Over a year ago, on Christmas, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus's lives changed for the better when they adopted their children, Oliver and Abigail. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli made many changes to the penthouse to make it more child-friendly. They cleaned up their room of any sex toys along with preparing rooms for their children. They kept all the sex stuff in boxes and hidden just until Abigail and Oliver were older. Fizzarolli even taught Asmodeus sign language to help communicate with Oliver.

The morning of Christmas Day began with the scent of... something burning. Fizzarolli stood in the kitchen, surrounded by chaos. Flour dusted the counter, a whisk dangled precariously from his mechanical hand, and a pan of something black and smoking sat on the stove.

"Okay, okay, stay calm," Fizz muttered to himself, flipping through a cookbook. "Pancakes can't be that hard, right? A little mix here, a little egg there..." He cracked an egg, only for most of the shell to fall into the bowl. "Ugh, stupid shell!"

From the doorway, Asmodeus leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his glowing eyes amused. "Fizz, what in Hell are you doing?"

"Cooking breakfast for the kids," Fizz said, not turning around as he tried to flip a pancake. The batter stuck to the pan and splattered everywhere. "I want it to be special!"

Asmodeus chuckled, walking into the kitchen. "Fizz, I love you, but you can't cook to save your life. Remember the 'lava soup' incident?"

"That was one time!" Fizz protested, pointing a mechanical finger at him.

Asmodeus placed a gentle hand on Fizz's shoulder, guiding him away from the stove. "How about you let me handle this, huh? You can supervise with that dazzling personality of yours."

Fizz sighed but stepped aside, muttering, "Fine. But I get to decorate the pancakes."

Asmodeus got to work, whipping up a batter in record time while Fizz entertained himself by trying to juggle eggs which ended with one splattering on the floor. By the time the kids came stumbling into the kitchen, still in their pajamas, the table was set with golden stacks of pancakes, bowls of fruit, and freshly brewed coffee for the adults.

Abigail gasped. "Wow! This looks amazing!"

Oliver signed enthusiastically, "So many pancakes!"

Fizz beamed and gestured toward the table. "Yeah, but wait until you see what I've got!" He pulled out a bottle of edible glitter and colorful sprinkles, shaking them over the pancakes. "Ta-da! Clown-style breakfast!"

Oliver laughed, signing, "So cool!" Abigail rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her grin.

As they sat down to eat, Fizz couldn't resist a theatrical flourish. "Well, kids, your old man may not be a five-star chef, but he sure knows how to make breakfast fun!"

Asmodeus chuckled, leaning over to kiss Fizz's cheek. "And luckily, this old man knows how to cook, so we balance each other out."

Fizz smirked. "Yeah, yeah, you're the chef, I'm the clown. Together, we're unstoppable."

The family dug into their breakfast, laughter filling the penthouse as Fizz regaled them with stories of his old circus days. It was messy, chaotic, and perfect just like their family. After breakfast, Abigail and Oliver ran to the tree where the presents were. Fizzarolli and Asmodeus watched their kids tear into a pile of carefully wrapped presents under the grand Christmas tree. Abigail squealed with delight as she unwrapped a set of sparkling pens and journals. "These are perfect!" she exclaimed, hugging Fizzarolli tightly. "I can start my new diary!"

Oliver, meanwhile, was methodical in his unwrapping, carefully peeling the paper off a box that revealed a clown-themed toolkit, complete with juggling balls, face paints, and a beginner's guide to balloon animals. His eyes widened with excitement, and he immediately signed, "Thank you! I want to be just like you, Fizz!"

Fizzarolli's heart swelled. "You wanna be a clown, huh, kiddo?" he asked, crouching to Oliver's level. "Well, you've got big shoes to fill, and I mean literally big shoes!" he teased, holding up one of his exaggerated clown shoes. Oliver giggled silently and clapped his hands.

The day quickly turned into an impromptu clown training session. Fizzarolli and Oliver set up a small "stage" in the living room, complete with makeshift curtains and a spotlight courtesy of Asmodeus's glowing aura. Fizz showed Oliver how to spin a unicycle wheel, tie a simple balloon dog, and even juggle a few colorful beanbags. Abigail, ever the supportive older sister, cheered from the sidelines, occasionally snapping pictures on her new polaroid camera.

"Remember, Ollie," Fizzarolli said, balancing on one hand with theatrical flair, "the secret to being a great clown is not just tricks, it's heart! You've gotta make people laugh and feel good. Like this!" He pretended to wobble, falling flat on his face with a loud thud. Oliver laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

Later, Asmodeus joined in, using his towering height to twist balloons into shapes that Oliver and Abigail requested. "What's this one?" he rumbled playfully, holding up a questionably shaped creation. Abigail snorted. "I think it's supposed to be a dog, but it looks more like... a lopsided hot dog."

By evening, the family sat down for a Christmas dinner Fizz and Asmodeus had prepared together—well, mostly Asmodeus, with Fizz adding his "clowny flair" by garnishing the plates with edible glitter. Afterward, they all snuggled up on the couch, watching a classic cartoon with subtitles for Oliver.

As the kids drifted off to sleep, Abigail resting her head against Asmodeus's arm and Oliver cuddling a balloon animal, Fizzarolli leaned into Asmodeus. "Can you believe this, Ozzie?" he whispered, his voice soft with awe.

"No," Asmodeus admitted, his deep voice uncharacteristically tender. "I never thought we'd have this. But they're ours, and it's perfect."

Fizz smiled, his mechanical arms carefully tucking a blanket around Oliver. "Who knew Christmas could feel this good?"