Everything is Not What it Seems-Newtmas AU

Chapter Twenty Three

Newt woke to see his sister standing over him, a sly grin on her face, giving him the fright of his life. He squeaked audibly, scrambling upwards and hitting his head off the wooden board at the back of his bed. Sonya laughed at him, her hand clutching her stomach as she wheezed.

"I was only coming to say Merry Christmas!" She gasped, trying to calm herself down. She watched as Newt rubbed his head, a cross look upon his face. "Oh, lighten up, Newt. Come on, I made pancakes for breakfast."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, swinging his legs out of his bed and on to the carpeted floor. "Hey, Sonya?" He stopped his sister from leaving his room, and she turned to look at him. "Merry Christmas."

Happy, she skipped off with a wide smile stretching at her cheeks. 

Newt didn't realise how cold his room was until the whole of his body was standing in the centre of his room. Looking at the radiator, he flicked his hand up, turning the dial on and to a medium setting. Satisfied with the setting and incoming heat, he went downstairs and into the kitchen where his mother and sister were busy covering their pancakes with bacon and syrup.

"Morning, Newt," Delilah said before she kissed her son on the forehead-something she hadn't done in a long time. "Happy Christmas."

"You too, mum," he replied, grabbing a plate from the cupboard and lifting a pancake on to it. With a small, silver knife, he quartered strawberries, dropping them on to his breakfast and dusted it with sugar. He caught Delilah and Sonya giving him an appalled look. "What?" He said. "I like fruit."

Usually, on Christmas morning, the silence between the three of them was awkward and it daunted the atmosphere but, this year, there was none of that. They shared a civilised conversation while they ate, commenting on Sonya's excellent baking skills. 

Pancakes were a traditional Christmas breakfast meal for them. For as long as Newt could remember, they ate it every year, and used the exact same recipe. Newt tried not to think of the reason why because it upset him, and he didn't want to dull anyone else's spirits.

It was their fathers speciality. He made them annually, and never once did he alter the recipe or add anything to it. It was always pancakes, plain and simple. Even after Newt's parents divorced, Sonya carried on his legacy, not wanting to let go of the memories of him just yet. Because Sonya loved to cook and bake, she was up at the crack of dawn with him, watching as he whisked and fried away, singing along badly to Christmas carols that woke Delilah and Newt up at ungodly hours.

"What time are you leaving at today?" Delilah asked, breaking the silence. 

Newt had to look at the clock because he didn't know what the time actually was. It read half-past nine, and he remembered he had to pick up Thomas at eleven o'clock. "An hour and a half, I think," he said.

"I'll leave then as well," Sonya piped up. 

"Alright, loves, go have a shower and get dressed. I'll clean up," Delilah said, picking up the empty plates and dunking them in the sink. Newt knew that not having her children with her on Christmas day was upsetting, especially since it was the first time they'd be doing that. But, for them to progress, she had to take a step back and let go of the reigns she held tightly on them.

Newt jogged up the stairs, hurrying to get into the bathroom before Sonya. He heard her groan in protest, shouting at him for being unfair, but he ignored her and turned on the shower, stepping into it once it was warm enough.

He washed his hair with the mint scented shampoo Thomas loved, lathering it up in his blonde locks and rinsing it out. He used the body wash that smelled strongly of cinnamon, daring to change it up for once. Satisfied he was clean and fresh, he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his hip. He brushed his teeth and sprayed a bit of deodorant. He never usually went to such lengths, but he wanted to impress Thomas...and his parents.