Y'all don't ask where this came from. It took me three weeks to finish because i lost motivation half way through. Idk if there'll actually be a second chapter. Depression and burn-out are really kicking my butt right now :'( prayers appreciated. Merry Christmas :) (And please, enjoy :))    

Smalls had kind of expected to get kicked out, frankly. The holidays are always crazily hectic at his house, and the unexpected announcement that the Joveson house was going to be used as a family reunion venue had had his poor mother running around town and scrubbing every surface imaginable. And all of her cleaning would probably be wasted anyways, because Kylen was sure to pull something big this year, and Smalls is fairly certain that it’ll cause a massive mess that will take months to actually clean up.

            Smalls kept out of the way as much as physically possible, spending most of his time hunkered down in his, Evan’s, Asher’s, and Matthew’s bedroom, studying for the rapidly approaching midterms. Evan had not.

            So when Evan slams the door open so aggressively that it rattles on its hinges, Smalls assumes that their father has finally caught on and Evan had been lectured and probably grounded over it. He ignores his brother, glaring and muttering to himself over his calculus book.

            “Go take a shower, Mom’s kicking us out.” Evan pronounces, snatching the textbook away from him.

            “Hey!”

            Evan grins. “Mom’s kicking us out. Well-she’s kicking me out. But she said to take you too because she’s a little worried you might’ve died up here because she hasn’t actually seen you for the last two days.”

            Smalls rolls his eyes, and seizes his book back. “Some of us want to get into a good university,” He retorts, frowning as he flips through the textbook to find his place.

            “Riiiiight, and some of us value our social lives.” Evan replies, waving his hand in front of Smalls’ face to get his attention. “If you don’t come, then I’ll tell Mom and you can deal with her.”

            Smalls scowls.

            Evan smirks. “Great! See you in….like an hour.” He makes a face, “You really need to shower.” He hurries towards the door before Smalls can stop him.

            Smalls drops his calculous book on his desk unceremonially. “Where is he dragging me this time?” He mutters.

            Turns out most of the house was vacated early that morning. Almost everyone had been sent out on errands, except, apparently, Smalls and Evan. Well, you can only dodge a bullet so long, Smalls thinks, dumping the rest of the coffeepot into a to-go cup and hurrying out of the kitchen before Evan stomps in, demanding what’s taking so long.

            He almost slips and cracks his skull open on the ice no one had bothered to salt the minute he steps outside. After righting himself and muttering a few words he’s not really supposed to say, he salts the ice, and, bad mood thoroughly established, walks over to Evan’s rusty, beat-up chevy truck and climbs in.

            “Geez, who put coal in your stocking?” Evan mutters, starting the car.

            “Where are we going?” Smalls asks as he pulls out.

            “We’re picking up the Longtreaders first. Picket called me a minute before you got in, practically begging for a rescue from his chores.”

            Smalls sighs. “And you told him yes?” this isn’t the first time Evan and Picket have pulled this stunt. Smalls is surprised that Sween hasn’t caught on yet.

            Evan snorts. “Not until he got Heather on the line confirming what he said.”

            “Traitor.” Smalls mutters, leaning his chin on his hand.

            “Hey, I don’t blame her. Sween scares me.” Evan nods sagely, barely avoiding hitting the curb. “Come to think of it, that’s probably why Heather scares me to.”

            “Fine. After we pick up the Longtreaders, where are we going?”

            “To get a Christmas tree and groceries for the Longtreaders because that was the excuse Heather made up to her mother. And I’ll probably come up with something else to keep us away from the house for a little while after.”

            Smalls doesn’t bother to protest. Besides, does he really want to pass up the opportunity to spend the day with Heather?

            “The roads are terrible.” Evan groans, looking dangerously close to flooring it and leading them all to an early death. Smalls glances up from his phone. They’ve been stuck in horrible traffic for the better part of an hour. Hazard of living near Nashville, he supposes. The amount of snow is uncharacteristic to the American south, though, so it’s taking the city a long time to clear it and salt the roads. Which means driving is…..not easy. Smalls already offered to drive. Evan turned him down.

            Smalls eyes his older brother. He definitely should have been more forceful. Evan’s a terrible winter driver, and just a plain bad driver in general. It’s a miracle he passed his test at the DMV the second time. Smalls had been smart and had gone through driver’s ed, as opposed to relying on his father’s questionably-safe driving lessons. Jupiter had many talents; driving, in any conditions, is not one of them.

            Picket is slumped over, asleep in the backseat, and Heather, in a stroke of genius Smalls wishes he had, had taken her typed-out study notes with her in the car. Smalls’ form of entertainment is resting on Ben Shapiro, and he’s running dangerously close to the end of the videos he hasn’t watched. And his phone battery.

            It turns out Smalls isn’t the only one struck by a bout of boredom, as Heather has somehow managed to unplug the AUX cord from Evan’s phone without Evan noticing. Actually, without Smalls noticing.

            Which is…..bad.

            Not that Smalls is going to say that. He’s half convinced that Heather does it just to annoy Evan, which…..Smalls understands. Only problem? It annoys Smalls too.

            Bad Blood immediately explodes out from the stereo, and Evan bangs his head against the wheel, groaning.

            “I am not listening to Taylor Swift in my own car!” He screeches above the blaring music.

            Heather laughs and sits back, setting aside her study notes and scrolling through her phone.

            Evan, muttering under his breath, yanks the AUX cord as hard as possible, and Heather yelps as her phone is ripped out of her hands, Evan, glaring at her, unplugs her phone, stopping the song somewhere mid-chorus.

            Heather glares at him. “Oh, you can’t handle a little Taylor Swift?” She asks.

            Picket, who’s apparently awake, mutters, “No.”

            Heather shoots a glare at him. Smalls just hopes she won’t bring him into this. Luckily for everyone, Evan spots the exit and pulls off so quickly that Smalls is thrown forward. He shoots Evan a dirty look. Evan grins, and takes the next turn even sharper.

            “Cut it out,” Picket huffs, now fully awake.

            “I’m driving back.” Smalls mutters.

            “That’s what you think.” Evan replies, pulling into the Tree farm and parking. It’s busy.

            Smalls sighs. “Let’s….try not to get banned this time?” He suggests, glancing at Evan.

            “You got banned?” Heather asks, disapproval in her voice.

            “Matthew thought it would be funny to steal Whit’s cigarette lighter.” Smalls replies, rubbing his forehead. “And….that went downhill.”

            “I can imagine.”

            “Technically, it’s only them banned, but I think it should be said anyways.”

            “I’m not going to do anything!” Evan says, throwing his hands up.

            “I’m just here for the ride.” Picket remarks.

            “Yes, I know why you’re here.” Smalls rolls his eyes.

            “Yeah?”

            “Shirking your responsibilities.”

            “Like you aren’t.”

            “I was kicked out of the house.”

            “For what, reading too much?”

            “Actually, yes.” Evan puts in.

            Smalls scowls, and thrusts open the truck door, and is promptly hit by a blast of absolutely freezing wind. That doesn’t improve his mood.

            While Evan and Picket begin to head towards the forest of Christmas trees, Heather hangs back.

            “Are you okay?” She asks. “You’ve been……quiet today.”

            “I’m alright.” Smalls assures her. He sighs. “Evan’s probably right. I’ve been studying for a little too long.”

            “Mm.” Heather studies him. “You know you’ll do fine.”

            Smalls shrugs, eyeing Evan and Picket. They’re not really doing anything particularly…..concerning, but it’s never off the table that Evan’ll try to pull something.

            Smalls is a little scared of what will happen when Evan and Kylen get together in the same room. Kylen is tame compared to what Evan can come up with when he’s trying.

            “Smalls,” Heather huffs.

            “I know, I know.” Smalls sighs, glancing at her. “Can we…..just focus on getting the tree?”

            Heather doesn’t look particularly happy about this, but she doesn’t say anymore, linking her arm with his. Smalls smiles and leans in to kiss her cheek.

            “C’mon love birds!” Evan shouts.

            Smalls grits his teeth, and Heather nudges him.

            “Ignore him.” She says. “He’ just trying to get on your nerves.”

            Smalls knows that. “And it’s working.” He mutters.

            Heather gives him a look, and Smalls doesn’t go on. He can gripe about Evan to Asher later; right now, he needs to make sure half the tree lot doesn’t go up in flames. Again.

            Tree acquired after some bickering (They had disagreed on how tall the ceilings at home actually are. This had of course spiraled into a nightmarish teasing session that had lasted until Heather had returned with hot chocolate to tell Picket and Evan to knock it off, like the human angel she is. Smalls scowls. It’s not fair. Picket’s not taller than Smalls, he just doesn’t have to deal with the misfortune of having a name that directly reflects his height. But Smalls digresses), they manage to tie it down in the bed of Evan’s truck without…...any major disasters.

            Smalls still tips the poor teenage employees, a couple of kids he’s pretty sure are vaguely related to the Fallons, an extra forty dollars because…….well, they put up with Jovesons, and that’s reason enough.

            “Alright, next stop!” Evan calls cheerfully from the passenger’s seat where he’s been banished-there’s no way Smalls is enduring his horrendous driving again-and begins to flip through radio stations, in a good mood.

            “Grocer,” Heather says, “We’re out of…..well, Mother says we’re out of pretty much everything.” She smiles weakly. “Hazard of the majority of your cousins being teenage boys.”

            Evan snorts. “Same problem. What did Mom want again?”

            Smalls glances at him, “You’re asking me?”

            “Great. I’ll call her.”

            Five minutes later, Evan looks like he’s regretting taking the hit, and Smalls is wincing at the tone his mother is using over the phone. Yeah…..he’s glad he didn’t have to make that call.

            “What? No, we haven’t been-Mom I’m not taking my seventeen-year-old brother into a liquor store!” Evan huffs.

            Smalls shoots him a dirty look.

            “besides-no, I know, I know, can’t Uncle just bring his own?-I can’t buy anything, Mom, I’m not twenty-one. Besides I think Whittle’d kill me if I even suggested buying Picket a beer-”

            Picket snorts.

            “MoOm, this isn’t England. I can’t buy anything.”

            Glen seems to have finally given in,

            “Just have Matthew or Whit pick it up-A joke! That was a joke!”

            Smalls rolls his eyes. The case of beer would be gone before it even made it to the house, and the last time Matthew was drunk had been…….interesting, to put it nicely.

            “Yeah, we’re already headed there. We’ll be home around dinner time, okay? We’re going to help out the Longtreaders-yes, I’m being nice, what would make you think I’m not?”

            Smalls wonders whether rear-ending the car in front of him would be worth the pay-back it would give Evan. Evan gets off the phone, and declares, cheerfully,

            “Looks like it’s going to be a fun Christmas.”

            They come up to a red light. “Don’t even think about it,” Smalls hisses.

            “Aw but that was really funny last year look I’ve still got the video-”

            Smalls successfully manages to snatch Evan’s phone away and delete the cursed video before Evan can hit play. Then he’s forced to play keep-away with the rest of the car because apparently, it’s just that funny to see him drunk. Not that it was on purpose-Evan had spiked his drink with way too much whiskey.

            Picket makes a lunge for the phone just as the light goes green, and Smalls shoves his face back, just barely managing to avoid hitting the curb as he (semi-accidentally) floors it. Everyone screams, phone forgotten, as Smalls barely makes their turn and goes careening into the Wal-Mart parking lot.

            They come to a sudden stop as a grandmother and several of her grandchildren cross the street, oblivious to the fact that Smalls almost ran them over.

            Smalls turns and glares at Evan. “I’m going to murder you.” He hisses.

            “Mom says no fratricide.” Evan informs him, grinning like an idiot.

            Smalls grits his teeth, and in revenge, stuffs Evan’s phone deep in the glove box when he’s not looking.

            He’s going to be searching for it for the next week, and Smalls isn’t going to help at all. They manage to get through the grocery store with little incident-other than Picket and Heather arguing over those little Christmas tree cakes that Smalls doesn’t think his mother would even let cross the driveway, but that gets resolved fairly quickly when Heather puts her foot down and makes Picket put them back.

            The argument that ensues is one of the famous Longtreader sibling blow-outs, the ones that Smalls does his absolute best not to get in the middle of but somehow always finds himself in the middle of.

            At least when it’s Heather’s father and uncles they have some, oh, situational awareness.

            Picket? Not a chance.

            “I’m going to plant cockroaches in your trashcan again,” Picket mutters.

            “You do that, and I’ll put hair dye in your shampoo.” Heather replies coolly.

            Evan doubles over in silent laughter, Smalls hopes the Walmart employee doesn’t notice them.

            “C’mon Heather, I just want the tree cakes. Why not?” Picket complains, tone edging on that whine that reminds Smalls just a little to much of the kid at thirteen-

            “Because they’re bad for you, and we don’t have enough money.” She shoots Smalls a look then, as if to say; Offer to pay and Kylen will be the least of your worries. Smalls, who had been considering it simply to shut Picket up, promptly tosses the idea out the window. Turns out he’s just going to have to sit through this one.

            Heather and Picket bicker to the register, Smalls pays, and everyone manages to get out with all limbs intact and-miraculously-no strangling. A Christmas miracle, Smalls thinks dryly, eyeing Evan and Picket as he drops some extra change in the Salvation-Army bucket outside the door, watching as Picket nearly gets run over as a car honks loudly at them.

            “Get out of the road!” Smalls shouts. His phone begins to buzz. Luckily, it’s just a text message from Matthew, telling him to come home but in terms he doubts their father would approve of. He taps out a message using similar terms-he’s had a long day, okay? Cut him some slack-conveying the vague information that they’ll be home soon.  

            Groceries secure and having safely made it across the street, Evan double-checks to make sure the tree is still secure. Then they drive to the Longtreaders, and Picket grabs the groceries to head in. He reaches the door first, bangs it open, and declares that his mother has made enough cookies to feed the entire state.

            Smalls, coming up behind with Heather, is immediately accosted with a plate of said cookies, presented by Jacks who won’t take ‘oh that’s fine we don’t really need them-’ for an answer. Smalls takes the plate just to quiet the seven-year-old. Then he kisses Heather goodbye and thanks her mother for the cookies, before finally escaping out to the truck.

            It’s dark now, and Evan looks to be in one of his meditative moods.

            “What’s wrong?” Smalls asks after a few minutes of driving.

            “How much money do you wanna bet that Uncle Bleston’s going to ruin Christmas again?” Evan asks bluntly.

            Smalls sighs. “I don’t want to bet anything, Evan. Maybe grandmother can keep him in line this year.”

            “I doubt it.” Evan sighs. “She couldn’t two years ago. You know it isn’t really Kylen’s fault.”

            “I know.” Smalls replies, shifting. But even though he knows that Kylen isn’t completely at fault, it’s still hard to get along with him after he nearly got Smalls killed two years before. He’d just meant it as a joke, but it had been cruel, and he’d known it. And Bleston had goaded him to it.  

            Evan’s quiet for a minute. “I just wish they could get along.” He finally says. “It’s-well, it isn’t fair to the rest of us.”

            Smalls shrugs. “There are worse families than ours, Evan.” He reminds him.

            “Still.” Evan replies. “You know, even Garten and Whittel Longtreader know how to avoid each other at social events. But Father and Uncle? They just can’t seem to pull it off.”

            “They both work in politics.”

            “That doesn’t mean they have to hate each other.”

            “You know it’s more than that.”

            “Why does it have to be?”

            “I don’t know. Ask father when he gets home.” Jupiter is on a business trip right now, and Smalls doesn’t know exactly when he’ll be back. Hopefully before Christmas. “It’ll be okay.” He adds.

            Evan grunts, clearly unconvinced.