Andrew handed over one of the bags. “Go put these under the tree,” he instructed as he stepped inside the tiny apartment. He removed his boots and coat and headed to the kitchen with his other bags.

Neil was standing in front of the stove, frowning at a piece of fairly mangled packaging.

“Are you cooking?” asked Andrew, letting his extreme skepticism bleed into his tone.

“Cookies,” said Neil, brandishing the packaging. “From a tube. I think I can manage.”

“Can you?”

“I may have ripped the bit that told me what temperature the oven’s supposed to be but 450 should be fine, right?”

“If you want charcoal briquettes,” Andrew sighed and reached over, adjusting the oven temperature to something much more reasonable. Neil leaned against him and smiled, causing a slight ache in Andrew’s chest.

“Merry Christmas,” Neil said. “Thank you for coming.”

Andrew had received his usual invitations to spend the day with Bee or with Aaron but he’d declined in favour of spending it with the Jostens. He’d come to realize that there was nowhere he’d rather be, something which worried him. He hadn’t quite decided what to do about his attraction and attachment to Neil.

“DAD! PRESENTS!” shouted Kevin.

“He's excited,” commented Andrew, unpacking his groceries into the almost-barren fridge.

“He was awake at 2,” said Neil, pouring out two mugs of coffee from his coffee maker (the only high quality appliance in the kitchen).

“Was he worried you’d disappeared again?” asked Andrew in a low voice. Kevin didn’t have any concrete memories of his mother anymore but he did carry the lasting impression that she’d left in the middle of the night and never returned. He had the habit of getting up to check that Neil hadn’t abandoned him.

“No, he just couldn’t sleep from excitement. I eventually had to threaten to take away his presents to get him to stay in bed until a reasonable hour.”

Kevin ran into the kitchen. “You said we could open presents when Andrew got here,” he said impatiently. He grabbed Andrew’s hand and started ineffectually pulling him. “Come see the tree! I decorated it myself.”

“I see that,” replied Andrew. The tree was small, but real, probably brought over by Boyd or Reynolds. All the ornaments were clustered at the front and were about three and half feet off the ground - directly level with Kevin’s eye-line.

“Look at my presents!” said Kevin, as Andrew settled on the couch. Neil perched beside him and handed over one of the mugs of coffee. “I’ve got one from you and one from Matt and one from Dan and one from Allison and one from Wymack and one from Miss Renee and one from Laila and one from Abby-”

“Breathe, bud,” said Neil.

“-and THREE from Santa and zero from Dad.”

“Oops,” said Neil. “That’s supposed to be two from Santa and one from me.”

“Santa’s wrapping ability seems to be on par with yours,” said Andrew, indicated the three messily wrapped parcels that stood out from all the neat folds and tight corners of the other presents.

“We collaborated,” said Neil.

“Can I open them now? Please, dad? Pllllllease?” whined Kevin.

Andrew flinched minutely. The word ‘please’ still held terrible connotations for him - especially when spoken in a child’s voice - but Kevin whined enough that he was becoming desensitized to hearing it.

“Open the one from Allison,” said Neil. “I don’t trust the smile she gave me when she brought it over.” He turned to Andrew. “The last time she smiled at me like that she gave Kevin cymbals.”

Allison’s gift turned out to be a collection of children’s DVDs full of colourful characters and songs that were probably specifically written to appeal to kids and to torture their parents.

“I don’t know what I did to make her hate me,” said Neil despondently.

“She doesn’t hate you,” said Kevin, looking concerned. “She likes you. She gives you hugs and pats your head and calls you kitten.”

“I’m aware,” said Neil dryly.

Kevin still looked troubled. “Once, she told Miss Renee that she’d do you if you weren’t so obivious. What’s that mean?”

Neil groaned.

“Dad? What’s obivious?”

“It means your dad doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him,” provided Andrew.

Kevin’s face cleared. “Like when he can’t find his shoes?”

“Exactly like that,” said Andrew. “Open another present.”

Kevin was sufficiently diverted by opening the rest of his presents.

“He’s so spoiled,” said Neil fondly, picking up the discarded wrapping paper once Kevin had disappeared into his room to organize his new toys. Not play with. Organize. Andrew was convinced that this was abnormal child behaviour but he appreciated it since it decreased the likelihood of him stepping on a Lego brick.

“You’re the one who decided to settle in a town full of busybodies,” said Andrew.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?”

Andrew couldn’t. His life had changed so much since Neil, looking like a zombie, had carried a screaming toddler into his diner on a late November evening. At first he’d told himself that he was helping out and keeping a close eye on him for Kevin’s sake - he was never going to allow a child to be harmed like he’d been if he could prevent it. He hadn’t needed Bee, his therapist, to point out that a lot of his initial interest was due to his own unresolved childhood issues: how many times had he wished that someone would steal him away and keep him safe?

It had taken him some time before he’d realized the danger he was in. One morning he’d handed Neil his morning coffee and Neil had given him a genuine smile and looked at him as if he were the only person on the planet that had any worth. Then Neil had taken a sip of the coffee and emitted a groan that was practically pornographic, sending a bolt of desire through Andrew’s lower belly.

Unfortunately it hadn’t taken him long to ascertain that Neil didn’t return his interest. Neil didn’t return anyone’s interest, actually, which was lucky as Andrew didn’t have to watch him date someone else. Neil was busy with his job and overwhelmed caring for Kevin and Andrew didn’t think that dating was currently in the cards for him, even if he had showed any inclination of wanting to.

Bee had told him that he had three choices.

One, he could ask Neil if he were interested in starting a romantic relationship. Andrew vetoed that; he had no desire to pressure Neil into something he may feel obligated to do because of how much he relied on Andrew.

Two, he could distance himself from Neil (and, by necessity, Kevin) and try to move on with someone else. That option made Andrew’s stomach hurt, especially since he wouldn’t be able to explain to Neil why his behaviour had suddenly changed.

Or three, he could accept that his relationship with Neil may never be exactly what he wanted but it was important and fulfilling all the same.

Andrew started on dinner fairly early. He was roasting a chicken as he wasn’t about to make an entire turkey for the three of them. For the last two years Neil had attended the dinner that Wymack provided at the Foxhole Inn for staff and guests and townspeople who had nowhere else to go, but Andrew had offered to cook this year and Neil had gladly accepted.

Kevin shuffled into the kitchen, blinking sleepily. His adrenaline had clearly worn off and his lack of sleep was catching up with him. Still, he clutched one of the DVDs from Allison and held it wordlessly out to Neil, who was keeping Andrew company and occasionally helping as Andrew prepared their meal.

“Are you sure you don’t want a nap?” asked Neil.

“Naps are for babies,” said Kevin disdainfully.

“I nap all the time,” said Neil. “I love naps.”

“For babies and disasters,” corrected Kevin.

Andrew felt his lips twitch as he put the chicken in the oven. Neil was glaring at him when he straightened.

“That is completely your fault,” he accused.

“I only speak the truth,” said Andrew.

Neil rolled his eyes and turned back to Kevin. “You go put that in the DVD player and we’ll meet you there.”

Andrew brewed another pot of coffee while Neil gathered blankets and they settled into a warm nest on the couch. Kevin climbed up beside Andrew and cuddled against him, already losing his fight with sleep. His blinks became longer and slower as the movie started.

Neil was leaning heavily on Andrew’s other side, having fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d sat down. He had the enviable ability to instantly drop off to sleep almost anywhere. Andrew knew that he must be exhausted as he’d been picking up extra shifts at the inn so he could afford to take the next week off to spend time with Kevin. He snuffled and started drooling on Andrew’s shirt.

Andrew watched the inane movie alone as Neil and Kevin slept, already knowing that at least one of the songs was going to be stuck in his head forever. He’d be humming it for weeks.

It's a bit ironic because this comic was supposed to be a chill one where I just draw and try not to focus on perfection and just have fun instead. But for these pages I got so stuck up in the perfectionism because of the longer breaks that I dreaded working on them. Oops.

I think most artists can relate to this, though. I'll try to work on it!

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