extended family she celebrates the holidays with.
Luke is kidding himself, isn’t he?
Carlos sticks his tongue out while he leaves, making kissy noises as he jogs upstairs. “Be good!”
Julie rolls her eyes but finally gives Luke her full attention. She leans into him, pressing her forehead against his collarbone, and goes a little limp. Luke wraps his arms around her immediately, and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla is even stronger like this.
“If we’re lucky, Tía will bring some coquito,” Julie murmurs. “It’s basically Puerto Rican eggnog but without eggs and a billion times better. You like coconut, right?”
“Yep.”
“Then yeah, you’ll love it. It’s spiked, too.”
“Sweet.”
He could just ask. He should just ask.
“What are you guys doing for Christmas?” Luke manages, burying his nose in Julie’s hair. She can probably feel his accelerated heartbeat, but that isn’t too incriminating. It’s always like that around her.
Julie hums. Luke feels the vibrations through his entire body, and it’s just—nice. He couldn’t do it like this a year ago. Only after a show, and they were always on a time limit. But now he can do it all the time whenever he wants, and it makes holding her feel all the more precious.
“My family in Arizona are coming up! That’s always exciting. On the actual day, we’re having family breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Tía’s,” Julie says. “It’s, like, a full day thing. We’ll watch movies, talk, and cook together, y’know? Family stuff. We didn’t do that last year since it was the… first one after Mom died, but we’re ready to do a real Christmas again.”
“Oh,” Luke’s heart sinks, which is not the ideal physical response after Julie sounds so determined. “That’s cool. Are all three of Victoria’s kids going to be there?”
“Yep!” Julie pulls back, suddenly excited. “And my Tío, his wife, and their two daughters. They’re the family in Arizona. And, Bellito is definitely bringing his girlfriend—I can’t wait to meet her! I follow her on Instagram and she’s so cool. She’s going to be a nail tech, and I was thinking I could probably go to her for any manicures I want before shows…”
She babbles a bit about her cousins and who they may or may not bring to Christmas. Luke’s heard all the gossip before, but he likes hearing Julie talk, so he doesn’t mention it.
“…but, yeah. We wait ‘til midnight to open gifts, so that’ll be nice. Too late to come home, though, so we usually sleep in their living room. We’ll probably be out of their hair by noon on the 25th.”
“Makes sense,” Luke says distantly before processing what Julie said. “Wait—noon on the 25th?”
Julie blinks. “Uh, yes?”
“I thought you just said Christmas was a full-day thing,” Luke frowns.
Julie’s eyes widen in sudden understanding. “Oh! Sorry, sorry. It is, it’s just that we celebrate on the 24th, not the 25th. Nochebuena, y’know?” She gestures at the Molina Christmas tree—topped with a bright red poinsettia flower instead of a traditional star. Nochebuena. The Good Night.
“Oh,” Luke says smartly and a little stunned. “Why?”
Julie shrugs. “We just always have. It’s, like, a Latino thing. Here, lemme Google.”
After a few minutes, Julie produces her answer. “It always comes back to Jesus,” she sighs. “Basically, according to the holiday, Jesus was born at midnight. His birthday is on December 25th, but the actual… process… all happened on the 24th. So that’s the day that we celebrate the most and why we stay up ‘til midnight to open presents.”
Luke takes that in.
“So that means you’re free on the 25th,” Luke clarifies.
“Yes.”
Okay. Awesome. Julie’s family being Mexican and Puerto Rican just solved, like, all of his problems.
Which means now he has to do it.
Luke braces himself.
“Do you want to have dinner with my parents on the 25th?”
Julie stares at him straight into his soul for a few silent seconds before her face breaks into a smile. He mirrors it, glee bubbling in his chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her, kissing him between each word of her answer: “I’d love to. Do you want to have dinner with my family on the 24th?”
Luke is fine being pulled wherever Julie goes. When she gives him the chance, he echoes, “I’d love to.”