Title: Christmas in the Coatroom
Author: Penemuel
RATING: hard R
Pairing: Clark/Lex, established relationship
Fandom: Smallville
Completed: 11/30/02, for release on 12/23/02
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me -- I'm just playing with them and will give them back when I'm done. They may be a little sticky, though
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Archived: also at http://www.squidge.org/~penemuel/clubzero.html once the stories are released
Feedback Email address: arkadi_1@yahoo.com
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none, really
Summary: Lex hides out at another LuthorCorp holiday party

***

Christmas in the Coatroom
by Penemuel

"So, it's true," Clark said, grinning broadly and stepping into the coatroom, then closing the door behind him.

Lex looked up from the book he was reading, scowling because of the interruption until he saw the expression lighting up Clark's face. "What's true?"

"That you hide out in the coatroom during the LuthorCorp holiday parties," Clark explained. "Lana let it slip one day."

"Ah," Lex said, nodding sagely. It was a good thing he never thought to share any *real* secrets with the girl. "So, you look a little frazzled, Clark -- not enjoying the party yourself?" Lex tilted his head slightly, watching as colour flooded Clark's cheeks.

"Lots of young women who think I clean up nicely," Clark explained.

Lex nodded, well familiar with that problem, and answered, "And now you see why I'm in here. At least they're after you for your looks. They're just after me for my money -- they couldn't care if I looked like Sir Harry..."

Clark grimaced, then folded his lanky form into the space next to Lex. "You know, there's one way we could keep them from bugging us for good," he suggested, leaning in close and nuzzling Lex's cheek. "We go out there, make a few public displays of affection, and they'll take us off the eligible bachelor list..."

"As much as I'd *love* to do that, Clark, there are too many reasons not to," Lex answered, marking his place and putting the book aside. Turning to Clark, he continued, "First, it will make the rest of your high school career a real challenge."

"I can live with that," Clark answered, nibbling on Lex's earlobe. "I'm tired of hiding..."

"Second, Kansas *still* has those damned sodomy laws..."

"When you're governor, you'll take care of that," Clark whispered, reaching up to start unbuttoning Lex's shirt and sliding a hand inside to caress his lover's lean torso.

"I'm not governor yet... And third, it wouldn't work anyway. With my money, a gay lover isn't a very strong deterrent."

"Not even if I fuck you out on the buffet table?" Clark asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You don't know *how* appealing that sounds, Clark," Lex sighed, stretching his legs out and leaning against his lover's strong form. "But I'm afraid we have to behave ourselves..." His disappointment was obvious, until his lips curved in a sly smile and he added "...out there."

The grin Clark gave him in response was bright enough to outshine the Christmas tree in the banquet hall. "That's more like it," he murmured, practically picking Lex up and settling him astride his lap.

When Lex smiled and melted against him, he chuckled and said, "So, tell Santa what you want for Christmas..."

"Jesus, Clark," Lex hissed, instantly hard. "But I don't think I'm going to get anything from Santa -- I've been too naughty..."

"Oh, I don't know," Clark purred. "I think you've been nice. *Really* nice..." And then his large hands slid down to Lex's hips and pulled him in close. Lex moaned softly as he felt how hard Clark was, then writhed against him, grinding their cocks together.

"You're right, this is nice," he whispered, then leaned in to lewdly kiss Clark. "Even if I'm never going to be able to look at a mall Santa the same way again."

Clark chuckled and asked, "Do you ever go to malls, Lex?"

"Well...no."

"There -- no worries, then."

"Just don't try to come down the chimney -- I've got fires going in all the fireplaces."

"I'll keep that in mind," Clark murmured, returning his attention to unbuttoning Lex's shirt.

"Besides," Lex whispered huskily as Clark ran his hands over Lex's rapidly hardening nipples. "Your shoulders are too broad and you'll get stuck."

"And that would be... really annoying," Clark chuckled.

"And frustrating, too... God, Clark, I want you to fuck me raw, but we have to walk back through that party before we can make good our escape. We'd better just--"

"Suck me, Lex," Clark commanded, effectively silencing him.

"Yeah," Lex breathed, eagerly getting to his knees and backing down Clark's long legs until he could lie between them and be in *just* the right place. In moments, he had Clark's pants open and his cock down his throat.

"Oh yeah, Lex -- that's so *good*..." Clark moaned, unable to keep from thrusting up into Lex's mouth. "*So* good."

Lex smiled around his mouthful and intensified his attentions, starting to hum quietly as he sucked.

Clark groaned and thrust deep, relishing the vibrations the humming sent through his cock. Pleasure settled in his balls and flared up his spine, Lex's skilled tongue quickly making him helpless.

"God -- Lex -- I'm gonna--" and then he was arching up into Lex's amazing mouth, coming hard.

Lex swallowed eagerly, licking up every drop of Clark's offering. As the tremors faded, he gently laved Clark's softening cock, soothing his lover with tongue and hands.

"That was incredible," Clark breathed when Lex tenderly kissed his cock and tucked it back away. "You're amazing, Lex."

"Amazing and horny, Clark," Lex murmured, climbing back up to sit next to him. "Give me a chance to get this back under control," he whispered, motioning towards his own straining erection. "And then we're getting out of here. There's a bed in the penthouse that's waiting for us, and I'm definitely bored with this party..."

--end--

Title: Deck The Halls
by Karen Colohan (kcolohan@sidsplace.win-uk.net)
Fandom - Smallville
Pairing - Clark/Lex
Rating - PG
DISCLAIMER - Not mine, I couldn't afford the motor and household insurance bills. I promise I'll scrub them down and give them back to DC comics, the WB and anyone else who does own a slice of them  when I'm done with them. Story, such as it is, copyright Karen Colohan, December 2002.
Author's notes - With thanks as always to Barbara for betaing, even if she did kick my ass on this one!! Feedback is welcomed and always appreciated.
Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
SYNOPSIS - Clark wants Lex to celebrate Christmas properly.

DECK THE HALLS
by Karen Colohan

"Lex, why aren't there any Christmas decorations up anywhere in the mansion yet?" Clark asked as he watched Lex stroll easily around the pool table then casually bend to line up his next shot.

In fact, Clark had been expecting some sign of the approaching festivities to manifest itself for the past couple of weeks - the farm had been decorated for at least that long - but the rooms of Lex's home remained steadfastly bare of seasonal accoutrements.

After sinking the ball he'd been aiming for, Lex straightened up and looked across at Clark. "Why would I need Christmas decorations?" he asked.

"Have you checked the calendar lately?" Clark blinked in surprise. Surely Lex realised how close the holiday was getting. "It's barely a week until Christmas Day."

Lex gave a vague shrug. "Clark, I really don't bother much with Christmas these days, too many bad memories of Luthor parties..."

"The ones you hid in the coat room to avoid?" Clark grinned when Lex grimaced at the reminder.

Originally, Lex had told the story to Lana, but she hadn't been able to resist relating it to Clark as well, much to Lex's chagrin. Clark, on the other hand, had been delighted with this particular bit of knowledge about his friend. He rather enjoyed the mental image of a younger Lex escaping from yet another of his father's boring parties and then taking refuge amongst the guests' coats in order to avoid discovery.

Taking pity on Lex and not teasing him about it any more, Clark added, "I just thought that now you were more settled here in Smallville that you'd want to make the effort this year."

"Clark, it's just me and my father here." Lex gave a slightly bitter smile. "And Dad isn't really in a position to appreciate Christmas decorations."

Clark winced slightly at Lex's tone. He knew Lex still felt a measure of guilt for his father's blindness and he had little doubt that Lionel reinforced that feeling whenever he wanted to manipulate Lex into doing something. Nevertheless, Clark didn't think Lex should be using that as an excuse for not celebrating Christmas properly.

"That shouldn't stop you from decorating the place for yourself," Clark chided. "I'm sure the staff would help out if you asked them."

Lex sighed. "Really, Clark, there's no point. I have to go to Metropolis next week. I'm attending an event LexCorp is sponsoring on the twenty-fourth, so I won't be back here until Christmas Day. So you see, I wouldn't have the time to organise anything now anyway."

"Where will your Dad be then?" Clark asked, wondering if Lionel would be calling on his mother's services unexpectedly over the Christmas period. She hadn't mentioned anything about it, so Clark hoped that meant Lionel had given her the time off. "Is he going with you?"

Lex shook his head. "No, he picked out several LuthorCorp functions that he wanted to attend, said he would be damned if he was going to let his blindness prevent him from being there. As far as I know he'll be in Metropolis until the New Year."

"Well, at least he's being positive about things, right?" Clark said. "That's got to be good."

"Yes, I guess I should be pleased that he's making the effort like this." Lex gave a slightly cynical smile. "Truthfully, I think he just didn't want to be left here at the mansion on his own. After all, he could hardly be seen at the LexCorp function with me. That would make it look as if he actually approved of the venture."

Clark looked faintly appalled. "Lex! Can't the two of you at least call a truce for Christmas?"

"I don't think my father knows the meaning of the word," Lex replied, his lips quirking at the look of exasperation on Clark's face.

Clark frowned suddenly as he recalled what Lex had said about his own plans for the holidays. "Wait a minute, if your Dad's away until New Year that means *you'll* be on your own here on Christmas Day. That's not right..."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find something to do with myself," Lex insisted. He turned his attention back to the pool table, searching out his next shot. "You concentrate on having a good time with your family, Clark. That's what's important. I'll be fine."

Still looking unhappy, Clark watched as Lex leaned down and easily sunk another ball. He really didn't like the idea of Lex being left alone for Christmas in the cold confines of the mansion at all. Clark was determined to see what he could do to make sure Lex didn't have a miserable time over the holidays all by himself.

***

Eventually Clark thought of a plan to brighten up Lex's Christmas and he promptly enlisted his friend's staff to help him put it into practice.

It wasn't difficult to convince Lex's housekeeper - whom Clark had got to know quite well while making the weekly produce deliveries - to authorise the purchase of suitable holiday decorations, once he explained to her what he had in mind. Indeed, Clark soon discovered that she had been highly disappointed when Lex deemed them unnecessary in response to her own offers to acquire some.

Smiling, Clark had assured her that Lex would be pleased with the results of his surprise, even if it didn't seem that way now. Knowing the younger Mr. Luthor's regard for Clark, the housekeeper had been inclined to agree.

So, with her help, Clark made the arrangements for delivery of a large tree - *not* artificial - plus all the decorations and trimmings needed to make the mansion or, at the very least, Lex's office, look suitably Christmassy.

As agreed with Clark during whispered conferences held out of Luthor hearing, Lex's staff made sure everything would arrive when Lex and his father were both out of the house. Then they hid the items in one of the mansion's many unused rooms until both Luthors left for Metropolis.

On Christmas Eve, at the appointed time, Clark hurried over to Lex's place. He was admitted by his friend's housekeeper, who seemed well pleased with the progress of their plan to ensure Lex would celebrate Christmas properly. She showed Clark where the tree and its ornaments had been stored and then, with a smile, left him to it.

Happily, Clark ferried everything into Lex's office and then set about brightening the room up in an agreeably festive manner. First Clark situated the tree in one corner of the room, where it could easily be seen from the desk. Next he strung it with several sets of coloured lights before adding the delicate glass ornaments and plenty of silver tinsel. Eventually Clark topped the whole thing off with a large glittery star.

Then Clark made his way around the rest of the room, festooning garlands between the room's supporting pillars, across the front of Lex's book shelves and anywhere else he thought would look good. He also hung more glittering decorations in each of the windows, where they would catch the light during the day.

The desk itself acquired an edging of purple tinsel. Clark also left a bright card with a Christmas tree design on the desk's glass top, right where Lex would see it when he sat down. Inside he scrawled a message sending Lex Christmas wishes, telling his friend that he hoped he liked the new decor.

When he had used all the items that Lex's staff had left for him, Clark stood in the middle of the office, turning slowly to get the full effect. His mother might have done a more elegant job, but Clark thought it looked pretty good all the same.

Then Clark remembered the one remaining finishing touch that was required. It was something he had brought himself - a large bunch of mistletoe. Clark didn't think that he would ever have stopped blushing if he'd asked Lex's cook to get that for him. For that matter, Clark wasn't sure he cared to examine too closely his reasons for wanting to put mistletoe in Lex's office, but it still seemed right to have it there. Clark looked for the perfect place to hang it, eventually deciding on the room's central light fitting.

With all his preparations in place, Clark tidied away the boxes and packaging and said his farewells to the cook. She informed him that Lex was due back by lunch-time the following day and, if he ran true to form, Lex's first port of call would be his office.

Grinning to himself, Clark hurried home. He was looking forward to Christmas Day even more than he usually did, eager to find out what Lex's reaction would be when he came back from Metropolis and found his newly decorated room.

***

The following day dawned bright and clear, a light dusting of snow covering the fields outside Clark's window. Clark didn't linger in bed, preferring to get up and enjoy the routine of Christmas morning in the Kent household.

All the time, though, in the back of Clark's mind was the thought that Lex would be home soon and would find his Christmas surprise. Clark was sure he'd receive a phone call once Lex saw what he'd done and he was dying to know what Lex thought of it. He hoped it would make Lex smile. His friend hadn't really had much to smile about since his father came to stay at the mansion.

Also, Clark rather hoped that he'd be able to talk his parents into letting him go over to the mansion for a while, just so Lex didn't have to spend the whole day alone. Clark still didn't like to think of his friend on his own on Christmas of all days.

But lunch-time came and went and there was no phone call.

The afternoon stretched on and it slowly grew dark outside. As evening came, Martha served up the Christmas dinner she'd spent most of the day preparing. Clark sat down to eat with his parents, but somehow he didn't seem to have quite his usual appetite for his mother's admittedly delicious cooking.

Inside, Clark felt a disappointment that he tried not to think about too much. He wondered whether Lex hadn't liked the decorations, or if he had been annoyed with him for going behind his back like that. Clark told himself he was being stupid, and that Lex probably hadn't even seen them.

More than likely he had changed his mind and decided to spend Christmas in Metropolis after all. It made much more sense, instead of coming back to an empty house in Smallville. He was probably having a great time at some fancy party even now. At least it would mean Lex hadn't been left alone as Clark had feared. All the same, a part of Clark wished Lex had been there to enjoy his Christmas surprise, especially after he had worked so hard to make the office look special for him.

Dinner was long over, the dishes waiting in the sink to be washed, when the phone finally rang. Excitement propelled Clark out of his seat, but Martha was closer to the phone and picked up before Clark had the chance to. He hovered, expecting his mother to hand it over to him with some comment about it being Lex on the line. Except, she didn't. Instead she grabbed a scrap of paper and started scribbling down what looked like details of a produce order.

Clark was crushed. He had been certain the call was from Lex, but no, there was still no word from him. Clark knew he really shouldn't be this upset about it. It wasn't like Lex knew there was something waiting back at the mansion for him. All the same, Clark had held onto the mental image of Lex, his face shining with happiness as he stared at the lit tree. Now it stung, knowing that he had missed out on seeing Lex's reaction for real. It just wouldn't be the same once the holiday was over.

With a sigh, Clark slumped back down on the couch, barely hearing his mother finish her phone conversation. A moment or two later she came over to where Clark was sitting, her piece of paper in hand. He looked up at her, still feeling unreasonably miserable.

"Clark, sweetie," she said, "would you be willing to do me a really big favour?"

"What is it?" Clark asked. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.

"Well, the phone call was a request for a delivery," Martha said.

Clark looked startled. "On Christmas Day?"

Martha smiled. "That was Lex." Her smile grew even wider as Clark's expression instantly brightened. "Apparently he just got back from Metropolis and all his staff are away with their families today. He can't find any food in..."

"I'll do it!" Clark interrupted, practically bouncing up from the couch at the mention of Lex's name.

"Do what?" Jonathan asked, coming back into the room and catching the tail end of the conversation.

"A delivery to Lex's place," Clark replied, only belatedly realising it might not have been wise to mention his friend's name to his father.

"On Christmas Day? That is absolutely typical of a Luthor, expecting everyone to..." Jonathan suddenly noticed the way Martha was glowering at him and fell silent under the weight of her disapproving stare. When she kept on looking at him he sighed and added, "All right, just so long as you don't mind doing it."

Clark looked across at his mother and grinned in delight. Then he followed her into the kitchen as she began to load up a box with leftover turkey and all the trimmings, plus several of her home-made pies.

"Now, I know Lex would never ask for our leftovers," Martha said as Clark watched her carefully pack up all the items. "But if his cook isn't there..."

"Mom, I'm sure Lex does know how to cook for himself," Clark interrupted, laughing. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed his mother's tendency to want to feed Lex.

Martha looked sceptical. "If Lex's idea of cooking is anything like yours and your father's it would involve phoning for takeout, and I doubt anyone else is doing deliveries on Christmas Day."

Still grinning, Clark grabbed his coat and, as soon as his mother was done, lifted the box and headed for the door. Clark paused when she put a hand on his arm, looking back at her in question.

"If it's all right with Lex I don't see why you can't stay over at the mansion tonight," she said softly, just for Clark's ears.

Clark's eyes widened in surprise and he really hoped he wasn't blushing. "Mom?"

"No one should be alone at Christmas," she added with a gentle smile.

Clark turned and dropped a quick kiss onto her cheek before speeding out the door. He deposited the box with its sealed containers of food on the seat of the truck and hurried around to the driver's side. He wasn't going to wait around just in case she changed her mind. Clark could think of nothing better than having a Christmas sleep-over at the mansion. He hoped Lex would feel the same.

Starting the truck, Clark sped away as quickly as he dared on the icy roads. There was no other traffic and he made good time. The gates to the mansion opened as he approached and Clark drove all the way up the front drive. After parking the truck, Clark climbed the steps, finding the door unlatched. Once inside, Clark closed and locked the door behind him and, clutching his package of Christmas fare, went looking for Lex.

Unsurprisingly, Clark found him in the office.

The room was dark and shadowy, the main lights switched off. The only illumination came from the lit Christmas tree. Lex was standing a few feet from the tree, gazing up at the decorations that Clark had spent so much time getting just perfect.

Lex looked over his shoulder when he heard Clark enter the room behind him. He had an odd expression on his face that Clark couldn't quite place.

"This was your doing, wasn't it, Clark?" Lex asked.

Clark paused, still not sure if Lex was pleased with the decorations or not. "Yes," he said finally.

"Why?" Lex turned back to the tree. He reached out a hand, carefully touching one of the tinsel garlands and watching as the light caught and reflected from it.

"I wanted you to have a good Christmas, Lex." It was most of the reason. At least, as much as Clark was prepared to admit to. Clark's eyes followed Lex's careful exploration of the tree. "I thought you'd be here sooner."

Lex turned to face Clark. "My father managed to talk me into accompanying him to the traditional Luthor party. He told me it was more important than ever that we showed the world the Luthors were strong and united, considering his... condition." Lex sighed. "Guilt is a great motivator," he concluded wryly.

Clark grimaced at the tone of Lex's voice. "Did you hide in the coat room?" he asked, wanting to lighten the mood.

Under his breath Lex muttered, "I'm starting to seriously regret ever having told Lana that."

Clark flashed him a quick grin, easily hearing what Lex had said.

Smiling back at him, Lex shook his head as he continued aloud, "Not this year, that's one tradition I decided not to follow. But I did leave early; I really didn't want to be there." Lex looked at the brightly lit and decorated tree again. "You know, this is beautiful. Thank you, Clark."

Blushing just a little, Clark ducked his head. Then, abruptly, he remembered Lex's phone call to the farm.

"Are you hungry, Lex?" he said. "Mom sent plenty of food over for you."

A small grin quirked Lex's lips. "Actually, no. That was just an excuse to get you out here. I know how much your mother always wants to feed me up."

Clark's eyes widened at Lex's confession of subterfuge. "Oh. What should I do with all this then?"

"Just put it over on the desk for now," Lex instructed. "If there's any of your mother's home-made pie in there I'll have some later."

With a grin, Clark moved to deposit the box on Lex's desk. "Yeah, Mom sent a couple of those. She knows you like them."

The sound of Lex's soft laughter sent an unexpected shiver down Clark's spine as he turned back to look at his friend. Lex was watching him, an unreadable expression in his shadowed eyes.

"Clark," Lex said, walking slowly towards him. "There was one thing I was curious about." He stopped again in the middle of the room.

"What's that?" Clark asked, caught by the way the lights on the tree cast coloured patterns on Lex's bare scalp.

"I noticed something you'd included in the decorations," Lex said, his tone thoughtful. "I wondered why."

"Oh?" Clark frowned, not sure what Lex was referring to.

Lex's head tilted back and he looked up at the ceiling just above him. "This..." he said softly.

Following Lex's gaze, Clark found himself staring at the sprig of mistletoe. Oh. Clark blushed, feeling the warmth of his cheeks as Lex lowered his eyes, looking at him intently. Clark swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. The heat seemed to be spreading lower, tingling all along his nerves. Clark hurriedly squeezed his eyelids shut, until he had the feeling under control. He didn't think Lex would appreciate him setting the office on fire.

"I... Well..." Clark couldn't seem to find the words, pinned as he was by Lex's knowing stare.

"Come here, Clark," Lex commanded, his voice low and... sexy.

Clark groaned at the turn his thoughts had taken, but Lex didn't seem displeased by his reaction, quite the opposite in fact. Eventually, Clark managed to make his feet move and he came to a stop again just inches from Lex.

Lex's eyes seemed to glow a deep, clear blue in the light from the tree. He smiled at Clark, then glanced up at the mistletoe for just a second before his gaze came to rest on Clark's mouth.

"It seems a shame to let it go to waste..." It wasn't quite a question, nor precisely a statement.

Clark searched Lex's face, finding encouragement and affection in his expression.

"Lex..." Clark closed the remaining, tiny distance between them.

Carefully, Lex reached up, one hand curving around Clark's cheek as he urged him closer still. "Feel free to stop me at any time, Clark," he said, his thumb brushing Clark's lower lip softly.

Clark shook his head. "I don't want to," he admitted.

It was the simple truth. He did want the kiss that Lex's actions promised, though. Clark leaned into Lex's touch for a moment before bending down to meet Lex halfway. Their mouths met, just a gentle touch at first. Slowly, as they both grew more comfortable, the touch deepened into a careful, exploratory kiss.

Clark's eyes were wide, the pupils huge, when he finally pulled back. His whole body was singing its approval of the kiss, eager for more.

"God, Lex!" he said breathlessly, trying to marshal his thoughts. "Oh, there's something I forgot."

Heavy-lidded eyes tilted up to look at him. There was an almost dreamy expression on Lex's face. "Yes, Clark?"

"Um, you know, my Mom said I could stay over tonight... If that was all right with you?" Clark added hesitantly.

At that, Lex's gaze immediately snapped back into focus. "What? Why?"

"She said no one should be alone at Christmas," Clark replied, remembering his mother's smile.

Lex blinked. His fingers gently rubbed strands of Clark's dark hair, apparently fascinated by the soft, silky texture.

"I like your mother, Clark," Lex said with genuine warmth.

"So do I." Clark grinned. "Can I stay then?"

Lex gave him an assessing look before nodding slowly. "Yes, if you want to."

"I want to." Clark gave in to temptation, sliding his arms around Lex's waist, pulling him close and holding him there.

"Merry Christmas, Clark." Lex smiled up at him, allowing the closeness, enjoying it.

"Merry Christmas, Lex." And Clark bent his head to take advantage of the mistletoe, and his friend's warm lips, some more.

The End

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: The Silent Stars Go By
Author: Lyrastar
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: G
Summary: Set after the Immunity syndrome.  This is my dream, to follow that star.  And also recognizing Winter Solstice 2002 occurring Dec. 22 at 1:15am GMT.  The period of darkness is over; the suns again burn bright in the sky. The time is ripe for all things to blossom and to grow.
Disclaimer: The characters and all things Trek are the property of Paramount/Viacom.
Note: Part of the utterly awesome Slash Advent Calendar.
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent.
Feedback:  <lyrastarwatcher@yahoo.com>

THE SILENT STARS GO BY

"I am still looking forward to some shore leave on some lovely little...planet." He passed the padd back to the young ensign and sank heavily back in the command chair. With the giant organism dead and Spock's shuttle safely in the bay, his body finally gave in to the perils of the day. He felt the quivering of utter exhaustion begin in his legs, his stomach. He squelched it for the moment. He was still the captain; he would give in to it until he could be assured his ship, his people were all secure.

Just for a moment, he let his eyes hang low. He slipped into absolute blackness. The waking nightmare returned with full horror. The stars were gone! With a jolt he snapped his head back, opened his eyes. The starfield once again drifted across the viewscreen. Sheepishly, he looked around. His impeccable officers were all intently focused on their stations, busy ignoring the center of the bridge. That included one officer Kirk had not noticed make his reappearance.

Gripping the armrests of the command chair he pushed himself up and over to the science station. Resting one hand on the back of Spock's chair, he draped himself casually over the station, over his officer.

"Mr. Spock," he said with a calculated smile, "welcome back."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock responded coolly. "Coordinating damage reports now. While shuttlecraft systems will require extensive repairs, Enterprise proper is largely undamaged. No critical systems involved." Spock spun to face his dangerously close captain. Hands folded in his lap, his face betrayed nothing but consummate professional capability.

With a twinkle in his eye, Jim let him have this round. Absurdly, Spock's impassive public demeanor gave him as much satisfaction as any ebullient reunion, maybe more. The Spock of their intimate moments would remain for his eyes only. It would be their secret.

"Sickbay to captain," McCoy's gruff voice broke through the moment. "You're late for your appointment, Jim."

"Later, Bones," Jim answered wearily. "We are still cleaning up here. I have things to do."

"Well frankly Captain, sir," McCoy responded curtly, "between the effects of that dammed zone and the drugs I've had to pump into everyone, I'm a little busy myself. And number one on my list is to see to the welfare of the commanding officer before those stimulants either wear off or blow him to bits! You have five minutes to get in here or I'll send the medics up to bring you down forcibly. McCoy out!" He cut the transmission abruptly without waiting for a reply.

"Please go, Captain," Spock addressed him calmly. "I have been informed that I am next on the good doctor's agenda and I do not believe that his temperament will improve by being kept waiting."

On yellow alert, Jim asked quietly, "You all right?" His face spoke unabashedly of the grief they had so very narrowly avoided in a way that his voice never would.

Jim couldn't begin to explain how the Vulcan's face shifted. It was as serene as ever, and yet Jim knew with certainty that Spock too was most acutely aware of what they had come so terribly close to losing today. Of what they risked each and every day.

"Quite all right, Captain." The Vulcan inclined his head gravely. "I am not in need of medical attention, however I suspect I will find my next period of rest most agreeable."

For this he was rewarded with one of Jim's patented smiles. Was it only 19 minutes ago that he had known with finality that he had seen it for the last time? Death was nothing, but to be parted from this man was everything. He turned back to his station before the rest of the bridge could bear witness to his cataclysmic loss of control. Surak himself could not have stood fast against this man.

Round II went to the captain. Jim smiled with perfect comprehension. With a gesture that could have been casual but both knew was not, Jim trailed his fingers lightly across the stiff shoulders as he turned and headed for the lift.

He made it to sickbay hoping to reach a biobed before his over taxed body gave out entirely. Bones stopped him at the door with a hand against his chest. "Hold on, Jim. I've got a full house in there. Have a seat at the desk." Gratefully, Jim slid in just in time.

"I don't know what you were so worried about," the doctor muttered as he passed the scanner over his patient. "You can't kill a Vulcan--only short circuit them. In fact he'll probably want to go back several more times to run a heuristic study on the metabolic effects of the zone or some such nonsense." His voice held nothing but the familiar acerbity, but his hands were shaking too badly to set the hypospray. Jim pointedly said nothing as the doctor steadied his wrist to make the routine adjustment.

The hypo hissed into his deltoid. Jim started to rise. His knees buckled before he made it halfway up. He crumpled unceremoniously back into the chair.

Bones glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You know, Dr. Kirk," he said sarcastically, "you might want to sit still a few minutes to let your body detoxify and adjust to the lower adrenaline levels." He tucked the hypospray neatly away and plopped down on the edge of the desk looking all but spent himself. "But far be it from me to tell you what to do. I'm just a simple country doctor."

Jim tried to summon enough energy for a glare, but his eyelids had a different idea. He lowered his head to the desk, thankful for even the brief respite.

"Jim," McCoy said quietly after a minute, "it should have been me, you know."

"Hm?" Kirk mumbled. Even lifting his head seemed like too much effort.

McCoy continued, "I should have gone. It was my idea, my area of specialty. It should have been me." He spoke the words gently and evenly, with none of his usual rancor. Like a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis. No emotional tirade, just the simple painful facts to be borne. "If he had died--"

"I thought you noticed, Doctor, no one is dead." Jim's clipped tone indicated the subject was closed. At least for him.

McCoy would not be silenced. He said very softly, "If there were no other reason, I would have gone to keep you from having to send him."

For this, Jim lifted his head. In the depths of exhaustion he pulled a small smile from somewhere. "I know. And I also know he would never permit it. That's why I love you both."

This time Kirk did make it to his feet. The fatigue seemed less heavy somehow. Patting his old friend warmly on the shoulder, he straightened and returned to his bridge.

Minutes later Jim stood on the threshold surveying his domain. He took the moment to study his officers, his people. They had given them their trust, their heart, their soul, their all. It was nothing less than miraculous. How could he have ever thought anything else? How could he take any of this for granted?

Humbled, he reassumed the center seat. The central viewer was filled with the gentle rhythm of the passing stars, reassuring the bridge that all was again as it should be. Lost in thought, he felt more than heard Spock slip around to stand behind him.

"Spock," he asked, without turning from the viewer, "do you ever stop to look at the stars?"

"Affirmative, Captain. Astronomy observations are taken routinely; I provide direct supervision at least once a day, other duties permitting."

"Not study them, Spock, just look at them. How they twinkle and shine against the cold void of space. We see them everyday, take them as something so basic, so fundamental so much a part of our daily existence, that we don't ever really look at them any more. But they are so very beautiful.

"Do you ever just stop to admire them? Or the brilliant colors of the planets as they spin and turn against the black? Or the shifting beauty of the clouds cloaking and uncovering their world?"

"I have done so once," Spock responded flatly. The memory returned full force. He saw himself once again lying with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair; the spores stroked his mind. Violations of the body were standard issue for field personnel. Violation of the mind, of his Vulcan soul, now that was something else. It had taken him months to reconcile the alien influence with his concept of himself--who he was, who he would be, who he could be.

"For the first time in my life, I was happy," he had told his captain then. What he did not say was if he would have it be also the last time. All the teachings of Surak, all the tenets of modern day Vulcan argued against it. But he was also a scientist. The very nature of science was investigation of previously unknown quantities, was it not? Would it not be illogical to refuse to investigate these possibilities? At least that was what he told himself the day he turned his back on Vulcan.

"And?" Kirk probed with a quirky smile.

"While there were some redeeming features, I would not choose to repeat that exact experience," Spock said enigmatically.

"Mr. Spock, I don't think you have a romantic bone in your whole body." Jim waited for the inevitable playful rejoinder, but there was only silence.

Puzzled, he twisted around. Spock's face was unreadable, but, uncharacteristically, his hands rested not behind his back, but lightly on the top of the command chair. Jim searched his face and saw nothing but fierce control. Later for that. Later, in private. Right now they had a starship to lead.

Jim settled back in the seat, his shoulder pinning the fingertips, not accidentally. Jim gazed pensively at the screen, the shifting starfield, the glorious stars that had heralded their deliverance. In all the long days and months and years that he had spent in space he had had occasion to think of them as friend, mother, challenger, jailer. In all that time he had never seen them as deliverance--until today.

"Spock," he said reverently, "though all of mans' history the stars have been a focus of constancy.

"Ancient people considered the stars to be the home of the gods, the root source of everything important. Mariners trusted their lives to the stars--used them to steer the way to glory and adventure, then safely back home again. It is even said that a star guided the first followers across the desert to bring them to their savior.

"Can you imagine what it would be like? To cast your fate unto the stars--no turning back, all or nothing. To leave everything you have behind and to simply trust that the stars will lead you to home, life, happiness, salvation?"

"Yes," Spock replied looking straight ahead at the starfield. Or perhaps at the man centered in the foreground. "I can."

~fin

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Token of Love
By: Stely
Rating: G
Fandom: Star Trek
Summary: It's pretty short, so none needed.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Oh, woe to me.
Notes: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge found at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: Stellarangel2002@yahoo.com
Thanks to The Holiday Spot for the cool mistletoe info, check it out if you have a chance at www.Theholidayspot.com/Christmas/history/mistletoe.html

TOKEN OF LOVE

Perched on top of a chair, Kirk stopped what he was doing to admire the green shrub in his hand, studying its small, yellow flowers and white, sticky berries. Then, finished the task at hand and got down.

Admiring his handiwork from below, Kirk asked, "Spock do you know the legend of the mistletoe."

Spock, who had been wrapping the last of the Christmas gifts so they had perfect symmetry, looked up at Kirk and then at the direction Kirk was looking at," I am familiar with a variety of Earth customs and traditions, including that of the mistletoe. I know
that the word mistletoe translates to 'dung-on-a-twig.' The Druids believed."

"Yes, Spock, but I was thinking specifically about the Norse legend about the mistletoe. Do you know it?"

"Yes, I do, but I would like to hear it, if you do not mind telling it." 

"Well, it began with the Goddess Frigga. The story goes that Mistletoe was the sacred plant of Frigga, goddess of love and the mother of Balder, the god of the summer sun. One day, Balder had a dream of his death which greatly alarmed his mother. It so happened that if he died, all life on earth would end. In an attempt to keep this from happening, Frigga went at once to air, fire, water, earth, and every animal and
plant seeking a promise that no harm would come to her son. Balder now could not be hurt by anything on earth or under the earth. But Balder had one enemy, Loki, god of evil..."

"Loki was not the god of evil, he was specifically the...."

"Spock, for the sake of this story, he was the god of evil. Okay?"

"Jim, the."

"Please, can we suspend belief for a little bit?"

"Alright."

"So, Loki, god of evil," Kirk paused to make sure he wasn't interrupted, "knew of one plant that Frigga had overlooked in her quest to keep her son safe. It grew neither on the earth nor under the earth, but on apple and oak trees. It was lowly mistletoe. So Loki made an arrow tip of the mistletoe, gave to the blind god of winter, Hoder, who shot it, striking Balder dead. The sky paled and all things in earth and heaven wept for the sun god. For three days each element tried to bring Balder back to life. He was finally restored by Frigga, the goddess and his mother. It is said the tears she shed for her son turned into the pearly white berries on the mistletoe plant and in her joy Frigga kissed everyone who passed beneath the tree on which it grew." Kirk began maneuvering Spock and himself towards the doorframe of the living room, "The story ends with a decree that who should ever stand under the humble mistletoe, no harm should befall them, only a kiss, a token of love."

"Jim, you are aware that we are now standing below the mistletoe.

"Yes, I am."

"Then may I request a token of love, after all, Frigga's decree should be obeyed in the spirit in which it was made." Spock said while putting his arms around his lover of ten years.

"Do you really need to ask?" With that Spock took his lover in his arms and passionately kissed the Dickens's out him.

Merry Christmas, T'hy'la.

Mm, Merry Christmas Spock.

Finis

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: In for a Penny, In for a Pound
Author: Mary Willing Prey
RATING: PG
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy
Disclaimer: 1) I am not making any money. 2) I do not own the characters. 3) No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. 4) This story is for entertainment purposes only. It's parody people. I claim it under fair use.
Summery:
Notes: I am doing a lot of foot kissing to my betas at Preyland. They take my stuff and turn it into something wonderful. Only minimally beta'd (DH did it), but spell checked and grammar checked.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
More notes: Not canon. I know Spike has his soul back. This is my take on the whole 'losing/gaining' a soul thing. And I just dropped it into the Buffyverse sometime after Spike got chipped. But he's not enamored with Buffy. This happens after 'A Ha'penny Will Do'
Feedback Email address: Mary Willing Prey

IN FOR A PENNY, IN FOR A POUND
Mary Willing Prey

Spike heard something. Something he shouldn't hear, not at this time in the morning. He shifted into gameface to accentuate his senses. Xander was stirring on his lap so he shook the boy awake. "Pet." Shake and a hand over Xander's mouth. "Somethin's up."

Xander shook himself awake. Spikes gameface didn't disturb him, he knew what to expect. "What is it?" He asked quietly as he could knowing Spike could hear him easily.

"Someone's here. Hadda key." Spike had heard the key scratching in the lock. He strained his senses, ignoring the heavy beat of Xander's heart, straining to hear what was happening in the other room.

"Not a vamp." Xander whispered. "No invitation."

Spike nodded. He really didn't expect any other answer. "Heartbeat." Pause. "Human." Now if only the human would walk so that the scent would be carried to him.

Spike relaxed as the first tenuous tendrils of scent came to him. "It's Red."

"Willow?" Xander sounded surprised. "Why would she…" Xander groaned.

"Got somethin' you want to tell me?" Spike asked.

Xander rolled out of bed. "I gave her a key in case there was an emergency." He turned the bedside lamp on and went to the closet to pull on a pair of jeans. "I'll see what she wants."

Spike watched as Xander's naked body was slowly and rather clumsily covered. A yawn and a hand raked through his hair told Spike that Xander wasn't really awake, not that Spike blamed him.

Spike rolled out of bed as well. He'd been awake for sometime but didn't really want to waken Xander. Xander looked him over.

"Here." Xander took the robe that was hanging off the back of the door and tossed it at him. "If you're coming out, put something on."

Spike looked distastefully at the ratty blue robe. "I could just slip on my…" he looked around the room.

"Our clothes ended up on the floor in the living room, remember? And since this is my room rather than your room, it's either that or my pants." Xander wondered if Willow could hear this conversation even though he was trying to be quiet.

"You're not going to try to hide me, pet." Spike smirked fully expecting Xander to deny what happened last night.

"No." At Spike's look, he expanded. "I don't quite know what we have but I'd never try to hide it. Besides, I don't want Willow to get a free shot." At that statement, Xander went out the door.

The git's a little proprietary. Not something that Spike would have thought.

"Wills, what are you doing here?" Spike heard from the bedroom. He figured he better get moving.

~~

Xander went through the door wondering what would call Willow here so early on a Christmas morning. He ran his hand through his hair and put his other hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Wills, what are you doing here?" He said with a yawn. Willow was in the attached kitchen that took up the far side of the living room.

She turned sharply almost dropping the plate she had in her hand. "Xander." She breathed a sigh of relief. She gave a little shrug. "I thought I'd give you a Christmas breakfast. You know set up the coffee, put something in the oven to keep warm. I figured I could do it before you got up and while Spike was still…" she stopped talking.

Xander could hear Spike coming out of the bedroom. He walked by Xander, planting a kiss on his cheek, garnering him a sharp look from Xander.

Spike scrabbled around looking for his pants. "Want some coffee, pet?" He found his cigarettes in a pocket and took them out, lighting up and taking a deep drag. "Ahhh, breakfast." He looked at the pants in his hand. And figured he better put something on.

"Xander…you….Spike…" she stepped closer staring. She had only turned the lights on in the kitchen so he was in shadow. "What did you do?" Her hand shook as she put her hand out to Xander.

Xander stepped forward only to have Willow step back.

Spike could hear her heart start racing he looked her over sharply trying to detect what was causing her distress. He listened while he slipped his pants on. Her eyes were latched on Xander and…the bite on Xander's neck. He snickered at the memory. With his pants firmly secured, he dropped the robe to the floor.

But Willow was backing away from Xander and her heart rate was rising. "Red?" Spike questioned. He smelled the acrid scent of fear in the air.

Xander approached and Willow retreated, her eyes growing wide with fright. She turned to run but found she'd backed right into the wall.

Spike just watched as Xander closed in on Willow. He thought about getting closer but didn't want to increase her fear.

"Willow--I'm fine." Xander said.

Willow touched the marks on Xander's throat. "Oh." Xander finally understood. "Hey, feel me." He grasped Willows hands. "Warm. Heartbeat. Fine. Not vamped."

She started shaking and put her head on Xander's chest. "Fine--warm--heartbeat." Her fingers slipped out of Xander's grasp and rested over his heart. "Alive."

Suddenly her attention turned to Spike. "What did you do to him?" It made Spike almost step back. The witch usually was retiring rather than forthright. He was a little pleased to have her turn on him like this. "Did you charm him? Claim him? What did you do to Xander?" She was more than a little pissed.

"Nothing." He replied, figuring the worst was over. And heading towards the kitchen to get himself something.

"Spike," she stood in front of him. "You must have done something."

"Why?" "I'm fine." Both Spike and Xander spoke at the same time.

"Because he--and you--and what did you do to him?" She insisted.

Spike crushed the cigarette in his hand and tossed the butt away. "I shagged him into next week! That's it and that's all. I don't bloody well need to charm someone to get into his bed. All I took was a wee nip. Not even a snack." True, he'd wanted more but he wasn't willing to do more until he knew what Xander wanted.

"But…but…" she stuttered out.

"What's this charmed and claimed stuff?" Xander asked.

Spike turned on him. "You mean you don't KNOW?" Spike growled. It took a lot to stun Spike but Xander had done it. The surprise turned quickly to anger. He could have…. What he could have done to Xander.

"Uh--No?" Xander replied, confusion in his voice.

Spike paced back and forth for a second. "I'm going to get something to eat." He stomped off into the kitchen. Spike kept listening as he went into the kitchen. The coffeemaker had been set up so he turned it on but got out some blood for his breakfast. He thought about hot cocoa but he'd have some later when he wasn't so irritated.

Xander stared at Spikes disappearing back. "Willow," he finally said. "Why are you here?" As he turned the conversation back to where it started.

"Oh." She glared at Spike in the kitchen, who glared back.

"Well, I got together with Buffy and we decided that we were going to have a Christmas party this afternoon. I know you've been busy and thought I'd give you a surprise after the nice solstice gifts you gave us. And stuff." Her bravado seemed to evaporate. "We've been kind of ignoring you these past few weeks."

"And?" Xander questioned.

Willow sighed. "Giles showed up last night with an end of the world pronouncement."

Xander groaned. "Merry Christmas." Then apparently something occurred to him. "Did you come over here alone?"

Willow nodded. "I was going to leave you a note."

"You knew Spike was living here. You could have called and left a message yesterday." Spike got himself a mug as well as one for Xander. He wandered into the room and handed Xander his coffee. He figured he might as well put some lights on, as it seemed they weren't going back to bed anytime soon. "You shouldn't be out this early in the morning not even on Christmas Day."

Spike heard what she said and started to gather up his clothes and dress. "Did you bring your car?"

Willow nodded. "I thought it would be all right. I don't live that far away."

"I know, Red. But I'm going to make sure you get back in one piece. You," Spike spoke sharply to Xander. "When I get back we're going to have a long talk about charming and claiming. I thought…" Spike frowned and clamped his jaw shut so as not to say more. He swept on his duster.

Spike hustled Willow out the door and down to her car. He could get her home and safe before talking to Xander. It also gave him time to decide what to say.

~~

He'd finally calmed--somewhat. Vampires were just as able to deceive themselves as anyone else was. It was called charming in vampire circles. Taking a human's will to the point where devotion was the only purpose in the human's life.

He could charm Xander, but he had always been heavy-handed when it came to charming. He would charm humans until they needed to be told to eat. And sometimes he had forgotten about them and they starved. They had warmed his bed and were a handy meal if things got desperate.

He could claim Xander but he wasn't sure about that either. It would leave his personality intact but Xander would still be under Spikes influence. He wasn't sure that he would be able to resist that kind of temptation.

Xander apparently had not known what he had done when he'd offered Spike his throat during their--encounter, for want of a better word. Spike wanted it to be more than just a fuck.

Bloody git. Spike growled under his breath. Xander should have told him that it was his first time with a man. Spike wasn't the most considerate person--being in the world but he could have been gentler. He knew he had been far too rough for Xander's first time.

He took a deep breath. He didn't need to breath, but even after a hundred years, the act calmed him.

Xander was sitting up waiting for him, still wearing only his jeans. It might have been smarter if he hadn't been there, but he was. The room was warm so Xander had probably kicked the heat on. Spike skinned off his duster and dropped it on the arm of the couch. He swore to himself, despite it all he was going to keep his temper.

Spike sat down on the coffee table in front of Xander and stared at him. "I-uh-washed out your cup and put it up." Xander gave him a weak smile.

"Let me get this straight, pet." Spike was going to try to keep this calm. "You knew all about the soul thing, and you knew about my past but you didn't know about vampires charming humans?"

Xander squirmed. "I told you I helped in the research when Angel lost his soul. At that time, we did some studying about you as well. If you recall we weren't on the best of terms."

"Point taken." Spike agreed. "I can assume you never studied a lot about vampires. And their abilities?"

Xander nodded.

"But you studied me." Another nod. "Because you were interested? Why?"

"Because you were interesting?" Spike could hear the question in his voice.

Spike snarled.

Xander didn't quail. "Because you were going to be living with me. Because I thought there was more to you than what the legend proclaimed. Because I was starting to like you." He said softly.

"Do you know what you did?" Xander shook his head. "You offered yourself to me. I was fucking you and you let me TAKE YOUR BLOOD." Spike wiped his hand across his face.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'there is power in the blood'?" Spike asked.

Xander nodded. "It's religious, isn't it?"

"Probably. But in the vampire community, it's true. There are several ways to power. One is through blood." Spike knew he wasn't explaining himself well. "The more you kill. The more blood you take, the more power you have."

"Is that why you're angry?" Spike could see he wasn’t making his point.

Spike decided he had to do something to clear up the situation. He shifted to game face, grabbed Xander, and tossed him against the wall. "You belong to me. Angelus gave you to ME! And whether or not I chose to exercise that gift is my choice. No one else may have you." He pressed Xander against the wall not wanting to hear the pounding of Xander's heart or smell the fear on him. "You belong to me." He said again and shifted back.

Xander swallowed. "And this has what to do with charming?"

Spike took a deep breath he didn't need. "A vampire can charm a person to his will. Take a human's will down to the point where he is a willing puppet."

"You didn’t."

Spike shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Claiming?" Xander asked.

Spike brought his hand up and rubbed over the mark on Xander's neck. "Claiming makes you truly mine, but subject to my will, kind of like I'm subject to Angelus--Angel. With this--" Spike rubbed his thumb over the evident bite marks. "Every demon or vampire you come across will know you as a favorite of a master vampire."

"How?" Xander asked, unconsciously rubbing against Spike's hand.

"Scent. They'll be able to smell it until the wound heals." Spike was rubbing against Xander listening to his heart rate calm.

"Why favorite?"

"You're alive." If he wasn't claimed, and he lived he must be some sort of pet.

"And if I was claimed?" Xander asked and Spike wished he knew if it was mere curiosity or more.

"Everyone would know you belong to me. Or at least anyone who knew me. Everyone else would only know you carried a mark of power." Spike could feel something--odd. He wondered what had actually taken place last night.

"Spike--" Xander brought him out of his reverie. "I think we need to talk a while about charming and claiming and why your chip didn’t go off." With a start, Spike realized it hadn't, not even when he knew he'd been hurting Xander.

"We do, pet. And we need to talk about why you were so bloody stupid that you didn't tell me I was your first." It had bothered him and he wanted to know.

Xander shrugged, more relaxed now. "I don't really know. So--"

"So--" Spike replied.

"What do we do now?"

"How about go back to bed, get some more sleep, have a serious discussion later about what we're going to do, go to the slayers bloody party and save the world again?" Spike backed off to see what Xander wanted to do.

"Sounds like a plan." Xander put his hands in his back pocket. "Do we really need to sleep?" He asked as he followed Spike to the bedroom.

"I dunno. Do we?"

END

HARRY/SNAPE

Title: The Kiss of life
Author: CJ
RATING: R
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry has graduated in this story, therefore I would say this is a May/December encounter and not a child/adult (chan) situation. Whichever way that may squick you, you have been warned. If you don't like it, please feel free to skip to another story.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Email address: carolynandrei@yahoo.com

The Kiss of Life
By CJ

Parties were not a thing in which Severus Snape willingly participated. They came with memories of embarrassment and rejection, and worst of all of simply not being noticed.

They were not to be abided.

So on the eve of Hogwarts' greatest celebration, he took himself off to one of the many balconies as soon as Dumbledore's attention was diverted enough by one of the mop headed children allowed to stay up for the
special occasion.

The chill on the balcony suited him as well, taking out some of the ache in his left arm.

It shouldn't burn.

There was nothing there now.

Nothing.

"You still feel it, don't you? Or rather, you feel its absence."

Snape whirled about and scowled at Hogwart's most famous student.

"Mr. Potter, won't you be missed from the celebration? It is your great victory, after all."

"Is it?" The young man that looked at him through thick glasses was not so far from the boy he had taught in potions class. "So many dead, Professor Snape. So many missing at table. Is that victory?"

"Yes!" hissed Snape and clutched at his aching arm, "Did you think it would be easy, Potter? Did you think it would be painless? Triumph requires sacrifice, boy."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Potter was still the original mop headed child, for all that he had graduated this week. Snape remembered when the boy had thought the world was a forgiving place, but he knew better now, as Snape always had.

Harry stepped to the balcony railing with Snape. They stood for a moment in strange companionship, then Harry spoke again. "But there should be something left. It shouldn't take everything."

"Everything, Potter. Burned to ash and gone, boy." The ache became a stabbing pain, up his left arm and through his heart, but Snape would not show weakness now. Now that it was finally over.

"Let me see." Harry's hands were warm on his wrist, tugging gently.

"Get away." Snape tried to shrug the boy off, but realized that for all the black thatch of hair and heavy lenses being the same, this Harry was a
good two feet taller and a half a foot broader in the shoulders than the lad that Snape had taught in potions.

Snape gave up the struggle as undignified.

Harry gently pulled up the sleeve to expose the clean white skin of Snape's inner arm.

"It's gone, you see? Now leave off, you insufferable child."

But Harry didn't let go. His fingers unerringly traced the pattern of the Death Eaters Mark that had been burned into Snape's skin by Voldemort.

Snape shivered.

"Leave off, Potter."

"There *is* something left at the end of it all, Professor Snape. There's Life." Harry looked up and Snape was caught in his green eyes, that blinked owlishly over the rim of his glasses. "You just have to accept it."

And before Snape could even think of an answer, Harry bent his head and laid his lips at the center of where Voldemort had seared the Death Eaters Mark into his flesh, and again Snape burned.

He burned from the inside out as power speared through
him, filling him as he had not been filled since - and how had he forgotten this? - since his boyhood, when the first day of spring bloomed and he was allowed out to play in the fields again, after having spent a long winter trapped indoors.

Then there was a cool trail on his arm following the fire a trail that spread out as a balm on his soul, and he realized that Harry was tracing a new pattern on his arm. The boy's tongue painting a delicate weave of life and warmth and meaning, and - Lord - Snape was so hard now, as he hadn't been in years, had given up on ever being again, but the life in him, the joy, pressed into his soul by the kiss of a boy was more than he could stand. More than he could comprehend.

More than he deserved.

And as the pattern closed and a new mark of gold glowed to life on Snape's arm, he felt himself pushed through barriers he himself hadn't even known were there, and the pleasure was so great that he lost himself in it, clutching at Harry as his only anchor.

He came back to find himself kneeling on the stone tiles of the balcony, clutching Harry's shoulders. Harry was cradling his head whispering over and over again, "There is joy. You see? There truly is."

"You might have found a more comfortable spot for this, Harry," Snape said, almost managing his usual acid tone.

"Yes, I suppose so." Harry agreed, laughing, as he helped Snape to his feet. "Let's go find one, shall we?"

Snape gazed up at the stars and heard the music from the party below, andfound that he didn't feel empty anymore. Even stranger was to find himself looking at Harry Potter and feeling something altogether different from rage and guilt.

So Snape nodded and said, "I suppose we shall have to. Do try to be better prepared next time, Potter." Because it wouldn't do to change everything all at once, would it?

"Yes, Sir." Harry grinned. "I look forward to it."

The End

JIM/BLAIR

Title: Another Christmas Eve
Author: CJ
RATING: PG
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Fandom: The Sentinel
Disclaimer: The boys do not belong to me and I make no money from them. No infringement is intended.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Email address: carolynandrei@yahoo.com

ANOTHER CHRISTMAS EVE

Blair rubbed his gloved hands together and then stuck them under his arms for extra warmth as he stomped his feet on the snowy sidewalk. It had to be after midnight. If it got much colder he'd go to the mission on the corner and warm up for a while. He'd go now, except, well, he didn't want to run the risk of being recognized.

That was the problem with having been on TV: face time. People would, at the most inopportune times, remember who you were, and there was no way to anticipate it. It was chance: Chaos in the machine, the butterfly effect of his fifteen minutes of fame. Jim would laugh at that.

Or not.

He'd say something like, "Butterflies? What butterflies, Sandburg? I don’t remember any butterflies in the room when you were up there in front of the whole city, throwing away your life."

Or whatever. You couldn't be sure with Jim when he'd laugh or throw you out on the street. It was one of his charms.

Blair shook his head. He wasn't going to think about Jim.

Fuck he was cold.

And he itched.

How long had it been since his last shower? Four days? Five? Blair wasn't sure. He'd been sleeping in a different shelter every night, but coming back to this corner each day. Snow had fallen four days ago and now everything was muffled in fairy white. He'd showered before the snow, he remembered. So five days.

At least it was cold enough that he didn't stink too bad.

Blair scratched at his itching scalp under his stocking cap and stamped his feet some more. Okay, three more changes of the stoplight and then he'd go to the mission.

A man in a long woolen coat came down the street carrying a plastic grocery bag. Blair moved back against the wall of the office building to get out of his way.

The man stopped. "You look cold, are you all right?"

Blair looked up in surprise. He took in the wool cap, the knit muffler, and the shiny shoes of the gentleman in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Thanks. Waiting for a friend."

"Oh," the gentleman looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged and pulled something from his pocket.

Blair tensed. He could take this guy. Probably.

The man pulled out a ten-dollar bill and stuffed it in Blair's jacket pocket. "Get yourself some coffee and some food, why don't you." The man smiled at Blair's wide eyes and look of disbelief. "Merry Christmas."

And off he walked.

Blair stared after him for a moment, fingering the ten-dollar bill.

Merry Christmas.

Tomorrow was actually going to be Christmas Eve. Or was it today. He wished he had a watch.

Damn.

The stoplight changed. Two more and he'd go in for a warm-up at the mission. Of course they would probably be singing carols that he didn't know. Oh, well. One more way to stick out, right?

Blair and his mom, Naomi, had never celebrated Christmas, or Chanukah for that matter, but he'd always enjoyed watching the holiday preparations go on around him. Then for four years he'd actually participated. He and Jim had decorated the loft, taken cookies into the station. Exchanged gifts.

The best Christmases of his life.

Last year had been the amazing. Jim had gotten Naomi's recipe for tongue and made it for Christmas Eve dinner. Blair had come home to find Jim in that awful flowered apron slicing tongue on the cutting board.

Kodak moment! He grinned at the memory.

Then he remembered there was no chance of anything like that today.

Fuck.

He had promised himself he wouldn't think of Jim.

The stoplight changed again: one more to go.

Blair was startled by another voice coming from the alley to his left, "Hey, you cold, dude? Wanna warm up some?" He turned and saw two men standing a few feet away. They must have come up the alley, although he'd thought it was a dead end. Damn.

The one who'd spoken to Blair was holding up bottle of clear liquid.

"Watcha got?" Blair called back, but didn't go any closer.

"Everclear. Warm you up better than that damn cocoa they give out at the mission." The one with the bottle answered and waved it around. He was Caucasian, 25-30, 5'8", maybe 180 pounds, although it was hard to tell in the army-green winter parka he was wearing.

The other man hung back and stayed silent. Blair estimated he was closer to 200 pounds and three inches shorter than his companion.

"Thanks, but I'll pass on the drink." Blair shook his head. "I don't want to end up sleeping in the snow."

The two men exchanged a glance and Blair tensed up. Fight or flight? He was never really sure until it happened.

"You don't get to pass on this, buddy." The man with the bottle grinned and stepped forward as his silent companion pulled out a lighter and flicked it on, "Merry Christmas, scumbag!"

They expected Blair to run, so he stepped towards them instead, using his momentum to power a kick that connected the sole of hiking boots with the hand holding the lighter. The larger man yelled as his lighter went flying into the snow.

There was a lot of shouting and lights flashing, the man with the bottle swung it at him. Blair tried to block it but slipped in the snow and it caught him in the temple on the way down.

Blair landed hard and tried to roll, glimpsing one of his attackers above him with a knife.

Fuck!

Spending Christmas in the hospital was almost as bad as spending it on the street.

The blow from the knife never came. A foot away on the snow covered sidewalk there was a muffled thud and curse.

"You have the right to remain silent, you son of a bitch."

"Fuck you man!"

Blair smiled as he listened to Jim giving the perp a personalized Miranda reading.

"Should you waive that right, anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law, so please just keep talking, shit bag, because my partner and I would love to be able to put you away and still be home in time for Christmas Eve dinner."

"Let go of me! Fucking cop!"

Blair stopped listening and thought about getting up off the sidewalk. He really should. It was cold.

"Sandburg?"

There was a hand in front of his face, a Jim hand. He grabbed it and was levitated up from the sidewalk into the arms of his partner. He staggered, but Jim held him steady.

As usual. Blair smiled.

"You okay, Chief?" Gentle fingers ran over his temple, checking for damage.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jim. Slipped in the snow and that guy clipped me with the bottle." His head ached, but he really didn't want to go to the emergency room.

Jim completed his visual and hands on inspection of Blair's injury and then bent his head, sniffing.

Blair tried to push him off. "No, don't, man, I stink!"

Jim sighed in exasperation, but let him go. "You smell like you, Chief. You don't stink." Then he turned call over Blair's shoulder, "Rafe, can you guys handle getting these assholes down to the station, I'm going to take Sandburg home to change."

"Sure, Jim!"

"Jim, man, it's our bust!" Blair protested.

"Yeah, and it still will be when we get down there after you have a chance to shower, change and warm-up."

"No way, you can't ask them to treat me any dif-"

"Chief, please?"

Blair stopped in his tirade about not wanting special treatment, about not being a civilian anymore, about being just as much a cop as Jim. He stopped and really looked at his partner: at the fear in the blue eyes and the tension in the jaw.

Oh.

"Okay, Jim. Whatever you need." He said quietly.

Jim gave a short, sharp nod and then pulled Blair along to the truck and bundled him in. Blair though for a minute that he might actually try to buckle Blair's seat belt for him, but he managed to stop short of that.

Jim climbed into the driver's side, started the truck and turned the heat up to 'roast', which Blair was all in favor of really, and then they headed out.

Blair started counting as soon as they left the curb. One, two, three… they actually made it four blocks before Jim pulled over to the curb, unbuckled his belt and pulled Blair into a long and thorough kiss.

When they came up for air, Jim looked at his lover steadily and said, "I hate it when you work undercover, I hate it when you put yourself in danger, and I hate it when you get hurt."

Blair gazed back steadily and answered, "It's part of the job, I knew you had my back, and, you know-- I bounce." He grinned.

Jim snorted, but pulled Blair in for another kiss, pushing Blair's hat off to run his fingers through the short curls.

Blair gently pushed him off. "No. No. No. My hair is so gross right now, hell; I'm gross all over. Home and shower, James. I believe that was what I was promised back there."

"Okay, okay," Jim re-buckled his seat belt and pulled away from the curb, then he looked over and smiled "Hey, I got tongue for dinner tonight."

"Cool! That is so great!" Blair looked at his partner and grinned, "I've been dreaming about your tongue for, like, the last five days man."

Now Jim really laughed, "Does that mean I get to give you your Christmas present early?"

"Depends, " Blair leered, "How big is it?"

They didn't stop laughing until they got home.

As they walked into the loft, Blair thought to himself that this was going to be the best Christmas ever.

END

MISCELLANEOUS (DUNCAN/METHOS - HIGHLANDER)

Title:   A Miscon Christmas
Author: Diana Williams
Rating: PG
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: I don't own them, for which Methos is undoubtedly grateful
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent  
Feedback: Diana@slashcity.com
NOTES: This takes place in my "Misconceptions" universe, which can be found at http://diana.slashcity.com. You don't have to read that (rather long) series to enjoy the following, but you need to be aware that it is a Mpreg story. At this point, Methos is 33 weeks pregnant with twins, and Duncan and Methos are married.

A MISCON CHRISTMAS

The pillow under Duncan's head was kicking him.

Not that he minded. In fact, he could feel a smile forming on his face, what Richie would have called 'goofy', his cousin Connor would deride as besotted, and Amanda would label as 'cute'. Oddly enough, he didn't mind those labels at all. Which, he supposed, proved that Connor was right.

The pillow under him shifted slightly and he pressed his lips against the warm flesh. "Morning," he said softly.

He heard a snort from somewhere above his head. "If you're quite finished talking to my belly, Mac…"

Duncan grinned and opened his eyes to glance up at his lover's exasperated face, even as his fingers took his place against the rounded flesh. "Something you needed?" he asked.

"Other than having my head examined?" Methos asked dryly. "I *could* use a little help up. Nature is bellowing."

Duncan chuckled and, with one last kiss, sat up so he could assist his gravid spouse in sitting up. Methos was in fine form this morning, he thought with amusement. He worked his way into the bathrobe Duncan held up, groaned as he pushed himself up from the bed, and groused about the cold floor as he shuffled his way into the bathroom. Duncan couldn't help grinning as he propped himself up against the headboard and watched Methos go through his early morning routine of stretching and scratching before disappearing into the next room. Methos-watching was becoming one of his favorite activities.

Methos came back into the room and rolled his eyes as he caught the look on Duncan's face. "You need to get a hobby."

"I already have one," Duncan replied, lifting the covers invitingly. "Come back to bed and I'll warm up your feet."

Methos gave him a speculative look. "*Just* my feet?"

"Now, you know what Julian said. Best rest and no fooling around for the next two weeks."

"Spoilsport," Methos grumbled, but he shed his robe and crawled back into bed. Duncan grimaced as the icy cold feet branded his legs but set about rubbing some warmth into the chilled flesh.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mmm." Methos rolled over and propped himself on an elbow. "So, you planning on telling me why you were communing with my stomach at this ungodly hour of the morning."

"It's Christmas."

Methos raised an eyebrow. "That's a tradition I've never heard about."

Duncan chuckled and wrapped his arms around Methos, pulling him down to rest alongside Duncan's body. "Pain in the ass," he said affectionately, soothing his words by kissing Methos. "I was just thinking."

He was prepared for a sarcastic comeback, so when Methos said, quietly, "Good thoughts, I hope," he looked down at his lover in surprise.

"Mostly," he said. "I was thinking about how different things will be next year." He rubbed his hand over the prominent bulge of his lover's abdomen.

Methos nodded. "They'll be crawling, getting into everything, eating anything they find on the floor…come to think of it, it won't be that much different than having Richie around."

"Behave," Duncan growled, lightly smacking Methos' ass.

"And then all the Christmases to come: hunting down the 'must-have' toy of the year, spending a fortune just to have them ignore the toy and play with the box it came in. Those scary words 'batteries not included' and 'some assembly required'," Methos continued. "Sticky fingers touching everything, not to mention dealing with sugar buzzes. Taking them to see Santa and standing in line for hours, only to have the guy go on break when you reach the front of the line. Eating stale cookies and drinking warm milk so they'll think Santa came."

Duncan put his fingers over Methos' mouth, silencing him. "Scrooge," he teased. "I was thinking about the *good* parts. Their faces when they see the tree all lit up. The almost unbearable excitement, waiting for Christmas day. The happiness on their faces as they unwrap their presents." He sighed contentedly. "Christmas is really for children."

The corners of Methos' mouth curved upward in a smile. "Children and sentimental Scots," he corrected. "All right, I'll promise to try not to be a Scrooge about it, but *you're* assembling bicycles and doll houses." He snuggled closer to Duncan and closed his eyes, determined to get a little more sleep before the rest of the household woke.

Duncan smiled and pressed a kiss against Methos' hair. Considering what else he got with the deal, he thought he could live with that. Besides, how bad could it be?

End