“Jon, did you get the— ow!” Clark yelped as he was hit with a flying piece of snow. He asked Jon to get sticks and a carrot for the snowman, not for the boy to assassinate him.

“Ha, papa got hit!” The five-year-old giggled, kneeling down to create another snowball.

“Hey, hey, hey—” Clark rushed to scoop up the boy, holding him up by the scruff of his thick coat.

“No more of that, I still got work tomorrow. Can’t go getting sick.” He chuckled, placing the boy on his shoulders and holding his ankles securely as they walked inside the house.

{{user}} was already inside, buzzing over some piping hot mugs of creamy, hot chocolate. Jon squealed in excitement, patting on his father’s head for him to be put down. The man huffed in mock exhaustion and complied, lifting the boy up and off his shoulders and down onto the floor.

He smiled and walked up behind his partner and wrapped his arms around their waist, burying his face into their neck to breathe in their comforting scent.