Chapter Text
Bruce loved Christmas, but every single year he forgot how exhausting it was. He knew it was his own fault. He liked to make a big deal of it. He hadn’t always. He used to not like Christmas at all as a child. It was full of so many concerts, and fan-meetups, and all the other celebrations that the trolls had during that time. By the time Christmas morning arrived he was tired, mad, and trying so hard to keep it in because he knew the little kids still loved Christmas so much, and he didn’t want to ruin the magic for them.
After leaving home there were a few years where he did his best to ignore the holidays. It was a little hard when he was staying on Vacay Island, where a lot of creatures went for their Holiday Vacations. Eventually Bruce had decided that he was done with letting his childhood influence the rest of his life, so he started to go to a few Vacaytioner Holiday events. And they were fun.
It was at one of these events that he met Brandy, and the rest was history.
When they started to have kids Bruce and Brandy had several serious conversations about what they wanted their holidays to look like. Trolls had a lot, like, a lot of holidays, and Vacaytioner culture was very similar, with almost every day being a vacation or holiday. Neither of them really wanted that for their family, because they agreed that so many fun days made them not as special. They wanted holidays that felt magical and amazing for their kids.
It took a lot of trial and error, but by now, after thirteen kids and so many years, they had it down to an art. The kids loved Christmas, looking forward to it all year, and Bruce did too. He started planning months in advance. He had a blast putting together holiday specials for the restaurant every single year. He had fun putting Christmas decorations up around the house. And then on Christmas Eve he stayed up all night putting up even more decorations and lights, just so he could see the awe and wonder in his kids’ eyes when they woke up the next day and saw the transformation.
Their family didn’t go all out. They had fun. They had traditions, but they didn’t let the thought of having a perfect Christmas get in the way of enjoying themselves. If the kids were stressed about any of the traditions, for whatever reason, Bruce would accommodate them. That was why some of his kids didn’t help decorate. They liked looking at the decorations, but they felt like it was overwhelming to do al lthe tidying and reorganizing and setting up. Some of the kids didn’t like doing caroling, or listening to the stories, and that was fine. Some of the kids loved giving each other Christmas presents, some of them just wanted to give presents if they happened to find the perfect thing, and some kids didn’t like giving presents at all, and Bruce let them do whatever they felt comfortable with. The holidays should be fun, especially for kids, and Bruce did everything he could to maintain that magic.
This year was going to be especially great, because the whole family was going to be there. They always did stuff with Brandy’s parents and siblings, but this was the first time Bruce's brothers would be joining them, and he couldn’t wait to host them. His brothers had had the same childhood Christmases as he did, and he wanted to show them what it could be. He wanted to share with them the magic of Christmas. And maybe a part of him hoped that if he had a good Christmas with his brothers then the lingering hurt in his heart would heal at least a little bit.
Bruce was excited for his brothers to come, but also absolutely terrified. Their relationships were better now than they’d ever been, but Bruce wasn’t stupid, or overly optimistic. Things weren’t completely fixed. That would take time. Time where they weren’t in a family crisis, or feeling the need to put on a happy face and not stir the waters. That was why he’d invited his brothers to come visit for the whole season, and he left it as an open invitation. If someone wanted to be there for a month, great! If they just wanted to be there for a few days for Christmas itself, fine. If they wanted to maybe pop in for a week or two at the start of the season, leave again, and then return for Christmas, cool. Whatever. Bruce didn’t really care. Whatever his family wanted to do, he wanted it too. It was amazing, and scary, when all of his brothers said they’d be there for a good amount of the holiday season.
John Dory wrote that he’d be happy to stay all month, and that if Bruce wanted any help with anything, he would be happy to pitch in. Clay said he could make it for three weeks or so. At first Branch had said he would try to show up a few days before Christmas, but in a follow-up letter he said that he’d come with Clay.
Floyd, weirdly, was the one who was hardest to get a solid answer out of. He had initially said that he’d be there for Christmas, as long as Bruce was sure that it was fine. Bruce had written back that it was more than fine, though the kids would be a little disappointed that they wouldn’t have more time to spend with him. Bruce hadn’t really meant to guilt his little brother into staying longer, but he’d gotten a letter back from Floyd, who said that if Bruce was really, really sure it was fine, he could stay a little longer.
The two of them went back and forth for far too long. If Floyd was Clay or Branch, Bruce would think that he didn’t really want to come and was just going to tolerate it. But this was Floyd, and the language in his letters made it clear that he was just worried about making more work for Bruce. It took a lot of reassurances that he wanted Floyd there, and a lot of promises that he’d let Floyd help out during the holidays, before his little brother agreed to be there all month.
Now the holidays were upon them, and, if John Dory’s letters were to be believed, he and Floyd were supposed to arrive today. Bruce was excited to see them, and he was sure that Brandy would appreciate him putting them right to work, but he was just a little nervous too. Which was ridiculous. It was just his brothers. Not even all of them. It was just John Dory, who was really easy to get along with when Clay wasn’t there to remind Bruce of all the problems he had with him, and Floyd, who was impossible to not get along with. This was going to be great.
Not perfect, because it didn’t have to be perfect. That wasn’t the point. And Bruce would need to make a mental note to remind himself, and probably John Dory, of that.
The restaurant wasn’t open today. Brandy had insisted. She knew that Bruce was worried about his brothers coming, and she wanted him to be able to focus on that, and she wanted to be available to support him. Bruce was a little embarrassed that she thought this was necessary, but he appreciated her too much to try to argue about it. This was just a family day.
Brandy had some coloring and quiet time with some of the kids. Bruce took this opportunity to do some stress-baking and share some of his recipes with some of his kids. Between cleaning up the flour that somehow got on every surface and trying to mediate arguments between the kids as they fought over who got to stir the frosting, Bruce lost all track of time. He almost forgot to be stressed about his brothers until he heard a knock on the door. Four or five kids ran so quickly to the front door, one would think the house was on fire. No, it was just the intense desire that kid’s had to be the first to open the door.
Bruce would love to leave his kids at it. Let them deal with John Dory and Floyd and get them settled. But his kids were excited and rambunctious, and also a lot bigger than their uncles were. Bruce may be a little nervous about his brothers, but he didn’t want them to get trampled by his kids. He sighed tiredly, left Freddy in charge of taking the cookies out of the oven when they were done, and he went to the door.
Cove and River were already pulling John Dory through the door, too excited about showing him around to remember to be careful. John Dory took it in stride, not seeming at all bothered about the kids’ strong grip on his arms. He just smiled in that charming way of his and engaged with the kids, listening to them and responding eagerly.
For someone who had been really bad with his kid brothers, he was apparently really good with his kid nephews. Bruce supposed that John Dory really had grown up after twenty years.
Trusting that his older brother could take care of himself Bruce turned his attention back to the door where Floyd was slowly walking in. Bruce frowned when he saw the way that his little brother was somewhat supporting himself against the wall. He didn’t look too good, and he didn’t think that the way that Windy and LaBreezey were crowding him, trying to touch his hair and asking a million questions a second, was helping.
Bruce brought his fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Windy and LaBreezey immediately stopped, turning towards him. Bruce didn’t like whistling at his kids, because they weren’t animals or pets and he hated doing anything that might imply that he thought they were, but his voice didn’t carry well on Vacay Island. If he needed to be heard he needed to be piercing. He just whistled like that to get his kids’ attention when he needed it at that very moment and not a second later.
“Guys, we’ve talked about touching people without asking first.” Bruce said gently, but firmly. “That goes for hugs. It goes for holding hands. It goes for tickling. And it definitely goes for touching hair.”
LaBreezey quickly turned back to Floyd, looking at him with wide eyes. He just stared right back at her, looking incredibly confused. Bruce hoped he was just not used to the rapid way kids could move sometimes, but he was worried this confusion was more than that. Consent wasn’t really something talked about often with boybands, and Floyd’s consent had definitely been violated when he was held by those Teenagers. For all Bruce knew, Floyd actually didn’t understand the concept of giving consent for casual, seemingly harmless things.
“Your hair’s so pretty.” LaBreezey said. “It looks soft. Can I touch it?”
“I…I guess?” Floyd said slowly and quietly. That was the most reluctant ‘I guess’ Bruce had ever heard.
“You can say no.” Bruce said. Floyd stared at him, one of his eyes hidden behind his hair. Was that a style choice, or had he lost mobility of that part of his hair? It had been months since they’d saved him, and Bruce was ashamed to admit that he didn’t really know.
Floyd narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he looked back at Windy and LaBreezey, who were just watching him patiently.
“M-maybe later.” Floyd said with a small smile. It was weird. Even after twenty years Bruce still recognized the cautious look in his eyes. His words and smile were hopeful, but his eyes showed the truth. He was scared, and he didn’t want to admit it. Bruce was ashamed to admit that even though as a kid he had always known that Floyd’s words didn’t reflect his real feelings, he didn’t always let himself look past the surface. He would see the performance that Floyd was putting on, and he would decide that he couldn’t be bothered to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it.
Well, Bruce wasn’t a teenager anymore, and he wasn’t going to be willfully ignorant anymore.
He started to step in to help his brother, forgetting for a moment that his kids were the ones that his brother was a little scared of. He could barely take a step towards Floyd before his kids backed off, because they understood that no means no. Bruce hadn’t needed to worry about anything.
Well, he hadn’t needed to worry about real danger. Floyd was physically okay, but there was still confusion and caution in his eyes. He was still upset, and Bruce knew that probably needed to be addressed. Though, maybe not in front of the kids. They barely knew Floyd, and Bruce knew that his brother wouldn’t want them to see how vulnerable he could be.
“Hey, kids, why don’t you guys go make sure the room for your uncles is all set up?” Bruce suggested. Floyd gave him an unimpressed look. He recognized this trick, because all of them had used it all the time as kids. They would ask their brothers to do a simple task to distract them from things going wrong. Bruce’s kids didn’t recognize this trick for what it was yet. They were just eager to be helpful. They raced to the bedroom, leaving Bruce with his little brother, who was still glaring at him.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Floyd said in that exasperated tone of his. He wasn’t a yeller. Bruce wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard Floyd raise his voice in his life. But the genuine fatigue in his voice when he was just done with a situation, and the sass he used when he was pushed too far definitely made up for it.
“Like what?” Bruce asked as he approached Floyd, offering his arm to him. Floyd looked at his arm like it had personally offended him.
“Like you think I’m either going to fall down or fall apart if you don’t help me.” Floyd said. Bruce lowered his arm.
“I’m just worried about you.” Bruce said. “I know my kids can be a lot.”
“They didn’t even do anything.” Floyd huffed. He pushed himself away from the wall, obviously trying to prove that he could stand on his own two feet, but his knees buckled and he would have fallen to the ground if Bruce didn’t reach out and catch him. Floyd hadn’t wanted his help, but he clung desperately to him now. Floyd’s mouth was thin and his hands shook as he glared furiously at the ground. Maybe Bruce wasn’t the one he was mad at.
“Are you doing okay?” Bruce asked quietly.
“I’m fine.” Floyd said tightly. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Bruce’s arm. “I-it’s just a bit of a rough day.” Bruce wasn’t convinced, and it must have shown on his face. Floyd gave him a shaky smile. “Really, it’s my own fault. I didn’t stretch enough this morning, and the ride over just kinda made it worse.”
Right. Rhonda. The critterbus took some getting used to. Especially if John Dory had used Hustle mode to get here.
“Is there something I can do to help?” Bruce asked. Floyd snorted and shook his head.
“Nah, it wears off.” Floyd said. The fact that he knew it wore off meant that he’d experienced it often enough to know how it worked. And this was the first that Bruce was hearing about it. How many bad days did Floyd have like this?
“Well, take it easy for a bit.” Bruce said. He adjusted his grip on Floyd, encouraging his brother to lean on him. He knew his brother wouldn’t be happy about it, but Floyd didn’t pull away from him. He let Bruce support him as they made their way through the house.
“So…how’ve you been doing?” Bruce asked. He wanted to know how Floyd’s recovery was going, but that wasn’t something he could just ask.
“Fine.” Floyd said simply, and that was that. He looked at the decorations around the house. “Wow. You guys go all-out for the holidays, don’t you?”
“Not really.” Bruce looked at the decorations. They had a tree in the living room, and some garland and lights in the hall, and maybe some little figurines on the occasional shelf, but that was it. It looked like Christmas, but it would hardly be a contender for a Christmas Card photo.
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” Floyd said quietly.
“So did I.” Bruce said. “Turns out I just didn’t like the way we celebrated it.”
“Oh.” Floyd said. Had he always not talked about what was on his mind? Bruce had always thought that Floyd wore his heart on his sleeve. These monosyllabic responses were odd, and somewhat concerning.
“What about you?” Bruce asked, because he wanted a longer answer from his brother. “What kinda stuff have you done for Christmas these past few years.” Floyd had always been the most excited of all of them to celebrate the holidays as a little kid. He was the kind of troll who wanted to start singing the songs and putting up the decorations two months in advance. If any of them went all-out for the holidays, it would have been Floyd. Bruce wanted to know what kind of traditions his little brother came up with. He wanted to know if there was anything he should include in their family celebrations, because he didn’t want Floyd to feel like he was missing out on anything.
Still, his brother’s ears drooped a bit and Bruce felt like he’d said something wrong. “I, uh, I haven’t really celebrated in a while.”
Bruce frowned. “I mean, you do you, bro. But, uh, just out of curiosity, how long is a while?”
He felt Floyd trembling again, and he didn’t know if he was nervous to answer or if he was physically pushing himself too much. Bruce didn’t know which situation was worse.
“Since, uh…” Floyd sighed. “Since the last time we celebrated as a family, I guess.”
Twenty years. Floyd loved Christmas, and he hadn’t celebrated in twenty years. It felt so wrong in so many different ways. This seemed like something that needed to be talked about, but Floyd looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
“Well, it’ll be nice to celebrate again together.” Bruce gave Floyd a reassuring smile, and maybe he was taking a step in the right direction because Floyd returned his smile, and it looked a little more sincere than before.
“Yeah.” Floyd said.
They got to the room where Bruce’s brothers would be staying. It was technically the little kids’ room, but everyone agreed to have the youngest kids stay in the other kids’ room for the month. It would be a good trial period for them. As the little kids got older Bruce wanted to stop rooming the kids just by age, because just because kids were close in age didn’t mean they would get along well. They didn’t have enough rooms for everybody to have their own. They needed to have three kids in a room, except the largest room, which had four. Even that would need to change when LaBreezey got older and would need privacy, but for now this was what they could do.
Age would be a factor when deciding rooms, but so would relationships, needs, and wants. It was something he would need to talk to all of his kids about, both as a group, and as individuals, because he and Brandy felt that it was important for kids to feel comfortable in their bedrooms.
But that was not a problem to try to figure out while Bruce’s brothers were here.
The furniture was too big for trolls, but not by too much. Bruce hoped it was okay. He brought Floyd to one of the beds so he could get off his feet. His brother needed a hand getting into the bed, because he struggled with climbing at the moment, but he got Floyd settled. Bruce had expected Floyd to just sit and make himself comfortable, but Floyd laid down, curled up, and looked like he was ready to go to sleep.
Well, if he needed a nap, who was Bruce to stop him?
“Take it easy, little bro.” Bruce said. Floyd hummed in acknowledgement, apparently already half asleep. He was exhausted. Bruce sighed and stepped back, only to bump right into John Dory.
“What happened?” John Dory asked.
“Dude, personal bubble.” Bruce gave him a gentle shove, just to put a little bit of space between them.
“Nothing happened, Johnny.” Floyd muttered from the bed without opening his eyes. “It was just a rough ride over.” John Dory looked alarmed and guilty, and Bruce couldn’t help but think ‘good’. He should feel guilty.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” John Dory asked, raising his voice just a little bit. As though this was Floyd’s fault. Bruce knew that wasn’t what John Dory was saying. He knew his older brother’s concern just came out in anger sometimes.
“He shouldn’t have had to.” Bruce couldn’t help but say irritably. “Why didn’t you notice?”
“Guys.” Floyd groaned in exhaustion that had nothing to do with fatigue. Bruce’s stomach sank with guilt, and John Dory looked like he felt the same. “We just got here. Can we just…not? For five minutes?”
John Dory rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, bro, we’ll tone it down.”
Floyd made a sound of clear disbelief as he rolled over. He didn’t believe them, and Bruce couldn’t blame him at all.
This wasn’t a very good sign for what the next month was going to look like. Bruce apparently couldn’t have one conversation with Floyd without making his brother put his walls up, and just forget about talking to John Dory.
But that was what they were here for. If they couldn’t figure things out, then they’d just let it fester for another twenty years. This was their chance to actually heal, not just slap a band-aid on things and pretend they were fine. And it was the start of the Christmas season. One of Bruce’s favorite times of the year. He wasn’t going to let a rocky start get in the way of him enjoying the holiday, or repairing his relationship with his brothers.
Bruce sat on one of the beds, giving John Dory a pointed look and patting the spot next to him. John Dory gave Floyd a concerned look before he went to sit next to Bruce.
“So, what’s the weirdest adventure you’ve ever been on?” Bruce asked. “I want to hear your weirdest story. If I’m not left wondering if you’re either lying to me or you had a really trippy experience, then I’ll be very disappointed.”
John Dory looked a little stunned at the request before he grinned broadly and jumped into a story that was, indeed, weird. It was unbelievable, but in a way that was hilarious instead of infuriating. It wasn’t long before Bruce was laughing, and Floyd rolled over to face them again and listen better.
Bruce knew this wouldn’t last. They’d fight again, but right now they just felt like brothers and friends, and that was all Bruce wanted from this.