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»Oh please?« Marco fell on his knees, a very dramatic gesture, his hands folded.
Cold-heartedly Ace shook his head and nodded to the door where two figures stood, waiting for daddy. »It’s daddy-explains-unfortunate-photo-discoveries-time.«
Marco gulped. »I can already tell that I don’t like 'daddy-explains-unfortunate-photo-discoveries-time'.«
Ace shrugged, a very pleased smile gracing his lips. Was he enjoying Marcos misery? Fuck yes.
»Hurry up, darling. I didn’t marry you for your great costume taste.«
Marco huffed. »You married me so you could dump all the difficulties of parenthood on me.«
Ace kissed his lips, still smiling. »I married you so it would be legal to repay you with whatever I had to suffer through, because of your lazy excuses and general neglect for locks. Weird I remember you cheerished these handcuffs from the Halloween we went as polic - hey! How about we show that to our kids next year?«
Marco turned pale. He nodded slow his face tired. »I’ll make sure to get us locks on every single thing one could open, if only you take this conversation.«
The folded hands once again appeared in front of Ace face, but he showed himself visibly unimpressed by the gesture. So Marco sighed, head hanging he got up and walked over to their children, like it was his execution day.
In the living room they sat down on the couch. Ace in line with the children, directing an innocent smile at his love, who was sitting in an armchair in front of them.
»We have gathered here because of something your daddy and I call ‘The Naughty Santa Disruptory’, and no ‘disruptory’ is not a word, but it’s what I’m feeling right now.« Marco clutched his heart dramatically.
His audience remained unimpressed.
He sighed. »So you wanted to know why Uncle Thatch was so… lazily dressed as Santa?«
»Is a ‘Naugthy Santa’ like a ‘Sexy Pirate’?« their youngest chimed in.
Marco shriekd at every words leaving his sons mouth. »No. A Naughty Santa is a Santa… who has been a very bad Santa.«
Ace questioningly raised an eyebrow at Marco. If this story had no turning point he might as well have to take over.
»He did very poorly on his job. You know Santa not only watches over the children but also over himself. And when Santa has been a bad Santa, he does not get himself a christmas gift. And that christmas Santa needed new pants. Do you know how many obstacles some people have in their chimneys?«
Their children shook their heads.
»Well Santa knows, because he ripped his pants. And when he wasn’t a good Santa that year, he didn’t get his new pants and he had to go like this.«
»But that’s not Santa, it’s Uncle Thatch,« their youngest deadpanned.
Marcos eyes glanced across the room, nervous. »Yeah, no. Sure. Of course.« He laughed to buy himself some time. »It’s um, it’s a story we grown ups tell amongst ourselves. To remain humble and make sure we don't forget save money to buy pants. Anywho your Uncle wanted to pay homage to that story.«
Ace nodded his head, the corners of his lips dragging down as he tried to suppress an open grin. Instead making an impressed face, giving Marco a thumbs up. The story got better.
»Do you understand now?«
Their children nodded and Marco felt thankful that Uncle Izou had shot this photo and instead of being in it, because there was no explanation Marco could think of as to why the gifts Santa brought were half naked Uncles. There was a line in what was explainable to children and Izou was on the other side of that.
»But what did Santa do that was so bad?«
Marco groaned lightly under his breath. »He um… ripped his pants. And that’s very naughty. So respect your clothes!«
Their children did not look sold on the story, but Marco seized the opportunity of silence to pull Ace into the kitchen, whispering: »Do you think they bought that?«
»Yeah the younger if we get lucky.«
Ace suddenly broke into a loud and impetuous laughter, shaking his head. »Respect your clothes!«
He leaned back against the counter and laughed, waving his hand through the air as he usually did, when he found something exceptionally funny that at the same time was exceptionally stupid. Normally the reaction whenever Marco tried to be funny.
»Hey, that’s a good moral. A ‘do-not-have-sex-moral’.«
Ace laughed even harder. »Our children are 3 and 6. They don’t need ‘no-sex-morals’.« Gasping for air, he added: »Also I’m not sure disrespecting clothes equals sex…«
»Okay, okay. I’ll go back and tell them to respect all clothes but the ones labeled ‘sexy’.«
»How’s that to help?«
Marco slipped his hands on the exposed warm skin of Ace waist, incapable to resist when the cropped top slid up, as he stretched his tummy leaning back.
»’s gonna help me.«
»Pfft, to do what? Give our children more topics for the therapy we’ll pay them to in 10 years?«
Skin Marco hadn’t touched in a week. Admittedly he didn’t even listen closely to what Ace had said about 10 years. Sounded like it had plenty of time. Marco did not have plenty of time, he just lost a week of touching and kissing. His fingers brushed over the second softest, largest organ the human body had to offer.
The laughter died in Ace throat, as Marco leaned closer, gently starting a kiss so soft he wasn’t sure how he intended to keep it like that, while he felt a disrespect for Ace clothes growing in his pants.
»Dad? Dad?« Their children were watching.
Unwillingly Marco pulled away, turning his head to their six-year-old daughter, Raudona who had spoken. Just to see their 3-year old Celio, stripped of all clothing but his underwear.
»What do you think you’re doing?«
»Respect my clothes.« He jumped happily, his chubby arms raised over his head.
»Yeah, I think this is your problem to solve,« Ace said, planting a small kiss on Marcos lips, and before Marco could help it, slipping from his grip. He could only watched, puzzeled as Ace ran out of the kitchen, childishly giggeling. Then he heard the bedroom door falling shut.
»Ace?« Marco called. He did his best to lay all desperation bare in his tone.
Nothing.
Ace he didn’t answer, because he was busy disrespeting his clothes.
Turning into an unlawful ‘Sexy Pirate’ to make Marco forgive and forget what he’d just left him with to solve on his own.