ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 18

James is Cumming
K/S by T'Guess

CLARK/LEX

Title: Imperfect Perfection
Author: Lil
RATING: PG-13
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Disclaimer: I don't own them, boy would you know it if I did. Smallville/DC Superman, etc., owned by various large corporate entities. I'm just borrowing.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
Feedback Email address: lilacm67@yahoo.com

Imperfect Perfection
by Lil

Lex stood in his office, sipping a nicely aged scotch and staring at a cheerfully crackling fireplace he was not seeing.

His mind was full of other images: wholesome, lovely, perfect. Just like the beautiful Miss Lang, ultimate dream girl of clueless teens everywhere.

Not fair, Lex chided himself. She has surprised me over the past couple of years.

It was true enough. Her handling of the Talon, her break from Whitney and her strength in dealing with his death, all pointed to a soon-to-be woman who would be as formidable as she was pretty.

But none of it was enough to overcome her one, possibly fatal (if he ever gave in to his darker impulses) flaw: Clark wanted her.

And tonight, after countless years of pining, and one or two of pretend friendship, he was dressed in his best suit and dancing with her at the Winter Formal, on a date as close to perfect as Lex could make it.

Dinner early at Metropolis' most romantic restaurant, the Tower Mark, which sat atop the highest building in the city and provided a spectacular view of the sunset. Exquisite orchids for a corsage, chosen to compliment Lana's dress. Limo to and from the city, and of course, to the dance at Smallville High. With a driver who had explicit orders to take the couple anywhere they wished afterwards, for as long as they wished. Lex had even cleared it with Nell. (Blushing furiously, Clark had emphatically nixed the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons.)

Clark deserved it. And more. If it had been in Lex's power, he would have served up Lana Lang on a silver platter, wrapped for marriage and a room full of adopted kids--or engineered ones if they ever got Clark's space ship to divulge its secrets.

It was the least he could do for the young man who had given him friendship and something even more rare: his complete trust.

That had taken some time, but Clark had seen something in Lex that was worthy. That he believed in. Against every bit of logic and counter to every piece of evidence that nearly everyone offered him, Clark trusted him with everything that he was or would be, with his life, his sanity, his freedom, his beloved family.

What could he do with a gift like that but desperately try to live up to it?

And that meant giving back everything he had to give. His soul, tarnished as it was, was gone before he even knew it. His heart followed without protest.

No wonder really. Clark was… Clark. Impossible to classify, beautiful in a literally unearthly sense, and pure in a way that Lex had not believed could exist. Oh, he knew Clark had his petty moments, he could be thoughtless, cruel even, in the oblivious way that teenagers were. Very much like anyone else. But he also rose above that far more often than not, and he honestly expected the best from people. Believed in things like truth, and honor, and love. Did his utmost to live up to the things he believed. There was a core of him that was unsullied by the ugliness and corruption of life. The smallness of humanity.

He was warmth and safety and love, things Lex Luthor had had precious little experience of since his mother's death.

So it was no surprise that Lex loved him, passionately, completely. Hopelessly.

Because the lovely boy-man was not only straight as Jonathan Kent's shotgun, his heart belonged to his fairy princess next door, not the bald fairy in the castle.

Lex was learning to live with that. Slowly. It had been easier before he'd seen them drive off together. A beautiful, perfect couple. All too real.

Footsteps in the hall distracted him. He'd told Enrique to retire over an hour ago, and the other servants should not be in the castle. Over two years of Smallville life had made him justifiably paranoid and he set down the scotch in favor of a poker from the fireplace.

It was possible his father was here from Metropolis, but ever since the treatments had partially restored his sight, he had avoided Smallville and the weakness he associated with it. A state of affairs Lex was all to happy to encourage.

The door-handle turned, and a moment later Clark Kent was slipping inside, his face lighting up with that sunshine smile upon seeing him. The smile turned into a grin when he spotted the poker, but it wasn't a cutting expression, there was even a certain amount of rueful agreement.

"You're back early," Lex said by way of greeting.

"Dance is over." Clark walked into the room, hands in his pants pockets, tie already unknotted and stuffed in the coat pocket.

"I thought you and Lana might take in a moonlit drive through the cornfields. It's perfectly clear out there, million stars…" Lex sometimes marveled at the depth of his own masochistic streak.

Clark shook his head, didn't elaborate. "Thanks for the limo, and the dinner, and, you know, everything."

"You're welcome." Lex frowned slightly, "Was everything all right? Roberts treated you well, no problems--"

"Tom was fine, really nice. Everything was… almost perfect."

"Almost?" Perversely, that annoyed Lex. He had worked very hard to make sure it was perfect. 'Almost' was for 'also-rans' not for Luthors, even by proxy. "Was the restaurant ok? Did you not like the food?"

"The food was great."

"Did you miss the sunset?"

"No, it was gorgeous. Better than my loft," Clark grinned.

"Traffic?"

"The roads were clear."

"Bad music at the dance?" The food undoubtedly had been, that was partially why he'd sent them to dinner elsewhere.

"The band was terrific, I can't believe Coldplay came to Smallville High." Amused eyes, green in this light, told him Clark knew exactly who had engineered that particular feat. Lex didn't have to confirm it, however.

"Did something happen with Lana?" It was a long-shot. If something had, Lex knew Clark would have been moping, not smiling, as he came in.

"No." A quick look down. Furtive glance at Lex from beneath bangs grown overlong once again. "We kissed."

"Really. Both in your right minds this time?"

A slightly reproachful look answered him and he sighed, sent his own silent apology. Think first, hurt second--especially when he was hurting--was something Lex was still unused to, even with Clark. "But something did happen." Not a question this time. "Bad kiss?"

Clark shook his head, his smile a touch wry this time, "No, the kiss was good. Almost perfect."

"What went wrong?" More seriously this time. If Clark was upset…

"Nothing, I mean, it was nice, and the dinner and everything was… really terrific. But. Lana and I… we just--she was just…" he stopped, straightened, looked directly at Lex, "…too soft. Too short. Too tan. Too--hairy. Too--too pink." Clark held his gaze steadily, only the slightest tell-tale strain in his voice. "I don't like pink. I like--I love purple."

Lex froze. "Clark--" Air would be good. But maybe a lack of air would explain what he heard. Or what he thought he'd heard.

Clark came nearer. "Lana is great, she really is. But she's not you."

"Clark…" This close Clark's presence was overwhelming. People said that about him, too, but he had never really understood the visceral impact of it until Clark. He couldn't think, could hardly breathe and goddamn it he needed to do both because Clark couldn't be saying what he thought he was saying, or maybe Clark didn't understand what he was saying and he would not, could not get his hopes up, it would be worse for both of them in the end and how had Clark's arms ended up around him? When had his hand crept up to stroke his neck? Why did he have to be so warm, so impossible to move away from?

"Lex, if you don't… y'know, all you have to do is say so. But I'm 18 now. There's no need to wait anymore. I know what I want. Who." Those intense green eyes were wholly focused on him, so close he could tell where green shaded to blue and back again. "Lex, I love--"

"No." He covered Clark's mouth (so soft, did all aliens have such soft lips?). He couldn't hear it, if Clark said it, "You can't take it back. If you say it, you can't take it back." He wouldn't be able to survive that. And he just might take the rest of the world with him.

Clark gently removed his hand, placed a kiss on the palm, and did not let go. "I don't want to take it back. Lex--"

"You're only 18, you don't--"

"I do. I knew before the date tonight, I've known for months. I wasn't sure if you'd believe me if I didn't show you I don't want her. And I don't. It's you. I want--I love you."

He said it. Lex closed his eyes. Too late now. For both of them. "I love you too."

A weightless silence. Then…

"So, uhm, can I kiss you now?" Bright, sunlit voice, warm as mulled cider on a brisk fall day.

Lex opened his eyes, found himself smiling. It might be too late, but maybe that wasn't always a bad thing.

"Yes."

Happy Holidays to all and a Clexy New Year : )

Note: In my universe<g>, Clark is a year older than everyone else in his class, which at least partially explains why he looks older, and is in line with him probably needing extra time to learn English and get acclimated before he got sent to school with the other kids.

END

HARRY/SNAPE

TITLE: Blood and Presents
AUTHOR: Maddie Eerie
FANDOM: Harry Potter
PAIRING: HP/SS (HP/DM)
WARNING: Bad mojo ahead. Seriously, this is not a pleasant story.
SUMMARY: They didn’t win.
NOTE: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/

Blood and Presents

Severus watched idly as his blood faded into the stone floor of his chamber. No matter how much blood was spilled in Malfoy Manor, it always disappeared. It was more than just Narcissa’s neat-freak nature, the Manor had always done so. It had been built with blood, a human sacrifice laid under it’s foundation stone to ensure strength, and the building still loved drinking up any life that came into it. Severus personally thought that was why all the Malfoy’s were so pale, their vitality had been sucked out of them by the Manor itself.

He drew his fingernail down his already bloody forearm and more drops of blood splattered on the floor of his cell to be sucked away to feed the dark magics of the Manor. His arm was a mess of tattered flesh, but he’d just about demolished every last trace of the Dark Mark. And he probably wouldn’t scar – wouldn’t live long enough to. That was a comfort, of a sorts. At least he wouldn’t die bearing the Mark of the creature he loathed more than even himself.

“You shouldn’t do that, sir,” a hoarse voice said softly. Severus didn’t even bother looking at the other occupant of the cell. Looking at Potter would just make him hurt inside again, and he’d only managed to numb himself to the torture recently.

A spidery touch whispered across the bare skin of his back as the boy touched him. There was pain, but he couldn’t manage to even flinch from it. Endless torture had left him exhausted and numbed. He felt Potter settle beside him, huddled up to the whip-ruin that was his back. Potter brought his arms around Severus in a sick parody of a hug. The boy forced him blood-slicked nails away from his ruined arm.

“Don’t,” Potter whispered in his ear, the boy’s breath tickling the small hairs there. Potter’s voice was ravaged from screaming. It sounded painful, deep and gurgling. Severus was actually rather lucky that his vocal cords had been ripped out some time before.

The boy manhandled him, turning Severus around to face him. Severus managed to focus on the manacles on the far wall of their cell so he didn’t have to look into those mad green eyes. They would just give him hope, and that would hurt all the more when it was taken away again.

Potter bent his head over Severus’ bloodied arm and lapped up the blood. His tongue was delicate at is traced symbols over the flesh. Severus just sat there on the floor, his will totally gone now that his one last pitiful attempt to end it all had been thawarted.

When he was done, Potter leaned back and smiled at him. It was a smile full of warmth and passion and it was utterly insane. “There, isn’t that better? We wouldn’t want you to be all mussed when Draco comes back down to play with us. Do you think he’ll come soon?”

Potter patted his face playfully. He reached up and twined his fingers through Severus’ crusty, unwashed hair.

“You’re beautiful, sir.” Potter leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss seared Severus, his lips cracking and swollen already. Potter coughed into his mouth and Severus tasted blood. Potter’s tongue worked furiously to suck back every bit of it, and more of Severus’ besides.

“When he comes, I shall tell Draco to bring the presents. It’s Christmas, did you know? I didn’t get Draco anything this year, but I’m sure he’ll forgive me. Draco loves me,” Potter sighed happily. The boy shifted and reached down to drag one of his broken legs over so it was draped across Severus’ lap. “Draco loves us both.”

Potter hummed tunelessly under his breath as he began to run his hands down Severus’ chest. He pulled away abruptly and brought and grasped Severus’ head, tilting it up so that Severus had no choice but to look at him. Those green eyes scarred Severus as nothing else could.

“I love you, too, sir. Draco is my boyfriend now, but I’ll always love you. Do you love me?” Severus closed his eyes, tears he thought he’d lost forever running down his face. Potter evidently took that for an affirmative. “Good, I’m glad. I wonder what Draco will give us for Christmas?”

*******
The End
*******
 

SPIKE/XANDER

Title:
Author: Jezebel eh_oh_po@yahoo.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/???
Fandom: Buffy
Disclaimer: They're not mine. They belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy and other related companies.
Spoilers: Maybe if you don't know about Spike being a 'neutered puppy', other than that, not much.
Notes: Part of the slash advent calendar at www.kardasi.com .

***

"I don't care how good it'll be there is no way that you are putting that in there."

"Come on Xan, I know it'll be a tight fit but after a while you won't notice it."

"No. There is no way..."

"Please Xander, Please..."

Xander watched as the former Big Bad did his best to pout and make puppy eyes, he did a good attempt at it and even that was enough to make Xander relent. He guessed that he would do anything for the man that he loved.

"Okay, you can put the Desoto in my garage, but there is no way that I'm taking the motorbike as well."

Spike grinned as if he had won the battle and Xander groaned, was this just an excuse for the vampire to move more and more of his stuff here until he was living with him?

"What's wrong now?" Spike asked. "It's only a bloody car. I just don't want to leave it out in winter."

"Because it snows so often in California." Xander said drolly.

"No. Because the demons come out at night and are more likely to steal it."

Xander rolled his eyes, he had let Spike put his car in his garage, he didn't mind really, it was not as if he used the space much anyway.

"Okay, fine." Xander said. "But only the car and only for the Winter. I'm thinking of moving my workshop out there in the Spring so that I can build some new furniture for this place."

Spike nodded, not really taking in what Xander was saying. He was sure that by Spring he would have persuaded Xander to let him move in more permanently. After all it was only a matter of time before they realised what an asset he was to all of their lives.

***

Xander groaned as he looked at the open door on the garage that was attached to his house, he rented the lower part of a condo and got the attached garage, however since it had been taken over by a certain Vampire there was no room to move. He had been telling the damn Vampire to move his spare parts for weeks, and yet he returned home tonight to find yet another assortment of spare parts littering the driveway and entrance hall to his apartment.

"Spike, I thought I told you..." Xander trailed off when he saw the sight in front of him, it made him want to drool.

Spike wore tight black figure hugging jeans with a plain white vest shirt that clung to his body from sweat, he was currently leaning over into the engine of the car and Xander had a full view of his ass. Spike stood, almost earning a groan of disappointment from Xander, wiping his grease stained hands across the front of the shirt Spike turned to look at the man that had invaded his privacy, completely unaware of the effect it was having on Xander to see him like this.

"What?" Spike asked. "I'm trying to fix the sodding engine."

"You..." Xander coughed, his words coming out slightly higher than he had thought. "You promised that you would clean this place up." He said again. "You know that the gang are coming over for a meal later, we're all exchanging presents early this year so that we can spend time with our families."

There was a wistful expression on Xander's face and Spike felt sorry for the boy. There was no way that Mr. and Mrs. Harris would be welcoming the boy back to theirs for Christmas. In their drunken states they would probably not even notice that Christmas had passed.

"I'll tidy up when I'm bloody well good and ready." Spike said. "I need to fix the alternator and the...that other thing first."

Xander looked at the grease monkey that stood in front of him, the black oil appearing in dark contrast against the pale white skin and could not help but agree with Spike. He could never argue with a sexy man like this.

"Okay." Xander said. "But if Buffy comes over and the place is not neat and tidy I'll get her to stake you."

"Like I'm scared of the slayer." Spike muttered sarcastically.

Xander left it and went off to cook his dinner. It was not much but he had been looking forward to it for weeks and he had saved up to buy a few surprises for his guests.

***

Willow called first, her and Tara had a spell to do so they couldn't come around. They sent their best wishes, and said that they would be by later if they could make it, maybe even bring some cake with them. Xander thanked her for calling and put down the phone, he supposed that it didn't matter, there were still other guests.

Buffy was next. She and Dawn had been caught up visiting her absentee father in LA. It appeared that he had an attack of guilt and had invited them to stay there for the holidays. Xander knew that there was no love lost between Buffy and her dad but she wanted to make an effort for Dawn's sake. Xander told her that he knew how it was.

Finally the call came from Giles. He'd spoken to Buffy, and to Willow, and decided that it would be uncomfortable with just the two of them. It would be prudent for them to rearrange their soiree for another, more appropriate evening, he had told Xander in his clipped British tones. Xander had agreed, thanked him for his wisdom in the matter and then hung up. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage he yanked the socket from the wall and slammed it down on the counter.

"Problems love?" Spike asked as he entered the apartment, oily rag in hand and to Xander's dismay the previously white shirt tucked in his back pocket. He looked like he ought to be working out of a place called 'Frank's Auto Repairs' in a dodgy porn movie. Not that Xander wanted to think of Spike in a porn movie - that would be a bad move.

"Nah, just a change of plans for tonight." Xander said, trying to play down his hurt feelings with the comment.

"They cancelled on you?" Spike asked, although the question did not really need an answer when he knew it already.

Xander shrugged, trying to show Spike that it didn't matter, but to the Vampire that had gotten used to reading people it was obvious just how bothered by it Xander was.

"Why do you put up with them?" Spike asked bluntly. "They treat you like crap."

"They're my friends." Xander defended. "Besides, you're one to talk. You spend time with them too."

"Yeah, but I get blood or money out of it. What do you get?" Spike retorted.

Xander was disconcerted when he could not immediately come up with an answer. He could have said that he felt a sense of accomplishment fighting the good fight, but these days he did more sitting than fighting, he could have said that they were his friends but he didn't always feel that anymore and something told him that Spike would smell his lies. The truth was that there wasn't really any other answer to that question than that he didn't want to be alone. It seemed a pretty pathetic reason for a friendship.

"I didn't think so." Spike said knowingly. "So, what have we got for dinner?"

"You're not staying." Xander stated adamantly. "Besides, Vampires don't eat."

Spike tilted his head to one side, eyeing Xander's neck and casually licked his lips. Xander flushed. He didn't know why but the thought of Spike feeding on him was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Food. Vampires don't eat food." Xander added more forcefully.

"I just thought that you might want some company." Spike said. "Don't see why we should both be alone when we could have some fun together."

Xander closed his mind, he didn't want to allow the thoughts of that type of fun, at least not with Spike.

"Okay, but no eating blood at the table, you'll put me off my food."

"Scouts honour." Spike swore.

"You were never a scout." Xander said. "They didn't even have them when you were a child."

"No." Spike said, as he smile grew. "But I ate a whole troop of them once."

Xander put the thought out of his head, but was glad that it had cleared his head of the other images that he had of Spike, to be honest, it was always easier to make his erection subside when he thought of evil Spike, as long as he didn't think of him and those damn leather trousers that he had worn once.

"Can we just have a civilised meal, without any mention of death or killing?" Xander asked.

Spike acquiesced. Taking a seat at the dining table and reaching for the bottle of wine that Xander had left out. It wasn't exactly vintage, Spike had known a little about wine, but it was alcohol and it would work. He took a bottle opener and proceeded to open it.

"You're drinking?" Xander asked.

"So are you." Spike commented as he poured wine into the two glasses that were set out on the laid table. Xander sighed. He wondered if this was such a good idea, but Spike was right, it was a shame to let the food go to waste. So he served himself a plate and sat down, taking the glass and taking a sip before tucking into his dinner. This couldn't be much worse than eating alone.

***

Spike was a more entertaining and witty dinner guest than Xander had imagined. Other than the fact that through all of dinner Spike had refused to wear the shirt that he still wore in the back pocket of his jeans, and the swearing, there was a lot that the vampire seemed to have going for him. Xander supposed that you didn't get through 120 years of living without learning a thing or two and there must have been something else in his life other than the maiming and the killing.

They spoke on varied subjects, from religion to politics, only really touching on the edges but it proved that Spike was a thoughtful, generous and interesting person, more of a three-dimensional character than Xander had ever really thought. He was of course unfortunately completely straight, or else Xander might have been interested in a lot more than just a physical relationship with him. Plus he was dead, that was never a good thing to look for in a lover.

"More wine?" Spike asked as he again refilled Xander's glass. Xander had to admit that he was drinking a lot more than he usually did, but they were relaxed and warm, also it seemed to drown the pain of his friend's rejection just a little bit.

"Go on then." Xander said. "But just a little bit."

"Oops." Spike said as he emptied the rest of the bottle into Xander's glass. "Empty."

"There is another fridge in the bottle." Xander said, laughing when he realised his mistake. "There is another bottle in the fridge." He corrected.

Spike went to fetch it but then paused while he was up.

"You want to get more comfortable?" Spike asked. He hadn't meant it to sound as provocative as it had, it wasn't a come on, at least not really.

"Why, Will, are you propositioning me?" Xander asked.

It sent shivers through Spike to hear Xander use his given name. Spike was a cold-blooded killer, the one that had hurt thousands, but William, he was the poet and lover that neither Drusilla nor Angelus could kill.

"No." Spike said softly, in a voice that didn't sound at all like him. He coughed and then tried again. "No, not at all."

He expected Xander to be thankful at that. He didn't expect the pout, or the wobbling bottom lip. Xander was pretending to be upset.

"Don't you love me anymore?" Xander whined. "Aren't I pretty enough for you to ravish me?"

Spike didn't want to ruin the mood by telling him that he didn't ravish men, he raped them, he didn't want to say anything that might spoil this moment.

"I think you've had too much to drink." Spike said.

"Never." Xander said, as he tried to get to his feet and stumbled in the process. "'sides, I'm a Harris. We Harris men are great drinkers."

The words didn't sound like something that Xander would say and Spike wondered if his father had said the words to Xander when he was still at home. From his brief time living in the basement he had known that Xander's parents were both drunks, and that his dad especially was a mean drunk, he didn't want Xander to think that he was like that.

"You're nothing like your father." Spike said. "And I certainly don't think that you're a great drinker."

"Good for nothing." Xander said self cynically, again they were not his own words.

"You are good for something, more than something..." Spike said, he hated to see Xander put himself down this way and made a note never to give him alcohol again.

"But you still don't love me. No one does." Xander said. He didn't realise what he was saying until the words were out. He had been teasing before but now there was no way that the words could be seen as anything but self-pity.

Spike stepped forward, replacing the unopened wine bottle on the table and moving towards Xander. The younger man was frozen on the spot, he was convinced that Spike was going to hit him and he knew that he deserved it. When a cool hand reached up to cup his face, Xander was confused. He looked up, seeing in Spike's eyes a mixture of desire and fear that he was sure was reflected in his own eyes.

"Will?" Xander asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to ask what Spike was doing but before he could ask any more question he was silenced with a kiss.

At first it was just a soft and gentle caress, something to tell Xander that he was loved more than he knew, but it soon turned into more.

Xander wanted to taste more of Spike, he allowed his hands to reach out and touch the bare chest that had been teasing him all evening, pulling Spike to him and revelling in the kiss.

Spike groaned as Xander deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue against Spike's lips as if asking for entry. Their tongues duelled, they mapped each other's mouths, they filled all of the cliches of romance novels and a few more besides.

By the time they made it to the bedroom there were clothes littering the lounge room and kitchen and both were naked from the waist up with pants open and both sporting erections that would drill through most known substances.

Neither thought they would last long, so they stripped themselves and moved it to the bed, finally coming back together in another kiss.

Spike liked the sight of an expanse of naked skin, flushed pink with desire and in stark contrast to his still deathly pale complexion. It was amazing to feel Xander's hot skin on his own.

The boys kissed, groped, rubbed, stroked, massaged, felt and fondled. Each taking in as much as they could, committing things to memory and trying to hold off the climax as much as possible. Spike was the first to take things to hand, he reached down and stroked Xander's cock, using the pre-cum as a lubricant that allowed his hand to move freer and faster across the impressive organ. Spike moved slightly, gasping as their erections bumped together and then he began to stroke himself and Xander at the same time.

It didn't take long, just a little more and they were both reaching their peak. As Xander climaxed he screamed Spike's name.

"William."

Spike rolled off his lover off him and both lay on their backs panting as they came down from their shared orgasm. For Spike it had been one of the most powerful he had ever experienced and even if Xander woke the next morning racked with regret he could cope with it knowing that he had this experience in his life.

"What time is it?" Xander asked, seemingly a lot more sober than he had originally been.

"Dunno." Spike muttered, now tired from the orgasmic high that he was coming down from.

"Look." Xander ordered.

"12.05 am." Spike said as he got just enough energy to check the clock that was on his side of the bed.

"That means it's Christmas." Xander said.

"Sorry, I didn't get you a present." Spike commented. It seemed odd to say it in the post coitus but it was true.

"I think you did." Xander replied jovially.

Spike was confused, he was sure that he hadn't...oh...

"You were right earlier, you know, when you said I don't get much out of my friendship with Buffy..." Xander said.

Spike sighed. Why couldn't he just be a snuggler? Dru had been a snuggler. No, Xander had to be someone that wanted in depth conversation directly after sex.

"Xan, I didn't mean..." Spike began to interrupt.

"So, I was thinking..." Xander said, ignoring Spike's attempt to take it back. He didn't want it taken back. Especially not when Spike was right. "I was thinking that maybe it's time I left Sunnydale. What do you think?"

Spike felt his heart drop into his stomach. He had wanted this to be more than one night, even though it was unlikely he had allowed himself to hope. Now he was going to be disappointed.

"It's a good idea." Spike managed, although he didn't sound too enthusiastic.

"Where should we go first?" Xander asked, thinking aloud.

Spike nearly missed that, but when he heard it in his head his heart leaped with delight.

"We?" Spike asked, not sure if he could believe what he was hearing.

"Sure." Xander replied. "You are coming with me. We kind of established that you have no reason to stay here either, at least other than money and blood, both of which we can get on the road. So, I'm thinking we've had Christmas, maybe we should make this our New Year's Resolution."

"To get out of Sunnydale?" Spike asked.

"To see where the road leads us." Xander answered.

Spike had to admit, he liked the sound of that.

***

END

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: What Child is This?
RATING: G
Author: Sorlak
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, not me. I just borrowed them for a bit of slashy fun.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/advent
Feedback Email address: sorlak_theonly@hotmail.com
Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Lyrastar, who put up with all of my annoying grammer mistakes and suggested the title.
Illustration for this story can be found here: http://home.1asphost.com/kirolee/whatchild.jpg

WHAT CHILD IS THIS?

"Spock, why don't you want your parents to come here for Christmas and meet Sam?"

Spock said nothing, he just looked down at the newborn son that the love of his life and "mother" of his child was holding.

"I do not want my father to react badly around our son," Spock said, as he picked up Sam to cuddle him.

"We've talked about this before. I'm certain your parents will like Sam. And they really want to see you. I know your mother really misses you and wants to see you."

"How would you know that?"

"I got a letter from her just a few minutes ago. She said your father is also sending you one. It must not have gotten here yet."

"What did my mother say?"

"Not much really. She did congratulate us on our bonding and on Sam's birth, but she said she'd rather wait and say more in person."

"Did it seem like she approved of us?"

"Yes, but does that really matter? I mean, we have each other and we have our son," Kirk said

"True, however it is often pleasant to have the approval of family."

Three hours later, unknown to the two new parents, a shuttle arrived onboard the Enterprise. In that shuttle were Spock's parents.

"Won't they be so surprised to see us?" Amanda asked, as she stepped out of the shuttle.

"I doubt our son will be surprised," Sarek said from behind the huge stack of presents he was carrying. Some were Christmas presents for Kirk and Spock, but most of them were for their grandson.

Amanda turned around and carefully pulled two boxes out of the stack, creating a window for her husband to see through. "Is that better?"

"It would be better if we didn't bring so many gifts."

"It is our duty as grandparents to spoil our grandchildren."

"Vulcans do not spoil grandchildren."

Amanda pulled a few more presents from Sarek's pile. "Oh, take one look at your parents and what they did with Spock. There is no way you cannot call that spoiling."

"I do seem to remember an extraordinary amount of attention they paid Spock when he was young."

"See, Vulcans do spoil their grandchildren. Now let's go. We don't want Spock and James to find out we're here before we get to them."

They were guided by a McCoy who was trying to keep himself from giggling. The new grandparents made their way to sickbay where Kirk was still recovering from "giving birth" to Sam.

Fortunately, neither Kirk nor Spock was holding Sam when Sarek and Amanda made their entrance. If they had they probably would have dropped him in shock. "Merry Christmas," Amanda whispered when she saw Sam sleeping in his cradle beside Kirk's bed.

"Ho Ho Ho," Sarek mumbled. He hadn't wanted any part of playing Santa, but Amanda had insisted and Amanda usually got whatever she asked for. He didn't mind though, as seeing her happy would always make his day a pleasant one.

"You're... You're here," Spock stuttered.

"Who were you expecting, the Tooth Fairy?" Amanda replied as she attempted to hug her son. Much to her surprise, she succeeded.

"We were thinking about asking you and Jim to come home for the holiday, but thanks to Dr. McCoy, we came here instead."

"What did Dr. McCoy do?" Kirk asked.

"He advised us that it wouldn't be safe for you or Sam to travel anywhere right now, so he arranged for transportation."

"So that's why he's been giggling all day," Kirk said, as he looked at the blushing and nodding doctor.

"I did want to keep it a secret, but it was Amanda's idea to do the Santa thing," McCoy said.

[Not clear who is speaking. Could be Sarek, McCoy, or even Kirk--he did get a letter and was ambiguous about the contents...]

Fortunately for Sarek, he had found a table to pile all the presents onto. He was now watching the baby as he slept. "So, this is Sam. My grandson."

"Do you want to hold him?" Kirk asked, before Spock could say anything.

Sarek wordlessly picked up the tiny child and looked at him before smiling. "He is a beautiful child."

Spock found it very difficult to speak at that moment. "You're smiling?!"

"I believe I have sufficient reason. I am seeing my grandson for the first time."

"We thought you wouldn't approve of him."

"Why wouldn't I approve?"

"His mother is human and is a man."

"I have absolutely no room for complaint if I disapproved of your bonding with a human. Besides, you wouldn’t have Sam if I didn't approve of your choice of bondmate."

"Why not?" Spock asked.

"I am the person who arranged for you to conceive a child and keep him with you. If I hadn't written that letter to Starfleet, you would have been forced to leave Starfleet."

"Thank you Father. This is the greatest Christmas I have ever experienced," Spock said as he deliberately smiled in public for the first time. He finally found that the cause was sufficient.

END

JIM/BLAIR
Title: Christmas Traditions
Author: Diana Williams
RATING: PG
Pairing: Jim/Blair,
Fandom: The Sentinel
Disclaimer: Don't own them, and I couldn't afford to keep Jim in trucks.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: diana@slashcity.com
Spoilers: Not much, except minor reference to "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg"

CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS

Blair was worried.

He knew that Jim could see it every time Blair looked at the Christmas tree, could see the flicker in his eyes as he cataloged the boxes underneath. Hell, Jim could probably *smell* the anxiety rolling off Blair in waves.

Because the tree was one present short.

Oh, there were plenty of brightly colored boxes underneath. Blair's present to Jim had made its appearance the moment the tree was up. Over the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, more boxes had been added: gifts from their co-workers and friends, from William and Steven as the Ellisons made awkward and tentative advances towards being a family again, even one from Naomi who was spending the holiday with friends in New Zealand. Blair had been a little relieved at that; things still hadn't been completely smoothed down between them following the whole dissertation debacle, and distance seemed to make it easier for both of them.

But there was no present from Jim to Blair. And, since this was their first Christmas as a couple, the omission was very noticeable, at least to a certain Guide. And, as a precedent for starting traditions for them as a couple, it was an ominous omen.

At first, Blair had assumed that Jim just didn't know what to get him. He'd found perfect times to drop subtle hints about gift ideas. While watching TV, he commented about season tickets to the Jags. Arriving late and breathless for an appointment had been a great opportunity to mention that he needed a new watch. Shopping for gifts for their friends had given him the chance to point and comment about any number of items.

And still no present had appeared under the tree and Jim's favorite hiding places also remained empty.

It wasn't that he was materialistic, Blair reasoned to himself. It didn't matter *what* Jim gave him, really. It was the *thought* that counted completely in this case, the knowledge that Jim had taken the time, had *remembered* him. And yes, a lot of it was baggage from past Christmases spent alone and unremembered while Naomi dashed about the globe and his acquaintances spent the holidays with their families. But wasn't sharing gifts part of being a couple?

However, as the days went by and no gaily wrapped gift marked from Jim to Blair made its way under the tree, Blair came to the unwelcome conclusion that he and Jim obviously had different ideas on what "being a couple" involved. If Jim even considered them a couple rather than "friends with benefits".

So it was a rather gloomy Blair Sandburg who returned home on Christmas Eve, cold and wet and miserable. A glance at the tree told him that nothing had changed and now it was too late because the stores were closed.

Jim came down the stairs from the loft, obviously fresh from the shower and smiling. Of course *he* could smile, Blair thought disgustedly. *His* lover hadn't completely forgotten to get him a Christmas present.

"Chief, you're soaked to the bone," Jim scolded, starting to peel off the wet layers. "Why don't you grab a shower and get comfortable? I'll start the fire and warm up some cider - that should help."

Blair nodded without enthusiasm and made his way into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes spent under a stream of hot water did much to revive his flagging spirits, and a stern talking-to-himself as he shaved reminded him of just what he *had* received in the past year, to wit, the love of one Jim Ellison. He resolved to be grateful for what he had - and not to hold it over Jim too much when the man opened his own gift and realized what he'd done.

Feeling magnanimous, Blair exited the bathroom with something approaching his usual spirits. He found that Jim had turned off the lights in the loft, leaving the room lit by the glow of Christmas tree lights and the fire. Jim was sitting on the couch, a glass in his hand, and he looked up with a welcoming smile as Blair entered the room. Blair settled down on the couch beside him and accepted his own glass of cider.

"It's a beautiful tree, isn't it, Jim?" Blair murmured, contentedly snuggling closer.

"Best I've seen in years, Chief," Jim said softly.

Blair covered Jim's hand with his own, well aware from past talks that Christmas in the Ellison household had been a farce following his parents' divorce. "I'm glad. I want you to have only *good* memories of Christmas from now on."

Jim entwined his fingers with Blair's and said, "I remember how excited Steve and I would get when we were little, and how we always begged Mom to let us open just one present. She'd laugh and shake her head, telling us that we had to wait till Santa came. But she'd let us have our stockings on Christmas Eve. I remember they'd be full of candy, with a big orange in the toe, and there'd always be a little toy tucked in as well."

"Your mom sounds great," Blair said softly.

"You know, we should continue that tradition," Jim said suddenly, turning to look down into Blair's face. "Let's open our stockings tonight."

Blair snickered. "Jim, I can just about guarantee that you won't find a toy in your stocking this year."

Jim ignored him, getting up and fetching the stockings from where they lay by the fireplace, and Blair grinned at the look of anticipation on his lover's face. Jim Ellison, overgrown child, he thought fondly, accepting his stocking as Jim settled at the other end of the couch with his own booty. He watched as Jim upended his stocking in his lap, dumping out peppermint and chocolate, and snickered again, then turned his attention back to his own stocking.

Blair upended his own stocking, then frowned as nothing tumbled out into his lap. He looked into it and saw that a large envelope was blocking the way and pulled it out. There wasn't anything written on the outside of the envelope, so he slit it open and pulled out the contents.

And then sat staring in open-mouthed surprise at the legal document in his hand. A property deed making him the half-owner of the loft. He looked over at Jim, dumbfounded. "Jim?"

"This is your home, Chief," Jim said softly. "This just makes it official. There's also a copy of my will, and my life insurance policy."

There was a look in Jim's eyes, an expression of such profound love that it brought tears to Blair's eyes. He swallowed hard, suddenly ashamed that he had ever doubted Jim. How could he imagine that his lover would forget him on Christmas? "God, Jim," he managed to croak. "This is…I never thought…" He shook his head, unable to continue.

Jim grinned. "A speechless Sandburg. Simon will never believe it." He gestured at the stocking. "There's more, Chief."

More? Blair reached blindly into the stocking, his fingers closing around a small velvet box, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. "Jim? Is this…it this what I *think* it is?"

"Well, it's too small to be a watch," Jim teased, "so if you were *really* holding out for one, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Blair slowly opened the box and stared down at matching gold bands. He touched them with a trembling finger. "I didn't expect this."

"I know we haven't talked about this, about making us permanent," Jim said quickly. "And you don't have to decide right now. I just - I wanted you to know how I felt. I know I don't say it often enough - "

"Jim," Blair interrupted. "The answer is 'yes'."

Jim smiled, relief lighting up his face. "Good. Great. That's - You mean it, Chief?"

Blair held out the open box. "Jim, stop talking and put it on me."

Jim's smile widened and he took Blair's ring out of the box, sliding it onto his lover's ring finger. "I love you, Blair."

Blair leaned over to kiss him. "Me, too." He took the other ring out of the box and slid it onto Jim's finger, then kissed him again.

They kissed for a long moment, with increasing passion, until Jim pulled away enough to murmur, "There's more."

"More?" Blair reached into the stocking for a third time, pulling out a tube of lubricant. He raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Jim, and his lover shrugged, a little sheepishly.

"I thought we might want to get started on the honeymoon right away."

Blair laughed and, crawling back up his lover's body, said, "I think that sounds like an excellent idea. And Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I think opening stockings on Christmas Eve is a great idea, but I've got an even better one in mind."

"What's that?" Jim asked, his voice a little rough as Blair was stroking and kissing him with obvious carnal intent.

"Opening *you*."

Jim groaned and his head fell back on the couch in open invitation. Blair smiled wickedly and dove in.

There was something to be said for traditions…old and new.

End

MISCELLANEOUS: DANTE/RANDAL (CLERKS)

Title: Baby's First Christmas
Author: Pip's Sister
Fandom: Clerks
Pairing: Dante/Randal
Rating: NC-17 for explicit m/m sex and language that probably shouldn't be used around a baby
Archive: Yes, but please tell me first.
E-Mail: felicitypirrip@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Dante Hicks, Randal Graves, Jay, Silent Bob, Brodie Bruce, Rene Mosier (one day those two will actually appear in a fanfic of mine and not just be mentioned), and Randal and Dante's parents are all the property of Kevin Smith and the View Askewniverse. All toys and book references are property of their respective owners.  Felicia Wanda Graves and Lex Luthor Bruce are mine.  If you really want to use them, I can't stop you, but you're still a sad little person.
Notes: Part of the Slash-Advent Calendar situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent  Thus, this is slash. Flaming over that principle is not cool.  This is a follow-up to that odd male pregnancy fanfic I wrote.  (Look, I'm sorry.  I miss my childhood and I still hate Ron Howard for that freaking live-action Grinch movie and I need to vent in some fashion.)  This is a bit sweeter than that humorous fic, though.
Acknowledgements: I'd like to thank the many children in my life who blended together to make little Miss Graves.  I would never, ever, ever show them this story.

BABY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS

Randal Graves smiled as he took another peek back into the bedroom that he shared with Dante.  His lover was still asleep, curled up on the bed, totally unsuspecting.  Oh, this was going be too good.

Okay, now to put the plan into action.  Randal glanced down at his daughter, who was sitting on the floor playing with the plush Mooby that Randal's parents had bought her as an early Christmas present.  Felicia had grown quite a bit in these six months, and she was as inquisitive and strong-willed as anything.  Everyone who met her predicted she'd be a nightmare when she learned to walk.  Randal could believe it, but that didn't mean he didn't like to encourage a streak of not-so-proper behavior.

He picked up his daughter and held her in his arms.  "This, 'Licia, is called 'How to piss off Dante.'  You'll appreciate this when April Fool's Day comes around."

Felicia showed her appreciation by attempting to bite Mooby's ear off.  Randal smiled and pulled a CD out of his pocket.

Randal and Dante kept a stereo in their room, a present from some alliance or something that promoted gay childcare. God knows what a stereo had to do with raising a child, but it would prove useful tonight.  Randal grinned evilly at his daughter as he popped in the CD and went to track seven.

"Dante hates this song." Randal whispered conspiratorially.  "His second most hated Christmas song.  I would have played the one he really hates, that schmaltzy one about that kid who's buying his dying mom a new pair of shoes, but doesn't have the money.  Such sentimental crap, but a bit too quiet.  This will be fun."  He pushed the stereo in Dante's direction, turned the volume up to ten ("But these speakers go up to eleven." he whispered), pressed play, and then ran out of the room, his hands covering his baby's ears as he did so.

The reaction was priceless.  As soon as the opening music began, Dante violently bolted out of bed, smacking against the headboard as he did so.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas." sang the stereo.  "There's just one thing I need."

"RANDAL!"

The blonde man simply laughed as Dante shut off the stereo and threw a pillow in his direction.  "Hey!  I'm holding a baby here."

Dante frowned.  "Right, hide behind her.  Very adult of you."

"I'm just protecting myself."

The dark-haired main simply groaned and rubbed his head. "Yeah, well you can't hide behind her forever."

"Watch me," Randal smiled.

"Please.  You'll put her down as soon as her diaper starts to smell."

Randal laughed again as Dante rested back on the bed.  "Hey!  What are you doing?  It's Christmas.  Get up."

Dante blinked.  "Why?"

"Because I want to go out in the snow and fuck you in front of everybody. To open presents, stupid."

Felicia cooed and chewed on Mooby, almost as if she was indicating she agreed with Randal.

Dante sighed and got up.  "Okay, okay."  He stretched and pulled on a robe.  Randal threw his hand around Dante's shoulder as they walked to the living room.

~*~*~

Dante and Randal had bought a house late in the summer of that year: a little one-story two bedroom on the outskirts of Leonardo.  It was relatively new, not something that was really built on land, but pre-built in some factory and plopped onto whatever spare land the builders could find.   It was boring, but unfortunately it was pretty much all one could get in the densely-populated Tri-Town area these days.

It was a nice place, though.  The three of them had enough room to live comfortably and well.  And besides, Dante had made the point that when Felicia started to walk, they probably wouldn't want a large house, anyway.

And yet as Dante and Randal looked over the semi-large pile of presents from various well-wishers (why had the birth been so highly publicized, anyway?  It's not like they particularly cared when Randal was pregnant.), Dante wondered if maybe they should have brought a bigger house.

"Where are we going to put all this?" complained Dante as he picked up yet another present.  "Felicia has so many toys as it is."

"Do you have to find fault in everything?" Randal sat on the floor, Felicia between his legs as she struggled to grab a pretty green bow off of a red box that was just out of her reach.  "We're getting free toys!  Stop your bitching."

Dante sighed and sat down next to him.  "I know, but I really hate accepting this stuff sometimes.  It's not like we're a charity."

"Have you looked at your paycheck recently?" Randal asked.

"That's not what I meant."

"Whatever.  It's not like any of these toys are exactly quality, anyway."

"What's wrong with them?" asked Dante.

"Man. they're just baby toys.  It's not like there's any Star Wars action figures or anything good here.  Toys don't get really fun until the kid's like, three or something.  Until then you can't even get the kid a freaking Mr. Potato Head."

"Some of them are fun." Dante picked up a small box and looked at Felicia.  "You wanna see what a total stranger got you, kitten?  Let's see what he got you."

Randal laughed as Felicia watched, spellbound as Dante opened the present.

"What is it?  What is it?" he chanted.  "Hey!  It's an Eeyore."  Dante wiggled the stuffed animal in front of his daughter's face.  "What do you think?"

Felicia whimpered and tried to grab for the wrapping paper.

"Or not."

"I told you."  Randal said.  "Baby toys aren't cool."

"Hey, I like Eeyore!" Dante hugged the stuffed animal.

"Why?  Because he's overly pessimistic martyr like you?"

Dante just frowned.  "Or maybe he's just a classic A.A. Milne character."

"Tigger could kick his ass."

"Tigger couldn't even sustain his own movie."

Randal waved him away.  "Speaking of movies. did we get that new Winnie the Pooh Christmas movie?"

"No. They gave us movies?"

"Yep."

"DVD, right?"

"Listen to you: 'DVD, right?'  Like a kid really wants to hear the director's commentary for the Rollie Pollie Ollie movie."

Dante rolled his eyes.  "Forget I asked."

"Yeah, they're on DVD."

"See, you could have just said that."

"Aw, but where would be the fun in that?" Randal tickled Felicia.

Dante looked at Felicia.  "Look at Randal, trying to win your affection after insulting me.  He's such an asshole, isn't he, kitten?"

Randal pushed Dante's forehead, almost throwing the other man back.  "You're the asshole.  And Felicia thinks I'm hilarious.  Don't you, 'Licia?  You think Randal's so funny."  He tickled the baby and she giggled sweetly.

Dante sighed and picked up a thin, rectangular present that looked like a DVD case.  Randal continued to tickle Felicia and talk to her in the third person.  "Randal's going to show you this present now."

The dark-haired man shook his head at the memory.  After about six hours of debate, Dante and Randal had eventually decided to teach Felicia call them by their real names.  It just seemed like the simplest and most attractive idea.  Randal absolutely refused to be called "Mom" and Dante didn't like the idea of them both being called "Dad." ("Too confusing.")  They'd tried to mix it up, like "Dad and Daddy" or "Daddy and Papa" but one of them would have some sort of problem with their given name and they'd have to let that idea drop.    There was the idea of them both being called "Daddy Randal and Daddy Dante" but Randal thought that those names sounded like some sort of fetish-club names.  Randal then suggested he'd have the "Dad" title and Dante could be called by his real name.

"No way," Dante had said.  "If you're the Dad, then what am I?  I don't want her to be sixteen and arguing with her about a curfew and have her say some sort of shit like, 'You can't tell me what to do.  You're not my real father.'"

"Don't you think she would say that to you anyway?" Randal pointed out.

"Well. maybe.  But we don't need to make it obvious."

Randal sighed.  "Hey, look.  If it makes you feel any better, she can call me by my real name too."

The idea surprised Dante at first.  "What?  So we'd just be Randal and Dante?"

Randal shrugged.  "I don't have a problem with that.  Do you?"

He didn't.  So much for all that debate, then.  Dante opened the present.

"Aw, man!" Randal complained.  "The fake Grinch?  Yuck."

Dante blinked and looked at the box.  "The fake Grinch?  What?  It's fake just because it's live action?"

"Man, if you want to do Grinch you have to do the Chuck Jones cartoon with Boris Karloff and that guy who does the voice of Tony the Tiger.  Not this bullshit with Jim Carrey as the Grinch."

"I thought he did a good job," said Dante.

"Sure, he did a good job, but he was given such a crappy script.  There was nothing wrong with the Grinch, why did they have to add all that extra shit?"

"They had to fill out the movie somehow."

"I don't care!  The Grinch isn't supposed to have an origin story.  'The Grinch hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season.  Now please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.'" Randal recited.  "It's right there in the fucking text and then they go and add this bullshit about him being some kid who was always picked on in school and blah blah blah."

"Hey, at least they tried to explain what the Grinch was," Dante pointed out.  "I mean, there doesn't seem to be any other Grinches.  How'd a big green. thing like him get stuck with a bunch of Whos?"

"He's the Grinch!  Who cares where he came from?  The species created by Dr. Seuss don't need to have any rhyme or reason to them or follow Darwin's laws of evolution.  Take the book Scrambled Eggs Super.  There's this bird there that has legs as long as a telephone pole, so when she lays the eggs, they just crash to the ground and crack open.  Now how the hell would a species like that survive?  It couldn't!  Thus, that just goes to show you that you can't take the works of Dr. Seuss too seriously."

Dante just stared at Randal.  "Do you ever listen to yourself when you talk?"

Randal just opened another present.  "Oooh!  Look, a ring toss!  I remember these things."

"Hey, yeah." Dante pulled one of the rings off of its yellow stand.  "Of course, it's not a real ring toss.  The only way you can really win is by standing over it and dropping it down and even that's shaky."

"Whatever, it looks like a ring toss."

Dante handed Felicia the ring, which she immediately grabbed and started sucking.  "The good stuff never dies.  Right, kitten?"  Dante tickled his daughter's stomach and she giggled.

Randal shook his head.  "Okay, so we'll actually send a thank you note to that person.  Let's see what else..."  He picked up a long, rectangular box which Felicia immediately tried to grab.

"Oooh, what's that?" Dante asked Felicia enthusiastically.

Randal ripped off the paper.

"It's a. Oh, God, it's a clown."

"Hey, show some respect," Randal said.  "This is Flappy of Flappy's Funhouse.  Hey!  He kind of looks like you."

"No he doesn't."

Randal didn't listen and opened the box, taking out the doll, which was strapped to the cardboard backdrop inside in millions of different ways.  "Fucking over-packaged bullshit." Randal grumbled and immediately went to work untwisting some of the ties.  After he got one of the hands free, he placed it on the floor.  Felicia immediately grabbed for it.

"Woah, woah." Dante yanked it out of her hand before she could get it to her mouth.  "That's not for you, kitten."  He put the tie in his pocket and then picked her up.  "Let's see what else we have."  He picked up a small box and shook it.  Dante smiled when he heard the familiar jingle.  "Oh, Dante knows what this is."  He opened the box and took out a large, shiny plastic apple with a smiling face planted on it.  He knew it.  Dante shook it and Felicia giggled and the musical sound.  "You know what, kitten?  Dante says Pokemon can take a hike.  They should never stop making toys like this."

"Awww, that's so cute," Randal cooed as he finally got Flappy free.  "Snobby Dante asks if his child's movies are in digital and yet he still gets wet over a gigantic, jingly apple."

"Aw, fuck you and your stupid clown doll too."

"Hey, I happen to like the clown doll," said Randal.  He waved the doll in front of Felicia's face.  "This doll looks like Dante.  It's the Dante doll.  Can you say Dante doll?  Daaaante doll."

"She won't say it.  I've been trying to get her to say my name for weeks and she just blows spit bubbles at me."

"Whatever," Randal said and turned back to Felicia.  The baby giggled as her father shook it in front of her face.  "Say 'Dante-doll,' Felicia.  Say 'Dante-doll.'"

Felicia opened her mouth and closed it a few times.  Randal smiled, "See, she's trying."

"She did that to me, too." Dante rubbed his fingers through his daughter's soft blonde curls.  "Don't get your hopes up too high, Randal."

"Say 'Dante-doll,'" Randal repeated.  "Say 'Dante-doll.'"

Felicia's blue eyes were wide as her father waved the colorful object back and forth in front of her again and again.  Then she looked up at her other father as he stroked her blonde hair.  He smiled at her.  She smiled back, the familiar sounds of Randal's voice (which she'd been hearing before she'd been born, although she had no way of knowing that now) in her ears.  He was making one over and over again.  Da. Da.

"Damme-all."

She realized the father holding her had stopped stroking her hair.  Dante looked at Randal in shock.  Randal just smiled.

"Dante-doll," he repeated.

"Damme-all."

"Dan-TE-doll.  Dan-TE doll"

"Damte-doll."

"Dante-doll."

"Dante-doll."

"That's it!  Good girl!"

"Dante-doll."

"Ha!  See?  She said it, Dante!  She said it!"

"Dante-doll."

Dante sighed.  "I still say that doll doesn't look like me."

"Dante."

"I'm kidding!" Dante smiled and hugged Felicia.  "God, she talked."

Randal smiled and edged closer to his lover and daughter.  He put the doll in his daughter's arms.  She immediately hugged it.

Randal just looked at Dante.  Dante looked like he could cry.  "We'll have to write whoever sent that a thank you note, too."

Randal laughed.  Dante bent over and kissed his daughter's head.  "We love you, you know."

"We do," nodded Randal.

"Dante-doll." said Felicia.  "Dante-doll."

~*~*~

"Silver bells (silver bells) silver bells.  It's Christmas time in the city.  Ring-a-ling, (ring-a-ling), hear them ring.  Soon it will be Christmas day."

Randal peered down into the crib.  Felicia was sleeping soundly, her Flappy doll lying next to her, her apple and "ring toss" in the corner of the crib and her Spider-Man blanket (a gift from Brodie and Rene) draped over her body.  Oh, and they couldn't forget the cloud pajamas: another present from Randal's parents.  (Dante's got her the real Grinch DVD.  Randal had a new respect for his mother-in-law after that.)

Wow.  It'd been a dream of a day.  After they opened the presents and watched the DVD they'd gone outside in the snow until lunch.  For the rest of the day they'd basically played with the baby and her new toys until she was tired.  That was where they were now.

Dante re-adjusted the blanket.  "Do you think she knows we love her?"

"Dante, if she could sleep through your awful voice, I'm sure of it."

At that Dante slapped Randal, but the blonde man just laughed and dodged.  "Come on, Dante.  I have to give you my present."  He patted Felicia on the head.  "Good night, 'Licia."

"Merry Christmas, kitten," added Dante.

With that, the two fathers left the room, leaving the door open in case the child cried.

"Hey." Dante said.  "You don't think that doll's going to attack her like in Poltergeist or."

"Oh, will you give it up?  You and your stupid coulrophobia."

"My what?"

"Your fear of clowns."

"I'm not afraid of clowns.  I just don't like them."

"Whatever," said Randal as they reached the living room.

Dante plopped down on the couch.  "So, what's my present?"

"Let me get it."  Randal ran out of the room.  "Close your eyes."

Dante did so.  "Closed."

"Okay."

Dante heard movement and then the feeling something hard and light laid across his lap.  He opened his eyes.  It was a picture of the three of them at the beach.  Dante was holding Felicia in his lap as Randal hugged him around the neck.  Dante was actually shocked.  The three of them looked so perfect together.  So happy.  You would have never known that Dante and Randal had argued over every stupid thing possible that morning.  Or that the baby had spit up all over her new car seat earlier that morning.  Or that Randal had gotten some ridiculous e-mail saying how they were raising the child to be a demon or something.  They got one of those every two weeks or something.  But there. they looked absolutely perfect and happy.

"Wow. that's. that's quite a moment."

"Yeah," Randal nodded.  "Almost makes you ignore the topless woman swimming in the ocean."

"What?" Dante squinted at the background.  There was one indeed.  "Oh, thanks Randal!  Now I'm just gonna be looking at that whenever I see this picture."

"Hey, I figure it's like that picture Michelangelo did of the holy family with the five naked guys in the background."

Dante sighed.  "You want to see the present I got you.  It's not anything big.  And it's kind of like this one: it's for the three of us.  But I worked kind of hard on it."

"Oh yeah?"

Dante left the room, then came back in, a present decorated with Star Wars wrapping paper in his hands.  Randal laughed and opened it carefully, struggling to preserve it.

"Let's see.  What is.?" Randal blinked.  "Aw."

Dante smiled as Randal ran his fingers across the title of the book.  "Portraits of Our Baby."  He opened it up.  A picture of Randal and Dante after Felicia's birth.  A picture of Jay and Silent Bob ogling the baby from behind a glass window.  Their new house.  The three of them setting up the room.  The Christening.  Felicia and Lex Luthor playing in a playpen.

Then Randal laughed.  "Oh God.  I remember these pictures."

"The baby torture pictures?"

"Yep."  Randal shook his head as he glanced through pictures of the two of them taking Felicia out of a mailbox, pretending to throw her in the trash, pretending that she was getting crushed by Dante's car.  There was one where Randal put her on a plate while Dante held utensils over her as if he were about to eat her.  There was another with Randal showing her a copy of "Playgirl" and Dante raging in the background.  Randal laughed again.  "This is the sign of parents who have way too much time on their hands."

"Well. we're only having one," said Dante.  "Might as well show her off.  Besides, it always makes people laugh whenever we show them."

Randal laughed and nodded.  He then edged closer to Dante and took his hand in his.  "Thanks, by the way."

"Oh.  Well, no problem." Dante smiled.

"No, really."  Randal looked at Dante.  "You. you really love her, huh?"

"Well, of course.  She's our daughter."

Randal nodded.  "I know.  But she didn't have to be your daughter.  I was thinking about that the other day.  You didn't have to say yes."

"I wanted to, though," said Dante.  "Sure, I was worried at first, but Silent Bob was right.  I do love you."

Randal smiled.

"Hey," said Dante.  "I got a question.  .why me?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you fall in love with me?"

Randal smiled.  "You're my best friend.  I love you, man."

"But that's not quite the same thing."

Randal shrugged.  "It always was for me."

Dante shook his head, "I."

He stopped short.  Randal's lips were on his own.  The kiss was sweet at first, and then slowly became more demanding.  Randal's tongue pried into Dante's lips.  Dante wrapped his arms around Randal and held him close.  They kept kissing, their tongues maneuvering and massaging one another as they struggled to pull each other closer.  Finally, Randal straddled Dante and pushed him back on the couch.

Dante shivered as he felt Randal's fingers struggle to unbutton his pants.  "It's been awhile." he whispered.  "We've been so tired."

"Consider it another Christmas present," whispered Randal as he pulled off his shirt and started to work at removing Dante's.  Randal's hands then explored Dante's chest.

Dante moaned as he felt Randal's callused fingers pinch and prod his nipples, bringing them to a peak.  He pulled Randal down towards him and began to kiss his neck, smiling to himself as he felt Randal shudder in his arms.  When he started to remove Randal's pants, he started laughing.

"What is it?" asked Randal.

"Us." Dante laughed, and then moaned as Randal's hands began tracing the front of his boxers.

Randal pushed Dante's pants and boxers down and wriggled them off his legs.  "What's so funny about us?"

"We're fucking parents." moaned Dante as Randal got up and ran off to their bedroom.  Dante waited until Randal came back, lube in hand.  "We're fucking parents and here we are, about to fuck on the couch like teenagers."

"Isn't it beautiful?" Randal smiled as he pushed down his pants and handed Dante the lubricant.  "Or what?  Did you think parents never had sex?"

Dante sat up squirted some of the lubricant on to his fingers.  "No, I just. Well, I just pictured that if I was ever to be a father."

Randal stood up and bent over, and Dante pressed a finger into Randal.  He gasped sharply, then moaned as he felt the warm liquid being rubbed inside him.

"Randal?"

"Humh.?"

"Did you hear me?"

Randal moaned he felt Dante's fingers move inside him.  God, he was so hard right now.  "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said if I was gonna be a father, I thought I'd be the. well, normal father, having some sort of special, bonding sex with the mother of my children."

Randal laughed harshly and moaned as Dante removed his fingers.  Randal then lay next to Dante on the couch, his head lying on the pillow near the armrest and his ass near Dante.  "And you're not doing that now?"

"You didn't want to be called 'Mom.'  But. I don't know.  I didn't think I'd ever find myself in this position as a father."

Dante edged closer to Randal and lay on his side next to him.  Randal lifted up one of his legs and slowly, ever so slowly, Dante pressed his cock into Randal.  Dante shuddered immediately at the feel of entering the tight opening and as he got further and further in he began to moan.

Randal gasped as his body adjusted to Dante's cock.  "En." he moaned.  "Enjoying it?"

Dante laughed harshly as he started to fuck Randal, slowly thrusting in and out of the other man's ass.  "To say the least." he whispered.

Randal nodded and gasped as Dante shifted and pushed again.  "Oh God. do that again."

Another push.  "That?" asked Dante.

"Mmm. yes," Randal moaned hotly as he felt Dante push into him again and again.  He leaned back on the couch.  He closed his eyes as he basked in the feel of being fucked again and again.  Oh God, it felt so good.  And so. tantalizing. in a way.  Dante was going slow, a necessity when you went for sideways, and it both satisfied and maddened Randal.  He kept wanting more and quickly and there was only so much. but God, Dante was so hard.  He moaned and begged and pleaded.

And Dante only kept going.  His breathing became heavy as he pressed into Randal again and again.  God, he loved this.  Randal could say what he wanted about him being a bitch (and Dante could be if he felt so inclined), but there was no doubt from the way his blonde lover was moaning that Randal wanted this as much as he did.  As he continued to fuck him, Dante chronicled every moan and sigh that Randal made, and it only turned Dante on more.  God, sometimes he felt he could just come with one hot breath from Randal.

Eventually, after an eternity (hours?  minutes?), Randal felt Dante's hand moving over his thighs.  Dante then wrapped his hand around Randal's shaft and began to stroke him hard.  Randal moaned and struggled not to buck his hips as every rational thought in his head disintegrated into nothing but pleasure. then pain as he felt his body tense up.  He was close. he was so close.  No, forget close.  He was fucking there.  Dante's hand grasped around him one more time and he was gone.  Randal let out a gasp and came.

Dante wasn't far behind.  He thrust himself forward twice with all his might and then released his seed into Randal, groaning as he did so.

Dante pulled out of Randal and then lay back on the bed.  Randal groaned and got up.  He climbed on top of Dante and pulled him close, running his fingers through his hair and giving him a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Dad." Randal smirked.

Dante shook his head.  "Dante.  We're supposed to call each other by our real names."

Randal just sighed and shook his head.  He kissed Dante.  "Fuck you, I'll call you whatever I want."

"Asshole."

"Prick."

Dante paused, and then suddenly laughed again.

"What?"  Randal realized what they just said and laughed too.  "Oh. Wow.  That was bad."

"We're getting corny in our parenthood," commented Dante.

"Just a bit." Randal kissed his lover.  "Merry Christmas, Dante."

"Merry Christmas, Randal."

The End.