Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

John Dory had always liked the thought of Christmas.  Everybody in the Troll Tree celebrated the holidays.  There was always so much talk about family, community, and kindness.  Good, strong messages that he loved in theory, but the reality had always been far too overwhelming.

Most trolls in the tree used the holidays as an excuse to take several days off and just relax, but John Dory and his brothers didn’t have that luxury.  Brozone was always very popular, but they really thrived during the Christmas season.  That was when trolls were looking for even more reasons to celebrate, and what better way to bring friends and family together than by going to see a seemingly tight-knit family put on a great performance.

The holiday season meant more shows, more albums, more fan meet-ups, and less time to do it.  And then there was everything he needed to do for their personal family holidays, because he still wanted his brothers to enjoy themselves.  It was an impossible job to do at the best of times, but especially when at the same time he was pushing his brothers past their limits.

Christmas had always seemed like an unachievable dream.  Something that others could do easily, but was out of John Dory’s reach.  When he was younger he had thought it was a problem with him, and he tried harder to get it.

When he’d left home John Dory had pushed Christmas to the back of his mind.  No celebrating.  No humming Chistmas carols to himself.  He didn’t even travel to visit other troll clans just to be part of the community during the winter season.  He camped out in the deepest parts of the wilderness and just tried to pretend that he was the only troll in the world, because that was how he felt.

He was excited for Christmas this year though, for probably the first time in his life, and there were two big things that contributed to that eagerness.  For one thing, he had his brothers again.  He had missed them so much, every single day, and he had never thought he would get them back.  If that wasn’t worth a celebration, he didn’t know what was.

The other reason he could be excited about it was because it wasn’t his job to make the Christmas magic happen.  When Bruce had first invited him he had made a point to tell him dozens of times that he and Brandy were the ones in charge of Christmas.  He said that John Dory was welcome to help out if he wanted to, but he wasn’t allowed to be bossy or try to take over.  He knew Bruce wasn’t worried about it, but honestly John Dory wasn’t even tempted to try to step in.  He’d done the whole running Christmas thing, and he hated it.  Being able to just sit back and enjoy things sounded like a dream.

His first day on Vacay Island he spent hours just talking to Bruce about their lives.  It was probably the first time in his life that he and Bruce could just talk and enjoy each other’s company, and this was a memory that he was going to be holding on to for the rest of his life.

They could have talked all night, but Bruce wasn’t the night owl he had been as a teenager.  He had a restaurant.  He had kids.  He’d been waking up at dawn every day for more than fifteen years now, which meant he needed to go to bed early too.  John Dory had planned on waking up to help make a great breakfast and watch the sunrise with his bro.  He went to bed at a decent time, but a few hours later he was woken up by a strangled gasp of pain.  John Dory rolled out of his bed before he even knew what was wrong.  His big brother instincts took over as he stumbled across the room, grateful for the nightlight that they’d forgotten to turn off last night.  He could see Floyd on his back, clearly in pain.  He was still whimpering in pain and he was stiff and arching his back.  His legs were trembling, with one of them bent and very tense looking.

John Dory hurried to Floyd’s side, awkwardly climbing onto the bed to help.  “I’m here.  I’m here.  You’re okay.  Are you okay?  Are you hurt?  What’s wrong?”  He used to be so good at keeping calm when one of his brothers was panicking, but right now that knowledge had flown right out the window.  He was out of practice seeing his brothers in pain, and the last time he’d seen Floyd like this he had almost died.  He thought he had the right to feel a little nervous.

‘L-leg.”  Floyd said through clenched teeth.  “Hurts.”

Right.  Right.  He should have known that.  John Dory actually recognized this.  He dealt with leg cramps himself every once and a while.  Ultimately harmless, as far as he knew, but they could be really painful.  Fortunately, he knew how to treat them.  

“I got you.”  John Dory gently grabbed Floyd’s bent leg and slowly straightened it.  Floyd whimpered, but it was over in a moment.  As John Dory forced Floyd’s leg to relax his brother let out a shuddered breath as his body lost its tension.

“Ow.”  Floyd muttered.  John Dory gave him a sympathetic look as he began to massage his leg.  “Th-thanks.”

“Are you okay?”  John Dory asked.

“I’m fine.”  Floyd said.  “It’s just a little sore now.  It’ll wear off.”

“Cramps suck, huh?”  John Dory said, because he didn’t know what else to say.  Floyd snorted.

“Yeah.  Not fun.”  Floyd said.  “They’re not normally that bad though.”

John Dory didn’t like the thought of Floyd getting leg cramps.  He’d been hurt yesterday too.  He knew that sore muscles and stuff just came with growing up, but Floyd was still so young.  He shouldn’t have to deal with this stuff.  Not yet.

Was this because of what had happened with Velvet and Veneer?  Had Floyd hurt his legs before, and none of them knew just because they didn’t really know just what Floyd had been through since they were kids?  Was this John Dory’s fault?  Had he pushed his brothers too far when they were little, and hadn’t properly taught them the right stretches and ways to take care of their bodies?  He didn’t know.  Why didn’t he know?

“Is there…something I can do?”  John Dory asked awkwardly.  Floyd shook his head before he even finished the question.  Are you sure?  I can get you some ice.  Or water.  Or-”

“I’m fine.”  Floyd said stiffly.  He rolled over, pulling his leg away from John Dory.  “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Bro, don’t apologize for being in pain.”  John Dory said sternly.  Floyd stiffened and scoffed.

“I’m not apologizing for being in pain.  I’m apologizing for being a burden on you guys because of it.”  Floyd said bitterly.

“You’re not a burden.  ”John Dory’s stomach dropped.  He tried to scoot closer to his brother to give him comfort, but Floyd pushed him away.

“It’s the middle of the night.  You’d be asleep right now if it weren’t for my stupid leg, and this stupid pain, and this stupid…stupid…”  He cut himself off with a furious growl.  John Dory couldn’t take it anymore.  He laid down next to Floyd and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.  Floyd tried to struggle away for a moment, but then he whimpered and leaned in to the touch.

“You’re not a burden.”  John Dory repeated himself, and he would continue to do so for as long as he needed to.  “There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here with you.  Except maybe somewhere where we’re together, and you’re not in pain.  But that’s not possible right now, so I guess this is what we’re stuck with.”

Floyd shuddered and clutched at him.  “I hate this.”

“I know.”  John Dory said.

“I want it to stop.”  Floyd muttered. 
“I know.”  John Dory said, because what else was he supposed to say?

He was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep until Floyd settled down and slept himself.  He needed to be conscious just in case Floyd needed him.  He used to do this all the time when they were younger, just staying up with his brother after he’d had a nightmare and was scared of going back to sleep.  Floyd hadn’t been woken by a bad dream, but maybe he was still worried about having a nightmare.  John Dory didn’t know why else Floyd would try so hard to stay awake, but eventually he settled and drifted off.  John Dory stayed up for a little longer, just holding Floyd.  He didn’t even realize he had drifted off until a slamming door startled him into awareness.

He sat up with a jolt, quickly realizing that Floyd wasn’t there. He could hear Bruce’s kids running around and shouting at each other.  John Dory was apparently one of the last people awake.  Just the thought of it was weird.  He was used to being a very early riser. 

It seemed he would have to watch the sunset with Bruce another time.  That was okay.  Floyd had needed him, and he didn’t regret staying up to help him for one second.  John Dory climbed out of bed and stretched.  He left the room and almost got run over by kids playing tag.

“Uncle Johnny!”  Freddy beamed at him.  “You’re awake.  You slept forever.”

“Daddy said we couldn’t wake you up.”  Labreezey whined.  “But we needed your help.”

“Well, I’m up now.”  John Dory said.  “What’s up?”

“We wanna put together a concert for Christmas Eve.”  Cove came to join them.  “Mommy said you knew a lot about concerts.  You can help us.”

A concert.  Like, a show.  John Dory hadn’t put together a show for twenty years.  He’d missed it, but he was a little uneasy about jumping back into it.  What if he got bossy again?  Even if he wasn’t bossy, would Bruce be okay with him doing this?  John Dory thought he could keep things fun, because there was no pressure for them to do their little concert well the way that Brozone did, but he wouldn’t blame Bruce if he wouldn’t be comfortable with it.  He would love to put together a concert with his niece and nephews, but not if it meant stepping on Bruce’s toes.

“Sounds like fun.”  John Dory said.  “Let’s just, uh, double-check with your dad that it’s okay.”  He thought that was fair, but the kids loudly protested.

“No!” Bruce Jr. seemed to pop out of nowhere, startling John Dory.  These kids were three times his size.  How could they sneak anywhere?  “This is supposed to be Dad’s Christmas present.  It needs to be a surprise.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that.”  John Dory tried to figure out how to do this.  How does he explain boundaries and fragile trust to a hoard of children?  “It’s just…uh…I hurt Bruce’s feelings a long time ago, and there’s just some things that I need to be careful about to avoid hurting him again.”  To his relief the kids didn’t ask questions about how doing a concert might hurt someone’s feelings.

“Sooo,”  LaBreezey rocked a little on her heels.  “You won’t help us because you don’t want to maybe hurt Daddy’s feelings.  And you want to ask Daddy, because maybe it won’t hurt his feelings, and you don’t know.”

“Uh…yeah.  Something like that.”  John Dory thought he got what she was saying.

“Oh, maybe we can ask Mommy.”  Cove suggested excitedly.  “She’ll know if it’ll hurt his feelings, and she’ll keep it a secret.”  That certainly sounded like a great plan to John Dory.  A nice compromise.

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”  John Dory agreed.  The kids cheered.  Cove grabbed his arm just a little too tightly and started tugging him along as he went to find his mother.  With so many kids sharing a goal it didn’t take too long to find her.  Freddy reported that she was in the kitchen, so Cove tugged John Dory there while Junior went to find their dad and distract him while they talked.

Brandy was sitting at the kitchen table drinking some coffee and talking to Floyd, who was sipping on his own hot drink, and grimacing every time.  He never had been a fan of coffee.  John Dory wondered why he was drinking it now.

He used his hair to pull himself up onto the table, going to Floyd’s side and nudging him in a friendly way to say good morning.

“I wondered where you went.”  John Dory said.  “I hope you actually got some sleep last night.”  Floyd bit his lip slightly and looked pointedly at his drink.

“I slept fine.”  He muttered.  He sure didn’t sound fine, but John Dory didn’t want to start a fight by calling him out.

“Cool.  Cool.”  John Dory nodded.  “And how’s the leg?”

Floyd stood up so suddenly that he almost headbutted John Dory.  He shoved his Lukewarm coffee into John Dory’s hands and started walking off.  John Dory panicked.

“Hey, whoa, I’m sorry.”  John Dory said quickly before Floyd could pull away and storm off.  “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just worried.”

Floyd’s hand trembled as he reluctantly let John Dory pull him back.  “Everyone always worries.  I just wish you wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry.  That’s not going to happen.”  John Dory said.  Floyd sighed.

“I know.”  He sat down again and rubbed his legs.  John Dory refrained from asking if he was sure he was okay, instead turning to Brandy, who was letting Cove try a sip of her coffee.  He couldn’t help but laugh when the kid spat it out with the most disgusted face.  Whoever had invented coffee had to have been a miracle worker, to make something that gave parents energy, but did not have an appealing taste to kids.

“I hope the kids didn’t wake you.”  Brandy said to John Dory.  “I told them they needed to wait.”

“Nah, they’re fine.”  John Dory waved it off.  It was time for him to get up anyway.  “They had a pretty cool idea they wanted my help with, but I wanted to run it by you first, just to make sure it’s okay.”

“We want him to help us put on a Christmas concert.”  Cove said loudly, too excited to hold back.  “It’ll be a surprise for Daddy.”

“But I’ll only do it if you think he’d be fine with it.”  John Dory said firmly.  He needed to make that clear.

Floyd gave him an odd look.  “Why wouldn’t he be fine with it.”  John Dory thought the better question was, after everything he’d done, why would Bruce be okay with it.  John Dory wondered why he even let him near his kids.  Bruce was giving him another chance, even though John Dory didn’t completely understand what he had done wrong, let alone how to avoid making those same mistakes.

Brandy looked stunned for a moment before she beamed broadly.  “Oh!  A Christmas concert.  I think Bruce would love that.”  She gave John Dory a gentle look.  “And he would love that you had thought to ask.”  Floyd still looked confused.  John Dory wondered if he should talk to Floyd about what Bruce had been feeling when they were kids.  Floyd had been so young at the time, after all, so it made sense that he wouldn't necessarily notice, and it wasn’t as though he’d been there when they’d laid everything out.

But maybe it wasn’t his place to talk to Floyd about it.  Maybe he should leave it to Bruce.

“Uncle Floyd, you should join us!”  Cove said eagerly.  Floyd seemed to pale a little bit.

“I…uh, I’m not the best at this kind of thing.”  Floyd said somewhat nervously.  John Dory couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you kidding me?  You were always the most opinionated about our Christmas concerts.”  John Dory said.  Floyd glared at him, and he really didn’t know what he had said wrong.

“I’m rusty.”  Floyd said grumpily. John Dory wasn’t convinced, and he could tell that Cove wasn’t either.  Floyd seemed to tell as much as well.  He sighed and rubbed his arm, ducking his head so his hair fell even more in his face.  “Look, I just…I haven’t really helped put on any kind of shows since…since…”  He shook his head.  “I’m just not really up for it yet.  I’m sorry.”

John Dory felt like a grade A jerk. “Bro, you don’t have to-”

“I’ve gotta go.”  Floyd said quickly.  He tried to stand up, only for his leg to give out under him.  John Dory narrowed his eyes.  Whatever was going on with Floyd’s legs, it had to be more than a simple occasional cramp.  He wanted to ask Floyd if he was okay.  He wanted to help him stand, because he clearly couldn’t get up on his own right now.  But when he moved to help Floyd his brother just sent him a death glare.  Okay, so Floyd didn’t want to accept help right now, but what was John Dory supposed to do?  Just leave him alone to figure things out?  No way.  What kind of brother would he be if he did that?

But what kind of brother would he be if he just disrespected his brother’s wishes because he thought he knew better than they did?  Wasn’t that a big issue that Bruce and Clay had had with him?

He didn’t have the chance to figure it out.  Brandy stood up and offered her hand to Floyd, who reluctantly crawled on.  “There’s a quiet pond nearby.”  She said.  “Vacaytioners don’t go there because the pond is too small for us, but the water is clean.  If you don’t mind going for a little ride, I would be happy to take you.”

“Y-yeah.”  Floyd said shakily.  Was he nervous, distressed, or just in pain?  John Dory hated that he didn’t know, and it wasn’t like he could just ask his brother about it.  He couldn’t really do anything but watch as Brandy walked away with Floyd.

Cove poked his arm.  “Is Uncle Floyd okay?”

“I don’t know.”  John Dory said without thinking.  He realized what he had done wrong a second later.  He slapped a smile on his face.  “I mean, I’m sure he’s fine.  He’s just tired.  He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”  And his leg was apparently messed up, but Cove didn’t need to know about that.

“Promise?”  Cove asked.  John Dory hated lying to the kid, but he didn’t see the point in worrying him.

“Yeah.”  John Dory said.  “He’s going to be just fine.”  There.  He wasn’t technically lying.  He was being optimistic, and hoping that the kid didn’t notice his wording.  “So, when did you want to start working on that concert?”

“I’ll ask the others.”  Cove said.  He gave John Dory a big hug that felt like it was going to shatter his ribs.  “This is going to be so much fun!”

“Yep.”  John Dory coughed.  “Looking forward to it.”

“Looking forward to what?”  Bruce walked into the kitchen.  Cove’s eyes widened and he looked like his mind was running a million miles a minute as he tried to come up with an excuse.  John Dory took over.

“The kids asked me to help them with a project.”  John Dory said with a smirk.  “A Christmas related surprise.”  Cove gave him a betrayed look, but Bruce nodded and didn’t ask any more about it, just like John Dory knew he would.

“Sounds like fun.”  Bruce said.  “Just go easy on your uncle, kid.  He’s not as young as he wants to pretend he is.”  John Dory gasped in exaggerated, but also genuine, offense.  Cove giggled at the offended look on his face.  Bruce chuckled.  “Why don’t you play with the other kids?”

“So you can talk to each other?”  Cove asked.  He was an observant child.  Bruce nodded.

“Yep.  So me and my brother can talk.”  Bruce said.  Cove didn’t ask why he had to be sent away for them to talk.  He just waved to John Dory and ran off.  The second his son was out of the room Bruce’s relaxed expression and body-language grew tense.  He just looked tired and serious.

“I just passed Brandy.”  Bruce said in a low voice.  “She was carrying Floyd.  She doesn’t carry or hold people unless it’s necessary.  Do you know why it’s necessary?”

“Something’s going on with his legs.”  John Dory said.  “He got woken up in the middle of the night because of some really bad cramps.  And he couldn’t even get to his feet earlier.”

Bruce’s mouth thinned.  “I tried to talk to him about it yesterday, and he brushed it off.  I was scared of pushing it.”

“I tried pushing it.”  John Dory said.  Both last night and this morning.  Last night had been a little more successful, probably because Floyd had been too emotionally and physically drained to fight him, and he’d still tried to push him away.  This morning though…  “It, uh, didn’t really go well.”

Bruce frowned and sat on the table, tapping his hand rhythmically against the surface.  “I don’t think he’s recovered from the whole Velvet and Veneer situation.”

John Dory sighed and sat next to him.  “Honestly, I think it was kinda dumb for us to think that he would just jump back from this.”

Bruce grimaced.  “I know.  I would normally be more careful about it.  I was just so relieved that we got him out alive that I didn’t really stop to think that he wasn’t necessarily okay.”

“None of us did.”  John Dory felt guilty, but what made him feel a little more sick was that he didn’t know what else they could have done.  They’d just reunited.  They were still getting used to talking to each other at all.  They needed to rebuild the trust, and that would take time and care.

They should have stayed together for a little longer.  At least one of them should have stuck with Floyd, just to make sure he was okay.  But he wouldn’t have accepted that.  He was barely accepting it now.

“I wish it was just a pride thing.”  John Dory said.  “I know how to deal with pride.  This though?”  He sighed.  “Floyd feels like he’s a burden on us.  He woke up because he was in pain, and he apologized for bothering me.”

Bruce groaned and massaged his forehead.  “Yeah, I can see that.”  He snorted in a completely humorless way.  “I had to tell him dozens of times that I wanted him to come for Christmas before he even agreed to come for more than a few days.  He wanted to be here, I know he did, but he didn’t want to get in the way.  He only agreed when I said I’d ask him to help around the house and stuff.”

“Ask for help with what?”  John Dory frowned.  “If his legs are acting him he’s supposed to be relaxing.”

“I know.”  Bruce growled.  “I want to let him relax, but I can’t tell him as much, or else he’ll feel like a burden.”

John Dory felt like a teenager again, both because he felt useless and helpless, but also because that was when he’d had the weight of his brothers’ well-being on his shoulders.  It was a heavy pressure.

“Ah, the joys of being a big brother.”  John Dory said.  “Doesn’t this just make you look forward to the next month?”

Bruce laughed loudly and scooted closer to John Dory, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer.

“Oh, it’s going to be a disaster.”  Bruce smiled, and John Dory had the feeling that if he didn’t laugh then he would start crying.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Hey, that’s what bros are for.”  John Dory said.  “To get overwhelmed about the same thing you’re getting overwhelmed about, so we can feed into each other’s stress.”

“At least we can tag-team it.”  Bruce said.

“We gotta come up with a game plan.”  John Dory started to slip into his planning, somewhat perfectionist, mindset.  He liked to think that he was a very casual guy, but when it came to things that mattered he went all in.  And nothing mattered more to him than his brothers.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.  “Having a plan’s great, but we’ll be making it together, okay?  I want Floyd to be okay just as much as you do.  We’ll have slightly different ideas of what might work, and we’ll both be right about some things and wrong about a lot of things, which means it’s gotta be both of us.”

“I-I know.”  John Dory said, because he did.  Bruce was right.  John Dory knew how to help his brothers, but he frequently accidentally hurt them badly.  He didn’t want to hurt them anymore, and this was too important to risk messing up.  Doing it right was more important than doing it his way.

“I’m going to need some reminders.”  John Dory admitted.  “Maybe…maybe gentle reminders?”  It wasn’t what he deserved.  He knew that if Bruce wanted to yell at him then he had earned that right.  But if Bruce yelled then John Dory’s instinct was to get defensive.  He wanted to listen, and he knew the best way he would listen was if he was confronted in a softer, but still stern, way.

Bruce, who was way more  forgiving than John Dory probably deserved, just gave him a reassuring smile.  “If you can try to listen , then I can try to keep my reminders nicer.”  He held out a fist.  “No fighting.”  They both knew that fighting would happen anyway, but this was a promise to do their best to keep it to a minimum.  At least when it came to their plan to help Floyd.

“No fighting.”  John Dory returned the first bump.  “So, I think I’ve got some time until your kids come and drag me away.  You wanna jump into brainstorming?”

“Big bro bout of brainstorming.”  Bruce snorted.  “Been a long time since we’ve had one of those.” 

“You have chocolate?”  John Dory asked.  “It’s not a meeting of the big bros without chocolate.”

“I remember.”  Bruce smiled fondly.  “We keep the chocolate in our bedroom, or else the kids will devour all of it.  But yeah, we’ve got it.”

“That’s my bro!”  John Dory didn’t even know why he was so eager for the chocolate.  Had it been that long since he’d had some?  Was he just eager to get back something from his childhood?  Was he looking forward to feeling useful to Floyd, and his brain was just telling him that chocolate was a vital part of getting a good plan in place.  He had no idea, but Bruce seemed amused by his enthusiasm.  And, hey, chocolate.  Who cared why he wanted it?

John Dory had no idea what he thought they could accomplish when both of them felt in over their heads.  They had to at least try though.  It was for Floyd.  Their little brother.  Their effort was the very least that he deserved.

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.