Chapter Text
The concept of Christmas was not entirely lost on the Unholy Church of Satan. Usual styled as Yule celebrations, it was a time at which much merriment was invited into the halls of the abbey. Mistletoe was hung, trees were decorated in a traditional Tanenbaum styles, including using candles over string lights. Greenery wound its way round banisters and railings and carols were even sung, though they featured hymns of reverence towards the Uncreator and not to little baby Jesus.
Present giving was also a tradition that wound its way into the festivities along with steaming cups of mulled wine and hot chocolate. It was just about the one time a year when Copia felt he could get away with squirrelling away a generous portion of his personal budget to spend absolutely spoiling his ghouls. He tried so hard to keep a lid on it all year, but Yule was the one time when he felt he could lavish them with gifts and not have any other clergy member bat an eye. Sister Imperatour had had words with him more times than she could count over his reckless Yuletide frivolity, and after seven consecutive years of him doing it anyway, she conceded she’d have to simply turn a blind eye for this one irritating personality quirk.
It was then, on the morning of the 25th December that Copia made his way into the ghoul den with a small wagon full of presents. Most ghouls were already up and milling about, mostly still pyjama-clad and cheeks rosy with mid-morning day drinking.
“Papa!” Aether bellowed, announcing his arrival with a warm hug and words a couple of decibels over what could safely be considered an “indoor voice”. Copia could smell the brandy on him and grinned to himself, happy in the knowledge that his usually straight-talking, clear-headed ghoul was taking some much needed time to relax and let loose. Glancing around at his packmates, Copia felt quite sure the others were doing the same. Lazy greetings of “good morning” and “happy Yule, Papa,” echoed around the man as he was welcomed into the warm lounge.
The den was decorated much as the rest of the abbey, though the youngest of the ghouls seemed to have taken it upon themselves to cover the tree in enough tinsel to rival the majesty of the Prince himself. It being their first Yule, both Phantom and Aurora were forgiven for losing it a little in the chaos. Papa smiled warmly as he caught sight of the two youngsters laid out by the fire. Dew sat cross-legged with them, his hand outstretched, fingers snaking through the flame as if it were a pet.
The others, though the whole pack was not yet present, busied themselves with setting Copia up with a large plate of breakfast meats—regardless of whether he’d asked for it—and a flute of fresh champagne. Rain, yawning through his fingers, immediately curled up at his side, sighing into the warmth that Copia offered.
“Happy Yule, Papa,” the water ghoul murmured, lazily picking a few grilled mushrooms from Copia’s plate.
“Happy Yule, my Rain,” Copia whispered back before pressing a soft kiss into the top of the water ghoul’s silken hair.
The next hour passed in warm comfort. Mountain had busied himself unloading the quite frankly ridiculous pile of presents from Copia’s wagon and arranging them neatly under the tree. There was at least one for each ghoul, if not two. Even the oldest amongst the pack had been thought about, though for ghouls like Alpha, it was fairly obvious that the bottle shaped wrapping contained the ghoul’s favourite bourbon. Phantom and Aurora both looked on in wonder as Mountain dumped out a literal pile of individually wrapped stocking fillers just for them. He chuckled as he watched Papa eyeing up their reactions. The man just couldn’t help himself when it came to his ghouls and the look of absolute wonder that followed. The earth ghoul remembered his own first Yule fondly, he had suddenly become very rich in gardening tools and seed packets.
“Right,” Mountain announced after Phantom stuck a curious claw into the wrapping of one of his gifts for the forth time. “One round of helping me get the kitchen straightened out and then presents.”
What followed was a distinct grumbling and groaning, but dutifully, each ghoul hoped up from their various stations to do their bit. Though the clergy generally put on a grand Yule feast for all, Mountain couldn’t help himself from roasting a large ham and several other meats for the coming days and had practically been glued to the stove since dawn. It had become a firm tradition in the ghoul wing for the pack to lock themselves away over Yule and eat themselves silly over Mountain’s cooking; and judging by how much the earth ghoul was getting them to clean up, no ghoul would be going hungry for a while.
Once order had been returned, and the last few ghouls had traipsed in, Aether helped Mountain dole out shots of brandy and other warming liquors. One by one, the ghouls settled themselves around the lounge, eager to receive their gifts. Phantom and Aurora tore into their assortment of packages with fanatical energy, squealing at the reveal of each present and gift, no matter the size. Aurora nearly burst into tears when she unwrapped a delicate bottle containing a perfume she’d been coveting ever since she smelled it on one of the sisters of sin. By the time his presents were open, Phantom had surrounded himself with a small army of bat related clothing, toys, and books; each of which was instantly treasured. The other ghouls exchanged gifts with a little less fervour, but just as much gratitude. Copia watched in intense satisfaction as each of his ghouls found joy in their offerings. He was by no means left out, however. Many of the ghouls, wise to his generosity, returned their gratitude with gifts of their own. By the end of the whole affair, the frontman had at least three bottles of fine wine, a delicately hand crocheted scarf, new clothes, and homemade throat lozenges meant to soothe the voice after hours of overuse in the studio. As he looked out at his family and their content expressions, Copia counted himself one hell of a lucky man.
As the initial hype of the gift giving started to wind down, the pope excused himself to go grab one final present. This one he presented to Dewdrop, who had already contented himself their the new sweater he had received.
“What’s this?” the fire ghoul asked, his tail swishing lazily across the floor.
“Just one final gift for my favourite,” Copia said, crouching slightly to plant a gentle kiss between Dew’s horns.
“We all know he’s your favourite, Papa, but you’re not supposed to say it out loud,” Cirrus whined as Cumulus scratched her claw against her favourite spot just behind her ear. There was a smattering of laughter amongst the ghouls. It was no secret that Copia had a rather large soft spot for Dew and—considering the guilt Copia still carried for all that had happened to Dewdrop while under the ministry’s roof—no one admonished him.
“Jealousy’s a bad look on you, Cir,” Dew hissed, humour lacing his words. “It’s not his fault he has excellent taste.”
Copia couldn’t help the colour that spread over his cheeks and tried to pretend that he at least had some secrets he could keep from the pack. He cleared his throat and held a delicately wrapped parcel out to Dew. The fire ghoul received his gift with reverence as the package was placed in his arms.
“It’s only something silly, but it was made for you I think.”
Dew wasted no time in carefully removing the wrapping on his present and found himself staring back at a delicately crafted nutcracker. It was instantly clear to Dew that this was no mass produced Christmas ornament. Everything from the carving of the features to the delicate, visible brushstrokes of the painted body told Dew that this was hand made and one of a kind. Instead of the traditional red guard’s uniform, this figurine had been painted in the style of the ghoul’s Impera uniforms, right down the golden clasps of the waist coats. Its hat remained in the usual guard’s style, but two tiny goggles reminiscent of the ghoul’s helmets sat affixed to the brim. Soft, short, white hair peaked out from under the hat and two purple eyes softly gazed out at Dew.
“Wait! It’s Aether!” he exclaimed.
“Yes!” Copia clasped his hands, thrilled that Dew had made the connection so quickly.
“It’s what?” Aether asked, getting up from his seat and padding over to where Dew sat sprawled out on the floor. A thick grin spread over his lips when he too recognised the likeness. “Well I’ll be damned. What a handsome fellow. Copia, should I be worried you’re walking around with miniature versions of me?”
Copia laughed and shook his head. “My apologies, Aether. I saw a young fan selling it on Etsy and I couldn’t resist.” He glanced round at the others. “I’m afraid they only had an Aether. I did send them a message along with my order urging them to make more in the future so if I see a Rain or Mountain, you’ll be the first to know. For now, enjoy your likeness in wood.”
Unfortunately for Dew and Aether, Copia had innocently opened the floodgates for endless ragging with that one statement.
Cirrus got them kicked of with “he gets stiffer than you, Aeth”, and Swiss, eyes gleaming with mischievous intent, followed up by voicing his concern for Dew’s balls. When the Dew dared to ask why the multi ghoul was suddenly worried for his junk, he simply quipped, “well he’s a nutcracker, duh?” Unfortunately for Aether, the pack very quickly took to calling him Nutty for short.
Once a good ten minutes of teasing had elapsed and Dew had finally turned his trademark shade of irate red, Mountain finally steered the pack’s attention to afternoon mass. Copia had already sheepishly taken off to get into his vestments and paint and the ghouls, not one to pass on the good communion wine that was passed out at Yule, scrambled to get into uniform. Dew left the lounge with a rough growl, but not before finding time to delicately display his Aether nutcracker on the mantelpiece.
“What a gift,” Aether cried as he flopped down on their bed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Gods below, I can feel a six pack coming on from laughing so hard.”
“They’re never gonna let this go, are they?” Dew huffed, kicking the door shut behind him.
“Wouldn’t count on it,” the bigger ghoul sighed, opening his arms up for Dew to come join him. The fire ghoul couldn’t resist his mate’s pull for long and very soon he was curled up in Aether’s arms, purring into his chest.
“Happy Yule, my firefly.”
“Happy Yule, Nutty,” Dew said, his voice lilting with a weak chuckle.
“Oh fuck, I hope that doesn’t stick.”
Dew was about to work Aether sticking into a flirty joke when his words were cut off by a loud yell from the lounge. Aether, used to being the first on the scene in any pack emergency, was up and on his feet in moments. He passed Dew an apologetic look for abruptly ending their cuddle session before hurrying out of the room and towards the commotion. Dew followed with less haste, but entered the lounge just in time to find Phantom howling against Swiss who seemed to have scruffed him.
“I only wanted a look!” he wailed, limbs flailing against the multi ghoul’s tight grip on his neck.
“Swiss, drop him!” Aether barked, striding across the room with half a mind to scuff the multi ghoul himself.
“He broke Dew’s thing!” Swiss retorted, dropping Phantom. The small quintessence ghoul scurried over to the sofa where he turned on one foot, hunched over beside the arm rest and hissed.
“What did he break?” Dew snapped, coming round to the seating area. He froze when he saw his Aether nutcracker sprawled out on the floor beside the fireplace. Its right arm hung limply from its socket, a large crack running through the ball joint weakening the structure
“I didn’t mean to!” Phantom wailed. “Swiss snuck up behind me and made me jump. I was just having a look and I dropped it. I’m sorry!”
Generally speaking, Dew was quick to anger and slow to calm, so Aether was at his side and tuned into his headspace before the fire ghoul could react. He sent a quick wave of calming energy out across the whole room, reaching far enough to include the handful of ghouls clustered around the doorway.
“Dew, it’s okay, we can fix it,” Aether murmured, running his hands softly over the small ghoul’s shoulders and arms. To Aether’s relief, all that came from Dew was a sharp warning growl and an irritated flick of his tail.
“Piss off, Swiss,” he spat as he slowly broke out of Aether’s hold and padded over to his nutcracker. “Sounds like you’re the one that broke it.”
“Fucking sue me. He dropped it,” the multi ghoul said, stomping off and knowing full well he owed both Phantom and Dew and apology when he had his emotions in check.
Once Swiss had left and Aether had coaxed Phantom out of his worked up state, the pair made their way over to Dew.
“I...I really am sorry,” Phantom sniffed. “I just wanted a better look.”
Dew ignored the young quint, settling the nutcracker in his arms as one might cradle a kit. It was odd to watch, to see Dew acting so paternal and over a wooden figurine at that. After a minute or two, he placed the Aether nutcracker on it’s stand and felt about in his pocket for a loose hair tie. With far more care than any of the other ghouls would have given him credit for, he wrapped the tie around the nutcracker’s arm a few times, then over the cracked ball joint in its shoulder.
“There,” Dew soothed, taking the nutcracker back into his arms and standing up. “Phantom didn’t mean to break you. You know what kits are like. They get so overexcited and it is his first Yule.” The fire ghoul made a point of petting down the wisps of hair and repositioning the nutcracker’s hat before placing him back on the mantelpiece.
Aether watched the bizarre interaction unfold with mounting pride. It soothed his heart to see just how far his mate had come over the years with managing his emotions.
Dew gave the nutcracker one last look over and, happy with his fix, turned on his heel and headed towards the door. He stopped midway across the room to pat Phantom on his shoulder. “Next time, kid, break that awful, tacky, fairy ornament Cirrus puts on the tree, yeah?”
Phantom gave one last big sniff before nodded and managing a smile. “Kay, Dew.”
With peace once again restored, the ghouls went back to their prep and by Lucifer’s blessing alone, they made it to mass on time. The rest of Yule past in a warm blur of good company, comforting drink and, to be quite frank, a horrendous amount of food. By the time the feast was through, not even Aether could stomach the idea of tucking into Mountain’s cooking. The earth ghoul knew when to admit defeat and before long an efficient packing line had been created. His roast ham was wrapped and refrigerated along with all his other culinary creations, prompting Rain to ask if they needed to tape the fridge door shut for fear of it bursting open.
Eventually, the pack settled into the dark evening with a movie, content to just exist in the warm, heady scent of overindulgence and winter spice. Few ghouls stayed late. When Dew announced that the last of the brandy had been doled out, it seemed to get rebranded as a night cap and set off a chain reaction of yawning and stretching. One by one, each ghoul traipsed out and made their sleepy final well wishes before crawling off to their nests. Dew himself was one of the early party, swinging by his Aether nutcracker to check on its arm and wish it a goodnight also. The real Aether wondered how Dew had ended up so enamoured with the little thing before also excusing himself to follow his mate to bed. For the first time in months, the ghoul den fell silent by midnight.