A/N: Kurt needs to find a creative way to get his husband on board with helping get their excited son, Thomas, to sleep. Written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt 'mistletoe'. Holiday fluff with a few suggestive overtones.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and scowls as he watches his husband and son grapple around on the floor over a plastic The Flash Christmas ornament.

"I get to put it up," Thomas argues, grunting beneath his father's weight, holding the ornament over his head to keep it out of Sebastian's reach.

"No, I get to put it up," Sebastian growls playfully, pretending that he can only barely reach the ornament that his son holds aloft in his tiny hand.

"Guys," Kurt calls over the melee, clapping his hands to get their attention, "it's time for bed. It's way past Thomas's bedtime."

The wrestling match halts with The Flash hovering above their heads, clutched in Thomas's fist. Two faces turn towards Kurt, wearing disappointed frowns.

"Uhhhhh," they both moan.

"But, Papa," Thomas protests, "the tree is only half done."

"Then we'll finish it in the morning," Kurt says.

"Can't we finish it now?" Thomas whines in that annoying but forgivable way that excited children do during the holidays. "Pllleeeaaaasssseee?"

"Yeah, Kurt," Sebastian adds. "Pllleeeeaaassseee?"

"Sebastian," Kurt snaps, doing his best to curb his temper, "we talked about this. We need to show a unified front. Thomas needs to stick to his schedule."

"But…but it's Christmas," Sebastian pouts in an exaggerated Tiny Tim-esque Cockney accent, and with a smile in his eyes.

"Sebastian," Kurt says, tapping the toe of his foot, "it's December 10th."

"It's Christmas month," Sebastian corrects him, "and during Christmas month, every day in December is Christmas Eve until Christmas arrives. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah," Thomas agrees, copying his father's smug tone, a recent practice that Kurt despises.

There's a pause, thick with tension, while the duo on the floor stare up at their disciplinarian. Then, apparently without needing another word from Kurt, the two start wrestling around again. Thomas holds the coveted Flash ornament tight in his grasp, and Sebastian stands with the boy, lifting him up onto his shoulder and spinning him around like the propeller of a helicopter.

Kurt watches them and sighs, knowing that in five minutes he'll be cleaning up kid vomit off the floor.

Kurt looks down at the open and forgotten boxes of Christmas decorations, a length of gold garland and a string of defective lights strewn out messily over the sofa, when he catches sight of something and an opportunity to end this bedtime struggle presents itself.

Kurt doesn't like to resort to baser tactics when dealing with the disobedience of his husband and son, but he has no other alternative.

"Okay," Kurt says, throwing his hands up in surrender, "you guys win."

Sebastian stops spinning and looks at Thomas, and the two of them throw their fists triumphantly in the air.

"Yup," Kurt continues, "you guys get to stay up as long as you both like, but first, I get to give daddy a kiss under the mistletoe."

"Woo-hoo," Sebastian coos, lowering the boy to the ground (who steals the opportunity to hang The Flash on the tree) and sashaying up to his husband. "Okay…so, where did you hang it, babe?"

Kurt stares Sebastian in the eyes while he tugs his husband toward him by his belt, fiddling with the end that sticks through the buckle, luring Sebastian to his lips with come hither eyes. Sebastian leans in, lips barely brushing Kurt's, but Kurt backs away with a superior smile and a shake of his head. Sebastian stares at him questioningly, with a look of confusion on his face. Kurt's eyes dart downward for a brief moment, and Sebastian's eyes follow to where Kurt's hands rest on his belt. There, dangling from the curl in the leather, Kurt has hung a sprig of fresh mistletoe.

Sebastian stares blankly at the new adornment on his belt.

It takes Sebastian a second before he fully comprehends, but when he does, he turns like a shot and races to the tree to gather up the little boy.

"Come on, Tom-Tom," Sebastian says, barreling towards the boy's bedroom with his giggling son slung over one shoulder, "we have to listen to Papa. It's time you were asleep…deep, deep asleep…"