A belated Day 3 of Ficmas.

Takes place pre-fic. The twins are 4, Robin and Ruth are 24.

Growing up, Robin's family would cut their Christmas trees down themselves. No matter where they lived: the countryside in England, that small apartment in Brooklyn or the house in Michigan. The family would huddle up in his dad's beat up truck and head down to the lot. Ears turning pink from the cold, they'd scan for the tallest one their home could manage. Later, they would decorate it with homemade ornaments and strings of popcorn and cranberry that his mother spent hours putting together.

Robin always told himself he'd do the same when he had kids of his own. He's only officially been with Ruth for nine months now, living together for one but he already considers the boys his. Heaven knows Robert isn't going to stand up for them, so he'll be what they need or at least try to. He so badly wanted to find a tree lot and cut down a tree, drag it home. But money is tight this year. He quit his job at the ad agency earlier this year and has been slowly traveling through the process of becoming a rookie firefighter. Ruth's balancing both school and her full time job at Home Depot. Spending the money to cut down a tree just isn't practical.

So, he digs out his tiny two-foot artificial tree from storage. When he bought it shortly after getting this apartment, John had dutifully named it "An even more pitiful version of Charlie Brown". Robin had found it extremely discounted in March. At the time, he was a single guy with no family to speak of. A dollar for a Christmas tree was a steal.

It droops under the weight of decorations the boys made at daycare combined with the few that fit from Robin and Ruth's childhoods. She makes the star out of white origami paper that she borrowed from their neighbors. It sits in the corner of the living room, a Rudolph blanket covering the bottom.

The boys don't seem to mind as the pile it with ornaments, that is when they're not dashing to the TV to watch whatever Christmas cartoon is terrorizing the screen. They drink huge gulps of hot chocolate and scarf down the cookies Ruth made. They keep exclaiming how much fun they're having. The excitement in their bright blue eyes marginally eases some of Robin's guilt.

Ruth's disappeared into the kitchen and the boys are back on the rug. This time, their eyes are torn from the television as they whisper into each other's ears. Robin arches an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. They're barely four and already, try to scheme to get one over on him and their mother.

"Whatchya talking about, boys?"

David pulls away, his cheeks tinting a bit. "You ask him," he mumbles to his brother.

James shakes his head. "Nuh uh, you ask him."

"Ask me what?" Robin asks, bracing himself to stay firm on the no more cookie rule.

David lets out a dramatic sigh, his head falling backwards. Robin bites his lip to suppress a giggle. "Um….well…do we…can we…" David finally looks over at him. "James wanted to know…" James glares at him. "Well you do!"

"Boys. Come on, just ask. I'll either say yes or no, no harm done."

"Can we call you Daddy?"

Time seems to stand still as Robin stares at the little boys in front of him. It's been two years since he entered their lives. They're smart, precocious and silly little boys that ask a million questions a minute. They wake up far too early on a Saturday to watch cartoons, especially Scooby Doo. Ever since they moved into the apartment, it's been messier. Everything seems to have a layer of jam caked onto it. It's hectic, loud…and he loves it. Even before he asked Ruth to go on a date with him, he knew he wanted to be something to them. He just didn't know what they'd want.

The answer's pretty clear now.

Robin drops to his knees in front of them, placing a hand on David's cheek and squeezing James' arm. "Do you want to do that?" They both nod. "Well, then I don't see a problem with it."

The two beam their matching smiles. "Cool," James says.

Robin laughs, despite the tears threatening to trickle down his face. "Cool," he repeats. "Now come on, I think we can sneak one more cookie while your mum gets dinner ready."