Chapter Text
There's an email waiting for Julio when he gets home from work. It was sent to an email he hasn't actively used for anything important since he was a teenager, an old AOL account that he mostly uses to sign up for shit online these days. He clears it out once a month and then goes back to forgetting it exists. Today happens to be a day where he has time to clear out his inbox. And waiting for him at the top is an email from his mom. He stares at it for a bit, blankly, not even opening it yet, because he has no fucking clue what to do with this. The last time he talked to her, he was eighteen and angry and hated himself. That was ten years ago and while he'd like to think he's grown up since then, right now he feels like a lost little kid. He takes a deep breath, mouse hovering over the email. He considers just trashing it for a solid minute, then tells himself to man up and just read it already instead of spinning out about all the worst case scenarios. It's just his mom. Except his mom comes with all the other baggage of his family, so it's never just her. It's her and his father and his uncles and cousins and the guns and the bloodshed and the arguments that never went anywhere because none of them fucking listened to him. It's his mom and all of the expectations he never lived up to. All the different ways he's a fucking failure in the eyes of his family just for existing.
He clicks on the email, despite the fact that he's probably going to hate himself for it.
Dear Julio,
I do not know if you will read this, but I miss you very much. Your cousin Omar is out of prison and I am hoping that you will see this email because I want to have a true Christmas with all the family. I know we have had our disagreements in the past but you are my son and I love you and want to see you again. Here is my phone number, please call me.
xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Love,
Mama
He closes the tab and stares at the wall for a long time, leg bouncing anxiously. When Star comes home, he doesn't mention it. Christmas is over a month and a half away, and he just doesn't want to expose Star to his shitshow of a family, at least any more than he already has.
The email sits unanswered in his inbox for a solid month. Normally time just sort of passes and he doesn't pay attention, but now he feels hyper-aware of the passing days, mentally tallying each date that would have meant something to him as a kid during the Christmas season. He feels restless and sad, worse than winter usually makes him feel. Star makes it worse, but not on purpose. It's just that Julio can see the wistfulness in his eyes as decorations go up and he keeps coming home to find him watching Halmark movies. And he can't blame him, of course. He's not doing anything wrong. Christmas is hard for both of them. Him, because he misses the good parts of his childhood. Star, because he doesn't have anything to miss but misses it anyway. Julio sees it on his face whenever Ali's holiday album starts playing over the radio. He keeps thinking about the email, until it feels like the words are burning a hole in the back of his throat.
"Hey," he says on the twentieth of December, four days before Christmas Eve, "I got an email from my mom."
Star, who's brushing his hair and sitting cross-legged in front of their full-length bedroom mirror because sitting down helps him focus, puts down the brush and cocks his head. "Today?"
He shrugs. "Like a month ago." He feels guilty, suddenly. "Sorry I didn't mention it before. I didn't answer it or anything, I just-" he swallows. "Haven't talked to her in, like, ten years."
He remembers their last conversation. It isn't a happy memory.
"She invited me to Christmas," he finishes lamely.
Star blinks at him. "Do you want to go?"
He shrugs. "Not really? I mean, she doesn't know I'm gay, so I would have to explain about you and me, and that would be a fuckin' nightmare." He walks over and sits down next to Star, picking up the hairbrush and working through the tangles. "I just- I do miss her, y'know? Even though I know it would end badly, I keep thinking about what Christmas was like when I was a kid. 'Cause it was one of the few times my family felt normal. And I miss that."
"We did not celebrate Christmas on Mojoworld," Star says, "But I understand the positive associations, because Christmas has always been something I celebrate with you."
Julio exhales, focusing on a particularly stubborn knot in Star's hair rather than answering right away. "I know," he says. "And I know it makes you sad, that you don't have family to celebrate with."
"I have you, and the various members of the teams we have been on over the years," Star insists.
"Yeah, but it's not the same, is it?"
"No," Star says after a moment, voice soft, "It is not the same."
They're both silent for a bit, Julio finishing brushing through Star's hair and starting on the braid. It's always comforting, doing this for him. It's something they started doing even before they were together.
"You could go without me," Star suggests hesitantly.
"I'm not leaving you alone on Christmas, dude," Julio tells him, tying off the braid with a Christmas scrunchie. Star's got themed hair ties for every holiday. It's really fucking cute. "If I went, you'd come too."
"Even though it would make it difficult for you?"
He leans forward and rests his chin on Star's shoulder. "Yeah, even then. It's like you said, you have me no matter what."
Star turns his head and dips his chin to catch him in a kiss. It's not really a surprise, not when they've been together so long. They know each other's moves. But there's comfort in the predictability of it, in knowing how Star moves and not having to guess at what's going on inside his head every second of the day. In knowing that Star knows him just as well. They make out for a bit, until his ass starts to go numb from sitting on the floor and he can feel Star hard against his thigh. The heater kicks on as they move to the bed, and by the time they're done they're both sweaty and blissed out. Julio knows he wouldn't trade this for anything.
"I gotta get to work," he says, wishing he could just stay in bed for the rest of the day. Beating back the part of his brain that makes him want to never move again. It's always worse during the winter. "But I'll see you later."
Star nods, burrowing further into the blankets. Julio kisses his cheek and pulls the blanket over him before heading to the Shakedown. He loves what he's built here, more than anything Krakoa had to offer. Sometimes it all feels like a dream, most days. Except for the nightmares he still has and the scars and the fact that his powers are different. The fact that he can feel the island like an open wound some days. He stares at the Christmas lights strung up around the bar and the little menorah in the window that Bobby Drake brought by and thinks of being a kid, of villancicos and buñuelos and trying not to fall asleep during midnight mass and the connection to home that he can't quite shake, despite all the bad shit that happened to him there.
He's still thinking about it on the subway, and then as he walks up to their apartment. He can't stop thinking about it, even if it might be healthier for him to just forget. He would be a lot happier if he could. Star is on the couch when he walks in, a Halmark movie playing. He's got that wistful expression on his face and a plate of reheated Chinese takeout in his lap and looking at him still makes Julio feel like he's eighteen and scared shitless because he's falling in love for the first time and doesn't know how to handle it.
He's come a long way in ten years.
He strips out of his coat and plops down on the couch next to Star, throwing an arm over his shoulder and kissing his cheek because he can, because he's not eighteen and he's not scared anymore.
"Love you," he says, because he can say it now without feeling like he's going to throw up.
"Love you, too," Star says, eyes still glued to the screen.
Julio doesn't get his fascination with these movies, but there's a lot of things about Star he doesn't get that he goes along with anyway. That's ninety-nine percent of making their relationship work. Star doesn't get all the shit Julio's brain pulls, but he sticks around. God knows why. He zones out, resting his head on Star's shoulder and playing with the end of his braid. Presses his nose against the bare skin of his neck and feels Star jolt a little at the cold.
"Julio," Star says, half-laughing, half-warning.
Julio adjusts, pressing his lips to Star's shoulder instead. Pauses, then drags his teeth across the skin. Retracing his steps from earlier. Feels Star shudder and grins, soothing over the already disappearing mark with his tongue.
"Julio," Star says again, a hiccup of something in his voice.
"What," he says, voice tinged with mischief, "Am I distractin' you?" He kisses Star's neck, nosing at the sensitive spot under his jaw. "You want me to stop?"
"No," Star says, voice turning soft and dark with intent, "I do not want you to stop." He pauses the movie, and sets his dinner on the coffee table.
After, when they're curled up together in a sweaty tangle of limbs, he runs his fingers through Star's hair and thinks about how he wants to introduce Star to his mom. It won't go well, of course, but he fantasizes for a moment about a world where it does. Where he gets to have Christmas like he's a kid again and have his boyfriend there. He feels shitty about it. He's happy with what they have, of course he is, but he still wants more. He's jealous of the perfect Christmas special TV show families, the straight people that don't have to think twice about introducing the people they love to their parents without it blowing up in their faces.
He's never handled these things very well. When he was younger, he ran away. He's been trying not to do that. He wonders if that's what he's doing by ignoring his mom's email. He grimaces at the thought. Sometimes he hates being self-aware. When he was younger, he could cope in unhealthy ways like drinking and running away because he didn't know any better. Now, though, he has to at least try to be a functional human being. His stomach growls, and he groans, burying his face in Star's neck.
"Julio?" Star says sleepily, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he mumbles. "Jus' thinkin'."
Star hums, hand coming up to stroke his spine. He melts a little, exhaling, trying to just exist in his body and not think about shit for a while. It's a losing battle, but he can try for a little while. Star helps. God, does he help. He stays like that until he can't ignore that he's hungry anymore, and he drags himself off of the couch and into the kitchen.
"You hungry?" he asks Star, rooting through the fridge. "I'm gonna make something."
Star lifts his head. "I am always hungry for your cooking. You are very talented in the kitchen."
Julio laughs a little, flustered. Star has a way of complimenting him that makes it sound like he's stating an objective fact. "Thanks, dude. You got any requests?"
Star shakes his head, closing his eyes. Julio knows he's been trying to figure himself out lately. He's not built for normal human society and Julio doesn't fault him for that, but he knows Star feels unfulfilled sitting at home all day. Even Star can't watch TV all day every day without going a little stir crazy, as it turns out. He's been volunteering at a soup kitchen lately, and Julio is proud of him for it.
"Okay," he says, and he realizes he's subconsciously looking for ingredients for the foods of his childhood as he goes through the fridge. He closes the door and presses his forehead to the cool metal of it, blinking back sudden tears. "Actually, I'm feeling kinda shitty. Might just have leftovers."
He tries to breathe through it. In for two, hold for three, out for four. In for two, hold for three, out for four. In for two- He chokes, something sticky filling his lungs like crude oil. He's vaguely aware of Star getting off the couch and coming up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his chin to the crown of Julio's hair. A comforting pressure, like tectonic plates shifting together.
"Tell me what is the matter," Star says.
"I think I wanna call my mom," Julio blurts. He wants to, god does he. But the idea also fills him with terror. "I've been thinking about it and I want to go back to Mexico for Christmas like she offered."
Saying it is like a physical weight off his chest. Part of him wants Star to tell him no, just so he has an easy out, but Star just hums. "Would I go with you?" he asks carefully.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, y'know, I'll just tell her about us over the phone. That way if she freaks out then we don't make the trip for no reason."
"A sensible strategy," Star agrees, kissing his hair.
Julio leans back against him and breathes out. "Yeah. Let's hope it doesn't blow up in my face."
They sit back down on the couch, both silent as he dials the number from the email. The phone rings just long enough for his anxiety to go practically nuclear before his mom picks up. "Hey, Mama," he says in Spanish, the words coming easier than he thought they would.
"Julio, is that you? My son, how are you?" Her voice sounds strange through the phone, almost alien. Like a total stranger, yet so familiar at the same time that it hurts somewhere deep in his chest. It makes it hard to breathe.
"I'm good," he tells her, voice cracking slightly.
"I worried you would not call! It is so good to hear your voice," she says, excitement palpable. "Are you coming home for Christmas?"
He swallows. "Yeah. I, uh, I am. Is it okay if I bring someone with me?" He grabs Star's hand to keep his from shaking.
"Oh, yes of course. I would love to meet your girlfriend!"
He winces. Star squeezes his hand. "I don't have a girlfriend. But-"
"Oh, well, then there's plenty of young women I can introduce you to."
"Thanks," he says around his stupid, useless tongue. He didn't think this would be easy or anything, but he underestimated just how hard it would actually be. He hasn't felt this fucking scared since he was a kid. "His name is Star," he manages.
"You are bringing a friend with you?"
"Yeah," he says, hating himself. Maybe if he strongly implies it, she'll get the memo and he won't have to deal with the actual conversation. He avoids looking at Star, feeling horribly guilty. "He doesn't have anyone to celebrate with, so we usually..." He trails off, because half of what they usually do on Christmas involves stuff that he feels awkward mentioning to his mom.
"Well, then, of course he may come. I look forward to meeting him."
"Cool," he manages, "Thanks, Mama. We'll be there in a few days, okay?"
"Do you need to be picked up from the airport at a certain time?"
"No, we're fine. We can get ourselves to the house. Goodbye, Mama."
"Goodbye, Julio. I love you."
"Goodbye," he repeats, then hangs up the phone. He drops the phone in his lap, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" Star asks softly, hand in between his shoulder blades.
"'Cause I was too chickenshit to tell her about us."
Star makes a noise in the back of his throat. Low then high pitch. A question.
"I'm not ashamed of you, of us. I'm not that person anymore. I just-"
"You were scared," Star says.
"She's my mom," he explains helplessly.
Star tugs him into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "I am not upset. I know this is hard for you."
"Still, it's not fair to make you wait for me to get my shit together."
"I waited a long time. Waiting again, by your side, is no great burden."
Julio laughs, chest twisting. "You can't just say shit like that, dude."
"Why not? I mean it."
"Fuck," he exhales, pressing his face into Star's neck. "I love you."
"I love you too," Star says.
The next day and a half are spent packing and canceling last minute on their usual plans. He feels bad, telling Tabby he won't be around, but she just tells him to bring her back a souvenir to make it even. He thinks about how happy his mom would be if he was bringing her with him instead of Star, then quickly shoves the thought away. He's over trying to be something he's not. His mom will just have to deal with it. They teleport, because there's no point in paying for plane tickets when Star can get them there in no time at all. He's gotten better at not immediately passing out after teleporting. Plus, there's no way they'd get his swords through airport security, and Julio knows he doesn't like going into unfamiliar environments without them.
They take a cab down to his mom's house and the entire time Julio clings to Star's hand like a lifeline, knowing that once they get there he's either going to have to let go or explain plainly what they are to each other. Either way, it's going to be tough. He tells himself that he's brave enough to actually tell his mom about him and Star, instead of just letting their clasped hands speak for him. He fights back the urge to shake Star off when his head dips onto his shoulder. He doesn't care what anyone thinks, and he's strong enough to back that up. He's not a scared kid anymore, and he's not going to make Star hide again. He can do this. He can.
He can't. As soon as the cab pulls up to the house, he lets go of Star's hand in the guise of grabbing his wallet to pay the driver, shaking his boyfriend awake in the process. He doesn't take Star's hand again, and he knows Star notices. He resists the urge to compulsively apologize. Not the time. He can make it up to him later. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he and Star grab their luggage and walk up to the front door. It looks the same as he remembers. The wreathe is different, but his mom did like to get fresh ones every year so that's not all that surprising. The sun soaking into his back through his shirt is a familiar and welcome change from the icy cold of New York. He did miss it. There's a part of him that always misses it, no matter how far he runs.
The door opens, and it's not his mom. He blinks. Omar blinks back at him. In all his anxiety, Julio kind of forgot that his mom mentioned that he'd gotten out of jail. They stare at each other awkwardly.
"Hey, man," Julio says after a minute of silence.
"Hey," Omar looks wary, eyes flicking back at Star. Julio resists the urge to step into his line of sight and shield Star. It's not like his cousin is going to try anything on Christmas, and even if he did, Star could take him easily with both hands tied behind his back. "Tia said you were coming."
"Yeah," Julio says. "Is she here?"
Omar nods, still looking at Star. "Didn't know you were bringing someone."
"He's my-" Julio swallows "-friend. And he speaks Spanish."
"Hello," Star says, ever polite.
"Hey," Omar says, still eyeing Star, like he can't quite figure out what his deal is. It's a familiar look, but it still makes Julio bristle.
"Can we come in?" he says, just on the edge of snappish.
Omar opens the door the rest of the way. "Sure, man, be my guest."
Julio looks around the house, at the familiar decorations. The poinsettias by the front door and the tinsel over the windows and the ornaments he made in elementary school on the tree. The little wooden nativity set on the mantle that he used to play with as a kid, before his dad yelled at him that dolls were for girls. He'd only ever liked playing with the animals, but that didn't matter to his dad. It makes his chest hurt, all of a sudden. He takes a steadying breath and turns away from it, wiping furtively at his eyes. He can hear his mom puttering around the kitchen, and he can feel Star's solid presence at his back.
He's home. For better or worse.