I'd almost forgotten about this, mainly because it feels a bit unfinished. But it's still hilarious.

Think of it as an early Christmas gift.

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Snow Prince Winter

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It was his bladder’s insisting that made Lleu get out of bed. And it was his tummy’s rumbling that made him go to the kitchen. But it was the baby’s crying that made him open the door that Christmas Eve.

The baby was in a festive golden Christmas basket that was covered in shiny red and green ribbons. It was wrapped in a red blanket with golden stitching, on top of which gently rested an envelope, as crisp and white as the freshly fallen snow.

“Please tell me this is a joke, or a mistake,” Lleu muttered to himself as he pulled the basket inside. But no, the envelope clearly had their names printed on it.

“Jack!” Lleu cried, moving to the bottom of the stairs so the sound would carry. If he had to be up dealing with babies left on the doorstep, then, dammit, so did his lover.

“Lleu?” Jack said sleepily from the stairs a few moments later. “Wazza matter?”

“The Christmas gift from your parents has arrived,” Lleu said, reading over the letter.

“Really?” Jack asked, suddenly a bit more awake. “What did they send this year?”

Lleu showed him the basket, and the baby inside it, who burbled a bit and reached for Jack’s hair.

“Did you ask for a baby?” Lleu asked.

Jack shook his head. “Not…really. I mean, we’d talked about it,” he glanced at Lleu to make sure he remembered the conversation they’d had. “And I’ve been thinking about it, but I never told my parents or Cindy or anyone. Did you ask for a baby?”

Lleu scratched his head. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t on my List, I know that, but I may have remarked to Cindy that we were thinking about adopting. I didn’t think she’d tell your parents, though.”

They both turned to look at the baby.

“Think they’ll take it back?” Lleu asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Is there a gift receipt?” He pulled the letter from Lleu’s hand to read it.

It was a formal letter of adoption, and included all the proper forms and papers for their adoption of ‘Nicholas Claus.’

“They named him after you,” Lleu pointed out.

Jack shrugged. “It’s not my name any more, he’s welcome to it. Besides, it’s set up as his first and middle name. We get to pick the last.”

They were silent for a moment. The baby made a funny face.

“You know,” Jack said slowly, “This might not be our Christmas gift at all. It’s entirely possible that my parents wanted a grandchild for Christmas.”

“I don’t think that’s really fair,” Lleu said. “Why should Mr. and Mrs. Claus get to give themselves a Christmas gift?”

“But they didn’t. They gave it to us.”

They both turned to look at the baby again.

“So they probably won’t take it back, then?” Lleu said.

“I don’t even know where he came from,” Jack said.

There was another long moment of silence.

“So…Welsh or Frost?” Lleu finally asked.

“Nicolas Welsh, Nicolas Frost,” Jack said, weighing both names. “Nicholas Welsh-Frost. Frost-Welsh.”

“Nicholas Claus Welsh,” Lleu said.

Jack shrugged. “Sure,” he said.

Nicholas Claus Welsh started crying; a high piercing sound that went straight to the brain.

“Lleu,” said Jack, “Your son is crying.”

“Don’t even start,” Lleu said, glaring at Jack. “The papers list us both as his parents.”

Jack shrugged. “Worth a shot,” he said, reaching out and picking Nicholas out of his basket, red blanket and all.

“He looks just like you,” Lleu said.

It was Jack’s turn to glare. “He’d better not.” He rocked the baby a bit, held it close and made shushing noises. It didn’t help.

Lleu took the baby and tried the same things, but that didn’t help either.

Jack and Lleu shared a very panicked look. They didn’t know anything at all about babies.

“The Internet,” Lleu said after a moment. Jack nodded. The oracle of all knowledge, both true and false, should tell them something they could do with a baby. Right? It might even be something helpful.

--

Things were somewhat better in the morning. Lleu had found a bottle of warm milk in the basket, which silenced Nicholas. And Jack had found a diaper that had fallen out onto the floor, which silenced Nicholas the next time he cried, and after that the three of them managed four hours’ sleep before it was time to get up and face the day.

Lleu made breakfast, while Jack put Nicholas in the middle of the living room floor and watched him like he was a bug that had crawled into the house. Which really wasn’t so bad, since Jack was still fascinated with bugs, and watched them with very intent curiosity whenever one ambled by.

“Jack,” said Lleu, “Shouldn’t you be interacting with him?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Should I be?”

“What wonderful parents we are,” Lleu remarked, setting their paces at the table. “Some of those packages had better be baby-things,” he added, nodding at the pile of boxes that nearly buried the Christmas tree.

Jack glanced at them as he picked up Nicholas and made his way to the table. “I don’t think I want to visit them this year,” he said.

Lleu raised an eyebrow.

“He-“ Jack nodded at Nick- “Won’t age while we’re there.”

Lleu’s face acquired a very worried look. “We should go for a week or so, though, and make your parents deal with him while we’re there. Teach them a lesson.”

Jack sighed, trying to figure out how to eat with a lapful of baby. “They’ll probably enjoy it. They raised me, after all.”

--

A/N: see? unfinished. But I think you can get a pretty good idea.