ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 11

CLARK/LEX

Title: Kryptonite Green, Kryptonite Red
Author: Mereridkat (Margaret Newman)
RATING: R
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Disclaimer: I don't own them, though I wish I did. I'm not making any money at this, just enjoying the boys.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Author's note: Thanks to CJM for the beta!
Feedback Email address: mereridkat@aol.com

Kryptonite Green, Kryptonite Red

It was by sheer luck that Lex received permission from Mr. and Mrs. Kent to take Clark into Metropolis with him to go Christmas shopping. Clark had some money saved up, and wanted to get his parents and friends nice things this year - not just something from Walmart. If he'd had a credit card, he would have ordered stuff off the internet, but he didn't and he wasn't about to ask his dad -his dad didn't trust using a credit card over the internet.

Lex had considered offering the use of his credit card with the idea that Clark would just give him the money. But he knew how Mr. Kent would react, and so he simply saved Clark the effort of having to say 'no, thank you' but not offering at all.

What he didn't know was that Clark had been worried that he would offer. The one present he had found on-line was one that would have been absolutely perfect for Lex. It just didn't seem right to him to use Lex's card to buy Lex's present, even if he did give Lex the cash for it. Besides, he only had $191 for shopping, and the ostrich leather gloves with the black suede stitching were over $100. Of course, if he had more money, he wouldn't care about spending that much on something for Lex. Even on a pair of *gloves* for a guy that probably had an endless supply.

So Clark was relieved when Lex only asked permission to drive him to the mall in metropolis. When Mrs. Kent said yes, Lex nearly fell over.

"I'm sorry… You said yes?" Lex blinked, and Martha looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes, Lex. I said yes. Please, take him. Get him out of my hair for the day. He's been driving me crazy about Christmas shopping this year. I suppose I should just enjoy it, lord knows soon enough he'll be off to college and I won't have him underfoot anymore." She smiled, shaking her head. "Go, please. His homework is done, his chores are done."

Clark came back into the kitchen carrying the comic book he had wanted to show Lex. "You said yes?"

"Lex." Martha laughed. "Don't bring him home until late. If need be, I'll help Jonathan with the chores. As a matter of fact, don't bring him home until midnight. Jonathan and I can have dinner together. We haven't had a 'date night' in ages."

"Is that alright, Lex?" Clark looked at his friend. "You didn't have-"

"Clark, if I had other plans, I would have told you." Lex interrupted him.

"Clark, change out of that shirt. Wear that nice corduroy shirt your Aunt Nancy sent. And comb your hair. It's always falling down in your face." Martha continued with the apple peeling.

"Two minutes, Lex!" Clark was off in a rush.

"Is there anything you need in the city while we're there?" Lex asked, trying to think of something conversational-wise.

"A new kitchen." Martha flashed him a smile. "A new roof." She sighed. "Really, thank you for asking. The only thing I need is a happy son. You make sure Clark has fun, and that's all I ask." She frowned up at him. "Not that I'm asking you to…"

"Ah-ah." He held up a single finger. "I asked what you needed. If I'm to make Clark happy, then it's up to me how much money I spend. Besides, it's not like he'd let me spend that much."

"You're very good with him." She lowered her voice, eyes back on the apple in her hands. "You are good for him. But then, I think he's been good for you too."

"He's a good friend." Lex said after a moment's silence.

They were on the road five minutes later. Clark was practically bouncing in the seat. Lex gave him full command of the stereo system. Soon enough they were blasting the Kansas countryside with one of Lex's latest 'trance' cd's. Lex noticed how, with Clark by his side, the trip into Metropolis seemed to rush by. It was never this fast when he was going in to visit his father. Lex mused that he would prefer it in the reverse. Slow with Clark, drawing out this private time with him -they got so little of it, and quick with his father- the sooner over, the better.

Lex drove them to the Metropolis Crystal Mall. He drove right up to the east entrance where a valet parked the car for him.

"Do you know who you are shopping for and what you want for them?" Lex asked Clark as they walked into the biggest mall in Metropolis. Clark had been here during the summer with Chloe, Pete, and Lana. They had walked around all day and still hadn't seen everything.

Lex would not have come here by himself. He disliked malls, and preferred the exclusive shops on the rich, eastside avenue which could rival Rodeo Drive any day. Most of them required appointments ahead of time. No crowds and clerks who knew what customer service meant.

"Well, you know, my mom and dad, and then Chloe, Pete and Lana." Clark smiled, glancing down, flicking a look back up. "Of course, I won't be buying yours when you're around."

That look went straight to Lex's cock. *damn, that boy*

"Clark, you know you don't have to get me anything." Lex said, trying to alleviate Clark's cash flow problem. Clark's smile slipped a bit.

"I know I can't afford something that you'd really like…"

"That's not what I meant, damnit." Lex half growled, grabbing Clark's arm and giving him a shake. "I have money. I have *things*. You know what I don't have a lot of?"

Clark frowned. Trick question?

"Friends. You are my only true friend, Clark. That is one present that you continually give me that money cannot buy. Trust me. I know whereof I speak."

"Oh." Clark blinked, and then he looked around. Sure the parking lot had been packed. Sure this was the first Saturday after Thanksgiving, but… wow. He stopped, glancing around. It hadn't been crowded like this during the summer. It was loud, children crying, people talking, and all the warring perfumes and colognes.

"Clark?" Lex looked back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Clark shrugged, taking a couple steps to catch up. "Sorry. It's kind of, uhm, packed."

"Does that bother you?" He hadn't thought Clark would be claustrophobic.

"No, not at all." Clark shook his head. He'd be fine, he just needed time to adjust to the crush of people. If Lex found out, he would never offer to take him anywhere again, Clark just knew it.

"What do you want to get Pete?" Lex started walking again, making sure Clark was at his side.

"I was thinking like a cd -Ramstein or something like that." He pulled out the piece of paper he had had in his backpack. He'd been making notes in class one day, bored. Lex reached for it, but Clark stuck it back in his pocket. "Tut, tut, Mr. Luthor."

"What did you say?" Lex grinned -really grinned.

"Don't be grabby, it's not polite." Clark smiled, refusing to look at him.

"Alright, Mr. Kent. To the music store over there." Lex pointed, and off they went.

Clark got Pete the Rammstein cd, 'Feuer Frei'. It was an import and Clark was pretty sure Pete didn't have it. On impulse, he got his dad a two-disc compilation of Credence Clearwater Revival.

"He had an actually record of theirs that he really liked. Mom kept making tapes of it for him, but the turn table died, and we can't get it repaired. He'll like this." Clark nodded happily.

"So, the young ladies?" Lex asked as they exited the music store. Clark's lips were a little thinned, and he seemed to be having trouble with the crush of the crowd.

"Uhm, right. I was thinking some nice perfume for Lana. Do you know what would be good? I haven't the slightest idea. Mostly I don't really care for perfumes. You know, they make my nose itch." Clark looked at him expectantly.

*Does the cologne I wear bother him?* Lex wondered briefly. "Let's go into one of the department stores and we'll ask a clerk."

That proved to be a challenge. Lex was good at winding his way through crowds and was quick enough that he didn't get touched that much. Clark, despite being fast on his feet, was at a loss in this crowd. Lex finally just reached back and grabbed his hand. That got them a few looks, but Clark didn't notice and Lex didn't care.

Finding a clerk to help them in the department store was another challenge. There seemed to be a shortage. The one they finally ended up with had an attitude.

"You don't know what kind you want?" She stared at Clark.

"No," Lex replied for him. "That's why you're here. To suggest something." He stared at her, hard, with one of the patented Luthor looks.

"Yes." She grumbled. "Sir."

Out of the three suggestions, Lex chose the third one. Clark just shook his head and handed over the $27.

"They all smelled the same to me." He explained as they left.

"There was a subtle variation." Lex shrugged. By Monday, that clerk would no longer have a job. "Next."

"Well, I was kind of thinking Borders for Chloe. Either like a gift card or she's been talking about this biography on this famous woman writer. I'm just not sure how much the book will cost. I tried looking it up on Amazon, but I don't think I have the woman's name right."

"Ava Byers-Much." Lex kept his smile to himself. It was a guess, but he was pretty certain he was right. Especially when Clark stopped walking and Lex turned back to look at him. The expression on the younger man's face was classic stunned surprise. He enjoyed doing to that to Clark. It had become a sort of hobby of his. "Am I right?"

"You know you're right." Clark shook his head, and started walking again. "Okay, so you can help me find it."

"My pleasure." Lex allowed himself a small smile.

Borders was like the rest of the mall -packed. Lex kept an eye on Clark, watching his face and body language. He had a feeling the crowd was getting to his younger friend, but Clark was determined to stick it out. Lex did not suffer from claustrophobia. He had been born and raised in the city. He had thrived, and nearly killed himself, on the kind of entertainment one could only find in the city. He preferred Smallville now, though mostly that reason had black hair, green eyes and a smile to die for.

The clerk here was far more helpful, and in no time they were standing in line waiting to buy Chloe's book.

"I'll pay half." Lex said as he had noticed the $35 price tag.

"No, I can manage it." Clark frowned, shaking his head.

"I am not suggesting you can't afford it. I am suggesting we split the cost. That way, I don't have to think up something on my own." Lex arched a smooth eyebrow at Clark.

"Wuss." Clark grinned, gaze dropping.

"Excuse me?" Lex blinked. "What did you call me?"

"Wuss." A woman said from behind Clark. She was tall and overweight, her black hair streaked with grey, although she didn't look particularly old. "He said 'wuss', didn't he, Porter?"

"Yeah." The woman standing beside and a little behind her nodded, grinning but not looking up from the book she was perusing. "Sounded like wuss to me too." This one had light red hair, and a good sixty extra pounds of weight.

"Thank you." Lex nodded as if strangers joining in on his conversations was nothing out of the ordinary. "Clark?"

"You could always just get her a blank book. She's always keeping a journal." Clark suggested, cheeks just a little pink. "Like a leather one."

"Oh, they have some nice ones here." The red hair looked up. "Over there." She pointed towards one wall. "They have suede ones. A little pricey, but they smell really good."

"And of course you sniffed them." Her friend looked back at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Hey, I have a thing for leather." She smiled, and shrugged.

"Yes, yes, we know." Her friend nodded, sighing heavily.

Clark looked at the two women. *okay, weird now.*

"I'll be right back." Lex stepped out of line, disappeared in the direction indicated, and returned less than a minute later with a purple suede bound journal. He eyed Clark. "Satisfied?"

Clark chuckled. "You're too easy."

"I'm easy?" Lex at Clark surprise.

"You know that can be a good thing." The red haired woman laughed softly.

"Yeah, Porter, you'd know."

"Hey, he never complained."

"Can I help the next person in line, please?" Called out a clerk from the counter. Lex moved.

Once they were out in the mall again, their bag collection slowly growing, Clark asked, "That didn't upset you, did it?"

Lex looked at him. "What?"

"In Borders, the journal for Chloe and those two -kind of strange- women." Clark looked uncertain.

"Clark, you should know me well enough by now that I am not that easily upset. Those women were amusing, nothing more." He stepped a little closer to his friend and said in a lower voice, "I am anything *but* easy. Trust me."

With that, he walked on, not looking back. Clark was momentarily stunned, and had to jog a little to catch up.

"Now, I assume your mother is the last one left." Lex paused in a slight oasis caused by a huge column that went from the ground floor up to the third floor ceiling and a huge fern. Clark quickly stepped in beside him. "Besides me, of course."

"Yeah." Clark nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"Do I get to give you suggestions?" Lex asked him, leaning against the column and watching Clark. His most favorite hobby of all the Clark-related hobbies.

"For my mom?" Clark gave him an innocent look before he grinned. "I don't know. That doesn't seem fair. I want to find you something you would never expect me to give you."

*Oh, Lex, don't go there!* He told himself.

"Well, then." He straightened, jerking his jacket down to cover… certain… things. "What do you have in mind for your mother?"

"Something really nice. Something she wouldn't buy for herself." Clark frowned as he contemplated his mother. "I was kind of thinking like a really nice sweater. Something really soft, that she'd like wearing. Not like something that is going to last a hundred years. And, I have less than $100 left. So it should only be like $50 or so."

Lex looked around, mentally going over their choices and trying not to think of Clark worrying about buying him something. He didn't want Clark skimping on a present for his mother by saving money back for his present. But it wasn't his choice to make.

"How about Dillards? I assume they would have some nice sweaters for you to choose from." Lex led the way, and soon they were in the midst of sweater mania in Dillards. Clark chose a dark emerald green that sort of felt like chenille but wasn't. It had shots of red and gold flecks throughout it. With tax, it was $68 but Clark paid and soon they were heading back out.

Lex walked just a little behind Clark this time, a hand on the younger man's lower back, guiding him. Lex's hand tingled at the heat of contact, and was thankful he hadn't hit skin. That would probably be his undoing.

At the same time, Clark felt a bit hazy. All he could feel was that hand on his back, and he couldn't think of anything else. Lex had to say, "Shall we leave?" Three times before Clark understood him.

The valet had the car pulled up to the curb within minutes. The inside of the car was a wonderful haven. Clark leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed.

"Are you feeling sick?" Lex finally asked, expertly maneuvering through the traffic.

"Ah, geez." Clark groaned. "I'm sorry. You'll never want to take me shopping again."

"Let's get one thing straight first." Lex told him, his voice going a bit husky. "I prefer my Clark-time alone and un-interrupted. I do not like sharing my Clark with crowds. You're my friend, not theirs. It's not like I get you all to myself that often."

There was a long stretch of silence.

"Perhaps I did not word that right." Lex offered, glancing at Clark.

"I got it." Clark smiled, biting his bottom lip. He turned his head to look at Lex. "Okay, I was having a bit of claustrophobia. I think I get used to all the space at home. Sometimes I feel it at school, you know, during classes? The halls are all crowded and people are bumping into you. I get home and just stand in a field for a little bit, close my eyes and breathe."

"I prefer my space, too." Lex nodded, changing lanes, making a silent decision. He changed their direction to the penthouse. He had thought to take Clark to a movie or maybe they could walk down the east side avenue and window shop. But no, not now. He wanted time with just Clark, enjoying his company.

"I imagine, you know, boarding school and then college, you probably enjoy having the castle to yourself." Clark wasn't forgetting what Lex had said. He often thought of Lex in terms of 'my Lex' but that was silent and never shared with anyone, never written down. It was his secret.

"For the most part." Lex nodded. It was lonely until Clark came around. He was always lonely until Clark showed up. His father would find him more pathetic than ever.

"For the most part." Clark repeated the words. "Will you come to Christmas dinner? My mom was already asking me what you would be doing. I know you don't like to spend it with your dad. The hiding and everything. I thought maybe, and maybe I'm being a big dork-"

"No." Lex cut him off. Clark's heart fell.

"That's okay, I just thought-"

"Clark." Lex let out an exasperated sound. "No, you are not being a big dork. Yes, I would like to come to Christmas dinner. The only catch in that being your father."

"Oh, Mom will take care of him." Clark said in a rush, shifting in the seat to look at Lex. "You'll really come?"

"Yes." Lex nodded, watching traffic, watching the gleam in Clark's green eyes.

"Where are we going now?" Clark realized that the traffic had changed.

"To my penthouse. I thought perhaps we could use a break. We can have lunch, watch a movie or whatever. When are you going to wrap your presents? Will you handle that at home? I don't think I have any wrapping paper."

"Cool." Clark blinked. "Uhm, yeah. Home. Wrapping."

"Yes, you definitely need some lunch." Lex laughed.

They ate lunch on the floor in front of Lex's huge flat screen television. There wasn't a movie playing, but there was a hint of Christmas music playing from the stereo. Clark was devouring his sub, guzzling a one liter Pepsi. Lex ate, but he was having much more fun watching Clark.

Some Dijon mustard and a single shred of Romaine lettuce dangled off of Clark's chin. Acting on a whim, Lex reached over and swiped that delicious chin clean with two fingers. That long tongue gliding up one side before sucking the fingers into his mouth. Those lips dragging along the skin… Clark gasped on the sensuality of it, his cock instantly hard, and inhaled the rest of the bite in his mouth. He coughed as his face turned beet red.

Lex was immediately worried that he had gone too far. He wanted to seduce Clark, not shock the hell out of him. He leaned up on his knees and pounded Clark's back. "Raise your arms up!"

Clark took a swig of soda, worked on his breathing and just wrapped his arms around Lex instead.

"I'm sor-"

"Shut up, Lex." Clark growled at him before taking an experimental nibble of Lex's Adam's Apple.

Lex's cock twitched and his body vibrated, "Oh, oh-"

"I've never kissed a guy before. I'm wondering if you taste as good as you look." Clark chuckled, turning and shifting and sprawling out on top of Lex.

"I don't think kissing a man is that much different from kissing a woman." Lex contemplating the young man above him. His fingers had sunk into the silky black hair. God, he had jacked off just thinking about this hair. "Understandably, there are some physical dif-" That's as far as he got before a warm farm boy tongue distracted him.

"You know," Clark said as he unbuttoned Lex's shirt - a dazed Lex was a sight to behold, "I think we really should go Christmas shopping again next weekend. You still need presents for Lana, and something for your dad too. You should give a gift to your secretary, too. This is something I can really help you with, what are best friends for anyway? Besides, it's good to help me work off my claustrophobia. Don't you agree, Lex?"

"Uhmmnngg." Lex mumbled, hands lying useless above his head. He really did intend to do something more with his hands. Like grasp Clark's head or clutch helplessly at those broad shoulders or… or… But Clark had just discovered the joys of Lex's very sensitive nipples. The farm boy laughed evilly, and settled down to a wonderful afternoon of Lex-discovery. Lex wasn't sure he was going to survive, but what a way to go!

A very mellow Lex dropped Clark off at the farm at four minutes after midnight. Clark slipped in as quietly as possible, and flopped down on his bed fully clothed, grinning like an idiot. He was really looking forward to Christmas shopping again next weekend. If he was lucky, he could get in a lot of quality 'shopping time' every weekend before Christmas. It was tough work, but he was a dedicated shopper.

END

JIM/BLAIR

Title: The Goose is Getting Fat
Author: Mereridkat (Margaret Newman)
RATING: NC17
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Fandom: The Sentinel
Disclaimer: I don't own them, not making any money, I always put them back clean.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Second note: Thanks to CJM for the beta!
Feedback Email address: mereridkat@aol.com

The Goose is Getting Fat

December was one of Blair's favorite months of the year. Some people wouldn't think so considering how he suffered with the weather, but he loved December. The Christmas lights and decorations turned Cascade into a magical kingdom. People were friendlier, music echoed through the air, and lovely smells of baked goods wafted all around. It allowed Blair a chance to connect with his Inner Elf.

*Hey, just cause a guy is Jewish doesn't mean he can't have an Inner Elf!*

There was one deterrent to enjoying December and it was one James Joseph Ellison. While to all outward appearances, Jim liked Christmas. He would participate in gift giving at work. Doling out cash for the different collections. Playing a 'Santa Helper' at the abused children's shelter. The old "white elephant" gift giving game at the big Christmas party. Buying presents for Blair, Naomi, and his own family. He was a good sport about it all, and the only one wise to the ways of Ellison was his partner. Blair.

Once they left Major Crimes and got in the trusty truck, Jim started his bitching. After a couple of Christmases with Jim, Blair knew what to expect. Every year it was the same old thing. Smile, smile smile. Pretend, pretend, pretend. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

Ellisons, Blair had learned, were really good at pretending. They pretended they were a family. They pretended they were happy. They pretended so much that Blair felt after a while that they wouldn't know reality unless it bit 'em in the ass!

Blair Sandburg was a patient man. He bided his time. He listened. He learns. He waited.

Then he went into action. This Christmas was it. The D-Day of Christmas celebrating as far as he was concerned. He was: Elf with Attitude.

Jim "The Grinch" Ellison, beware.

It all began innocently enough. December first, and Blair was out for the evening helping a friend still working on his dissertation at the university. Jim got home, a little grumpy without the company of his partner. He changed into sweats, turned on a college basketball game and growled at the refrigerator.

The door bell rang. Jim sniffed the air. Hamburger. Onions. French fries. Wonder Burger?

He answered the door to find some pimple faced high school kid standing there with a Wonder Burger bag in his hands.

"Mr. Ellison? Special delivery." The kid thrust the bag at him, and ran for the stairs.

Jim contemplated the kid, contemplated the bag of food, and shut the door. He didn't smell anything wrong with it. Looked okay as he peeled apart the hamburger. His stomach rumbled.

Yeah, okay. Eat.

And he ate.

Had to be Blair right? But when Blair came home and he quizzed him about it, Blair professed to know nothing.

Day two dawned with the truck's gas gage inching towards empty. When Jim got in the truck at noon, the gage was resting on F. He quizzed Blair, he quizzed the guard on duty in the garage. Nobody knew anything. He sniffed the truck and smelled nothing out of the ordinary.

He scowled at Blair, but drove on.

Day three was Jim winning -without having entered- three (yes, three) tickets to a special Jags exhibition game. And gosh, Blair and Simon were willing to go with him.

He stared suspiciously at them, but said nothing.

Day four dawned bright and early -and cold. A minor blizzard had blown through during the night. The parking lot was a sea of white. Except for the truck, which was snow free. Windows scraped.

He looked at Blair, shivering at his side, and he looked at the truck.

*This shit is getting weird*

Day five, Rafe agreed to cover the late afternoon for Jim and Blair so they could get home and change clothes before the exhibition game. When they got to the Jags stadium, Jim was treated to free valet parking. Boxed seats. Open bar, and free food tab. Anything he wanted, he could have.

When he asked about who had entered his name in the drawing, the general manager of the Jags had no idea what he was talking about.

Simon and Blair smiled brightly and shrugged.

Morning of day six, Jim stretched out on top of Blair.

"I'm thinking of putting a bell on you." He ground his hips into Blair.

"What'd… I… do?" Blair managed to gasp out, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Oh, nuthin'." Ellison growled into Blair's right ear. Blair arched and crying out Jim's name, coming.

At noon, his dad called. The elder Ellison invited Jim and Blair to a Christmas decorating party on Sunday. Steven and his fiancé would be there as well. Dinner would be provided, cooked by Sally of course.

"If Naomi is in town, invite her along." Bill Ellison told his son.

Jim glowered at Blair. "I will."

"What? What?" Blair did his innocent look, but Jim wasn't fooled. He knew now that something was going on. That night he did a thorough inspection of Blair's ears for points. Blair found it a totally orgasmic experience. Not that Jim allowed him to come. He said Blair wasn't allowed to, not until he confessed.

The Inner Elf was a little wobbly, but he didn't bend to the pressure. Elf with Attitude asserted himself and said (with just a hint of a tremble), "Confess what?"

The morning of day seven was spent at Home Depot with a very cranky Blair and an almost perky Jim. He *whistled* as he wandered through the lumber section.

However, the tables were turned when, upon rolling his cart up to the check out, Jim pulled out his credit card to pay and was told his purchase was already covered. The young black woman did not falter under the Death Ray Vision of Ellison. She continued to smile up at him through the whole thing. She refused to say who had paid his bill. Did he need help out to his vehicle?

Blair managed to bite back any semblance of a snicker. He even walked better on the way back out to the truck, the ol' bounce back in his Elfish step.

The rest of the day was busy with Jim building a bookcase and grumbling the entire time about people interfering in his business. He kept flashing Blair evil looks. Blair smiled happily, singing Christmas carols to his heart's content. (Jim had turned down hearing hours ago.)

"Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please to put a penny in the old man's hat…" He never saw the shadow of the approaching attacker, he never sensed his impending doom. But boy, did he scream! "Yaaaahhhhh!!"

The ice cube was stuffed down the back of his jeans. The attacker had a grip on his jeans, and gave him a couple good shakes. Not only did the ice cube lodge down low, but he also got a bit of a wedgy.

"Ellison!" Blair hollered. "You're gonna pay!"

"Christmas is coming! The goose is getting fat! Please to put a penny in the old man's hat!" Jim sang flat and off key as he ran like hell out of the loft. (Just cause he was a Sentinel didn't mean he could carry a tune.)

That night Blair came to bed bundled up. Thermal underwear, two pairs of sweats, three pairs of socks, and the plush velour robe he had given Jim for his birthday. Jim took one look at him, and shook his head. He reached under the bed and pulled something out, then settled it firmly down over Blair's curly locks. Blair peered up at him under the furry white trim.

"Don't want those ears of yours to get cold." Jim told him, promptly rolling over, pulling the covers up, and going to sleep. Blair stared at him for a moment before snuggling up against his lover's back, and drifting off to sleep himself.

In the morning, they woke up nose to nose and lips to lips. Both jerked back about the same time.

"Tell me how you arranged the deal at Home Depot." Jim urged Blair, stroking his knuckles across a stubbly cheek.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Blair sniffled, and pulled away further. He tried to get out of bed in a dignified manner but it's hard when your dressed like a sausage. His arms flailed, and he fell with a thwump! face first onto the floor.

"Blair?" Jim peeked over the edge.

"I'm fine." Blair grumbled. "Hey, look. My CD of Aboriginal Drummers."

They weren't expected at the Ellison house until early afternoon. Jim finished up the bookcase, setting it in place where he and Blair had agreed. Blair brought some boxes from storage that contained holiday decorations. The menorah up on the mantle piece was joined by the Holy Rock his mother had brought back for him from Nirhu Ara and the roughly carved camel and wise-man that he had bought from a Appalachian artist this last summer when they were on vacation.

Jim saw the carving and made comments under his breath the same as he had on their vacation. "Paying money… a child could do…"

Blair ignored him, not willing to open that argument again. Jim was just being stubborn, and in return, he would stubbornly ignore him.

At noon, they ate a light meal. Jim showered - Blair had showered earlier - and they got dressed to go. They didn't need to bring anything but Blair insisted that they at least bring a token, so they stopped and Jim picked out a bottle of wine he thought his father would enjoy.

As they pulled down his father's street, Jim noticed there were several cars in the drive way. He looked suspiciously at Blair, and kept driving.

"Stop! Stop!" Blair shouted at him, reaching over and punching him in the shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you!"

"You know I don't like crowds or 'family gatherings'." Jim growled, pulling around and heading back.

"How many people are in there? Count the heartbeats." Blair lectured him. "Does it bother you so much to bend a little bit? Indulge your father a little?"

"Blair." Jim heaved a sigh. "Shut the fuck up."

He parked the truck, grabbed the wine and headed in. Blair followed, pulling the Santa hat that Jim had put on him last night out of his coat, and putting it on.

The extra guests were William Ellison's younger brother, his wife, their daughter and her husband. Simon was there, too, with Naomi leaning on his arm. She beamed when she saw Blair.

"Oh, baby, you make such a cute elf!" She rushed forward, hugging him. "Don't you think so, Jim? Do you know he used to have a pair of rubber Vulcan ears and he would wear them at Christmas?"

"Thanks, Mom. Way to make a guy feel twelve all over again." Blair rolled his eyes, sighing good-naturedly.

They had a terrific evening. Gregory Ellison had worked as a cop in Tacoma for twenty-five years. After retiring, he had gone back to college and gotten a degree in computer programming. He had his own company now, just something small, doing software for people with disabilities. His wife Emma had been an English teacher for thirty years at a private school in Tacoma, and had retired only this last year. Their daughter Selina was a lawyer working for an adoption firm in Oregon. Her husband Todd had just gotten out of the Army, and would be starting college in the Spring.

At the end of the evening, Simon took Naomi off to the hotel where she was staying. Bill walked Jim and Blair out, handing Jim thick manila envelope.

"Wait until you get home before you look at that." Bill pointed at it. "It's about your mother. I had a copy made of everything for Steven. You both deserve to know what happened to her. I know you've always blamed me for her leaving. God knows, I've blamed myself…"

"Dad." Jim started, but Bill waved him silent.

"Take it. Read it. There's a letter in there for you, from her." The older man sighed, glancing up at the sky. "I still dream about her, after all these years. Always thought I'd remarry. Sally seems content the way things are." He shrugged, glancing back at the two men watching him. "I'm glad you have Blair, Jimmy. I was afraid you'd never find anyone. Carolyn didn't count -and no, I'm not going to argue about it. I knew it wouldn't last and that's all I'll say on the subject. Now, get going. It's cold out here and hard on my joints. Drive safely."

"Yes, sir." Blair smiled, turning and heading for the truck on his own.

"Dad…" Jim hesitated. Bill stopped and looked back at his son. "Thanks. For everything."

"Glad you came. When Naomi saw the truck drive on by, I wasn't sure you were going to come in." He chuckled, going up the steps.

"Yeah, well." Jim shrugged, glancing towards Blair's form.

"Go on. See you in a few days."

"Good night, Dad."

"Good night, son."

The ride back to the loft was quiet. No radio, very little traffic. Blair stared contentedly out of the window. When they got home, Blair went on up to bed, giving Jim a quick kiss on the lips first.

"I love you." He told the bigger man.

"I know." Jim nodded. "I love you, too."

Jim started a fire, sat on the couch and sipped his beer. He stared at the manila envelope and contemplated his father. The old man was getting tricky. He wondered if Blair had prompted Bill to do this or if the old man had thought of it on his own. He heard Blair's breathing even out and slow as he fell asleep. Okay, long enough. *Get it over, Ellison.*

He picked up the envelope and emptied the contents out on the coffee table. The first thing that caught his eye was the death certificate. He picked it up and read it. She had died two years ago from complications due to cancer. He set it aside. The next thing he picked up was a photo of her. It was dated nearly twenty years ago. She was lovely, standing next to a saguaro. He set that aside separately. *Blair will want to frame that*

It took him a while to read through her letter. She had written it ten years ago, never expecting it to reach him. She had never expected to see him again. He would let Blair read it in the morning. It would give Blair insight into the genetic heritage of Sentinels, and at the same time it made Jim worry. Would he be as susceptible to insanity and illness as his mother?

It was with heaviness of heart that he headed up stairs for bed. He was glad his father had given him the pack, but it made him sad too. His mother had spent the last years of her life alone, as far as he could tell, fighting cancer. If he had only known, if she had only contacted him…

Although he wouldn't have been open to any sort of contact until these last couple years. The reason for that openness was curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. All Jim saw was a largish lump under the covers. It drew his lips into a wry smile. That lump was all his, every curl and every muscle. Every ounce of Elf with Attitude.

He wasn't sure how Blair was doing these things, but he knew the younger man was behind it all. Jim figured he had two choices, really. He could just sit back and enjoy or he could let himself get bent out of shape about it. He didn't like people sneaking around behind him, but the results were interesting.

Perhaps there was another course of action… Perhaps he could have a bit of fun too. He could grouse and gripe and yank Blair's chain, and all the while enjoy it. Oh, he could keep Blair dancing right up to Christmas day. Oh, yes! He could enjoy himself -and Blair- immensely.

He stripped, and peeled the covers back to slip in beside his lover. Blair wasn't wearing as much tonight as he had last night. At Jim's first touch, easing him onto his back, Blair moaned, and wriggled up against Jim. He always maintained that Jim was better than any electric blanket. *'Electric blankets don't fuck you into oblivion.'*

It's really hard to seduce someone when they have their faced pressed into your chest and their arms and legs wound tightly around your body.

But if their groin is pretty well centered against yours, then there is one thing you can do. Start a little frottage. Though in Jim and Blair's case, the frottage was never 'little'. Jim had Blair arching and gasping against him in no time.

"Do I have your attention now, Elf-mine?" Jim asked, pulling back a little. He started tugging at Blair's thermal undershirt.

"You can have my attention any damn time you want it, Jimmy." Blair sighed, trembling and sweaty.

"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well, I know abstinence makes me harder. I think I'm gonna nail you to the bed and then some." Jim growled when a furry chest was finally revealed and he latched onto a nipple.

Blair screeched, not having been prepared for that burst of sensation.

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…" Jim sang against the furry chest. "One rosy nipple…"

"This is- this is- gonna be the gay erotic version of that song, right?" Blair dug his fingers into his favorite set of shoulders. Jim's.

"MmmMmm." Was Jim's reply. He was busy. "On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to meeeee…." His mouth attacked Blair's. Tongue war raged. "A thorough mouth fucking…"

"Jim, babe, I love you and all that, but you just can't sing." Blair chuckled, and then lost all breath as his thermal pants were stripped off him and he was expertly flipped onto his stomach.

"On the… whatever the hell day is next… I gave my true love…" Jim had given up singing now and was chuckling at Blair's shivering and groaning. "My little Elf seems to be having a spasm. Hmm."

"Shut up, you big galoot, and get busy! Merry fucking Christmas already!"

"My, my. Elf language these days." Jim shook his head, gave his Elf a slap on the rear, and reached over for the lube. "I think I may enjoy Christmas this year after all."

"Eeeeeyaaaah!" Blair yelped. "Warm it up first! Warm it up!"

"Oops, sorry. Just a bit distracted, Elf-mine." Jim grinned, pulling fingers back and rubbing his hands together.

Everyone noticed that Blair was a bit wobbly the next day, and that Jim kept smiling like a big cat. When Megan asked Blair some questions on a case, she found he was a bit hoarse.

"You okay, Sandy?" She asked, frowning worriedly.

"Just fine." Blair blushed, ducking his head.

"He likes to sing Christmas carols." Jim explained from his desk, his back to them. "At the top of his lungs. Right, Elf-Blair?"

"Er, uhm, yeah."

On Christmas Eve, Jim presented Blair with a matched set of silver wedding bands. They weren't going to have any big ceremony -or even a little one. It was just for them. When they wore them to work the next day, no one asked. No one needed to. The Elf and the Grinch (who wasn't so grinchy anymore) lived happily (and sometimes sappily) ever after.

END

HARRY/SNAPE

Title: Come For Christmas
Author: GMTH
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: HP/SS
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastic and whoever else lays claim to it. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this attempt at creativity.
Notes: Written as part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent.
Summary: Harry invites Ron and Hermione (and Snape) to come for Christmas.
Feedback: Yes, please. Lots. Kudos and con crit equally welcome. gmarasco@hotmail.com

COME FOR CHRISTMAS

Dear Ron and Hermione:
 
Thanks so much for the Christmas gift! Yes, I opened it early, but you know how I am about Christmas presents. Anyway, the candlesticks are just beautiful. They’ll look great in Severus’s study, and I’m sure he’ll love them as much as I do. He’ll be home from for the Christmas hols in a couple of days, after he finishes up a few things at Hogwarts. I can’t wait see him again. I’ve really missed him…
 
Don’t tell him, but I opened up one of his Christmas presents to me early, too – a Dict-O-Quill. In fact, I’m using it right now to write this letter to you. It’s bloody wonderful. All I have to do is speak and it writes down everything I say. It should come in very handy at work. I’ve already learned I have to be careful with it, though. Yesterday, I accidentally left it running after I wrote to Sirius and it recorded every sound I uttered all day long. It was pretty funny to read over it this morning. I never realized how much I talk to myself until I saw it all written out it on paper.
 
I was wondering if you two had any plans for Christmas? If not, Severus and I would love it if you could stay with us for a few days. Our new flat is really taking shape. It’s small, but it’s comfortable and I think Severus will enjoy being able to get away from Hogwarts on the weekends. All we need now is the Weasley seal of approval and the place will really feel like home. Let me know, okay?
 
Hope to see you then…
 
"Love, Harry."
 
Harry sighed as the quill obediently scratched the final words down on the parchment in front of him. He was so tired. He’d been working like a dog for the past few days, trying to get the flat organized in time for Severus’s homecoming. He removed his glasses and placed them on the desk, rubbing his eyes wearily. One more letter to write, and then he planned to get to bed early for a change.
 
Suddenly, the front doorknob begin to rattle. Leaving his glasses on the desk, Harry jumped to his feet as the front door swung open and a tall figure draped in black robes swept into the room.
 
"Severus!" Harry cried happily, exhaustion forgotten as he crossed the room in three quick strides and launched himself into his lover’s arms. "You’re home early!"
 
"Indeed," Snape confirmed, pulling the younger wizard against his chest in a tight embrace. "Albus took pity on me and allowed me to leave the castle a few days ahead of schedule."


"Oh, I’m glad," Harry said softly, tilting his head back to gaze into his lover’s dark eyes. "I missed you."
 
Severus allowed himself a small smile as he lowered his face and kissed Harry’s forehead. He outlined the younger man’s scar with his lips, trailing a line of kisses down the slope of his nose before claiming his mouth. The kiss deepened quickly. It had taken the two men a long time to acknowledge their feelings for one another – too long – and now that they were finally together, their appetite for each other was insatiable. At the taste of his lover’s lips, Harry’s blood began rushing southward, quickly filling his cock. A stab of desire arced through him when he felt the answering throb of Severus’s growing erection against his hip.
 
He groaned when Snape pulled back from the kiss. "Were you in the middle of something?" Severus demanded breathlessly. "Because I can’t wait too long before I have you."
 
Harry shivered at the lusty tone of the older man’s voice. "No, I was just finishing up," he replied. "I was writing to Ron and Hermione. I’ve invited them to come for Christmas. I hope you don’t mind," he added as Snape’s brow furrowed.
 
"Well, seeing as how you’ve already done it, I suppose I’ll have to live with it," Snape said dryly. "You do realize, of course, that with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley staying in the flat I won’t be able to make *you* ‘come for Christmas.’"
 
Harry laughed. "And why not?"
 
"Because, you insufferable boy, you have a tendency to get rather… shall we say… loud… during our intimate moments."
 
Harry laughed again. "Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black! I’ve known you to get rather vocal, yourself."
 
"Ah, yes, but at least I am able to restrain myself when the situation calls for it," Snape replied. "You, on the other hand, seem to be incapable of it. I’m sure your friends would be quite shocked to hear the things that come out of your mouth when you are being thoroughly fucked."

Harry narrowed his eyes and studied his lover with a sly grin playing on his lips. "Is that a challenge, Professor?" he asked coyly, reaching into Snape’s robes to pat the bulge between his legs. "I reckon," he began, squeezing the older wizard’s stiff prick, "that I can make you – " another squeeze "– squeal like a stuck pig – " a third squeeze "– any time I choose."
 
Snape stifled a moan as Harry concluded this declaration with a fierce kiss. It simply wouldn’t do to forfeit the contest before it even began. "You can try," he replied once Harry stopped trying to choke him with his tongue, "but you won’t succeed."
 
"We’ll see about that," Harry said, stepping out of his lover’s arms. "Get undressed."
 
The clothes flew, and before Snape knew what was happening Harry was kneeling in front of him swallowing his prick. He very nearly lost it right then as Harry’s throat muscles flexed around the head of his cock, but managed to bite back the sounds at the last moment by grabbing handfuls of the younger wizard’s hair. Harry held him so deeply in his throat that Snape felt sure his lover would pass out from lack of oxygen, but instead of fainting Harry began to hum. The sight of Harry’s lips stretched around his shaft and the delicious feel of the vibrations around his cockhead was incredible.
 
Harry drew his head back slowly, sucking hard, laving the sensitive vein on the underside of Snape’s prick with the flat of his tongue. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on Snape’s upper lip as Harry nibbled on his foreskin, poking the tip of that talented tongue into the weeping slit to lap up the sweet drops of pre-come. Green eyes met black as Harry plunged his head forward again, plugging his throat, sucking, licking, moaning around the sensitive glans. Glorious torture indeed, but Snape somehow managed to keep silent as he bucked against the younger wizard’s face.
 
It wasn’t until Harry began to fondle Snape’s ball sac with one hand and tweak one tight nipple with the other that the older man felt he might lose control. He reared back so suddenly that his prick jumped from Harry’s mouth with a dull pop. "Stop," he panted, scowling as Harry rose to his feet with a wicked grin on his face.
 
"Such restraint, Severus," Harry cooed. "I’m impressed. Of course, you realize this means I’m just going to have to try harder to shatter that restraint." Snape shivered with delight, but made no sound. "Bend over and grab hold of that bookcase. Accio lube!"
 
A moment later, one greased finger was worming its way deep into Snape’s body. A second followed shortly thereafter, twisting the sphincter open forcefully, flitting across the sensitive bud of his prostate until he was gasping for more. "So hot, Severus," Harry breathed in his lover’s ear. "So hot. So tight. You can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you." Determined not to speak, Snape shook his head frantically as a third finger slipped inside. "I want to fill you up and pump you full of my come, Severus. I want to feel your slippery hole clenching around my cock. I want to hear you scream." Another deliberate nudge to the tender gland left Snape quaking.
 
Severus’s control really was admirable, Harry admitted to himself. Under ordinary circumstances, the normally reserved older man would be howling for more by now. Near the breaking point himself, Harry withdrew his fingers and stroked lubricant down the length of his swollen prick. Curling his fingers around Snape’s hipbone with one hand, he positioned himself at his lover’s entrance and pressed the head of his cock into the cleft just enough so Snape could feel the pressure. "Tell me what you want, Severus," he commanded.
 
Snape snapped his head around and looked at his lover over his shoulder. "That’s cheating!" the older wizard protested.
 
Harry grinned. "I don’t care. Tell me what you want or you won’t get it." He rocked his hips forward, pressing ever so slightly into the aching hole in front of him. "Tell me."
 
Snape tried to rear back and impale himself on the pillar of flesh that was teasing him into insensibility, but Harry steadied his hips and did not allow him to move. Finally, his control snapped. Pride be damned. He needed to have that cock inside him NOW.
 
"Fuck me, Harry!" he cried. "Now! Fuck me hard!"
 
Harry complied immediately, piercing through the ring of muscle and seating himself balls deep in a single go. Snape bellowed as his young lover thrust into him. "Faster, Harry! Oh, yes… do it, Harry, fuck me. Fuckmefuckmefuck me… you’re a god, Harry, you’re a demon… ohhh…" The stream of profanity reached a fever pitch as Harry reached around with a lubricated hand and began fisting Snape’s rock-hard prick. Both men cried out with abandon as they shuddered and came, each screaming the other’s name.
 
"That was a dirty trick, Potter," Snape gasped, straightening up as Harry pulled out.
 
"It was rather a Slytherin thing to do, wasn’t it," Harry replied, grinning. "But don’t worry. I promise to play nice while Ron and Hermione are here. They’ll never know what a filthy mouth you have."
 
"Thank you ever so much," Snape said dryly. "Shower?" he asked, kissing the smile from Harry’s face.
 
"Mm, yes," Harry replied, linking his fingers through Snape’s and allowing himself to be led across the room.
 
Halfway to the bathroom he suddenly remembered the letter to Ron and Hermione. "I’ll be in directly," he said, whistling for Hedwig as the first staccato sounds of running water filled the air. "Take that letter to Ron and Hermione, will you?" he instructed when the bird appeared, gesturing toward the desk.
 
Hedwig hooted softly in response and hopped onto the desk as Harry entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The white owl cocked her head quizzically at the quill that was still poised over the sheet of parchment, now heavy with dark lines of writing. Then she slipped the parchment out from under the hovering nib and flew off, clutching it tightly in her beak.
 
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 
Hermione read the letter for the third time, her eyes wide with shock. Ron was collapsed into the armchair next to her, clutching his sides as he convulsed with laughter.
 
"‘Oh, Harry!’" he singsonged in a high, falsetto voice once he’d caught his breath. "‘Fuck me, Harry! You’re a god! You’re a demon!’" He paused to swipe at the mirth-induced tears that rolled down his cheeks. "I told you Snape bottomed!" he crowed gleefully as his wife looked up at him, her mouth open in a wide "O" of astonishment. "You owe me breakfast in bed!"

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Search the Seas
Author: Farfalla, in one of her spiritual moods
Contact: blueberrysnail @ yahoo.com
Fandom: Original Series Star Trek
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: G
Part: 1/1
My K/S website: http://spirk.cosmicduckling.com 
Betas: Sianna, Sawa Moondroplette, and the formidable Mina-chan
Disclaimer: The entire Trek universe belongs to Paramount and will not suffer much from the poking and prodding of our curious collective imaginations. We mean our beloved characters no harm and think that quite possibly they enjoy the variety ;-)
Summary: Kirk's soul, in death, waits for Spock to find him
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent

SEARCH THE SEAS

It feels strange to float like this and not struggle to put my head up out of this dimensionless fluidity. There is no surface to this water; indeed, it cannot be fairly called either water or air. My arms face no external resistance to their movement, but they propel me nowhere. I have no control over anything anymore, but now this can no longer scare me. It is all over.

What was life? One adventure after another, unevenly and often unpredictably spaced between periods of peace or boredom, depending on my outlook at the time. A galaxy whose endlessness at times was not big enough, or a dwelling built for two that seemed too big when just one man was there to keep it warm.

And now, what next? That is the greatest mystery we knew. I expect no fluffy white clouds or hordes of white-clad seraphs singing Rococo music. Nothing, either, has sucked me down into a swirling mass of flaming lava. Not that either outcome seemed likely to me ever in life. Whatever happens after this point, none in the only world I have known could tell me. Nobody knows, because that is the privilege.

Nobody but you, my love.

For you have already navigated the waters of death, t'hy'la, and yet been reeled back to the shore to my waiting arms. When you die it will be to die *again*, and you will know how to find me. I pray you will find me! But I trust you will know the way.

Constant were the forces like the ebb and flow of ocean waves that drew us together, but kept us apart. Barriers... separating us.... tangible and intangible. First shyness, and uncertainty; Vulcan tradition, duty, misunderstanding; a horrible glass wall that even the burning pain of our love could not sear through to touch one last time, and then death itself, the ultimate barrier; Starfleet, and Klingon brutality; memory loss, a small tragedy compared to the infinite joy of your return to me as a friend; the icy prison world of Rura Penthe; ribbons of energy, and the power of a selfish and insane greed. Where were you when I died, dear one?

You knew I was not dead when I was first stolen from our life together; I know you could feel my mind, closed away by some unknown manifestation of the universe, living somewhere but locked away. I conjured you up many times, more beautiful than any other vision of paradise, black hair shimmering like onyx and soft like running my fingers through the sound of a harp. The powerful, smoldering body of your youth. You weren't real. I imagined you as you had been when I had seen you last. Each line in your face reminded me of the many years we had spent together. Your eyelashes were long and fluttered like butterflies on my cheek. But you weren't real. It was only an image, a deception, a reflection in the water that would glimmer out of existence the moment a pebble of reality could be thrown into it. I finally had to accept that you couldn't be created out of nothing. Incongruously, Paradise was now the barrier that kept me from your side.

Alone, I let myself be swept away into older fantasies, into a completely different conception of myself, in a life that never would have satisfied me in any real sense. Instead of a silver bird I rode horses, and the creature that shared my life was a shadow whose mind could never connect with mine. I drugged myself with her to dull the pain of not being with you. And that was happiness, of a sort.

Where were you in the real world when I returned to it? The bond was numb when I tried to reach you, as if clouds of dust had built up over time. You locked it away in your heart and never investigated it, never studied it, because too much scrutiny of the pain and the loss and loneliness would have brought even you to your knees. After eighty years, you would have carefully taught yourself not to set my proverbial place at the table in your mind.

I know you are near, now. There is no time in this place, and I cannot tell if there have been five minutes or fifty years passed in the world of the living. I hope you will be happy to see me. It has been long, for you...

And you will know how to find me. Now that we swim in eternity, the strength of our love will return you to me. I feel you draw closer, float closer, the bond in my mind clearing its throat like a songbird's ghost. I see a shape in the darkness. There is a part of me that still can't believe it is really you, after so much disappointment and false imagery.

Spock?

Oh, I fall, I sink, into what I know is finally real. It *is* you! I know you are here with me, I *know* it is you, because you are old. I never knew you with gray hair... and so you can't be just a dream. My eyes drink that most divine nectar of the sight of you, tall and pointed-eared, noble, long-limbed and graceful like a cat. You are here with me! Never again will we be torn from each other, and there are no more barriers, now that we are both on the far side of the last hurdle there is.

"Jim" is the thought in your mind that incinerates the cobwebs surrounding our bond. You float behind me and encircle me with your arms. I lean back into you as you cradle me and kiss the sides of my face tenderly. Nothing else will ever happen to us, ever again.

I knew you would know how to find me.

END

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: Mutually Beneficial
Author: Minim Calibre
RATING: R
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer. BtVS and all the characters are not mine. They belong to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, et al. Just playing in their sandbox.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent , sequel to December 7th's Fringe Benefits.
Feedback Email address: cicada@cablespeed.com

MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Spike said listlessly.

"Doing that thing. The one where you're all quiet and pensive. It's creeping me out."

Spike turned his head and looked at Xander with something that almost resembled interest. "Why's that?"

"Because. Because I just *know* that the whole time, you're thinking, which wouldn't be so bad, except you're obviously thinking about things you regret doing, which, given your history, means you're thinking about murder and mayhem and a little bit of the old 'Ultra-Violence'."

"Don't tell my Anya never thought back on all the horrible things she did during her career, Xander."

"Yes, but somehow, when she did it, it was cute. Okay, maybe a little creepy, but mostly cute. You, on the other hand, are just creepy. More creepy than you were when you were being reasonable, and you'd set the bar pretty high with that one."

With an apathetic shrug, Spike went back to his one-vamp mime interpretation of Colonel Kurtz. The horror. Not to mention the annoyance, irritation, and--oh yeah--the sexual frustration. At some point, Spike's reasonable facade had slipped into some sort of crushing, soulful depression. Unfortunately, at the same point, he'd gone from the Felix role to the Oscar roll in their odd coupledom. A depressed, moody, repentant vampire, it turned out, was a great housekeeper. A neurotically great housekeeper. The place hadn't been this clean since Anya'd been left standing at the alter.

Xander had liked it better when Spike's idea of penance involved more penis, less Pine-Sol. No blood-rings on the coffee table, no wet towels on the floor, no wet mouth on little Xander for days. Something had to give.

"Spike?"

A grunt of acknowledgement (no nod, no movement, just a quiet grunt) was all he got in reply. Make that a passive-aggressive depressed, moody, repentant, house-cleaning, holding-out-on-his-host vampire.

"Snap out of it."

Not even a grunt.

Fine. A few years with Anya had taught him a thing or two about dealing with pouting roomies. Xander got down between Spike's knees and started undoing the tight, black jeans.

It got more than a grunt. "Hang on! What the devil are you doing?"

"Quid quo blow, Spike. Ah, commando man, I see. Good, that'll make it snappy."

Xander lowered his head, licking and teasing until Spike's cock was hard enough to suck, and the grunts turned to groans. With a lifetime of expertise garnered from the sock puppet of love, his hands stroked base and balls before moving to that little in-between bit and pressing up just so...

Spike came in a room-temperature rush, and Xander forced himself to swallow. He lifted his head, wiped his lips, and smiled gamely at the stunned vampire.

"Better?"

Spike blinked, shook his head, and blinked again. "Did that just happen, or am I hallucinating again?"

"You bet it just happened, Mister. Now answer my question: better?"

A hint of a smirk passed across Spike's face. "It's like you once said; sure, until next time."

The next morning, when Xander woke up, he found toothpaste on the mirror and wet towels on the carpeting.

Hallelujah.

END

MISCELLANEOUS SAM/AL QUANTUM  LEAP

Title:       A Leap out of Time
Author:   Diana Williams
RATING:  NC-17
Pairing:   Al/Sam
Fandom:  Quantum Leap
Disclaimer:  I don't own them.  If I did, we all know how the damn thing would have ended…with Sam home and in Al's bed. 
Spoilers:  Spoilers for the show in general and for the last episode in particular.  You don't have to know the series to read the story, but it might not make a lot of sense.
Show Notes:  You know those notes at the end of the last show?  Well, I had my eyes closed and my fingers in my ears at that point.  La-la-la, didn't happen…
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback:  Diana@slashcity.com

A LEAP OUT OF TIME

Sam Beckett felt the familiar tingle moving through his body and closed his eyes in relief.  It had been a hell of a Leap, and he couldn't get out of here fast enough.  He felt as if he had gone a couple rounds in the ring again and hoped that the next Leap would be easier.  Not that he really thought there was a chance of that happening.  As that mysterious bartender had warned him, the Leaps had gotten harder.  He wondered if Leapers ever got a vacation - or at least a sick day.  He could sure use one.

Sam felt himself settle into the body of his new host and, with a sigh, opened his eyes and looked around to get a quick first impression of his surroundings.  Sometimes, all he got was that moment of assessment before he was thrown into the middle of a situation, and he'd learned to make the most of it. 

He looked around the room cautiously, taking in the Christmas tree standing by the window and the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.  Okay, it was Christmas time and it was cold - he could see snow outside the window.  There was also a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket by the fireplace, a tray of finger foods set on a low table to the side, and the lights were turned down low, so obviously he was expecting company. 

His heart sank at that.  Never one to enjoy meaningless sex, he'd found it increasingly more difficult to deal with that aspect of his Leaps.  It didn’t help that the one he really wanted was forever beyond his reach, both because of his premature use of the Quantum Accelerator and his own interference with history.  Not that they'd ever talked about that change - lately things had been too hectic during Leaps for more than an exchange of information - but he'd noticed that Al's conversation no longer included those risqué references to his varied sexual encounters.  Understandable, really, since Sam had fixed things so that Al and Beth stayed together.  Oddly enough, Sam found that he missed the very things that had embarrassed him so much in the past.  Hell, he just missed spending time with Al.

A familiar sound made him turn around with a smile.  There he was, Al Calavicci, standing in the Door and frowning down at his handlink as he punched its buttons.  Sam took advantage of the few seconds that Al was occupied to greedily absorb the way he looked today.  It was obviously night at the Project and Al had been summoned quickly because he hadn't even had a chance to change out of his nightwear.  Sam couldn't help grinning at the sight of electric blue silk pajamas offset by a silver-colored robe tastefully striped with blue and black and the matching slippers. 

"Feeling a little subdued tonight, are we, Al?" he teased.

"Very funny, Sam," Al said, his eyes still on the handset.  "We're having a little trouble getting information on this one.  So far, we've figured out that it's Christmas Eve, 1985, and you're at a little resort in Colorado."  He glanced around the room and grinned lewdly.  "And I think we can both guess what's goin' on here.  Nice setup, Sam."  He glanced over at his friend for the first time; his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  "Sam!"

Sam looked down at his body - or rather, his host's body - in concern.  He was wearing nightwear as well, a more subdued shade of blue silk with a black robe and slippers.  There didn't appear to be anything wrong with either his clothes or his body.  "What?"

"You're - you!"

"What?"  Sam crossed to a mirror hanging on the wall and stared at his own reflection.  It was the same face he'd stared at in Al's bar, however long ago that was.  "I've Leaped into myself again?"

Al's eyes were locked on him still as he slowly shook his head.  "Can't be.  You look like you do now, not like you looked in '85.  And you weren't even *in* Colorado at Christmas in '85."

Sam nodded slowly, vaguely remembering that he'd spent Christmas with Al and his third? fourth? wife.  Al had been worried about him ever since Donna had left him standing at the altar…He hastily derailed that memory and looked at his reflection again.  Yes, this was definitely an older Sam Beckett - he hadn't had that white streak before he started Leaping.  Then he saw something else in the mirror and he caught his breath as he swung around to stare at Al.

"Al - you - I saw you in the mirror!"

"That's impossible.  I'm a hologram; I don't *have* a reflection."  Al looked back down at the handlink and frowned as he punched a few buttons.  "There's something hinky going on here, Sam.  I can't get anything from Ziggy."  He punched another button as he snapped, "And the damn Door won't open.  What in hell is going on?"

Sam ignored Al's irritated fuming as he slowly crossed the room.  He tentatively stretched his hand toward Al, expecting to see it pass right through the hologram - and touched solid matter.

Al's head jerked up at his touch, his eyes widening.  "Sam?"

"You're real," Sam breathed.  "We're both real."

Al reached out as well, his breath catching as his fingers also touched flesh.  He looked up, his eyes meeting Sam's with identical expressions of surprise and confusion.

"Oh, boy," Al said.

Sam didn't bother questioning what was happening.  With a groan, he pulled Al into his arms and held him tight, the way he'd wanted to do for so very long. 

Al wrapped his arms tightly around Sam's waist and buried his face against Sam's shoulder.  He could feel Sam's body shaking and murmured soothingly, "It's all right, Sam.  I'm here.  Everything's OK."

Sam nodded, tightening his hold on Al.  He didn't want to let go, afraid that he would Leap out.  And it felt so *good* to hold Al like this, to feel his warmth and smell the familiar scents of cigar and cologne mixed together.  He committed it all to memory, knowing that this was one he'd never lose no matter how many Leaps he made.

"Um, Sam, as nice as this is, you're squishing me a bit," Al teased. 

"Sorry, Al," Sam murmured, pulling back with an apologetic half-smile. 

Al sighed as he caught sight of the look on Sam's face, and he reeled him back in for another hug.  "It's all right, Sam.  Just watch where you're crying, okay?  This is a very expensive suit."

Sam relaxed at the feel of his best friend's arms closed protectively around him and smiled.  "You mean robe."

"Huh?"

"An expensive *robe*, not suit."

"Sam, what are you talking about - " Al stopped and pushed away as he realized what Sam had said, and looked down at his clothes in astonishment.  "What in hell - this *isn't* what I was wearing when I stepped into the IC."  He looked down at his handlink, saying, "I don't know what's going on here - must be some sort of anomaly.  That, or someone's been messing around with the program."  He looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "Gooshie!  This isn't funny!"

"Al - "

"Just a minute, Sam."  He smacked the link again and it squawked at him but the display didn't change.  "Damn it, Ziggy!  Where are you when we need you?"



An odd suspicion was forming in Sam's head.  He looked around the room: no doors.  He crossed to the window and looked out but, other than a vague impression of snow outside, he couldn't see anything.   "Al."

Al looked up from the handlink and snapped, "What?"

"Not you, Al.  The other Al.  He did this."

Al rolled his eyes.  "Right, Sam.  A bartender in Pennsylvania somehow fixed it so that you and I are together in a little cabin in Colorado for Christmas…" His voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying.  "Oh, no.  You're not going to start that crap about that guy being You-Know-Who again!"

Sam nodded vigorously.  "Think about it, Al.  Who else could pull something like this off?"

"Lots of people!" Al said.  "That evil Leaper, for example."

Sam gave Al a Look.  "Come on, Al.  Why would they want to give me my greatest wish for Christmas?"  He flushed as he realized what he'd said and turned away from Al, towards the fireplace, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robe.

"Sam?"  He could feel Al move up closer, behind him.  "Your greatest wish, Sam?"  Sam nodded silently.  "What, you always wanted to spend Christmas in Colorado?" Sam shook his head, still not speaking.  "Then - " Al swallowed and said, "You wanted to spend Christmas with me?"  Sam nodded again.  "Aw, Sammy."

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam said, his voice muffled as he avoided looking at his best friend.  Probably his *former* best friend after this.  "I wouldn't have said anything.  I know that you and Beth are together - "

"What makes you think that?" Al asked, frowning.

"Because I went back and fixed things," Sam said quietly.  "Asked her to wait for you."

"Oh, Sam," Al said, sighed.  He reached out to touch Sam's shoulder as he said, "Yeah, she waited this time but it didn't work out for us.  After seven years apart, we'd both changed too much.  We stuck it out for another ten years, had two terrific kids, but then Bethie met someone…  It was an amicable divorce and we're still friends.  Besides, *I'd* met someone, too."

Sam nodded, feeling his throat tighten.  Damn, he never *could* catch Al between wives.  Not that Al would be interested.  "Your second wife…I can't remember her name."

Al shook his head.  "Only have one ex-wife this time around, for which my bank account thanks you.  Nah, this was someone else.  Someone special.  Real genius type, degrees and awards out the ass.  He has this crazy idea about traveling in time, only I don't think it's all that crazy."  He squeezed Sam's shoulder.  "He's also funny, and sexy as hell."

Sam turned, his eyes wide.  "Al?" he breathed, scarcely able to believe.  He met Al's eyes, and the warm affection he saw there made his breath catch.  He reached out for Al again, their mouths meeting as they wrapped their arms around each other again.  Sam moaned at the feel of Al's lips on his, barely brushing over his own lips at first and then diving in for a kiss so intense that Sam could feel his toes curling.  In fact, his whole body was tingling all over. 

*No, not _now_*, he thought and clutched at Al even tighter, as if that would keep him from Leaping.

Al broke the kiss, chuckling a little.  "I love you, too, Sammy, but let a guy breath, will ya?"

Sam blinked, stunned by the ready admission of love.  "I thought - - it felt like I was about to Leap."

Al smiled but shook his head.  "You weren't, Sam.  I promise.  Although that's gotta be the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my kissing, comparing it to a Quantum Accelerator."

Sam couldn't help smiling.  "Maybe we should try that again, just to verify the data."

"If you say so, Dr. Beckett."  They kissed again, and this time Sam concentrated on taking away *Al's* breath.  He grinned triumphantly as Al sagged weakly against him.

"Wow," Al breathed.  "I think I need to sit down after that."

"Well, we've got a beautiful fire to sit by, and a bottle of champagne," Sam pointed out.  "Seems a shame to waste them."

"You said it."  With a last quick kiss, Al released Sam and turned to pick up the champagne bottle.  Sam turned to the fire to tend it and frowned as he realized there were two stockings hanging from the mantle; odd - he hadn't noticed them before now.  As he read the names on them, his eyes widened again and his hands shook slightly as he took them down.

"Here you go," Al said, holding out a glass of champagne.  He saw the stunned look on Sam's face as he stared down at the stockings in his hand.  "Whatcha got there, Sammy?"

"Stockings," Sam said, his voice coming out in a croak.  He cleared his throat.  "With our names on them."

Al's eyes widened and he set down the glasses on the hearth so that he could take his stocking.  He looked up at Sam, catching the look on Sam's face.  "It's a coincidence, that's all."

"A coincidence?" Sam demanded.  "Us - here.  This place.  These stockings with *our* names on them?"

"Okay, okay," Al conceded.  "So it's more than coincidence.  But why would He go to all this trouble?  I mean, last time I checked, He was supposed to be against this sorta thing," he said, gesturing back and forth between the two of them.

"I don't think he is," Sam said softly.  Then his eyes lit up just like a little boy's.  "Let's see what's in them."

They sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace, stockings in each of their laps, and each pulled out the first item in them.  Al realized he was holding a large tube of sexual lubricant and a box of condoms in his hands and grinned.  "Now *that's* my idea of an All-Knowing Deity.  Not to mention practical.  Guess it means we have His blessing at least.  Whatcha got, Sam?"

Sam wordlessly turned the picture frame he was holding around so that Al could see it.  It was a picture of the two of them, as they would have looked in 1985, standing in front of the Christmas tree with their arms around each other as they smiled into the camera.  A label at the bottom of the frame said "Christmas, 1985".

"Wow," Al said, taking the picture into his hands.  "Talk about changing history, huh?  Guess we really made this happen, then."

"Yeah," Sam said softly.  "I guess we did."

Al looked over at his friend, and the love in Sam's eyes was so deep that it brought a lump to Al's throat.  He swallowed hard and blinked away the moisture in his eyes, turning his attention back to the stockings.  "What else is in here?  Feels like a rock - hey, maybe it's a lump of coal."

Sam grinned as he reached into his own stocking.  "Why, Al Calavicci, were you naughty this year?"

Al looked over at him and waggled his eyebrows.  "Some call it naughty, some call it nice.  Play your cards right and I'll show you."

Sam laughed and then pulled out a small box from the toe of his stocking.  His breath caught at the sight of it - there was no mistaking what kind of box this was.  With shaking hands, he opened it and stared down at the gold band inside, then looked over at Al. 

Al had a similar box in one hand and a ring in the other, and he read the inscription aloud.  " 'Al & Sam - Past, Present, Future'."  He looked over at Sam, and Sam looked inside his ring to find the same inscription.  He looked back at Al.

"You okay with this?" he asked quietly.

Al looked at the ring for a minute.  "Yeah," he said finally.  "It seems…right, not even taking into account the fact that I'm nuts about you.  Besides, I have a feeling the Big Guy's not going to take no for an answer."  He grinned .  "Figures he'd have a thing against us 'living in sin'."  He put the ring back in the box and held it out to Sam.  "Put it on me, Sam."

Sam took the box with hands that were surprisingly steady and removed the ring.  Carefully, he slid it onto Al's ring finger.  It fit perfectly.  Wordlessly, he held out his own box and then his left hand.  Al took out the ring and grasped Sam's hand.  He kissed the base of the finger first, then slid the ring into place.

"Well, Mrs. Calavicci, is this where I get to ravish the bride?" Al said, leering.

Sam grinned, "I thought it was *kiss*, although that would explain why you got married so many times - Mrs. Beckett."

"Can I help it if I'm a sucker for honeymoons?"  He waggled his eyebrows at Sam.  "Speaking of which, technically this is our wedding night."

Sam fell back on the rug, pulling Al down on top of him.  "Be gentle with me."

Al snorted and would have said something but Sam pulled his head down for an intense kiss that made Al forget everything else.

*************

Al lay on his back on the rug, staring up at the ceiling.  Sam was sleeping soundly still, his head pillowed on Al's chest and his arms wrapped tightly around Al's body as if he was afraid Al wouldn't be there in the morning.  *Perhaps he was afraid of just that,* Al thought with a sigh. 

He turned his head to press a kiss against his lover's shaggy hair as he looked down at their entangled bodies.  Who'd have ever thought that he, Albert Calavicci, ladies' man extraordinaire, would fall head-over-heels for a tall, skinny guy who could think circles around just about everyone else on the planet?  And fall he had - hard.  Just the sight of a pale shoulder that had escaped from the covers and was now gleaming in the firelight was enough to stir his libido in a way he hadn't felt since he was a randy young teenager.

*Beautiful*, he thought to himself, not even worrying about the sappy smile on his face.  *I could get used to waking up like this*

He turned his head towards the fireplace and caught sight of the framed picture.  Careful not to disturb Sam, he reached out to pick it up and look at it again.  There was no doubt this was the same tree as the one they were lying under, and now he could see gold gleaming on their joined hands as they smiled out at him.  The love in Sam's eyes was so intense that he felt tears gather in his own.

He set down the picture and glanced up at the ceiling.  "God," he said softly, "You know we haven't been on speaking terms for awhile, but Sam thinks You're behind all this, and I gotta say that his instincts are usually good.  And maybe part of the reason for all of this was to bring the two of us together.  I gotta admit that I kinda like that idea.

"So, forgive me if I'm outta line here, but I gotta ask You a favor.  I know that *You* know Sam's a good man -- the best.  So if You still need him, I guess I gotta accept that.  But - if it's possible - could You let him come home?"

Sam stirred in his arms, blinked open his eyes, and smiled up at him.  "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Al said, kissing him tenderly.

Sam yawned and snuggled closer.  "Thought I heard you talking to someone," he murmured.

"Just myself," Al said softly.  He brushed the hair back from Sam's face.  "How you doing, kid?"

Sam's smile widened.  "Great."  He rolled on top of Al and began nuzzling his neck.  "In fact, I'm thinking that it's time for another round."

Al groaned as Sam's mouth moved down to his chest.  "You're gonna kill me, Sam."

"All part of my wicked plan.  You do still have me listed as the beneficiary on your life insurance, don't you?"

Sam's mouth moved lower and Al moaned.  "I'm changing it tomorrow.  *If* I survive the night."  He gasped as Sam's took him completely into his mouth, his hands involuntarily reaching down to grasp his lover's head.  "Geez, Sam, where'd you learn to do that?"

Sam looked up, a wicked glint in his eyes.  "Natural ability."

"Natural ability my ass…aah!"  He arched under Sam's skillful ministrations, becoming as rock hard as if he'd never come that night.

"Speaking of which," Sam said.  He released the cock he'd been relishing, ignoring Al's near-whimper, and moved up to straddle his lover's thighs.  Deftly, he rolled a condom down Al's erection, applied a layer of lubricant, and then shifted forward.  Still lubricated and relaxed from their earlier round, he easily slid down onto his lover's cock.  Al moaned at the feeling of being enclosed inside his lover's body again and, needing to feel some kind of movement, blindly reached for Sam's hips.  Sam leaned down to briefly kiss him, then sat back up and began the erotic dance of thrust and retreat. 

Overwhelmed by the sensations bombarding him, Al could do little more than hold onto his lover's hips and watch him.  Sam's body gleamed with sweat in the firelight, his muscles taut with need and pleasure.  Al thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life and, so caught up was he in watching Sam reach for his release that his own caught him by surprise.  As the overwhelming need to come hit him, he grabbed his lover's hips and pulled him down, hard.  Sam's gasp of pleasure echoed his own, both of them too overcome by the force of their shared climax to do more than whisper each other's names before collapsing in a sweaty tangle.

"The hell with the insurance," Al said hoarsely, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover, his husband.  "After that performance, you deserve to get it."

Sam chuckled sleepily and settled along Al's body for another nap.

******************

They awoke in the morning - or what appeared to be morning - with the joint awareness that this brief sojourn was over.  Silently, they cleaned up and dressed again in the discarded pajamas and robes, then stood wrapped in each other's arms for a long while, still silent.

The silence was broken by a complaining sound from the handlink and Al sighed.  "That's Ziggy," he said.  Sam nodded, slowly releasing his hold on Al.  "I expect you'll be Leaping out of here any minute now."

"Yeah."  Sam held onto Al's hand, his thumb running over the new gold band there.  "Be good."

Al shrugged, giving him a half-smile.  "Can't be anything but, with you out bouncing all over the universe."  He lifted Sam's hand and kissed his ring, his eyes locked on Sam's.  "*You* be careful."

Sam nodded.  He felt the familiar tingle start running through his body, felt Al's hand become less and less substantial.  "Keep the bed warm for me, Al," he said.  "I'm coming home."

Al nodded, smiling crookedly even though he was aware that tears were running down his cheeks.  "Your mouth to God's ears," he said, watching as the blue light engulfed his lover and then disappeared, taking Sam with it.  He looked up at the ceiling.  "You hear that?  He's coming home.  If I have to burn up every one of Ziggy's circuits to do it, he's coming home."

There was nothing but the silence of the Imaging Chamber around him.  Dashing the tears away from his cheeks, he punched the key for the Door and strode through it, yelling orders even as he moved.

"Ziggy! I want a lock on Dr. Beckett, and I want it ASAP.  Don't just stand around, people - we've got a Leaper out there somewhere…"

The End