I'm so in love with the way you write!! Especially bully!Eddie, he makes me feel all gooey inside<3 can't wait to see what you write next, pretty 🥰✨
hehehe!!! take this!!! (yes i am using this as an opportunity to be self-indulgent AND festive even tho i finished this a little late LOL <3)
(cws: bully!dad!eddie, f!mom!angelface, christmas festivities, gift-giving, teasing, mentions of postpartum healing and a past of poverty living, set 5 years post-babytrapping, fluff.)
If you thought Eddie wasn't gonna bother getting gifts for your children before he became a father, you would be beyond wrong. He's always been mean, always been rough, but ever since that first Christmas you spent together as a family, he's been the biggest softie you've ever seen for his babies.
Your first one, Elliott, is getting bigger by the day--he's five and still as much of an angel as the day he was born, dark curls exploding all over his head and freckles dusting his nose. Lorien, who just turned four, is a clumsy little guy with his father's eyes and your soft, demure smile. And Trinity is still a bit too small to show much personality yet, but she's giggly and a good sleeper and quite happy for a two-month-old in a chaotic house full of boys. They all get spoiled, but not rotten, lucky for you. Eddie can at least be strict at times and you don't fold easily to those glimmery little eyes when the boys are begging for something they want. But that definitely changes at Christmas, when your husband plays the role of Santa so well you might as well slap a fake beard on his chin and give him a suit to go with his sack of goodies.
However, that same gesture hasn't exactly extended to you. It's not one-sided--you don't really get him much, either--but Eddie's gifts to you in the last five years have been pretty scarce. Your birthday is always a different story and so is his, but with having at least one child each year and that number growing over time, as well as struggling to pay bills and keep the roof over your heads on a single income, presents haven't ever really been a spectacle between you two. Usually it's some chocolate if he can afford it, or simply a kiss and the promise of a date during those couple years where you could barely avoid food, those awful times when you literally scrounged for whatever pennies you could save just to get your children something to open on Christmas morning. All the while watching and feeling a sense of relief at their excitement, all while yours and Eddie's stomachs rumbled with hunger but your boys sat full and satisfied.
But those days of struggling are over, at least for the foreseeable future. This year Eddie's taken over a considerable chunk of the garage as a partner and started doing detail work on the side, and with the success of that as well as the band picking up more and more gigs, you've watched those fears of not being able to provide for your children slowly vanish in your rearview. You even have a job yourself, part-time at the general store where you can chat away with Joyce and have a little time and money to yourself. This is the first year you're actually spending the holidays in a house instead of the trailer, one that you scouted out and Eddie bought, and with all those changes under your belts, you've managed to carve out quite the life for yourself and your little family.
And Eddie's changing, too. You'll never be proud of what you did, you're sure you'll never not feel a little sick at the memory of sabotaging his contraceptives all those years ago. But you've grown and so has Eddie--he's still gruff, and can be a little prickly around the edges when he's in a mood, but your opinion of him definitely changed when you watched him become a parent. And not in the literal sense, just at Elliott's birth. You've watched him become gentle and sweet and learn how to manage himself, you've seen him apply those behaviors to you and you've even gotten some good moments out of him--an apology, for one, and a promise as well.
"I'm never gonna be perfect, I know. But I'll...I'll be the kinda guy a girl like you deserves. I'll be good to you. And....fuck, I mean, I'll try and make it up to you for all that stupid shit. I'll just....I'll find a way, okay? I'll find a way."
That way had been a ring and another baby, the latter of the two being pure coincidence, but he really is making an effort. That much is obvious in the littlest things, like how he waved you off to bed and told you he'd take care of the baby tonight, doing all the feeding and burping and changing and soothing that would usually be shared between the two of you. His only excuse had been that it was Christmas Eve, and he expected a damn good breakfast in the morning for all that last-minute grocery shopping he'd had to do for you the day before. But even as he served you all that indignation and sass, he had cradled your baby girl in his arms as he gave you a kiss, and quietly smiled down at her as he cooed a little lullaby and you snuggled up in your bed to sleep.
"Mommy! It's Christmas, mommy! Wake up!"
When you're finally shaken awake by your boys at eight am sharp, you almost aren't sure where you are, or what day it is--you've been so exhausted taking care of your newborn that you've forgotten what a good night's sleep is. They hop around cheering and grabbing at you to get you up, only calming down enough to lean in for kisses when you bid them a good morning. When you're eventually dragged out of bed by those two excitable little gremlins and stumble half-awake through the hallway, you nearly bump right into your husband as he's carrying your daughter back to her bassinette.
"Mmh....Eds, did you sleep?"
"A little." Somehow, he's grinning, despite it being so early and him sporting bags under his tired eyes. You hadn't been woken up once that you can remember, not even to breastfeed, which would mean that Eddie had been up with Trin for pretty much the whole night in the nursery. Not unusual, but....well, sometimes you forget he can be pretty thoughtful when he feels like it. With a kiss placed on your daughter's head, and another sleepily pressed to Eddie's lips, you rub your eyes and let your sons take each hand to pull you down the steps to go see what Santa left you all. And, as per usual, only half-listening to their father's nagging to slow it down, so you don't go flying!
Fortunately, by the time you're down the stairs and Eddie's on your heels, you've blinked away snough of the sleep that you can stretch and yawn and shake off the tiredness that had kept you so soft and warm in bed. You let the boys take the lead as they hurry into the living room, and when you turn the corner to join them, you're met with quite the unexpected surprise. One that leaves you so pleasantly shocked that even Eddie can't smother his low, soft laughter as he comes up behind you for a kiss to your ear.
Waiting for your boys at the base of the tree are the gifts you and Eddie had wrapped and placed there, making sure to do so later in the night to give your boys a proper taste of that innocent belief in Santa Claus. But Eddie's ploy of staying up with the baby evidently wasn't all for the reasons he had supposed--you can see now that the stockings you had put up over the back of the couch, purely just for decoration, have been stuffed full to bursting with sweets and little toys and trinkets. You've got three of them, one for each child with their names stitched in by Eddie's careful hands, but there's another one that wasn't there last night. Smaller, cuter, but still with a few goodies inside that look like your favourite chocolates peeking out the top and some fuzzy socks. When you turn to look at him, he doesn't even pretend he wasn't looking, although he swerves around you and does pretend to be occupied with soothing your still-sleeping baby.
"Looks like Santa got a lot of work done, huh, boys?" You call out to them while not breaking your locked stare with your husband, arms crossing over your chest as you exchange a few looks that don't feel as innocent as they once were. Eddie winks in that confident way that stirs a heat up in your belly, before he turns and moves to lay your daughter down in the little handmade cradle by the wall that he's left out since the boys were small enough to sleep in it.
"Uh huh! Mama, look! Santa gave you presents!" Lorien calls right back to you, plopped down right next to his brother as they wait on the rug by the tree, practically vibrating with excitement. You quirk an eyebrow, but Eddie hustles over and distracts them by starting up the train of gift-unwrapping, handing each of them their first present with a warm sort of smile that doesn't come around all that often. With their interests piqued and their excited squeals coming out as they tear through the colourful paper, you pull the crib over a few feet to include your little girl in the festivities and take a seat on the couch. You're definitely still on the mend from Trinity's birth, and you don't mind rocking the little wooden cradle as you watch your children laugh and thank mommy, daddy, and Santa for their new toys.
They're such sweet kids, and you don't feel like you're that amazing of a person, so it's really quite the phenomenon that they've turned out to be such respectful and kind little boys. Elliott is so gentle in helping his little brother open the harder to unwrap presents, and they both hold each side of the gifts they got for you and for Eddie as they place them in your laps, giggling and squirming when they get a hail of kisses on their faces as thanks for the little drawings and handmade necklaces. But after most of the pile has diminished, and your sons are thoroughly wiped out from the excitement and looking forward to breakfast, Eddie tilts his head and gestures towards the kitchen.
"Go get a snack, and watch your cartoons in the den until breakfast. Help your brother open his, El."
"Okay, daddy!" With one of their new toys in hand and one last tight, gripping hug on each side for their beloved father, Elliott grabs Lorien's little hand and leads him towards the kitchen, both sets of adult ears tuning in to hear the sounds of them bustling around before they get to the right cupboard, and hustle into the playroom in a fit of giggles to catch their favourite cartoons. Then, and only then, does Eddie drag out those presents that had been hiding around the back of the tree, and drops them carefully in front of you until there's at least six or seven boxes by your feet. It isn't until you pick one up and read the tag on it that you realize it's addressed to you, and with a nervous bite to your lip you look back at your husband without much to say. Is it a prank? He encourages you to open them, and when you pull one of those mid-sized boxes towards you and gingerly lift the top off, you blink away the surprise of seeing a few nice, soft sweaters lying inside. All three are somewhat similar to cashmere if not the real thing, they're in your size, they're in colours you like....but he brushes off your awed thank-yous and just puts another gift in your lap, waiting anxiously for you to open it and find the hair clips and little makeup set inside that you'd been wanting.
"Eddie....really, you didn't have to get me anything. You didn't have to get me this much."
"Oh, shut your mouth, you little goody-goody. Take the damn gifts." He shakes off your gratitude like a wet dog, and shoves the next present into your hands before you can even fawn over the one you've already got. Yet, despite coming off as aggressive as he can be, he's got that smug smirk crawling its way across his lips whenever you seem shocked or excited at what he had bought you. But when the hail of presents is done with, and Christmas morning has officially wrapped up, you feel a sense of guilt as you thumb through the books and the tapes he had got you for the new cassette player you have. While you've definitely gone without any gift exchanging in other years, you did get him some new work gloves and a pic case with the Metallica logo on it this time, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. And he can tell by the way you meekly apologize for your pathetic gift-giving, although he doesn't scoff or poke fun at you like he usually would. He just....looks down at his hands, and fiddles with the string on his plaid sleep pants before he answers you.
"You gave me three kids, and a life, and....and a reason to live. You didn't need to get me anything, and you shouldn't have, cause...." He trails off, and you sit there slack-jawed in awe of what you're hearing, wondering if that's really what you're hearing, because it's so rare for Eddie to be touchy-feely when he's also being lucid about his own behavior. You know he knows how he acts is cruel at times, which is why he's really toned down since you first got pregnant and when you had the boys and Trinity. I'm not gonna be like my father. That's what he had said, and he's kept his word since then. Even so, he slips up at times, but you never would've thought that even with all the progress he's made, he'd do something like this completely out of the blue. Eddie smiles at some thought he's got in his head, and reaches over to clasp his warm, rough hand over yours, and you turn your wrist so you can hold it back and lace your fingers together as your palms touch. "Sometimes, I only got up in the mornings because I knew I'd get to see you. I'd get to bully that dumb smile off your face and make you cry, and I'd feel something."
Maybe it's something in the air, but you feel the courage well up inside you to bring your entwined hands up to your face, and kiss each one of his knuckles so tenderly. Usually that would serve as an oportunity for Eddie to flick your nose or jab at you for being a cheesy, mushy crybaby, but shockingly again he says nothing and just....smiles again. It feels normal. Maybe he's been doing it more recently, and you just haven't noticed.
"Now I got people that depend on me, I....I got people who care whether I live or die. I can work hard day after day, and know that the ones I love will get something out of it. I'm someone's fucking dad. That's crazy." Just as the words come out of his mouth, you hear the squeals and laughter of your boys in the other room, along with the soft gurgling of your precious little girl as she starts waking up. He really isn't wrong, he works incredibly hard to provide and even when he grumbles and complains as he pulls himself out of bed to cover someone's no-show shift, he still comes home with a tired smile to welcome his boys into a hug and waltzes in to kiss you hello. He teases you to no end but he still holds you when you're in pain, he takes your complaints and worries so seriously and never misses a chance to bring you to the clinic or pick up your medicines if that's what you need. And even after twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hour shifts where everything's gone wrong and he just wants to pass out for the whole evening, you still stir awake to get a bleary-eyed look at his bare back as he stands over Trinity's bassinette, soothing and bottle-feeding her late into the night so you won't have to get up.
"You're an amazing father, Eddie." You lean into him, a kiss pressed to his jaw as you hold his hand so closely to your chest, and even with your head resting on his shoulder and his breath hitching when yours puffs against his skin, he still rumbles out a soft bit of mockery to fill the empty space between.
"Shut up. Fucking softie.....I love you."
"I love you too." You kiss his chin this time, and he takes the hint to tilt his head down and capture your lips when you go in for another. He's chapped and warm, he smells of milk and a bit of menthol along with his cologne, and it's the strangest combination but it so encompasses Eddie as he is now. He's the kind of father that would get his children McDonald's and watch them eat with a smile as his stomach rumbled, and he's the kind of husband that would agree to share your meal just to take the most unintrusive bite of your burger and tell you he's full. And he's the type of man that, if you ever fell back on those hard times again, would do it all over and more if it meant making sure that his wife and children were taken care of. And still he asks for nothing, but you know by the way he had stared down at the drawings and that pic case and traced the insignia that he'll treasure those moments forever--he'll always know that he's loved, and that his sacrifices will always mean something to your family, especially when your kids grow up and find those same values within themselves. Hopefully, with your influence included, without any of those feelings of abandonment or turmoil that Eddie's still working at undoing with you as you both grow older.
As you sit there together, cuddling and holding one another with plentiful thumps of your hearts, you squeeze his arm so tight and let him feel how much love tightens around it in a hug. He looks so peaceful, and you just have to take the chance to teasingly throw his favourite words right back at him as he looks so solemn and lost in thought. "You gonna cry, you little baby?"
"Fuck you," He spits back immediately with a grin, turning to look down on you and following it up with an especially passionate kiss. If it weren't for your kids being in the other room, and for Trinity starting to stir in the crib as she yawns, it probably wouldn't have stopped there. But for now it does, and Eddie helps you to your feet as you hug him close one last time before moving to welcome your little girl into your arms, and see what she's feeling like so you can hopefully omit some oncoming discomfort. Clingy as ever, Eddie snakes his arms around you from behind one last time as you hold her, kissing your cheek over your shoulder and gently bopping Trin's little Munson nose before he whispers his plans for breakfast in your ear, and slips away to duck into the kitchen.
"Boys! Breakfast in ten! Bacon, yes or no?"
"Yes!" The two of them shout back to their father from the playroom, and you chuckle to yourself as he pretends to mishear them just to elicit a playful reaction, as they frantically correct their daddy while you spend a little time tending to your newborn. Thankfully she doesn't seem too hungry yet, just a little restless, so you lay her back down in the crib and make a mental note to remind Eddie to bring the whole thing over to the table so you can all eat as a family. For now, though, you find yourself meandering back through the archway to find your husband at the stove, several pans already laid out and a carton of eggs open as he's in the midst of cracking a few and humming. You recognize the tune, One Night in the City, and you find yourself joining in with a softer voice as you come up from behind, and wrap your arms around him to lovingly rub his belly the way he likes. It's kinda sweet how surprised he always is to find that you've remembered things like that about him, and as always, he has to brush it off with a few words so he doesn't have to acknowledge how special it makes him feel.
"You love me, huh? That's embarrassing." Even so, he grazes the hand you've got on his stomach with his own, smiling silently to himself as he cracks another egg into the pan with a sssh as the whites hit the hot steel.
