ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 6

CLARK/LEX

Title: Fireplaces, Kittens and Hot Chocolate
Author: philtre
Disclaimer: Fireplace - nope. Kitten - nope. Hot Chocolate - allergic. See, I don't even own anything you could sue for.
Category: PWP, Established Relationship, Futurefic
Rating: A good solid G
Spoilers: No.
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Summary: Title says it all.
Author's note: Lady Angel ordered - 1. clex snuggling before the fire; 2. Futurefic; 3. lionel in a santa suit. I cheated on number three. This fic is part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: Warms the heart more than fireplaces, kittens or hot chocolate. Direct warmth to twopphiltre@yahoo.ca
Thank you: to the good folks at 'slash & grammar for dummies' for embracing me into their little world. *g* Thanks for the beta, starla and Kel (not that one, the other one).

Clark landed on the balcony, letting himself in through the unlocked glass door. A warm sensation of contentment flooded him, the way it always did when he came home each night to find Lex waiting for him. "Hey"

"Hey, yourself."

Clark grinned as Lex turned on the couch to look at him. Faded T-shirt, soft pajama bottoms, drink in hand. The day would never come when it didn't occur to him that Lex was absolutely beautiful.

"I hate that outfit more and more with each passing day."

And the mood was gone. "We are not having this argument again."

"It's not an argument. It's a comment."

"I'm not changing my costume, Lex."

"Will you at least get out of it so that I don't have to look at you in it?"

"It's just a suit. You'd think after eleven years you'd be used to it." Clark shook his head, removing his suit as he made his way to the dressing room.

"The day I get used to it is the day that I throw myself off the balcony," Lex hollered after him.

Clark zipped back to stand in front of Lex, one eyebrow raised. "And I'd have to save you and you'd have to touch my costume."

"I'd fabricate some devious mastermind of a plan that you'd need to fix."

Clark broke into a soft smile, straddling Lex's hips as he settled down on him. "I'd save you first."

He leaned forward, capturing Lex's lower lip, sucking and biting gently. A hand drifted up his back, then shoved hard against his chest.

"Can you at least just get out of that damn suit first?"

"Way to kill a moment!"

"Change before I start thinking of ways to kill you."

"Oh yeah? Then who'd warm your feet at night, huh, wiseguy?"

"I can afford electric blankets," panned Lex dryly.

Clark pretended to be hurt. "You'd trade me for blankets?" *sniff*

"Can we have this conversation with you not in that suit?"

"Fine."

Clark supersped to the dressing room and quickly pulled on some pajama bottoms. He made his way to the kitchen and quickly whipped up some hot chocolate with his heat vision.

He smiled when he entered the living room to find a ball of fur purring contentedly on Lex's lap. Placing the two mugs on the coffee table, he wrapped his arm around Lex's shoulder and leaned in to stroke the little kitten. Clark grinned when she rolled around, nudging his fingers insistently.

"Is she using the litter box?"

"Yeah. She's a smart one." Lex poked Sasha's soft tummy. "Aren't you? Yes, you are."

Clark laughed so hard, he thought he broke something. Oh Lord. This was priceless. Lex Luthor, baby talk - who'd ever imagine it was even possible. Couldn't stop laughing at the thought of how much money reporters, Lex's business associates, hell, everyone else on earth would pay to hear Lex Luthor, of all people, baby talk. Priceless.

Lex was glaring at him. "If I find out anyone heard about this, I'm cutting you off for a month."

Clark had to bite his lower lip to stop laughing. "Hey, if you want to punish yourself, go right ahead."

Lex returned to stroking Sasha's tummy.

Clark was still smiling as he grabbed the two mugs. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah. Sure." Lex took the mug from him.

Clark carefully shifted Lex and Sasha so that Lex was in between his legs. He nuzzled Lex's neck, taking in the familiar and comforting scent.

"Did you just spike your drink, Lex?"

"Yeah."

"Alcoholic."

Paused. "Haven't we had this exact conversation before?"

"We've been together for 20 years. I think we'd have a couple of overlapping conversations."

"Fuck." Lex leaned back into Clark's shoulder. "I'm old."

"Pretty much." Clark reached around him to dangle a finger in front of Sasha, laughing at the way she arched up to paw him with her little feet.

"Asshole."

"The one you like so much?"

"Oh God. Let me up, I need to spike this drink some more."

Clark grinned to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around Lex.

"Hey, turn up the fireplace."

Clark reached over to the side table and grabbed the fireplace's remote, passing it to Lex. "You always complain when I set it."

"Because you have absolutely no sense of temperature!"

"Uh, hello. Alien here. Not my fault. You want to complain? Fly out a couple of light years and take it out on my ancestors!"

"Speaking of relatives. Dad invited us over for Christmas."

"Oh Geez. Were we at my parents' last year?"

"Evidently." Lex shrugged.

"Fine." Clark chuckled when Sasha bit his fingertip.

"Don't encourage her to play rough."

"I didn't encourage you and that didn't seem to work." Clark nudged against Lex playfully.

Lex took a huge gulp of his drink. "Seriously. She needs to learn how to play nice."

"Riiiight. Like her daddy and her daddy's daddy."

Lex froze in his arms. "You did not just call me the cat's father."

Clark broke into another fit of laughter. "Oh Geez. Could you imagine if we had real kids? Then when we go over to your dad's for Christmas, he'd dress up in a Santa suit and all that."

Lex lifted one eyebrow. "Well, he does have the beard for it."

"God. I'd pay to see that." Still chuckling.

"Hell, I'd pay to see that."

Clark paused. "Wanna ask him t--"

"No." Lex smiled down at Sasha as she tried to climb up his shirt. He gently extricated her from his chest, not wanting to destroy his T-shirt.

"No to me or no to Sasha?"

"No to both of you."

"We'll have to take Sasha with us to your dad's place." Clark laughed when Sasha nudged Lex's hand because he forgot to stroke her.

"He's allergic to cats."

"Oooh. Really?"

Lex grinned. "Yeah. Let's take Sasha with us."

"You're incorrigible."

"Yeah."

"Good thing I fell in love with you before finding out."

"I'm devious too."

"Yes, you are."

They sat in silence, taking in the fireplace, their kitten and hot chocolate.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

"I know."

END

Author's note: Sasha is my sister's cat. She hasn't been a kitten for a verrrryyy long time, but she's still an insistent little minx who will meow and purr and brush up against your legs until she gets her own way.

She reminds me a lot of me. *g*

HARRY/SNAPE

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Who says it's just a plant?
Author: Nika Boadicea
Category: WAFF, holiday ficlet
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Feedback: I am a review whore, send as much as you like to  eternal_ecchi@hotmail.com
Rating: PG 'cause there's a tiny bit of slash
Summary: Spock learns about mistletoe.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Never eat yellow snow. ...Oh you mean for the story? Just a kiss and that's it, honest. Hey, do expect more warnings when the rating is PG?
Note: Written for the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Disclaimers: I don't own ST: TOS, but if I did, you can bet that there'd be more than just a little 'handclasp' *nudge nudge* The cat-girl and her girlfriend are characters that randomly show up in some of my works. I'm sorry, I just love cameos.
Beta: Sara

Space, an empty plane of exsistence. It is forever silent and it is only
the millions of stars that watch over the planets which are liberally placed
throughout. Truly, it is tranquil.

Unless the Starship Enterpise happens to be passing through.

The ship was on constant scan, even though everyone knew that there was
nothing in the sector they were passing through. But things weren't quiet
on the Enterpise, at least not in the bar area. Dozens of people from
different cultures and planets were gathered together to celebrate the
holidays. The bar was filled with music, laughter and holiday 'spirits'.

"What is this?!" A cat-girl giggled at the bartender.

"It's called eggnong." The bartender answered with a smile.

" 'S fun!" She slurred before plopping into her partner's lap, nearly
falling over giggling.

The cat-girl's partner cuddled her close and nuzzled her lover's neck before
reaching into her own pocket.

"Present." The other girl murmured into the shell of her ear.

The cat-girl 'murr'ed as she turned to look at what her girlfriend was
offering and saw a small green plant. Curiously, she plucked it up and
sniffed it. The sprig of mistletoe had a metalic scent to it and upon
feeling around it, the cat-girl pushed a button, setting the mechanisms in
motion. The two girls looked up as the mistletoe began to float above them.
With a wicked smile the cat-girl attacked her lover with affection,
ignoring those around them even as the mistletoe floated off.

The party had started fairly late and despite the volume of the music and
the large number of people, the starship captain could tell that the night
would be uneventful.

Captain Kirk picked up two drinks from the bartop and returned to his table.
Spock was seated as far away from the crowd as he could and Bones was
trying to explain mistletoe to him.

"It's tradition." Bones chuckled, taking his drink from his captain. "When
you're under a sprig of mistletoe with someone, you're supposed to kiss
them."

"What if you don't like that person?" Spock asked.

"Well during the holidays you put aside your differences to celebrate." Kirk
tried to help the good doctor.

"But it's just a piece of plant." Spock raised an eyebrow at his companions.

Kirk motioned for Bones to continue as he sipped his own drink. The warm
liquor settled in his stomach and he hummed in satisfaction.

"It's just part of the holidays, it's fun." Bones rubbed his temples.

"So you kiss people under mistletoe-"

"It's almost ceremonial." Bones interupted, exasperated with the Vulcan.

"That makes a bit more sense." Spock blinked. "Why didn't you say that to
begin with?"

Bones huffed and drained his glass, quickly excusing himself to go to the
bar. Spock fingered the glass he'd had since the start of the impromptu
gathering, ignoring the fact that his friend was chuckling at him. The
automatic lighting was dimmed as a slow song was played for the couples and
Kirk moved closer to Spock so they'd be able to see one another as they
conversed. At the bar the cat-girl and her partner flirted with the good
doctor, keeping him from wanting to come back to the table.

"Jim, do you celebrate the holidays?" Spock asked curiously.

Kirk nodded and took a sip of his eggnog. "The holidays are virtual
fountains of emotion. By participating you come closer together with those
around you, and the festivities bring happiness so you feel better about
yourself."

"But if something tragic has recently happened to a person wouldn't the
festivities make them depressed?" Spock countered.

"It depends on the person, some find it depressing and some find it a
comforting reminder that life goes on."

Kirk smiled into his glass. He truthfully loved arguing logic with the
older man. He often found himself losing because he argued with his heart
and Spock thought purely with his brain. Kirk noticed that Spock was
looking up at the ceiling and frowned before turning his gaze there as well.
Hanging over his head was a small green twig and he squinted, wondering if
it was holly.

A moment later Kirk felt surprisingly gentle fingers on his chin, turning
his head back to his Vulcan companion. He didn't pull away when Spock
closed the space between them, covering the captain's lips with his own.
The blonde leaned into the kiss, reaching out for Spocks's knee in the
shadowed area.

The floating mistletoe glided away, searching out other life forms as the
two parted. Kirk removed his hand and slumped a bit in his seat. Spock
took a sip of his drink, waiting calmly for Kirk to respond. The younger
man glanced up at the ceiling then back at the dark haired man, stunned that
he would kiss him.

"What... was that?" Kirk finally asked.

"A kiss." Spock said in a monotone. Before Kirk could continue he held up
his hand. "You wanted to celebrate the holidays, correct?"

Kirk nodded, touching his lips lightly.

"And a kiss is part of your tradition, correct? I wished to help you
celebrate." Spock stated before finishing his drink. "But now, the music is
becoming uncomfortably loud for my ears. I'm going to retire. Goodnight
Jim."

Absently, Kirk returned the sentiment and waved as Spock left the bar. The
blonde set his chin in his hand, watching the older man walk out. A smile
lit his features and he moved farther into the corner to watch the
celebrations. The captain wondered for a moment if Spock was inviting or
suggesting that he join him but shook his head at the notion.

Then again, Kirk thought to himself, Spending time with friends is a way to
celebrate. And Spock wanted to help me celebrate...

The blonde quickly got up from the table, leaving his glass behind and
snatching up a sprig of mistletoe before he walked out the doors. Perhaps
this Christmas wouldn't be dull at all.

END

JIM/BLAIR

Title: Deck The Halls
Author: Jinx
RATING: NC17
Pairing: Jim/Blair,
Fandom: The Sentinel
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em...just playin' with 'em.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Email address: jinx37kat@aol.com

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la
"Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la
"Don we now our ga..."

"boo"

"...AAAAAAYYYYY!!" Blair whirled around, almost knocking the tree down, and saw his partner. "Jim! What the hell?! You scared me, man!" He glared hard at the detective.

Jim grinned at his roommate and moved away before his friend could decide to retaliate. The sentinel managed to get the couch between himself and the younger man, but Blair was determined not to let that piece of furniture get in the way. Jumping the couch in one swift movement, he chased the laughing older man up the stairs.

Seeing that Jim was loosing it, big time, Blair stood at the top of the stairs staring at his partner. Jim was kneeling on the other side of the bed, half of his body on the bed and half off. He looked up at Blair and dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Never seeing Jim laugh this hard in his life, Blair's anger dissipated immediately and he watched his friend in awe. Jim's face was sunset red. He looked like a tomato that was about to explode. Looking closer, Blair's eyes widen as he realized that tears were streaming down Jim's face.

Not able to help himself, he started laughing, too.

Several minutes passed before Jim was able to pull himself together. He looked over at Blair and pressed his lips firmly together, resolved not to laugh.

It didn't work.

Jim snickered and sputtered before closing his eyes and dropping his head on the bed, trying desperately not to laugh.

Blair watched this display and shook his head. Never in a million years would he expect to see his friend lose it like he just had. Jim was not one to laugh very easily. Well, he did laugh, and smile; he knew a good joke when it came along. It was just that he was a reserved kind of guy. But, this... This was something to behold. Blair decided that he like it; liked it a lot.

Trying hard to wipe the smile off his own face, Blair pasted on a fake grimace, put his hands on his hips, and asked, "What was that all about?"

Shaking his head several times, Jim looked up at Blair and tried in vain to hold back a smile. "You..."

"Me? Me, what?"

"You should have saw the look you gave when I snuck up behind you. Oh, god, it was priceless!" Another tear seeped out of the corner of Jim's eye and he squeezed his eyes shut once again.

After another second, Jim opened his eyes and looked up at Blair. He was still standing with his fists planted firmly on his hips. But what he didn't know, and what was making Jim go balistic, was that he had tinsel sticking out of his hair and two ornament hooks dangling from one of those pieces of tinsel. He also must have been eating a candy cane, because he had a red blotch in the right corner of his mouth. And if that weren't enough, bits of popcorn were stuck to his shirt along with bits of angelhair. Blair looked like a three year old that was trying to decorate the Christmas tree all by himself.

Jim stood up, still smirking, and walked over to his partner. Blair watched as Jim plucked a piece of popcorn from his shirt and popping it into his mouth.

"Having fun?"

"Yes I was, thank you very much. Until you scared the hell outta me."

Leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the side of Blair's mouth that did *not* have the candy cane smear, he replied, "Sorry, Chief. Couldn't help it."

Jim kissed him.

"Yeah, right."

Jim kissed him again.

"You just couldn't..."

Jim kissed him.

Blair shut up.

* * * * * *

Several long minutes passed. Blair had forgotten his earlier anger and was now plastered down Jim's side, sucking longingly on the soft spot behind Jim's right ear.

Jim, for his part, had his head tipped back, trying to help give Blair more access to his throat and was moaning his pleasure quite loudly.

Although Blair was no longer mad, he still felt he needed to exact his revenge. And torturing Jim this way was the best revenge he could think of.

Blair worked his tongue from the back of Jim's ear to around the outside before plunging in. That was all it took.

The sentinel went down.

How they fell on the bed was anyone's guess. The last either of them remembered, they were standing at the top of the stairs.

But, that was a mute point as they were both too far gone to care.

Slowly working his way down Jim's throat, Blair's tongue darted around and aside, touching and tasting his lover. Making him go insane. He sucked on the pliant flesh, marking the bigger man with his love. Red splotches were immediate as he made his way to another, unmarked part of Jim's neck and began to suck and kiss.

Briefly, he sat back to admire his work. Jim's neck was ringed with hickies from one ear to the other. And... there was no way to hide it.

Blair smiled.

Revenge is sweet.

At the first moan of protest from his lover, Blair leaned down to kiss his lips. Now it was Blair who groaned when Jim opened his mouth wide to let the younger man's tongue invade.

God, but did Jim taste good or what?

After they plundered each others mouth, Blair twisted his head away, gasping for air. Jim sure knew how to suck air. The man had taken every drop Blair had to give.

Blair loved it.

Hearing the soft moan of his partner, Blair chose to ignore it as he made his way slowly down Jim's body. He stopped to lick the hollow of his lover's throat, tasting the moisture there, lapping the sweet taste into himself. His path was impeded as his tongue touched dry cloth. Looking down at the button down shirt and tee shirt Jim wore underneath, Blair made his decision quickly. Sitting back on Jim's powerful thighs, Blair grabbed the top of both pieces of fabric and...RRRIIIIIIIPPPPP!!!! Buttons flew everywhere as thread tensed and tore and the white tee shirt underneath was all but shredded. Jim can use it as a dust cloth, Blair mused as he feasted his eyes on the bounty in front of him.

The massive chest was heaving and the muscles were flexing unvolunteeringly. Blair looked up and gasped as passion heated eyes glowed widely at him. He knew what was going through Jim's mind: Blair had never, ever, in the several months they'd been together, been this...primal... with him. And from the looks of things, Jim was liking this...liking this a lot.

Still looking Jim in the eyes, Blair reached forward and began to knead the firm pectorals. He rubbed his hands with firm gentleness from the broad shoulders to narrow waist, back and forth, up and down; the touch getting lighter and lighter until Jim eyes fluttered closed in ecstacy and he started writhing beneath him.

Seeing his lover give himself so completely, Blair had to close his eyes as well. He felt a small sting behind his eyes at the depth of his lover's commitment to him.

Several minutes of just touching and Blair needed more. He knew that Jim needed it, too. He bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a peaked nipple, laving and sucking the sweet taste into his mouth. A tiny sheen of sweet covered Jim's torso, making the taste that much better. The licking continued until Jim's body begin to buck haphazardly. Moving his mouth a mere millimeter from Jim's skin, Blair blew a hot breath over the cool, sensitive nub as he murmured, "Shh, baby. Shhhhhhhh." The word was drawn out as he continued to blow.

Hearing the moan of pleasure, Blair transfered his attention to the other nipple, sending Jim flying all over again.

By the time Blair was finished with Jim's chest, the bigger man was heaving and groaning and begging for more. Slowly, Blair slid down Jim's body, putting him face to face with Jim's denim covered groin. He had to press down on Jim's hips because the sentinel was almost out of control. Well, Blair mused, let's see if I can change that 'almost' to a 'completely'.

Settling himself between Jim's spread thighs, Blair rested both elbows heavily on Jim's hips and unbuttoned the top button of the jeans. He placed a soft kiss on the revealed flesh before making an 'O' with his mouth. Once his mouth was circled on Jim sensitive skin, Blair sucked and sucked hard. The sensation sending Jim's back arching off the bed accompaning by a loud, low groan. Blair looked up briefly to make sure that Jim was okay, and seeing his lover's head thrashing from side to side on the pillow, Blair returned his attention to his task.

He unzipped a quarter of an inch before fastening his mouth to Jim's skin and sucking hard. Another quarter inch, another pleasure-filled suck. He continued this until the zipper was completely down.

Wanting nothing more than to see his lover completely naked, Blair scrambled off the bed, stripped Jim of his jeans, socks, and shoes in one swift movement, and returned to his favorite spot between Jim's legs.

Now that Jim was naked from the waist down, Blair had complete access to the rest of his lover. Ignoring the throbbing, swollen flesh, rising over the flat belly for the moment, he licked his way down the left leg, taking care to kiss and caress every inch of that muscular thigh. He felt Jim tremble when Blair moved his tongue to the inner thigh, so he decided to concentrate in that area for awhile.

Jim's control was slipping second by second, Blair could tell. The trembling beneath him grew and the moans increased to record heights.

Blair smiled against his lover.

The night was just beginning...

The next morning, Jim was getting ready for work and entered the bathroom to shower and shave. Blair was in the kitchen making breakfast when he heard, "BLAIR!!!!" ring out from down the hall. Seems as though Jim found the ring of hickies on his neck.

'Deck the halls!' Blair laughed to himself.

END

Title: Nature of Desire
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Rating: Really wanted this to be NC-17, but it’s really R for the most part
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author's e-mail: kelandris@drakmail.net
Author's webpage: http://kelandris.iwarp.com/main.html (at the moment, mostly Jay/Silent Bob archived there)
Disclaimer: Yes, practically everything I write involves characters originally created by other people. Those other people will hopefully feel flattered. In this case, those people are Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and anyone at WB. I’m not worth suing, really.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Spoilers: Little bits here and there through season 5 at least
Summary: An argument leads to a concession, and look at the pretty lights!
Author's notes: These are not the druids you are looking for. Actually, when I was going over the *real* story for the Advent challenge, I was hit *spung!* between the eyes by this idea, and am thus now committed to *five* stories in the Advent challenge. Most of them Spike/Xander. Someone make it stop…And also, this was the most frustrating story ever. You know the ones where you really want the boys to have hot rampant sex, and they just…won’t? This was one of those.

“Why not?”

“Because I say so. Now leave off.”

“I want to know why.”

Two young men stood at the end of the ‘Art-on-the-Green’ exhibit. One would think, as many inexplicable deaths and sudden disappearances there had been in Sunnydale, night exhibitions would be out of the question. Yet, unfathomably, Sunnydale kept right on scheduling them, holding them, and lamenting the rise in obituaries in the weeks following.

These two had caught the attention of many young women as they’d strolled through the walking mall, looking at various artworks. One was as dark as the other was fair, which was interesting, as the fair-haired one wore unrelieved black--black leather duster, black Doc Martens, black jeans, black t-shirt--and the one with the dark hair wore a blue cotton shirt with a creamy yellow t-shirt underneath, and jeans so faded they were nearly bleached white.

Halfway through the exhibit the argument had started, the low voices beginning to snap and crackle with their own anger-fueled energy.

“Well, pet, maybe I don’t want you hanging around my neck forever.”

“You say that like forever with me would be a bad thing.”

“Well, wouldn’t it?”

“Like you really mean that.”

They paused by a sketch of a work-in-progress that the city had commissioned, what would be a girl in bronze sitting on a swing, frozen in the moment of pushing off for another go. There was a small sculpture in clay, painted gold, on a little table in front of the sketches and plans.

“That’s adorable,” the blond said.

“Spike…”

“No, I mean it. He’s really captured that girl.”

“You’re dodging the issue.”

“Absolutely, Xan, and you want to know why?”

Spike turned to face the boy, staring into his earnest, dark eyes.

**So much like Drusilla. Dru without the crazy. What would you be, pet, if I turned you? How much like her would you be then?**

“Yes, actually. I think, in fact, that’s all I’ve been asking for about three hundred paintings now.”

“Because I’m evil.”

The word hung between them and Xander Harris grimaced, shaking his head as if he were shaking off sleep, or a punch to the head.

**I love you, damn it. I don’t want to lose you. 143 years you’ve lived, and you’re still the densest man I know--**

“Don’t give me that,” Xander said aloud. “You’re not--”

“You’re partial.”

“Absolutely.”

“Involved party.”

“Dear God, I hope so.”

“So you’re untrustworthy.”

Xander glared; Spike tilted his head up, daring further comment; and for a moment they were as frozen as the girl on her swing. Finally, both men sighed and moved on, leaving the exhibit path. Slowly wending their way through trees in an adjoining park they walked until they were able to cross the street. A few moments of striding in silence brought them to the DeSoto. Tonight Spike had nearly managed to park parallel to the low curb.

They got in without further comment. Spike never locked the car. It was big, it was a boat, and what with the windows being covered in bits of silver leaf and black spray-paint, it wasn’t as if anyone could see out of it to drive well enough to steal it.

“Besides,” Spike had told Xander once, “anyone not exactly human takes one look at my baby, and says, hey, vampire car, and leaves it alone. Only an extremely stupid demon would decide it was a heaven-sent prospect. And the Slayer would find someone that stupid and kill them before they *reached* my car. So I have nothing to worry about.”

There was a moment of silence, long enough to count off three of Xander’s heartbeats, before he turned to the vampire, staring at him.

“So let’s talk about this evil thing.”

“What’s to discuss, pet?”

“You don’t want me hanging around with evil types.”

“Well, no, not as long as they’re *me*…”

“So you don’t want *me* evil?”

“Love…please. Just drop it.”

“Well…why can’t we have Willow curse me? So I keep my soul?”

Spike finally turned, reaching for Xander. One hand grasped his shoulder, holding him in place; the other tilted his chin up. Spike stared into his guileless brown eyes, searching their depths.

**He means it. Bloody hell.**

“Don’t even *think* about that, Xan. I won’t have a man forever that I can’t touch.”

“Couldn’t Willow modify it, or…or something?”

“Might be, pet, but we’re not relying on Red for this. Because it’s not happening.”

“But Angel--”

“Don’t you say ‘fine’,” Spike hissed. His hands dropped away from Xander, clenched into fists. “Don’t you bloody say ‘fine’. The man is *not* fine. That man spent over a hundred years skulking through back alleys eating rats out of guilt and misguided suffering, and I will *not* have you go the same way, fearing the kill and having to kill and hating yourself afterwards.”

“But you don’t--”

“And don’t bloody drag me into this. I bloody well *do*, Xan, and I would in a heartbeat. Don’t you forget it. It’s this bloody chip keeps me in check, and don’t blame me if you’re the only soddin’ human I can stand to be around.”

Xander was silent for a moment, thinking, and Spike clenched inside. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. It wouldn’t be the last, he was thinking. When would this issue end up dividing them completely?

He started up the car and they drove back to Xander’s apartment, parking in the garage and walking to the elevator. Up the three flights to the door they maintained the same silence, the same exchange of pained looks and burdened sighs.

This door, Xander locked. Deadbolt and door key. He’d had them changed after Anya had moved out. Not that a vengeance demon needed to wait for a deadbolt to be opened to get in, but he felt subconsciously safer when the apartment was locked up tight.

Finally, they were inside, and Spike made for the couch, not even pausing in the entryway to stand under the ball of mistletoe pinned to the ceiling. He shrugged off his duster, bending down to untie his boots. Xander sat next to him, waiting until his boots had been kicked off, piled unsteadily under the coffee-table, before he leaned in against Spike’s cool frame.

“Hand me the remote?”

“Which one?”

“The little green one.”

“Oh, *that* one.”

He reached out, one-handed, to grab the little remote from the side table, wrapping the other arm snugly around the boy. He shivered slightly, and Spike held him closer; funny, usually *he* was the one got cold. Being dead and all.

Xander took the remote, sighing, and turned the tree on. He selected a simple pattern, a spiral fluctuation where all the lights slowly warmed from off to brightest light, then spun through tip to tail, each light lighting in sequence, before dimming to nothingness and starting again. He watched for a few minutes, mesmerized by the shifting colors, and then he leaned his head against Spike’s shoulder.

“Do…*something*, then, Captain Peroxide, or I’m going to give up and just go mad now.”

Spike’s lips twitched up at the sound of the old nickname, but he sobered quickly.

“Do what, love? Name it. Short of turning you, which I’ve told you I won’t do, and I really, truly, don’t want to discuss that again.”

“I want to be with you forever, it’s the one thing I’ve ever really wanted, and it’s the one thing you won’t give me. Story of my life, really. First Buffy, then Anya, now you. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“Don’t get used to it. Just stop asking for the impossible.”

“Can’t do that, Spike. It’s in my nature to desire.”

Spike hissed in a rough breath, and Xander felt him tremble. He closed his eyes, leaning against the vampire, sighing.

“All right, then. What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just…I can’t…it’s killing me, I can’t do this anymore--”

And there it was. Spike felt the muscles in his jaw clench, but it couldn’t be helped. Xander was that stubborn. Xander wanted that deeply. It wasn’t fair. But it was part of why he loved the boy.

Shifting position slightly, he pulled the human into his lap, staring into those dark coffee eyes until Xander twitched his nose, shaking hair off his forehead.

“What? What are you staring at now?”

“You, precious. Just you.” And he reached up, tangling his fingers in that dark, lustrous hair, pulling him down for a scorching kiss that left nothing to the imagination. Want and desire and lust and grief and joy and confusion and pain, he tried to express it all and heard the boy start to moan and cry out at the same time. Something must be getting through. Without further preamble, he pulled Xander’s cotton shirt down his shoulders, pulling the T-shirt off once he’d thrown the button-down to the floor.

Bare from the waist up now, Spike teased him forward, leaning back and pulling just with the tips of his fingers at the back of Xander’s neck. Xander slid forward willingly, pressed against him, the only thing separating their skin from touching his shirt. For now, that would just have to do.

He tilted the boy’s head to the side, licking up along the vein that throbbed so temptingly.

“What…what are you…”

“I’ve never bitten you before,” he murmured, against Xander’s pale skin.

“Can you…with the chip? Can you?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t tried anyone who’s willin’, now, have I? Are you, then?”

“What?”

“Willing?”

“*God*, yes. *God*, Spike, what have we been *talking* about all night, *Jesus*--”

“No, no, love--you’ve been talking about me turning you, and I’ve been saying I won’t. This…*this*,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, nearly purring, “is something entirely different.”

He leaned in, switching into game face, relishing the surge of power that always came with the transition. And slowly, delicately, Xander shuddering on him, he sank the tip of one fang into Xander’s flesh.

No pain. No headache. Better, *Xander* started bucking against him, hands pulling at his T-shirt, litany of complaints falling from his full young lips.

“Naked, naked naked naked,” he chanted. “This would be so much better if we were *naked*…”

Spike pulled back, breathing hard, whether he needed to or not.

“Right. Get off, then.”

“Oh, that’s it, bite me and leave me, I’ve heard about your type--”

“You think we’re done? We haven’t even started.”

Xander shivered happily at that, shucking off his jeans and sneaks nearly faster than the vampire could move most days. He slid off his own jeans, making short work of tossing their clothes to the side of the couch, and pulling his Xander onto his lap once more.

The human was vibrating, unable to keep still; especially unable to keep his hips still, thrusting his hard cock against Spike’s, over and over again. The friction was nearly unbearable. He blinked once or twice, trying to clear his head.

“Come here,” he said hoarsely. “Come back.”

”I’m here,” Xander said breathlessly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. Still want this?”

“Yes. Yes, please. *Please*, Spike.”

**Yes. Said yes. Xander said yes. Boy’s hated vampires all his life, loves one now. Said yes. Ain’t life grand…**

He pulled Xander forward, pulled his head to the side, and bit, deeply, feeling the boy arch and inhale, fighting back the scream. All that emerged was a breathy, strangled wail, and Spike didn’t move, just holding him.

After a few moments, he pulled the fangs out halfway, and began to draw. Little bits, little sips, nothing to endanger his love, nothing to threaten his large, conflicting life. Just little bits. Teasing them both. Teasing them. Teasing *him*.

“Oh…oh, *God*, Spike…so *good*…why does it feel so *good*…?”

“Mmm,” he murmured, drifting on the bliss of finally tasting Xander, his Xander, his love. Of *course* he wanted forever with him, was the boy stark? But he was selfish. He wanted Xander as he was *now*, Xander as he *would* be in time. He didn’t want some undead thing walking around wearing Xander’s face, wearing Xander’s memories, but not *being* Xander.

His own undead status notwithstanding.

“God, Spike, you have to--oh, Spike, *please* fuck me--please, *please*--”

And why not? Ardent begging had always worked for him before. He felt the sudden tension in Spike’s limbs, though, as he slowly withdrew, the sweeping silver fire painting along every nerve Xander had going…going…gone.

Damn. He was going to miss that. Was it possible to become addicted to vampires? He thought of Riley Finn and shuddered. Yeah. Okay. So *not* going there, even with Spike.

“Not…just now, pet,” Spike said, moving Xander off his lap with difficulty. “Or haven’t you ever heard of the Rite of Claiming?”

“Right of what now?”

“Claiming,” Spike sighed. “All that research and everything you know just falls right out of your brain.”

“Always has. What’s your point?”

“Rite of Claiming,” Spike said somberly. “Put bluntly, love, I feed from you, I fuck you, and you’re mine. Never have another love, never be *able* to love another, as long as you’ll live. It’ll bind you to me. Forever.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds horrible. So? Why aren’t we running for the bed?”

“Because you have to *understand* what it means, pet. It’s not something to be entered into lightly. You have to be sure. You have to be sure for the rest of your life.”

“We live on the Hellmouth. You’re assuming we both have one.”

“Now, Xander, don’t get flippant about this--”

And they were off again. Arguing. Even in the midst of his exasperation, Spike loved Xander for this. Couldn’t ever take anything at face value, had to fight him for every inch, every concession. Had to fight. *Had* to. Like it was all he’d ever known.

But since their fights usually ended in sex, it wasn’t like he’d ever mind, now or…well, for however long this lasted. Whether Xander ended up claimed or not.

Another tirade was building, and Spike decided, enough was enough for tonight.

“Xander,” he said, cutting off what he’d been saying.

“What now?”

He leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek. “Happy Christmas, love.”

“What? Spike, that’s not for another two--”

The slight burn the words gave him was swept away by the wonderfully perplexed look in his Xander’s eyes, before recognition dawned, and his hands crept to the wound on his neck.

”Oh. Yeah. *Oh* yeah. Merry Christmas, Spike.”

“Just wait; there just might be another present in the works. Once you figure out where you want to be.”

“With you, Spike,” Xander said simply, and curled up against him. “With you.”

The lights played over the human’s flesh, rainbow and shadow shifting and changing, and Spike curled his arm around the boy, smiling.

**With me. Happy Christmas, indeed.**

It wasn’t long before they both fell asleep on the couch, but neither man seemed to mind at all.


END
************
Kelandris
order sex and get shmoop, last time I come to this diner