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yoursassybookwormfriend · 1 year

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Nevermoor Big Bang Fic

A short fic about the unit and Jack bonding at Christmas

“I still don’t see why you had to invite them over,” Jack complained as he dropped into Morrigan’s favorite octopus chair and swung his legs over the armrest. “It’s just a small party. You’ll see them again in like, a week, tops,”

“They’re my unit, Jack, and it’s Frank’s Christmas party, of course I had to invite them over!” Morrigan didn’t bother to look at him as she argued, instead gazing intently at the small W inlaid in the door beside the fireplace. A door that led to the Wundrous Society. A door that led to Wundersmiths. A door that led to her friends. Where are they? she wondered, shuffling her feet. They’re coming, right?

“Oh please!” Jack groaned. “Frank has had a party every day this week, and he’ll probably have like, a million more before school starts again.”

“Which is why they should be allowed to come to this one, Jack!” Morrigan retorted. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to annoy me before the break’s over,” Morrigan spared a glance from the still unfortunately closed door to glare at Jack, who was grumpily batting at her chair’s tentacles, shoving them away whenever they got close. Idiot, thought Morrigan. The tentacles are the best part.

As if he could hear her insulting thoughts, Jack sat up to return her glare full force (or rather, half-force, given his eyepatch). “Oh believe me—”

“Watch it, or—”

“Or, maybe we can all have fun as one big group?” Jupiter suggested, stepping in between them before they could say anything else. “Jack, you could get some bonding time with Unit 919! Won’t that be fun? You can make some new friends!”

If Morrigan hadn’t turned to face Jupiter, maybe she would have noticed the subtle tense of Jack’s shoulders at Jupiter’s words, or the way his scowl looked a bit more somber, just for a moment. If she hadn’t been so nervous about the party, maybe she would have noticed his silence. Instead, she twisted her hands as her eyes flicked between Jupiter and the door to Station 919.

“Do…do you really think that they’ll have fun?” Morrigan asked hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve only ever had Cadence and Hawthorne over, and nine is a lot of people, and maybe Francis won’t like the food, or Thaddea won’t like Kedgeree, or—”

“Deep breaths, Mog.” Jupiter laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “They know you’re not dangerous now. It will be nothing like the last time you invited them over,”

Morrigan would never get used to Jupiter’s ability to know exactly how she was feeling. “Really?”

Jupiter smiled. “Of course! And I can’t wait to meet your unit properly! I’ve only ever really met them once or twice, but you talk about them so much, I feel like I already know them inside and out. You know the saying: ‘My scholar’s unitmates are my—figuratively—adopted children’!”

Morrigan frowned. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying at all,”

“Oh balderdash, I’m just excited to finally bond with your unitmates! It’s like Christmas is already here!”

“Um, about that…” Morrigan said guiltily. “It’s just that—”

But before Morrigan could finish, she was interrupted by the loud BANG of the door as it swung open to reveal Hawthorne Swift, Morrigan’s best friend, wearing the most gaudy and overdone ugly Christmas sweater that Morrigan had ever seen.

“How good is this SWEATER?” Hawthorne shouted as he stepped dramatically into the room. He grinned at Morrigan and gave a little twirl, showing off all sides and angles of the strange monstrosity. It seemed as if Cat Swift had taken every holiday-related item she could find and sewed it directly into the sweater, and every item she couldn’t sew on, she had embroidered with shiny red and gold thread. Morrigan spotted multiple ornaments, candy canes, tinsel, christmas lights, and even a sprig of evergreen hidden amongst the hectic stitches of snowmen, trees, and, of course, a big red sleigh with Saint Nick smiling as he held up a present in his hands. Morrigan wished she could say that she hated it—color and busyness weren’t often her forte—but she had to admit that she was impressed. It was the most perfectly chaotic yet festive thing she had ever seen in her life, something exactly Hawthorne.

“It’s…insane,” Morrigan managed to answer, though no words could ever fully describe Hawthorne’s Christmas sweater.

“I’m going to take that as a complement!” Hawthorne winked as he strutted into the room like he was at a fashion show.

“It’s festive, at least,” Arch sighed with a small smile as he walked through the door. A sharp contrast to Hawthorne, he was dressed formal yet minimalistic, wearing a light green dress shirt with a forest green vest and matching slacks. His hair was slicked to the side with gel, much unlike Hawthorne’s chaotic curls, which he refused to cut.

“Thank you!” Hawthorne twirled once more. “But I still don’t understand why you’d side with the Yule Queen.”

“Maybe because Arch knows style, unlike you?” Cadence quipped, stepping through the doorway. Cadence wore sleek green boots along with green dress pants and an elegant long-sleeve sweater with simple evergreen trees embroidered on it in a careful palette of green. In her ears were two sparkly evergreen earrings. Cadence knew style.

Behind Cadence, the rest of the unit trailed in, each decked out in one color or another. Mahir wore a red sweater decorated with presents and snowflakes along with red sweatpants and red and white sneakers. Lam came in with a cloak of silvery green that trailed around her ankles and offset the sparkly green tinsel she had braided into her hair. Anah wore a cute red dress and simple red flats.

Morrigan was surprised as Thaddea stomped into the room with her normal brown boots, now laced with bright green laces. Along with those boots bright green sweatpants, a dark green t-shirt, and an algae green sweatshirt tied around her waist.

“I didn’t expect you to support the Yule Queen, Thaddea!” Morrigan laughed.

Thaddea scoffed. “Saint Nick is just some boring old guy. You’re asking me to choose between him and a woman who tamed her own snow hound? It’s no contest.”

Francis, to Morrigan’s amusement, came in looking like he was being choked to death by winter items, wearing a big green puffy jacket and his lime colored ski pants, as well as big green boots and a green scarf so large it trailed on the floor behind him.

“Francis, you do realize you never had to go outside, right?” asked Morrigan, staring disbelievingly at his outfit. “You just went from your house to Station 919.”

“One sec!” Francis shouted, though his voice was muffled by his scarf. Very slowly---as one must do when choked to death by about 5 layers of clothing---he began to take off his winter gear, piece by piece. Morrigan watched as Francis’ light green coat and scarf gave way to a red long-sleeve shirt, and his lime green snow pants and large, chunky boots came off to reveal red pants and socks. Once he was done, there was a pile of snow gear on the floor and Francis had completely changed his allegiance.

“Francis, what in the world was that for?” Mahir asked, looking confused. “Did you really wear all of that just for a stunt?”

Francis’ eyes flicked to the ridiculous pile of green at his feet, then back to the unit. “Oh no, this isn’t a stunt,” he laughed nervously. “It’s just that Aunt Hester says that the Fitzwilliams should always show solidarity in their Christmas allegiances, and that ‘Saint Nick is just a senile old fat man that can’t be bothered to do any work himself, unlike the Yule Queen’, but Saint Nick gives people presents and lights their hearths, so I don’t know, I kind of like him better? Anyway I just thought that I could be Yule Queen with them and Saint Nick with you guys, you know?”

“Francis, that is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard,” Hawthorne clapped Francis on the back and theatrically wiped away a tear. “You make me so proud,”

“Oh, oh u-um, thanks?” Francis stuttered.

“Okay!” Morrigan clapped her hands together to get her unit’s attention. “I know only a few of you have met, but this is Jack,” Morrigan gestured to Jack, who immediately shrunk back into her octopus chair and looked away. “Jack, this is the unit. I know that you’ve met Cadence and Hawthorne, but this is Arch, Mahir, Lam, Anah, Francis, and Thaddea.” She pointed to each of them in turn.

A chorus of “Hello,” came from the unit.

“Alright, so . . . who’s ready for a party?” Morrigan looked at Jupiter for support. She’d never exactly been a party host before, not in Nevermoor and certainly not in Jackalfax. She was sure half the town would have fainted at the mere thought of it. Jupiter patted her on the back reassuringly.

“Right!” he grinned, immediately settling into his usual outgoing personality. “We’re going to have a great party, just you wait! Everybody’s here, right?”

“Our patrons are still out in the station talking, Mr. North,” said Arch, pointing towards Morrigan’s door. “Should I go get them?”

“P-patrons?” Jupiter spluttered, his face slipping from its happy-go-lucky smile for just a moment. “Of course, go get them, we wouldn’t want to leave them out of the fun!”

As Arch left, Jupiter turned to Morrigan, staring at her incredulously. Patrons?! You didn’t say their patrons were coming! He seemed to communicate silently. Morrigan shuffled her feet and shrugged back as if to say Sorry, I thought you’d be ok with them coming. Jupiter gave her a sharp look in return No, I’m not ok with it, thank you!

But Jupiter had to pull it together as Arch came back, this time with the patrons in tow. Morrigan assumed that he didn’t know the other patrons very well at all. Even Morrigan, despite also being a member of the same notoriously hard-to-get-into society and spending almost every day with the scholars they sponsored, barely knew the basics of their names and whose patron they each were. As Morrigan watched the patrons of Unit 919 file into her room, she smiled when he saw Nan, the one patron he knew best, and couldn’t help a sigh of relief when he realized that Baz Charlton and Hester Fitzwilliam weren’t in attendance. Though she was pretty sure that by now the other patrons had accepted her, Morrigan was wary of Baz and Hester, who still thought that she was a murderous monster that should be deported. Whatever, they’re odious anyway.

“Hello everybody!” Jupiter exclaimed joyfully, as if the patrons’ arrival was completely expected. “Jolly Christmas and a grand Yuletide to you all!”

“Jupiter!” Nan grinned as she stepped forward and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you. Care to give us a tour of your hotel? I’ve been meaning to see it,”

“Sure!” Jupiter answered, before facing the other patrons. “And you all can come as well! We can have a little adult party, just us patrons, how does that sound?” He finished the offer with a smile that was just a little bit too toothy to be genuine.

As the other patrons murmured with polite agreement, Morrigan looked back at Jupiter. She knew how much he had been looking forward to spending time with the unit. Was he really going to go off and entertain the other patrons on such short notice? Does he even know their names? Morrigan wondered. As far as she knew, Jupiter had only met the patrons—barring Nan, Hester, and Baz—a few times, and that was mostly back during Morrigan’s first year in the society, when many of them still believed that she was a cold-hearted killer. She doubted that Jupiter had made much of an effort to befriend people like that.

Even as Jupiter got Martha to lead the patrons to the Smoking Room (which had been blowing a heavenly cinnamon roll smoke all day), Morrigan still caught an angry glance or two from some of the patrons that she didn’t know very well. Morrigan shrugged it off. She had expected reactions like that, especially since her unit had been updating her on the mixed successes of their attempts to get their patrons to trust her. Besides, it wasn’t as if Morrigan was unused to glares and angry whispers when people thought that she wasn’t looking.

“Well, first things first: Secret Santas,” Morrigan smiled, turning back to the unit. “I’ve got them all down in the lobby,”

The unit cheered and filed into a line, following Hawthorne and Cadence as they led the way to the hotel’s glass elevator. As they left, Morrigan grabbed a reluctant Jack and pulled him to his feet, shoving him towards the door. Before Jack could make it out of her room, however, Jupiter appeared in the doorway, nervously running his fingers through his beard.

“Are you ok?” Morrigan asked, starting to panic. Had she messed up the whole night by inviting the patrons over? Did Jupiter hate her? Was she doomed to ruin parties forever? “I’m sorry, the unit told their patrons about the party and they wanted to come and I thought you’d be good with it, I’m so, so sorry,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jupiter assured her, shoving his fidgety hands into his pockets. “It will be great! Besides, we’re all in the society, we’re practically family,”

“Really?” Jack scoffed. “I bet you don’t even know all of their names and who their scholars are,”

“That’s easy,” Morrigan argued. “Of course he knows that much,”

“Yes, of course!” Jupiter repeated confidently.

Jack smirked. “Ok, so do it. Name all eight patrons and which scholar they sponsor,”

Jupiter returned the smirk. “Baz Charlton and Cadence Blackburn of course, and Nan and Hawthorne obviously. Then it’s Hester and Francis I believe . . .” Jupiter faltered a bit.

“There’s more,” urged Jack.

“I know there’s more! I was just catching my breath. Ok so, there’s Sumati Mishra and . . . Arch is it? No, she’s Anah’s patron. Then Miss . . . Miss Something-Or-Other Mulryan and Mahir. See? SEE? I know them!”

Morrigan and Jack shared a wicked smile. “Three more,” she grinned.

“THREE MORE?!” cried Jupiter, his face falling. “No, no, that can’t be right.”

“You still need Arch’s patron, Lam’s patron, and Thaddea’s patron,” Morrigan laughed.

“Well, what’s a better time for learning names than now?” Jupiter responded, his usual optimism coming back like a boomerang. Jupiter always seemed to be overly optimistic. It was one of the things that Morrigan most loved and hated about him.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Jupiter?” she asked, looking into his eyes for a sign to call it all off.

“I’ll be fine, Mog. Go be with your friends.”

And so Jupiter left to go host a rather awkward party of the unit’s patrons while Morrigan and Jack went down to the lobby, where Frank had quickly trapped the unit into listening to one of his dramatic tales. Every time one of them seemed to lose interest in his story, Frank shouted a new twist, until Morrigan was fairly certain that the story had changed entirely. That is, unless Frank somehow managed to save a runaway princess from a bomb set off by the secret zombie mafia that ran the grocery store down the street.

“Frank, maybe you can finish your totally accurate story later,” Morrigan interjected as Frank revealed that the princess was in love with the half-zombie half-robot son of the mafia leader.

“Ugh, no one appreciates the fine arts anymore!” Frank pouted as he stalked off to go brood somewhere.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and turned to the unit. “I know all of you were looking forward to the Secret Santas, so I thought we could do that first. Kedgeree, do you have all of the gifts?”

Kedgeree looked up from a table across the lobby where he was laying the last present of nine on a fancy red-and-green tablecloth. “Aye, lass. Just got the last one a few minutes ago.”

“A few minutes ago? I thought we brought them all in last week.”

“Sorry,” Francis apologized, turning as red as his outfit. “I thought my gift was good enough, but then I realized that it totally wasn’t, so I got a little something last minute to replace it,”

“Who cares?” groaned Thaddea. “We have all of the presents now, let’s see what we got!”

“Yes!” shouted Hawthorne. “Let the gift-opening COMMENCE!”

The unit clearly agreed. As one, they stormed the present table, nearly scaring Kedgeree to death. It was a hectic time as everyone grabbed presents, read the name on them, and passed them around, trying to fit the gifts to their owners. After what seemed like forever, and many curses in many different languages—Hawthorne was taking Mahir’s lessons to heart—everyone in the unit had their present.

To Morrigan’s amusement, it was very clear whose gift was from whom. The present wrapped in extravagant, shiny green paper with an elegant ribbon that Mahir had in his hands was clearly from Lam, Francis’ elaborate-yet-messy present that was wrapped in a quilt of different wrapping papers was from Hawthorne, and Thaddea’s pink and gold gift bag from Morrigan was hardly a mystery, especially next to Kedgeree’s uniform.

Morrigan looked down at her present, a simply wrapped gift with cheerful yellow paper. When she unwrapped it, she revealed a small blue box, inside of which was a modest yet charming bracelet with a crow pendant on it. Morrigan smiled.

“Thank you so much Anah,” Morrigan said, putting on the bracelet and watching as it caught the light from the chandelier. “It’s lovely,”

“H-how did you know it was me?” Anah asked, holding a gift bag with a fancy green swirl that, if you squinted, was a cursive F. The Fitzwilliams are certainly something, Morrigan thought sarcastically.

“Just a hunch, Anah. Thank you though,”

“You’re wel—”

“Morrigan! Can you help me, like, burn this wrapping paper off or something?” Hawthorne’s request cut through Anah’s words. He held out a deftly wrapped present with a complicated and delicate looking bow. It was so neat that Morrigan couldn’t see a sliver of tape on it, only the knife-sharp creases of the wrapping paper. “I can’t get it undone!”

Morrigan took the present in her hands and dug her fingernails into the creases. “I’m not going to burn it, Hawthorne, I might wreck the present. Besides, no knacks outside of Proudfoot, remember?” Morrigan tugged at the paper, but it wouldn't budge. Huh. Turning the box over, she pulled at the other side. No luck. She tried again. And again. After about five long minutes of struggling (and maybe just a tiny bit of Inferno), she managed to get the wrapping paper off. With a final flourish, Morrigan handed the opened box to Hawthorne.

“Yes! Just what I wanted!” Hawthorne shouted, picking up a brand new pair of leather dragonriding gloves. “I got mine burnt by Eyes Like The Sun At Sunset last month.” As Morrigan watched Hawthorne try on his new present, she couldn’t help but notice that the confetti the gloves had rested on was carefully cut into the shape of dragons. Morrigan turned to Arch and raised her eyebrow knowingly, as if to say Really? That’s a bit over-the-top, isn’t it? Archan caught her look and blushed, suddenly finding his dress shoes very interesting.

“I remember that!” Cadence laughed. “You cried the entire ride home!”

“I did not!”

The unit laughed, sharing their presents and who they believed gifted them, along with memories of things that had happened that year. It was one of the best times Morrigan had had all year, especially now that the Hollowpox was over. She couldn’t believe she had doubted her unitmates. Of course they’d come! Of course the party would be fun! They were brothers and sisters after all! As Morrigan laughed and joked along with the unit, none of them noticed Jack, who stood aside silently, no present in his hand.

After a while, Morrigan felt a finger poke her shoulder. “Well,” Jack spoke for the first time since Morrigan’s room, “I’m gonna go,”

“What? You can’t go!” Morrigan gasped, turning away from the unit. “Stay with us!”

Jack took in the unit, who were still wheezing from an inside joke that Thaddea had made. His frown deepened. “No, I think I’m gonna go to the hotel library. Do you want me to get you anything?” His frown turned to a teasing smirk. “I know you can’t reach above the first shelf,”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Morrigan snapped. “The ‘short Morrigan’ jokes are getting a little old, aren’t they?”

“What short Morrigan jokes?” asked Hawthorne, walking up to stand beside Morrigan.

“Jack said that I can’t reach above the first shelf of the library,” Morrigan rolled her eyes.

To her surprise, however, Hawthorne cracked up. “Oh my Divine, that’s so funny!” he turned to the unit “Guys, listen to the joke that Jack made!”

Soon the whole unit was rolling on the floor laughing as they listened to Jack retell all of his short jokes from the last few months. Morrigan just scoffed as she watched the unit. It wasn’t that funny, was it? Sure, she was quite short, but did it really make them cry with laughter to think about?

Then Mahir made a joke, working off of one that Jack had made last week. Then Hawthorne added to that joke. Cadence added to his. Soon, the whole unit was making their own jokes, standing next to Morrigan to show off their height difference or grabbing things to make her taller like Kederee’s ladder or Dame Chanda’s high heels. Morrigan thought about telling them off, and very nearly did, until she saw Thaddea pat Jack on the back and his genuine smile as Francis asked him to try a new cookie he had made that was supposed to give one “the feeling of watching the first snow of the year”. She hadn’t realized just how much Jack was struggling with fitting in, but now she could see that he found a way to get along with the unit just fine. And end to the jokes would be nice though.

“Alright, alright,” Morrigan rolled her eyes as Hawthorne and Jack placed a paper crown on her head that read “Short Queen” in messy handwriting. “Let’s move on to the next activity, okay? Who’s ready to make some ornaments?”

There were a few grumbles here and there as the unit and Jack had to abandon their elaborately planned jokes, but soon they all got into the decorating spirit. Morrigan had gotten Frank to pull out his best decoration supplies and set them on a table for the unit to make into little ornaments to hang on the tree that Thaddea had helped bring into Station 919 a week ago. There were all kinds of paper, ribbons, and paint in every color imaginable, and enough glue and scissors to supply a small factory. Since when did he have all this? She thought. Morrigan was suddenly much less sympathetic to Frank’s groans about his budget.

Just like their presents, the unit’s ornaments were as unique as their creators. Thaddea made a wooden one with the MacLeod family crest carved into it, Francis baked a gingerbread wreath—Hawthorne nearly ate it before Francis told him he used glue to preserve it, and Mahir had painted variations of “Happy holidays” in at least 30 languages in neat, loopy calligraphy on his. Morrigan herself was reaching for a length of silver-edged bow to add to her black-painted ornament when she cut herself on some stiff paper that was in the way.

“Shoot,” Morrigan muttered, watching a single drop of blood fall from her finger.

Hawthorne nudged her with his elbow. “At least it’s not like the time Heloise cut Miss Cheery, or this entire place would be ashes!”

“Or as bad as the cuts you got from the bearwun,” Cadence added from Morrigan’s other side, “You almost lost a leg!”

I don’t want that to ever happen again,” Morrigan laughed as each unit member cut in with their own stories of injuries at Wunsoc.

“Remember that cut I got on my forehead, Anah?” asked Thaddea.

“Please don’t remind me, Thaddea, it was awful!”

“Or when I missed class because my fingers were broken?” added Arch.

“At least you had one less day with the teacher that nearly sold us so that he could be ‘cool’!”

“Hey!” called Jack, his voice taking on a strange, exaggeratedly happy tone. “Look at my ornament! Pretty accurate, right?” Jack held up a crude rectangle of cardboard hung by a string, on which a cutout of a photo of the unit was glued, with Mog’s legs cut off so that she looked two feet shorter than all of them.

“Ha!” Mahir laughed, “Oh wow, that’s so good!”

“Yeah, it perfectly captures just how short Morrigan is!” Hawthorne elbowed Arch. “Doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, perfectly!” Arch grinned, and Morrigan would have rolled her eyes at him, but for once, she saw a true gleam of mischief in his usually angelic expression. “Wait, you know what? I think it’s altered to make Morrigan look taller than she is!”

As the unit banded together over Jack’s ornament, Morrigan fumed. They were having so much fun before! For once, they could all bond together in Morrigan’s favorite place, laughing and sharing stories. Then they all had to ruin it by making fun of her height. Why was she always the butt of the joke? The one who ruined the weather, the Knackless One, the short one. It always felt like people were taking things that were out of her control and turning it into some sort of game for their amusement.

But Morrigan knew that Jack and the unit had no ill intentions. They were her brothers and sisters, even—no, especially—Jack. And being siblings means that you tease each other, and that sometimes you have to just accept that teasing. It was part of the sibling code. Oh well, Morrigan thought. As long as it doesn’t get any worse.

Needless to say, it got worse. After the group had run upstairs to hang the ornaments on Thaddea’s tree, Morrigan led them into a small dining room behind the kitchens, where the cooks and other staff often ate lunch. Morrigan had called in every favor she had to get Chef Honeycutt to bake a variety of extravagant treats for the unit. Each unit member seemed to have their own specific preferences to fulfill, and she was still a bit angry about Francis’ “fry chef” comments during their Loyalty Trial. Sure, he was under considerable pressure at the time and he didn’t know the Deucalion well, but Morrigan had been waiting for a moment to prove Chef Honeycutt’s worth to her favorite culinary snob.

Chef Honeycutt had certainly delivered. The table was stacked with all kinds of pastries and candies of every shape, size and flavor Morrigan could imagine. Well, except for a Grand Caledonian Coronation Crest. When Morrigan suggested it the other day, Chef Honeycutt had nearly thrown a spatula at her. Regardless, the table was perfectly set, and Morrigan watched with pride as the unit fawned over the sweets. To her delight, even Francis enjoyed it, inspecting every item with an appreciative nod before wandering off to ask Chef Honeycutt about her “whisking strategies”, a scone in his hand.

Hawthorne whooped for joy when he saw the table. “Chocolate-frosted caramel-filled cupcakes? Don’t mind if I do!”

“Alright Hawthorne, just don’t eat all of them or I won’t help you with your Dragontongue anymore,” Mahir laughed, taking a bite of a decadent-looking cannoli. “We don’t want a repeat of Hallowmas, do we?”

Thaddea groaned as she grabbed a handful of gingerbread men. “You were practically delirious for the rest of the week!”

“I still don’t know how you managed that,” Anah stared down at her brownie as if it would give her the answers. “It was terrible. We had to cover for you the whole week.”

“I still think it was a ploy to get us to do his What’s That Taste homework.” Morrigan laughed. She went to grab one of Hawthorne’s favorite cupcakes, but before she could, a hand reached out and picked the tray of cupcakes up and over her head.

“Sorry Morrigan,” Jack teased, still holding the tray out of her reach. “Dessert is for tall people,”

Morrigan scoffed and reached for a chocolate chip scone, but just as her fingers grazed one, that tray, too, was snatched out of her reach. Morrigan looked up to see Hawthorne’s mischievous grin. Morrigan fumed. Oh no you don’t! Her fingers twitched with the urge to call wunder, an intense and sudden need to retaliate. She could feel the small flame within her chest growing, snaking steadily up her throat with a taste like ash and anger. She could do it. She could do it so easily. Just a simple hum of the first few lines, a light breath of Inferno just so, and she could burn them without leaving a mark. It wouldn’t hurt much, just a little prick of flames to show them what’s what. Morrigan could do incredible things with Inferno these days. It would be so easy.

Morrigan was broken out of her trance-like state by a strange sound. It was the ghostly hum of a tune she knew by heart, just quiet enough to make her question if it was really there. The familiar notes wrapped around her head as she struggled to recognize the sound. The humming was coming from someone nearby. It was coming from her.

Quickly, Morrigan turned her Nocturne song into a spluttering cough, hoping that it had been too quiet for anyone to hear, and silently willing the wunder she had gathered to disperse.

“Please,” she grumbled, and reached for a different pastry, “I’m not that much shorter than you guys,” Morrigan couldn’t believe what she had almost done. She had nearly used her knack on Hawthorne, her best friend, and Jack, who was practically her cousin.

Those pastries that she reached for, too, were lifted into the air. Mahir grinned. “I mean, you are really short,”

“Yeah,” Cadence grabbed the tray of gingerbread men near Morrigan and lifted it as high as she could. “You really are.”

Morrigan watched as, one by one, all of the members of Unit 919 grabbed the desserts and held them out of her reach, laughing. Even Francis, Arch, and Anah were going along with it, caught up in the joke. Morrigan swiped at Hawthorne’s plate, but he just laughed at her and raised it higher. Morrigan tried again with Thaddea, but she did the same. Soon, Morrigan found herself running between her unitmates, desperately reaching for any dessert that came near. Each time she failed, everyone would laugh harder, and hold their sweets even higher. Tears burned behind her eyes as she got more and more desperate. Their laughs felt like they were burrowing into her head, clawing at her brain. She just wanted them to stop, just wanted to prove something to them.

After a while, they started to drop their guard, falling into their usual patterns. Morrigan nearly caught a cupcake as Hawthorne started betting with Cadence about how many he could eat in one sitting, and she almost grabbed a croissant when Thaddea threatened to start a fistfight with Mahir, who had bumped into her. Morrigan finally managed to grab a biscuit plate from Francis while he was inspecting them, muttering jealousy about how evenly they were baked. Thank the Divine Thing for culinary snobs, Morrigan thought gleefully as she paraded the plate around in triumph.

“I don’t think so,” Cadence laughed as she easily took the plate out of Morrigan’s hands. She smirked and turned to look back at the biscuits, which had suddenly disappeared from her hand.

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Thaddea held up the biscuits like a newly won trophy. “Well what about me? Maybe they’re my biscuits,”

“Hey!” Cadence shouted, reaching up for the plate of biscuits. Thaddea was just a couple inches taller than her, so they ended up just out of her reach.

“You mean these?” Hawthorne crowed, swiping the biscuits for himself. “I think they’re mine,”

“It seems to me that they’re mine,” Mahir grinned as he took them from Hawthorne.

“Think again,” Jack snatched the cookies from Mahir and held them as high as he could. “That is, unless any of you can grow a few inches in the next several seconds,” Being the oldest by a year or two, Jack still had an extra bit of height over everyone.

His words swirled in Morrigan’s brain, stirring up fragments of an idea. With a satisfying click, the idea formed, and Morrigan knew just what to do.

“Hey, give that back!” Hawthorne wailed, walking on tiptoe to try and reach the plate.

Mahir shrugged. “Jack won it fair and square,”

“If you say so,” Thaddea muttered, crossing her arms.

“Your arms are just too long,” Hawthorne argued. “That’s cheating,”

“Well it doesn’t matter, because I have the biscuits, and you’re all short,” Jack replied with a smirk. He looked up proudly to admire his reward, but what he saw made his smirk slip right off of his face. Unit 919 followed Jack’s gaze to the plate of biscuits, which was slowly lifting out of his hands, pulled by an invisible force. The plate glided up and weaved its way through the unit, floating like a leaf on the wind. It was slow enough that any one of them could have grabbed it, but everyone was too frozen in shock to touch the plate. After making their way through the unit, the biscuits landed delicately in Morrigan’s hand, where she leaned against the doorway.

Morrigan examined the plate with a smug look as she struggled to supress a giddy smile. “Well it seems to me that I have the biscuits, but I agree, you’re all short,”

Jack and the unit stared at her, dumbfounded, until a slow clap rang out. Morrigan looked back and saw Cadence, who gave her a reassuring wink. Hawthorne started cheering. Then Mahir joined in, then Anah, Arch, Thaddea, Francis, Lam, and finally Jack, who rolled his eye, but clapped the hardest.

“All right, all right,” Morrigan held up her free hand to quiet them. “But seriously, your jokes got way out of hand. I can deal with one short joke here or there, but please tone it down a little? Jokes aren’t good when they come at the expense of someone else’s fun, okay everyone?”

“Okay,” they all chorused guiltily.

Morrigan smiled and stepped out of the doorway. “Now that that’s settled, I wouldn’t want to keep us from any more fun, would I? Come on, I got Jupiter to let me book the Theater Room. Bring some treats and we can all watch a movie, okay guys?” Jack and the unit nodded, their smiles returning.

Hawthorne whooped as he grabbed handfuls of candy and ran out the door, followed by the rest of Unit 919, all with their own desserts stacked in their hands. Morrigan went to follow, until she saw Jack hanging back, shuffling his feet.

“Hey,” Morrigan said simply, walking up to stand beside Jack. “Are you gonna come?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack shook his head, not looking Morrigan in the eye. “I should have known that I stepped too far. In the moment, I didn’t care how much I hurt you. It’s just that I wanted the unit to like me so much. They mean everything to you, and I know that they’re going to be coming over more often now, so I wanted us to get along. I didn’t want to be some antisocial drag who they deal with just because they have to.”

“You aren’t always an antisocial drag?” Morrigan asked with mock surprise.

Jack shoved her lightly. “You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s not an excuse for what I did. I just thought you deserved an explanation,”

Morrigan shoved Jack back. “Well you’re an idiot if you think I’m not going to forgive you, because you are completely forgiven. I know how much you value boundaries, and I understand feeling like you need to make friends, no matter the cost. Luckily, true friends like you for who you are, like the unit likes you.”

“Do they really?” hope and disbelief swirled in Jack’s eyes.

Morrigan snorted. “Of course they do, Jack! Don’t you see how you and Mahir get along? Or how Hawthorne is practically bowing to your throne of pranks? I know for fact that Arch is absolutely dying to share some cool sheet music he found with you.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely!” Morrigan grinned. “And I know that they like you without laughing at someone else’s expense, so come on, let’s go watch that movie,” Morrigan shoved Jack towards the door, and he scoffed at her, but Morrigan could see the happy glint in his eye.

On their way out, the two passed Lam, who was muttering to herself in the hallway as she stared off into space.

“Hey, Lam,” Morrigan called as she walked by.

“Hey, Lam,” Jack repeated with a smile.

Lam didn’t seem to notice, instead drifting back into the room to grab a box of chocolates before following the sounds of Morrigan and Jack’s receding footsteps. As usual, she had a faraway look in her eyes, but if anyone had seen her up close, they would have noticed a mischievous little smile creep across her mouth as she bit into a chocolate. And if that person had been there, they would have heard Lam’s quiet giggle to herself. But Lam was alone, so no one but her realized that she was a full inch shorter than Morrigan.

. . .

No beta we die like Onstald

Thank you for having the patience to read my fic, I know it’s long, it kind of got out of hand in length, but what can you do?

Originally, this was supposed to be a LOT more angsty and the unit was going to pester Jack about using his powers and he’d get overwhelmed, and Jack would start picking on Morrigan as a sort of diversion along with his desire to please them in this fic. But was a little too angsty for me, and I wanted more of the unit and Jack bonding, so I made the fic more unit-centered. (Though I might decide to torture Jack later, who knows)

P.S. if you find a mistake please don’t be afraid to tell me! I love any and all feedback (as long as it’s polite and constructive!) and I would rather give you the best fic that I can than spare my feelings on something like a missing word or two.

@nevermoorcentral who organized this whole thing, and @lilmerh, who made some absolutely amazing fanart for my fic! Thank you to both of you and everyone who contributed to this amazing event!

For the tag list for my fics, it’s quite old so please tell me if you would like to be added or removed!

@goffikkgurl666 @razzmooncake @okay-hamlet @queen-fenestra @cadence-blackburn-for-queen

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