Who: Luke, Wren + Gus What: Putting up the Christmas tree. (1/3) Where: Luke & Wren's new house~ When: Recently. Warnings/Rating: Noone.
In the end, pricing had won out when it came to picking a house.
The house in The Lakes was nearly 2,000 square feet, with four bedrooms, and the renters were willing to reduce the rent to $1,100 a month with a year up-front. The sale of the safehouse made that possible, and there was enough room if Jack wanted to come back. Sure, they'd lose money if they left, but it also gave Luke and Gus some stability that Wren really liked (even if she hated the colors on the walls). The neighborhood was modest. Not upscale, and not the kind of place where there was a maintenance fee that took care of everyone's yard to keep it looking picture perfect, but children rode their bikes in the street without concern, and the nearby school was a good one. The yard needed some work, but Luke claimed to be a landscaper now, and Wren thought it might be cute to watch him try to work a lawnmower.
It was all decided in an hour, and despite their plans to spend time together after, she'd needed to go get her stitches out, and Luke had needed to work. She'd pick up the keys the next day, and she made Luke promise to go pick out a tree with Gus once it got dark and the Christmas tree lots were all lit up. It would give her time to unpack a few things from Luke's apartment before they came home with the tree, and she thought it would be good for Gus to spend some time alone with Luke creating something that felt like tradition.
She spent the afternoon filling the fridge and unpacking enough items so that they had linens on the beds and clothes to sleep in, but she didn't worry about much more than that. In Gus' room, paint canisters in yellow and orange awaited Luke's attempt at giraffes, and Finch was warily eying the backyard from Luke's old couch, which was set up in front of the television in the living room. Petti was on the kitchen counter, alternating between hating the world and wanting to pounce on the soup that was simmering on the stove. The windows were open, and the house cooled as night fell. Wren took a quick shower, and then she joined the dog on the couch and started setting out boxes of ornaments and strings of lights she'd managed to rush and buy the night before. Christmas in Connecticut was on the television, though she knew Gus would change it as soon as he came through the door, but she was willing to lose herself in it in the meantime. Old, black and white movies were still her favorites, even after all these years.
It was with reluctance that she left the lights and ornaments behind to get changed into something other than the bathrobe she'd fished out of a box, and by the time she heard a car pull into the drive, she was dressed in a pair of cream leggings and a soft, hooded sweater in rose. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, still damp, and she was barefoot. She was nervous, but she couldn't put why into words. Maybe it was just all this, and the reality that it would be so easy to lose it. Or maybe it was just the fluttering of butterfly wings, and the silly feeling that still took her over sometimes when Luke was around. And, yes, she was scared. They always did fine when they were apart, when they had a chance to realize what it was not to have one another. It was being together that they didn't do so very well at, and she thought this all might be so much harder to lose than an apartment that had never been hers, that a relationship that had never felt exactly permanent. It made her want to run, just as much as it made her want to stay, but the sound of the door opening and Finch barking made all that unimportant, even if she wasn't sure she could walk out into the living room without blushing.
Even as a kid, Luke had never gone to a genuine Christmas tree lot. His parents hadn’t had the time, really, and with such an abundance of fake trees to choose from, which promised durability, there was no need to. A fake tree could still be decorated, still light up the room and boast presents beneath, but when Wren had suggested taking Gus to one he’d never once considered saying no. This was the little boy’s first Christmas with them, his first away from those terrible people, and he wanted to do everything he could to make it special. He thought it might help ease some of the strangeness of the new house, too, though the prospect of giraffes painted on his walls and a real yard to play in were useful tools to coax him into adjusting a little easier than he might normally have.
So, while Wren stayed behind to unpack, he took Gus and his newly-leased car as dusk fell to hunt for the perfect Christmas tree. It took awhile, mostly because Gus was dazzled by all the lights, and so thrilled by all the trees that he had a hard time choosing just one. Luke left the choice entirely up to the little boy, something he almost seemed in disbelief of at first, until he realized it wasn’t a joke and he wouldn’t be scolded for speaking his mind. In the end, darkness had already fallen by the time Gus made his choice, babbling on about how he was going to name the tree after some cartoon character and asking a million questions about what decorations he was allowed to put on it. The man who ran the lot smiled and remarked that Gus was quite the talker, referring to him as your son, and in a split second decision Luke decided not to correct him. He simply nodded, smiled, and paid for the tree before carrying it back to the car. Gus, to give him his due, had watched the exchange with wide eyes, but said nothing as he followed behind.
Once the tree was safely strapped to the roof, and Gus was buckled into his seat, they headed back to the house, making a quick detour for hot chocolate (Luke had a very, very hard time denying the boy anything, since he so rarely asked for things) which made them a few minutes later than they should have been. It was Gus who burst into the house first, eyes bright, shouting that they were home and laughing as Finch raced to greet him as though they’d been separated for months. Luke followed a few minutes later, tree in tow, and both father and son were clad in jeans and sweaters, dark green and red respectively. It felt good, coming home, even if it was brand new, to a family he’d never thought he would have, and it made him realize just how badly he wanted this, just how scared he was to lose it all.
“Wren?” He set the tree down for just then, brushing off pine needles that had stuck to his sweater, and looked up expectantly.
Wren hung back, staying just inside the bedroom door until she heard Luke's voice, and then she peeked out into the living room just as Gus came running to the bedroom. As a result, she ended up with an armful of little boy, as she crouched to stop the collision, and a faceful of barking, licking dog. Gus giggled, and Wren brushed some chocolate off the corner of Gus' mouth with her thumb. "Where's my chocolate?" she asked, only to be informed that "Luke had drunked it," along with a jerky point of the little boy's thumb back toward the living room and the tree and Luke.
She wasn't allowed to stay where she was for more than a minute, because Gus was dragging her back to the living room, where he proceeded to help Luke get the tree upright by closing his fingers around one branch and making sounds of great and industrious work, all without breaking a sweat. The little boy babbled, and Wren sat on the arm of the couch and surreptitiously changed the television to Christmas music while Gus lisped about all his Christmas tree lot accomplishments which, she agreed, were tres impressive and le quenise.
Once the little boy was pleased with his work, Wren called him over and ruffled his messy hair. "Change out of that sweater and those jeans, bebe." She knew, given how late it was, that he'd pass out during (or just after) this tree trimming experience, and he might as well be comfortable. "Take Finch," she suggested, when the little boy looked at the tree like it might run away if he took his eyes off it for even a minute; Finch usually worked better than any other form of coercion with Gus.
After a moment longer (and a promise of milk cookies), Gus ran off to the bedroom with Finch on his heels, and Wren finally turned to Luke. Her cheeks were still warm, and she knew that it was silly to be embarrassed because of a house and a tree, but she was, and she laughed quietly and pressed her fingers to her cheeks. "Remind me that I'm not a teenager anymore, and Christmas trees aren't supposed to make me blush," she said from her place on the arm of the couch, ignoring the timer ding that told her she needed to get the soup off the stove. "Hi," she added shyly. "Come here?"
Maybe it had something to do with the knowledge that Wren hadn't always been secure in her relationship with Gus, but seeing the little boy run into her arms and drag her back into the living room, entirely comfortable in her presence, made his throat feel tight and tugged on some familiar ache in his chest, though it hurt in a good way. The last thing he wanted to do was to start emoting all over everyone, however, and Luke quickly adopted an expression of false innocence when Gus mentioned him drinking the hot chocolate, before breaking into a grin a moment later.
“You gonna help me out, kiddo?” The boy’s exaggerated efforts to help made him laugh, but he played along and pretended that Gus was doing all the work, while he was just along for the ride, commending him on his strength and lamenting his own weakness. He liked seeing this newfound confidence in his son, and he hung back and let the little boy do what he would with the tree, even if his idea of straightening it was tugging on the branches while he babbled on to Wren about their Christmas tree lot adventures. In this, he was content to watch, to take the role of the bystander, and he was admittedly curious to see how Wren would coax him into changing once he was satisfied with the tree’s positioning and stature. He hid a smile when she used Finch as a bribe, since he’d often done the same, and milk and cookies were a surefire way to get any kid to do just about anything. “I’ll keep an eye on your tree until you get back,” he vowed, with emphasized seriousness that Gus missed, and he smiled as both boy and dog raced off for the bedroom and what would probably be a pretty quick change of clothes.
His gaze was all warmth with a hint of teasing as it settled on her, and the sight of her flushed cheeks just made him smile. “You’re not a teenager anymore, but I still like seeing you blush,” he said. “If I knew it was as easy as getting a Christmas tree, I would’ve gotten one a long time ago.” He paid the timer no attention at all, and when she asked him to come he approached with a lazy sort of stride that came to a halt once he was close enough, both hands coming to rest on the arm of the couch, on either side of her. “Hi,” he echoed, tipping his head back slightly to look up at her.
Wren listened to the sounds in the bedroom for a few seconds, the dog barking and Gus' happy babble as he informed Finch that he wasn't allowed to eat the tree, and by the time she looked back, Luke was close enough for her to touch. She didn't, though. She waited for him to rest his hands on the arm of the couch, and she smiled at his familiar greeting. "Hi," she repeated unnecessarily, and then she laughed and shook her head at her own silliness, damp blonde hair slipping out from behind her ears and clinging to her cheeks. "I think you'd have a hard time finding a Christmas tree outside of December, Luke," she told him, once she was done laughing at herself.
She'd missed him. They'd seen each other for a few minutes during the house hunting, but they'd been with the realtor, and there hadn't been any time alone. And, true to her word, she hadn't stayed over even once in the past weeks. Too, she knew, that Bruce was getting a lot of time in Gotham to make amends, and she'd been letting Selina have a fair amount of time too. Despite the other woman's insistence that she was a villain, Wren knew Selina did a fair amount to calm some of the younger members of Bruce's family, and she assumed Bruce would need all the help he could get. It didn't mean she'd forgiven him, and it didn't mean she wasn't still angry with him, but she understood that things being peaceful in Gotham meant things being peaceful for Luke, and she was all for that. But, no, she hadn't seen very much of him, and time alone had been practically nonexistent. Even right then, she knew they had about five minutes before Gus came bounding back into the living room. No point in wasting it, and she stretched against him and placed a teasingly chaste kiss to his jaw. One of her hands smoothed his sweater down, before her fingers slid beneath the hem and rucked it up. "You're going to get warm in this," she said, suggesting, and then she slipped her hands away innocently and sat back on the arm of the couch again, chaste and conservative.
"Oh," she added, knowing their time was limited. Gus listened to everything, even if he tended to just stare with wide-grey eyes, rather than commenting. "Selina wants a few days through the door. She has to go to Egypt," she said incredulously. She did appreciate the fact that Selina was being honest these days, but going to Egypt still sounded strange and otherworldly to someone who knew nothing about life in Gotham. "We can tell Gus I'm visiting someone for the weekend?" she asked, even as the little boy in question came rounding the corner in socks and pajamas, his little feet sliding all over on the unfamiliar wood floor. She laughed, and she slid her own feet to the floor, using her body to nudge Luke back, intentionally crowding close and then nudging. "Careful, bebe," she managed, just as Gus intentionally slid into Luke's leg with as much speed as he could. Sliding on the floor was clearly going to become a game.
During the past couple of weeks, moments like this had been practically non-existent. For all Luke teased and coaxed, Wren had spent every night in her hotel room, and even when picking out houses they’d had the constant presence of the realtor, who’d seemed determined not to give them a moment alone. All the time he’d been spending in Gotham made it a little easier, since the days passed by quicker, and Bruce’s problems were an apt distraction, but the truth was that he’d missed her (and this) just as much as she’d missed him. “I could find a Christmas tree any time of the year,” he teased. “I have my ways.” He thought she was going to kiss him when she stretched up against him, and he leaned in accordingly, but the feel of her lips against his jaw made him laugh in surprise. She’d always been better at these kinds of games; he was less patient, less capable of waiting, and he almost always ended up losing. “Am I? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” He shifted closer when her fingers slipped beneath his sweater, and he couldn’t help stealing a quick kiss, aware their time was limited before Gus made his reappearance. As much as he didn’t want it to end, he relented when she sat back on the arm of the couch, letting out a long, carefully controlled exhale. Restraint was going to be a lot harder than he’d expected.
He frowned when she said Selina wanted to go to Egypt, because where the hell had that come from? Bruce had no concrete answer, but he did have a suspicion that it had something to do with Ra’s Al Ghul, which was far from reassuring. “What’s she have to do there?” Selina probably hadn’t gone into specifics, but hey, maybe this time she had. As for telling Gus she was visiting someone for the weekend, he nodded, even though he didn’t like the thought of her being gone for so long again. “I don’t,” he began, intending to voice his displeasure, but then Gus came sliding around the corner and he was forced to keep quiet. “Careful,” he warned, nearly echoing Wren’s caution, and he took his eyes off the little boy for a moment when she crowded against him to nudge him backward. “Oh, that is not fair,” he muttered under his breath, pressing his fingers against her hips for a moment, before a pajama-clad little body crashed into his leg at full speed. It was almost enough to throw him off balance, and he just managed to catch himself against the side of the couch before stooping down to scoop up the little boy, who was in the midst of a giggling fit.
“You’re going to slide right out the door if you keep that up, kiddo.” There was no chastisement in his tone, nothing scolding, and Finch wound himself around their legs, barking like mad, until he set Gus down and the little boy went sliding off towards the tree, babbling about how cool they were going to make the tree look. Luke, for his part, grinned. “Obviously I’ve taught him well.”
"I'd like to see you try to find a Christmas tree in August without going up into the mountains," she said, and she liked the sound of his laughter, the way that it rumbled in his chest and made her feel like everything in the world might be okay for once. She wanted to catch that laughter, to press her fingers against his chest and feel the mirth beneath her fingertips. She was lost in that thought when he stole the kiss, and she laughed against his lips and pulled back before he could even think of deepening it. "Take off the sweater," she added, innocent and husky. "The tree will wait," she promised, much as they'd promised Gus moments earlier. "Anyway, there's a fireplace. We should try it. It's supposed to get into the forties tonight," she explained, and she glanced over at the fireplace, and then quirked a brow, challenging. There hadn't been anything as nice as a fireplace in their apartment in New York, and the fires at Thomas' had been set by the staff. She wasn't even sure he knew how to get one started, but she'd love to see him try.
As for Selina, she had a little more information that usual, which was saying something, even if none of it made a lot of sense to her. "She's going to get something from a tomb. She says that Damian thinks there will be magic and traps, but nothing she can't handle. She claims Damian would have insisted on going if there was any real danger." She didn't know enough about Damian's relationship with Selina to know if that was true, but she suspected Luke would know if it was a lie. But then there was a little boy being scooped up in a fit of giggles, and Wren let her fingers press against one of Luke's hips, much as he'd done to her a moment earlier. Luke's muttering made her blush again, and she ruffled Gus' hair and kissed one of his pudgy hands. "I have to put the soup in the fridge, or there won't be lunch for tomorrow," she said, and her smile made it pretty obvious that she loved having a kitchen again. Someone else might mind being trapped behind a stove, but she had such good memories of cooking, and she loved the way the house smelled when spices kissed the air.
She slipped away as Gus ran toward the tree and demanded that Luke put lights "all overs." It was nice to see the little boy so happy. He was still having nightmares, but he seemed to be doing better now, and maybe the new house would do the trick. The combination of the house and Christmas, which he'd spent the entire week asking tentative questions about, might do more than they ever could to make Gus feel okay about things. She spent the next few minutes in the kitchen, putting soup in containers and setting out three glasses of milk and a plate of cookies, as promised, which she carried out to the living room in time to hear Gus asking Luke about presents, and if Santa would know where to find him, since he'd never brought him things before. She set the tray and cookies on the floor, where Gus wouldn't have to reach up to get them, and then she sat down on the floor herself, ignoring the couch in favor of being closer.
“Okay,” he said impulsively, the words coming easier, with less thought, by being so close to her while still having to keep a certain amount of distance, even if it wasn’t literal. “Next August, I’ll get us a Christmas tree.” Denying her anything had always been hard, even the smallest of requests, and while he’d brushed it off the first time, the second time she asked--or told, really, since it was more of a statement--him to take the sweater off was when he relented. Beneath the sweater, which he pulled over his head with only a minor struggle, he wore a t-shirt, black and a little snug, and he made a valiant effort to maintain regulated, normal breaths, though she was probably aware of the effect she had on him no matter what he did to try to hide it. He glanced over his shoulder at the fireplace, and returned her challenging quirk of brows with a smug grin. “If a fire is what you want,” he informed her, “then a fire is what you’ll get. I’ll make it warm enough, so you don’t get cold.” The only fireplaces he had experience with were ones where a switch made the flames appear, but he shrugged that off as unimportant. It couldn’t be that hard to start one little fire in a fireplace, after all.
If he hadn’t been sure Selina’s Egypt trip had something to do with Ra’s before, both he and Bruce were dead certain now. No one else would have an interest in tombs with magic and traps. As for Damian insisting on going if there was any real danger, he had no idea; it was widely accepted that Selina could take care of herself, and maybe the boy underestimated his grandfather. Maybe he thought he couldn’t leave Gotham. Either way, none of it made him feel any better about what she was going to do, and his expression was marred with concern as he looked down at her. “Please tell her to be careful,” he whispered, low so Gus wouldn’t hear, and then he was too distracted by the little boy in question, who was still too full of energy and hadn’t yet begun the downward spiral that would eventually lead into sleep. “Better go take care of the soup, then,” he said, all teasing and grin, liking the way she smiled when she talked about tomorrow’s lunch. Luke would never force her to do anything, cooking included, but if she enjoyed it, who was he to tell her no? Whatever she wanted, whatever made her happy, she could have.
While Wren was in the kitchen, Luke took it upon himself to collect the lights and string them around the tree. At first, Gus was content to lisp orders and point at where he wanted them, but then he started trying to do it himself, which resulted in the little boy being lifted up so he could reach and toss string after string of light where his childish judgment decided they should be. Ornaments were tricker, and could come later; lights first, and then he could handle the rest. besides, Gus seemed to enjoy changing his mind and moving the lights, wanting a bright Christmas tree, like a star, and even though it wasn’t perfect, Gus was proud of his progress. As soon as he set the boy down, he watched as Finch curled up beneath the branches to watch and brought up the subject of Santa. It killed him to hear that he’d never gotten presents before, and there was a flare of something like anger in his expression just as Wren entered the room; but he rid himself of it quickly, and knelt in front of the little boy with a smile.
“Of course Santa knows where you are,” he told him. “See, I’m pretty good friends with him too, and I know for a fact that he’s going to make your presents extra-special this year, to make up for before. He just got a little... lost, that’s all, but don’t worry. I gave him directions, and he has me on speed dial.” Gus simply stared for a moment, wide-eyed, before nodding, and it only took a little nudge to have him scampering off for milk and cookies.
She had a great image of Luke trying to find a live Christmas tree in summer, only to end up ordering a fake one from Amazon and claiming it fit the requirements. It would be just like him, and the thought made her smile. He'd always been so concerned with pleasing others, with making the people around him happy, and the tree was a perfect example of that. She smiled as he slipped his sweater off, because she knew he'd done it for the same reason that he'd agreed to the summer tree, and she let her grey gaze drag slowly over the too-snug shirt. She could recommend shopping, new undershirts for Christmas, or another shirt altogether, but she didn't. "You're so pretty," she said, and the innocent and chaste words were husky-heat as her gaze met his again. There was something about seeing him that made her want to touch him, but that was nothing new. That went all the way back to when they were just kids, and it hadn't changed at all. If anything, it had just gotten more pronounced. As for the fireplace, there was wood in it and starter, which she'd picked up at the store, but she hadn't risked it herself. The last thing she wanted to do was burn the house on their first day there. But okay, if he said he could do it, she believed him. She tugged off her own sweater in a show of faith, revealing a short-sleeved, cling-soft,white shirt that reached mid thigh, paired with the cream leggings she wore.
"It won't be until next week," she said of Selina's escapades in Egypt. "I think Bruce asked her somewhere before then, so we have a full week to worry about it." But to her, magic and traps seemed so strange that she couldn't even get herself worked up over it. The entire thing was out of sight, out of mind by the time she settled back down in front of the tree to watch Gus instruct Luke to cover every bit of green with a light of some sort. She sipped on her own glass of milk, and she hummed along to the music, and she tried to keep from tearing up. It didn't work very well when Luke consoled Gus about Santa and assured him that old St. Nick would know how to find him, and Wren grabbed the scampering little boy onto her lap when he had swallowed down his milk and left crumbs everywhere from the cookies. She used the hem of Gus' pajama shirt to wipe his face as he squirmed, and the way he settled in her lap let her know that all this activity was going to knock him out early. She kissed his mop of brown hair, and she nodded toward the tree as her arms slid around his waist. From his new position, Gus pointed at empty spots, and he babbled for a while before asking Luke if Santa knew where to find him when he was small.
In the midst of all that, Finch tried to drink the remaining glass of milk, which resulted in squeals and barking and Wren disappearing to the kitchen in order to grab a damp cloth to clean up the floor. She could hear Gus asking Luke if he was in trouble, which just made her heart ache, but she managed to put a good face on by the time she was ready to go back out to the living room. She always felt guilty about all the things Gus had suffered when he was smaller, and she knew she always would. The fact that she'd changed her mind in the end, it didn't change the fact that she had intended to give him away, and that she might have ended up doing it even if the Johnsons hadn't stolen him away. But Luke was right when he said they couldn't change the past; they could only change now. She tossed the damp washcloth at Luke once she left the kitchen, and she turned off the living room lights as she passed the switches, leaving the room entirely dark, save for the Christmas tree, which made Gus' entire face light up. Winter Wonderland was playing on the television's music channel, and she scooped Gus up and swayed with him, showering his face with kisses that just made him squirm and wipe at his cheeks. He was getting so heavy, and she wouldn't be able to carry him for much longer, which was bittersweet. He settled down, and he put his head on her shoulder, and she kissed one of his flushed cheeks as she swayed. She thought for a moment, but not for very long, before she whispered, "ask your père if he wants to dance with us." Simple, quiet. It was a word Gus knew, and she was sure she was only imagining her heart beating wildly over the music.
He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a mock exasperated look, but while the two of them would never see eye-to-eye when it came to being pretty or beautiful, Luke had reached the point where he was less inclined to argue, and now he just shook his head. “You’re the pretty one,” he countered, not bothering to hide the want in his gaze as he watched her pull off her sweater in return. The urge to touch her was near overwhelming, and resisting required a lot of restraint on his part, but he managed, letting out a long, long sigh as he looked at her. As for starting a fire, he had enough faith in himself that he wasn’t afraid of setting the house aflame; no, if anything, he’d just completely fail to start one at all and end up looking like a fool.
“Oh, yeah... some party,” he shrugged, pulling a face. Normally he would have no interest whatsoever in Bruce’s romantic entanglements, but things with Selina were already complicated, and he just hoped the other man knew what he was doing and didn’t end up making even more of a disaster than he already had. He was still worried about this Egypt trip, and even though Bruce’s Ra’s hadn’t had the Lazarus Pit, or any weird magic shit, he’d read the comics, and none of it made him feel any better about Selina’s decision to play double agent. He had a vague, fleeting thought of talking to her about it at some point, warning her to be careful, because when it came to Ra’s Al Ghul anyone Bruce cared about was a weakness to be exploited; now, though, he didn’t want to think about any of that. He split his attention between the tree and watching Wren and Gus, something that felt a lot like the sort of happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time choking up his throat and making his chest hurt when he tried to breathe. It was a good sort of pain, this, and he followed all of the little boy’s instructions as closely as he could to ensure the tree was just as he wanted. Gus’ babbled question about his own past made him pause, and his expression turned wistful as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, with a quiet sort of smile. “Santa always knew where to find me. My mom and dad made sure he did too.” But then he’d gotten older, and a lot of that magic had ebbed away; he hoped, as much as he could, that didn’t happen with Gus. Not like it had with him, at least.
For a big dog, Finch could move pretty quickly when he wanted to, and milk was spreading across the floor before anyone could do anything about it. As much as he struggled with his temper, Luke wasn’t the least bit bothered by things like this, and when Gus asked if he was in trouble he couldn’t help giving the boy an instinctive, reassuring hug, as though that would change what he’d experienced with the Johnsons. “Of course not, kiddo. Accidents happen, and Finch is sneaky,” he said, which earned him a quick giggle of agreement. He caught the damp washcloth with ease and a boyish grin before getting down on all fours to clean up the spilled milk, while Finch followed his movements, tail wagging, as though it was all some big game he’d coaxed them into playing. A combination of the music and his own lack of attention meant that he didn’t hear what Wren had whispered, and he didn’t see Gus’ reaction; he normally adopted the same sort of expression when he was confused, struggling to understand something just out of reach, and had he known what had just occurred, the extended silence that followed on the little boy’s part might have worried him. Gus looked between the two of them, chewing on his lower lip, before he finally spoke. “Wanna dance with us?” The question was asked shyly, barely audible over the music, and Luke looked up with a smile. He started to respond, but then Gus tacked on an equally shy père at the end of his request, a lisped echo of Wren’s French, and he had enough knowledge of the language to know what that word meant. He knew, then, that the question must have come from her, and he rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth as he got to his feet in an attempt to keep his rising emotion at bay.
“Tell your mother I’d love to dance with you,” was his response, and somehow using mother and father made it all the more real. He found Wren’s hand with his once they were close enough, using the other to ruffle Gus’ mop of hair with no shortage of fondness.
She wanted to touch him just as badly as he wanted to touch her, and she didn't bother trying to hide that look in her eyes. It had been awhile, since before the party, since before the toxin, and since before MK, and October seemed really far away. She liked that his restraint was hardwon, that she could see he wanted her. It was something that, maybe, she shouldn't need anymore, that proof, but after things with MK, well, she needed a little reminding.
She laughed at his reaction to Bruce's party invitation. She didn't know anything about it, not more than she'd just said, but she was imagining some uncomfortably stiff invitation on Bruce's part, which entertained her to no end. But she understood Luke's worry too; Selina did stupid things when she was upset, even if she never told anyone she was upset in the first place. "Maybe he's trying to apologize for messing up. A party seems like a pretty good apology for someone like Selina, especially if it's a ritzy one," she reasoned. Luckily, she didn't share his concerns about the entire al Ghul family, and so it didn't mar the evening for her. She might contact Bruce to give him dating advice, which she suspected he needed really, really badly, but that was it. She was much more interested in Luke talking to Gus about Santa Claus, and she followed up Luke's assertions with questions about what Gus wanted Santa to bring him. The wishlist started very small and very uncertainly, and then it grew when no one stopped Gus from adding things to it, until a Wii was being asked for, along with all kinds of games that Wren knew nothing about, and that she was pretty sure he was too small for. But she didn't interrupt, and until Finch's milk catastrophe, she just let him babble to his little heart's content, while she tried to figure out what she was going to get Luke for Christmas.
Luke's reaction to the milk spilling all over made her smile a teary smile, and she was going to be lucky if she made it through the night without weeping at this point. She didn't know if Luke had heard her coaxing whisper, and she considered somehow taking it all back during that long period of lip-bite silence. What if she'd just made it worse? What if Luke had been right? If Gus was too young? She was about ready to panic when Gus asked his tentative question, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't sound heartbroken or traumatized. The tiny père that Gus tacked on at the end of the request almost made her sob, and it took all her restraint to keep herself still and quiet, as if it wasn't any big deal at all. Even with that, she couldn't help a kiss to the little boy's hair, and she gave Luke a nervous smile as he rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth.
Luke had always been really, really bad about discussing emotions, about anything emotional, really. He'd always been shy smiles and little head ducks, and she expected the same thing from him now. His reply surprised her then, because it was so direct. It was such an example of how he'd changed, how he'd grown up when she wasn't looking, and she couldn't help the hitched intake of breath that followed. Gus raised his head from her shoulder, sleepy grey eyes just as wide-quietly questioning as they'd been a moment earlier. Her own eyes welled up, and she wondered who the little boy had gotten that direct gaze from, because neither she nor Luke could pull that off. But then Luke's hand found hers, and okay, she could do this without falling into tears in the middle of the living room. Gus gave Luke a curious look when Luke ruffled his hair, but he didn't question anything. Wren knew that there would be questions when the little boy had a chance to think a little, but just then it seemed okay. She stretched enough to press a kiss to Luke's cheek, which made Gus pull a face, and she tickled him with the hand that was around his tiny waist. "You like kisses, bebe," she insisted, if only to make him squeal in protest which, predictably, he did. She shifted the little boy into Luke's arms, and she let her hand drag along Luke's back once her hand was free. There was just the Christmas music for a few minutes, and she was loathe to move, almost sure Gus had fallen asleep until she heard his sleepy mumble of "père" and "mère," as if he was testing out the words.
Normally, Bruce wasn’t all that difficult to figure out considering he was privy to quite a bit of his thought processes, but in this, all the rules went out the window. He wasn’t good with the emotional side of things, with feelings, and it was all so complicated and jumbled up that Luke didn’t even bother trying to sort it all out. Bruce was on his own with this one, not that he’d be much help anyway. “Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s a ritzy party, I know that. Bruce doesn’t really like them, but when he goes, it’s always thrown by some millionaire or billionaire like him.” At least a party would be harmless, so long as it was nothing like that one birthday bash of his, where Ra’s decided to crash the festivities and his house had burned to the ground by the end of the night. Like Wren, however, he was more interested in Gus’ Christmas list for Santa, and he couldn’t help a quiet laugh at just how many things the little boy asked for when no one intervened or told him to stop. Gus would, admittedly, probably be the easiest to buy for out of everyone; he still had no idea what to get Wren, or anyone else, and his desire to find something perfect did make him more than a little picky. “Santa’s going to be a busy guy,” he teased, but when Gus’ expression fell into the worried territory he quickly tried to backtrack. “He likes being busy, kiddo. It’s what he does. And those elves, they like being busy too, or else what would they spend their time doing? You ask for whatever you want, don’t worry.” He flashed a reassuring smile, which seemed to soothe the little boy’s concerns over asking for too much, at least for now.
In a way, it was almost reassuring to see his own struggle to keep his emotions under control mirrored in Wren’s expression. He’d always kept things inside out of a misguided fear that he was the only one feeling them, and no one else would understand, even when the exact opposite was true. He half expected Gus to question their use of mother and father, to ask why, but he didn’t, even though his sleepy-curious gaze made it clear that would come later, once he’d slept and had time to think. But when it did come, they would deal with it then, and as he smiled down at the little boy he felt like, for once, it might actually be okay. His hand tightened around hers when she kissed his cheek, and laughed when Gus pulled a face and protested his supposed like of kisses. “Trust me, kiddo, one day you’ll love them. They’re some of the best things in life,” he teased, with added warmth, and he marvelled at how heavy Gus had become when he found his arms suddenly full of sleepy, small child. A warm sort of quiet settled over the three of them, punctuated only by the music, and he’d just turned towards the bedroom when his sleepy mumbles sounded out from against his shirt.
His smile was shaky, but it was genuine nonetheless, and Luke rubbed Gus’ back soothingly as he nodded. “That’s right,” he said quietly. “That’s who we are.” He looked up at Wren and tipped his head in the direction of Gus’ bedroom, since the little boy was more asleep than awake at this point, and Finch roused himself from beneath the Christmas tree to follow; he spent nearly every night sleeping at the foot of his bed, and it seemed even in a new house that wasn’t going to change.
Wren listened as Luke reassured the little boy about asking for presents, and she wished (not for the first time) that she'd given Luke a chance to do this from go. She knew she was slipping right back into regret territory, because her good intentions there never lasted very long, but he was so good at this. She'd never had a father, and she always imagined her own father as being much older than Luke, but she imagined him being just like this. Never getting angry, having endless patience, and denying her nothing. That's what fathers were supposed to do, or at least that had been her childish belief. But Luke was really like that, and she was so sorry she hadn't given him the chance to do it from the beginning. She smiled, and she decided to add a few more shifts next week. It wouldn't hurt, and she was feeling back to normal now, and it would mean a few extra gifts under the tree.
Luke's assurance that Gus would, someday, grow to love kisses earned Luke a kiss on the lips, which just made Gus crinkle his nose with disbelief as he settled in Luke's arms. It was amazing how much heavier he was when he was tired, and Wren could still remember the way he felt in her arms the first time she'd picked him up, only months ago. He seemed so much heavier now. She caught that shaky smile on Luke's face, and she trailed her fingers along the nape of his neck. She stared, mesmerized by the quiet tone of his voice, the adoration there. Years ago, if someone had told her she wouldn't mind Luke loving someone as much as he loved her, she wouldn't have believed it. But this was different, and it was different in a way that she didn't think could ever be put into words. She nodded when he tipped his head, and she stepped back to let Finch trail them into the bedroom.
She lingered in the doorway, watching as Luke put Gus to bed, and she flicked the switch for the tiny, lit tree that took the place of Gus' perpetual night light. The small tree cast soft, tiny lights around the room, and she rested her cheek against the doorframe and tried not to think about losing all this, tried not to worry about waking up one day to find it all gone. She pushed away from the door eventually, seconds upon seconds later, and she ran her hand over Luke's back as she leaned over and kissed Gus' forehead. She murmured in French, fingers smoothing down the pajama top over Gus' belly, quiet words of endearment that made the little boy sigh sleepily and mumble nonsensically, lashes fanning along his cheeks, and then lifting again as he fought sleep. Finch barked, and Gus turned sleepy grey eyes to Luke, and he asked if Luke was only going to be his "daddy" forever, or if it was going to be for just a "wittle bit?" Wren pressed a kiss to Luke's hair, and she gave him a look that said she'd be in the living room; they should have their time alone. Reluctantly, she ducked out of the room a second later.
Unaware of Wren’s thoughts and regret, Luke often found himself wishing that he’d been there from the very beginning, that things had turned out differently, though he no longer held her choices against her. He had been just as much at fault, after all, and lamenting the past wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. The little boy’s disbelief when it came to liking kisses was achingly endearing, and the kiss to his lips made him grin, a flicker of something in his gaze betraying surprise before the warmth settled in. “Give it time,” he said in a stage whisper, as though it was a secret between the two of them, and after shifting his weight more comfortably in his arms he carried the little boy into the bedroom and gingerly set him down. It was sweet, really, to watch him try to valiantly to fight sleep when his eyelids were drooping, and after some careful maneuvering he managed to get Gus under the covers and comfortably tucked in. Finch curled up at his feet with a soft wuff, head on his paws, as the lights from the tiny plug-in tree covered the room in glowing dots.
He turned at the feel of her hand along his back, and took a small step away from the bed, wanting to give her space to say her goodnight to the little boy and very much content to simply watch. But then Gus was asking how long he was going to be his daddy for, and it broke his heart that he’d even thought to ask that question at all. For a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak, and he brushed his fingers against Wren’s shoulder in silent gratitude as she moved past him and slipped out of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing back some stray brown hair that fell across the boy’s forehead as he wanted for a response. “Forever,” Luke told him, voice hushed in the quiet, dark room. “I’ll be your daddy forever. No matter what, I’ll always be here. Promise.” Gus was quiet for a few moments, rubbing at his eyes in a sleepy attempt to stay awake, before asking in his lisp about Wren, and whether she was going to be his mommy forever too. He nodded, told him the same, that they were both going to be his parents forever, even as Gus’ eyes grew heavier and heavier. Luke hesitated for a moment, looking down at the little boy, before leaning closer. “We both love you, kiddo. Remember that.” He received a mumbled, unthinking reply of oui mixed with things he couldn’t understand, and after another long, long moment he forced himself to stand and back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
If it had been anyone else but Wren out there in the living room, he would have waited until he had himself composed and his emotions safely under control. But it was her, and so he rounded the corner without hesitation, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar, telling way. “He’s too cute for his own good,” he said, managing a shaky smile.