Yeah. Here it is. Another one already. So, as you guys may have heard, there have been fires in Cali lately. One of them happened to be very close to me. School was dismissed early yesterday and everything from them till now had been cancelled, so I decided to sit down and write.

I had so much fun writing this. This fic was inspired by a song that I love and I'm in love with Working With What We Got so I had to write a Christmas fic about it. Christmas Dreams by Francesca Batistelli. She's amazing. I love this song so I figured, why not make it into a fic?

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Enjoy!

The small house was swallowed in peaceful silence. It was a silence only one of the four inside was used to. Only that one person stirred at midnight on Christmas Eve.

Medda blew out the candle that lightly lit up her room as she set down her book. She'd been waiting. They had to be asleep by now. So she snuck her way out into the living room, a bag slung over her shoulder with gifts filling it up. A smile crept onto her face. It was late. But that couldn't stop the joy from exploding within her.

Christmas Eve. It was always her favorite day of the year. But ever since three little boys had wandered into her life years and years ago, the excitement she felt had only expanded. It wasn't just about her anymore. It was about seeing her babies' faces light up in anticipation. It was about making it everything and more to three precious children who had nothing.

As Medda placed the neatly wrapped gifts underneath the beautiful tree, she smiled. The memories of her boys practically melting when they saw the perfectly decorated tree. It was like they'd never seen anything so beautiful and welcoming in their lives. And, as she unplugged the tree, she felt her heart grow even more in anticipation for the kids to turn it back on.

The woman slipped back down the hall, hearing blissful snores coming from the room where she knew her babies were sleeping. They were soft sounds. Light and peaceful. And Medda couldn't stop herself from pushing the door open, just slightly, to take a peak inside the room.

Her laugh was one of an angel. It was quiet and beautiful. She could've sworn when she left those boys, they'd been in three different beds. The woman should've known better than to think they'd stay that way.

The youngest was in the middle. A little eleven-year-old with the name of Christopher Morris. Crutchie, as he was affectionately called. The boy that only had the use of one leg. His blond hair was a mess, like someone had been playing with it, or had been running a hand through it. He was turned onto his left side, and his knees were loosely pulled to his chest as it rose and fell, a young, innocence about him as he rested, blissfully.

The next oldest was beside Crutchie. He was only a year older than the first, yet Medda knew the fierceness in which he would protect his baby brother. He had blond hair, just like the first, but his rested in loose curls on his head. He rest on his back, his body pressed against Crutchie's as the younger boy's head rest on the older's shoulder. Anthony Higgins was his name. Or Racetrack. Race for short. He'd been through a lot, that much Medda knew. But what exactly, not even his brothers knew the answer to that. But for now, he was sleeping peacefully with arms surrounding him to keep him safe from the dangers of the world.

The last boy was the oldest. The protector. Jack Kelly. He was the oldest. Fourteen at the time. The brunette was bigger and stronger than the two boys he carefully had placed in his arms. His chest was pressed up to his youngest brother's back and his other brother's head rest on his forearm. The way he slept showed just how much he protected the two kids next to him. He shielded them from the door. He made sure he could touch both of them, ready to pull them out of danger at any moment. It must've been a way he slept in that God awful home those precious children had been in for almost two years now.

Medda wished beyond everything that she could've taken them in. Their mother and her grew up together. Both had been wild and free. Medda didn't know that her friend would ever take it so far. It was their final year of high school that the girl had run up to her in tears. She was pregnant and she was terrified. Kelly was his name. He was a charming young thing who never had made a commitment in his life. He ran at the first word of a child. But, nine months later, a beautiful baby boy with a dreamer's green eyes was born into the world. Why that new mother gave her son a quitter's last name would always be a mystery to Medda, but she couldn't change her mind.

That boy was a charmer from the start. He stole every heart he could. Medda's was first. Even before his mother's. That woman was spiraling. She was a party girl with no sense of the word stop. Before Medda knew it, her friend was handing over her child to her on Christmas Eve while she was going out and feeding meaningless addictions with strangers. One of which she thought was a keeper. Medda had never met him. All she knew was he was Italian and he was a danger to the girl she loved like a sister.

The baby's first Christmas was spent in a house that wasn't his with a woman who loved him dearly. She spoiled him rotten. She held him the whole time and she gave him wonderful presents. When his mamma showed up, Medda had a hard time letting go, even though the babe was ecstatic to see the person who abandoned him on the most wonderful day of the year.

That was when Medda met him. Higgins. They were a long time fling who had only recently begun to call themselves an item. But Medda could see it all in his eyes. He was abusive. Manipulative. And only a few weeks later, Medda's sister had the same frightened look her eyes as the day she found out she had a young boy growing inside her.

Higgins was angry. Medda would catch the bruises on her friend but the other woman refused to tell her anything. It wasn't until six months into the pregnancy that Medda got the phone call. She rushed the other woman to the hospital along with her son who was barely two years old. Jack kept crying after his mother was rushed into the room. He could barely speak but Medda understood that he was asking if his mamma and baby brother were alright. All Medda could do was hold him as he wiggled around on her lap, trying to get back to them.

Medda called the cops. Higgins ran. They haven't seen him since. And two months later another baby boy was born. He was small, premature and unhealthy. But once that child opened his eyes, he had Medda wrapped around his little finger. Those blue eyes matched his mamma's so perfectly.

It was a miracle that he made it out of the hospital. But Jack was so happy. He could wobble around and he could barely speak but he always wanted to be around his baby brother. Anthony. Named right after the man that abandoned him. Medda was sure this pregnancy wasn't even the mother's fault. She suspected a forced night from the daddy who never expected things to go so far. But she never found out for sure. And she never would know why her friend let the poor child grow up with a name that struck a nerve, bringing back such memories.

Jack and his baby brother were closer than any two boys Medda had ever seen. Jack loved to hold the boy with tiny blond curls on his head. He loved to make the kid smile and they loved being near each other. And the next Christmas that came was the one that their mother stayed for. She smiled and held them close, even if she let Medda take the lead. Those boys clung to their mamma. It melted the theatre girl's heart.

Only a few months later was when Medda's best friend came to her, sobbing this time. She said this time he was respectable. This time he surely had to stay. She said she loved him. Medda believed her. And when Anthony was only a year old, his older brother being three, another child was born into the world with his mamma's smile. As the mother had said, the father stayed. That is, up until the boy was found to be disabled. His leg. His leg was deformed and would never be able to work. And Morris left without saying goodbye.

After that, the woman had tried to forget about how much she liked to party. Medda had told her how she was a mother and how she needed to be there for her kids. And she was. She did the best she could after that man walked out on her. She moved in with Medda for a while, but she would insist on getting the kids when they cried and feeding them and making sure they had a smile on their faces any time they could.

Eventually, they had a small apartment near Medda. Their mother insisted they needed to start up on their own, though she knew she wouldn't survive away from her friend. They spent Christmas together every year. The boys had become accustomed to having Medda around, but they were also very close with their mother. It warmed Medda's heart. And eventually, they started coming over and Anthony would respond to nothing but Race or Racetrack. Chris wouldn't want to hear anything but Crutchie. It made Medda laugh.

Though her boys became her world, there were still the men that would walk through that mother's door. Medda suspected her friend was too embarrassed to ask for any more help with money. The woman tried to confront her about it, but her friend refused to admit it. The men were mostly nice to the boys but it all made Medda uncomfortable. What made her even more so were the pills and drugs she found in her friends bathroom one day. They argued but the mamma would refuse to listen.

When Jack was about eight years old, the mamma was gone. Medda cried, though she knew it had only been a matter of time. Her boys were pulled apart, quite literally in fact. They were closer than any one Medda had ever known and they were torn apart and taken from her like nothing. It killed Medda. She tried to fight for them. But with the record she had on her from her troubled youth, she didn't stand much of a chance.

Somehow, Jack managed to sneak back to her on Christmas. He cried in her arms. He missed his brothers. She did too. It was two Christmases before the boys were together again. Jack had convinced the system that they needed each other. But it was made clear to them that staying together would be no easy task.

They spent every Christmas with her. She made sure of that. She always made sure to spoil them rotten. And they always had such big smiles on their faces when they were together in a quiet place filled with holiday cheers.

Tonight she was happy to be standing in the moonlight, watching her babies sleep blissfully, tucked into one bed, so close to each other even in their resting states. She could only imagine what wonderful dreams of that holiday season were floating around in their heads.

She recalled the past few days. They'd run away early this year. No one was looking for them. She was glad. No one would be looking for them except for her. She'd taken them out. If she knew anything about her boys, it's that Christmas was their favorite time of the year. After all, Christmas had always been the time of year when everything was okay. Christmas had always been the time when smiles were all that could be seen for miles.

This year, Medda had made sure their days of shopping and baking treats had been full of wonder and their nights of walking the Manhattan streets in all of the sparkling lights of the city had been filled with Christmas magic. She never missed the way Jack's eyes sparkled whenever he saw Race and Crutchie in awe of the lit up city.

This past week had been filled with moments they'd look back on all of their lives. One that she would remember forever was the one when Crutchie had been up on Jack's back. Race held onto his crutch for him. They had been walking when they passed by a group of carolers singing in perfect harmony. The boys weren't shy, well save for Crutchie who always got an adorable type of nervous around strangers, but they never did much to draw attention to themselves. They knew better than that. But the carolers caught sight of them.

They had to have been high schoolers. They were young and cheesy as they sang simple carols with beautiful chords that could make anyone get into good spirits. The boys were taken by their smiles and their sound and stopped for only a moment when the group began to sing an a cappella version of "Winter Wonderland." And as a verse started, a young girl stepped forward, a scarf in her hand.

"In the meadow we can build a snowman..." she sang, beautifully. She skipped around to the crowd that watched them, hoping to earn a little extra money for their music. Her eyes landed on the twelve-year-old boy holding a crutch for his crippled baby brother. She comically ran up to him and wrapped the scarf around his neck.

When Jack laughed and took the crutch from him, Medda smiled and Crutchie teased. Race was frozen, not exactly liking it when the girl linked arms with him, trying to guide him up to the front of the crowd.

"It's okay, baby... we ain't goin' no where..." Reluctantly, Race allowed the girl to pull him up to the front of the crowd to the high schoolers that towered over him. He tried to keep the look of terror off of his face as the girl started to dance with him. They started to dress him up like he was a snowman. And they swayed with him, giggling as he awkwardly tried to do as they were prompting him to.

Then the next verse. "In the meadow we can build a snowman... and pretend that he's a circus clown..." A young boy scouted the crowd too, his eyes landing on Jack and Crutchie who had walked closer to keep a steady eye on their brother. And the boy, maybe sixteen, lightly pulled a hat onto the eleven-year-old's head.

Medda laughed as Jack carefully set the boy down on the ground, handing him his crutch. They both watched the boy limp up to the front of the crowd, much to Race's relief. And they lead Crutchie into the sway too, dancing with the two young boys as they finished their song. By the end of it, Crutchie had wrapped an arm around Race, letting him relax into a familiar embrace. And the two boys ended up singing along. Jack too. And when they were done, Medda watched her babies laugh together as they handed the warm items back to the carolers and walked away. It started snowing that night. A beautiful, beautiful night.

The days she had with her boys were always fun ones. And she never would forget how their mouths would drop open when they first arrived at her house. It happened every year. Their eyes were always wide at her traditional holiday scene. The tree by the fireplace and the garland on the mantle. The white lights all over the place and the sweet smell of cookies coming from the kitchen. It was her favorite thing to give them. A traditional Christmas. A time to be together without being completely terrified of doing something wrong.

Now they were worn out. And Medda smiled down at them. All she could do was wonder what they were dreaming about. Maybe it was when Crutchie had thrown a handful of flour at Jack while they were making cookies, starting a playful war in the kitchen. Or maybe it was when Jack was eagerly writing a card for Racetrack, trying his best to say something special to his baby brother. Or it could've possibly been of things yet to come. Boxes and bows and all. She knew they were hoping for gifts to tear open. They were dreaming of toys and things they'd seen in storefronts of malls and places that Medda had gladly taken them to.

Her babies weren't spoiled. But they were still kids. They had to be eagerly waiting to see their stockings filled to the brim with candy and small pocket items. And they were always excited to go out into the snow on Christmas Day without an old man yelling at them to clean the house or to grow up. They were children. They shouldn't have to grow up so quickly.

It was a miracle they were even asleep, Medda thought. This season carried with it so many secrets. So many magical things that the boys needed in their lives. She wasn't sure she would be able to sleep. Christmas was truly the most magical time of the year.

Medda moved into the room. She smiled as she kissed them. But even his sleep, Jack had tensed when a presence had entered the room. A grip had formed on Race's thin shirt and he had turned even more, shielding the youngest of them with his body. But once her lips had touched his forehead, he seemed to relax once more. "It's okay, Jack..." She could hardly contain her excitement.

Under the tree for them were things that Medda was sure would make their mouths fall open in shock. Only a few more hours and the boy with the crutch who loved to read would have a new book he'd been eying for months. Then the blue eyed boy who loved cards would have a new deck. And the oldest. The oldest boy would have a new paint set. He'd been pretending to be okay with his old one. The one he'd gotten from whatever had been left of his mother's things. She knew him too well to know that he wanted a new set. And her little artist would be so happy to find it sitting under the tree. That, and so much more. After all, her boys deserved the world. And only a few more hours stood between them and their giggles and screams. The answers to every Christmas-y dream lingering in their little heads tonight.

The woman let herself sigh as she thought about the question Crutchie had asked her as she was tucking him into bed.

"Is Santa Claus real?" The boy broke her heart. His mamma hadn't told the boys about the man in the red suit with a pearly white beard. They'd only picked up on the mythical being by going out with Medda on Christmas. Boys talked about it and malls were full of men in costumes. And Medda didn't know what to say when her baby asked that question.

Eventually she was able to sit down on the boy's bed and take him in her arms. She told him about magic. She told him about the workshop up in the north pole and how, on Christmas Eve night, noises might be heard on the rooftop. She looked over and could see Racetrack, sitting up in his bed, listening intently to the tales of a man that could do anything. A man that visited every child within one night. And Jack was smiling from the other side of the room.

The secrets were the season. But still, Medda wondered how the boys could be asleep after she could see the excitement flowing out of them before she'd left them to themselves.

As she silently shut the door to the room that held her babies, the thought came to mind. Maybe she was the most excited to see what the next morning brought. She was excited to see those kids with genuine looks of excitement on their faces. She'd seen the bruises and cuts. But the boys were too scared to mention them. Too scared to be torn away from each other all over again. And she was so excited to see them have one day to be brothers who didn't have to worry about that. She was so excited to have her kids with her and to have them be the children that they were.

Medda let out a light laugh as she crawled into her bed that night. That morning. All that wondering about those boys Christmas dreams completely distracted her from the facts. She had Christmas dreams too. And they were all for her kids to have a happy Christmas Day.

Never too old for Christmas dreams, she thought. And as she drifted off, she swore she could hear jingle bells in the distance. And then she was safe in a blissful sleep until she heard those giggles and shouts waking her in the morning.

As she walked out to the living room that morning and saw those smiling faces, laughing with each other as they carefully dug through the endless gifts, shocked at how many there were for each of them, Medda couldn't help but blink back the joyous tears in her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, babies..."

I love this AU.

If you guys have any more Christmas ideas, I would love to hear them. I might actually have some time to write them. Or even if they're not Christmas, I'd love to hear them. Thank you!

As always, make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Merry Christmas, fansies!