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Holiday Outtake: Patience

Timeline: Post-epilogue

A/N: Hello, all! In celebration of the upcoming holiday, I wanted to write you all something fun and special. I've been missing this story lately (I wrapped it up right around this time last year), so naturally, my mind wandered to Quil and quilly things and all the warm and fuzzies that comes with those.

This idea came from my BFF and writing partner, ChrissiHR. We both squeed and squealed over it and I told her I would write it for her, so if you thank anyone for this idea, thank her (or blame her for any potential tears or feelings overload)!

On that note, I hope you all enjoy!

✫.¸¸ . ✶*¨*. ¸ .✫

Three days before Christmas, chaos descended on the Uley household.

And by chaos, Quil wasn't talking about murderous vampires. He didn't mean a leaking roof or a botched batch of Emily's double chocolate chip banana muffins because oh, the horror.

No—it was worse than that.

The particular brand of chaos he spoke of included markers and paint and construction paper and six children under the age of ten, not to mention two pre-teens who thankfully had yet to decide they were too cool to hang out with some of the pack's youngest members.

It also included five of the pack's most senior members.

They were there with nothing less than bells on, participating in the second annual Make Gifts for Mommy with Daddy Day, a not-so-originally-named idea Emily had the year prior. After she thoroughly and stealthily garnered feedback from Bella, Kim, Anna, and Rachel, she decided it must be held for the second year.

As a result, both dads and kids were crowded around an extra-long but too-small card table Sam set up in the dining room in lieu of Emily's priceless mahogany table she inherited from her grandmother. Jacob was at the head, flanked by his boys, six-year-old Will and three-year-old Adam. Jared was on Adam's left, accompanied his five-year-old daughter Lila, sandwiched in between the two. Across the table sat Sam and his two youngest, eight-year-old Josh and five-year-old Emma.

Paul was tucked in between Sam and Will, minus a miniature helper. Quil figured it was good practice. Rachel finally wore him down on the subject of having kids, and now that she was eight months pregnant and ready to pop, Emily thought it would be right for him to get a little taste of the "joys of fatherhood."

Emily's bribe of secretly spiked eggnog only sweetened the pot.

Only a few pack members were missing. Collin and Brady, single and still enjoying the bachelor life, retreated to the mountains for a Christmas camping and ice fishing trip. Seth and his new wife of five months planned to stop by later that afternoon—just for fun, they said.

As for Leah, everyone expected her next year because at six months old, her twin daughters, Charlotte and Mirabelle—family names from her mother's side—were still too young for markers and glitter.

No one was more surprised than Leah when she discovered she was pregnant a little more than a year earlier. The elders were stumped—she wasn't supposed to have children, but in the end, they reasoned it down to the fact that when Leah's age in years finally caught up with her physically, her body came out of whatever frozen state it was in, allowing pregnancy to happen.

Leah never imprinted—she wasn't married either. The girls' father was hardly considered a serious boyfriend, but Leah let the pack wonder what she planned to do for about a minute before declaring it would be easier to "raise a kid without a man around to screw him up."

It was typical Leah, and after Charli and Mira were born, most of the pack pretended they never heard her say it.

While their dad took the girls every other weekend and some sporadic days in between, the pack and their families all took turns stopping by the house with dinner or an hour of spare time so Leah could sneak away for a nap or an extra-long shower.

Quil smiled, remembering that's where Bella was headed as he tried to wrangle a babbling five-year-old in an excruciatingly long attempt to get him out of his cowboy hat in exchange for a scarf around his neck. Bella had a doctor's appointment that morning, but by that point, she was likely knee-deep in slobbery smiles and baby bottles—something Quil guessed was a heck of a lot more peaceful than where he currently was with their kids.

Bottom line? To say their pack expanded in nine years was an understatement.

A few of the others mumbled and grumbled about Make Presents for Mommy with Daddy Day—none were opposed to toting the kids to the store in Forks to buy a nice necklace or a bottle of flowery-smelling lotion—but most of them humored Emily.

Which is why they were there, all crowded around the table.

Quil did his best to ignore how he couldn't move his elbows without knocking little Emma in her head or how his knees were wedged into his ribcage, a result of the ridiculous chair he sat in that clearly was built for a second-grader.

But they didn't complain—not out loud, at least, because they all knew it would be worth it in the end.

Truth be told, Quil was looking forward to it more than he'd let on. Any excuse to get his grown-man hands on a set of crayons without judgment seemed like a great idea to him.

He showed up for other reasons, too.

One of the reasons was his 13-year-old stepdaughter, Maddie, who sat cozied up to the kitchen island a few feet away, situated next to Sam and Emily's oldest, Levi. Emily didn't give them the go-ahead to start, but Maddie was working away, her fingers flying and a look of the careful, intense concentration written across her face. She brought a few of her things from home, an idea in her head for what she planned to make Bella that year.

She had a creative mind that blew Quil away on a daily basis. When her nose wasn't buried in a book, he could usually find her at their kitchen table at home, elbows-deep in her latest art project.

He sometimes caught Bella watching Maddie as she worked. He knew why, but more often than not, he watched her, too. As a result, he always joked it wouldn't be long before she grew up, moved out, and ran away to New York City to live in a closet and be a starving artist.

Maddie growing up was something he tried his fucking hardest not to think about.

However, Quil's other reason gave him less cause to fret about something like growing old and moving away.

That same babbling five-year-old boy from earlier, pushed up to the table next to him, was still wearing the scarf it took Quil the better part of twenty minutes to get around his neck. He was ready for their day, a red colored pencil already in one hand, a bottle of glitter in the other, and his tongue tucked firmly between his teeth, busy eyes bouncing from person to person at the table.

"Okay," Emily announced, stepping toward the table, coming to a halt behind Jacob. Holiday music filtered into the dining room from the living room television speakers, and the Christmas lights Emily strung carefully atop her kitchen cupboards twinkled behind her, making her glow. "Now, kids, there are all kinds of fun things here for you to use to make your gifts. What do you think your moms would like for Christmas?"

"A picture!" Will spoke up first.

"A cookbook!" Josh piped in, clearly knowing his mother's culinary tendencies.

"A BIG SLIMY LIZAWD!"

Biting down on the inside of his lip, Quil gave his head a subtle shake, the lighthearted snickers of the others blending with his as he peered down at the little man next to him. Tipping his head all the way back, Junior offered him a toothy, innocent grin.

Paul guffawed, pointing at Junior and Quil in turn. "This is because of all the things you did when you were his age. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, shut up," Quil muttered, still laughing as he chucked a crayon at Paul's face. "This one's just trying to expand his mother's horizons. He gets all the credit for Bella's newfound affinity for environmental science and amphibians."

"That sounds like a great idea, Junior," Jake agreed, leaning forward and not paying attention to where his wide-ranging elbows swung. "You can leave it on your Mommy's pillow or, even better, her—"

Jacob didn't finish his sentence, the rest of his words swallowed by an uproar of hysterical laughter when his elbow knocked over a cup of glitter, sending it flying across the table and his jeans.

"Way to go, graceful," Quil congratulated Jacob with a hearty chuckle. "You're gonna be picking that out of every crack for at least the next month."

Jacob shot him a withering look, but it dissolved into a smile when he realized how ridiculous he looked, the kids laughing harder in reply. Standing with her hands on her hips, Emily glanced to Sam for help, realizing she wouldn't find any as he stifled his own reaction with the back of his hand, snorting behind his fingers each time he glanced at a thoroughly amused Emma next to him.

"Children?" Emily warned, her voice just below a yell but reeking with maternal authority. "Both big and small?"

All the actual kids in the room recognized that tone. They immediately quieted down, though the adults had a harder time, unable to take the den mother's threats seriously as they choked back chortles and clapped tight hands over their mouths.

"There are snacks in the fridge," Emily instructed, shrugging into her winter coat and making her way toward the door. "I've set out everything you could possibly want to have a fun day with your daddies. There are no rules except that one—have fun."

"You're not staying, Emily?" Jared asked, moving nothing but his eyes to not disrupt Lila, who was giving him a sloppy, runny tattoo on his cheek with black watercolor paint.

"Nope," Emily grinned, zipping up her coat. "Since I have three making gifts for me as well. I want to be surprised."

"AUNTIE EMIWY, GO AWAY!"

Everyone at the table jumped. His cheeks on fire, Quil casually leaned to his right. He snaked his arm around his son's shoulders, loosely covering the little boy's mouth with his fingers. Junior wailed behind his father's hand, the sound muffled, excited, and an invitation for Quil to move his fingers up and down to create the obnoxious war cry-like noise that would have the kid rolling on the floor with laughter in no time.

"Don't be rude," Quil warned in his son's ear before instinctively obliging, his hand rewarding the little boy with what he wanted.

Quil winked at Emily, Junior's screeching laughter nearly drowning out his words.

"We'll make sure the house is in one piece before you get back," he assured loudly.

Emily looked both miffed and relieved to leave. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Quil Ateara." Giving the table one last survey, she nodded to no one in particular.

They all watched her go, eyes cautious and waiting until they were positive the front door clicked shut behind her.

It was then real chaos ensued.

Several mismatched hands, arms, and bodies dove for the best craft supplies, a raucous uproar of voices and laughter not quite drowning out the angry cries of Paul as Jacob snatched the modeling clay from beneath his pack mate's outstretched fingers—or Quil's mortified cry as he did, in fact, knock little Emma in the head as he reached for a pair of scissors.

After apologizing profusely to Emma and sealing it with a kiss to her head for good measure, Quil glanced up in time to see Jacob knock over another cup of glitter with his worthless elbows, this cup closer to Paul's spot at the table.

Paul angrily brushed off his shirt. "Seriously with the glitter, Black," he scolded his alpha. "It looks like a goddamn unicorn shit all over—"

Paul's voice was silenced by Sam's stern, hushed reprimand, followed up by a handful of wide eyes, chastising Paul long after he shut his mouth.

Quil was among them, cocking his head to the side, raising a tense, admonishing brow and mouthing little ears to his pack brother. He knew much too well from more than nine years of being scolded by Bella's admonishing eyes and pursed lips each time he let a profanity-laced sentence leave his mouth in front of the kids.

"You are all a bunch of pansies," Paul muttered, reaching for a package of fuzzy pipe cleaners in the middle of the table. "The kids don't know any better..."

"You say that now," Jacob warned, flicking a piece of glitter off his forearm before pointing at Paul with a purple marker, "but wait until you get a note from your kid's preschool teacher asking why F-U-C-K—" he spelled it out just to be safe, "—is his answer to every single question."

Maddie and Levi snickered from their place at the island.

Several minutes passed while everyone worked, not so quietly and not without a few more mishaps including a spilled jar of rubber cement and one occassion where Adam decided to test Lila's vision by attempting to stick a marker in her eye. Luckily, Jacob caught it just in time, snatching the marker away from his mischievous son.

No problem, Quil thought to himself, going back to cutting out construction paper shapes he wasn't sure Junior would even use on his card. This is nothing compared to what it could be. We got this.

"Daddy! Lookit what I make!"

The scissors stilling in his hand, Quil glanced down to see Junior proudly displaying the start of what Quil guessed was supposed to be a Christmas card.

Quil sighed, following it with a supportive smile. He understood—he knew five-year-olds weren't supposed to be perfect when it came to art or coloring inside the lines, but Junior's project reflected what he'd come to learn about his son and what everyone else already knew.

The kid was definitely his son, and patience was not one of his virtues.

Nearly every square inch of the cardstock was colored in a mess of different colored pencils and splotches of glue that served no purpose except to muck up Junior's hands. There were indentations from where he pressed the pencil too hard to the paper, the point threatening to puncture the material in more than one place.

Patience was something they were still working on, slowly, and one step at a time.

"I make fer Mama and I wanna make all da the things fer her!" Junior placed the card back in front of him, attacking it with the colored pencil, pressing down on the card with every ounce of strength in his little body. "I wannit to be just wike Maddie makes."

Quil chewed on his lip, meeting Maddie's ebony eyes, already watching him from several feet away. She smiled knowingly as she put down the narrow, red leather tie she held in her hand, sliding off her chair and starting toward them.

Quil knew there were worse problems to have than a severe case of sibling awe. But in the handful of months leading up to Christmas, Junior became enamored with his big sister, more so than normal. He followed her around the house, said the things she said, wanted to do the things she did, and it sometimes left him going one hundred miles per hour trying to keep up.

But he couldn't keep up because the kids were good at entirely different things. They approached things in an entirely different way. Maddie was careful and thoughtful—like her father—and Junior was too much like Quil at his age, a hurricane roaring at full power right from the start.

Maddie was infinitely patient with her baby brother, though, and for that, Quil was eternally thankful.

But it wasn't helping their quest to teach him patience, and Quil wasn't entirely sure what else they should do.

"Alright, buddy, I know. Slow down though, okay?" Quil assured. "We have all afternoon to make Mama something pretty. I know you want it to be like your sister's, but Mama wants something special and different from both of you." He ran a calming hand through Junior's unruly curls.

"You don't wanna make what I'm making."

Quil glanced up, noticing Maddie behind them both when she spoke up slyly, leaning down and wrapping her arms around Junior from behind, her long, dark brown hair spilling over his shoulders. "What I'm making is boring. What you're making already looks so good, and Mama will think it's so much more fun than mine." She sealed her reassurances with a kiss of his chubby cheek.

Junior's face screwed up, not convinced as he pressed his colored pencil harder down on the piece of paper. Quil winced when it finally punctured the page.

"I wannit wike yours, Maddie. Show me," he demanded.

Maddie's lips parted as she straightened slightly, glancing at Quil over Junior's head. "Show you what I'm making Mama?"

"Show me," Junior urged again.

It took Quil a moment but eventually he nodded, earning a reserved, cautious smile from Maddie as she stood to her full height and walked back toward the kitchen island to retrieve her handmade gift. She returned a moment later, her small present mostly obscured by her long fingers.

She still looked hesitant, and that fact wasn't lost on Quil.

But Junior didn't forget his request. Dropping his colored pencil like it was poisonous, he looked up at his sister. "Lemme see, pwease."

Quil watched with bated breath. Maddie's response wasn't much different than his as she turned the gift between her fingers, revealing it as it dangled from one finger.

It was a Christmas colored dreamcatcher.

The hoop was wrapped carefully in red leather, and Maddie had started the webbing—green threads pulled tight between the hoop, interlaced with one another, each end tied securely to the hoop as a base—though it wasn't finished. The dreamcatcher itself hung from another piece of red leather. As Quil studied it, the feathers Maddie tucked inside her bag when they left the house suddenly made sense.

As Maddie let her little brother take the dreamcatcher between stubby fingers, the gift itself wasn't surprising to Quil. His mother—their Grandma Joy—made dreamcatchers. She had as long as he could remember, and it was something she spent multiple rainy Saturdays trying to teach the kids when they were cooped up inside without the outdoors to entertain them, especially Junior.

Maddie took to the craft quickly, just like she did so many other things of that nature.

Junior was still learning. At his age, Quil expected nothing less.

But it didn't keep him from trying. It didn't keep him from wanting to make one just like his sister.

And as the realization dawned on Quil, he saw something else pass across his five-year-old's face—wide, chocolate brown eyes studying the gift for Bella with a little too much intensity, a little too much concentration.

It took the little boy several moments but when he finally looked away, still clutching the dreamcatcher in his hands, both Quil and Maddie froze when huge, watery eyes flitted back and forth between them.

Shit…

They both waited. They braced, Quil ready to spring at less than a moment's notice because they knew what was coming.

Junior's lower lip trembled faster with each passing moment.

They waited…

And when it came, it came.

The cry started off low, the sound of it growing in both volume and pitch until everyone took notice, fingers freezing in the their own tasks and their gazes snapping to attention the second the cry turned to a straight from the gut, I'm-not-fucking-with-you-right-n0w-Dad kind of cry.

Pushing his chair back, Quil exchanged a glance with Maddie, whose hands hovered nervously above her wailing brother. She chewed on her lower lip, unsure of what to do, her eyes heartbroken.

I'm sorry, she mouthed the words.

Quil shook his head, reassuring her it wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault, but Junior knew better than to throw that kind of tantrum and Quil knew it likely was time for a real father-son talk.

Huffing a huge sigh, Quil stood, another part of him hoping the action would ease the automatic parental concern and tension caused by the sobbing little boy.

"All the things you did," Jacob murmured under his breath, mimicking Paul's earlier words. Still, he winked at Quil, an understanding only another father could offer flickering through his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," Quil agreed, bending long enough to swiftly haul Junior into his arms, tucking him against his broad chest as he hurriedly walked the now-hiccuping and gasping boy into the living room.

The silence and peace away from the bustle of the dining room was a welcome refuge for the conversation he was about to have with his five-year-old. Sitting brusquely on the couch, Quil deposited Junior in front of him, making sure his legs were steady before moving his hands to small shoulders.

It wasn't until then he had his first good look at his son. The poor little guy's nose was already leaking and huge crocodile tears stained his red cheeks as he struggled to catch his breath between sobs.

Quil automatically felt horrible.

One direct look at Junior let Quil know his kid's cries were more than a tantrum for attention.

"Hey, buddy," he whispered, imploring Junior with wide eyes. "Stop crying. Calm down, and tell me what's wrong, okay?"

Hiccuping again, Junior brought one hand to his mouth, chewing on the tip of one finger and trying to stutter out a response. "M—my pwesent fo' Mama is bad. I—I—It's not wike Maddie's." A fresh batch of tears collected in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I—I wannit to be wike Maddie's. Her's is pwettier than mine."

Quil sighed. "Kiddo, it's okay if your's isn't just like Maddie's. Mama wants them to be different…"

"But I wanna be wike Maddie, Daddy!" Junior exclaimed, stomping his foot for emphasis and sniffling loudly. "She a big kid and I wanna be big wike that and good at makin' pwesents for Mama and good a' all da things, but it's hawd, Daddy."

"What's hard, buddy?"

"Bein' good at all da' things."

Quil rocked back slightly, recognition sparking somewhere inside him.

All the things you did…

Jacob and Paul's words resonated, more in that moment than before. Junior's behavior made an ounce more sense because it was something Quil did as a child, more often than not. It was a desire—a desperation to be good at everything and the need to be good at it right that second—that made him challenging on good days and impossible at his worst.

And it was something Quil's mom never let him live down—especially now that he had a son of his own. But he grew out of it—at least to a point, and there was a reason why.

For a second, Quil wondered if maybe he could turn it into some kind of lesson for his son.

It took him less time than that to figure he had nothing to lose by giving it a shot.

"Alright, kiddo, listen," Quil insisted quietly, leaning forward, elbows pressing into his thighs as he attempted to get eye-level with Junior. "Can I tell you a story?"

Responding with a watery sniffle, Junior rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and nodded.

"When I was your age, I used to be just like you," Quil admitted with a comforting smile.

"Weally?" Junior asked in a raspy whisper.

"Really," Quil repeated. Dropping his hands to his lap, he knit his fingers together. "I always wanted to be the biggest and the bestest at everything, too. I wanted anything and everything and I wanted it right now." Quil emphasized the words so Junior would understand. "And I had people I looked up to just like you. Older people I wanted to be like, except it wasn't a big sister—they were my best friends."

Junior blinked rapidly, a look of question replacing the immediate tears in his eyes. "Who is the best fwiends?"

Smiling, Quil felt something inside him flare, a distant ache that only surfaced during those types of moments. Still, he knew why that ache was there—exactly why it existed.

It existed to remind him that even lessons learned as a child—brought on by someone who left them all long ago—still deserved to be taught.

Even if Quil never realized it was something he'd need—at least not until that moment.

"It was your Uncle Jake and your Uncle Embry," Quil replied, the corner of his mouth twitching against a smile. "They were better than me at a lot of things. When Uncle Jake broke something, he could put it back together when I couldn't. Your Uncle Embry learned how to swim before me, and he was better at math and he colored better than me, too."

"He was a good drawer wike Maddie?"

Quil's stomach fluttered. He nodded, unable to suppress his smile. "Yup, and I always thought the reason they were good at those things was because they were older than me… kind of how Maddie is older than you." His eyebrows lifted. "I thought being older or bigger made you good at everything, and it made me sad and mad because I thought I would never be as good as your Uncle Jake and Uncle Embry at doing things like math or fixing a broken toy or making Grandma Joy Christmas cards."

Quil paused, watching Junior tuck stubby hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

"Do you understand?" he asked carefully.

Junior stared at his toes for a long moment before peeking up, contemplative eyes meeting Quil's.

Quil's mouth twisted in thought before he picked the best route to take the rest of the conversation. It was hard to make a five-year-old understand an issue so complex and grown up, but like always, he was just going to wing it and hope like hell what he said made a difference.

"I know this might be hard to understand, buddy, but maybe you will," Quil murmured. "Being older or bigger doesn't make your big sister good at all the things. It doesn't make her better at things than you."

Junior frowned, digging the toe of his sneaker into the carpet. "How come?"

Quil took a deep breath. "Because we're all good at different things… and for different reasons."

Junior chewed on that for a moment, sniffling a final time as the wheels turned in his head. Finally, he glanced up, brows puckered low between his eyes in concentration. "Whaddam I good at, Daddy?"

"Well…" Quil hesitated, trying to narrow his list down to a few Junior could easily relate to, "you're good at making huge sandcastles down on Second Beach and you're good at playing Tag and telling stories, because you love stories, just like me when I was little like you."

"And wha's Maddie good at?"

"Maddie's good at different things, like drawing pictures on Christmas cards." Quil shifted in his seat. When Junior's eyes strayed, he reached for him, urging the little boy's eyes to meet his—encouraging him to focus—with a gentle finger under his chin. "Your sister's a good listener, because she'd rather hear a story than tell one like me and you. She's not so good at telling jokes, but she always knows what to say to make us feel better when we're sad… things her daddy was good at when he was your age."

Junior's face screwed up, recalling a memory. "Unca Embwy is Maddie's daddy. That's what Mama told me, like you is my daddy."

"Right, that is what we told you," Quil grinned, nodding. "But that's what I want you to know… Maddie isn't good at those things because she's bigger or older than you, just like Uncle Embry wasn't better than me at things because he was older."

"Why then?" Junior whispered.

"Because we all do things differently," Quil finished, gently poking Junior in the ticklish spot between his ribs, causing the little boy to giggle. "I realized one day that your Uncle Jake and Uncle Embry were good at different things because they slowed down. They took their time. They were patient, which wasn't something I was very good at."

"Patient…" Junior repeated perfectly, as if committing the word to memory.

"Now, it's okay to be fast sometimes," Quil assured, fiddling with the ends of the little boy's scarf. "That's what made me better than them at some things like running a race or telling a joke because I was always more funny than your Uncle Embry."

Junior giggled. "I wike Daddy jokes."

"I know you do," Quil grinned. "But I want to tell you something and I want you to listen, okay?"

He leaned forward, pushing a stray curl from his son's forehead, cupping his cheeks between both hands when the little boy nodded.

"It takes a little time, but that's something I learned from your uncles. I learned that patience pays off. I learned I'm good at different things, but it's okay to slow down sometimes… and you can learn that from them, too." Quil paused, swallowing past a sudden, dull lump in his throat. "All you have to do is watch your sister and it'll be just like me watching your Uncle Embry and learning patience from him. Do you understand?"

"Maddie teach me how'ta go swower," Junior mused, his face pensive.

"Quil grinned, the lump in his throat suddenly replaced by the swelling, insurmountable pride in his chest. "You got it, buddy."

Junior paused, rocking back on his heels and thinking about it for a moment. "Can Maddie help me?" Junior asked. "I wan'er to help me. I wanna watch'er make a pwesent."

"I'm sure she'd love to help you, but if she does," Quil captured the little boy's gaze, "you need to remember the most important thing, okay?"

Stepping into the space between Quil's knees, Junior's watery eyes were replaced by that same blinding grin that made Quil putty in his son's very capable hands. Fingers poking his father's cheeks, he nodded.

"Okay," Quil pressed on, trying to fight his smile until he could get to the point, hoping if there was anything his kid retained and remembered, this would be it. "I want you learn new things. That's what best friends and big sisters are for, but being different is good, too. Being yourself is awesome. Maddie is Maddie, and you are you—the best of all the Quil Atearas that ever lived—and there is no one out there like you and no one who's good at the exact same things and that's okay."

"Tha's why Mama is gonna wike my pwesent, too! Mine. Not jus' Maddie's." Junior exclaimed, taking one more step and throwing his small arms around Quil's neck, squeezing tighter than any five-year-old should be able to squeeze.

That was his kid, though—too rough, too excitable, and too much all rolled into one.

Quil wouldn't have it another way, though, because he lived for those hugs—hugs only his five-year-old gave, each welcome and wanted and capable of pulling every bit of strength and willpower from his body.

"She will love it," Quil whispered, rising to his feet, Junior still secured to his body in a huge bear hug. Releasing a long, relieved sigh, he turned, walking back to the dining room, the others, and a gift for Bella they had yet to make.

Tipping his chin down, he released a deep breath into Junior's curls.

"More than any other present in this world."

✫.¸¸ . ✶*¨*. ¸ .✫

Their small house was dark when Quil emerged from Junior's bedroom, save for the colorful glow of the Christmas tree nestled in the corner of the living room and the warm light given off by flames crackling against logs in the fireplace.

Closing the door to his sleeping boy's room, Quil's gaze instinctively shifted to Maddie's door. She retreated to her room not long after dinner. The light was on—he could see it from the small crack beneath the door, her heartbeat soft and even. Quil smiled, knowing she likely fell asleep in the middle of whatever book she was reading.

Despite the challenges, it was a good day. Quil couldn't help feeling he had some kind of breakthrough with his son—that he taught him some kind of lesson he'd remember in days to come.

That sometimes patience paid off and good things came as a result.

And Quil saw the proof of that patience when he walked into the kitchen.

Bella stood in front of the refrigerator, her back facing him. After pinning the proof to the freezer door with a small, round magnet, she stepped back to look at it.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Quil leaned against the doorframe, watching Bella for a moment. His eyes shifted to Junior's homemade gift, hanging next to the one he gave his mother the Christmas before.

There was a noticeable difference in the two. The first was a mess of colored lines, of haphazardly glued-on shapes cut from construction paper, most of which covered the simple 'Merry Christmas, Mommy!" Quil wrote on the card before turning his son loose on it.

The second one was different—more thought out. In their second attempt at the day's gift, Quil gave Junior the small family photo he kept in his wallet, helping him glue it to the center of the cardstock. After Junior cut pipe cleaners, Maddie helped him carefully glue each one to the edges of the card, creating a picture frame of sorts. She then helped him draw Christmas ornaments in the blank spaces between the photo and the frame edges. Some were perfect, a product of Maddie's steady hand—others, not so much. Those were the ones where Maddie stepped back and let Junior do it himself, only assisting when he asked.

Sure, there were still splotches of marker that didn't belong and unnecessary glitter all over the card itself. Junior colored outside Maddie's carefully drawn lines more often than not, but the point was he slowed down.

The point was he tried, and the result was a gift all his own.

Quil smiled when Bella finally turned her head, peering over her shoulder to catch his gaze. She took a deep breath, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she reached out, her hand inviting him to join her.

Pushing off the doorframe, Quil walked to Bella, wrapping one arm around her shoulders while hers circled his waist. Her cheek nuzzling against his chest, Quil landed a kiss on the crown of her head as she sighed.

"I hate how fast he's growing up," Bella thought out loud, one arm rising, her finger aimlessly traveling over the photo in the special frame before moving to the dreamcatcher. "I hate how fast both of them are growing up." She squeezed Quil's waist a little tighter when she said it.

"We can't stop it, honey," Quil murmured, Bella's words echoing his own sentimental thoughts from earlier in the day.

Bella made a noise of resignation in her throat. "I know. It's just… it's easier to see when I look at this." Her finger moved, tracing the misshapen lines of the newest gift from their five-year-old. "What a difference a year makes."

Quil grinned, a gesture she didn't see. "It's pretty awesome, actually," he admitted, his eyes sweeping back and forth from last year's card to Maddie's handmade dreamcatcher to Junior's picture frame, a do-it-yourself testament to how much their kids loved their mother.

He understood because he didn't want those moments to end either. He couldn't fathom a day without a new milestone to look forward to. He wished he could bottle them all up, or draw them on a card much like the ones already lining the refrigerator.

A place to keep them, even though they were over.

"Junior's picture is missing something though..."

A contemplative sigh following her words, Bella retreated from the warmth of Quil's side.

He frowned, glancing down at Bella as she shifted next to him. "You're nuts," he teased, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Glitter, watercolors, pipe cleaners—I can't think of anything else that would make that gift better."

"No," Bella admitted, peeking up at him, a coy, saccharin grin spreading slowly across her mouth, lighting up her features. There was love in her eyes—a silent, inherent devotion that filled every inch of Quil's body.

Turning back to the fridge, Bella's hand dipped into the back pocket of her jeans, emerging with a small, folded slip of paper.

"But why should I get all the presents? One more gift to you might make this day close to perfect."

His brow puckering in confusion, Quil's eyes lingered on her hand. He held his breath as she unfolded the piece of paper.

Grabbing a magnet from the freezer, Bella pushed the slip of paper to the door, just above Junior's picture frame, securing it with the magnet before taking a step back.

Just as Quil lost his breath completely, his jaw dropping when he realized what she'd given him.

It was more than a piece of paper.

It was a photocopy, black and white proof of a tiny miracle he'd seen once before.

Only this was different.

This was new…

His nose was nearly pressed to the freezer door before he realized his feet moved. Bending at the waist to get a better view, Quil looked for proof to make sure it was real.

Forks General Hospital.

Patient: Bella Ateara.

Obstetrics and gynecology...

It was all there, written above a photo of the tiny thing—a microscopic life, nothing but a fast, fluttering heartbeat growing inside his wife, still too soon for him to figure it out himself.

His child. Their child.

Another...

Bringing a hand to his mouth, it was all Quil could do to hide his blinding smile.

"Shut up…" he choked in disbelief, eyes still fixed on the piece of the paper.

One glance down at Bella, meeting a liquid gaze and brilliant grin already watching him, waiting for his reaction, was enough to set his smile free.

To once again remind him of how much life could change in such a short amount of time.

For the better.

So much for the better…

And it was all he needed, a reassurance to both that their lives would be filled with so many more moments like the ones packed into that single day.

Turning, Quil captured Bella's wrist in his, pulling her to him. He brought his hands up, framing her face between wide palms. He was filled with everything, laughing as he stooped, covering Bella's lips in a forceful, promising kiss.

"Seriously. Just when I think I can't love you anymore," Quil murmured against her mouth, relishing how her smile felt brushing over his, "you go and pull something like this."

Bella laughed, the sound loud and gleeful. She covered his hands with hers, squeezing his fingers. "I gotta find some way to keep you on your toes." Pushing up on her tiptoes, she kissed him again, releasing a deep breath when she pulled away. "I honestly can't believe you didn't figure it out sooner, with the doctor's appointment this morning and how freaking sick I've been the past couple weeks."

"We have a five-year-old, Bella. He's a walking, talking little germ factory," Quil pointed out, gently pushing her hair back from her face.

"True," she giggled, her eyes glowing as she watched him. "You're not upset I didn't tell you sooner?"

Quil shook his head, running his fingers down the length of Bella's jaw before leaving a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. She smiled, her eyes closing in response.

"Of course not," he whispered before pausing, "Well, normally I would be, but this time, I'm glad I didn't, because… the surprise was so much better. It made this day even better."

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Good, because I thought for sure you'd be upset I didn't tell you as soon as I suspected." She narrowed suspecting eyes. "I know how you get with secrets—you always gotta be the first person to know everything, but… I wanted to surprise you."

Quil smiled, knowing there wasn't a shred of indignance inside him. It wasn't possible.

Still, he couldn't keep his words from earlier, words to their son, from resurfacing somewhere in the back of his mind.

Words that suddenly made more sense than ever before.

"Not all the time," Quil shook his head, his voice resolute, the words certain. "Sometimes, being patient pays off."

✫.¸¸ . ✶*¨*. ¸ .✫

E/N: And to quote Chrissi from an earlier conversation we were having — "There should be more Baby Quils in this world."

You got your wish. (^_^)

Merry Christmas, honey, and Merry Christmas to all of you reading this! I heart you all so hard!