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hacash · 3 years

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Home for Christmas

my @tedlassosecretsanta gift for @beatricexbenedick - happy holidays!

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T’was the morning of Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a –

“Uncle ISAAAAAAC….”

Without opening his eyes Isaac buries himself further into the bed, pushing his face under the pillow. Every Christmas Eve, he spends the night at his parents’ house. And every Christmas morning, he remembers why that isn’t necessarily a good idea.

“Don’t say nothing. Like, don’t even move.”

“Are you awake?”

The lump beneath the covers besides him gives an indistinct mumble, and Isaac clamps his hand over Colin’s mouth. Jesus, it’s like A Quiet Place in here.

“She’ll go back to sleep in a minute. Promise.”

“It’s time for preseeeeeeents…”

One arm reaches out from the covers, flailing around for a moment until Colin can lay hold of his phone. When he sees the little 4:15 AM winking away the Welshman gives a whimper. “Christ on a bike.”

“Just shush,” Isaac hisses. There’s another knock on the door and then the sound of little four-year-old feet shuffling down the corridor. With a smirk Isaac rolls over to bury his head into the curve of Colin’s neck. “See? Told you.”

“God, she’s terrifying. Like the Terminator only with bunny slippers.”

“Oi. That’s my niece you’re talking about.”

A snort, and Colin hooks an arm around Isaac’s waist, pulling him close. “Must run in the family then.”

He chuckles. Colin can grumble all he wants: last night Isaac caught him sneaking chocolate coins to Ella from the top shelf of his parents’ pantry, so he’s fairly certain Colin loves her really.

“What’s Christmas morning like for your lot?”

Colin gives another sleepy mew of thought. “Mari and Tessa’s kids are older. I just tell them if they wake me before seven I’ll hang them by their ankles out the window.” When Isaac muffles his laugh against Colin’s skin his boyfriend chuckles. “But the twins…Catrin and Anwyn are the same age as your Ella, and they’re really fucking cute, so I just…yeah, I just get up when they get up and help open the presents.”

“You are such a pushover.”

“They’re so fucking adorable, Isaac. I’d keep them, but I don’t know what to feed five year olds.”

“Is this why we spent five hours last Saturday wandering around the shops trying to find the right Paw Patrol toy?” Despite their million-pound contracts, Isaac is fairly certain one of these days Colin is going to bankrupt himself not through booze, fast cars and loose women (or even fast women and loose cars) but from trying to buy his nieces every single piece of trashy, brightly coloured plastic in the Western Hemisphere.

“It’s the special City Lookout Tower,” Colin grumbles pedantically. “Catrin already has the Mighty Lookout Tower…”

“Shurrup,” he orders. “Sleep time. Not toy time.” From down the hall he can hear the sound of his sister and brother-in-law making the same desperate plea, interspersed with various squeaks from Ella.

Going by the increase in volume, it sounds like she’s already discovered the toy kazoo ‘Captain Santa’ left in her stocking. Oops.

His sister may never forgive him.

“Hmm,” Colin mumbles sleepily. “Starting to wake up though. You could give me my Christmas present now, if you wanted.” He wriggles pointedly up against Isaac, nuzzling against his neck.

God, that’s tempting. Already Isaac’s body is starting to wake up to Colin’s ministrations, and he sighs, running a hand down the smooth line of Colin’s back. He’d like nothing better…but then if you want to define the opposite of ‘aphrodisiac’, it’s being back in your childhood bedroom with your parents’ room adjoining yours and old posters of Formula One cars and Karen Gillian still hanging on the walls. (He had a thing for Amy from Doctor Who when he was a teenager, ok?)

Colin follows his gaze travelling around the room and chuckles. “Don’t worry; being back in your childhood bedroom is a total turn-on for me. It’s, like, really hot. In fact, there’s nothing I find sexier than a man who kept all his Beanie Babies under the bed because he thought throwing them away would hurt their feelings…”

“I told you that in confidence, you fucker,” Isaac growls. When Colin, petulant at being ignored, gives another whine and starts trailing kisses along the underside of Isaac’s jaw he bats him gently away. “Oi. Parents in the next room, sister down the hall, screaming niece probably about to burst in at any moment …”

“Prude.”

But Colin’s smiling. When Isaac pulls him into a cuddle he locks his head into the crook of Isaac’s neck, content to stay as they are for now. Sometimes Isaac thinks Colin loves the McAdoo family more than he loves his own.

Actually, that’s not fair. He’s met Mama Hughes and she’s a fucking legend, five foot nothing of unadulterated Welsh awesome. And Colin’s stepdad’s a cool guy, if you ignore the fact that you can trace Colin’s unhealthy relationship with his Lamborghini directly back to Trevor’s love affair with classic cars; and Colin’s sisters are all babes; and their nieces and nephews are an unholy confederation of warring tribes and Isaac can see why Colin loves them so much.

But then there’s Colin’s dad. And Colin’s older brother. He doesn’t talk much about them, but the few times he has Colin’s sounded so fucking little-boy-lost that Isaac had to go outside and stomp around in the street for a good ten minutes rather than lose his temper, because no-one in the world should be making Colin Hughes feel like that.

So yeah, apparently Colin’s family isn’t always easy. Family gatherings aren’t always easy. Which is why Colin’s here in Brixton, in Isaac’s old bedroom, rather than dealing with his emotionally distant father and his arsehole of a brother.

The thought makes Isaac hold his boyfriend a little tighter. Cwtching, that’s what Colin calls it; which is apparently the Welsh lingo for holding someone so tight they can barely breathe and squeezing all the bad out. Snuggling them close and making sure they’re not alone.

Isaac doesn’t know about any of that Welsh stuff. But if Colin doesn’t always feel comfortable back in Swansea, Isaac’s damn well going to make sure the McAdoo household is a place he always feels safe.

They come down early before training, bleary-eyed and unshaven: Isaac in his pyjamas and Colin in boxers and a ratty old t-shirt with The Muppets Christmas Carol emblazoned on the front. Isaac’s older niece, Abby, is already sitting on the stairs assembling the nerf gun Isaac bought her with a fearsome look of concentration upon her face. (His sister isn’t happy with Isaac’s policy of ‘buy my nieces all the loud dangerous toys they actually want and then slope off to training before I have to face the consequences’, but then she used to put ice cubes in his underwear when they were kids so turnabout is fair play, is all Isaac is going to say.) His parents are already downstairs, dressed up in their church best and with Nat King Cole blaring through the sound system.

The sound of Ella’s kazoo is coming from the front room. Loudly.

“Noise,” Colin whimpers. “Why is there noise happening.”

Isaac’s mum arches an eyebrow at him, leans forward to permit him to kiss her cheek. “That’s your fault. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” She dishes up a serving of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, a McAdoo Christmas tradition, and then pulls Colin into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Colin-love.”

“Still coming over to watch the Top Gear Christmas special on Tuesday, Colin?”

Colin attempts to articulate to Isaac’s dad that yes, he is definitely up for Top Gear Tuesday, but the sound is lost from somewhere amongst Isaac’s mother’s not-inconsiderable embrace. (Within two days of meeting Colin Isaac’s mother had decided that he’d clearly not had enough meals, or enough hugs, growing up. Since then she’s been endeavouring to redress the balance.) Finally he manages to resurface, rather pink-faced. “I…uh, yeah, thanks Bill, sounds great.”

“Will you be seeing your parents over Christmas?”

“Mum and Trevor are coming down to London for the Boxing Day match and staying for a few days.” He shrugs, the gesture belonging to a much younger man. “Dad’s busy. Y’know…stuff going on. We’ll catch up in the new year.”

Isaac’s mum’s lips turn thin. She turns around and starts dealing with the washing up very loudly, which Isaac and knows from past experience is her way of avoiding speaking ill of people who really, really deserve it.

“Well, you’re welcome to bring Babs and Trevor over while they’re visiting. The more the merrier!” Where Isaac’s mum is tall and statuesque, Isaac’s dad is small and skinny and good natured. “Isaac said your step-father got you into cars, right? Bring him round for Top Gear Tuesday, we’ll get some beers and snacks in and make an afternoon of it.”

Blushing, Colin ducks his head and murmurs something incomprehensible. Isaac has to hide his smile. He knows how much it surprises Colin when people remember facts about him; he makes a mental note to thank his dad later. (Not to mention, now he doesn’t have to sit through Top Gear himself.) As his mum pushes cups of tea towards them both and urges Colin to help himself to more breakfast, the front door rattles with the sound of two of his sisters coming into the house. “Isaac, help bring in the presents from the car, yeah?”

“I’m still eating! Ask Colin.”

“No, I’m asking you! Shift your lazy backside, it’s not like you’re a professional athlete or anything.” Fran, the eldest, marches in beneath an armful of presents, depositing them under the tree long enough to greet Isaac with a poke in the ribs – their preferred form of showing affection – before enveloping Colin in a hug that nearly knocks him off his chair. “Colin! Oh my God, you look so fucking adorable in that Muppets shirt – ”

“Francesca, language!”

“ – sorry Mum – but you do though, I can’t understand how you’re still slumming it with our idiot brother.” From where he’s still ensconced in Fran’s embrace Colin pokes his tongue out at Isaac, who rolls his eyes straight back at him.

Philippa’s next, kissing Isaac and then Colin on the cheek. “God, she’s right; I wish my boyfriend took half as much trouble over his hair as you do. Isn’t he well fit, Fran? Honestly, if you ever want to chuck Isaac, I know a few guys in the pit crew who’d be dead chuffed to meet you.” Philippa works with the British team for Formula One, which means she knows a lot of incredibly sweaty, greasy mechanics. (It also means that until he started dating Colin, she was Isaac’s favourite sister. He got a lot of dates out of visiting Pip at work.)

“Jesus, stop giving him ideas,” Isaac grumbles good-naturedly.

“You’re just jealous because the mechanics never hung your picture up in the workshop. We had that charity calendar you guys did a year ago: I swear we never moved off February for the whole year while he was there.”

“I’m actually bi,” Colin teases, scrunching his nose playfully up at Isaac, “if that helps widen the pool.”

“Oh yeah? Ok, I know a lot of people I can introduce you to then. Seriously, I can get you laid, like, a lot. Three times a week for the best part of a year, I swear: you’ll need an IV to stop from getting dangerously dehydrated.”

“Philippa!”

“I’m right fucking here, Pip!”

“You know, Debs always used to have such a crush on you when you first joined the team,” Fran jokes: referring to their youngest sister, who’s due to arrive later when she finishes her shift at the hospital. “I reckon she’d be happy to take you off this one’s hands if you ever fancied upgrading - ”

“Oi,” Isaac holds up his hands pre-emptively, “no-one is setting up my boyfriend with my baby sister, alright? I’m drawing a line here.”

“Are we trying to set up Colin?” comes Michelle’s voice from upstairs. “Tell him my friend Tanya’s always fancied him!”

“This is getting on my tits now!”

“Good! You give my daughter a kazoo, you lose your boyfriend: that’s how it works!”

Colin is falling about laughing, jokingly asking Philippa if she has Lewis Hamilton’s number - and it’s alright because Isaac loves the randy little fucker and also because he’d cut off his right foot to see Colin’s eyes so bright, laughing as he is now, because he fucking deserves to be complemented until he can’t see straight.

And Isaac knows Colin’s family, and he likes Colin’s family. They’re very kind (Colin’s dad and that self-obsessed prick Dennis notwithstanding) and very loving, and they’ve always tried to do the best by Colin. But Isaac knows the Hughes’ haven’t always had it easy. He knows Colin’s dad was turned hard-nosed and closed-off by the stress of growing up without much in the world. That Colin’s mum was working two jobs and raising a houseful of kids and a failing marriage, right up to the moment when he first joined the team at Cardiff. That all they wanted was for their kids to keep their heads down, and get decent jobs, and just to get by.

And. Well. Maybe that sort of pressure takes it out of you. When you’re wound so tight by stress and anxiety, you don’t always have the energy to do anything other than survive. So maybe occasionally Colin didn’t get the validation he needed. Maybe sometimes his mum was too tired to see that Dennis would constantly make fun of Colin for his dyslexia and his under-achieving at school. Maybe his dad cared too much about school stuff, and too little about Colin’s other qualities. Maybe some things slipped through the cracks.

Isaac can't judge. Life is really fucking hard sometimes. But shit, Colin deserved better than a shit dad who never had the energy to see him as anything other than a liability.

Isaac’s parents weren’t the richest, but they weren’t the poorest either. He grew up dreaming of buying them a flash new car because it would make them happy, not of paying off the bills. His mum had the time to help him practice his reading after school, his dad took him down the park to practice his dribbling. There was room to breathe.

He was lucky. Fucking lucky. A lot of guys he knows weren’t so fortunate. Colin wasn’t so fortunate.

So yeah. If his sisters want to coo over Colin like that and try and set him up with everyone within the M25 – if Mum spoils him rotten, and if Dad tells bad jokes because he knows it’ll make Colin laugh - then Isaac doesn’t even care, as long as it makes him happy.

As they’re heading out of the house to drive to training – it’s a Christmas present from Isaac: Colin is allowed to drive, and Isaac won’t audibly pray for a safe journey while he’s doing it – Colin flings himself at Isaac like some sort of spider-monkey, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Col,” Isaac gasps, not wholly displeased with this situation. Colin might be slender, but he’s got a grip like a vice. “Can’t breathe.”

“You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?” comes a mumble from within Isaac’s jumper. (He’s decided to forgo the festive tracksuit this year, in favour of a red velvet jumper with the words Sleigh the Patriarchy emblazoned in rhinestones on the chest.)

“Well, yeah,” Isaac snorts, “if you say so.”

A finger pokes him in the side. “No. I mean it. I really fucking love you. And I love this house, and I love your family, and I love your noisy little nieces even when they shoot me with nerf guns in the middle of breakfast, and – ”

“Oi, oi, oi.” Without warning Isaac hooks both his arms around Colin and lifts him off his feet in a bear hug. “C’mere. I love you too, you know that? That’s not going away. That’s never going away.”

“I know…” But Colin still sounds quiet, inasmuch as it’s difficult to hear him through the velvet.

“I mean it, you pillock. You’re stuck with me. And all this, and all of them,” he jabs a thumb back towards the kitchen, where the sound of his sisters’ bickering and Ella’s kazoo are now reaching ear-splitting levels, “that’s not going away either. You’re stuck with them too. Sorry to say it.”

There’s a soft chuckle from within Isaac’s jumper.

“Think they love you as much as they love me. More, maybe. You’re pretty damn important to us. Alright?”

“Alright.” Colin’s head is still tucked into Isaac’s neck, but Isaac can feel him smiling against his skin.

“Right. C’mon, let’s get going.”

“Hmm.” Colin scrunches his nose up as he releases Isaac, tucking his hand into Isaac’s own. “You still have time to give me my present, you know.”

“Horny little shit,” Isaac says good-naturedly. He doesn’t give in though, no matter how much Colin widens his eyes and gives that lost-puppy look. It wouldn’t do for the captain of the team to be late for training.

Even if Colin makes it really tempting sometimes.

“Fine, fine. Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“You are gonna wear that Santa tracksuit again when we go home tonight though, yeah?”

Isaac pretends to think about this for roughly ten seconds. “Oh, absolutely.”

Grinning, Colin stands on his toes and claims a kiss. “My hero.”

#ted lasso #tedlassosecretsanta2021 #secretsanted2021 #isaac mcadoo #colin hughes #me at the start of this fic: ooh i don't usually write fluff i wonder if this will go well #me by the end: HAVE ALL THE DOMESTIC FLUFF I HAVE TO OFFER #my fanfiction

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