Archive of Our Own

Heeseung knows that he should be happy. The twinkling lights that adorn his neighbors houses across the street shine like little beacons, reminders that this is supposed to be a joyful holiday, a season of lights and hope and good things. And for all intents and purposes, things are good. His son is standing on the porch, bundled up in three layers with a scarf that practically covers his whole face, holding a string of lights and studiously inspecting them to see if there are any that are broken. He is blessed, but still melancholy sits deep in the pit of his stomach.

His divorce is only six months old, and even though the separation had been longer, nearly three years, it still stings like a fresh slap. Heeseung never thought of himself as a romantic, but when he’d asked his ex-wife to marry him nearly a decade ago, he’d thought it was going to be forever. Turns out forever for him only lasted as long as knocking her up…that wasn’t fair. It lasted a bit longer, long enough for them to get caught up in the joy of holding a newborn. But as soon as Riki got colicky, crying through the night, it became very clear that parenthood wasn’t something they were actually on the same page for. 

First she got distant. Then she started taking on more projects that required travelling. And then she stopped coming home entirely. But still, all of that hurt less than her not even fighting for partial custody of Riki when they filed for divorce, instead plainly saying: “you’re better for him than I am. This just isn’t for me.” 

So Heeseung has full custody of Riki now, and has only stuttering and pathetic responses to Riki’s questions of why he doesn’t see his mother anymore. It’s been six months, but Heeseung is still bitter. Last year they had pretended for the sake of the holidays, stiffly moving around each other in an intricate dance for Riki’s sake, and now Heeseung is dancing it alone and feeling like he’s fumbling everything. 

“Daddy,” Riki says. “You’ve got an angry face. Are the lights broke?”

Guilt hits Heeseung hard and fast. He needs to get over this, and fast. He’s quickly learned that kids are insanely perceptive, and his son seems to have a sixth sense sometimes, able to read Heeseung’s moods so well that it gets downright scary. 

“No,” he says, forcing himself to smile. “They’re not broke. You did a really good job checking all of them.”

Riki’s smile is blinding even with the gap where his two front teeth used to be. Heeseung feels like the Grinch, his heart growing three sizes at the sight of Riki’s smile. He pushes down his miserable bitterness and focuses on making this the best Christmas for Riki. 

“Can you hold the ladder for me so that I can put the lights up?”

“Aye-aye!” Riki shouts, holding onto the ladder. In truth, if the ladder were to move Riki wouldn’t be much help, but Heeseung can see how much he wants to participate. His tongue sticks out in concentration as he focuses on the ladder staying in place. Heeseung wraps the lights over his shoulder and climbs the ladder, carefully stringing them along the nails he’d put up earlier. 

It takes two hours to get the lights up, between them having to move the ladder, the lights falling down because Heeseung didn’t put the nails in far enough, and them having to run inside to warm their hands on far too many mugs of hot chocolate. But, when they finally get them all up just in time for the sky to start turning inky, they stand on the sidewalk and regard the sparkling blue and white lights that look like dripping icicles. Riki hugs Heeseung’s leg tightly and refuses to go inside until his nose gets too runny for him to keep sniffling the snot back up, tracks dripping down his chin and into his scarf. 

Heeseung gives him a third cup of hot cocoa even though he knows it means that Riki will be up far too late, too weak for the wondrous look in his son’s eyes as they sit by the window and watch as the neighborhood lights up. Heeseung pets Riki’s soft hair and watches him watch the neighborhood, trying not to think about how all of this was so much easier when he wasn’t on his own. 

One thing that quickly becomes apparent is that Heeseung’s house lacks a Christmas tree. The lights are hung and he bought stockings and little light-up houses that Riki loves to play with, but the corner space that Heeseung cleared in his living room is still bare. His wife had a tree that they used every year — a giant plastic thing that had frosted tips so that it always looked like it had been snowed on. She had taken the tree as well as her decorative ornaments, and Heeseung simply hadn’t thought about the fact that her being gone meant that half of the items he was used to having were also gone.

“Daddy,” Riki says, pushing a Hotwheels fire truck towards a porcelain house that he’s pretending is on fire, “can we have a real tree this year?”

Heeseung looks up from where he’s searching “Christmas Activities for Kids” on his laptop while simultaneously frantically checking the oven because he swears he smells the cookies they put in five minutes ago burning. 

“A real tree?”

“Sunoo has a real tree every year and it makes his house smell really nice,” Riki mumbles, suddenly finding an intense interest in the wheels of his car. Heeseung has a feeling that Riki cares less about the smell of the tree and more about having the same things that Sunoo has, but he keeps that to himself. 

“Sure,” Heeseung says, switching his search to “Christmas Tree Farm For Kids.” Riki bounds up next to him and in his excitement knocks his head against Heeseung’s chin. Heeseung’s mouth snaps shut right on his bottom lip and immediately his mouth fills with the tangy, copper taste of his own blood. Riki panics, whining, little fingers reaching up to pat at Heeseung’s face while he cries out apologies. Heeseung shushes him and pulls Riki into his lap.

“Shh, Riks,” Heeseung says. He almost kisses the top of Riki’s head, but changes his mind when he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and realizes he’s still bleeding. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It was an accident.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Riki keeps crying, his breath coming in sharp, wet, little gasps. “Please don’t be mad. Don’t go away.”

Heeseung’s heart breaks. He hugs Riki even closer and buries his face against Riki’s shoulder, eyes stinging as he tries to hold back his own tears. He knows that it’s inevitable for Riki to blame himself for the divorce, that he will maintain in his heart that it’s his fault his mother wants nothing to do with him. And what’s worse is that he isn’t entirely wrong, and there’s nothing that Heeseung can do to change that fact, nothing he can offer that will change the reality that she didn’t want either of them in her life. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Heeseung says when he finally gets a grip on himself and he knows his voice won’t wobble. He straightens up and cups Riki’s cheek in his palm so that his son has to look at him with his wide, watery eyes. Heeseung offers a small smile. “Besides, who else but me is going to help you eat all these cookies we made?”

Riki offers a wobbly smile in return. “I can eat them all myself. I’m big now.”

Heeseung laughs, startled and wavering, and he presses a wet kiss to Riki’s pudgy cheek.

“You’re still my baby, Riki,” he says. “And that means one cookie for dessert.”

“No fair,” Riki whines, but he lets Heeseung pick him up and carry him into the kitchen so they can pull the only slightly burnt cookies from the oven. Riki clings to him as Heeseung sets them on the cooling rack, and refuses to be put down even as Heeseung goes about making their dinner.

He helps in his own way, dumping in ingredients to the pot of soup that Heeseung has already prepped and occasionally helping to stir, but mostly he clings to Heeseung’s neck, pressing his nose against the side of Heeseung’s throat like he needs to feel Heeseung’s heartbeat and breath so that he knows he is still there, solid.

Heeseung places an ice cube in Riki’s soup to cool it down, and Riki proudly puts away two helpings.

Heeseung gives him two cookies, claiming it’s a reward for eating so well and not because he’s whipped for his child. The grin Riki shoots at him implies that he knows better.

The Christmas tree farm that Heeseung chooses is only twenty minutes away, but that’s a far enough car ride for Riki to feel like he’s on an adventure. He keeps asking Heeseung what city they’re in, not believing him when he says it’s the same one, just a little bit farther away.

“But look!” Riki says, spinning in a circle. There’s a small layer of snow on the ground that crunches under Riki’s snow boots. (Once again, he is overdressed for the weather, his puffed winter coat practically devouring his small frame. Heeseung hasn’t quite grown out of the habit of swaddling his son even though he’s six years old.) “This is totally different from our yard!”

“Totally” is a new word that Riki has picked up, probably from Sunoo. He uses it as often as possible.

“Of course it looks different,” Heeseung says. “This is a special farm where they grow Christmas trees. Our yard is just our yard.”

“Can we grow Christmas trees?”

“Uh, probably not.” Heeseung thinks of his sad rhododendrons that are supposedly supposed to be able to just thrive on their own (fun fact: they don’t). “Isn’t coming here more fun anyway?”

“I guess,” Riki says, though his wide grin betrays the excitement he actually feels. He immediately takes off to run through each row of trees, pointing out ones that are far too big for their house as his favorites. Heeseung finally persuades him to consider a more modest tree; his original plan of “imagine what would happen if we got a tree that was too big and it went through the ceiling, or had to bend in half” backfired when Riki exclaimed how “totally awesome” that would be. 

“Pick out a tree?” A voice says, making Heeseung jump. The guy behind him laughs, a lilting, high-pitched thing that makes Heeseung’s stomach do weird things — like flip flop somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. The guy is pretty; his cheeks are flushed and his dark hair is cut in a style that reminds Heeseung of the 90’s boy heartthrobs that he had posters of on his walls as a kid. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and his plush bottom lip is shiny like he keeps licking his lips. Heeseung clearly forgets how to speak for a moment because Riki tugs on his coat.

“We like this one,” he says, saving Heeseung from his embarrassment and pointing at the tree they agreed on. The guy gives a bright smile and a thumbs up. Heeseung feels like his brain melts. 

“That’s a great choice,” the guy says. “How about me and your dad cut it down for you?”

Shit. Heeseung forgot about this part. He’s pretty handy, but he’s never handled a tool bigger than a hammer and definitely not something with sharp edges like a saw. He feels his cheeks flush at the realization of his own un-manliness. Riki tugs his coat again. 

“Can I help cut it down?”

“Uh,” Heeseung says, real eloquent. He’s absolutely being an excellent father in front of this cute Tree Farm Guy. The cute guy raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“If your dad doesn’t mind, you can help me with the first part.”

“Is it safe?” Heeseung asks. “I mean, it’s a saw. He’s only six.”

Tree Farm Guy smiles. “You can help him if you want. I have a double ended saw, so you guys can take one side and I’ll take the other? After the initial cut though, I’ll ask you guys to step out of the way.”

Heeseung agrees, and he and Riki situate themselves on one side of the tree while the Cute Guy positions himself on the other side. Heeseung makes sure Riki’s hands stay on the plastic handle while his hands bracket both of Riki’s. Even as they securely move the saw back and forth safely, Heeseung still has panicked thoughts about Riki accidentally slicing his fingers off, ruining Christmas even more for him. It doesn’t happen, of course. Tree Farm Guy only lets them help saw for about a minute before he sends them away, but Heeseung feels so bad making the guy saw by himself that he sets Riki down in the middle of the path and then goes back to help him with the tree. 

Riki cheers when the tree finally falls with a satisfying crack, his arms raised as high above his head as he can get them with the fluffy padding of his coat. He runs around in tight little circles like he does when he makes a goal during playground soccer matches, shouting at the top of his lungs about their tree. Heeseung smiles at the cute Tree Farm Guy, and he smiles back. Heeseung’s stomach does the weird flippy thing again. 

“So,” Tree Farm Guy says as he wraps their tree in twine and starts to drag it onto a toboggan. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Heeseung hasn’t been to a tree farm where the workers are basically impromptu Santa Clauses without beards, but, then again, he hasn’t been to a tree farm, so maybe they’re all like this. Riki clutches Heeseung’s hand, twisting himself under Heeseung’s arm and burying half of his face against Heeseung’s coat. Heeseung is pretty sure Riki is using it as an excuse to wipe his nose on his coat rather than from shyness, but Heeseung is so used to snot all over his clothing at this point that he doesn’t even try to stop him from doing it.

“A new mommy,” Riki finally mumbles, and the answer makes Heeseung’s heart drop out of his ass and shatter on the pine needle-laden ground. From the shocked and slightly panicked look on the poor tree farmer’s face, his heart is doing the same thing. (Jake, Heeseung realizes he has nametag with big bubble letters and little star stickers around it. Jake looks like he wishes he’d never asked Riki anything.)

“Oh,” Jake says, looking between Riki and Heeseung with wide, worried eyes. “Um. Wow, kid. I’m…I’m sure Santa will bring you something to make you happy. Especially with a pretty tree like this.”

Riki shrugs. He looks up at Heeseung, nose unsurprisingly snot-free, then looks back at Jake. He smiles, showing off the big gap where he lost his two front teeth only two weeks before. Heeseung’s stomach flips. He knows that grin. It’s the same grin that Riki gets when he knows he can play someone for extra dessert, or to get picked up when he’s feeling too lazy to walk.

“Can you come home with us?” Riki asks, abandoning Heeseung and walking over to Jake. “You’re pretty and daddy likes pretty people.” 

Jake’s eyes get impossibly wider. His mouth drops open. Heeseung can’t decide whether he wants to drop to the ground and play dead or throw Riki over his shoulder and make a break for it. He opens his mouth to say something, something like I’m sorry my kid is such a weirdo and maybe a pervert, I don’t know where he gets it from, ha-ha, but Jake beats him to it.

“Um, I don’t know about that. But maybe if your dad likes hot chocolate I can treat you both after we get this up on your car?”

“Yay!” Riki cheers, punching his fists in the air. “Daddy loves hot chocolate.”

“You still need to ask Daddy if it’s okay to have any,” Heeseung says, trying to sound authoritative, or at least try to get some of his dignity back. Both Riki and Jake look at him with puppy-dog eyes, though, and his will immediately waivers.

“Please?” Riki says, sticking his bottom lip out in a deep pout that isn’t even necessary. Heeseung sighs dramatically.

“One hot cocoa,” he says, “if you help me pull the toboggan.”

Riki doesn’t need any more prompting. He places his tiny fists on one side of the toboggan and heaves with a grunt that makes Heeseung almost collapse in a fit of giggles. (He manages to swallow them, but he catches Jake biting his lip against laughter too. Their eyes meet, and Heeseung swears that Jake’s eyes sparkle. He shakes his head; he’s too old to be thinking like this).

Riki quickly tires out, and with his boots slip-sliding along the icy ground Heeseung allows him to ride on the sled itself, with Jake holding onto one of his mittened hands to help him keep balanced. Heeseung doesn’t want to think about what a family picture they make — after all, helping people out is Jake’s job — but he can’t help it. There’s something so blissful about watching Jake with Riki, something that eases the tightness that has been gathering in Heeseung’s chest. It’s probably just because he’s been resentful about his status as a single parent and this is a reprieve, but when Jake looks at him with his wide smile and gentle eyes, Heeseung feels like it’s more.

Heeseung helps Jake to heave the Christmas tree onto the roof of his car while Riki dances off to the side, making up moves to go with his new song about Christmas and his tree and the hot cocoa he’s about to drink. 

“You’re kid’s a performer,” Jake says as secures the tree to Heeseung’s car. Heeseung nods.

“Yeah, he loves attention.”

“He’s really good though. Does he get lessons?”

Heeseung shrugs. He can feel a blush starting to creep along his cheeks. “Uh, sometimes. Mostly he just dances with me or his uncles. Or he copies music videos. He really loves Shinee right now.”

Jake stares at him for a moment and Heeseung fidgets in place, unable to decipher the look on his face.

“You dance?” Jake asks, and it takes Heeseung a moment to process the question because it is absolutely not what he was expecting. 

“Sort of. Used to. I tried out the whole ‘I want to be a performer’ thing, so.”

“What happened?”

Heeseung thinks back to his teenage self. He thinks about the endless auditions into arts schools that denied him, thinks about the hours he put into practicing only to freeze up on stage, thinks about the way he stuttered through his introductions and cowered away from anyone who recognized him. 

“I was too shy,” he admits. “It’s a lot for a young person to have to go through, that kind of invasion of your whole self. I wasn’t ready for it.”

Jake nods. He secures a knot and then pulls on a rope to test it. He hums his satisfaction and hops down from Heeseung’s car, brushing the snow and pine needles from his orange puffy jacket.

“That’s fair. I was going to try it out too. Clearly it didn’t work out for me either.”

“What happened with you?”

Jake smiles widely. “I was better at sports. Between diving into something that I could fail at that was far from home and sticking with something I was good at closer to my family…I chose the safer option.”

He shrugs. He’s still smiling, but there’s something else there, a slight droop to the corner of his lips maybe, or a cloudiness over his eyes.

“Do you regret it?”

Jake’s eyes widen, then he laughs, sharp and sudden.

“Wow, that’s really, um…that’s like a third date sort of question.”

Heeseung’s cheeks burn. “I’m sorry, you obviously don’t have to answer, I didn’t mean to—“

“Nah, nah it’s all good.” Jake shrugs with another laugh. “I do sometimes? I think that’s inevitable, to look back on choices and wonder if they were the right ones. But also…life is too short to get caught up in the past. What happened happened, and I gotta make the most out of what’s happening right now, you know?”

Jake smiles at him, soft and sort of shy, and Heeseung feels a warmth start to spread from the center of his chest all the way down to his toes. He wants to say something; he’s the dad here and is supposed to be full of wisdom or whatever, but all he can manage to do is open and close his mouth like a fish out of water while he watches Jake’s smile get wider and wider. He doesn’t even realize that Riki has stopped singing until he tugs on his coat.

“Daddy, can we have hot chocolate now?”

Heeseung’s cheeks get hot and he knows that he’s blushing all the way up to his ears. Riki stares up at him with a pleading expression that makes it clear he cares more about a hot, sweet drink than his father’s existential dread. Which…is a good thing, actually. Heeseung never wants to worry his son if he can help it. 

“If Jake says it’s alright, then yes, we can have hot chocolate now.”

Riki gives Heeseung a sly smile that is far too adult for his little kid face. It’s the equivalent of Jongseong wiggling his eyebrows at Heeseung anytime they have an encounter with someone that could remotely be considered Heeseung’s type. Heeseung thinks he needs to talk to his best friend about the sleazy expressions he’s teaching his kid.

“Are daddy and Jake good friends now?” Riki asks, and Heeseung has half a mind to (lovingly) swat the back of his head. Jake speaks first, however, digging Heeseung even deeper into Riki’s matchmaking schemes.

“I don’t mind being friends,” Jake says with a smile, then tilts his head to the large building with the log-cabin facade. “C’mon, hot chocolate is this way.”

The inside of the building is warm, and with all of the families there sipping on hot chocolate and buying various tree decorations and garlands, it feels even hotter. Heeseung quickly unzips Riki’s coat, seeing how he starts pulling at the collar of his jacket before he can start complaining about the heat. 

Heeseung swallows his disappointment at the fact that hot chocolate post tree-farming is simply a thing that is offered at this particular location, and not just something Jake offered because he wanted to spend more time with them. It’s a stupid thing to get upset about; Heeseung knows this — Jake is just doing his job and Heeseung is a little lonely and perhaps a bit desperate and clearly far too eager to get caught up in a romance that won’t happen in real life. 

Jake helps Riki make his cup of hot chocolate, eyeing Heeseung when Riki asks for extra whipped cream and marshmallows. Heeseung allows Jake to make a small white mountain of sugar on top of Riki’s hot chocolate; he can’t resist spoiling Riki, especially during the holidays, but Jake doesn’t seem to judge him for it. He makes another cup of hot chocolate with an even bigger pile of whipped cream and marshmallows. When he passes the cup to Heeseung, their fingers brush. 

Heeseung guides Riki to one of the few empty tables, holding both of their cups so that nothing spills. He’s surprised when Jake sits with them, sliding onto the small stool across from Riki with his own cup — though his is only filled halfway. Heeseung wonders how many cups of hot chocolate he’s already drunk throughout the day. 

“Mister Jake?” Riki says, laying the sweetness on thick. There’s a dollop of whipped cream on his nose. Heeseung wipes it off with his thumb.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Are you married?”

“Riki,” Heeseung says, ready to scold his son for asking too much personal information, but Jake laughs. 

“No,” he says. “I’m not married.”

Emboldened, Riki continues. “Are you spending Christmas with your family?”

“Riki.”

“I actually don’t have any plans for Christmas.” Jake shrugs with a small laugh, but it’s got a sad tinge at the edge. “My family is back in Australia, and a lot of my friends are married with kids now so…” he shrugs again. “No plans. Just me and my dog.”

“You have a dog?!” Riki launches himself to his feet, causing his hot cocoa to spill out over the table. Heeseung jumps up and pulls Riki away, managing to save his son’s clothes but getting the warm liquid all over his pants instead. Jake is quickly there with napkins, sopping up the mess on the table and almost reaching over to try to pat his pants as well before he realizes how that must look. Heeseung meets his eyes as his arm is outstretched near his crotch, both of their cheeks flushing a brilliant red.

“I, um, I can do it,” Heeseung says, taking the napkins from Jake and patting at his own pants. There is a stain on the thigh that he hopes will come out when he washes them, and he ignores the damp feeling as he reassures Riki that he can’t feel the wetness at all. They settle back down, Riki much more careful and quiet now that he’s made a mess. Maybe Jake notices the change of atmosphere, or maybe he’s just really excited to talk about his dog, but when he offers to show pictures of her Riki immediately perks up.

“This is Layla,” Jake says, swiping through pictures on his phone while Riki leans on the table, chubby cheeks perched in his palms as he watches with wide-eyed wonder. Heeseung peeks at the photos too. Jake’s dog is cute, a golden retriever that reminds Heeseung of Jake himself. 

“You should bring Layla to our house,” Riki declares. “For Christmas!”

Jake’s cheeks flush even redder, his blush from earlier having not gone down. It spreads across the bridge of his nose, and Heeseung swears that even his plump lips turn a deeper shade of pink. 

“Riki,” Heeseung says, though his mouth feels a little cottony. “You can’t just…I’m sure Jake has other plans.”

“I really don’t,” Jake says, then snaps his mouth shut. His eyes go wide. “I — I mean, not that I’m trying to overstep or invade your holidays.”

“You’re not,” Heeseung says, realizing too late how eager he sounds. Riki looks between them like a cat that just got the cream, and Heeseung feels a hot flush go all the way down his neck. 

“Oh,” Jake says. He smiles, a shy, tentative thing. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Heeseung says.

“Okay!” Riki shouts, pumping his fist in the air. 

Christmas Eve is depressingly grey and bitterly cold. There is no snow in the forecast and it’s so cold that Riki complains the entire time he is outside because his fingers hurt and his nose won’t stop running. Heeseung gives him a warm bubble bath, but Riki is antsy. He’s fussy and needy, declaring he’s a big boy but then demanding Heeseung carry him around. He wants to watch a movie, but then he wants to play cars, and then he wants to stare listlessly out of the window. Heeseung tries to boost his spirit while he cooks, tries to entice him with samples and the promise of helping daddy cut some vegetables, but Riki doesn’t budge. The dreaded pit of melancholy settles in Heeseung’s stomach again as he keeps peeking at his son, feeling like a complete failure that he isn’t able to make Riki happy on what’s supposed to be one of the most exciting night of the year – second maybe to Riki’s birthday.

Heseung is so lost in his own thoughts – and whether he’s made enough food for them – that he doesn’t hear the crunch of tires in the driveway as another car pulls up. He doesn’t even register that the barking of a dog is very close to his house. It isn’t until he hears Riki shout Jake’s name right before there’s a knock on his door that he remembers that Tree Farm Guy is joining them for Christmas.

Riki opens the door before Heeseung gets there, so when he steps out of the kitchen he's greeted with the sight of Riki on the ground clinging to a golden retriever that is happily licking his cheeks while Jake stands by the door, hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. He's dressed in jeans and a dark blue hoodie that is oversized and boasts the name of a sports team Heeseung has never heard of. His orange coat is folded over his arm.

"Hey," Heeseung says. The word is a singular syllable and it still sounds like he stutters over it. Jake looks up at him, face immediately brightening. 

"H-hi," Jake says, actually stuttering, and Heeseung's heart flip-flops in his chest. He stops in front of Jake, awkward for a moment, but then Jake holds his arms out and Heeseung gladly steps into the hug. 

Jake smells like artificial pumpkin and sweet vanilla and expensive aftershave. His cheek is soft where he presses it against Heeseung’s. Heeseung has to step away before his heart permanently lodges itself in his throat.

"I can't believe you agreed to spend Christmas with a random dad and his kid," Heeseung says, the depreciation coming out thicker than he intended. Jake shrugs.

"It helps that both the dad and the kid are cute," he says, and Heeseung feels his cheeks blaze.

"Are you– are you flirting with me?"

Jake's smile is somehow both coy and shy. He drags his socked toe in a small circle along the ground and shrugs. 

"Yeah. I guess I am. Is that okay?"

Is it? Heeseung wants it to be, but there's a clawing guilt in his stomach. His divorce is only six months old, isn't that too soon to be flirting with a guy – a guy! – who's clearly younger than him? Isn't this something that he should do after more time has passed, maybe when he's fifty?

But Riki looks so excited to have another person, and a dog, in the house, and the reality that Heeseung feels the same guilt when he’s wallowing in loneliness in self-pity. Maybe he will always feel bad about his failed marriage, feel bad about failing Riki because he didn't choose someone better to be with, or didn't put in enough effort, or just wasn't enough in general. Maybe Heeseung will always carry that insecurity with him, a deep rooted fear that at his core, he is simply unlovable.

"It's okay if it's not," Jake says softly, reaching out so that his fingers brush the inside of Heeseung's wrist. Heeseung wonders if he can feel the way his heart rate picks up at the contact. "I'm fine being here as a friend."

Heeseung shakes his head. "It's okay," he says. Fuck, how does this work? He feels rusty and out of practice. "I, um, I want to flirt with you too."

Jake's smile is radiant. Heeseung doesn't know if he is going to survive the night.

"Okay," Jake says. His smile turns mischievous. "I look forward to being flirted with."

Well, shit, now Heeseung has to figure out how to flirt, and fast.

“Daddy, daddy daddy!” Riki shouts, finally up off of the floor but still holding onto Layla. “Can we go play in the backyard?”

“I don’t know,” Heeseung says, remembering a couple of hours earlier when Riki was listless and whiny. It’s probably colder now than it was earlier, too. “It’s really cold, Riki. And dogs paws are sensitive.”

“Not to overstep,” Jake says, “but Layla’s got little booties.”

Riki’s jaw drops. “Your dog has shoes?”

“She does.”

Riki unleashes the puppy eyes and the full pout, which seems a bit like overkill. Heeseung hangs his head. He wordlessly gets Riki’s snow pants and coat. Riki shouts his delight, which gets Layla barking as well despite how much Jake tries to shush her. Soon Riki is bundled like a walking marshmallow and Layla has her shoes on, and Heeseung leaves the screen door open even though it’s freezing so he can hear Riki shouting outside. 

“I can go outside with them if you’re worried,” Jake says, already putting his orange coat back on. “That way you don’t freeze yourself out of your house.”

“You could,” Heeseung says, a little embarrassed at the pout that’s clear in his voice. “But it will be hard to flirt with you outside.”

Jake laughs. When he laughs his voice trills like he’s practicing his scales, going up and then settling on a low final ha. He also leans into Heeseung when he laughs, punching his arm slightly as he leans into his taller frame. 

“Flirt with me at dinner.”

“Jake,” Heeseung says as Jake takes his beat-up sneakers to the backdoor. He pauses and turns, head cocked to the side like a puppy. Heeseung flaps his arms helplessly. He feels completely lost. Sure, he and Jake texted a little bit, but nothing significant, nothing to prepare him for the way his heart and stomach are both trying to do somersaults. “I don’t…I don’t even know your last name or how old you are. And you’re about to go outside and play with my son and–”

Jake is back in front of him and he presses two fingers to Heeseung’s lips. Heeseung sputters, but then he gets embarrassed at the fact that he must have gotten spit on Jake’s fingers and he quiets completely. His skin is so hot that it feels like it’s going to melt off.

“Sim,” Jake says. “My name. And I’m older than you think. And I’m really, really happy to be here, Heeseung.”

“Oh,” Heeseung says, like an idiot, because he can’t think of anything else his mouth can do aside from maybe kiss Jake Sim’s pretty lips. Which he absolutely should not do. Jake’s lips quirk into a soft smile and he looks up at Heeseung through his lashes.

“Is it true that you think I’m pretty?” he asks, and it must be a trick question, it must be…something, because this isn’t how Heeseung’s life works. Riki’s shouting seems like it’s underwater, like Heeseung’s ears are suddenly filled with cotton. It takes too much effort to swallow.

“Yes,” he croaks.

Jake’s smile widens. He sways slightly, twisting his body and rocking his hips so that Heeseung doesn’t know where to look.

“Lucky me,” he murmurs. “Because I think you’re very handsome, and…” Jake trails off with his top teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The sight is so erotic that Heeseung doesn’t even notice Jake reaching for him until he’s tugging at the hem of his shirt, cold knuckles brushing against the warm soft of Heeseung’s stomach and making him jump.

“I’d like to get to know you better,” Jake finishes.

“Me too,” Heeseung says. He half expects Jake to push him against the wall and…he doesn’t actually know exactly. Kiss him, maybe? But Jake just releases Heeseung’s shirt with a bright smile and tilt of his head.

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

And he slips his shoes on and bounds out the door, closing it behind him. Heeseung watches through the window as Jake runs to Riki and how Riki holds his hands up to be lifted. Jake immediately catches on and tosses him into the air, Layla running around them both and yapping happily. The sight makes Heeseung’s chest burn, which is a lot considering he’s also trying to settle the fluttering that seems to have settled in his balls. He rubs warmth back into his hands – yeah, definitely stupid to leave the door open – and goes back to the kitchen. 

They don’t actually last very long outside, the frigid weather getting to them even with a hyperactive child and an equally hyperactive dog. Jake helps Riki get undressed and also helps to lift him so that he can wash his hands at the kitchen sink. They eat soup at the kitchen table and decorate sugar cookies (which results in more frosting ending up on Riki’s hands – and therefore in his mouth – than on the cookies), and then settle on the couch to watch holiday themed cartoons. 

It is during this time, with Riki cuddled between them and Jake’s head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder, that Heeseung learns some more about Jake through whispered conversation. Jake teaches high school physics and works at the tree farm because he always needs to be actively doing something (this prompts Heeseung to say "I can actively do you" in his first attempt at flirting, which makes Jake laugh so hard he chokes.)

Riki adjusts himself with a small whine, nuzzling further against Heeseung’s stomach and flinging his legs over Jake’s lap.

“What’s so funny?” he half-mumbles, half-whines. “It’s a serious part.”

“Nothing baby,” Heeseung says, patting Riki’s hair. Jake is stifling his giggles with a hand to his mouth, his other hand gently rubbing along Riki’s ankle. Riki makes another whiny sound and presses further against Heeseung’s stomach. The pressure is simultaneously nice – the warm solidness of Riki’s head almost acting like a hard hot-water bottle – but also painful. He gentles Riki’s head off of his stomach, then grabs him under the armpits so that he can lift him back up to sitting. Riki whines again and tries to hide his face in Heeseung’s neck.

“I think it’s time for all babies to go to bed,” Heeseung says softly, running his fingers down the knobs of Riki’s spine.

“‘M not a baby,” Riki mumbles. “And ’m not tired.”

“The sooner you go to bed, the sooner you’ll be able to wake up and see that it’s tomorrow,” Jake says, leaning heavily into Heeseung’s side as he speaks. He reaches out so that he can pat Riki’s hair. Heeseung feels Riki shift so that his pudgy cheek rests on Heeseung’s shoulder so that he can look at Jake.

“That’s what I did last night,” Jake continues, his voice soft and a little too heartfelt. “I was so excited to come over that I went to bed early so I could wake up faster.”

Heeseung wonders if Riki can feel the way his heart has started to pound in his chest.

“Did it work?”

“Mhm. Next thing I knew it was time for me to be here. I was so happy.”

Heeseung catches Jake’s gaze; it’s only one big, brown eye because the other one is hidden by Riki’s head, but it’s enough to see how sincere Jake is. Heeseung’s own eyes suddenly sting, and he has to look away and blink rapidly before he starts bawling and panics both of them. He maneuvers himself forward so that he can push himself up to standing with a low groan, patting Riki’s bottom as his son wraps his limbs around him. 

“You’re getting so big,” Heeseung says, ashamed that his voice is wet despite his best efforts to keep cool.

“I’m a big boy,” Riki mumbles. “But I’m ready for bed now.”

“Okay.” Heeseung turns slightly so that he can face Jake, who is still sitting on the couch. Jake looks up at him, face illuminated by the glow of the Christmas tree and the blue light of the television, and Heeseung gets the strangest feeling – not quite deja-vu, more like Jake is supposed to be there, like everything is aligning in the way it’s supposed to be.

“I, um, I’ll be right back,” Heeseung says, his voice a little thick and croaky.

“Are you sleeping over?” Riki asks, his voice a barely-there mumble. Heeseung’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. He’d expected Jake to be there in the morning to actually spend Christmas with them, but he hadn’t thought of the logistics, hadn’t thought of what it would mean if Jake stayed.

“Sure,” Jake says with a hesitant smile. “If your dad doesn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t.” Riki yawns. “His bed is really big.”

Heeseung whirls around and starts marching towards Riki’s bedroom before his face melts off from the heat of his embarrassment. Behind him he can hear Jake chuckle and the tinkling of the tags on Layla’s collar as she moves around the space. He doesn’t want to indulge in how nice that feels, to have someone else in the house, someone waiting for him. As much as he’s felt guilty over not doing enough for his son, there’s another part of him, a deeper part, that has craved the intimacy and love of someone being there for him as well.

He tucks Riki into his small bed, pulling the dinosaur blanket up to his chin. Riki blinks up at him with sleepy eyes; the rotating nightlight casts shadows and shapes of light across his face. It makes him look otherworldly, and Heeseung’s heart rises to his throat because sometimes – sometimes he looks at Riki and sees a vast world of possibilities opened up to him. Sometimes Heeseung looks at Riki and sees him growing up, sees him fall in love and experience heartbreak and sees him pass his high school exams and sees him go to college and sees him perform on a stage in front of millions of people and sees him get married and have kids and buy a house and grow old. Sometimes Heeseung blinks and swears he sees Riki’s whole life flash before his eyes, but when he blinks again it’s just a small boy with droopy eyelids looking up at him.

“I like Jake,” Riki says with the same confidence that he declares his love for his favorite plushies. “We should keep him.”

Heeseung can’t help his soft snort. He pats Riki’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “It doesn’t work that way, baby. Jake is a person, we can’t just keep him.”

“You can ask him to marry you.” 

“We barely know him, Riki.”

“He’s good eggs,” Riki says, folding his arms over the blankets and sticking his bottom lip out in a petulant pout. “I can tell.”

Heeseung doesn’t want to admit that he can tell, too, that whatever love or desire for companionship that Riki is clearly feeling, Heeseung also feels. He doesn’t want to get Riki’s hopes up; hell, he doesn’t want to get his own hopes up. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Heeseung says, the best thing that he can offer. Riki squints up at him, as if he’s trying to scrutinize whatever plan Heeseung has, but then he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks and Heeseung leans forward to kiss his forehead. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

Riki yawns again, but then he rolls onto his side and shuts his eyes. Heeseung kisses his cheek, pats his shoulder, and carefully closes the door behind him – making sure that it is left open just a crack. Then he pauses, trying to take deep breaths and get ahold of his racing heart.

It was easy to deal with Jake and the way that he makes Heeseung’s stomach flutter when Riki was there to pull the focus. Now that Riki is in bed, Heeseung is left to deal with just how much he has a crush on Jake – because that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s got a crush on a high school teacher who part-times at a tree farm, a guy with a beautiful smile and great laugh, a guy who wants to spend time with his kid.

But does he want to spend time with Heeseung? Jake is clearly devoted to Riki, motherly instincts coming out of him like he has no control over them, but Heeseung doesn’t know where they stand with each other, doesn’t know if Jake maybe has a crush on him, too.

He doesn’t want to get married again, not really. If Jake was willing to remain friends and keep coming over to hang out with Riki like Jay does, that would be enough. But Heeseung can’t help the selfish desire for more. 

Well, no matter what the future holds, he can’t stay waffling in the doorway of his son’s bedroom forever. He takes a breath to settle his nerves – it doesn’t work. When he walks back to the living room, Jake is curled up against one side of the couch with Layla next to him, her head in his lap. He absently pets her head while he scrolls through his phone, and for a moment Heeseung just watches and allows himself the wonder of what it would be like for this to just be…normal. A sight he could see all the time. But then Jake looks up and his calm expression turns panicky.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t ask if it was okay to have a dog on your furniture, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,”  Heeseung says, holding his hands out, but Jake pats Layla’s butt and she immediately jumps off the couch. “I, uh, really don’t mind.”

Jake looks at where Layla is walking in a circle and curling up into a ball near the t.v. stand, then looks back at Heeseung. A light blush starts to form over his nose.

“Well, if Layla’s next to me, then you can’t be so…” he trails off, one hand patting the space next to him like an invitation. Which Heeseung takes. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically from the way he practically bounces on the couch and Jake’s subsequent giggles.

They settle into each other, and then the silence settles around them. Heeseung becomes acutely aware of the sounds of his own breathing – is it always so noisy? – and the way his heart pounds in his ears. He jumps when Jake's hand brushes against his, and Jake laughs.

"Are you nervous?"

“Yes,” Heeseung admits, surprised by his own honesty. Jake laughs and twines their fingers together.

“Me too.”

Jake’s hand is warm and solid in his own, and their palms fit together like Jake’s hand was always meant to be in his. Heeseung feels that bubble of emotion rise up again, making his heart pound and his eyes go watery. 

“Would you like to help me eat the cookies that Riki set out for Santa?”

Jake’s eyes sparkle under the lights from the Christmas tree, and it makes him look angelic.

“Of course.”

They sit on the floor around the coffee table and munch on sugar cookies, comparing their designs like they’re children laying on their backs and staring up at the clouds, trying to decipher their shapes. Layla noses at Heeseung’s thigh like she knows that begging Jake for treats is a lost cause. Heeseung almost gives in, such a sucker for begging puppy eyes that he nearly gives her his cookie multiple times, catching himself at the last minute and making it feel like he’s torturing Layla even more. He tries to make it up to her with heat pats and tummy scratches.

“Hey,” Jake says, holding up a cookie. “It’s you.”

The icing drawing on top of the cookie looks like two blobs when Heeseung first looks at it. He squints, and slowly he can make out the shapes — a circle body, a circle head, big ears… It’s a mouse. Heeseung feels a blush burning along the tips of ears. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe defend his honor, but all he can manage is a stutter. Jake laughs and leans over, holding the cookie out. Heeseung opens his mouth automatically, and Jake laughs even harder as he shoves nearly the entire cookie into Heeseung’s mouth. 

Heeseung doesn’t know who falls into whom, doesn’t know if he leans too far forward or if Jake falls into him, but they end up tangled together on the ground, Heeseung trying desperately to chew and swallow the cookie as quickly as possible while Jake laughs into his neck. Jake’s lips are soft and his breath is warm and his leg is stuck between both of Heeseung’s and Heeseung wants to kiss him.

He nearly chokes on the bits of cookie crumbs that remain in his mouth. He hasn’t wanted to kiss anyone in years, but right now, rolling on the floor with Jake in his arms like they’re teenagers, he wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a long while. 

He sits up slightly, his knees bracketing Jake’s hips, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hands. His mouth feels dry, now, all moisture sucked out by the cookie and his own nervousness. Jake stares up at him, his hair haloed around his head and a shy smile on his face. He reaches up and runs his fingers through Heeseung’s hair.

“I…” Heeseung starts. His tongue feels like it’s sticking to the roof of his mouth. Shit, how does this work? “I didn’t mean…we don’t have to…”

“I like it,” Jake whispers. His cheeks are starting to flush a pretty pink and he keeps dragging his top teeth over his bottom lip, making it plump and shiny with spit. “Please don’t stop.”

So Heeseung stops thinking for a moment. He leans in and brushes his nose along Jake’s, then tilts his head so he can press their lips together. It’s chaste and soft; Jake’s lips are plush and he opens up easily, tongue hesitantly brushing against Heeseung’s own. It’s gentle. Sweet. And then molten heat spreads throughout Heeseung’s core and he wants more. 

Jake moans when Heeseung kisses him harder, this low vibration that seems to come from the center of his chest. He tangles his fingers in Heeseung’s hair and tugs, legs wrapping around Heeseung’s hips. Their kisses turn messy, lips dragging over cheeks and chins, spit gathering in the corners of their mouths and dripping down so that when Heeseung pulls away he can see a shiny trail of drool down Jake’s neck. 

And he’s beautiful; Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so beautiful as Jake is underneath him, cheeks a bright pink and eyes dark and lips a bruised a red. Heeseung’s breath feels hot in his throat; he feels like he’s burning from the inside out, desperate in a way he hasn’t been since he was a teenager. He noses at Jake’s neck, then sucks the skin into his mouth, feeling the way his heart pounds against his is tongue. Jake gasps, blunt nails digging into the base of Heeseung’s neck and scratching along his shoulders. 

“Hee—“ Jake groans. He tightens his legs around Heeseung’s waist, and Heeseung can feel it, can feel the heat of him, the hardness even through both of their jeans. It makes him feel insane, unhinged, all thoughts gone except for the desperate need to make Jake feel good, to hear him moaning his name over and over. 

He kisses Jake again, keeps kissing him, wet and hot and gasping breaths as they rut against each other. Jake’s hands are everywhere, in Heeseung’s hair, along his shoulders, down his back, gripping his ass as he pulls him impossibly closer. The air in the room feels syrupy and thick; Heeseung can feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

“Wait,” Jake gasps. “Wait, wait.”

Heeseung stops and pulls away, a cold feeling of dread and regret settling into the pit of his stomach. Now that he’s still, he can hear his own ragged breathing and the pounding of his heart. He’s aware of just how hard he is, thick and aching in his jeans. He’s aware of the way his shirt is sticking to his back from sweat — when did everything get so hot? — and what’s worse is that Jake is still so, so beautiful beneath him. His heart aches. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and fuck even his voice is gone, hoarse and wanting. “I’m sorry, that was too much.”

Jake cups his cheek with one hand; his hands are rough from the dry weather and calloused at the pads where his fingers meet his palm, like he spends a lot of time working with tools, or maybe he goes to the gym and spends a lot of time lifting. There is so much about Jake that Heeseung doesn’t know. There’s so much that he wants to know.

“It’s not too much,” Jake says. His lips quirk into a mischievous smile and his hand travels down Heeseung’s throat, down, down, down his chest and his stomach, down to the button of his jeans that he undoes with a swiftness that makes Heeseung think he’s done this quite a bit, and then his hand goes down past the elastic of his underwear and palms against his erection. Heeseung’s head flops forward, hair curtaining over his eyes, as he chokes back a muffled groan.

“Is this too much?” Jake whispers, his fingers sliding over the head of Heeseung’s cock. Heeseung knows that he’s already wet; he can feel it as well as hear it, the subtle sticky sound of Jake rubbing the precum around. “Because I really want to do this.”

“Yes,” Heeseung gasps. Then, “no, not too much. I want — I want it too.”

Jake’s smile is radiant even as Heeseung fumbles with his jeans, cursing when the zipper gets stuck and Jake has to wiggle his hips in order for him to pull his pants down enough to release his cock (which is cute — thick and pink and glistening at the tip). Heeseung shoves his own pants down as well, groaning when he realizes that it restricts the way he and Jake lay on each other, unable to open their legs wide with their jeans holding their thighs.

It’s messy — the kind of handjobs that should be reserved for awkward teenagers fumbling around in dark corners trying to not get caught. And maybe they aren’t that much different with Riki down the hall and the coffee table the only piece of furniture that is protecting their modesty from prying eyes. Heeseung spits into his hand and grips Jake’s cock, almost coming immediately when Jake licks over his own palm and grips Heeseung as well. 

The movement is mostly practiced — Heeseung moving his first the way that he likes, twisting at the top with long, drawn-out strokes. Jake’s hips jump beneath him, twisting and whining like he’s trying to get more — and he probably is since he’s jerking Heeseung off with short, fast, strokes, like he’s right on the edge, like he wants to see Heeseung come.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groans, dropping so that he can press his lips to Jake’s neck, sucking and biting along the tender skin, tasting salt and the slight bitter tang of floral perfume. “I’m gonna come.”

“Please.” Jake’s voice is louder than either of them expect, both of them folding in and colliding their mouths in a desperate kiss. Jake nips at Heeseung’s bottom lip. “Please, I’m so close.”

Heeseung decides to stop torturing him and picks up the pace. Their rhythms are so in sync that Heeseung feels like he’s touching himself, he feels like the noises coming from Jake are also coming from his own mouth. He feels so connected with Jake, feels like he’s losing his virginity all over again, and that’s so stupid because he barely knows Jake, but he wants to know him more and he hopes Jake wants to know him too. 

"Oh," Jake whimpers, clutching at Heeseung with his one free hand, gripping his hair hard enough that his head aches. "Oh – oh my god."

"I know – I know, me too."

Jake opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but then Heeseung twists his wrist just right and his mouth slams shut with a muffled groan as his back arches and he spills over Heeseung’s hand. Heeseung watches the way Jake’s eyes flutter shut, watches the jut of his Adam's apple move as he tries to swallow, watches his teeth scrape over his lip while he whimpers and whines, trying to keep quiet.

Jake’s fist loses it's rhythm and Heeseung just grinds against his palm. He's so close that he can taste it, breath hot in his mouth and spit thick under his tongue and lashes heavy as he tries to keep his focus on Jake, only Jake.

Jake blinks his eyes open as his back collapses back against the ground, hazy and dark, and Heeseung loses it. His forehead slams against Jake's shoulder as he comes, whole body shaking, sounds coming out of his mouth that he has no control over.

It's not that Heeseung has been completely celibate since Riki was born, but it's been a while since Heeseung even had the desire to get off. He feels completely boneless now, sated with feeling Jake's heartbeat pounding almost in time with his own. It's nice, the closeness, the oneness he feels. 

It's nice until he can feel a wet dog-tongue lick along his exposed thigh and he jumps with a loud shout, knocking knees and other bony parts into soft bits as he tries to scramble away from Jake, wipe himself off, and protect his dignity. Jake just laughs as he tucks himself away, seemingly completely unbothered by the fact that his dog watched him get off on Heeseung’s carpet.

"I'm sorry," Heeseung says as he wipes his hands off on the thighs of his pants. Jake tilts his head, smile faltering.

"For what," he asks. "I'm not."

Heeseung shrugs. Somehow what he was going to apologize for, not controlling himself and taking advantage of Jake's kindness, doesn't feel like it would be accepted.

"For not bringing you to my bed?" He settles on, and Jake laughs so hard that he flops against Heeseung's side.

"You can show me your bed now," Jake says, wiggling his eyebrows and then dissolving into a fit of giggles when Heeseung turns to look at him.

"Yeah?" Heeseung doesn't know why he's so shocked by the fact that Jake seems to be into him, but he is. "You wanna…you wanna sleepover with me."

Jake's smile is so soft and sweet that Heeseung feels like he can melt just from looking at it.

"Yes," Jake says. "I really want to sleepover with you."

Heeseung wants to say something, but his brain is surprisingly blank. Even his insecurities have quieted. All that matters is Jake’s warm (and slightly sticky) palm in his as Heeseung leads him to his bedroom. All that matters is the way Jake looks in his old t-shirt and sweats, standing in the center of the room looking sleepy and shy and lovely. All that matters is the way Jake feels wrapped in his arms under the covers, and Layla's heavy weight against his back where she's curled up on the otherside.

For the first time in a long time, Heeseung goes to sleep without having to convince himself that it will be a better tomorrow.

***

"Hey."

Heeseung groans and tries to roll away from the voice, but a cold, wet nose presses against his cheek which only wakes him up more. He blinks his eyes open to see Layla's golden fur and big brown eyes before she unceremoniously licks his entire face. He groans and rolls back onto his otherside, where Jake is shamelessly laughing at him.

He's already sitting up in bed, eyes bright and awake even though his hair is a mess and Heeseung's t-shirt is hanging loosely off of one shoulder. There is a purpling mark on the side of his neck that makes Heeseung’s stomach get hot.

"Good morning," Heeseung grumbles. "What time is it?"

"Riki’s not awake yet," Jake says, which to Heeseung means it's too early. "But it snowed. Want to go outside and make reindeer tracks?"

For a moment, Heeseung had completely forgotten what day it is. He looks at Jake’s eager face, phone in his hand with a parenting website open, and he's filled with the sudden desire to ask Jake to marry him like Riki had suggested. He doesnt, but he does cup Jake's cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss. He can feel Jake smiling against his lips, and it makes him smile as well.

"What was that for?"

"I didn't invite you over with the intention of doing this," Heeseung says, and Jake's smile falters.

"What do you mean?"

"Getting into your pants. I really – I don't want you to think that I invited you over for sex."

Jake laughs – and it's so pretty, his laugh, Heeseung wants to listen to it forever – and rolls so that he straddles Heeseung’s waist, pinning him to the bed.

"I didn't think that," he says, then smirks. "And technically I got into your pants first."

"Why did you come, then?" Heeseung asks, ignoring the fluttering in his gut. He wonders if Jake can see through him, if he can tell that what he really wants to ask is 'will you stay.'

Jake tilts his head. "I… I saw a beautiful family that was maybe looking for someone," he says softly. "And I…selfishly wanted to be a part of it."

"Not selfish," Heeseung says, pulling Jake down and kissing him. "We wanted to."

"Do you?"

And Heeseung knows what he's asking, because in his heart he is asking the same thing. He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind Jake’s ear.

"I want you," he says, blushing at how raw the admission sounds. But it doesn't matter how vulnerable he sounds or how embarrassed he is, because Jake’s smile is radiant before he kisses him again.

"Me too," Jake whispers. "I want you too. Now let's make some reindeer tracks."

It's far too cold outside and the tracks look more like two men and a dog trying to impersonate Santa Clause, but it doesn’t matter because Jake kisses Heeseung while they shower and they cuddle next to each other on the couch with cups of coffee spiked with hot cocoa mix. And when Riki comes out of his room screaming about how he saw sleigh tracks in the yard, bounding on the couch to cuddle with both of them, Heeseung feels like his heart is too big for his chest.

He holds Jake’s hand in his with Riki bundled into his side, feeling like this is always what it was meant to be.

"Jake," Riki says, as he dips a leftover Santa cookie into his cup of milk. "Are you gonna marry my dad?"

"I might," Jake says, throwing Heeseung a wink that makes him blush. "If your dad asks."

And Heeseung…well, he's tempted.