It's happened again. They've had the same argument they've been having for weeks now, and as always, they've stormed off to their wounds in private and Jongdae is tired of it. Exhausted, actually. Between the new baby, work and planning for Christmas, he's left with little time to destress and a partner who's not faring much better.

So they lash out. At each other. They say the things they know will hurt the most, and they look away to miss the crestfallen look on the other's face. You don't know someone for as long as they have without learning all of the things that really sting.

But they're older now. Older, and more responsible. They can't scream at each other until they're hoarse and hope someone will referee because it doesn't work like that. And for all Yixing accuses Jongdae of being immature – irresponsible, even – needy if he's being really nasty – he does have the sense to back off and stop because this is getting personal.

He knows that by tomorrow - maybe even within the hour – Yixing will regret what he's said and the awkward, fumbling apologies will start, but he's had enough. He deals with the baby every night, too. He helps shepherd the kids to school, he goes to work and comes back with no time to switch off. Yixing has it hard too, he accepts that. But being accused of being a flighty, selfish dip isn't just an affront to his parenting anymore. It's an affront to his heart, and that's why he needs to back away now, before they get loud enough to wake the kids.

It's nearly Christmas. No way in hell is he going to kill their buzz – this holiday is too important as a family for that. And while it might feel as if things are fracturing internally, their family is still going strong. He'd never dare risk that.

***

It's a little late for anything to be open right now – around here, most places close by midnight – but he can't stay in the house right now. He needs a breather, a quick runaround in the car before he can come back and sleep on the sofa without crying. He feels guilty, yes – but he's not leaving for long and Yixing will handle the kids if they wake up. Which Sunhwa most definitely will.

The Christmas tree glows faintly in the dark. Someone or other must have forgotten to turn the lights off, and he sighs, intending to flick the switch – but then he hears it.

"No!" Jongseok scrambles out from behind the sofa, an unhappy look on his little face. "We have to leave the lights on for Santa!"

Jongdae blinks, groaning quietly because there's no way he can escape now. "Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing up? It's way past your bedtime. Come on," he says, sliding behind Jongseok to gently usher him up the stairs. "Up to bed with you." If he's quick, he can get him back to bed and be out the door before anyone's the wiser. And by anyone, he means Yixing. He doesn't need to give the other man anymore reasons to accuse him of flightiness.

Jongseok doesn't resist, but he doesn't exactly move, either. "I heard yelling," he mumbles, scuffling his feet. "It woke me up. So I came downstairs to see if you and baba were okay and - " He stops, small mouth setting into a tight line. He twists around to face his father, a worried expression on his face. "Daddy, are things..." His face furrows, his limited, four year-old vocabulary making it hard to describe his feelings. "Bad?" He settles on the word tentatively, as if unwilling to make the commitment.

And when he looks up at Jongdae, those wide, dark eyes so reminiscent of his own, he knows he’s not going anywhere. There’s that spark of childish innocence that begs him to tell him everything’s going to be okay, that daddy will fix it like he always does when there’s a monster under the bed or he’s got a boo-boo that definitely needs to be kissed better.

Whatever Yixing accuses him of being, he’s not irresponsible. So he bends down and hefts the little boy into his arms. Jongseok clings onto him immediately, arms winding around his neck so that he can put his thumb in his mouth – a habit they’ve never been able to dissuade him of.

“Everything’s fine, darling.” He forces a smile, even though it’s near impossible to smile when he feels this miserable. “Baba and I just had a little…disagreement.” He can only thank his stars that they never have their arguments in their bedroom – it keeps their little spats from spilling out into the kids’ lives, usually.

“Is it about Sunny?” Jongseok is quite taken with his new sister. He’s not entirely sure what she’s all about, or why she’s here, exactly, but he finds her interesting. “You’re not going to give her back, are you?” He pulls his thumb out of his mouth, looking frightened. “Is she only for Christmas?”

Any other day, and Jongdae would be laughing. But not tonight. Because for all the ridiculousness in Jongseok’s question, he’s hit a nerve he’s not quite ready to face. Because maybe they weren’t ready for another baby. Because maybe they’re too stressed to deal with a newborn and they’ve ed it all up – no.

None of their children were mistakes. Surprises, sure, in the case of Shang. But mistakes? Never. And he can’t let himself go down that route.

“No, baby.” Jongdae kisses the top of his son’s head, cuddling him tighter. “It’s not about your sister, and she’s not going anywhere. Your baba and I are just tired.” He rubs Jongseok’s back, trying to give off an air of not being stressed to the hilt and on the verge of self-combusting. “Like you should be. It’s almost Christmas Eve, you can’t be staying up until all hours like this! How will Santa come to deliver all your presents?”

Jongseok wriggles feebly in his father’s arms. “Not tired.” He pauses, loosening his tight choke-hold to look at Jongdae nervously. “Can I have a story first?”

Fighting back the lump in his throat, Jongdae finds another smile for his son. “I think that’s acceptable. If you go to sleep straight after.” Jongseok nods vigorously.

“I will, I will!” He bounces in Jongdae’s hold, happy because getting a story all his own is a rare occasion, and daddy is the best at reading to him. He does all the voices and the voices are the best. “Can I have Christmas Postman?”

It’s one of the children’s favourite story books, and Jongdae’s too, if he’s honest. All of the little flaps and extras make it exciting, but it is a bit difficult to read out loud – and it’s liable to get Jongseok too hyped up to sleep.

And yet…he can’t really say no. Not when he still feels guilty for waking him up with their caterwauling.

“Okay,” he finds himself agreeing. “Because it’s nearly Christmas, you can have Christmas Postman.”

The answering grin he gets from his youngest son is almost enough to get him to smile for real, this time.

***

By the time he finishes the book, Jongseok is struggling to keep his eyes open and it’s just past one in the morning. Jongdae has work in the morning, and he should really be setting the sofa up if he’s to get any sleep tonight, but he can’t quite work up the nerve to commit to it. He’s too alert, too nervy to fall asleep right now.

But he has to. It’s with a little sadness that he sets the book down on Jongseok’s nightstand, leaning over to kiss the top of his head and wish him goodnight.

“Daddy,” Jongseok whispers, voice thick with tiredness. “Can you sing me to sleep?” He twists in the bedclothes, wriggling closer to his father. “Scared.”

Jongdae sits back down on the bed, concerned. “Scared of what, sweetheart?” He says, smoothing the hair off of Jongseok’s forehead. “There’s nothing to be scared of!”

“Monsters,” Jongseok tells him. “Monsters in the crack in the wall.” Now he’s in bed, he’s realised he’s not quite ready to be alone yet.

Oh. Crap. Jongdae knows he should never have let Jongseok see that episode of Doctor Who, but well – he was so intrigued and Jongdae can never say no to introducing his children to anything he considers culturally important. “Alright,” he sighs, stretching himself out on the small, child-sized bed. “What do you want me to sing?”

“Don’t know,” Jongseok is already half-asleep, snuggling into Jongdae’s side like a koala bear. “Sing, daddy,” he pleads, and Jongdae can’t resist that little voice.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around his son. “Should I sing something Christmassy? You like Christmas carols, don’t you…”

My laptop died, so writing has become difficult. ._. I am trying to write Christmas drabbles, but it's hard without my laptop. BUT I MUST WRITE OUT THE CHRISTMAS FEELS.