Sting and Ryos spend their first Christmas with their foster son, Noah, and end up with some big news for their family.

This takes place ten years after 'let's hear it for the boy' and three years before 'we are unbreakable.' 

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"Okay, little man, I know you can do it."

Sting crouched down on the floor, hands out in front of him, wide smile directed at the little blond boy who stared at him seriously from a foot or so away. The boy's chubby fingers were curled tightly around Ryos', and he wobbled unsteadily on the carpet.

"C'mon, Noah," Sting said softly, beckoning with both hands. "C'mere."

Noah frowned, and for a second Sting thought he might start crying, but then he looked up at Ryos and took an uncertain step forward.

"There you go!" Sting grinned as Ryos wriggled one finger out of Noah's grasp, encouraging him to move forward on his own.

Noah took a small step, then another, and when Ryos finally pried his other finger from Noah's grasp, Noah stumbled forward for a second on his own before tumbling into Sting's arms.

"Good job, buddy!" Sting said, pecking Noah on the cheek and brushing the blond curls out of his face. "Pretty soon you're gonna be tearing around here like a little tornado, making messes everywhere, huh?"

"Mess," Noah agreed, pressing his sticky hands against Sting's cheeks. He reached for Sting's earring, but Sting moved his fingers away gently, then stood up and shifted Noah to his hip.

"Mess, indeed," he said as Ryos moved over and wrapped an arm around Sting's waist. "Isn't that right, Ryos?"

"Always," Ryos said seriously, and a smile quirked at the corner of his lips as Noah giggled and buried his face in Sting's neck. The sound sent a warm flush through Sting and he hugged Noah tightly. It had taken so long to get him to laugh – four months ago, at his second birthday party, he'd smiled at Natsu for the first time since Ryos and Sting had started fostering him.

"He's very taken with you," Ryos said, kissing Sting on the cheek and brushing his fingers through Noah's hair.

"Feeling's mutual," Sting said, kissing Noah's head.

"He even looks like you," Ryos murmured, then covered up a yawn.

"We are very handsome, aren't we?" Sting teased, laughing when Ryos pinched him. "Oi," he says, turning and kissing Ryos. "You're handsome too, promise."

Ryos rolled his eyes. "Well, I think this handsome little boy needs to take a bath," he said. Noah pouted as Ryos tugged at his t-shirt that was stained with spaghetti and chocolate milk.

Sting grinned, taking Noah under the arms and lifting him up above his head. "You hear that, bumblebee?" he asked, scrunching up his nose at Noah, who squealed with glee as Sting tossed him up in the air. "Let's get your stinky little butt into the bath."

~

Nearly an hour of giggling and splashing later, Sting had Noah wrestled into his pajamas and sitting next to the pile of books that never seemed to end up back on the shelf. Noah grabbed one of them and held it up expectantly.

"'Little Yellow Bee,' huh?" Sting said, scooping up Noah and the book and settling into the rocking chair. Noah yawned, curling up and resting his head on Sting's chest. Sting kissed the top of his head, then opened the book. "'The garden is full of colors to see... greens, reds, and purples, and...'"

"Bee!" Noah exclaimed, pointing at the picture.

"That's right," Sting said. "What color's the bee?"

Noah frowned at the picture for a moment, then brightened and answered, "that."

Sting laughed and flipped the page. He knew the speech therapist was concerned about Noah's lack of vocabulary – by two, he should know more than the twenty or so words that he could say. Sting tried not to worry about it, though. Noah had enough trauma to work through that learning colors wasn't high on his list of priorities.

As soon as the book was done Noah grabbed another one – a toddler version of 'The Night Before Christmas.' "Are you excited for Christmas tomorrow?" Sting asked when they were done reading it. Noah frowned. "We're going to my mom and dad's house, remember?"

Noah nodded uncertainly. He still wasn't completely comfortable around Sting's parents.

"Gray and Natsu are going to be there," Sting added, and Noah immediately brightened, touching his hair in the gesture they'd come to recognize as his way of referring to Natsu. "That's right, I'm sure he'll play with you all afternoon. And my dad told me there would be cookies."

Noah sat up in Sting's lap suddenly, expression serious. "What's up?" Sting asked, running his fingers through Noah's damp curls. "You wanna go say goodnight to Ryos?"

Noah nodded, then looked at Sting curiously again before touching his chest and asking, "Daddy?"

Sting sighed. "Your dad's..." He hesitated, uncertain how to explain to Noah that his biological father was in prison. Noah hadn't seen him in over a year, and even once he was out of jail, Garret wasn't allowed anywhere near Noah. Sting was surprised Noah even remembered him. "He can't come for Christmas, I'm sorry sweetheart."

Noah shook his head, frowning. He put both hands on Sting's chest and pushed him gently, then repeated, "Daddy."

Sting froze and stared down at Noah, whose bright blue eyes were wide and serious. "Daddy," Noah said again.

"Oh, bumblebee," Sting whispered, wrapping both arms around Noah and holding him tight.

He could already feel tears welling up in his eyes – he and Ryos had talked for a long time about what Noah would call them, especially once they'd decided to go ahead with the adoption. They'd both agreed to let him choose, but had introduced the concepts of 'Daddy' and 'Papa.' So far, he'd preferred to just point at them.

"Yeah, buddy," Sting whispered, wiping at the tears that were spilling down his face now. "I'm Daddy." He kissed Noah's forehead, letting out a wet, emotional laugh that had Noah looking up at him with concern.

"Sad?" Noah asked, and Sting shook his head.

"No, sometimes we cry when we're happy, remember?" Sting managed, sniffling and rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm happy, promise."

"'kay," Noah said.

"What's wrong?" Ryos appeared in the bedroom doorway, face drawn in concern when he saw Sting's teary face. "What happened?" He moved over and knelt down next to the rocking chair, running his hand over Sting's knee and up Noah's back.

"Nothing," Sting mumbled, still unable to stop crying. "'s fine, 'm just being ridiculous, he just—"

"Daddy!" Noah said brightly, pointing to Sting and giving Ryos a shy smile. Ryos' expression flipped from concerned to adoring, and he gripped Sting's hand tightly. Noah reached out for Ryos, grabbing his arm and asking, "Pa?"

Ryos' eyes widened, and Sting felt somewhat better about the messy tear tracks on his own cheeks when he saw Ryos start to cry too.

"Yeah," Ryos said softly as Noah patted his hand. "Yeah, Papa."

"Daddy, Papa," Noah announced, then yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

"We love you so much, sweetheart," Sting said softly. Those two tiny words made everything worth it – the sleepless nights, struggles with the speech therapist, Noah's nightmares and meltdowns and angry frustration.

Noah reached out toward the crib and Sting stood up, pressing one last kiss to Noah's cheek before settling him down in bed. Ryos scooped up a small stuffed dragon from its hiding spot under the bed and handed it to Noah, who made a pleased sound and closed his eyes.

"Good night, my love," Ryos said as they both backed out of the room and turned off the lights. "Sweet dreams."

~

As soon as they were down the stairs, Sting let out a shaky breath and blinked hard, trying to stem the tears that were still falling. "God, I don't even know why I'm crying," he said.

"'cause you always cry when you're happy," Ryos said, pulling Sting close and kissing his temple. "You're so good with him. I love watching you be a dad, you're amazing."

"That's not helping me stop crying," Sting mumbled into Ryos' shoulder. Ryos laughed gently, running his hand up and down Sting's back.

"You don't have to stop," he said. "It's a lot to feel."

Sting sighed, wrapping his arms around Ryos' waist. "I love him so much," he said. "I never thought... I didn't know it could be like this. I just want to be everything for him, I want to give him all the things he didn't have before."

"You are," Ryos reassured him. "He's safe now, and loved, and happy."

"I know, I just think about... sometimes..." A memory of the first time they'd met Noah surfaced in Sting's mind. Noah had refused to look at either of them and had spent most of the time curled up in the corner of the social worker's room against the wall. After several meetings Sting had been able to convince Noah to sit next to him while they read a book, but it had taken nearly a month for Noah to let either of them touch him.

"I know," Ryos said, and Sting could hear the edge of tears in his voice, too. "He went through so much, and it was so unfair. But think about how much he's changed with us. He's happy now – he laughs and plays with you, and he's starting to walk, and he's going to be okay. We all are."

Sting nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He pulled back from Ryos, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

"We're good parents," he said, grabbing Ryos' hands and squeezing.

"We are." Ryos leaned in and kissed Sting's nose, then turned and nodded at the stockings that were laid out on the back of the couch. Lillian, Sting's mom, had made the ones for Sting and Ryos, but Sting had taught himself to sew in order to make one for Noah – bright red and white stripes with his name in large letters across it.

"C'mon," Ryos said, pulling Sting toward the couch. "It's Noah's first real Christmas – let's make it the best one we can."