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"Driving home for Christmas, we can wait to see some faces!" Krister sang, tapping the wheel with his paw.

Flink peeped sideways at the carolling malamute. In the shimmer of passing headlamps he let his gaze rest on Krister's blunt muzzle, his slight frown of concentration and the line, barely discernible in this light, where his biscuit colouring gave way to white.

"Talk to towing tiebacks, I got redlight all around!" he continued.

"Krister, that's so horrible. Did you fail English at school?"

"What if I did, smarty husky?" huffed his boyfriend. Flink shook his head, grinning, and pushed his seat back to stretch his legs. Snowbanks higher than a car lined the road, and the studded tyres rumbled on the icy surface.

"So tell me who'll be at your parents' place today?" Krister asked.

"You know already - I've told you a dozen times!" laughed Flink.

"But I like it when you tell me," said Krister, sounding like a child.

"My mum and dad and my brother Berg," Flink began, counting them off on his fingers. "My sister Ylva, her husband Albin and their little boy, Matsi. Then my Mormor."

"Your mother's mother...good, good, great!" Krister nodded.

"And my mum's family are...?"

"Vallhunds," Krister replied, naming the diminutive shepherd breed from the south, "and that's why you're such a tiny husky!"

Flink ignored this. "It's going to be a madhouse," he warned.

"I like madhouses."

"This is wrong, you know," Flink said. "You're the one who should be nervous about meeting my family for the first time, and I should be reassuring you."

"Why would I be nervous?" asked Krister. "You love your family, and you're lovely, so they must be lovely also." He dropped his paw as if to change gear, but instead he squeezed Flink's knee. The husky felt all the fur on his inner thigh stand up under his jeans at the touch. "You're not worried about me meeting them, are you?"

Flink considered. He'd had boyfriends before, but this would be the first time he'd brought someone home for Christmas. He was anxious, yes. Every family's Christmas was different - what if Krister felt left out, or thought their traditions were silly? His parents and Mormor often went a bit nuts over Christmas shopping - would they have bought presents for Krister too, or would the malamute sit with nothing to do while Flink and the others were still ripping off the paper? Krister was quiet at the best of times; he might not get a word in edgeways with Berg and Ylva babbling on. They might think their brother's boyfriend was stand-offish.

He remembered how resentful and jealous he'd been as a teenager when Ylva first brought Albin to stay. Then they got married, and three years ago Matsi had arrived. Flink was no longer the youngest member of his family, and that had been weird, but Christmas hadn't been spoiled by the change; it had got better.

"Of course not," he said. "You're going to love them and they're going to love you." And I love you too, he added silently. One of Krister's ears flicked, as if he'd caught the unspoken sentence. Then the malamute started singing again - a song which existed in his vocabulary as 'War King in a Winter Wander Land' - and this time Flink joined in.

*

"Left - not that left, this left! Left! Sorry, Krister, sorry," Flink added as Krister's ears went flat. "The house at the end, with the blue door. Look, there's a candle in the window!"

"To guide the lost lambs home," Krister said, putting the handbrake on. Flink had already undone his seatbelt and opened the passenger door, eager to rush indoors, but Krister put his paw on the husky's shoulder and leaned across for a kiss. Flink took his ruff in both paws and pulled him close, opening his muzzle to lick at Krister's lips and teeth. The snowy street was quiet, the stars bright overhead, and Flink didn't want this last moment of peace to end.

The blue door opened, flooding them with light, and they sprang apart. Before Krister could move, two dogs who could only be Flink's father and brother had opened the boot and were lifting out suitcases and bags, while Flink embraced a vallhund wearing an apron.

"Uncle Flink!" yelled a fluffy white puppy, round as a ball, flinging his arms around Flink's knees.

"Matsi, I don't want you out here without your snowsuit!" called a grey-and-white husky, chasing after him. "You're honoured, Flink, he tore himself away from the cartoons for you!"

Krister got out of the car and leaned on the bonnet, letting it all wash over him. At last, a samoyed almost as white as the snow at their feet walked across and held out his paw.

"You must be Krister," he said. "I'm Albin, Flink's brother-in-law. It's always a little crazy around here at Christmas."

"How long have you been coming?" They shook paws.

"Ten years! I'm a veteran of the Andersson Christmas! Come in and get some coffee."

Soon everyone was squashed into the living-room, drinking coffee and eating thin, crisp gingerbread stars. Krister and Flink occupied one sofa, Flink's parents and grandmother the other, although his mother kept getting up to fetch things. Ylva and Albin had armchairs while Flink's brother Berg sat on the floor.

"These are pretty," Krister said, holding up his biscuit. "I wonder who made them?"

"I did!" Matsi announced from his mother's lap, and Ylva smiled across at the malamute. Her eyes were a brighter blue than Flink's, her fur was grey instead of black and her mask closed where his was open, yet they were obviously related. Berg, on the other hand, was stockier and shorter than his siblings, with a reddish coat from his father but the smaller build and stubby legs of his mother and grandmother.

"He cut them all out," Ylva said, "and he disposed of the leftovers very tidily too!" Matsi patted his tummy and chuckled, getting the joke.

Berg's eyes were fixed on the plasma-screen TV. "Remember watching this cartoon on Christmas Eve when we were kids?" he asked.

"Oh, I remember," said his father. "I remember when Berg decided he was too old for children's shows and Ylva decided she was too intellectual, but they generously kept on watching it for Flink's sake!" He ruffled the fur between Berg's ears.

Flink's Mormor, whose muzzle was white with age, hadn't spoken since saying hello to the new arrivals, but her eyes twinkled as she looked from one family member to another. Towards the end of the cartoon she slipped from her seat and out of the room.

A few minutes later, there was a loud knock on the living-room door.

"Oh! Who could that be?" asked Flink's father, his tail wagging frantically. His wife put her paw on the tip to still it.

"I don't know, dear. Come in!" she called.

The door opened and a strange, small figure entered the room. It wore a grey woollen jacket and a pointed red hat, and two kind, bright eyes peeked out from behind a curly white beard that hid its face completely.

"Oh wow, a Christmas tomte! I thought they'd gone extinct!" Krister said, putting his arm around Flink.

"Only the best families have them these days," Flink informed him.

"Funny how he looks a bit like your grandmother."

That was when Flink's mother came up behind them, grabbed a scruff in each paw, and shook gently.

"Bad boys!" she scolded. "Not in front of Matsi!"

The round little puppy was too enthralled to pay any attention, however, as the tomte handed round presents from his sack. When the bag was empty and everyone had a pile of wrapped and glittering shapes in front of them, the gnome bowed, patted Matsi's head, winked at Krister, and jogged out.

Flink needn't have worried about Krister not getting as many presents as everyone else. His mother seemed to have bought every book and CD from Flink's list of suggestions, and Mormor had included Krister in her Christmas knitting, making him a red scarf he now wore proudly. Flink watched him as he knelt on the floor helping Matsi build his new blocks into a tower. His boyfriend was a head taller than anyone else in the room, with a body toned by fresh air and exercise under his soft, buff-coloured hair, but what the husky noticed was how gently and unselfconsciously Krister played with his nephew. He nudged the malamute with his ankle and trailed his fingers through the pale, plushy fur of his head.

"Hey, you," Krister said softly, sitting up and taking hold of Flink's paw.

"Hey you back," Flink replied. "Want to open your present?"

He brought a parcel out from under the sofa, and smirked as Krister unwrapped a sat-nav. "Now you won't have to listen to my directions any more!"

"Oh, a gadget. You'll have to show me how to use it," Krister grinned. His present for Flink was a wind-up charger, "so you can play with all your games and phones and iPods when we're out in the wilderness. Wait, what have I done? I must be crazy!"

They were both bent over the sat-nav, trying to charge it with Flink's charger, when Mormor called everyone in to dinner.

The centrepiece of the Christmas Eve Julbord in the Andersson household was always a whole baked salmon. Flink put a generous slab on a plate and passed it to Krister, knowing the malamute would be too polite to hold his own in the family free-for-all. He slapped a second portion onto his own plate and loaded the remaining space with sausages, meatballs, rollmops, potatoes and cabbage.

After the meal there were board games and a carol concert on the radio. When everyone was sleepy, full of sweet mulled wine and bitter snaps, Flink's mother unfolded the living-room sofa into a bed and made it up with fresh sheets. Little Matsi was sleeping in Flink's old room, in the top bunk, with Berg below him.

The stove in the centre of the room had gone out, but it still glowed with warmth. Krister, who was always hot, slept naked; Flink was wearing new Christmas pyjamas patterned with snowflakes.

"That was a nice day," Flink said, snuggling up against Krister.

"Certainly was. I can't remember the last time I watched that cartoon on Christmas Eve."

Flink poked him in the tummy.

"Ow! No! Too much cake!"

The husky curled himself up with his back against Krister, and tilted his head so it rested on the malamute's chest. "When we were washing up, Ylva said that Matsi had asked if he could call you Uncle Krister." He waited for Krister's reaction.

"Wow," the malamute said. Flink could feel him wagging his tail, so he continued "She told him that would be fine."

Krister licked the tip of Flink's nose. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Church in the morning, then we usually have some of the neighbours round for coffee and cake. After that, there's a choice: cross-country skiing with Berg and Albin, sledging with Matsi, or snowshoeing with Mum and Dad. Which do you fancy?"

"All of them!" Krister's teeth glinted in the dark. "What are you going to do?"

"Stay indoors and play computer games with Mormor."

"Your grandmother plays computer games?"

"Like a demon!"

Krister slung his arm across Flink's hip. The husky shifted, letting Krister's paw come to rest between his legs. He wriggled up against Krister and clenched his thighs. Krister nipped gently at his neck, then rested his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Flink...thank you. Thanks for sharing all this. You might as well know that we won't be spending Christmas together with my family any time soon."

"I kind of guessed." Flink reached for the malamute's muzzle on his shoulder, squeezed it. "Well, you're part of this family now."

"I'll try and be a good uncle to Matsi," Krister said mock-solemnly, but he hugged Flink so hard the husky could hardly breathe.

"Mum!" they heard from upstairs. "Mum, I'm thirsty!"

"You could start now," suggested Flink. Krister rolled him onto his back and lay on top of him, trapping the husky beneath the thick fur of his chest.

"I'll start being a good uncle in the morning," he promised. "Right now I'm busy being a good boyfriend." He knelt astride Flink and ducked under the bedclothes.

"Hey - oh! Oh!"

A few minutes later, Krister lifted his head up. "Merry Christmas, Flink."

Flink couldn't speak, so he just smiled.