Chapter Text
Clay didn’t like Christmas. He never had. In fact, as a little kid he hated it. He didn’t even like to think about it. The concerts sucked. The increased social pressures and chaotic parties were not fun, and it took Clay years to realize that most trolls didn’t have to just pretend they were having fun the way he always had. He just thought that everybody was putting on a show, because that was his whole life. When he realized that everybody else around him genuinely enjoyed themselves and loved the holidays, his frustration with Christmas became a hatred.
He frequently felt like he was being pushed into a game that he didn’t like and didn’t know the rules of, but everybody else already knew how to play and loved it. He not only needed to learn how to play the game without letting anybody know he was just faking it, but he needed to pretend that he enjoyed it when he hated it with a passion. All the pretending and putting on a show felt even worse during the holiday season. Everybody else got to enjoy themselves, and he was stuck just pretending, and pretending, and pretending.
Putting on a show for the audience. Putting on a show for his brothers. Putting on a show for the troll citizens in the tree. It was overwhelming, and he couldn’t take it.
The Putt Putt Trolls celebrated Christmas, and Clay hadn’t ever had any part in it. He listened to Viva plan things out. He helped her set up. And then he minded his own business and never went to any of the holiday parties. He just sat in his room with a good book, drank some hot cocoa, and tried to ignore the fact that it was his least favorite time of year.
He had been tempted to not spend the holidays with his brothers. He remembered what their family holidays had been like when he was a child, and they’d been a nightmare. But Bruce had assured him that it wouldn’t be the same, and he was the one brother that Clay would believe. He knew that Bruce had hated their childhood Christmases just as much as he did, and Bruce was the one in charge. He’d been doing his own family Christmas for years, so he probably knew just what he was doing. It was probably really toned down. Get the family together. Give the kids a few presents. Don’t do anything more than that. It was still more than Clay wanted, but he could tolerate it.
He may not have any interest in the holidays, but he wanted to get to know his brothers. He wanted to spend time with them. He had spent years telling himself that he was content to never see his brothers again. He was almost able to lie to himself, except on his loneliest nights. Now that he had them back in his life though he wasn’t even going to try to pretend he didn’t want them around. He would deal with Christmas if this was what it took to be with his brothers for a few weeks in a non-life threatening situation.
Besides, Poppy had invited Viva and all of the other Putt Putt trolls to celebrate the holidays at Pop Village, and Clay wanted nothing to do with that, thank you very much. He knew how overstimulating a troll party could be, and he didn’t want to witness one where the trolls had no fear of bergens holding them back.
The Putt Putt trolls took a critterbus to Pop Village. He went to drop them off and pick up Branch. He wasn’t ready for the holidays, but he was ready to take a holiday. He couldn’t wait to get to Vacay Island and just relax. He was sure, absolutely sure, that at least some of his brothers would feel similarly. That they would be content to enjoy the break and sit on the beach, and maybe just ignore for a little bit that it was Christmas.
Those hopes weren’t shattered when he saw Branch waiting for him with what looked like twenty or so boxes and bags, but that bit of optimism definitely cracked a bit. Presents. Branch was bringing presents. For everybody.
Clay had very specifically not brought presents. He had considered bringing something for Bruce, Brandy, and the kids. A host gift. But he would want to bring something useful, something that wouldn’t just be something else to clutter up the house. But he didn’t know what kinds of things Vacaytioners, or half Vacaytioners and half trolls, liked, let alone needed. He didn’t want to bring them the wrong thing, so ultimately decided to not bring anything. He would just be sure to talk to Brandy for future reference, and help out around the house while he was there.
Clay had hated dealing with Christmas presents as a child. There were so many unspoken rules that he didn’t understand. Did he just give presents to his family? Family and close friends? What about acquaintances? What about the trolls who helped out backstage at their show? If somebody gave him a present, regardless of his relationship with them, was he supposed to give them something in return? And what about the value of the gifts? Was it more important that he give his brothers things of equal or similar value, or for him to get them things they would like? How much time and energy did he need to dedicate to looking for the perfect gift for each of his brothers that all cost the same amount and were all catered to their individual interests?
It was all too much to deal with, especially for a holiday that he didn’t want anything to do with in the first place. Seeing Branch smiling and looking excited, standing next to clearly well thought-out presents, Clay felt like he had just made a very big mistake.
While all the Putt Putt trolls cautiously left the bus to familiarize themselves with their new surroundings Clay inside and tried to remember how to slap on a smile and put on a show. By the time Branch came in with all his presents and stuff Clay did not quite have a convincing mask, but his little brother was too excited to notice
“You, uh, sure look prepared.” Clay commented, trying really hard to not let any judgement slip into his tone. He wasn’t judging Branch, he just felt more inadequate the more he looked at the carefully wrapped presents, and when Clay felt like he wasn’t good enough he had a tendency to take it out on those around him.
“I hope I am.” Branch stacked the presents, and then restacked them in a different way. Clay had no idea if he was just making the pile more stable or if he hadn’t been happy with the look. “I didn’t really know what the kids wanted, and I had no idea if you guys would be into what you liked when we were kids, but you know what? I embrace a challenge.”
“Branch is great at giving presents.” Poppy said as she latched onto Branch’s arm and gave him a fond look. He smiled sheepishly.
“Words are just so hard to get right sometimes.” Branch said quietly. “It’s easier sometimes to give presents than to find the perfect words.”
Clay didn’t really understand it. The way he saw it, gifts were so easy to misinterpret. There was so much pressure to give them, and if you gave the wrong something it could hurt so many feelings. He would rather struggle to find the right words and have a proper discussion than just throw toys at an issue like it could solve a dying relationship.
But that was just him, and he didn’t dare say as much to Branch. Maybe this was just one of those things where neither of them were really right or wrong, they just did things differently. But if Bruce and his family were expecting presents then maybe Clay’s way of doing it really was wrong.
As soon as they got to Vacay Island he needed to pull Bruce aside and figure out what was going on. There were still a few weeks left until Christmas. He’d have time to figure something out.
Clay stood there awkwardly, spiraling in his own head, all while Branch and Poppy said their goodbyes. Viva returned to the critterbus to give Clay one more hug and a kiss on the cheek. She didn’t say anything. They’d already reassured each other before they left, because they both had their uncertainties about the holidays. Soon Viva and Poppy took each other’s hands and left. It was time to go.
Branch took the driver’s seat, and Clay was more than happy to let him. He made himself comfortable for the drive to the pier where they would catch a boat to Vacay Island. Not all critter buses could cross the ocean the way that Rhonda could.
“So…uh, are you nervous about the holidays?” Clay asked, because he needed to know he wasn’t alone.
“I mean, a little bit.” Branch said in a tone that made it clear that the nervousness was at a minimum. “I think I’m more excited than anything.” He smiled, looking so calm and relaxed that if Clay didn’t know better he would think that he had never gone Gray and grown up to be a very pessimistic and cautious troll.
“I’m not used to looking forward to stuff.” Branch said almost shyly. “It’s weird, you know? I don’t realy know what to do with it.”
Clay’s mouth thinned. “Yeah, I think I get it.” Sometimes, spending time with Viva, Clay got so used to feeling anxious and on edge that if he felt calm and normal then he started to wonder if something was wrong, and he started to feel nervous about being happy. He didn’t know how to stop feeling that way. He just escaped into his sad books, purposefully making himself a little anxious in a safe way, just so he wouldn’t feel happy and uncomfortable about it anymore.
“Are you excited?” Branch asked. Clay’s stomach sank.
“I want to be.” Clay said. What else could he say? “But I can’t help but be a little nervous that it’s just going to be Christmas with the bros the way that it used to be, you know?”
Branch turned and gave him a confused and concerned look. “I don’t really remember what Christmas was like with the family. W-was it bad?”
Right. Right. Because Branch had only had one Christmas with the bros. He wouldn’t have been involved with all the pressure and expectations. And it had been so long ago. Of course he wouldn’t remember it.
“It was just…a lot.” Clay said quietly. He shook his head. “Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. It’s been twenty years. We’re grown-ups now. Things aren’t going to be the same.” Branch was excited. He just wanted to spend the holidays with his brothers. That was fine. Who was Clay to take that from him?
Clay cleared his throat. “So, I was having a hard time thinking of gifts for the kids. What kinds of stuff did you get them?” He didn’t want to talk about this, not really, but Branch beamed and immediately started talking about all of his presents and his detailed thought-process about them. Clay nodded, but didn’t really pay attention to any of it.
He wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t thought that he would need to fake a smile through the holidays for the sake of his brothers’ happiness. He knew Branch wouldn’t ask him to. But he was so excited. Would he still be excited if he knew just how much Clay was dreading the next three weeks?
Eventually Branch ran out of things to say and they fell into a semi-comfortable silence. Branch, at least, seemed comfortable, and Clay was barely keeping himself from spiraling, going through all of the exercises and techniques that John Dory had taught them when they were children to stay in character and keep the mask up. He hated that he could even remember these exercises, let alone was relying on them. His mind drifted and time passed quickly. It felt like in the blink of an eye they were at the pier and getting on the ship. One internal panic attack later they arrived at Vacay Island, and Clay already felt like he needed a vacation from this vacation.
He wondered if Bruce’s restaurant had any alcohol, because he needed a drink. Now.
They disembarked the ship, with Clay helping Branch carry the presents. Just because he didn’t like them didn’t mean he wanted his brother to be burdened down by this weight. Sure, maybe Branch didn’t think it was a burden at all, but still. It was the concept of the matter.
Besides, carrying the presents gave Clay something to focus on other than the fact that they were surrounded by creatures that were so much bigger than them. He knew that Vacaytioners weren’t inherently dangerous. Bruce wouldn’t have made his life here and married a Vacaytioner if they were truly a threat. Clay even understood now that bergens weren’t all that dangerous, in a way. They’d changed their ways. They’d befriended the trolls.
The problem was that no matter how nice Vacaytioners, or bergens, or, theoretically, Mount Rageon Teenagers, were, they were still a potential threat, because they were just so much larger than trolls were.
Being bigger didn’t make someone a bad creature, but when someone was big it could be hard to remember that beings smaller and weaker than you had feelings. The bergens hadn’t seen trolls as anything more than a tool to gain happiness. The Teenagers had seen trolls as cute little pests that they could steal talent and life-force from.
The bergens were better now, because Poppy had somehow been able to befriend them. The only reason they’d gotten justice for Floyd was because he’d been able to somewhat befriend Veneer, or at least made the Teenager pity him enough to confess to their crimes.
That was great and all, and Clay admired Poppy and Floyd’s kindness, stubbornness, and ability to see the best in everybody, but they shouldn’t have had to.
So, yes, Clay wasn’t afraid of the Vacaytioners, but he certainly had a healthy caution around them. He didn’t want that caution to show though, because this was Bruce’s home. His wife was a Vacaytioner. His kids were half Vacaytioner. They didn’t deserve Clay’s unease. He knew they didn’t.
The problem was that traveling with Branch had been far more draining than Clay had expected. He’d put on a show for his little brother, and he wasn’t sure how much he had left in him to put one on for the Vacaytioners.
Clay didn’t pay any attention to where they were going. He focused on adjusting his grip on the presents, going out of his way to obscure his vision and sight. He put one foot in front of the other and just followed Branch.
“Guys!” Clay almost dropped the presents and turned to run the other way when he heard just who had greeted them. Of course it was John Dory. One more person for Clay to put on a show for. He couldn’t do this. “Glad to see you’ve finally made it.”
Clay rolled his eyes. Leave it to John Dory to say he was happy to see them while making it sound like they should have been here earlier. Clay and Branch would be here for a few weeks, and that was more than enough time to deal with this nonsense.
“Good to see you too, Johnny.” Clay said. His tone was probably more bitter than it should be, but Branch pretended he didn’t notice and John Dory was as obvious as ever.
“Wow, you guys really went all out on the whole present thing.” John Dory said. Clay’s mouth thinned and he set down the stuff in his arms.
“This is all Branch.” Clay said quickly. He didn’t want to take credit for something he had nothing to do with. And he didn’t want to be associated with Christmas presents at all. He knew everybody else saw them as this great thing, but the very thought of it made his skin crawl. This was not a tradition for him. No, thank you.
“It’s not that much.” Branch said. He really seemed to have no idea how much he’d done. “It’s a big family. A lot of presents kinda comes with the territory.”
Clay’s gut twisted and he really wanted to start a fight. If this was any of his brothers saying this kind of thing at any other time he wouldn’t be hesitating. But this was Branch, who just wanted to have a good Christmas with the family. Starting an argument about presents and expectations and pressure really wasn’t the best way to start the holidays. So Clay kept his big mouth shut.
“Hey, I know where Brandy’s hiding the kid’s gifts until Christmas.” John Dory said just a little too loudly. He took Branch’s pile of presents from him and then wrapped his hair around the gifts that Clay had set down. “I’ll go put these with the others. Branch, why don’t you go find Bruce and let him know you’re here? He’s been wanting to talk to the bros.” He turned to Clay. “You’re good at organizing. Come help me put these away.” It wasn’t a request.
Oh, now Clay wanted to fight more than ever. John Dory was being bossy all over again, and Clay really didn’t want to go along with it. But Branch had already gone off to find Bruce, just as requested, and the look in John Dory’s eyes was a familiar one. Whether Clay liked it or not he would be doing what John Dory said.
Fuming and glaring at his older brother, Clay followed John Dory, who looked unfairly relaxed. His older brother went straight to a closet in a back room. There were a lot of presents in there, and Clay felt like he was going to be sick.
“I guess Bruce found his Christmas spirit.” Clay said breathlessly. John Dory shoved the presents in, not saying another word about organization. He closed the door and just turned to face Clay, and a strangely gentle look in his eyes.
“You know Branch doesn’t want you to put on a show for him.” John Dory said quietly. Clay blinked.
“I-I’m not putting on a show.” Clay lied. John Dory snorted.
“Bro, we performed together for years.” John Dory said. “You think I don’t know what you look like when you’re playing a part?” Clay flinched. Actually, yes, he had thought that John Dory didn’t know the difference between him playing a part and him sincerely having fun. If his big brother knew what his masks looked like then that meant that John had ignored that he was feeling burnt out for so long. It meant that John Dory knew that he was performing more often than not when it was just their family hanging out at home, and he’d never done anything about it.
It shouldn’t matter. It was in the past. Clay was too old to be getting hurt about something that had happened twenty years ago.
Still, he couldn’t help but give John Dory a wounded look. “If you knew then why’d you let me do it at home?” Clay despised the way his voice cracked.
John Dory leaned against the wall and hummed thoughtfully. As a kid Clay would have found his brother’s casual posture to be dismissive and infuriating. Now he recognized that his brother was actually thinking things through before he opened his mouth.
“...I guess I thought it was the lesser of two evils.” John Dory said slowly. “I never wanted you to pretend with us, but whenever you weren’t pretending we were fighting.” He held his hands up before Clay could get at him for that. “I know. I know. That was on me. I was the oldest. I was supposed to be the example. I was supposed to help you guys feel safe at home. But bro, I had no idea what I was doing. I was faking it so much that I forgot how to even not put on a show anymore.”
John Dory looked up towards the ceiling. “I convinced myself that if I acted like everything was perfect, then maybe it eventually would be. Or maybe even if I couldn’t be perfect, you guys at least wouldn’t have to deal with my flaws.” John Dory smiled bitterly. “I guess eventually those thoughts about myself shifted to you guys. Like, if Bruce was putting on an act then at least that meant you, Floyd, and Bitty B wouldn’t have to worry about how to deal with his insecurities. And if you wore a mask at home, then maybe the little kids wouldn’t be exposed to that anger.”
Clay wrapped his arms around himself. He hated this, but what he hated most about it wasn’t how it had made him feel as a child. It was that he’d done the same thing. “Like how I encouraged Floyd to hide his anxieties from Branch, because he shouldn’t have had to worry about them.” There had been multiple times growing up where school had brought Floyd to tears, and he had been desperate to get home. Clay should have comforted him and brought him home where he’d be comfortable, but all he’d done was impatiently encourage Floyd to stop crying while they took the long way home.
Branch shouldn’t have had to be burdened by all of their negative feelings, but they shouldn’t have hidden it all from him. That wasn’t protecting Branch, that was teaching him repression. They should have found a healthy balance, but how could they? They were just teenagers who didn’t know what they were doing.
But they weren’t teenagers anymore. They were grown-up. They’d matured.
Which meant they shouldn’t need to be putting on performances to protect their brother’s feelings anymore.
Clay sighed and tugged at his hair. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t be putting on a show for Branch, but I don’t know what to do. Branch is really excited about celebrating Christmas with the family, and I-I-”
“You hate Christmas.” John Dory shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”
“I don’t hate it.” Clay grimaced. “I just…don’t want to celebrate it. And I thought I was ready to, you know, celebrate it a little, because I thought that some of you guys would be on the same page as I was, but then I picked up Branch and saw how excited he was, and I…I had no idea what to do.”
John Dory winced sympathetically. “Yeah, and Bruce is super into Christmas too. I mean, he wouldn’t say he is, but, I mean, come on, he wouldn’t have invited us to come here for the holidays if he wasn’t into it.”
Clay groaned. Right. He hadn’t even thought about that. He was happy for his brother for being able to overcome his Christmas trauma in a way that Clay just couldn’t, but that meant that he was alone here. Who was he supposed to talk to if he got overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of everyone else? John Dory? Yeah, no. Clay’s relationship with John Dory was better now than it had been when they were children, but they definitely weren’t at that level.
John Dory. Of course he was finding amusement in Clay’s suffering.
“Hey, look on the bright side. At least you and Floyd can bond over how miserable you are here.” John Dory spoke with the tone he used when he was both joking and being completely sincere, which Clay didn’t understand at all. Why would Floyd be miserable here? He was with their bros, and it was Christmas. His favorite holiday in the world. Clay would think that he would be the one bro that he would have the hardest time relating to.
He wasn’t given the chance to ask John Dory what he meant. They heard a frustrated shout and they turned to see Bruce coming down the hall, cheerfully carrying Floyd on his shoulders, and their little brother was clearly not excited.
“Bruce!” Floyd practically screamed as he hit Bruce’s shoulders. “Put me down!”
“Nope.” Bruce said cheerfully. “If you’re not going to take care of yourself like a grown-up then I’m going to be treating you like a kid. That’s how this works.”
John Dory looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or start lecturing. “Bruce. If I couldn’t carry Clay over my shoulder to bring him somewhere he didn’t want to go twenty years ago, then you can’t do it now.”
“I wouldn’t have to do this if Floyd would just stretch in the morning, like he said he was supposed to.” Bruce said. Clay felt completely lost. He’d never witnessed a fight between his brothers like this before. He was always right in the middle of disagreements. He didn’t like being in the dark, because he didn’t know how serious this situation was. Who was he supposed to side with?
Floyd squirmed and twisted, but Bruce had a firm grip on him. “I did stretch, you jerk, and even if I didn’t that’s my business, not yours.”
“You’re my little brother.” Bruce said. “If you’re in pain then it is my business.”
In a way Clay somewhat agreed, but not in the way Bruce was doing it. He didn’t know what Bruce was trying to accomplish, because he didn’t understand what the issue with stretching was, but this couldn’t be the right way to deal with it. While Bruce was focusing on the stretching thing, all Clay could see was the way that Floyd’s squirming was getting more and more desperate. This frustration and desperation didn’t look like it was coming from a place of anger. It seemed more like it was coming from a place of fear.
Clay had no idea what Floyd was afraid of. He had to know that Bruce wouldn’t hurt him. But fear wasn’t logical. It didn’t always follow what someone knew. It was raw and instinctive. They could talk things through calmly once Floyd didn’t feel like he was in danger.
“Bruce, put him down.” Clay said sternly, almost angrily. He liked being taken seriously, but he hated tapping into his anger to do so. It was necessary sometimes though. When Viva was spiraling really hard, sometimes tough love was the only thing to snap her out of it before she did something she was going to regret. And Clay was pretty sure that as concerned as Bruce was, he wasn’t stubborn and prideful enough to want to scare Floyd just because he was worried about him.
Bruce gave Clay an unimpressed look, but he set Floyd down anyway. Clay was sure that would be the end of it, but the second Floyd was on his own two feet again his legs buckled a little and he almost fell. Bruce was right there to catch him, putting his hands on his shoulders to steady him, but it wasn’t a comforting gesture. Bruce was standing far too close to Floyd. The protectiveness in his eyes looked far too similar to anger. The grip on Floyd’s shoulders was too tight, and if Floyd had looked nervous before he looked terrified now.
“You told me that your legs only act up if you don’t take care of them.” Bruce said firmly. “You downplayed it and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. That they only hurt sometimes. You’ve been here for a week, and there hasn’t been a single day where they weren’t hurting. If you’ve been stretching and resting them, which you say makes them better, then why can you not even stand without help?”
Floyd didn’t answer. He didn’t get defensive. He just stared at Bruce with wide, fear-filled eyes. Clay recognized this look. Far too many Putt Putt Trolls looked like this when there was something that reminded them of the bergens.
Bruce wasn’t anything like the bergens, or those Teenagers who had terrorized Floyd, but that didn’t matter. All Floyd’s instincts probably recognized was that somebody bigger than him had a firm grip on him and wouldn’t let him go. It should be reassuring, but right now it was doing the opposite and Clay wouldn’t just stand there and watch it happen.
“Dude!” Clay forced himself between the two of them and pushed Bruce back. “Back off. That’s not helping.”
Bruce glared at him, but he wasn’t really that frustrated. He just felt helpless. Bruce took a deep breath, took a step back, and loosened his posture.
“I’m sorry, Floyd.” Bruce said quietly. Floyd looked around frantically before his gaze landed on Bruce. He scowled and stormed off. Bruce looked like he wanted to go off after him, but he held back. Bruce huffed and turned the other way, walking off. John Dory raised an eyebrow at Clay, giving him an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. Clay groaned and followed after Floyd. He couldn’t believe he had wanted one of his brothers to feel not too great about being here. Feeling understood was not worth seeing his brothers hurt.