ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 15

'

Christmas Card from Clark and Lex
by MadByrd

CLARK/LEX

Title: The Halo
Author:: Lady Angel
Disclaimers: Not mine, etc.
Rating: R for language
Archive: Advent Calender
Feedback: Just like the best Xmas present I ever got!
Author's Notes: Futurefic and inspired by this quote: "But that only seems like a good idea to the part of his brain that's mapped out every direct sight-line to the girls' locker room, and sometimes spends quality time thinking about setting Lionel's hair on fire." -- Clark in Te's "Freud"
And thanks to philtre for the beta!

THE HALO

"Lex, it's not funny." Clark nudged his lover with a booted foot, carefully steering Lex away from the pile of Christmas presents.

"I . . . oh . . . GOD! His hair . . . " Lex just couldn't stop laughing. The man was literally on the floor, curled into a ball, laughing.

"Did. . . did you . . . " Jonathan wheezed, sucking in lungfuls of air only to laugh them out again, "see hi-his face?"

Lex jerked his head, tears streaming down his face, hands shakily framing his own bald head. "Whoosh!"

That just set Jon off again as he fell down.

"And the p-p-plum p-pudding!" Lex cackled.

"All over his face!" Jon guffawed, the mental image setting both of them off . . . again.

"Will the two of you quit, already?" Clark glared at the two most important men in his life, praying that *another* accident didn't occur.

Lex finally calmed, pushing himself off the floor. Jon, likewise, was also sobering. Both men tried to smile at Clark, carefully avoiding each others' eyes.

"You know, Lex, you should tell your father to be more careful where he stands especially if he insists on using real candles on the tree," Jon advise seriously. "Long hair and candlesticks just don't work well together."

"Yes, sir." Lex cleared his throat. "I'm just glad Clark . . . and the pudding . . . were there to save the day." He smiled at his lover, lips twitching when he glanced over at his father-in-law stating, in a ringmaster's voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Lionel Luthor and the Amazing F-fla-ming Halo of Death!"

Jon couldn't breathe after that.

Clark growled, then turned a pleading face to the only other non-laughing person in the room. "Mom--"

Who promptly ran from the room, hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

"Goddamnit!"

The End

CLARK/LEX

Author: mdl
RATING: PG-13
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Beta: Elegantly done by MeLi
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: montddlaw@aol.com

WAITING ON CHRISTMAS, TOO

Clark lay cradled in his hammock, surrounded by silence and his childhood. The scattered piles of books and CD's screamed out his youth and lack of sophistication. Dr. Seuss, Goosebumps and Tom Clancy for teens, nothing complicated, nothing with difficult ideas or hard words. The CD's were all alt-rock crap, with a little hip-hop, perfect prepackaged danger and teen angst, pap for mooks and baby-sluts. False edges and manufactured anger cleanly shrink wrapped for the priviledged children of the western middle class. As he lay in the hammock, head wrapped in the first quilt his mother ever made him, rubbing his cheek with the faded arm of a terrycloth Pooh Bear, Clark wondered if it could be any worse. If he could be any younger, any dumber, any less worthy of Lex Luthor.

He cursed himself for his impulsive behavior. Why had he chosen this shrine to his youth and inexperience to tell Lex the truth? He could have made his confession in one of Lex's cars, at the castle or in a field of fucking corn and it would have been better than here. But two days ago, with Lex teasing him about the pros and cons of Chloe over Lana, Clark couldn't take it any more. When Lex feinted towards him to slap the back of his head, Clark grabbed Lex by the wrist and pulled the older boy onto his lap. Lex didn't struggle or protest, he just went perfectly still.

Clark new about snakes before they struck and storms before they hit; but with Lex's ass pressed into his lap, he missed the clear warning. He pressed his forehead against the side of Lex's head and whispered in his ear. Whispered all the things that had been insidde him since the day on the bridge. Clark licked confusion and need and love into the shell of Lex's ear and savored the slow ache of his dick as it hardened under the weight of repression, lies and Lex.

For one joyful moment Clark thought it had worked. Lex had shifted to straddle him, put his hands in Clark's hair, leaned in and devoured Clark's mouth. For a hundred heartbeats, Lex had kissed him, sucking his tongue, caressing his soul, moving the ache in Clark's groin into his chest. Lex drank the noises Clark was making like he drank brandy and scotch, slowly savoring the taste, letting the sound fill his mouth and slip down his throat. Clark could feel Lex's hardness against his stomach and he needed to do more than kiss Lex. He needed to touch him, lick him, fill him, make Lex happy.

Then Lex drew back, put his hand on Clark's shoulders and looked into his eyes. A hundred heartbeats of happiness and then reality, because Lex's eyes were cold. Like glaciers or frozen milk or the coldest of the cold things in the most distant part of the galaxy, Lex's gaze froze time and Clark and himself.

Then Lex laughed and it was cold too. He laughed and began to rock on Clark's lap. Apparently the only insulated thing Clark had was his dick, because the feel of Lex's cock scraping over his created a spike of heat he couldn't resist. He began to arch up into Lex, who pushed down, his hands on Clark's chest clawing at his shirt, finding his nipples, pinching and tugging, spreading heat, inflaming. The cold wasn't gone, though. It burned in Lex's eyes, dripped out of his mouth into Clark's ear. Poison words about teenage hormones and half-truth's and second choices filled Clark, and he tried to struggle, tried to push Lex away and make him understand that it was not anything like that. But all the steel in him was between his thighs and he couldn't stop rocking. He couldn't muster his strength against the feeling. He tried to move his hands to touch Lex, to make him understand how much this was, the truth of what it meant; he tried to struggle against the cold and the heat and Lex's pain. All he could do was come.

While he was shaking and trying to move, Lex stood up, stepped back and ran his hand over his slightly rumpled shirt. Clark could see Lex's cock was still hard, but everything else was anything but cold as he stared down at the disheveled, juddering mess on the couch before him.

"Merry Christmas, Clark," was all Lex said. Then he turned like a knife in soft flesh and left Clark, sticky, sick and alone.

By the time Clark located his sanity, cleaned his body and changed his clothes, Lex was gone. His mother and father were at the castle helping Lionel place some old Christmas decorations and the staff was muscling the largest Christmas tree Clark had ever seen into the great hall. Eavesdropping, he discovered that Lex had had a huge argument with his father and left, likely taking the Luthor Corp plane to London.

So Clark was alone in his hammock, with his blankie and his bear, lamenting his lack of sophistication, wondering what exactly he should do. He couldn't run to London, but maybe he could swim. Or should he just wait? Lex would surely be back at some point; obviously Lionel was expecting him, or why the huge tree. And when he found Lex, what would he do? Try again to make Lex understand how badly Clark needed him, pretend nothing had happened between them, force Lex to admit that he wanted Clark just as badly, that he needed Clark to show him how to love another person.

Clark was pretty sure Lex's reaction was fear, not anger or disgust. He just had no idea where the fear was coming from or how to make it go away. No clue how to get Lex to let go of his iron control and let Clark love him. No one who could advise him, give him strategies, help him make a plan that would convince Lex to admit he loved Clark back.

Inactivity was foreign to him, but he had no choice. Clark would wait for Lex to come back and find some way to make him understand. Pandora's box was open and the truth was loose. Surely Lex would not be able to ignore it. Clark had shown Lex the possibility of happiness, now all he had to do was wait.

END´

HARRY/SNAPE

TITLE: Photo Manipulation
AUTHOR: Eledhwen
PAIRING: SS/HP
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: angel_eledhwen@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: JKR’s, not mine.
SUMMARY: The story behind the photo in ‘Silver Lining’
NOTES: December 15^th entry for the Slash Advent Calendar http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
ARCHIVE: Anyone who wants it, just ask.

PHOTO MANIPULATION

A few weeks before the start of the Christmas holidays, Harry was searching for his last clean white shirt. Having gone through his own wardrobe in a vain hunt for it, he was currently in the process of looking through Sev’s. While his lover of the last almost-year was famously territorial in regards to his personal space, Harry wasn’t prepared to appear in the Great Hall bare-chested. He’d much rather take his chances with Sev than experience the sensation that would cause.

Harry muttered to himself as he examined Sev’s clothing. “Black robe, black trousers, black waistcoat, another black robe. Ooh! White shirt. Not mine. Darn. Drawers maybe?” Underwear (black), socks (black), shoes (black), ice skates (black and silver).

Ice skates? A puzzled frown crossed his face as he tried to figure out why on earth Sev owned a pair of ice skates. He continued to go through the contents of Sev’s drawers with fading hope as he pondered.

“Looking for something, Harry?” Damn, busted.

‘You’re not supposed to be back until lunchtime!’ thought Harry indignantly.

“Uh. Yes?” he replied, beginning to edge towards the door, ready to bolt for safety if it became necessary.

“And what might that be?”

“My, erm, my white shirt?”

“And why would it be in my wardrobe if it is your shirt?”

“Well, a… a mistake?”

Harry was treated to the eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Yes.”

“I assume you have looked on the bed with the rest of your clothing, for example?”

“Erm…” Harry looked over. Oops. “Sorry?”

“I should hope you are.”

Oh good. Sev was in a relatively decent mood, or Harry would have been quite dead by this point. “Um, question?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you have a pair of ice skates?”

“Why would anyone have a pair of ice skates?”

“You mean you know how to skate?”

“Don’t you?”

“Actually, no.”

“Hmm.”

That tone was generally a very bad – or very good – omen.

***

Christmas Day. Harry woke Sev early with a thorough kiss, and laughed at the half-awake glare he was gifted in return.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

“I would find it far merrier if you’d let me sleep in peace. Damned Muggle holidays.” Sev grumbled quite charmingly, Harry thought.

Harry pouted.

“Fine. Merry Christmas to you too. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Prove it.”

***

A while later, finally showered and dressed, they made it to the living room. Harry had managed to persuade Sev to let them have one small Christmas tree in their rooms. He counted it a victory and decided to try for more next year. Decorating it had been an extremely interesting experience. Tinsel, it turned out, had uses other than merely as Christmas decoration.

“Well?”

Harry gave Sev a questioning look.

“Your lack of observational skills never fails to amaze me.”

Harry spotted the green and silver wrapped box under the tree. “Oh.”

Sev rolled his eyes. Harry kissed him. He hadn’t actually expected anything from Sev, even if they had been living together for the last three months. When he finally broke away, he spoke.

“There’s something for you too.”

“I know.”

Harry was deeply amused by the way Sev tore into his present. He would have pegged his lover as the type to unwrap it meticulously and quite probably re-use the paper, but apparently it was not so. Eventually, from the layers of packaging, he managed to uncover a smallish circular object with various wires dangling off it and looked at in bemusement.

“Very… interesting.”

“It’s a Discman – a CD player.”

“See… dee… player?”

Harry fought with and beat back a smile. “It plays music from those little silvery discs – CDs. I’ll show you how to use it later.” He’d discovered early on that Sev was deeply fond of music and had decided it was time to introduce him to more modern Muggle music. Of course there were a few classical recordings in the selection he’d included as well.

“Ah.” A pause, then a slightly unsure “Thank you.”

From his own parcel, Harry extracted a white cardboard box. Lifting off the lid, he found a pair of admittedly rather handsome ice-skates. A shiver of apprehension went down his spine as he realised what Sev had in mind.

“They’re… very nice.”

Sev demonstrated a positively satanic smile involving an inordinate number of teeth. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind soon.”

He was quite convinced he would.

***

Harry tried not to think of what the students would say if they were to see them – their severe, sombre Potions master attempting to teach their Charms professor how to ice-skate. Thankfully there weren’t many students at the school over Christmas this year, and the few that were had better sense than to be out looking at the frozen-over lake. A very good thing too. Harry knew he’d never hear the last of it if they saw him now – completely dishevelled, falling on his arse every few minutes with Sev smirking at his failure in that incredibly irritating manner of his.

“Try again, Harry.”

“For goodness sake Sev, would you get out of teaching mode for just a little while and give me some sympathy?”

“Perhaps you have me confused with someone else. Sympathy is not my forte.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Harry stuck his tongue out childishly and refused to get up until he got some pity. Sev sighed dramatically and glided elegantly over on his skates. The damned man looked even better on them than he did sweeping through the Hogwarts corridors in his robes.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Yes,” replied Harry, with extreme emphasis. Sev offered him a hand up. Harry decided that was all the sympathy he was going to get and took it.

“You do know that I’m not going to let you go back inside until you can skate, don’t you?”

Harry sighed. “There’s got to be a spell or something to make it easier.”

That evil smile again. “Actually, no.”

Harry growled.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back on the ice.

***

“Owie. Ow ow,” Harry proclaimed vehemently as he limped gingerly down the stairs to the dungeon.

“Oh, stop being such a baby.”

“Sev, I have bruises in places I didn’t even know I had. Not even the last battle against Voldemort left me in this much pain. Don’t you dare accuse me of being a baby.”

“Look on the bright side – now you can skate a little.”

“Oooh. Impressive. I can skate a whole three inches without falling over. Excuse me while I go shout the joyous news from the rooftops. Maybe I should even tell the Daily Prophet. It’s sure to be headline news.” He added another ‘ow’ for emphasis and had the realisation that Sev was definitely a bad influence.

“Oh.” Sev was wearing the expression he had when he came across a particularly interesting problem, the one that boded ill for the problem in question. “If you’re not satisfied with your progress, I’m sure I can fit in another lesson tomorrow.”

Damn.

***

Boxing Day. Also, as it happened, a year since they’d gotten together. This morning Harry woke Sev with a kiss and a “Happy Anniversary”.

Sev gave him the patented ‘Stop being such a sentimental fool, Harry’ look.

Harry sulked, and Sev relented. It was getting to be a daily routine.

“Want me to show you how to use the Discman?”

“I seem to remember promising to give you another skating lesson.”

“Oh well, you know, I don’t mind.”

“Now Harry, I know I told you that I always keep my promises.”

Well, it had been worth a try.

***

Harry was so engrossed in attempting to master his skates that he didn’t even notice the figure creeping cautiously out of the trees to one side of the lake. Severus, standing opposite Harry a short distance away, was similarly absorbed in watching his progress and so was unusually unobservant. Just as Harry managed to skate, unaided, the distance they’d decided on and collapsed, laughing and victorious, into Severus’ arms, they were shocked by the flash of a camera bulb.

“Perfect!” came a voice Harry recognised, and he freed himself from Sev’s arms, turning to face the holder of the camera who was smiling faintly sheepishly.

“Colin! What are you doing back here?”

“I was working yesterday, so I thought I’d come and surprise Kath because I’m free today.” Kathleen Edwards was Colin’s fiancée and the new flying instructor at Hogwarts, recruited when Madam Hooch, of all people, had turned out to be a supporter of Voldemort, although not an active Death Eater.

“Anyway, you two made such a wonderful composition, I couldn’t resist.” It was really no surprise that Colin was now a photographer for the Daily Prophet. “I’ll make a copy for you if you’d like.”

“Please.”

Sev said nothing, which Harry interpreted to mean he didn’t mind the idea. In fact, it was almost certain, since if he had minded, Colin would probably be a gibbering heap about now.

“Great! I’ll owl it to you in a couple of days, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your skating lesson, then. Good luck, Harry! Professor Snape.” Colin nodded and wandered off in the direction of the castle, camera hanging around his neck.

“So was that good enough?”

“Acceptable, I suppose.”

“A little enthusiasm, please? I’ve just about learned to skate in two days!”

Sev leaned closer, seriously invading Harry’s personal space. “Well done, Harry,” he said in a low, intimate tone that really ought to be illegal outside the bedroom. Then he kissed him, in public. Not that there was anyone there, but it was the thought that counted.

“Much better,” said Harry once he’d got his breath back.

***

The photo arrived from Colin a few days later. Harry had it framed and placed it on the centre of the mantelpiece one morning without asking for Sev’s approval. When he returned to the room in the evening, it hadn’t been moved. The photo-Harry waved cheerfully at him, as photo-Sev glowered. Photo-Harry kissed photo-Sev and dragged him off into the trees at the edge of the photo, protesting all the way.

Harry hummed happily to himself as he wandered into the bedroom, wondering absently where all his shirts had gotten to. Maybe it was time to have another look in Sev’s wardrobe. Who knew what he’d find.

END

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: The Sweater or One Size Fits All
Author: Mereridkat/Margaret Newman
RATING: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Disclaimer: I don't own them, though I wish I did. I'm not making any money at this, just enjoying the boys.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Author's note: My thanks to CJM for yet another great beta job! This is done in drabble form - each section is 100 words or less.
Feedback Email address: mereridkat@aol.com

The Sweater or One Size Fits All

What do you get for a person who sees no logic in celebrating a holiday such as Christmas? Amanda had told him that as a child, Spock had enjoyed Christmas. But that was before the training in the ways of logic had begun. That had been when little Spock had laughed and giggled and played like any Human child.

If there was anything that Spock wanted -a journal, a music disc- he had it. His wardrobe was limited but functional as befitted a Vulcan science officer.

"No fuzzy slippers for you." Jim chuckled, tabbing through a catalog.

---

"What do you get for a guy who has everything?" Jim asked Bones as they sat in the doctor's quarters sharing a bottle of Romulan ale. He could still feel his lips but his tongue was starting to go numb.

"A sweater." Bones drawled, leaning way back in his chair.

"A what?" Jim stared at the doctor hard. He was starting to get fuzzy. Or maybe it was his vision?

"Sweater. All purpose, multi-something." He burped, and it rattled the air vents.

"Multi-what?" Jim tried to focus.

"Yeah." Bones waved his glass, sloshing blue liquid across his shirt.

---

"Mistletoe, Mr. Spock." Kirk looked up at the sprig someone had fixed to the entrance of the commissary.

"Indeed, Captain." Spock nodded, eyeing the hemi-parasite.

"You know, there's a tradition on Earth with mistletoe and Christmas." Kirk shot his First Officer a sideways glance.

"Yes, Captain." Spock sighed almost imperceptibly. "Kissing under a cutting of mistletoe is first found associated with the Greek festival of Saturnalia. It was believed to have the power of bestowing fertility upon the couple."

"Really?" Kirk grinned, chuckling.

"You find that amusing?" The First Officer turned to gaze at him narrowly.

"Nope. Not at all."

---

"On the hm-hm day of Christ- <hic> Christmaasss..." Dr. McCoy wandered around the gathering singing carols, drinking, and eating. It was the captain-approved Christmas party. Other holiday parties took place during the year as beliefs and schedules allowed. Jim attended all of them when appropriate, and of course, if he was able.

He had made the rounds, talking to everyone, but now he stood by Spock. He was trying to think of a way to get Spock back to his quarters when the Vulcan said,

"Jim, I require a private discussion with you in my quarters."

---

*Private discussion* Jim turned the words over in his head. *He's going to resign, isn't he? He can't resign! I need him!*

Spock sensed Kirk's unease, and as they walked to his quarters, contemplated what could be distressing his captain. *Perhaps he found the doctor's behavior as dismaying as I.*

They reached Spock's quarters, the door swooshed open.

"So, what's up?" Jim asked, the doors closing behind him. It was warmer in here, and the muted tones made it seem darker.

"As is appropriate for this seasonal observation, I wish to present you with a gift."

"A what?"

---

"It is the reformatted version, complete with original soundtrack." Spock watched as Jim held the vid-disk in his hands, silent. He had expected some type of emotional reaction. "Jim? Have I over-stepped myself?"

"No, god, no, Spock!" He sat up, setting the disk on the table. "I'm stunned. I had no idea that you were getting me something."

"I wished to surprise you." The Vulcan arched an eyebrow. "I see that I have been successful."

"Yes, you have." Jim shook his head. "I wanted to get you something."

"That is not necessary."

"Necessary isn't the point."

---

"I wanted to show you how much you mean to me. But any gift I thought of seemed redundant." Jim said as he looked across the table at Spock.

"Your friendship means more to me than any gift." Spock cocked his head.

"I'm not good with words." He looked up, shrugging a shoulder, grinning. His eyes, however, showed how troubled he felt.

"Your actions prove to me daily how you feel, Jim."

"I imagine you'd rather I didn't feel so strongly about it at all." Jim glanced up again, a smile quirking his lips.

"That is not so."

---

"I feel that... I feel so close to you." Jim sighed, shaking his head. "I'm going to screw this up."

He stood, frustrated with himself. He could sweep a woman off her feet with a few choice words. But when he really needed the ability, it left him. Spock meant more to him than just some quick lay. This was real, this was... permanent.

Well, it could be permanent. It could be more than a friendship. If could just get the damn words out!

"Jim."

He turned to find Spock standing an arm's length away.

---

The Vulcan gazed at him patiently. Those lips that so rarely smiled curved upward gently.

"Humans, I find, will over-emotionalize a situation that is simple and straight forward."

"Really?" Jim croaked.

"We are uniquely suited to each other. I ascertain that you believe the same." Spock explained. "Yet you continually seek female satisfaction when that is not what you need."

His throat had gone dry and suddenly his clothes felt uncomfortable.

"I want you." Jim finally managed to speak. "I've wanted you for a long time."

"Then you shall have me." Spock nodded curtly. "And I, you."

Jim grinned.

---

Spock, it turned out, was an amazing kisser. He had Jim stripped and panting on his bed in record time. The sight of the young Human spread out on his bed made his blood hot. Repressing emotions wasn't the only use for studying and adhering to the laws of logic. The one thing that Humans didn't understand was that Vulcans were highly sexual beings. The mating urge came every seven years. General sexual urges were constant and needed to be contained or they would overwhelm.

Jim reached for his cock, but Spock slapped his hand.

"Mine."

---

He was fully sheathed inside Jim. Muscular legs were draped over his shoulders. When Jim wasn't gasping and shouting out for Spock to, "fucking move already!" he was busy sucking on Spock's tongue.

He decided this was how he liked his captain. The other sides of him were interesting but this... this was how Spock would always prefer him.

"You are mine, James Tiberius Kirk." Spock's voice was deeper, his hair slicked back with sweat. His dark eyes gleamed with sexual need.

"I am, Spock." Jim managed to nod. "I swear it. Now, do me a favor!"

"Yes?"

"MOVE!"

---

"So." McCoy said as he leaned against the captain's chair several days later. He eyed Spock at his station. He knew the Vulcan could hear every word they said. "Jim, what did you get Spock for Christmas?"

"What?" Jim blinked at him rapidly, and he blushed. The randy captain of the Enterprise blushed!

McCoy chuckled. "I told you. A sweater. One size fits all."

"Yes." Jim swallowed. "Right."

"Like your sweater, Spock?" The doctor was enjoying himself immensely.

"Indeed, doctor." Spock turned in his chair. "I find the sweater most... satisfying."

END

SPIKE/XANDER

TITLE: An Unfinished Game
AUTHOR: Maddie Eerie
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
PAIRING: Xander/Spike
SUMMARY: Just a little music to set the mood…

An Unfinished Game
by Maddie Eerie'

“I want to fuck you like an animal.”

Xander narrowed his eyes at the vampire sitting across from him blandly making provocative statements like that. Oh yeah, chipped or not chipped, Spike was definitely evil. But Xander hadn’t lived on the Hellmouth all his life for nothing.

“You and me, baby, ain’t nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel,” he said and smirked as the smug expression on the vampire’s face was wiped away by his brillant response.

“Hell, how does a Patsy Cline-loving wanker like you know that song?!” Spike groused.

Xander rolled his eyes. “Hey, I may like Patsy, but I’m not totally out of touch, okay? That song was all over the radio a couple of years ago.”

Spike muttered something about only know the song because it referenced The X-Files, but Xander ignored him.

“Okay, my turn.” He thought for a moment and then smiled nastily. “She was my lover, she was my life, until I went crazy and I killed her with a knife.”

“Oooh, yer makin’ me all hot singing about knives and killing,” Spike cooed.

“That mean you give up, Blondie?” Xander asked.

“Not Blondie,” Spike grumbled, “don’t bloody care if you ever call me.”

“Ha! Time’s up, Fangboy, take it off.”

Spike sighed exaggeratedly. Then he casually slipped the white wife-beater he’d been wearing off and threw it into the corner of the room that already held their shoes, Spike’s coat, Xander’s flannel shirt, and Xander’s t-shirt. By his reckoning, now that Spike had lost his shirt, they were even. And it was still his turn, since Spike had lost the last round.

“There, fine, hit me again, you tosser.”

Xander thought for a moment and then said, “Get out of here, and get me some money, too.”

“Sounds like something Anya would say,” Spike commented.

“Probably.”

“Right then. Hmmm…. Ah! Money, it’s a gas, grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.”

Xander shook his head – Spike was really good at this game! He was managing to hold his own, but he’d still probably loose. Still, loosing was as good as winning in this game…

Neither of them really “won” in these little games they played. It was just a pretense, like how they insulted each other all the time. Willow called it “macho bullshit bonding.” They just called it a prelude to fucking. Foreplay, sort of. It was a twisted, weird and kind of dorky foreplay, but it fit them. And the sex was great, boy was it great! They fought, they fucked, it was a good bargain all around. Spike was incredibly hot, especially when he was good and riled. Take now, for instance. With the shirt gone, Xander had an unobstructed view of the vampire’s delicious abs. Rrrow. He couldn’t wait to lick those small, hard nipples.

Spike snapped his fingers in front of Xander’s face and Xander blinked out of his reverie.

“Give up then?”

“Erm, yeah, what was the question?” Xander asked, still slightly dazed from his contemplation of the coming activities.

“Am I boring you, luv? ‘Cause I can just go…” Spike started to get up.

“No!”

Spike sat back down and raised an eyebrow. That was Spike’s teasing you’re-being-a-twit look.

“Well then?”

Xander swallowed. “Take off your pants,” he said heavily.

“Hey now, I won this round!”

“Take off your pants right now so I can suck your dick.”

With no further protest, Spike did as he asked and Xander happily got down to the licking. That was another thing about their little games, they seldom ever really finished them.

*******
The End
*******

NOTE: The songs referenced, in order, were:
“Closer” by Nine Inch Nails
“Bad Touch” by The Bloodhound Gang
“Take Me Back” by Single Gun Theory
“Call Me” by Blondie
“Why Don’t You Do Right” by Peggy Lee
“Money” by Pink Floyd

JIM/BLAIR

Title: Twelve Days of Christmas
Author: J. Love
Fandom : The Sentinel
Pairing : Jim/Blair
Rating : PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing the characters of The Sentinel from PetFly Productions.
Warnings: Implied m/m
Summary: my Sentinel version of the X-mas carol
Thank you to RavenclawGrrl, Qwik, Ami and Bruce Alan Wilson for the beta. Any other mistakes found are mine alone.
Feedback would be greatly appreciated. jl_foxy@pris.bc.ca

TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

Blair checked his backpack once more to make sure he didn't forget anything.

"You got everything, Chief?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"How long do you think you will be gone?"

"Shouldn't be more than two weeks. I should be back for Christmas. You still have it off, right?"

"Yes," Jim said.

"Sorry, man, but I couldn't get out of this. Harry covered so many of my classes this fall and he really wanted to spend time with his girlfriend while she's in town."

"I know, it's okay. Where is this trip going again?"

"It's a monastery retreat by San Francisco."

"So no phones, right?"

"Only in an emergency."

"Behave yourself, Blair." Jim kissed Blair goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim went into the station.

"Hairboy get off okay?" H asked.

"Yeah," Jim answered as he sat down and started going over case files.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 13/02

Jim worked steadily before a young man interrupted him at 11:30 a.m.

"Sir, I have a delivery for you."

"Are you sure its for me?"

"Yes sir, it's for Jim Ellison of Major Crimes," the young man replied, handing over a small brown bag. "Enjoy, sir."

"Who sent it?"

"An anonymous admirer, sir" the young man said as he left.

Rafe came over to Jim's desk. "What did you get?"

Jim opened the bag and pulled out a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off. He unwrapped it slowly and sniffed. There was nothing wrong with it and it smelled good. Jim took a bite and moaned softly in pleasure.

"I take it that the sandwich is good," an amused Rafe said.

Jim only nodded as he finished the sandwich.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 14/02

Jim was relaxing at home, watching television. Just as he was going to get up to make lunch, the doorbell rang. It was the same young man from yesterday.

"Here you go, sir" said the delivery boy, handing him the brown bag and a small box.

"Anonymous admirer again?" Jim asked.

"Yes, sir."

Jim closed the door and returned to the couch. He opened the box to find two Turtle chocolates. The bag contained a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off. Jim smiled as he tucked into his lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 15/02

Jim had just finished the laundry. He came back to find two boxes and a brown bag in front of his door. Jim took them in and sat them on the table. He opened the smallest box first to find three French cream mints. The slightly larger box contained two Turtle chocolates and the bag had the anticipated chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

~~~~~~~~~~~

December 16/02

Jim hurried to his desk after appearing in court eager to see what bounty awaited. It was almost noon, and four packages were already there. A long, narrow box revealed four red licorice Twizzlers. The smallest box had three French cream mints and the last box contained two Turtle chocolates. In the brown paper bag was a very appreciated chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

Joel came up to him as he pulled out the sandwich. "Who's sending you gifts, Jim?"

Jim only smiled and handed him the card that came with the sandwich : 'Your secret admirer.'

"Must be nice to have an admirer who cares about what you eat." Joel said with a grin. "I heard you only got the sandwich on Friday and now three more."

"Yeah, although not quite accurate."

"Oh?" Joel prompted.

Jim grinned. "I got the Turtles and sandwich on Saturday and mints, Turtles and sandwich on Sunday."

"Lucky guy," Joel commented before going to the break room.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 17/02

Jim and Rafe came in at noon after questioning witnesses all morning. H was waiting by Jim's desk guarding his packages.

Jim smiled as he saw the five parcels. He opened each in turn starting with the smallest bag. He'd spread it all out on his desk for viewing. The treasures included five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts off. Jim popped a donut in his mouth as he fetched a cup of coffee.

H called out. "Who's sending these to you, Jim?"

Jim just shrugged with a small smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 18/02

Jim and Megan come into the bullpen, scowling. Their feet were soaked from chasing a suspect through the slushy back alleys.

Jim's scowl turned into a smile as he saw the six parcels on his desk. He ripped open the brightly wrapped package to find six white cotton socks. Jim immediately removed his wet shoes and socks and pulled on a dry pair of socks. He sighed in comfort.

Megan came over. "Hey Ellison, share in your bounty."

Jim grinned up at as he puts on his sneakers from his athletic bag which was beside him ready for a trip to the fitness center. "Sure, catch Megan." He tossed a pair of socks.

Jim opened the rest of his presents: five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 19/02

As Jim prepared to leave, a soft knock sounded at the door. He opened it to find only an envelope on the floor. A faint scent of cigar smoke lingered but it could have been left over from Simon's visit last night. Jim opened the envelope to find seven coupons for Starbuck's coffee. He smiled as he thought of a way to surprise the gang at Major Crimes. With a quick stop, Jim was well armed as he entered the bullpen.

Jim smiled brightly as he passed out cups of coffee to Rhonda, Megan, H, Rafe, and Joel. He knocked on Simon's door.

"Enter," Simon called out.

Jim entered with the last two cups. "Here you go, Simon. Thanks for the coupons."

"What coupons?"

"The seven coupons for Starbucks that you left on my doorstep," Jim said helpfully.

Simon grinned as he sipped his Starbucks coffee. "Sorry, Jim, they aren't from me."

Jim looked at his friend. He could tell that Simon was telling the truth, even if he was hiding something.

"Oookay... well enjoy the coffee." Jim left Simon's office to go his desk.

The morning was quiet and spent on paperwork. At eleven, Jim went down to records to get some files. When he got back, there were six packages on his desk. They contained: six white cotton socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 20/02

Jim returned to the bullpen after spending the morning following dead end leads. It was quiet with everyone gone to lunch. Looking over, he saw seven packages for him on his desk. The card attached to the largest bag says : 'From your secret admirer.' He opened them starting with the unfamiliar one first. The small bag contained eight small black licorice panthers. The rest of the packages reveal their gifts as: seven coupons for Starbucks' coffee, six white cotton socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

Rhonda returned early from lunch. "Quite a haul you got there, Jim."

Jim looked up with a smile. "Yeah, did you happen to see who left them?"

"Yes," Rhonda said with a secret grin.

"Who was it?"

"Just the regular delivery boy that brought the sandwich last Friday."

"Okay, thanks Rhonda."

Rhonda fought her smile as she returned to the conference room where the others waited for her.

Jim watched her leave before looking over the gifts. "It must be Blair," he muttered to himself as he touched the panthers. "Though he usually lectures me about too many sweets." Jim picked up the phone before setting it down again. He remembered that Blair is incommunicado until he returned. Then he picked up the phone and called Harry.

"Hi, this is Jim Ellison."

--"Yes, I'm Blair's roommate. How remote was that monastery?"--

--"Oh, that bad. So there's no way he could contact someone while he's there?"--

--"And he definitely left on the 12th...."--

--"Thanks, Henry. I just wanted to double check. Goodbye."

Jim hung up the phone to see Simon standing near the door. "Checking up on Sandburg, Jim?"

"Yeah, I was sure he was the secret admirer but there's no way he could be doing it from the monastery."

Simon grinned. "Why don't you just enjoy it for now?"

Jim nodded absentmindedly before smiling. "You're right, Simon."

~~~~~~~~~~

December 21/ 02

It's late afternoon when Rafe and H arrived at Jim's for the poker game.

"Why so glum?" Rafe asked.

"The game is still on, isn't it?" H questioned.

Jim nodded and replied. "Yeah, it's still on. The others should be here soon. It's just that I've gotten used to getting a surprise from my secret admirer."

"Nothing has come today?" Rafe asked.

"No," Jim shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe it couldn't be done or it's over. I just wish I knew for sure who it was."

"Don't worry, something will happen to let you know." H assured Jim.

The others arrived and the game started.

An hour later, a knock was heard and Jim hurried to answer the door.

"Sorry, I'm late sir." The delivery boy who had come before said, before handing Jim a box containing nine parcels.


Jim was smiling when he sat the box on the counter and started opening his presents. The others watched while exchanging quick, conspiring grins with each other. The parcels contained: nine bottles of Jim's favorite microbrew beer, eight small black licorice panthers, seven coupons for Starbucks' coffee, six white socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

"I guess you were right, H. Do I have you to thank for this?"

"Oh no, it's not me Jim."

Jim looked at the others and they all shook their heads in denial.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 22/02

Jim finished cleaning the loft and sat down to watch the game on television.

Someone knocked on the door. When Jim answered it, there was only a box on the floor and the faint scent that Jim now associated with the delivery boy.

Jim brought in the box and sat it on the table and opened it. Inside the box were ten packages. He opened them to find ten red pipe-cleaner hearts, nine bottles of his favorite microbrew beer, eight small black licorice panthers, seven coupons for Starbucks' coffee, six white cotton socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

Jim was smiling and once again almost positive that Blair was somehow behind all this.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 23/02

Jim came in again bearing gifts of coffee for the men and women of Major Crimes. He was wearing a small, irrepressible grin.

The others couldn't help but to join in with Jim's good mood.

At noon, the delivery boy came in with a box of gifts for Jim. "Here you are, sir. Would it be convenient for me to stop by your apartment later to deliver something?"

"Yes, I should be back home about six."

"Thank you, sir. Enjoy the gifts."

Jim opened the box to find eleven presents. They are eleven coupons for Wonderburger, ten red pipe-cleaner hearts, a promise note to deliver nine bottles of microbrew beer that evening, eight small black licorice panthers, seven coupons for Starbucks' coffee, six white cotton socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off.

"Have you figured out who your secret admirer is, Jim?" Simon asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to wait for tomorrow to be sure." Jim said with grin.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 24/02

Jim came in to the bullpen at eleven after looking up some files in records. Everyone was standing around his desk.

"Did I miss the delivery boy?" Jim asked.

"No," Rafe said, "Although your box is here."

"How?"

Rafe shrugged. "We were in the conference room and when we came out, it was here."

"So are you going to open it?" Simon asked.

Jim nodded slowly as he stretched out his senses, trying to detect Blair.

Connors nudged him and whispered, "Hey, Jim. Now is not the time to zone."

Jim shook off his zone and opened the box. There were twelve parcels inside. The first envelope had a note inside: 'Look at the doorway, Jim.' Jim looked but saw no one. He started to walk there to see if anyone was outside.

Blair slipped out of the break room and came up quietly behind Jim. He shut off his personal white noise generator. "Hey big guy, where are you going?"

Jim turned around and stared at Blair for a moment. "I knew it was you," Jim said as pulled Blair into a hug.

Blair laughed and began his twelfth day gift. He gave Jim twelve kisses with a softly murmured "I love you" after each one. After the last kiss was delivered, Blair stepped back. "Open the rest of your gifts, Jim."

Jim pulled Blair back into his arms. "We'll open them together."

The rest of the gifts were opened to reveal: eleven coupons for Wonderburger, ten red pipe-cleaner hearts, a note promising nine bottles of microbrew beer to be waiting in the loft's fridge, eight small black licorice panthers, seven coupons for Starbucks' coffee, six white cotton socks, five miniature buttermilk donuts, four red licorice Twizzlers, three French cream mints, two Turtle chocolates, and a chicken salad sandwich with the crusts cut off. The only difference is the card which says 'For My True Love, from Blair' instead 'Your Secret Admirer.'

Jim hugged Blair tightly. "Thank you, Blair. I love you too."

Simon cleared his throat.

Jim and Blair looked at the smiling faces surrounding them and then at each other.

"Permission to leave early, Simon?" Jim asked.

Simon laughed. "Go on, you two."

"You guys can have these gifts, I have the one I want." Jim told them as he escorted Blair quickly out of the bullpen to celebrate in private.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, snuggled together in their bed, Jim and Blair exchanged kisses as their bodies cooled.

"How did you manage it?"

Blair grinned. "Everyone helped out. I arranged it while you were at court on the tenth."

Jim laughed softly. "Chief, you never cease to surprise me."

"I hope so, Jim. I love you."

"I love you too, Blair."


--The End--

MISCELLANEOUS (MULDER/SKINNER)

Title: Working Late
Author: CJK
RATING: G
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner
Fandom: XF
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, locations and events belong to Chris Carter. I'm not making any money out of this.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: lena@warpedcore.net
A/N: This was written a while ago, and since then my writing style has changed - matured? - a fair bit. That's supposed to be an apology, in case you missed it. :)

WORKING LATE

Outside the rain was falling.

He could hear the soft tapping of drops against the glass plane of his window, knew that if he opened the blinds he'd see the lights of the city distorted and transformed through the tiny prisms of water. It almost looked like an impressionist painting, red and green traffic lights, white and yellow headlights. He wondered idly what Renoir would have thought of the landscape of Washington DC in fall.

You are losing it, old man. Definitely losing it.

Great. Now I think of myself as old.

You are as old as you feel, and right now you feel about ninety, Walter.

Sleep. I need sleep. Maybe if I'm lucky enough I'll never wake up.

Oh sure, just imagine how high the piles of paperwork on your desk will be by then.

That's just the point, isn't it? If I'm dead I won't have to worry about paperwork anymore.

Dream on, old man. Or better yet, get a grip and start on the next pile.

Is it my imagination or is the inbox really growing bigger?

Yeah, sure. Wake up and start working.

Skinner sighed and looked over to his conference table. He could see the report that lay on the polished surface. A thick folder with the documents just visible... He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to get up, walk to the table, pick up the report, go back to his desk and start working. Easy. He'd done it thousands of times before...

Get up and get it. What's the matter with you? It's not the first time you are working late, you can't be THAT tired!

I'm not tired. I'm not tired. I'm fully awake. I'm not... Hell, I'm falling asleep.

He gripped the edge of the desk and pulled himself up, appalled at how difficult the simple movement had suddenly become.

Five steps to the table. He stood, leaning on the wooden panel behind his desk. Five easy steps.

Yeah, right.

One - step away from the wall. Two - walk to the table. Three -

Why was the carpet pattern getting bigger and bigger? It was kind of nice actually, red and black... The black parts were filling his universe, and he was falling, falling...

...And felt somebody's strong arms go around him, pull him out of the darkness he was heading into. Heard his name being repeated over and over, until he remembered how to open his eyes and look up.

His savior had very familiar features, smooth pale skin, hazel eyes and a prominent nose. The full lips were moving, calling his name. He managed to open his mouth, but speaking was much harder than he remembered it to be.

"Agent Mulder, what..."

His own voice didn't sound right to him. Dull, like through a thick cushion. Fortunately his most brilliant subordinate had figured out what he wanted to ask.

That, or the rumors that said 'Spooky' Mulder was psychic were true.

"You passed out, sir. How do you feel? Can you sit up?"

He tried, and discovered that his body weight had doubled over the last few minutes. His limbs felt as if they were made from lead, and his head weighed a ton, at the very least. Mulder's arms were still around him, pulling him up, guiding him to a close chair. The effort took the last reserves of his strength, and Mulder had to hold on to him, to prevent him sliding onto the floor. Dimly, he heard Mulder talking.

"Sir, can you hear me? Sir? Are you with me here? Sir? Walter?"

That got his attention and he fought the dizziness long enough to mutter, "Since when are we on first name terms, Agent?"

Heard a chuckle in response, but the next question was posed in a very serious tone. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

The room was moving in circles, making him seasick, but aside from that he felt a bit better.

He contemplated the idea. "No, no ambulance. It's just sleep deprivation and low blood sugar."

Mulder sighed. "OK, I'll drive you home instead, but if you pass out again we are going straight to the ER."

By then Walter was feeling good enough to roll his eyes at the remark, but regretted it instantly, as piercing pain shot straight into his forehead. He must have winced, because Mulder leaned forward again.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just a monumental headache," he murmured, rubbing his face. He opened his eyes to find Mulder's face directly in front of his.

He's cute when he looks concerned.

Get a grip, old man.

Mulder helped him get up and put his shoulder under Walter's right arm. With his left hand he grabbed the other man's briefcase and coat.

They made it to the elevator with only one stop on the way. Skinner was feeling slightly better, but the movement and his spinning head made his stomach rebel again.

In the parking garage Mulder made him wait while he got the car. He then helped his boss to get in and fastened the seatbelt for him. His fussing would have made Walter really pissed off, if he'd had the energy to care about it.

Feeling as tired and drained as he did he just closed his eyes and spent the fairly short amount of time it took Fox to get to Crystal City fighting the overwhelming nausea.

Strangely, Mulder turned out to be a good driver and Walter was somewhere between actual sleep and annoying reality when the agent pulled up in front of his apartment building.

Longing to keep the little that was left of his dignity intact he got out of the car by himself, and got as far as the building entrance, before he felt Mulder's hand on his elbow.

"Where do you think are you going, sir?" Mulder's tone was full of concern, and, strangely, anger.

"Home," he croaked out, wanting to be in his bed more than anything else at that moment.

He got to the elevator and was surprised to find Mulder still two steps behind him. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something about Mulder... Oh, yes.

"Mulder, thank you for driving me here, but I think I can manage on my own now..." Where was the damn elevator?

He heard Mulder chuckle the second time that evening and found the unfamiliar sound strangely reassuring. Come to think of it, there were so many strange things about Mulder.

There was the bell and the doors of the elevator opened. He stumbled inside, Mulder still behind him. The agent's hand was warm and comforting on the back of his neck, and he didn't mind the light touch as much as he had the feeling he should.

Not a smart career move, Walter.

He was too tired to argue, even with himself.

Somehow he made it to the apartment, his hand-eye coordination close to nonexistent. Mulder took the key out of his hand, opened the door swiftly and ushered Skinner inside, depositing him on the couch in the living room.

Walter was trying very hard to stay awake, but the cushions were so soft and comfortable. He couldn't fall asleep with Mulder rummaging through his kitchen, could he?

But much to his surprise, apparently he could.

END