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"Duncan says we can't go home for another hour," Cassie said, looking up from her phone. They were in a coffee shop, Cassie with some kind of ridiculous syrup-filled drink and a festive gingerbread snowman. Jimmy had gone for his usual - black, medium-sized, boring - and had finished most of it about fifteen minutes ago.
"Any particular reason that Duncan is telling me I can't go into my own house?" Jimmy asked mildly, not expecting an answer. He'd asked a similar question approximately every half an hour all afternoon, since Duncan had turfed them out into the street after lunch with orders not to come back until he'd sent the all-clear.
"Nope," Cassie said, with the kind of secret smile that might suggest she not only knew why they weren't allowed in the house, but that Jimmy was likely going to hate it.
He'd never been one for surprises, and surprises organised by Duncan tended to be of the haphazard and messy kind. There was one particular surprise birthday party for Duncan's ex-wife some years ago that had been blurrily memorable because of the vodka fountain, and one Christmas party where the tree had pretty much collapsed under the weight of a particularly merry guest who'd rather overdone it on Duncan's Christmas punch. Luckily, these party hazards had happened elsewhere and Jimmy had only had to watch them play out, but now Duncan lived with him and whatever was going to happen was going to happen in Jimmy's house.
"Have you got him a Christmas present yet?"
Jimmy fixed his glance on her, gaze narrowing. "Should I have?" He'd picked up a nice bottle of whisky the last time he'd been in Edinburgh, bringing it back up north and hiding it in an old sports bag in the bottom of the wardrobe. It had been slightly more expensive than the bottles he usually brought back, and usually they'd share them, but this time he'd hidden it away and thought that it would do Duncan for Christmas.
"You do live together," Cassie said. She scooped some of the remaining whipped cream out of her mug. "It's only polite."
"You're up to something."
"Don't know what you're talking about." Cassie grinned at him. She had her mother's smile, Fran's wide, easy grin. It was as if Fran had left the best bits of herself behind in Cassie, and sometimes it took his breath away. Together they'd raised this brilliant, beautiful, sarcastic, bright girl, and she'd grown up to be someone he wouldn't ever stop being proud of. All the best bits of him and Duncan were present in her too, her kindness and her joy and her keen eye and her ability to enable Duncan's Christmas surprises.
She finished scooping the cream out of her cup and nodded towards the door. "Let's go to the bookshop."
Jimmy pretended to roll his eyes. The bookshop would take the best part of an hour, if Cassie had her way, which she would. It was Christmas, after all, and it wasn't often Jimmy got to spend uninterrupted time with his daughter. He wasn't going to complain.
Cassie had a pile of books after forty minutes, and Jimmy had already found a book for his dad - a new non-fiction one about shipwrecks in Scarpa Flow that he was fairly sure his dad hadn't read yet - and a thriller for Duncan that looked about as realistic as the others on his shelf, and probably included some kind of improbable psychological crime. He'd paid for them before realising that the thriller wasn't much of a Christmas present, even alongside the whisky from his last work trip. He'd left Cassie trying to decide between three books to step across the street to the woollen shop, where he'd paid rather too much money to buy a grey lambswool scarf to go alongside it. Then, because buying presents for Duncan was making him feel a little… odd, he picked out a pair of Norwegian mittens for Cassie, and slipped back across the road to where Cassie had her final pile of five books.
"Sure you've got enough there?" he asked, trying to pay for her books even as she nudged him out of the way and resolutely handed over her own debit card.
"Nope," she said, flashing him a grin. "And don't think I didn't see you slipping out and coming back with a bag."
"Don't know what you're talking about. Do you think Duncan's going to let us back into our own house yet?"
"It's his house too now, Dad," she said, taking her bag. "And no, we've got another fifteen minutes. We could go and pick up hot chocolates, take them back with us?"
Jimmy cleared his throat. "How about the bakery? They do coffees as well as cake." Almost an hour in the bookshop coinciding with an hour spent thinking about Duncan meant he was more than ready for another cup of coffee.
"Do you think they still do those little Tunnocks teacakes? I used to love them when I was little."
"Worth a try," he said, and after some back and forth, she gave in and let him carry her bag.
They turned up back at the house with cakes for all of them, and a tray of hot chocolate, Jimmy having changed his mind about the coffee at the last minute to avoid Cassie telling him off about how much caffeine he drank. Anyway, it was Christmas, and he wasn't working tomorrow, so he might as well fall asleep in front of the TV tonight. When they got home, Cassie had to text Duncan to see if they were allowed back inside, and only when they'd got a definitive yes did she let them open the front door.
"It's my house, Cass," he complained.
"Our house," she said, with a grin. "All three of us."
Jimmy managed a hmmmm at that, but he couldn't help the way his stomach leapt at that. Our house. Him and Duncan and Cassie. His family.
"Duncan," Cassie called, toeing off her boots, hot chocolate balanced in one hand. "We're home."
"Through here," he said, and Jimmy leaned down to unlace his boots before following Cassie inside. He deposited Cassie's bags on the counter, but kept the knitwear bag in his hand. Both Cassie and Duncan were curious and not to be trusted around bags of presents in the run-up to Christmas, and anyway, Jimmy felt decidedly odd about the scarf he'd picked out for Duncan.
Jimmy had rather expected the house to be in some kind of chaos, but Duncan was on the sofa with a book and a CD on. The place was tidy. Tidier, in fact, than when Jimmy had left to spend the afternoon with Cassie. This was not the messy, chaotic surprise Jimmy had expected on getting home.
"Place is still standing, I see," Jimmy said, for want of something better to say.
"Don't you trust me, Jimmy?" Duncan asked, flashing him a grin as Cassie gave him his hot chocolate.
"About as far as I could throw you," Jimmy said, resolutely ignoring the way that he melted a little every time Duncan smiled at him. He wasn't going to let on, wasn't going to ruin their odd little family with weird, unplanned feelings. "I thought you were organising some kind of surprise?"
Duncan grinned at him again, taking the lid off his hot chocolate so he could lick up a little of the melting cream. "There's dinner in the oven, isn't that surprise enough?"
"You do that most nights of the week."
"Oh really," Cassie said, grinning between them. Jimmy decidedly did not meet her gaze.
"I like to cook. Anyway, that's not what I was doing. The two of you got to spend all afternoon together, with no interruptions, and no work. When was the last time you got to do that?"
Jimmy tilted his chin up. "That was why we couldn't come home?"
"Partly," Duncan said. He smiled, eyes soft. "I wanted to give you both something you couldn't give yourselves. Nice bit of time together. Did you like it?"
Cassie leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "It was lovely," she said. "Even if you did mislead me into thinking you were doing—" she stopped. "It was very kind of you. But next time, you should come too. The three of us."
Duncan glanced at him. His face seemed a little flushed, and for a moment, he seemed uncertain. "Are you sure?"
"Very," Jimmy said, swallowing. "All three of us."
"All right," Duncan said, after a moment. "Okay."
It was definitely too hot in this room, but Jimmy was still wearing his coat, so it was hardly surprising. It wasn't anything to do with his gently changing feelings for Duncan, the closeness that living together alone when Cassie was away at university was naturally bringing about.
And even if it was, it wasn't worth thinking about. It wasn't reciprocated.
"I'm going to take this upstairs," he said, indicating his bag. "Get changed, too." He smiled at Duncan. "It was a good present. A really good present. Thank you." Part of him wanted to do what Cassie had just done; lean in and kiss him his thanks. He swallowed instead.
"Good," Duncan said. "I'm glad." Then, "Dinner will be about an hour."
Upstairs, he tucked his bag into the bottom of the wardrobe, where the whisky stayed hidden in his old sports bag. Then he took off his coat, and peeled off his sweater so he could change into something a bit more comfortable. He chose one in dark navy, so old and worn and soft that it practically melted into his skin.
Then, turning around, he saw — where it definitely, definitely hadn't been before they'd left for town earlier — a sprig of mistletoe pinned to the ceiling by his bedroom door.
And Duncan, leaning up against his door frame, deceptively casual, and obviously nervous.
"That wasn't there before," Jimmy said, nodding at the mistletoe.
"No," Duncan agreed. "It wasn't." He paused, then went on. "It doesn't have to be there now, if you don't want it to be. It's the kind of surprise we can forget ever almost happened, if you'd prefer."
"You're a very kind man, Duncan."
"That's a very nice way to say no." Duncan tried for a smile, but only managed about half of one.
"No," Jimmy said, hands sweating and heart beating fast. "It's actually a very shy way of saying yes."
"Oh," Duncan said.
Jimmy — buoyed up by some kind of incredulous, ridiculous joy at the sudden and beautiful realisation that his quiet, very secret feelings were actually reciprocated — reached for him, pulling him into his room and cupping his face in his hands.
"Thank fuck," Duncan breathed, and kissed him.
Jimmy, breathless, kissed him back.
~*~
"If you two have quite finished," Cassie called up the stairs a while later. "The oven timer's going off and it's driving me mad."
Duncan, flushed from kissing, laughed into Jimmy's mouth.
"Duty calls," he said, and Jimmy — happy, warm, and content — smiled.