Sören was still not a morning person, but he'd learned to tolerate getting up in the morning because of Rey, and had learned to tolerate Rey waking him up on the weekends when he'd normally sleep in. This Sunday morning, the fourteenth, Rey was up before they were, climbing on the bed and bouncing.
"It's snowing!" Rey announced. "It's snowing!"
Anthony squinted at the clock and then at their daughter. He rubbed his face and scowled just before Seumas hopped on Anthony's side of the bed and proceeded to walk on Anthony's sternum. Sören tried not to laugh.
"Can we go sledding?" Rey asked.
"Can we wake up a little first?" Sören mumbled. "And we should have breakfast."
"OK." Rey leaned across the bed to pet Seumas, who was now settling on Anthony's chest, kneading and purring loudly. Sören reached up to tweak Rey's nose and she leaned in to let Sören kiss her brow.
After giving Seumas some pets, Rey was off down the hall, and Anthony and Sören shook their heads, chuckling. Sören sat up, making undead noises. "Braaaaaaiiiiiinnnnns."
"I feel that," Anthony said. "I think she siphoned off both of ours."
"Why the hell is she up so early, anyway?" Sören asked.
"The cat," Anthony said, giving Seumas a look. Seumas headbutted his face and Anthony chuckled, petting the cat indulgently with an affectionate eyeroll. "Pretty sure the cat woke her up, and she saw it was snowing and decided she needed to inform us."
"Well..." Sören yawned and stretched and got out of bed. "I'll go put on tea and start breakfast."
A few minutes later Sören and Anthony had attended to their morning bathroom business and stepped out. Rey was still in her pajamas, watching the snow fall out the living room window with a wistful look on her face. Sören came over and put an arm around his daughter.
"Mumdad, can I go outside while breakfast is cooking?" Rey's eyes were wide as she looked up at him.
It's like she's never seen snow before. But last winter had been mild, and the two winters of her life before it, Rey wouldn't remember much. This was the first real snowy winter Rey had known, and Sören imagined it must be magical to her, the same way snow was magical to him when he was that age growing up in Akureyri. And even though the practical, responsible adult side of Sören wanted to tell her to wait, and not say yes to every whim she had, the side of Sören that remembered that magic and wonder of wintertime in his childhood couldn't refuse.
"For a few minutes," Sören said. And then, even though he was still barely awake and wanted nothing more than to crawl back in his nice warm bed and sleep for a few more hours, he mumbled, "I'll put my coat and stuff on and join you."
Sören couldn't believe he was doing this as he went downstairs and outside with his daughter, the two of them still in pajamas but bundled up over them. Sören almost tripped, and the snowbank softened his fall. On impulse, Sören rolled onto his back, spread out his arms and legs, and began moving them back and forth.
"Whatcha making, Mumdad?"
"A snow angel," Sören said.
"Whee!" Rey threw herself down in the snow next to him and proceeded to do the same. When they got up they saw the two "angel with wings" prints in the snow, one smaller, one larger.
Nicholas came outside, and Sören could see his white chef's outfit underneath his trenchcoat. Sören waved. "You're working today?" Sören asked, feeling like an idiot for asking such an obvious question, but then, Nicholas was so handsome it made him feel giddy and stupid.
"The restaurant is open seven days. I usually take Saturdays and Mondays off and let the sous-chef handle things." Nicholas paused a moment, looking thoughtful before he stepped out into the snow. "Sundays are a bit different, however."
"How so?"
Nicholas bowed his head a little. "Even though I am no longer a priest, since I opened the restaurant back in September I have made it a custom to serve free meals - with a limited menu - on Sunday. No questions asked, so that way those in need don't have to be subject to providing proof, which can be humiliating."
Sören's heart skipped a beat. He already liked Nicholas Decaux, but something about this just made him like Nicholas even more. "That's beautiful," Sören said softly, feeling a tight ache in his chest. "You have a good heart."
"I'm just trying to do the right thing," Nicholas said. "Anyway, I'm off -"
"Wait." Sören put up his hand. "So... with serving free meals, do you take a bit of a hit with profits?"
"I'm not in debt, if that's what you're asking," Nicholas said. "Again, there's a limited menu on that day and that helps to keep costs down. I also have limited staff on that day."
There it was. Not thinking, just feeling, Sören said, "You want a pair of extra hands? Maybe two pairs? I, ah. Have to ask Anthony..." Sören glanced up at the window. "But I'll explain it's for a good cause."
"I don't want you to feel obligated," Nicholas said, looking a little sheepish.
Sören shrugged. "It's not something I'd offer every week, but... Christmas coming up, and all..."
"I'll wait," Nicholas said.
Sören took Rey upstairs. When Rey took off her coat and hat, Sören said to Anthony, "I have a question for you."
"Hm?" Anthony's eyebrows went up.
"Nicholas told me that his restaurant offers free meals, limited menu, on Sunday, no questions asked, so those in need can come in and have something good. He has limited staff on those days. I told him I'm willing to help out in the kitchen today. Do you guys want to join me? We could probably find something for Rey to do."
Anthony nodded. "Sure, I don't mind.” Then he smiled. “That's very kind of him. It's... heartwarming to see good people like that in the world."
"Then we can go sledding," Sören said, tousling Rey's hair. He turned to Rey and explained, "If we wait a bit to go sledding there might be more snow."
"OK!" Rey nodded.
Sören breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn't think Anthony would be offended, but he knew he was always taking a chance when he acted on impulse. Sören gave the thumbs up to Nicholas out the window, and then Anthony shoved him down at the table. "Breakfast first," Anthony scolded.
_
It was a short drive to Fête de la Sirène, a chateau within walking distance of the sea that had been repurposed into a restaurant. The restaurant had tables outside for al fresco dining, and a garden. Sören smiled as he saw the mermaid fountain near the restaurant entrance; they were coming in the back as kitchen staff.
Rey seemed as entranced by the kitchen as she was by the snow that morning. "Wow! It's Santa's workshop!"
"Oh god," Anthony said, facepalming.
Nicholas just chuckled. "Not quite, dear."
"Saint Nick, are these elves?" Rey pointed at the kitchen staff. Then she looked up at her parents. "Are you elves?" Her mouth made an "o", eyes wide as she considered the possibility.
"Oh god. Rey, honey..." Anthony stooped down. "That isn't Father Christmas. You're going to have to call him something other than Saint Nick, because he's not."
"Like what?" Rey asked.
"Uncle Nick," Sören volunteered.
Rey looked confused. "Is he your brother?"
If he was, that would be incest. Sören's face was on fire, desperately not wanting to have that reaction, not wanting to find Nicholas so attractive. Not wanting to find that Alpha smell so delicious. Sören swallowed hard, and before he could say anything, Anthony suggested, "Maybe he could be Grandpa."
"Uncle Grandpa," Rey said.
Anthony looked like he wanted to crawl under the tiles and hide. Sören was right there with him. But then Rey said, "Hi, Uncle Grandpa."
"Hello, dear." Nicholas gave the adults a look, as if to say this is worse than being called Saint Nick, but he kept his tone soft with the child, which Sören was grateful for. Children all said weird things, and he had certainly been no exception as a youngster.
_
Bringing Rey along meant that two pairs of adult hands volunteering in the restaurant's kitchen was effectively one pair at a time, as Anthony and Sören rotated turns with keeping her occupied and out of trouble. Still, even with one more on the kitchen staff, and only able to do basic work - not trained specialist activities - things still got done, and by the time Nicholas was ready to close, he took the two gentlemen aside and thanked them.
"Today was a lot less stressful than it could have been," Nicholas said. "Having the extra workers helped a lot."
"We're glad," Anthony said. "And it was kind of fun. I mean, we can't do it every weekend -"
"Nor would I expect you to," Nicholas said. "It was still appreciated this weekend."
"What you do is appreciated," Sören said, watching the last of the patrons clear out. "Very generous. That could have been me out there, I was a starving artist when I first came here. The world needs more people like you." Then I'd explode from the sexy. Sören wanted to kick himself for thinking like that.
Nicholas gave a small smile that also seemed a bit sad. "As I said, I still value Christ's teachings even though I no longer adhere to any religion and no longer believe in sin or heaven and hell. When I was a priest, I worked with the poor, the homeless. It is still something I feel strongly about."
Sören wanted to hug him, but held back.
Then Nicholas looked at the clock, and back at the three of them. "As my gratitude for your help today, I would be honored if you would be my guests for dinner."
"That's very nice of you," Anthony said, "but you've already been cooking all day. We'd be happy to take you out -"
Nicholas waved his hand dismissively. "I enjoy cooking, or I wouldn't cook for a living."
Anthony and Sören looked at each other, and then Anthony nodded and Sören did as well. "OK," Anthony said.
"We did say we would take Rey out sledding after this was all done," Sören said.
"That's fine," Nicholas said. "It will take me at least a couple of hours to get everything together, so you've got time."
"You don't want to come sledding with us?" Rey asked.
Nicholas chuckled. "I'm a bit too old for that, my dear."
"You're never too old," Sören said; he had the mental image of sledding someday with his future grandchildren. "If you want to come along sledding, we'd be cool with that."
"Perhaps another time," Nicholas said.
"OK." Sören wasn't going to let it go; he intended to cash in on that offer, if only because the thought of Nicholas sledding tickled him. "Well, sledding and dinner it is."
Over the summer when the cost of winter sports gear was cheaper, they had bought a "family size" sled that could fit adults, and a couple of inner tubes. Rey had heard about the joys of sledding and inner tubing with her parents, and now she got to try it. From the restaurant, Anthony drove them to a park with good hills, and as the sun set they took turns using the sled and the inner tubes down the hill over and over again. Sören took a few selfies and videos of himself and Rey going down in the sled and the tube together, wanting to preserve the memory. But he knew that he would never forget her laughter, the way she shouted "Again!" jumping up and down, the squealing and the big smile on her face each time, the rush that felt like flying.
They stopped at home to feed the cat and give him some attention before going back out to Nicholas's place. Something smelled delicious as soon as they walked in.
"Beef Wellington," Nicholas said.
Sören was impressed; Nicholas was pulling out all the stops for them. Nicholas served wine to the grownups and a faux cocktail of ginger ale and cranberry juice for Rey. Sören sat on a leather couch next to Anthony, admiring the rocking chair Nicholas sat in, the armchair where Rey's legs didn't touch the floor, the hardwood floors with shaggy blue throw rugs and the simple, Scandinavian-design coffee table, bookshelves stuffed with old books, the record player set on a tall stool. The fireplace was going with the lovely smell of woodsmoke, a grandfather clock ticked, and Sören felt almost as cozy and at home as he did in their own flat.
"It's rare to find a man your age who loves to cook," Anthony said when Nicholas sat down, and realized the wording of find a man sounded like they were dating. "How did you get into the restaurant business, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I learned to cook from my mother," Nicholas said. "It was unusual at the time, but she thought it would be a useful life skill and perhaps impress the ladies." Nicholas gave a wry smile. "When I became a priest, as you know I worked at a mission with the homeless. I thought they deserved something better than standard soup kitchen gruel, so I made it a point to cook good food for them. It's something I'm passionate about, something of an art form, I suppose."
"I like that," Sören said, nodding. "I'm an artist."
"Ah, I did wonder what you did for a living," Nicholas said.
"I paint and sculpt," Sören said, smiling proudly. "And it means I can be home with Rey."
"It's nice to see people so devoted to their child," Nicholas said. "Part of why I wanted to learn to cook from my mother was because it was one of the only times she was nice to me."
Sören's face fell. Again he felt that urge to take Nicholas into his arms and hold him tight.
"I'm sorry," Nicholas said. "I shouldn't have said that -"
"No, it's OK." Sören swallowed hard. "My own childhood was rough. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who were alcoholics."
Nicholas nodded. "I didn't have it as bad as some, but I didn't get a lot of love and nurturing. I turned to religion, the concept of God as a Father."
"So that feeling of being let down and betrayed by your religion must be even harder than it would be." Sören felt ready to cry.
"Indeed. And it was very difficult, after decades of service, to leave and pursue a secular life. But... I am starting to feel like I'm finding my way. Having... friends... helps." Nicholas raised his glass.
"We could use friends too," Sören admitted. "The two of us are very wrapped up in each other and I suppose Anthony's parents, too. There's Edmund, but..."
"Our daughter could use an uncle." Anthony chuckled.
"Uncle Grandpa," Rey corrected.
Nicholas smiled at her, then narrowed his eyes at the adults. Sören smiled innocently, and Nicholas smiled in return, letting them know he wasn't that annoyed. Then Nicholas went on, "I must say that this is different than the sort of friends I thought I'd have, when I left the priesthood."
"Sinners," Sören teased.
Nicholas chuckled. "I told you I don't judge consenting adults. It took me a long time to let go of the idea that loving someone of the same gender is a sin, and I accept myself and others now. It happens in nature, after all. You seem a lot healthier than many of the more 'traditional' families I've encountered."
"We try," Sören said; Anthony hugged him.
"I am curious how it started," Nicholas said. “Why you left Iceland, and all.”
“Well...” Sören and Anthony looked at each other, and Sören took a deep breath. “When I was living in Reykjavik, Anthony was visiting there - in December, just before the holidays, we met at a bar, I worked there. We hit it off right away and I offered to show him around and then I...” Sören bit his lower lip. “Went into heat.”
“I see,” Nicholas said.
Sören's cock stirred at the memory. It was the best sex he'd ever had to that point – and it kept getting better as the years went on, as he and Anthony learned each other's bodies. But that first time was beautiful, both with the way Anthony built a nest for Sören and tenderly cared for him, and the way they'd pleasured each other for hours and hours over the three days. Even though they'd just met, it was incredibly intimate... making love, not just fucking. It had felt fated, like they were made for each other, and meant to find each other.
“He claimed me,” Sören said, a frisson going down his spine as he remembered the knot inside him, throbbing... the bite on his neck... “and... we decided I should move out to London and see if it works. That was back in 2007, I was twenty-three, and Anthony was twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight.”
“I was still getting off the ground in my law career so we had a small flat together in London,” Anthony said. “But then in 2009 we looked for a better flat after...” He put a hand on Sören's belly.
“And I wanted to live by the sea, because that's where I've always lived, first in Akureyri, then Reykjavik,” Sören said. “It's good for the soul. Thought it would be good for our child.”
"We haven't regretted it, even though I have a bit of a drive to and from work every day," Anthony said. "Brighton is special."
"It is," Nicholas said. "It's why I came here. Sort of magical, even, you could say."
"And our paths crossed." Sören's eyes met Nicholas's. "You may not believe anymore, and I don't really know what I believe - I'm a Lutheran on paper but not observant - but it feels almost like we met for a reason." He felt self-conscious as soon as the words were out of his mouth - the wine had loosened him - but nonetheless, it felt true, a shiver going down his spine. It felt almost like the way he and Anthony had felt fated to meet each other.
And he knew why it felt true. He felt a similar sort of spark with Nicholas that he had with Anthony when they met. That terrified him - he didn't know how it would affect his relationships if he even mentioned it, let alone pursued it. But it was there and he couldn't deny it.
"Perhaps," Nicholas said.
"That reason is so he can see Frozen," Rey informed them.
Sören facepalmed. "Dammit, Rey." He shook with laughter.
"Rey? Let it go," Anthony teased.
Rey began to sing, "Let it go, let it go..."