Peter didn't want much for Christmas this year.

Growing up with a Scandinavian family, once it reached winter everybody went Christmas crazy: it was like being submerged in lights and pine trees, tied down by tinsel. So there he was, perched atop 'Santa''s knee at the mall (of course, at six years old, he knew that this wasn't the real Santa. But anyone could imagine). The Sealander had dressed up smartly for the occasion: a clean white shirt, free of juice stains, blue trousers and neck tie and long white socks- "To keep yer knees warm 'n the snow," his Papa used to say, his eyes and smile as warm as the aforementioned socks.

"Hello there, little boy." 'Santa', who looked bizarrely like Mr Frisk, owner of the chemists shop, addressed Peter, who nodded shyly in response. The gesture earned a soft coo from his Mama, Tino, who was stood by on camera. The Finn was standing alone this year.

"Yer thinkin' 've gettin' Peter a dog?" Berwald's eyes widened behind his glasses and he almost dropped his mug of cocoa.

"Mh hmm." Tino nodded, nuzzling closer to his much taller husband.

"T'no, we can barely 'fford to keep t'house, and now yer suggestin' a dog?"

The Finn sighed. "Peter's an only child, Berwald. When I was a kid I had brothers to play with, and friends, but there aren't many other kids around here of his age, and...I don't think we'll be having any more..."

"Wh't 're ye sayin'? We aren't gon' be togeth'r much long'r?"

"No! Berwald, I love you! We're happily married, remember? 'Till death do us part'?"

Berwald rolled his eyes behind his glasses in something that was a mixture of irritation, disbelief and boredom- lately, Tino had brought up the wedding vows a lot. They were heading downhill.

"Just forget it, Swe. Just forget it!" Tears brimming in his eyes, Tino stood up and slammed his mug down, hot cocoa staining the IKEA tabletop.

"Not this 'gain, Tino..."

"No, you're right! We can't even afford this house, a dog was a stupid idea. Just another stupid idea from air-headed Tino. Don't come moaning to me when our Peter has nobody to play with..."

"Quit bein' such a baby, Tino!" The Swede growled, clenching his fists to the point of trembling.

"STOP!"

Peter had to fight tears as he whispered the story into 'Santa''s cocked ear.

"And...and so, Santa, that's what I want for Christmas." Glazy blue eyes met pitying ones of an identical colour. "I want Mama and Papa to be happy again." A guilty, helpless looking Mr Frisk broke the contact and looked up at the circle of parents; most of which were either biting their lip in equal guilt, muttering something along the lines of 'What a sweetie' or 'Poor kid', and then there was Tino. Tino, blinking his big eyes rapidly to stem the tears that were threatening to spill. Times were hard with him and Berwald, and he didn't realise that Peter knew, let alone was so upset. He loved Berwald ever so much; he just couldn't shake the feeling that his husband didn't feel the same any more, and whenever he mentioned the subject, it set the Swede off on one. And then the arguments progressed: once either of the pair were in a bad mood, they bounced off each other like a Newton's cradle and argued over almost anything. Who'd pay for dinner, who should do the shopping, even things as mundane as who should wear what or what colour schoolbag Peter should have.

"Peter, oh, baby..." The Finn picked up a now sobbing boy, cradling him like he did when he was no more than an infant. "Peter, Papa and I are fine. I promise you." He whispered, more to himself than his son. "Ask Santa for something..." Something achievable? The ashamed look on Mr Frisk's face was his priority right now; he'd never live it down in the community. The Finnish man who scared the chemist for life. "Björn, don't stress." He mouthed over Peter's white shirted shoulder. The old man smiled sadly from behind his stick-on white beard and moved to pat Tino on the shoulder.

"I know how you feel," he murmured. "Me and my Jana were the same. We had our moments, but we loved each other, and as soon as we reminded ourselves of that, we realised what we were doing." His eyes clouded. "And believe me, Tino Väinämöinen, you must enjoy it why it lasts. Because love lasts forever, but...sometimes, people have to leave this world..." Peter looked up, not understanding the metaphor. Quickly distracting the child to avoid a hard conversation for Tino or Berwald, Mr Frisk pulled a small, white stuffed toy dog from his black sack of presents. "For you, Peter."

"Say thank you, Peter."

"Thank you, Santa." The small boy took the dog with a smile, remembering the conversation his parents were having that he interrupted. At least if he had his dog to play with now, then Santa could concentrate more on making what he really wanted for Christmas. Santa was magic, and he could do anything. (But he knew the man in front of him wasn't the real Santa, of course.)

Peter sat silently in the back of his Mama's car all the way home, cuddling his dog- named Hanatamago- under one arm and tracing patterns on the snow covered window with the other.

"Peter..." Tino began with a sigh. "Papa and I argue sometimes, but its only because we love each other. It happens sometimes." But it never used to be that way... He brushed the thought from his mind as he pulled up in the apparently shovelled out driveway. "It's getting late, sweetheart. How about you go and have a bath, and get an early night, so Santa has plenty of time to visit?"

"Papa!"

Upon seeing the tall Swedish man, Peter burst out of the car and hugged his legs, a chuckle emitting from Berwald's lips. He held a snow shovel at his side and was rosy cheeked from clearing the driveway.

"'Lo, littl' man." He dropped a kiss on his son's forehead, listening and smiling animatedly as Peter told him all about Santa and Hanamatago and how his dog would start talking at midnight because of Christmas magic.

"Peter! Go and get ready for bed, it's getting dark!" Tino called, smiling as he saw the excited boy run inside, knowing his Papa was there to catch him if he slipped on any ice. He seemed to have forgotten about the whole debacle and had regained the usual excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

"Brush'd yer teeth?"

A nod.

"Put th' food out for Santa and 'is reind'r?"

Another.

"Made yer Christmas wish?"

There was a pause before Peter nodded yet again. "Yes, Papa. I wished for you and-"

"Hush. Ye can't tell me, or it won't c'me true." Leaning down, Berwald pressed two kisses to Peter's forehead. "G'night, Peter. Mama says g'night too, he has to go out 'n' do his Chris'mas duties." Peter smiled sleepily.

"Goodnight, Papa." The Sealander was asleep before the light went out.

The door slammed shut, followed by a gust of snow peppered wind and a shivering but grinning Tino.

"All done?" Sipping from the small glass of Akvavit, Berwald smiled. He'd been thinking things through, and had realised how much his Tino really meant to him. He had to apologise for all he'd done, and he had to tell Tino he loved him. The smaller man smiled, producing a final present from his now limp sack and handing to his husband, too tired to notice or correct the jaunty red hat on his blonde hair.

"For you."

"I'll save that one f'r tomorrow mornin'." Smiling still, Berwald brushed the hat clean off and pulled Tino into his arms and onto the toes of his black buckled shoes so their faces were level.

"Berwald...I know times have been hard lately." Tino sighed, shuffling a little in his matching red, fur-trimmed jacket. "But I want you to know that I'm sorry if ever I'm annoying or forceful or too girly, but I just want you to know that I love you."

A small blush dusted Berwald's cheeks and his normally steely eyes turned into a warm, sunny, tropical sea.

"I l've you too, and I'm s'rry. Really. We will argue, b't nothin', and I mean nothin', can break our love. M'rry Christmas, Santa." And with that, the Swede gently placed his large hand on the back of Tino's head and into his soft, blonde hair, pulling him into a soft, Christmas kiss. There, in the doorway, stood Peter: grinning from ear to ear in his blue and white striped pyjamas. Papa was kissing Santa Claus! And- even better- Santa Claus was Mama! Stifling a giggle of joy, he trudged sleepily back upstairs, not noticing his still embraced parents at the bottom of the stairs watching him.

"It worked, Hana! My Christmas wish really worked! Christmas magic really exists..."

In those small hours of Christmas morning, a little boy named Peter fell asleep with his white dog toy, a smug smirk on his face and a warm feeling in his heart. He'd discovered that after all those years, Santa was his Mama after all. And this was going to be the best Christmas ever, because Mama and Papa were happy again.

So, my first published fanfiction~! Thank you very much for reading, reviews are lovely.