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“Did we get it?” Rafael asks as Sonny stands and goes behind the camera to check the SD card. If it failed for whatever reason, it would be the fourth time the trio—Mike, Rafael, and Sonny, sitting in that order—would have to redo the photo for their Christmas card. First, Mama Carisi called; then the dogs had to go to the bathroom; then the timer hadn’t been working properly, meaning Sonny had to take an extra five minutes to play with it and get it to the right setting. It’s been fifteen minutes since they came out to the front steps of their brownstone.
Sonny looks at the latest photo and frowns. “Beatrice keeps on wiggling,” he says. “Mike, don’t hold her too tight. She’s not Wilson.”
Mike frowns but does as he’s told, shifting his hold on the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel so that her body is pressed against him more than it is dangling from his arm. Their big golden retriever, Wilson, sits between Rafael’s legs and smiles better than anyone. So far, he’s been the only one of their group to actually look good.
“I told you this would be a disaster,” Rafael points out with a deep sigh. “Bea doesn’t like it when you or Mike hold her.”
“What am I supposed to do then?” Mike wonders. “Just sit here with my hands in my lap?”
Rafael points to the two-story brownstone behind them. “I offered to grab Alexander, but you said he’d be too pissy.”
“Can we get through one photo without arguing?” Sonny asks, frowning as he arranges for three pictures to be taken on the timer. He had cleared space on the card just in case nothing went as planned, and so far, it was proving to be the right move.
“Don’t look at me,” Rafael scoffs, “your boyfriend said it.”
“He’s your boyfriend too,” Mike mumbles under his breath. “And you’re just as much at fault.”
Sonny can see the second the remark hits Rafael’s nerve square on, especially when he turns to glare at Mike. “Oh, please, tell me how I’m the one at fault.”
Mike’s brows furrow, a bit precious if they weren’t in such a tense situation, and his shoulders tense up at the irritation boiling in Rafael’s voice. “Alexander’s a street cat. You bring him outside, he’s gonna wanna jump out of your arms and roll around the ground, and he doesn’t care if it’s in the middle of the street or the sidewalk.”
Rafael hops to his feet and jabs a finger at the door. “I suggested we do this inside. It’d be a lot easier, and a lot warmer, to get it done in there.”
Mike stands as well, but Sonny steps between them. Even if it was unintentional, the second a physically taller figure tried to step over Rafael, his fight-or-flight kicked in and the risk of him saying something terrible heightened. “You both sound like children,” he says, gently pushing on their shoulders so they can sit down and plops down right between them. “Let’s just shut up and pretend to be happy for five seconds.”
The picture fails again; a gust of wind had passed right when the camera clicked off and blew their dogs’ coats and their own clothes as a reaction. It would have been fine if it had been a brisk breeze, but the strength of it makes them look odd at best. Rafael doesn’t even stay to hear what else Sonny has to say. He stands up from the brownstone, dusts off his pants, and returns inside with a few bounding steps, Wilson following after him with wide wags and Beatrice hopping out of Mike’s arms to join them.
Sonny recognizes the guilt welling in Mike’s eyes, flowing through his arms and scrambling at his feet, and he pulls the taller man into an embrace. Their running joke was that Mike was more of a puppy than Wilson had been, but sometimes he proves it a bit too well. That high energy that instantly dwindles when he realizes he’s done something wrong is all too familiar. And sometimes, with big personalities in the same room, there was the risk of stomping over each other’s toes.
“Just let him stew on it,” Sonny whispers, massaging a thorough circle into the center of his back. “You focus on breathing it out. Can you do that for me?” Mike nods, humming his confirmation. “Good. Take your time, okay?”
After a minute of standing and letting him listen to his steady breathing, Mike straightens up and lets out a deep sigh. “Thank you. I just…” He bites his lip, hand scrambling through his hair, and shuts his eyes. “It’s the first time we’re sending cards as one unit. I want it to be perfect.”
“I know. I bet Raf wants that too.” Mike sits back down on the steps with a groan. Sonny joins him and grabs his hand, squeezing it for reassurance. “It’s okay though. We’re not a picture perfect family. And we don’t need to be.”
“If you weren’t being so sentimental, I’d argue something different,” Mike scoffs.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I dunno. It’s like when parents have a new child: nothing but the best or else it’s not worth it.”
Sonny inches closer and leans forward so he can catch Mike’s gaze. He knows his words aren’t meant to be a dig at their relationship—no matter how upset he got, Mike would never. None of them would. But he still wants a clarification. “What’s not worth it?”
Mike fumbles with the sleeve of his jumper. “Sitting on our front steps in freezing weather to get the perfect shot. If we don’t make it the best we can make it, then what else do we have?” He glances up at Sonny, his eyes and voice brimming with tears but not quite falling. “I’m proud of my relationship. And I want other people to know that.”
Sonny smiles and takes Mike’s hand so he can kiss the top. All three of them already know how much they love and adore and appreciate one another. But to hear it is a different story. Those facts become much clearer; those words burst with affection in real time; and they can be properly appreciated by its audience. “They will. How about we go talk to Raf and see what he says about it?”
The trepidation is obvious on Mike’s face, but he nods regardless and stands with Sonny. When they get inside, Sonny grabbing his camera and tripod as he does, they find Alexander, their big orange cat, and Beatrice on the couch. Wilson, of course, is with Rafael, who they find in the kitchen brewing coffee. From behind, Sonny can locate the points of tension in his back and shoulders, and guilt floods his chest in a heartbeat. It shouldn’t take long to have them all forgive and forget, but it didn’t excuse the offense or sadness any of them had.
“Two in the afternoon and he’s making coffee,” Sonny teases, setting his equipment down on the island separating them. Rafael glances up as he steps around the counter and wraps him in a tight hug from behind. A smile rises on the corners of his lips but no more. “You’re lucky I brought lunch earlier and this isn’t the only thing you’re putting in your body.”
“I would never,” Rafael chuckles but the sound dies down when he sees Mike standing awkwardly in front of the island. Sonny backs off, pressing a kiss into his shoulder for reassurance. “Mike, I’m sorry.”
Mike wastes no time and rushes to Rafael’s side so he can tug him close. The way his arms wrap around his waist, the way Rafael clenches a fistful of his sweater, it’s something they both need. “No, I’m sorry. I wanted our first Christmas photo to be perfect.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” When Rafael tightens his grip, Mike scrunches his shoulders and brings the shorter man even closer to him. Sonny smiles at both of them and silently takes his camera and tripod back to the living room. He has a new plan to carry out.
“It is if it made you upset.”
“Hey.” Rafael pinches his arm lightly and moves back to glare up at him. “You better not be serious right now. Your feelings are valid too, Michael.”
Mike manages a smile at his full name and sighs deeply. “Yeah. I should have brought it up a little better than I did, though.”
“Maybe. But I should have been more understanding.” Rafael frowns and leans into Mike’s embrace, resting his head on his shoulder. Mike kisses the top of his head in response. “I guess I never had a reason to take a happy photo for the holidays when they were never easy for me. And that’s not an excuse for my behavior,” he adds, stealing a glance up. “It’s merely an observation.”
For what feels like the first time the whole day, Mike grins and nuzzles his nose softly against Rafael’s cheek. “Sounds like we’re both idiots.”
Rafael chuckles and leans up to kiss him, warm and chaste. “The prosecution rests.”
Sonny pops in when he doesn’t hear them chatting anymore and finds his boyfriends making out slowly in the middle of their kitchen, whispering soft “I love you”s every time they break apart. He leans against the entranceway and watches them for a moment, the languid movements and apologetic caresses looking more like a ballet than the recovery of a mild argument. He’ll break them up in a little bit, lead them to the couch and present his new plan. They’ll probably find it amusing—Mike laughing, Rafael rolling his eyes affectionately—but they’ll have no reason to deny him. Sonny always was good at makeups. And he knows them too well to not make the day worth it in the long run.
For now, as Mike reaches out for him and Sonny obliges without hesitation, sharing his love for both men and sharing it with butterfly kisses, he’ll enjoy the moment.
Perfection comes with different faces.
It comes in Mike surprising his boyfriends with gifts on a rainy Monday. It comes in Rafael grabbing them with a koala-like tightness and holding them close to his naked form. It comes in Sonny singing in their kitchen while he makes dinner. It comes in each of their pets doing something so inane that any one of them has to take a thousand photos of it and share all of them.
And now it comes with the three men huddled on their couch, surrounded by their love and that of their animals, captured in a photo that they will send to friends and family. It comes with Mike smiling so hard, his cheeks are red and high. It comes with Rafael throwing his head back and laughing a deep belly laugh, Wilson stretched between him and Mike while Alexander presses his front paws into his shoulder. It comes with Sonny cradling Beatrice the way she likes, curled into the couch mid-giggle, smiling free from the open skies in his eyes and the valleys in his cheeks.
It was not staged. They sat and talked and laughed as they normally would after a stressful work week. Sonny got up to fix the timer on their camera and let it take as many shots as it can. The perfect picture will come. And when it does, the struggle to get there becomes worth it.