December 9

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

Author: Patt
Title: They Got Their Man
Date: Your Choice
Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A hard working college student is getting harassed by Detectives.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me and I make no money. <sigh>
Feedback address: PattRose1@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: AU story and it was Previously published in Cascade Visions Zine.
Beta: Mary Browne

They Got Their Man
Patt 

"Hey Blair, can you catch that customer for me?" Bill Center called out. 

"Sure Bill, no problem." Blair headed up to the cash register and rang up the  woman's items.  Once they were done Blair smiled as the customer walked out  the door. 

"Hey Bill, did you remember that I've got final's tomorrow? Then I'm off for the holidays."

"Sure did kid.  I'm covering for you." Bill was as proud of Blair as he was his own  kids.

"Thanks, man." Blair went back to stocking the shelves and the cooler. 

The next day Blair's tests went well.  He knew without being told that he'd  passed and passed with flying colors.  Before long Blair wouldn't have to work at  the convenience store.  He would be a teacher, as he had dreamed of his entire  life. 

That night Blair was lounging on the sofa when the phone rang.  "Hello?"

"Hi Blair.  I got robbed today and want you to know that the cops might ask you  questions." Bill said quickly. 

"Are you all right, Bill?" Blair was only worried about his boss and friend. 

"Yeah, I'm fine.  Just pissed off.  This is the fourth store they've gotten in the  last two weeks. Anyhow, the cops said they wanted to talk to you."

"That's fine.  I'm on at three so I suppose I'll see them then." Blair guessed. 

"See you at three Sandburg." Bill smiled into the phone.  "Sleep well."

"Night, Bill.  Glad you're all right." Blair hung up the phone and wondered why  the cops would want to talk to him.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Blair looked up when the bell rang over the door and knew the two cops were  here to question him. 

He stood straight and looked them in the eye.  "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Sandburg?  I'm Detective Jim Ellison and this is my partner Detective Brian  Rafe.  We'd like to ask you some questions about yesterday's robbery."

"Well that's fine Detective but I wasn't here yesterday." Blair replied. 

"Can you tell us where you were?" Ellison asked. 

"You think I did this?" Blair was shocked. 

"No, we have suspects described and you don't seem to fit.  But they only seem  to rob the store when you're not around.  Is it true that you work at two other  stores?" Ellison asked. 

"Yes, I work at three stores all together, to get the hours that I need.  You mean  they're robbing the other stores too?" Blair inquired. 

"Yes, that's exactly what we mean.  Let me describe them to you and you can  help us if you can. They're called the Salt and Pepper team, meaning light and  darker.  They're both six feet tall.  Do these guys sound familiar?"

"Nope, sorry.  But if something comes to me, I'll let you know." Blair almost  hated seeing Detective Ellison leave.  He was a hottie. 

Jim Ellison pulled out one of his cards and gave it to Blair Sandburg and said,  "Call if you have anything new to add or if you have any questions."

"Bye Detective Rafe.  Nice meeting you too." Blair said smiling. 

Rafe walked over and said, "This is business, kid."

"Oh give me a fucking break.  We're almost the same age." Blair almost shouted. 

Jim came through the door and said, "Problems Rafe?"

"No, this guy just tried to pick me up." Rafe growled. 

"Fuck you.  If I was going to pick anyone up, it would be your partner.  You're so  not my type." Blair growled back at him. 

"Rafe, get in the truck." Jim ordered. 

Once Rafe was out the door he turned to Blair and said, "I'm sorry that he was  being an asshole.  Maybe you and I can go out some time."

"That would be great.  Thanks." Blair smiled at Jim, with that 100-watt smile. 

 Blair waited patiently, but got no phone call from Detective Ellison.  So he  figured, 'what the fuck' and went on a date.  The guy he agreed to go out with  was a jerk.  And as the night went on, he got to be even jerkier than he was at  the beginning.  His name was Michael and Blair was in hell.  He looked across  the crowded bar and saw Jim Ellison sitting there. 

"Hey Michael wanna dance?" Blair asked. 

"Sure, see if you can keep up." Michael led them to the dance floor. 

Jim saw them dancing and he also saw Michael be rough with Blair and Jim  wasn't happy about it one bit.  He walked up and said, "Could I cut in?"

"No, you can't.  He's mine." Michael after all was an idiot. 

"Michael, I don't belong to you.  I belong to no one.  Now let me go." Blair  demanded. 

Michael threw Blair across the dance floor and Blair ended up with his head  smacking into a table.  Jim grabbed Michael and said, "I'm going to ask the  bartender to call the police."  Before long the police were there, questioning Blair  and Michael and then taking Michael away. 

While sitting at the bar Blair looked over at Jim and said, "So how come you  never called me?"

"Because I didn't feel comfortable dating you while I was working on the case."

"But Jim, that was weeks ago. You and I could have done some things over the holidays.  How about now?" Blair asked hopefully. 

"Sorry.  The case is still pending.  We can't get a break." Jim growled.    "Well if I see these guys or hear about them, I'll give you a call.  Talk to you  later." Blair left the bar totally bummed out. 

"Geeze, you go on a date with a loser and then find the date you'd give your left  nut for and he turns you down.  Yup, this is going to be one of those nights.  Maybe I'll be the next one to get robbed and that way I can help Jim solve the  case." // Geeze stop talking to yourself, Sandburg. //

In the next few weeks, the stores were robbed at random, never with Blair there.   One afternoon while Blair was really busy Detective Rafe came in for more  questioning. 

"Sandburg?"

"What?" Blair snapped. 

"We could really use your help.  We're sure it must be someone you know and  that's why they don't rob the stores you're at." Rafe said. 

"And?"

"Well do you think you could think on it and see if you can come up with a few  names?" Rafe growled out. 

"No, I'm not.  Show me a picture or composite and I'll be able to help you.  But  right now I know nothing.  Stop bothering me." Blair walked away from Rafe and  went back to stocking the shelves. 

This kept up for another four weeks and finally Jim and Rafe walked into the  front door and Jim said, "We've got pictures."

"It's about time."

Blair looked at the pictures and said, "This isn't Salt and Pepper.  If you would  have given me a better description two months ago I could have given you their  names then.  Marshall Tyler is an Albino and Thomas Santos is Hispanic.  You  made it sound like white and black."

"Rafe, did you write those names down?" Jim asked. 

"Yeah, but he could have helped us a long time ago.  You knew." Rafe looked  like he wanted to smack Blair. 

"Well of course I knew you idiot.  But I was trying to think of black and white.  I  wasn't thinking of Albino and Hispanic.  There's a big difference. You moron."  Blair was pissed too. 

"Okay, you two, settle down.  This is all working out.  Thank you so much for the  help, Mr. Sandburg." Jim said as he left the store. 

In the next few weeks, Blair got his Doctorate and was given a teaching position  at Rainier.  So he gave his notice and didn't have to worry about working at the  store any longer. 

One afternoon Bill was waiting on his customers and looked at Jim Ellison and  said, "Can I help you?"

"I was looking for Blair Sandburg."

"He doesn't work for the company anymore. Sorry." Bill watched the cops face to  see why he looked so down about this.

"Would you like to know where you can find him, Detective?"

"You remembered me?  Thanks that would be nice.  I owe him a dinner." Jim  looked somewhat hopeful. 

Bill told him where to find Blair and Jim took off to find him. 

Blair was still getting used to the newness of teaching.  While he was nervous,  he was very happy at the same time.  He looked up and standing in his doorway  was Jim Ellison. 

"Detective?"

"Jim."

"No, my name is Blair."

"No, Smartass, I mean call me Jim." Jim couldn't help but laugh. 

"You can call me Dr. Sandburg."

"How about I just call you Chief?" Jim's eyes were so blue, they looked like a pool, that Blair wanted to jump into. 

"Chief would be just fine.  Now can I call you over to my place?" Blair asked  seriously. 

"You not only can, but I promise to treat you like a king.  Or a queen, depending  on whether you want to give it or take it that night." Jim burst out laughing  when he saw the look on Blair's face. 

"I could use a kiss.  We've waited a long time, Jim."

Their first kiss made their hearts beat hard and before long they were  panting. 

"Do you suppose we could leave now?" Jim asked. 

"I was on my way out.  And you're treating me like a king tonight." Blair put his  hand inside Jim's and held on for a few minutes before they left the office.

"I feel like I can trust you enough to tell you about some information about my  senses.  They're heightened and I need help.  At first I thought I was nuts, but  when I'm around you it's better.  Any ideas?" Jim asked hopefully. 

"I have a lot of ideas.  Ever hear of a man named Burton?"

It looked like both of these guys got their man.

And there was always next Christmas!



 End: They Got Their Man

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

Title: When the party's over
Author: Selena
Fandom: THe Sentinel
Pairing: Jim/BLair
Rating: NC 17
Email: kennedy_bowman@yahoo.co.uk
Warnings: Blow jobs
Summery: Blair doesn't want to help with the cleaning up.

When the party’s over

“Alone at last.” Blair purred as he snuggled in close to his Sentinel as they lay sprawled on the sofa.

“Yes we are.” Jim mumbled into Blair’s mass of curls. Blair shifted his head to place a gentle kiss on Jim’s mouth. The kiss became more impassioned as Blair moved his whole body so he was lying completely on top of Jim. Jim leaned into the kiss and deftly slipped his tongue into Blair’s mouth. Suddenly Jim pulled away.

“Hey,” Blair pouted. “It was just getting to the good part.” Blair wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Jim could feel the growing hardness of Blair’s erection against his body.

“Just cool it, Romeo.” Jim said. “There is plenty time for that later. But first we have to clean up this mess.” Reluctantly Jim pushed off his Blair blanket and stood up. He stretched his muscular body and began to pick up paper plates and beer bottles that had been liberally spread around the loft. Blair threw himself back onto the sofa in a mock sulk. Jim just laughed at his lover’s petulant scowl and continued picking up.

“This is the first time that we have been alone all day and you want to clean!” Blair said incredulously. “You suck beyond words, man.”

“Look, Chief. If we get all this crap cleaned up now, we can have all the fun you want later”

“I may not want to do it later.”

“Chief, you always want to do later.”

“Jim Ellison, are you implying that I am some kind of horn dog?”

“No, Sandburg. I am saying that I know how to get you going. Now are you going to help me?”

With a sigh Blair stood up. “If only to expedite the getting to the fun part.” Blair surveyed the mess that was the Loft. “Ugh, as much as I love having our friends and family over for Christmas, they sure do make a mess.”

“They? Sandburg I hate to break it to you, but most of this crap is yours.” Jim said with a smile, ducking quickly as a paper plate came hurtling at his head. “I’ll make you pay for that.” Jim mocked warned as he lunged at his guide. Blair made no attempt to get out of the way and they both ended up in a heap on the couch again. Jim pinned the smaller mad down and began to lightly nibble his neck. The nibbles turned into soft fluttery kisses as Jim started to work his way down Blair’s chest, ripping his shirt away as did he did so. In the back of his head Blair could hear a little voice telling him that this shirt was new, but he was trying really hard to ignore it as Jim started kissing him harder and lower.

“Oh God, Jim!” Blair breathed as Jim started to unbutton Blair’s jeans; roughly he pulled them down, and then yanked down his underwear. Immediately Blair’s erection sprang free. Gently Jim took hold of it and began to massage the shaft. Blair gripped the material of the couch and arched his back as Jim took the head of Blair’s cock into his mouth, lightly flicking his tongue all over it. Painfully slowly, Jim took the rest of Blair’s member into his mouth, then he raised and lowered his head, massaging the shaft with his mouth and tongue. Blair could feel his heart pounding in his head as he neared orgasm. “Jiiiim.” Blair moaned as his hot seed burst from him. Jim smiled as he swallowed every drop of his lovers cum. When he was done he stood up and planted a kiss on Blair’s forehead.

“Now, are you ready to help me with the cleaning?”


FIN

SCIENCE FICTION

Stargate Atlantis - Sheppard/Ford

Author: Jadzia
Title: The First Atlantis Noel
Date: Dec. 9th
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - Sci-Fi
Pairing: Sheppard/Ford
Rating: PG
Summary: even in a galaxy far away from home, Christmas just has to be celebrated.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters belong to MGM and Sci-Fi, not me. No copyright infringement intended.
Feedback address: jadziahp@jadziahp.slashcity.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Titti.

The First Atlantis Noël

Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the gate room. They watched the area with trained eyes, assessing the best strategic position. A bunch of men stood waiting for their orders.

"I think it'll look better over there," Sheppard commented, pointing to the right of the Stargate.

"I agree, sir. It won't be in the way, and there is no fear that it'll get damaged when the wormhole engages." Lieutenant Ford said.

"Exactly. Besides, over there it'll still hold everyone's attention. C'mon people, let's move it."

"Major, what's going on?" Doctor Weir asked, making her way through the small crowd.

"Elizabeth, here you are. So, what do you think?" Sheppard asked, pointing to the huge tree his men were dragging into position.

"A tree? What's a tree doing in the gate room?"

"Hey, that's not just a tree," John protested. "That's a Christmas tree."

"A Christmas tree. And what is it doing in the gate room?"

"You can't have a Christmas party without the tree."

"We're having a party?" Doctor Weir asked, looking at the assembled people. They were watching her with a mix of hopeful and pleading gazes, as if asking for confirmation that the party was indeed going to be held. "Never mind," she dismissed her earlier question. "Tell me why we're having it in the gate room instead."

"Because it's the largest room that is already powered," Sheppard explained.

"McKay would have a fit if we asked to divert power to another section of Atlantis," Ford added helpfully.

"And," Sheppard halted Doctor Weir's protests with a raised finger. "From here we can monitor the whole city, in case anything should happen. *And*, in the off chance the gate is remotely activated, we'd be here, ready to act. No need to have duty personnel relegated in the control room, while the rest of us is partying somewhere else, no waste of power."

Weir sighed. No matter how small the task, the Major and his second in command were too much of a good team. They would work together, cover every possible scenario, and then attack in perfect unison. This was but a small example of their abilities.

Everyone was still looking at her hopefully. At her nod of approval, cheers erupted.

˜ * ˜ * ˜

Major Sheppard leaned on the wall and watched the festivities unfold. Both Athosians and Atlantis personnel were happily relaxing, chatting about the latest news on both fronts and generally having a good time. After months of facing a threat after the other, they all needed something to celebrate. Yes, John thought to himself, deciding to celebrate Christmas had been a good idea.

"Aren't you enjoying yourself, sir?" Lieutenant Ford asked, startling the Major out of his reveries.

"Of course I am. I've got wine, a decent meal, good company and there are no Wraith in sight. I was merely taking a break and admiring the work. The party came out well, don't you think?"

"Yeah, they're all loving it," Ford said, pointing to all the smiling faces around them.

"Thank you, by the way, for helping with this. You did a great job."

"You're welcome, sir," Ford said, smiling at the praise.

"Aiden, it's Christmas, we're out of duty, and enjoying the best party of the galaxy, don't you think you could call me John?"

"How cute," McKay interrupted the exchange. "You are also standing under the mistletoe," he said, pointing to the tiny braches that were hung everywhere. They didn't resemble mistletoe at all, but the illusion was good enough to create some sort of atmosphere. "Does that mean you're going to kiss?"

Both Ford and Sheppard glared at McKay, annoyed at the interruption.

"If you'll excuse us, Major," McKay said, ignoring the glares. He grabbed Ford's arm and dragged him away, under the Major's puzzled gaze. "It's ready," he whispered to the Lieutenant once they were out of hearing range.

Ford nodded and sprinted out of the room, his annoyance at McKay forgotten. He returned scant moments later, wheeling one of Atlantis huge monitors into the room.

"May I have your attention please?" Doctor McKay called, joining Lieutenant Ford at the center of the room.

As the crowd quieted down and gathered around them, Sheppard approached doctor Weir. "Do you have any idea what's this all about?" he asked suspicious.

"You'll just have to wait and find out, Major," she said in a hushed voice, pointing to where the Lieutenant had started to speak.

"First of all, I'd like to wish you all a Merry Christmas. As you know, it was Major Sheppard who insisted we took a little break from our daily activities, and celebrate. And it was him who went to the trouble of finding the tree and some sort of decorations. Now, part of the Christmas fun, is gifts," he continued, nodding to McKay, who went and fiddled with the display Ford had just brought into the room. "So, Major, this is for you. Merry Christmas," he finished.

The screen came to life with both images and sounds. On it, mixed teams of civilian and military personnel, both male and female, were engaged in what had to be the first football match of the Pegasus Galaxy, while a disembodied voice did the commentary.

John stared at the screen, walking toward it enthralled. "This is- How?"

"We played in a clearing on the land, and recorded it using one of the Ancient devices on the Puddle Jumper, you know, the recording thingy," Aiden explained.

McKay rolled his eyes at the explanation. "They are not-" he was stopped by Ford's glare. "Recording.. thingies" he finished in a small voice.

"When did you do it?"

"Yesterday, while you and Teyla were on that recon mission."

They all watched in silence as the Major stared awed at the screen. "This is amazing. Thank you, thank you all," he said, taking his eyes off the screen long enough to thank his colleagues.

"Actually, we merely joined in the fun," Doctor Beckett explained. "It was Lieutenant Ford's idea, he did all the work- well, almost all the work," he amended at McKay's protests.

"You did this?" John asked, fixing his gaze on the Lieutenant.

Ford nodded proudly, smiling at how touched Sheppard obviously was. "Well, I organized the game and checked the recording. It was McKay who transferred it into this," he said, pulling a small disk from the base of the monitor. The screen went immediately blank. "You just have to insert it into any monitor on the base, and it will work," he finished, handing the disk to Sheppard.

Eyeing the disk, Sheppard frowned. "Why didn't you tell me you could do this? You could have transferred the game I brought from earth into this thing," he asked to McKay.

The doctor rolled his eyes at the question. "Do you have any idea of how long it took to figure out a way to transfer the Puddle Jumper recording? I thought we wouldn't be able to do it on time. Which, actually, we didn't, seeing as it's way past midnight and Christmas is technically over."

"Which reminds me, some of us have to make an early start in the morning," doctor Weir interjected, trying to prevent the usual bickering between the two men. "I think I'll head to bed. Thank you again, Major, for insisting we celebrate."

Taking their cue from the doctor, people started to leave.

"Oh, c'mon guys. We need to watch this. Properly, with drinks and snacks."

"Sorry, Major, but I have a lot of physicals scheduled for tomorrow," Doctor Beckett said, looking pointedly at McKay.

"Which means that, if I have to waste my time letting Beckett play doctor with me, I'll need to make an early start with my work, too."

"That leaves just the two of us, sir," Ford said. "If you're still up to it, that is," he rushed to add.

"If I'm up to it? C'mon, let's grab some snacks."

˜ * ˜ * ˜

"Is that McKay?" Sheppard asked, laughing out loud as the doctor fell on his ass.

"Yes," Ford replied, trying to catch his breath. "He didn't want to play, but when I told him Zelenka was playing, he marched straight to the field."

The two men watched the game in Sheppard's quarters, commenting on everyone's performance and laughing at their colleagues' antics.

"This is the most pathetic game I've ever seen," Sheppard said, shaking his head.

"Oh." Ford turned suddenly somber.

"But I still love it," John amended, fixing his gaze on Aiden. He watched enthralled as the Lieutenant smiled at his words. "This is the perfect gift, how did you know?"

"I remembered something you said a while ago. You said you wished for the sports channel, to have some new match to watch."

John frowned, trying to place that memory. When he remembered, he looked surprised at Ford. "You remembered something I said months ago? I thought no one heard me, it was more of a comment to myself, and we were dead tired, after a very rough mission."

Aiden nodded. "You looked like you could really use a good game."

"I did. It was only the last in a series of very fucked up missions. I thought you wouldn't make it," Sheppard said, his expression showing how much that mission still disturbed him.

"We all almost died."

"True, but-" the Major raked his fingers through his hair, starting to pace as if the act could help clear his thoughts. "Aiden, tell me why you did this for me," he said, pointing to the screen where the game was still playing. "I mean, I know this gift is from everyone, but the way I understand it, the others simply went along with your plan. It was you who wanted this, why?"

Aiden looked unsure for a moment, but then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I wanted to make you happy," he said, looking straight into his commanding officer's eyes. "I-" He fought for the right words, but when none was coming, he decided actions would be a better explanation. He hurriedly covered the few paces that separated him from John, and captured the Major's lips in a clumsy kiss.

It wasn't much as a first kiss, too nervous, too afraid of rejection. But when he felt John respond to the kiss he calmed enough to savor this opportunity. Their arms went around each other, holding tight as they took their time exploring each other's mouths.

When they finally separated, dazed, panting for breath, they looked at each other in a comfortable silence for a while, each of them trying to sort through their thoughts.

"That mission," John said, cupping Aiden's cheek, and caressing the Lieutenant's jaw with his thumb. "All I could think of after it was over, was that I would have left you there. No matter how much it pained me, how much I wanted to run back and drag you out of that Wraith ship, at the risk of my life, I couldn't risk the lives of my team. That was the hardest part, knowing that despite my feelings, I *had* to do my job." John paused, trying to control his emotions. "I can't begin to describe how happy I was to see you run out of there, how proud you made me."

"I… I never knew. I never suspected. I hoped, yes, but honestly, what are the chances of your commanding officer being gay, and being interested in you?"

"What are the chances of embarking on a journey to another galaxy, waking a race of life-sucking monsters from their stasis, and live to recount it?" Sheppard asked, amused.

"Good point, John," Ford said, stealing a kiss.

"Ah, so you do remember my name," the Major joked.

"Believe me, I remember it very well."

Sheppard raised a questioning eyebrow at the enigmatic reply, but forgot all about it as Ford leaned in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Aiden," Sheppard said, as they paused for breath.

"Merry Christmas, John."

"Oh, and, Aiden," John said, in between kisses. "You did make me happy."

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Star Trek TOS - Kirk/Spock

Author: Jesmihr
Title: Evergreen
Date: December 9, 2004
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: K/S
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kirk and Spock spend Christmas in the woods of Pennsylvania
Disclaimer: The characters and the Star Trek series are the property of Paramount-Viacom. This is an amateur work of fan fiction written solely for pleasure, and not for profit.
Feedback address: theargentian@mfire.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Deadlines and chronic procrastination are not a good mix: All mistakes are my own.


Evergreen

“It was not supposed to do this.”

Jim dropped his duffle bag onto one of the beds and walked over to stand beside the Vulcan. They both stared silently out of the window for a moment before Kirk finally replied. “No?”

“No.” Spock turned toward his captain, one eyebrow slightly elevated. “I checked the weather report only six point three hours ago. Snow was not expected.” He contemplated the blowing and rapidly accumulating white flakes with ill concealed distaste. “I am certain of it.”

“Hmm.” Jim glanced out the window again and then shrugged and turned to his friend. “Well, we are in the hills of northern Pennsylvania, and it is Christmas Eve. So in spite of what the meteorologists have to say, I can’t claim that I’m all that surprised myself.” He smiled faintly. “And anyway, it’s good for us.”

Spock’s eyebrow inched up. “Good for us?”

“Having our best predictions blow up in our faces occasionally.”

“Indeed?” Spock obviously was not convinced. “And how is that, if I may ask, good for us?”

“It keeps us honest. It reminds us that we don’t have as much control over things as we think we do.” Jim turned and walked across his room to his bag and began to pull his clothes out and arrange them tidily on the bed.

Spock turned from the window to study his captain. Kirk had an unsettling way of uttering illogical pronouncements with so much conviction that it was impossible to dismiss them out of hand. And yet, Spock could not for the life of him see how a lack of control ever could be of any benefit, for any reason. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied the scene outside. “It appears to be a rather severe storm,” he ventured, as a gust of wind shook the window panes. “Perhaps it would be prudent to return to the Enterprise before it worsens.”

Jim dropped his sweater in a heap on the bed and swung around to face the Vulcan, aghast. “Return to the Enterprise? After all the trouble I had getting this place? After all the trouble we both had getting the time off to begin with? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Something in Jim’s voice made Spock bite back the obvious reply: that Vulcans never kid. Instead, he regarded the human gravely, noting the signs of stress that were apparent on Kirk’s expressive face. He needs to rest, Spock thought to himself with a surge of protectiveness. He has not yet recovered from Arrakis. Out loud, he said, “You have more experience with Earth weather than I. If you think that it is safe…”

Kirk scowled and picked up his sweater again, this time neatly folding it before he placed it on the bed. “We’ll be fine. It used to snow in Iowa all the time. It didn’t usually get this deep,” he admitted, glancing over his shoulder at the Vulcan, “but the wind was much worse. We’re sheltered by the woods and the hills here.”

“That is most fortunate,” Spock said dryly as another merciless gust howled away outside.

“I think,” Kirk said slowly, looking around the cabin, “that this place is perfect, no matter what the weather decides to do. If it’s terrible out, we’ll just stay inside and relax. We can talk or read books, or just… hang out.”

Spock surveyed their accommodations impassively, noting the spare but adequate furnishings. The room held two single beds, an assortment of threadbare but comfortable looking chairs, and a crudely built pine table with a couple of benches. There was also a bookcase that was positively straining with books; apparently Jim’s friend Mullan, the one who owned the cabin, was a bibliophile like Jim. But it was the antique woodstove in the kitchen area and the large fireplace – the centerpiece of the room – that held Spock’s attention at the moment. He attempted to suppress a shiver: the cabin was far too cold for his comfort.

Kirk saw his friend tremble and frowned. “We’d better get this place warmed up,” he told Spock. He gestured toward the woodstove. “Believe it or not, I know how to work that thing. Can you start a fire in the fireplace?”

Spock walked over to the fireplace and studied it carefully before he replied. There was a simple damper system; apparently, one had only to pull on the iron bar that was located just below the hole of the chimney to open it. Beside the fireplace was a copper bucket crammed with kindling. An old wooden box near the hearth held crumpled paper, dry wood chips and old-fashioned matches. “Yes,” he finally said, after his inventory.

“Good.” Kirk opened a small door beneath the round belly of the woodstove and then stood up to adjust the flue. “You open everything up when you’re first getting the fire started,” he murmured, half to himself, “and then shut it down once it’s underway. We have one a lot like this back home in Iowa – my mom claims she can heat a three county area with it.”

Spock listened to Kirk as he assembled his own fire. He placed the dry kindling carefully upon a base of paper and wood shavings, then selected a few larger logs and laid them on top, being careful to leave space between the wood so that air and flame could get through.

Kirk quickly had the woodstove roaring; he damped it down expertly and proceeded to roam about the cabin as Spock continued to stoke the fire in the fireplace. Spock listened to his captain’s restless footsteps behind him, wishing that there was something he could do to ease the human’s disquiet. He hoped that this trip would do for Jim what a week’s time had not: ease the memories of Arrakis.

“You know,” Kirk said slowly, “to really get into the experience of this thing, we probably ought to fix our dinner on top of this woodstove.”

Spock turned and looked at the woodstove dubiously and then rose gracefully to his feet. “A rather daunting task, I should think.”

Kirk sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I think, too. Let’s just use a phaser and make it quick and easy. I don’t think I’ve got the energy to be a pioneer tonight.”

***

By the time they were finished preparing and eating their dinner, the impenetrable darkness of midwinter had settled in about the little cabin. Outside, the storm raged unabated, rattling the doors and windows and moaning morosely all around. Spock sat beside his captain in front of the fireplace and tried to ignore the sound of the snow sifting like sand against the shuddering window glass.

Jim, on the other hand, seemed to be completely unaware of the storm: he stared into the fire with focused concentration, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to work out some sort of particularly challenging problem.

In the flickering firelight, Spock studied the human surreptitiously, his brow creased in concern. He had some idea of what was bothering Jim; it was how to address it that was causing him difficulty. He had spent the better part of a week trying to determine whether he should question his captain about Arrakis, or if he should remain silent. He still had not reached a decision, although he had devoted an inordinate amount of time in the attempt.

For now, he concluded, he would take the safe route and steer the conversation toward another topic.

“It is unfortunate,” he ventured, “that your mother had plans to travel to Taygetta over the holidays. It must be some years since you have been able to be on Earth at Christmastime.”

Jim did not look away from the fire. “Yes,” he finally said. It’s been six years at least – maybe more. But my aunt was really excited that Mom was coming, and I know they’ll have a great time together.” He turned to Spock. “When I found out she’d planned the trip, I didn’t even tell her that we’d be on Earth. I knew that she’d feel like she had to cancel, and that she’d insist we come to Iowa instead of here.” He shrugged and turned back to the fire. “To tell you the truth, I’d rather be here. It wouldn’t be the same anyway, with Sam on Deneva. And Christmas in Iowa was always such a big, noisy production… I’m not in the mood for any of it this time around, I guess.”

Silence fell for some time, a silence broken only by the roaring of the winter wind and the crackling of the fire.

Spock was the first to speak. “Tell me about Iowa,” he said.

Kirk did not take his eyes from the fire. “Iowa,” he repeated slowly. “You already know about Iowa – I’ve told you pretty much everything there is to tell.” He shrugged dismissively. “I grew up on a farm on the plains, helped plant and harvest corn, take care of the animals… then left for the Academy, just as soon as I could.”

“You were anxious to leave?”

Kirk selected a long piece of kindling from the bucket. He leaned forward and poked absently at the fire with it, causing a cascade of embers to fall from the grate to the brick below. “I suppose that just about everyone loves their home. But I knew I didn’t belong there – not really.” He glanced quickly at Spock, and then turned his attention again to the fire. “Yes, I was anxious to leave. Anxious to find the place where I belonged.”

The Enterprise,” Spock said.

Kirk nodded. “Of course, back then, I didn’t know about the Enterprise. I was thinking about space, being out there, exploring…” He stared into the flames. “I knew that was where I was meant to be.”

The Vulcan considered the human silently. Spock always wanted to know everything about everything, but most of all about Kirk. Though he suspected that his urge to understand this man was not based even remotely upon logic, still he could not help himself from indulging his curiosity, now that he and Kirk were alone. “Your rural upbringing,” he finally hypothesized, “must have seemed confining to you. Is that what led you to venture into space?”

Kirk pursed his lips thoughtfully. “No,” he said at last. “In fact, I think it was quite the opposite.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I think it was the freedom I knew as a child that made me crave the… the expanse of space.”

“The freedom?”

Kirk smiled. “I don’t think people who haven’t grown up on a farm understand what the life is like. There’s a lot of hard physical labor, of course. But it isn’t really a confining life, or at least it doesn’t have to be. I had land all around me, and I had a horse.” He turned his face from the fire to look at Spock. “From a very young age, I was allowed to launch off on my own… spend the day, if I wanted to, riding for miles.” He hesitated, and then said, “I guess in that sense, I’ve always been an explorer. I just traded the horse and the land for the Enterprise and space.”

“I have never ridden a horse,” Spock confessed.

Kirk closed his eyes at the memory. “Well, you’ve missed something, then. If it’s the right horse, and the right rider, it’s… well, it’s an incredible experience.”

“You had the right horse?”

“God, yes.” The nostalgia that tinged Kirk’s voice was palpable, even to an emotionless Vulcan. “A little Arabian mare named Firefly.” He prodded at the fire again, his thoughts far away. “She was smaller than most of our other horses, but she could outrun every last one of them. I can still see her, galloping full tilt with her tail streaming out behind her like some kind of a victory banner.”

Spock watched Kirk’s eyes flicker in the firelight. He knew with certainty that Jim was seeing not the flames of the present, but the horse of long ago. Intrigued, he waited, in hopes that the human would continue speaking.

“I used to ride her sometimes without a bridle or a saddle. It seemed like I only had to think about where I wanted to go, and she knew. I’d just wrap my fingers in her mane and let her run – let her fly across the fields and leave the others in the dust.”

“The speed must have been exhilarating.”

“It was. But it was more than that.” Kirk hesitated and then bit his lip, suddenly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might surprise you,” Spock said quietly.

Kirk glanced at the Vulcan inquiringly and then gave him the ghost of a smile. “You might at that,” he admitted. “In fact, you do that quite consistently.” He turned back to the fire. “All right, I’ll tell you – even though it is illogical. What it was that was so wonderful about riding that particular horse wasn’t the speed. It was the connection.”

“The connection?”

Kirk nodded. “Riding a horse bareback is not an easy thing – there’s nothing much to hold onto. Even the most skillful rider is likely to fall if the horse shies or tries to unseat him.”

“It must have been dangerous, then, to ride bareback at such a high rate of speed.”

Kirk shook his head. “Not in the least.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose slightly.

“I knew she wouldn’t shy, and wouldn’t try to unseat me,” Kirk explained patiently. “I wasn’t taking any risk at all when I rode her like that.” He shut his eyes again, conjuring the memory. “I can never explain it, what that felt like. It was speed, and power, and trust, and best of all, it was…” He thought for a moment, searching. “The only word I can come up with is ‘communion.’” His smile was wistful and unusually tentative, when he looked again at the Vulcan. “Communion. That’s what it was: two completely different creatures, bound together by the spirit. It felt… beautiful.”

Spock found that he could not speak any more than he could take his eyes from Kirk’s face. He waited, with his heart pounding too fast in his side, until Kirk spoke again. “Do you understand?” the human finally asked him.

“Yes,” Spock said, very quietly, and dropped his gaze.

Neither of them spoke again for some time. Spock finally got up and walked over to the window; gazed out onto an alien world full of swirling snow and blue shadows and silver light. Looking up, he saw that the moon was high in the night sky, but its glow was nearly obscured by the storm. All that was left of it was a smudge, a white thumbprint against a starless backdrop. Its shape constantly shifting with the vagaries of the atmosphere, it appeared bizarre to Spock, who still was accustomed to the clear, dry climate of Vulcan. This is the world of Jim and of my mother, he thought, and had to suppress a wave of loneliness at the knowledge that he did not belong here, any more than Jim had belonged in Iowa. He shivered, only in part because of the frigid air that seeped though the window.

“I think,” Jim said slowly behind him, “that we should both sleep here in front of the fire. It’ll be warmer.”

Spock glanced briefly at the beds; they both looked cold, too distant from the fireplace’s blaze. “Logical,” he told his captain.

Kirk nodded; his face expressionless. “Good. What do you say we lay out our bedrolls and turn in, then? It’s been a long day.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. He did not fully admit to himself his relief at not having to leave the comfort of the fire, or of Jim’s side.

***

Two point six hours later, Spock was awakened. He blinked in the orange-tinged darkness for an instant before ultimately realizing that he was on the floor of the cabin and not in his bed on the Enterprise. Just as quickly, he comprehended what had roused him from his slumber: Jim lay beside him, sobbing as if his heart were broken.

Rising up on one elbow, the Vulcan regarded the human with alarm: Kirk’s eyes were shut tightly, but his cheeks were wet with tears. “No,” he whispered, over and over again. “Please no.”

Spock reached out and clasped Kirk by the shoulder. “Jim, wake up.”

“Why didn’t I tell you?” Kirk whispered. “Why? Why? Why?”

This time Spock shook his captain gently. “Jim,” he called, more insistently.

Jim’s eyes snapped open and gazed directly into Spock’s.

“You were dreaming,” Spock said softly, suppressing his own distress at the grief he saw on his captain’s face and at the tears that wet his lashes.

It took the human a confused moment to process what Spock had told him, but when he did, his relief was tangible. Taking a shuddering breath, he reached out slowly and grasped Spock’s arm as if he needed physical proof of the Vulcan’s presence. “Thank god,” he said, shutting his eyes against the memory of the nightmare.

“What was it?”

It took Kirk so long to answer that Spock nearly asked him again. Finally, Kirk said, “I was on Arrakis, wandering through empty streets. It was exactly… exactly like it was that day, only there were no corpses.”

“Yes,” Spock said encouragingly, when Jim hesitated.

“You were down there, too, but I’d lost sight of you. The longer I walked, and the more emptiness I saw, the more I felt poison in the air.” He shivered again. “Death – that’s what it was. Certain death, if we didn’t get out of there. I can’t tell you how I knew that, but I did.”

“What happened next?” Spock prompted, when Kirk fell silent.

Kirk looked at him, and Spock was startled to see that his captain’s eyes were filling with tears once more. “I started to run through the streets, calling your name into the communicator. You didn’t answer. I was desperate to find you, to get you out of there - but I couldn’t find you, and you didn’t answer. I… I finally ran so far I left the city. I found myself on a path, and then in a garden.” He covered his eyes with his hands. “It was so real – I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“What was it?”

Jim sat up and wrapped his arms around himself as if to shield himself from the memory. “It was you,” he said softly. “You were lying in the garden - dead. You had your communicator in your hand, but it wasn’t open. I knew then… you’d heard me call, but you hadn’t been able to answer me.”

Spock sat up and ever so gently touched Kirk’s shoulder; mindful somehow that the human needed reassurance of his continued existence. “It was merely a dream… a nightmare,” he reminded Kirk. “Not real.”

Kirk laid his hand on Spock’s and finally sighed in relief. “Yeah,” he said at last, sagging back into his bedroll. “Not real. I’m… sorry I woke you up.”

“No apology is necessary,” Spock assured him, settling into his own sleeping bag.

Kirk did not speak for so long that the Vulcan nearly became convinced that his captain had gone back to sleep. He was almost drowsing himself when a soft voice beside him disproved this theory.

“Spock?”

“Yes?”

“I… know you don’t like to be touched, but… is it O.K. if I put my hand on your arm until I get back to sleep? It may not be logical, but…”

“Your touch will not disturb me in the least,” Spock told him, lying quite outrageously.

Indeed, as Kirk fell at last to sleep, Spock was aware no longer of the hiss of the dying fire or of the howling of the wind. His world had been reduced to a human hand upon his arm, and to this thought: He wept for me.

***

A sharp, clean and vaguely familiar scent filled Spock’s nostrils as he gradually came back to awareness the following morning. He lay still for a moment without opening his eyes while he attempted to identify it. Picea abies – Norway Spruce, he finally decided, and sat up, looking around him to locate its source.

Sure enough, Jim was standing on one of the benches, apparently in the final stages of fastening a spruce bough over one of the cabin doors.

“Merry Christmas,” Jim told him as he clambered down from the bench.

“And the same to you,” Spock replied politely, surveying Jim’s handiwork. “I assume this adornment is in honor of the occasion?”

Jim nodded and put the bench back by the table. “It doesn’t seem much like Christmas to me, somehow, and I thought a little evergreen might help. I didn’t dare cut down one of Mullan’s trees, but I didn’t think he’d mind if I just filched one branch.”

Spock rose to his feet and regarded the spruce swag thoughtfully. “The scent is quite pleasant,” he admitted, “but I must confess I have never understood the connection between various kinds of coniferous woody perennials and Terran winter holiday festivities.”

Kirk shrugged. “If you mean ‘What does evergreen have to do with Christmas?’ it’s a cultural thing. And it actually goes back to before Christianity – to the druids, I think. They saw the evergreen as a symbol of the promise of spring after the hardship of winter.”

“And the Christians adopted it as a sign of eternal life?”

“Yes. There are lots of traditions, symbols and stories surrounding evergreen trees – like the triangular shape having to do with the holy trinity, for instance. And I remember my mother telling this legend about the Christ child and a pine tree.”

“Indeed? What was it?”

Kirk began to set the table for breakfast. “Well, supposedly, when Joseph, Mary and Jesus were fleeing Herod’s soldiers, Mary became too weary to travel any more. An ancient pine that had grown hollow with the years invited them to stop and rest within its cavity. When the soldiers came near, it closed its branches down and kept the three of them safely hidden until the danger had passed.”

“A most… human story,” Spock commented. “Highly fanciful.”

Kirk looked out of the window onto the frozen landscape. “True,” he agreed. “I liked to hear it as a kid, but now that I know how brutal and dangerous the universe can be… Well, it’s a bit of a stretch to think that even Christ could expect mercy from nature.”

Spock’s eyebrow shot up in astonishment, the bitter observation was so unlike anything he would have anticipated Kirk would say. He opened his mouth to formulate a reply, but Jim forestalled him.

“Have you ever used snowshoes?”

Spock blinked at the sudden change in subject. “No,” he answered. “There is a rather limited call for them on Vulcan.”

Jim’s mouth quirked, but it fell short of a smile. “Vulcan smartass. I asked because there are two pairs of them in the woodshed – I used one set when I went out to cut that branch. The snow’s so deep out there I would have been up to my knees otherwise. I was thinking that after breakfast, we could put them on and go out for a little hike.” Seeing Spock’s look of skepticism, he added, “They’re not as hard to use as you think.”

Spock considered illustrations of snowshoes he had seen in the past, recalling their odd badminton-racquet-like shape, elaborate weaving, and complicated appearing system of thongs and bindings. “That is most reassuring,” he told his captain solemnly.

***

Spock strode a few meters behind Kirk, careful to keep his stance a bit wider than normal in order to accommodate the broad span of his footgear. To his surprise, he had discovered that his captain’s sanguine assessment of the snowshoes’ ease of use had been correct: after a few instances of stepping on the long heel of the lead shoe, he had quickly grasped the technique required and soon found himself trudging along the surface of the deep, virgin snow with a confidence bordering on expertise.

Pausing to look up into the sapphire sky, he reflected that it was almost as if the two of them had been transported to an entirely different planet. It seemed utterly incredible that the night before, this landscape had been ravaged by raging winds and blowing snow: everything surrounding them was so peaceful this Christmas morning that the silence seemed almost unnatural.

He gazed around him, squinting against the blinding, omnipresent whiteness of the world. The rolling Pennsylvania hills lay under a glittering, diamond-strewn blanket, a blanket that softened every hollow and curve until it was impossible to make out the true contours of the environment. All trees – from the loftiest to the lowliest – were bowed under the weight of their heavy winter burden; some of the smallest shrubs were bent over so far that their tops arched down into the drifts beneath them. Will they straighten again when the snow melts? Spock mused to himself. Or will their shape be forever changed by the storm? Involuntarily, he looked up ahead to Jim.

As if sensing Spock’s eyes upon him, the human turned around. “You doing O.K.?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I didn’t think you’d have any trouble once you got used to them.” Jim gestured toward a dark row of trees a few hundred meters to the left. “Let’s head toward that forest – I’ve got a feeling the snow won’t be quite as deep there.”

Spock nodded his assent and followed silently behind his captain, navigating carefully down every slope and around every snow-disguised obstacle. A startling flash of red distracted him momentarily; its presence was so dramatic in the relentless sea of glittery white and cool blue shadows. Following it with his eyes, he determined it was a bird, specifically a male cardinal. He watched it flit, exposed and brilliant, from bare branch to bare branch until it disappeared at last into the dense sanctuary of a waiting spruce. Mercy from nature, Spock thought, as he saw how perfectly the little bird was hidden among the down swept limbs. Perhaps, he considered, the legend of the pine tree was not as ill founded as he had first believed. He had the illogical whim to tell that to Jim, to point out to the human that they had perhaps both been wrong, but his captain had forged on ahead without seeing the cardinal and was rapidly increasing the distance between them. And after all, it proves nothing, Spock thought to himself self deprecatingly. Other than that you have spent too much time among the humans, and that you are in danger of becoming shamefully fanciful yourself. He hastened on to catch up with Jim.

They reached the woods at last and quickly realized that just past the tree line the ground plummeted away into a fairly steep ravine. Stepping a little into the sudden dimness of the tree-shrouded interior, Kirk peered down it speculatively.

“Hmm,” he finally said. “It’ll be a little bit of a workout to get down there, but I think we can manage it, if we take it slow.”

Spock’s mouth curved in an infinitesimal smile. He had been on enough hikes with Jim to have had experience with the human’s unswerving proclivity to find the most challenging path and to pursue it with single minded determination. He had known, therefore, that the ravine would have an irresistible appeal.

“Indeed,” he agreed, but his tone was absent-minded: his attention had been called by the sight of a pine tree that jutted up just past the edge of the embankment and soared up into the sky. Studying it, he saw that it was much taller than those around it. At least twenty-five meters tall - perhaps more, he thought to himself. Scanning its trunk, he determined that its diameter must be in excess of ninety centimeters. It would have to be relatively old to have reached such a size in this environment, he thought.

Dimly, he heard the snapping of twigs a little distance away from him and knew that it was Jim trying to figure out the best starting point for their descent. He studied the closest limb of the tree, noting that its needles were much longer and softer looking than those of the spruce bough Jim had cut earlier that morning. Frowning, he ran through the list of types of Earth conifers that would be indigenous to this area. None seemed to quite fit the description of this particular tree. A specimen would be required, he decided, in order to identify it with any degree of certainty.

“Over here, Spock – it’s not quite as steep.”

“One moment, sir.” Cautiously, Spock leaned out over the gully and reached toward the closest cluster of needles. They were very nearly out of reach, but he calculated that if he moved just a few more centimeters forward, he should be able to get hold of the very end of the cluster and draw it toward him so he could twist it off from the tree. He stretched his arm out further, took a step, and managed to grasp one small bundle of needles in his gloved hand.

Unfortunately, that was the exact moment that his right snowshoe decided to clamp firmly down upon the edge of his left snowshoe, throwing the lanky Vulcan off balance just as his hand closed down around the supple branch. He felt himself start to lurch forward and tightened his grip instinctively, but his weight was too much for the spindly branch to bear and it snapped off in his hand. With a muffled sound of surprise, Spock tumbled off over the edge of the ravine, clutching the bunch of pine needles tightly as if could somehow halt his descent.

For an indeterminate span of time, Spock’s world was a jumbled mass of white and green and cracking branches. He heard Jim shout his name from up above, felt the sharp lash of a sapling against his left cheek, and saw one of his snowshoes tumble down the bank before him. He could do nothing, he realized, to stop his precipitous descent. Sliding, rolling and bouncing, he finally crashed down at the base of the gully, long arms and legs splayed.

“Spock!”

The Vulcan lay motionless for a moment in an attempt to regain his breath and to assess the damage. To his surprise, he found he was unhurt, other than a slight throbbing at his right wrist that turned out to be caused by a glob of snow that had worked its way between his sleeve and glove cuff at some point during his fall.

“Spock! My god!” This time the voice was accompanied by a tremendous crashing sound; Spock turned his head and saw Jim hurtling down the bank at breakneck speed, snowshoes skidding, arms flailing, apparently with no regard for his own safety. Spock had no time to reassure the human before Jim was beside him, bending over him, face nearly as pale as the winter snow.

“Jesus Christ,” Jim said, his voice shaky. “Jesus-Christ-Jesus-Christ-Jesus-Christ.”

“I am unhurt,” Spock finally managed to inform him, and struggled to sit up.

Jim fell to his knees on the ground beside Spock. “Don’t try to move,” he ordered. “Let me check you over first.”

“Jim, please believe me. I’m fine.” In spite of Jim’s remonstrance, Spock sat up and continued, “The deep snow and my various layers of clothing cushioned my fall. I am not injured in the least.” He studied his captain’s pale countenance for a second and added, “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Alarmed me!” Jim exhaled loudly. “I was sure that you’d been killed. What the hell happened, anyway? One minute you were there, and the next…”

Rather sheepishly, Spock held out the cluster of needles. “I wished to obtain this specimen,” he told the human meekly, “in order to identify its type and to study its structure. In an attempt to procure, it, however, I -”

Jim gaped at the bunch of needles in disbelief that quickly turned to fury. “You decided,” he said slowly, “to launch yourself into midair to get it? What the –“

“It was difficult to reach, but I calculated that I could do it safely. Unfortunately, my –”

“Well, you obviously calculated wrong.” Jim’s eyes snapped with anger. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me just now? How I thought that you…” He stopped short and shook his head. “Forget it. Just forget it. Take your stupid specimen and let’s get the hell out of here.” He scrambled to his feet and started to brush himself off, still glaring, his hands shaking.

Spock got up as well and attempted to remove as much snow as possible from his coat and pants, all the while surreptitiously studying Kirk. He was utterly baffled by the human’s reaction to his fall; he had clearly heard utter panic in Jim’s voice. In the seven point eight months that he had served with Kirk, he could not recall a time when he had seen the human be swept away by terror the way he had been today – even at times when the life of every crewmember had been at stake.

A half-formed theory began to grow within Spock’s brain, a theory so nebulous that it felt suspiciously like gut instinct. On a wild impulse he decided to act upon it, rather than to ignore it, as any logical Vulcan should do. Reaching out tentatively to touch Kirk on the shoulder, he said, “Jim. What happened on Arrakis?”

His captain flinched as if he’d been struck. “You know goddamn well what happened,” he muttered. “Plague. Plague so horrendous there were no survivors.” He jerked away from the Vulcan and turned his back.

“Both distressing and unfortunate. But… you have seen the aftermath of disaster before. You’ve witnessed plague, famine, war… and yet –” Spock stopped and swallowed nervously; he was unaccustomed to acting on hunches, and he was all too aware that he was in unfamiliar territory. “And yet,” he continued determinedly, “you have not reacted in this manner.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jim grated without turning around.

“I am talking about a kind of bitterness that I have noted in you this past week that is most contrary to your nature. I am talking about panic – and about your nightmare last night,” Spock said. “I think something occurred on Arrakis that you have not told me.”

Slowly, Kirk turned and faced the Vulcan. In the shadow of the tree-shrouded ravine, his eyes appeared very dark; Spock caught his breath at the pain he saw in them and waited with some apprehension for the human to speak.

“You want to know about Arrakis,” Jim finally said slowly. He took a shuddering breath. “O.K., I’ll tell you, then. Arrakis was the quietest place I’ve ever been. There were no voices and no traffic and no sound at all but our footsteps. It wasn’t a peaceful quiet: it was a dead quiet, a toxic quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck and made your heart beat fast as if you’d just been chased. You walked into any store and had to go around or step over half a dozen corpses – all of them just fallen wherever the person happened to be when the plague hit them. On the street – more bodies. In the school…” He stopped and looked away. “I guess I can’t tell you about the school yet.” He looked back at Spock, his expression fierce with grief. “The entire population, Spock - all just dropped in their tracks by that… thing.”

“Raverman’s Syndrome is the most lethal and fast-spreading disease yet discovered in the galaxy,” Spock told him. “There is generally very little warning of impending death, once a person becomes infected.”

“There was no warning,” Kirk said flatly. “These people were just going about leading their happy or unhappy lives… and they just fell. Just fell wherever they were standing at the time.”

“Yes,” said Spock encouragingly when Kirk stopped. He was certain there was more.

“It became apparent we weren’t going to find anyone alive,” Kirk finally went on. “I told the landing party to separate and try to do a body count – and then to report back to me at our beam down point in half an hour.” He shrugged and stared off at some undefined point in the forest. “I guess I mainly just wanted to get out of everyone’s sight for a while – I thought I might cry or throw up, and I didn’t want anyone to see me if either happened.”

“What did you do after the landing party dispersed?” Spock asked when Jim hesitated again.

Kirk dropped his gaze. “I… wandered. It didn’t really matter where you went: the story was going to be the same anyway. I ended up near a row of houses – and on an impulse, I went into one of them.” He shot a quick look at Spock, and then looked away again. “I was calling out, which was stupid: I knew by then no one would answer.”

A tiny breeze came up and knocked small bunches of snow from the boughs of the trees all around them; the sighing of the branches sounded unnaturally loud in the peaceful forest. Spock shivered, but not because of the winter cold.

“It was a beautiful house,” Kirk continued. “There was a tiled fountain in the middle of the entrance, crystal and mirrors everywhere, plush carpets and luxurious furniture – it was the sort of house that someone had loved and had lavished attention upon.”

“As I recall, the Arrakians were a prosperous people who were known for their love of beauty.”

“There was no one in the house,” Kirk said as if Spock had not spoken. “I should have just left. But instead…”

“Instead?”

“I went through the door in the rear of the house – the one that led into the garden.”

Spock’s castoff snowshoe was lying in a drift nearby; absently, Kirk walked over to it and picked it up. Staring down at it as if he’d never seen it before, he finally brought it back to Spock, who took it wordlessly, his eyes never leaving the human’s face.

“The garden was incredible,” Kirk continued. “Lush and luxuriant – so different from the world of death outside. There were huge exotic flowers that hung down from golden arbors; every tree was alive with songbirds – there was color and sound everywhere. And that scent…” His voice trailed off. “The smell of life, of growing things. It was like a little paradise in the middle of hell. But… it almost made what was outside seem even worse.” He shut his eyes, remembering. “There was a path.”

“A path?”

“A path of stone, twisting off into the center of the garden. I- I followed it.”

Kirk’s words came haltingly; Spock noted that the human’s hands had bunched up into fists.

“I found them there – in the middle of the garden.”

“Found… whom?”

“Two young men.”

Kirk pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowed. It was the same expression, Spock noted, that he had had last night when staring into the fire. Spock leaned forward, studying Kirk’s face intently, certain that an answer or at least a clue was about to be disclosed.

“Are you cold? We ought to be heading back,” Kirk said shakily, averting his gaze.

“I am not cold,” Spock said. “Tell me about the men you discovered.”

“God,” Jim murmured, looking up into the sky as his eyes filled with tears. “I don’t even know why it bothers me so much - why I can’t get the memory of it out of my mind. Damn it,” he added fiercely as one tear escaped and wet his cheek. He brushed it away angrily with the back of his gloved hand and said, “All right: They were lying on a blanket underneath a tree – naked – in each other’s arms.” He glared at Spock as if the Vulcan were personally responsible and added, “They’d come to the garden to make love. Instead…”

“They died,” Spock finished softly.

“Yes,” Kirk said; his voice harsh with grief. “They died. Do you want to know more? Fine: Their eyes were still open. They were staring at each other. They were smiling. They died… smiling.” He turned away. “Now you know everything there is to know about Arrakis. So let’s get the hell out of here before we freeze to death.”

“Jim.”

“What?”

“Why does it bother you?”

Jim stopped in his tracks and wheeled around, his face pale with fury. “Because it’s so goddamn unfair, that’s why! They had everything, Spock – everything! And it was all ripped away from them in a tiny instant by that… that horrific thing that came out of the void and wiped them out. This is the kind of universe we live in.” He gestured toward the branch of evergreen, his expression a study in disgust. “You want to know why legends like that dumb pine tree story exist in the first place? Because we need them. We need them to help us to lie to ourselves, to tell ourselves that there is certainty in this life. If we didn’t have them, we’d have to face the truth – and we’d be so paralyzed by it that we probably wouldn’t be able to take another step.”

Spock looked down at the little evergreen branch and considered the legend that Jim had told him that morning. For some reason, he remembered, too, the cardinal that he had spotted just a half an hour earlier. “I must disagree,” he finally said. “I do not believe that either the druids or the Christians saw evergreen as a symbol of certainty. I think they saw something else entirely.” He bent down to fasten the snowshoe again upon his boot.

“Really.” Jim’s voice was harsh with bitterness. “And what, may I ask, do you think that was?”

Spock looked up and gave the human the slightest shadow of a smile. “Hope.”

“Hope.”

“Yes.”

“Well, after what I saw on Arrakis, I don’t think that’s much to go on. Those two men are dead, and there’s nothing that can undo that – certainly not hope, or wishes – or anything else for that matter.”

Spock straightened; the snowshoe once more secure. “True. But as you’ve pointed out, they did have everything once. Do you think it’s possible for people like that to live without hope – or to die without it?”

Jim shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter, either. Let’s get out of here before we freeze to death.” He turned away.

“Wait.”

Something in Spock’s voice made Jim turn around, albeit reluctantly. “What?”

Spock gripped the branch more tightly in his hand as if it were some sort of talisman against the repercussions of what he was about to say. “I… I must ask you a question before we leave. No, that is not quite accurate. I must ask you two questions.”

“If I answer, then can we get the hell out of here?”

“I must ask you this: Is your grief,” Spock continued doggedly, “truly for what those two men lost… or for what you believe you, yourself, have not yet found?”

Jim’s eyes widened and his face went utterly white.

Perhaps my theory is indeed correct, Spock thought to himself with a thrill of something that felt as bright and brilliant within his side as the flash of a cardinal’s wings against the snow. Before he could lose his courage, he forged on. “My second question: In your dream last night, you said there was something you wished that you had told me. What was it that you wanted me to know?”

The human stepped back and brought his hand up to his chest as if the question had pierced him through. “Ask me,” he whispered, “anything but that.”

“Jim.” There was a tinge of reproach in the Vulcan’s voice. He stepped closer to his captain and looked down inquiringly upon the human’s upturned face. “Can it be true that you trust me less than your horse?” Very gently and ever so cautiously, he touched Jim’s cheek. “Tell me. I promise you: I shall not let you fall.”

He had to wait for an almost unendurably long amount of time before Jim finally replied. “No,” the human said at last. “You wouldn’t, would you? You never have – not once in all the time I’ve known you.” He reached up and captured the Vulcan’s hand in his own. Meeting Spock’s eyes resolutely, he said, “All right then. This is what I didn’t tell you – what I’ve never told you. I… I love you.”

Spock’s grip on Kirk’s hand tightened. “Yes,” he whispered. “I believe… I knew that.”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, his eyes still full of apprehension, “exactly what I’m trying to say. There are so many kinds of love, you know. Love like a friend for a friend, and love like a brother for a brother, and -” He stopped, bit his lip nervously and then finally took a deep breath. “And love like…”

But Spock had already gathered the human into his arms, had already begun to bestow upon Kirk’s mouth a series of deep, heartfelt kisses that utterly precluded any possibility of talking. “And love like this,” he finished for Jim, once he finally pulled away.

“Oh,” Jim said when he finally found his voice. “Yes. Exactly. Love like this.” He reached for Spock, his eyes bright with relief and desire.

Spock fell into his captain’s embrace eagerly. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of Jim and of the clean winter air and of the tall snow-covered evergreens. Jim was holding him, murmuring words of love, pressing December cold lips against his neck. And it all seemed fantastic, unreal – and utterly, completely right.

I shall never live without this again, he promised himself. In the distance, the cardinal began to sing, but Spock could see no betraying flash of red against the snow. It’s doubtless safe within its refuge, as I am in mine, he thought. He pressed his cheek against the top of Jim’s head and smiled.

The End

FANTASY

Buffy - Cordelia/Drusilla

Author: Akinaj
Title: Christmas Royalty
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Dru/Cordy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cordy meets someone unexpected on Christmas Eve
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't earn anything with them, so please don't sue me.
Feedback address: yellow_dragon_22@yahoo.de
Spoilers: This turns AU around Christmas season 4.
Beta: big thank you to kitkat for a thorough and great beta job! Any remaining mistakes are purely my fault.
Note: This one is all spherissa’s fault. She put this pairing into my head. A big thank you for research help goes to amejisuto, and to ficbitcabear.

Christmas Royalty

Cordelia released a sigh as the car sped past the ‘Welcome to Aspen’ sign. The car trip with her parents had been unusually trying and she was looking forward to having her own room at the hotel. A Christmas far away from Sunnydale and its obnoxious inhabitants was just what she needed, and she knew that her parents would not stand in her way of having some fun.

It didn’t take long for her to be shown to her room, the bellboy, carrying her three suitcases, following. She handed him a bill and then set about freshening up. There was no way she would miss out on even one evening of glamour and worthy society.

Three hours later, Cordelia descended the stairs towards the hotel’s lower levels dressed in a golden sheath accentuating her curves, a tiara crowning her head. She had high hopes to be invited to visit the exclusive Caribou Club this year, and she wanted to look her best right from the start.

Entering the lounge bar of the hotel, Cordelia’s glance scanned the room. When a shimmer of black and red lace caught her eye, Cordelia strolled further into the room until she was in a position to take a further look at the person that had caught her gaze.

In a secluded corner, surrounded by simpering young men catering to her every whim, sat a dark haired woman of deceiving fragility. With her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders and the red satin underneath the black lace catching the low light with every move, Drusilla was the epitome of a high society princess.

Cordelia suppressed a shudder. She hadn’t expected to see the vampire ever again after Xander’s love spell went haywire last year. A quiet voice inside her head whispered you hoped you would, but she tried to ignore it.

Just as she was turning away, intending to find another place to hunt for that all-important invitation, a tall dark haired man extricated himself from the group around Drusilla and came directly towards her.

“Miss… Cordelia?” he inquired.

She gave a slow, gracious nod, acknowledging that it was indeed her name.

“Lady Drusilla asks if you would like to join her. She says you are an old acquaintance and that you must come and catch up with her.” He bowed and offered her his arm.

Seeing no way to refuse, Cordy placed her hand on his arm and let herself be escorted to the table were Drusilla was holding court.

Drusilla was earnestly introducing the young men surrounding her to Miss Edith, but as soon as Cordy came within a few feet of the table, her attention snapped around, focussing on her.

“My my my, isn’t she lovely, Miss Edith. A true queen she looks tonight, our Queen C…” and a trilling laugh rose from her throat as she shooed the men away to make room for Cordelia to approach her.

Warily, Cordelia stepped closer and took a seat directly next to Drusilla. As she looked around the table, she noticed that among the men were faces that she recognised from the title pages of magazines. Models and starlets, they had fallen under Drusilla’s spell, and now were willing worshippers and followers of her every whim.

It took Cordelia only a minute to decide that there were worse things than spending an evening with beautiful people fawning over her.

Meanwhile, Drusilla had continued talking, making sure that Miss Edith and Cordy had something to drink and acting the prefect hostess. They actually chatted quite amiably for a while, until Drusilla seemed to get bored with the setting.

Her admirers noticed it immediately, and hurried to suggest a visit to the Caribou Club, making sure to invite Cordelia along, as Drusilla seemed to be quite taken with her.

The group left the bar in high spirits, and somehow Cordy found herself dragged along on Drusilla’s arm, both of them framed by gorgeous male models.

There was no problem getting into the club, their escorts made sure of that. Inside, they were ushered to a velvet-clad couch where they sat as their admirers swarmed around them, some perching on the armrests, others simply dropping to the floor at their feet with no care for the damage they were doing to their clothes.

Cordy and Drusilla throned above them like royalty.

Distracted royalty, but royalty nonetheless. For Drusilla was busy showing all the decoration to Miss Edith, and Cordelia was following her explanations with interest and only a hint of unease.

“See that twig over there, Miss Edith? It is called the Mistletoe, and if you stand under it, you must slap the person daring to kiss you. For so it has been told by the stars. Unless the person is someone that you want to bite, then you can do that instead. But mind you that you don’t drink too much. If you do that, then the stars will get angry and the poor flowers will die. We mustn’t kill the pretty flowers, Miss Edith, no we mustn’t kill them.”

Drusilla beckoned one of the men to stand up, then dragged him along the arm towards the crowded dance floor, loudly calling for a waltz. The DJ took one look at her and the looks of her followers daring him to defy her and hurried to switch the music despite mumbled protests from the other patrons.

Cordy found herself looking at the blond head of a famous model bowing before her, and she too was swept onto the dance floor and led into a graceful waltz.

At the end of the dance, she found herself in Drusilla’s strong hold, being swept off into another round, Miss Edith caught between their bodies.

It felt weird to feel another woman’s body pressed so close, but the tingling spreading up her hands didn’t feel bad at all. Of course not, that little voice inside her head whispered, why should it feel bad. You’ve only had a crush on her ever since you found her running after your man back when. Question is, are you gonna do something about it now, or not?

She looked into Drusilla’s eyes for a long moment.

Yes, she decided, I am ready for it, and she pulled her closer, enveloping Drusilla’s cool body in her warmth.

Drusilla smiled and rested her head against Cordelia’s shoulder, gently nuzzling her face against the side of her neck. …

When the dance ended, they released there hold slightly, and Drusilla led her partner off the dance floor. Completely ignoring her admirers, the vampire steered towards the exit.

Outside, in the clear winter air, she stopped and Cordelia drew a calming breath. She was dimly aware of the risk she was taking, but right now, nothing seemed better than following her dark princess to wherever she planned to take her.

Drusilla tugged at her hand, and together, they stepped out into the snow, following no visible trail out onto the mountain. The cold was only a distant sensation compared with the warmth of feelings flooding her.

The lights of the city disappeared behind them until they reached a small vale where nothing but the clear black sky with it millions and millions of stars shining onto the pure white snow remained.

Drusilla stopped and with a beaming smile, she pulled Cordelia close until their lips met in a first chaste kiss.

“My beautiful Cordelia, I’ll make you a queen yet. Queen of winter, Queen Snow White you shall be, with milk white skin and blood on your lips, hair as dark as the sky tonight.”

Cordy didn’t have the strength to reply, the spell Dru had wrapped around her keeping her entranced and happy to comply.

“Oh my sweet Cordy, we shall rule the world together, and Christmas shall be our holiday. Can you see the stars dancing above us? They are celebrating their queen and princess, yes they are…”

And when Cordy looked up, holding Dru close against her still warm body, she saw the stars begin their eternal dance, as the white hot sting of needle-sharp fangs spread a final warmth through her body.

END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Carawen Javolia
Title: Ornament
Date: Dec. 9
Fandom: Books: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: PG
Summary: I just know you're far away on this Christmas day.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, do you really think I wouldn't be making money off them?
Feedback address: carawenprose@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Lyrics in the story come from TSO, This Christmas Day. Title and summary come from Ornament. This can fit into my Music universe, which you can read at my site.
Beta: Orion

Ornament

Severus took the letter from the owl with a glare. He had no doubts at all of the sender. The letter was short but undoubtedly full of all those overly-sweet sentiments he tried to avoid. Though it was hard when Potter did his best to draw such feelings out.

It was a short letter, but Severus couldn't put off reading it indefinitely. Severus poured a tumbler of brandy before settling into one of the wingback chairs before his fireplace.

Dear Severus-
I hope your enjoying your Winter Hols. I'd be there with you if I could, but Tarney is being a bastard as usual. I can't say much, but I shouldn't be here more than a few days. I'm certain I'll be home by New Years.

I know it will make you growl and complain, but one of my team members had introduced me to a Muggle band, called Trans-Siberian Orchestra. It's Christmas music, with a majority of it having Christian influence, but it's beautiful. I think even you would like some of their songs. Some of the words, though, they struck me, and I thought I should share them with you. So here they are.

It's different now
It's changed somehow
And now you're here to stay

For of all the dreams
You were the first I knew
And every other one
Was a charade of you

I love you, and I can't wait to be home with you again. And when I get home, there's so much that I want to talk about with you. It's all good, I promise.

I hope you aren't too lonely without me, but I know how much you enjoy time away from your students. You've undoubtedly put all of your strongest wards up to keep Albus out at least until tomorrow, took a nice long bath, and have settled by the fire with a brandy and one of your favorite books. Or, at the moment, my letter. If I were there with you, I would sit on the floor at your feet and rest my head on your knee. I wouldn't need to do anything, just being there with you would be enough for me. Perhaps occasionally you'd lower a hand to my head, card your long fingers through my hair, a reminder to both of us that I'm there.

I know you always say there isn't a romantic bone in your body, but I know better. I don't need the big, sweeping gestures that the rest of the world can see. You do so much for me already, little things that not many others would notice. But I do, and that's the important part. It was only two years ago that you told me you couldn't love again, and look where we are now. That's a rather sweeping gesture if you think about it.

I think you needed to hear this, even if you don't realize it. I'll never be ashamed to say it, to say how much I love you. Because I do, and I don't care who knows it. You mean too much to me to ever deny or try to hide what we have.

I've said I lot more in this letter than I was going to, but it was all worth it. I know I'll be home very soon, I can feel it. Don't get too lonely without me.

I love you,
Harry

Severus sat back, Harry's letter clutched loosely in his hand. Much as he might try to deny it later, Harry's words had filled him with warmth. He knew now the days before Harry's return would seem like they would be a year each. Things to talk about, hmm? Perhaps it was time for Severus to retrieve the family rings from his vault, if what he thought Harry was referring to was correct. Suddenly the idea of spending the rest of his life with Harry wasn't a distant or uncertain thought.

Now, he just had to wait.

END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Gifts of the Yuletide - Altaira (Part four of four)

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: malachite eyes
Title: Yule Tied
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: HP/SS
Summary: Harry gets a rather unusual Christmas present this year.
Book: Harry Potter series
Date of publication: Dec 9
Disclaimer: The only thing that belongs to me in this story is the ribbon and the dagger.
Feedback address: slither_soft@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: I tried and tried to be light and fluffy for Christmas. This was the best I could do. Warning for mild bondage.
Beta: misscenire, the lovely and talented leianora

Yule Tied

Dobby moved purposefully about Harry Potter’s bedroom. He spruced things up, put clothes away and changed bed linens, all by hand so that he could keep his ears trained on the living room. Harry was having company that evening and Dobby was hoping to overhear some hints as to what to get his favorite wizard for Christmas. Dobby wanted to do something extra special this year since Harry had finally killed the Dark Lord as well as helping the younger Malfoy, whom Dobby had always liked, kill his evil father. He finished the domestic chores and crept up to the door, hoping to get a better vantage point. He peered out into the warmly lit sitting room and watched the two men sipping golden liquor from bell shaped glasses. Pale eyes fixed on green and Draco asked the fateful question: “Well, Potter, what do you want for Christmas this year? What does one get the Man Who Killed Voldemort and earned the love of the Wizarding world?”

“Ha-ha, Draco, very funny. If I could have anything, you know very well it would be a ‘who’ not a ‘what’. I want Severus Snape bound up and presented to me, complete with ribbons and bows.”

Dobby backed away from the door and skipped a bit with excitement. Harry’s greatest wish was the Severus? He wrung his hands a bit and cast about the room for inspiration. He noticed a magazine sticking out from the drawer beside Harry’s bed and pulled it free. The cover showed a man bound about in brightly colored cords. Dobby’s face lit up with excitement; so this was how you made a man into a present! He hugged the magazine to his grubby little chest and disappeared with a pop.

-----

Charms Professor Harry Potter was exhausted. He had spent Christmas Eve in the Great Hall, exams spread in scattered heaps all about him. This massive grading binge was his least favorite Christmas tradition, but it allowed him to revel in the holiday break with a clean slate and no responsibilities. Harry trudged up to his door with his entire mind focused on the hot shower to come.

He was completely unprepared for the neon pink and green Christmas wreath that some misguided soul had woven out of socks and hung from his mantle. He was even less prepared for the singing. Quickly he cast a silencing charm and leaned forward to remove a flashing envelope from the middle. He opened it with an incredulous shake of his throbbing head.

HARRY POTTER’S HEART’S DESIRE
WAITS BESIDE HIS OFFICE FIRE!!
Merry Christmas!
From, Dobby

Smiling, Harry tucked the letter back into the center of the wreath. Dobby’s idea of his heart’s desire could definitely wait until after a hot shower and a headache potion.

-----

An hour later he was clean and dressed in his favorite pajama bottoms and a robe. Cautiously, Harry snuck down the halls and into his darkened office, managing to slip inside without being caught in his undignified dress. With a wave of his hand the banked fire grew to a warm blaze and the scattered candles about the room sprung to light. His eyes widened as he stared appreciatively at the gift that Dobby had left for him.

Severus Snape stood bound against the wall, drawn up to his full height, wrists tied over his head with green silk cords. Gold and crimson ribbon ran in a lazy spiral down each arm, highlighting the ridges of lean muscles. The sparkling wrappings crossed over Severus’s chest, interweaving as they twined their way down to narrow hips. The ribbons were spun tightly there, preserving Severus’s modesty and tantalizing Harry with what lurked under the twists and loops. The ribbon twirled loosely down legs spread wide and muscles pulled taught and quivering with an effort to maintain balance. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and panting. Harry lost his breath at the sight. Silently, he removed his robe, folded it, laid them aside and took the sheathed dagger from the hook on the side of his desk. In a slow smooth movement, Harry unsheathed the blade and held it in the firelight, admiring the gleam on the steel. Silently, he padded closer to the bound man and paused a few feet away just to enjoy the site.

“My, Severus, what a picture you make.” Dark eyes flew open and flashed in shock. Harry felt heat build in his stomach and begin to pour through him, sensitizing his skin and making his nipples into hard and aching peaks. The dark gaze met his, and then trailed over his body like a caress, taking in the red cotton pants, his bare chest, the blade in his hand. The warmth surged and Harry’s heart began to pound as those eyes filled with the simmering anger he knew so well. When they filled with desire, Harry went rock hard. Oh, Severus was beautiful like this; all that passion bound and presented for Harry to savor at his leisure. The thin lips worked, the tongue flashed out, moistening them.

“Potter! What is the meaning of this?”

“It seems, sir, that you are one of my Christmas presents this year. “ An outraged retort was cut off with a wave of a hand and a small spell. “Now, now, no more talking. I wouldn’t want to gag you. I am sure I can find some interesting uses for that mouth.”

Harry advanced the last few steps to stand in front of Severus and raised the dagger. “Now, let’s see about unwrapping you, shall we?” He traced the line of muscle along Severus’ side with the dagger, following the path of the ribbon up his body to circle the hollow of his collarbone. “Hmm... maybe I’ll start from the bottom.” The blade slid back down the other side, pausing to trace the diamond of ribbon around Severus’ navel. Harry knelt and cast his gaze upward taking in the long smooth lines. He shifted focus to one quivering thigh.

Gently he ran his nails up along the under side. A soft moan slid between Severus’ clenched teeth. Absently, Harry waved a hand to undo his spell and was rewarded when much louder sounds accompanied his next foray. Gently, slowly, he slid the blade beneath the bindings. He breathed along the length, watched the small hairs on Severus’s thigh twitch, watched the blade fog. He tensed his fingers -- tightening, tightening. With a soft sound the ribbons parted, pooling to the floor in a sensual wave. Severus panted and tossed his head, shuddering with sensation. Harry trailed the tip of the blade up and down the thigh, circled the knee, trailed it down to the ankle where the ribbon curled. Then he replaced the blade with tongue and teeth and built a ladder of soft nibbling kisses over Severus’s flesh. Each kiss was met with moan or sigh; Severus’ head tossed. His eyes slid closed reveling in the sensual touch or flew open to stare blankly at the ceiling. Harry circled his way up, sucked the back of the knee, left light marks in a symmetrical line along the soft flesh where thigh meets groin. Harry nuzzled against the nest of ribbon and smiled to feel the twitching hardness there. Severus smelled elemental: spicy, like fire. Harry inhaled deeply and pondered the left leg.

“Oh! Harry...Gods!” Severus was incoherent and overwhelmed as the man bent and began to undo his left leg one circling of ribbon at a time. He couldn’t react; all he could do was feel. The ribbon was scratchy and sent shivers over his sensitive skin. His cock was being tormented constantly as Harry tugged a loop of ribbon away from Severus’ thigh with his teeth and cut it free. Each tug pulled the twists against Severus, dragging the ribbon across the sensitive tip of his cock, making him writhe and creating still more torment. Harry finally reached his ankle and Severus sighed and sagged in his bonds.

Then Harry began to suck on his toes and Severus began to whimper.

Harry smiled and moved his mouth to the ankle as Severus tensed, licking his way up the shin. When this produced more whimpering he shifted tactics and bit the soft flesh of Severus’ lower thigh. The loud moan was satisfying, so he continued to bite his way towards the next stage in his unwinding, leaving lovely reddened bight marks in his wake. At last he reached the nest of ribbon at Severus’ groin. He paused and stared up at his Christmas present. The firelight played across Severus’ heaving chest, creating fluttering shadows. The man’s eyes were shadowed and heavily lidded, dark and sightless. Harry could barely contain himself. He felt like he would explode just from watching him. Then Severus’ cock twitched in its wrapping, and Harry focused all of his attention on the task at hand.

Harry made short work of the ribbon this time; they were both beyond waiting. With a groan he fastened his lips around Severus’ cock and sucked him deep into his throat. He tugged gently, massaging Severus’s balls lightly and swirled his tongue along the thick vein, pausing to flick it across the swollen head. He nibbled and kissed his way down until he could mouthe and roll each testicle savoring the salty taste before nosing behind them to suck gently on the sensitive skin there. He ran his tongue teasingly along the line where leg meets groin, enjoying the trembling of his partner and the cock swaying against his cheek. He kissed the side, and took it into his mouth again. Harry took Severus in deeply, sucked hard once, twice, and felt pressure against the back of his throat as the cock became even harder. Harry hummed low in his throat, bobbing his head in fast movements until Severus screamed in orgasm. Harry swallowed, the salty taste of Severus coating his tongue and mixing with the taste of sweat and man. He held onto the cock, milking every last drop while Severus shuddered and sagged. Satisfied, Harry finally released him and stood, stretching his back.

The potions master hung limp in his bindings and attempted to order his thoughts. After a few minutes of hanging, his arms began to hurt and he shifted to get his feet back under him. He locked eyes with Harry, leaning now against the corner of his desk and smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “What are you staring at, Potter?”

Harry laughed. “Acres and acres and it’s all mine... Don’t ask. Just a quote from a muggle book I read once.” He stood and moved in close, sliding his arms around Severus’ waist. “Merry Christmas to me,” Harry murmured and kissed him. Severus tasted the salt tang of cum in Harry’s mouth mixed with the sweetness of the honeyed tea the man preferred. Incredulously he felt himself begin to respond. Fingers traced delicately up his arms, brushing the ribbon away and teasing the sensitive bends of his elbows.

“Mmm... Harry, are you trying to further destroy my sanity? I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Severus...” Harry hissed and crushed their bodies together. Tongues lashed each other as the kiss deepened into a fight for dominance. Harry’s hands were hard on his, tugging at the last bindings. He growled and tore himself away, grabbed the dagger from the desk where he had discarded it and slashed the silk ropes savagely in two. Severus winced as the keen edge slashed his forearm, but didn’t pause; he stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Harry, sliding their chests together and diving into another kiss.

Harry found himself flat on his back with several stone of potions master pinning him to his own desk. The dagger was wrestled from his hand and suddenly he was trapped, bound by Severus’s magic. “And now, Mr. Potter, it’s Merry Christmas to me,” Severus purred. With surgical precision, he slit the legs of Harry’s pants from ankle to waist. “Fair is fair after all,” Severus murmured as he reached into the desk drawer for the spare lube. Harry groaned and tried to wriggle as cold fingers pressed into him, stroking. They scissored inside him, twisted and curled. Quickly they were joined by a third and Severus began to stroke his prostate rhythmically. Harry’s stomach began to ache along with his cock; he was painfully hard and had been so for too long. The tormenting fingers slid out of him and Harry whined in protest. When they were replaced by Severus’s cock, Harry’s mind went blank. Severus slid in and out slowly, shifting until he found just the right angle. Then he slammed in hard and fast, pummeling Harry with stimulation. He did explode then, coming like a fountain, torn between burning pain and intense pleasure. Severus quickly followed and collapsed shuddering.

Once they could move again, Severus unbound Harry and cleaned them off. Severus handed Harry his newly repaired pajama pants and glared at him. “How did that blasted house elf manage to find out about this particular fantasy?”

“Er...toldracooverdrinks.”

“You what?

“Told Draco over drinks... Dobby must have overheard.”

“Well. Be sure to give him two pairs of socks this year.”

“Damn right!”

“And Harry, If Draco Malfoy ever breathes a word of this...”

“Don’t worry, Severus, if Draco tells anyone, I’ll get Dobby to tie him to my office wall next year.”

Severus picked up Harry’s robe from the desk chair and slid into it. “That could be very... interesting. Come, let’s go to bed. Four hours standing bound against a cold stone wall is awfully hard on the joints.”

They headed out into the halls together, towards their chambers. “How about a bath first? Nice and hot.”

“You just want me naked...”

“You’ve caught me.”

The two men turned the corner and were gone. Dobby crawled out from his hiding place and began to tidy up the mess. It certainly seemed that Harry Potter liked his Christmas Present. Happily, Dobby began to sing Jingle Bells in his high pitched voice, while gathering ribbons, cording and bows. Mess cleaned up, He disappeared with a pop.

END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Sera Clay
Title: Jingle Balls
Date: December 9
Fandom: Harry Potter/Books
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry and Snape give each other Christmas gifts
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I'm not profiting financially from what I make them do together.
Feedback address: fic_reader_id@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Harry/Snape - Established Relationship, smut
Beta: my friend Kim

Jingle Balls by Sera Clay

With a tired smile, Professor Harry Potter deposited the last of the night's memories into the Pensieve he shared with his lover, Professor Severus Snape. The Pensieve sat on a low table at the foot of their bed, gleaming full with Harry's Christmas gift for Snape. The gift had not been an easy request, this year. Harry yawned, stretched and stripped off the tight black Muggle clothing that had served him so well. Naked, he stood for a moment in front of the fireplace, enjoying the heat playing across his muscular body, and thought about the events of the evening.

Funny how some things that seemed exciting at first lost their appeal with repetition.

Harry could see a light gleaming from the bathroom, so he fixed himself a tall, strong scotch from the cupboard next to the fireplace, took a quick sip, and poked his head inside. Red and green candles burned on every available surface, gleaming against the white tile. A sprig of mistletoe dangled above the bath, where Snape sat chest deep in streaming water sprinkled with dried herbs. The room smelled like herbs and pine.

"Are you still reading in there?" Harry asked.

Snape looked up from his bath with mock indignation on his face at the interruption. He was reading a faded German monograph, and his wand sat ready on the tiled ledge at the side of the bath so he could endlessly re-heat the water.

"Just waiting for you, Harry." Snape's deep voice was almost a purr, still so sexy to Harry after all the years of hearing his lover speak to him.

Funny how some other things grew more exciting with time.

Harry took another sip of his scotch and approached the tub. Snape picked up his wand and muttered a spell. Then he tossed the monograph into the air, and sent it winging back through their shared rooms in the direction of his study.

"Come on in," Snape invited, sitting up a little straighter and bending his knees to make room for Harry at the other end of the tub.

Balancing his glass of scotch carefully, Harry stepped into the tub and sunk deep into the water with a sigh of pleasure. He fit his legs around Snape's legs with the ease of long practice.

"I noticed a few new memories in the Pensieve, " said Harry, lifting his glass of scotch to Snape's lips so his lover could take a drink.

Snape looked briefly alarmed. "You didn't look?" he began.

"No," Harry reassured him, "I'll wait until Christmas morning."

He paused, then met Snape's dark eyes over the rim of the glass.

"Did you really . .?" Harry asked in a doubtful tone.

Snape smirked.

"I did everything you asked, Harry - and I did those things in front of a mirror."

Harry was almost painfully hard now.

Funny how there was always something ever more exciting to do.

"Well, you'll get to enjoy your experience of fondling 100 sets of balls as well," Harry announced, sinking a little deeper into the water. "Courtesy of some very generous Muggle gentlemen who held an ..... equipment -judging contest ..... at their club earlier tonight. With yours truly as the judge."

Harry grinned as Snape's eyes briefly narrowed to ebony slits. After so many years together, Harry knew every minute sign of his lover's arousal. And just imagining their Christmas ritual, the exchange of gifts of erotic memories which each had requested, never failed to stir Snape.

The younger, less inhibited Harry always brought back some fantasy acted out with strangers - the more reserved Snape tried something new, alone or with Harry the night before Christmas, and then shared his memories of that new pleasure. And now this year's gifts of erotic memories waited in the Pensieve for Christmas morning.

"Show me exactly how you judged them, Harry" murmured Snape, leaning back in the bath and sliding his legs open further.

Harry took one more gulp of scotch and set his glass aside on the ledge next to Snape's wand, then reached down under the water to fondle his lover with newly expert, impartial fingers.

"Very good , Severus Snape, large and well-shaped ," Harry spoke in what he hoped was a judge's voice.

It had been too loud in the club for him to do more than murmur his decisions to the scantily dressed barman who was taking notes. The line of men eager to strip for Harry's eyes and fingers had grown and grown, once the pleasure in Harry's brief touches was reported through the crowd. It hadn't been much magic, really, just to include a jolt of pleasure for each man he touched. So that later, in the Pensieve, Snape could see each erection lift, with Harry's hand below, carefully not touching it. Harry always tried to add a little tease to each fantasy, to spur Snape into wanting more, the next year.

"Thank you for exposing yourself to me to be judged,"Harry went on. Snape's hips bucked briefly in the water as Harry very gently squeezed and released his lover in time with his words.

"Tell me I win, Harry," whispered Snape, his face twisting from one side to the other as he shuddered with sensation.

Harry slid one hand up to briefly stroke his lover's cock, then returned to his explorations of Snape's balls. "But of course, the crowd will need to see your balls to fully appreciate our winner . .. ."

Snape was pressed against the end of the tub now, and he was breathing harshly. Harry slid both hands up to Snape's cock and stroked him harder, two-handed, watching his lover's face intently for the moment of orgasm. A vision Harry always tried to capture and store in the Pensieve, for later viewing.

Funny how memories in the Pensieve were always so exciting, never faded by time.

"They're all looking at you now, Sev," Harry went on, pumping relentlessly, "Turn around and spread your legs . . . . .bend over and show them from the back . . . ."

And Snape was arching and screaming hoarsely, almost hitting his head on the edge of the tub with the force of his climax.

Memories of Harry fondling 100 pairs of balls. Memories of Snape and a dildo and a mirror.

It was going to be a fabulous Christmas.

END

MOVIEVERSE

by AcidQueen a.q at gmx.de

MOVIEVERSE

Pirates of the Caribbean - Jack/Will

Author: D
Title: A New Beginning
Date: whenever it’s needed
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: PG
Summary: Will wants a life with Jack.
Disclaimer: Disney owns all, no copyright infringement intended.
Feedback address: uttrmpt82@netscape.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Min

A NEW BEGINNING

The atmosphere in the small house was as uncomfortable ever and Will Turner couldn’t stand it anymore.  Staring across the table at his wife Elizabeth, he wondered how they had grown so far apart in so little a time.

They had only been married for six months, but ever since their marriage things had been strained.  Will couldn’t help but miss life as a pirate and his adventures with Jack Sparrow even though he hadn’t seen Jack since Jack’s escape on the Black Pearl.

Looking at Elizabeth’s huddled form, Will decided something must be done.  He stood up and Elizabeth looked at him questioningly.  “Elizabeth,” Will said, “I can’t do this anymore.  We can’t do this anymore.  I can’t even talk to you anymore and I can’t stand it.  If we can’t work this out, I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

At that Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock, but underneath that Will could see sadness and a healthy amount of relief.  Elizabeth looked down at the table and said, “I’m sorry things had to end up like this, but I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Elizabeth looked up, and seeing that Will was about to interrupt, motioned him to silence.  “Look, I could tell fairly early on that you weren’t in this forever.  As much as I wish you could have been, I know that you long too much for the sea and for Jack to really want to settle down with me.  I knew one day it would come to this…so I just want you to go after Jack.”

Seeing he was about to interrupt again, Elizabeth stood and put her hand over his mouth.  “I’ll be fine, really,” she said, “my father will be happy to have me back, and I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to my marrying Commodore Norrington…”  Elizabeth blushed and looked down as Will struggled for words.

In the end he just settled for hugging her and both quietly packed their bags.  As Will walked toward the dock, he looked back just as Elizabeth disappeared from view.

Will then headed down to the dock in search of information on the Black Pearl.  After asking around, he learned that the Pearl was in Tortuga and that he could get passage on a ship due to leave in a few hours.

After an uneventful trip, Will arrived in Tortuga unsure of where to go.  He finally decided to head to the nearest inn to get a room while he searched for Jack.  As he walked by the door of a tavern, he heard a very loud, familiar voice.

Entering the tavern, Will saw Jack sitting with his head down on a table.  Will walked up to Jack and tapped him on the shoulder.  Getting no response, he shook Jack, who abruptly sat up and looked around.  He squinted up at Will, said “Hey, mate,” and let his head drop back to the table. 

Will grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him up, steadying Jack when he stumbled.  “You’ve got to take me to the Pearl, Jack,” Will said as they headed toward the dock, “I want to come with you if you’ll have me.”

Jack stopped walking, suddenly looking much more sober than he had moments before.  “Are ye sure lad?  What ‘appened to Elizabeth?” he asked.  Will turned red and looked at the ground as he mumbled, “We’re not together anymore.  We both realized that there’s somewhere else I’d rather be and someone else I’d rather be with.”

Will looked up at Jack through his eyelashes and quickly began to walk toward the dock again.  Jack stood stock still watching Will for a moment before he hurried to catch up.  He grabbed Will by the arm and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

When Jack released Will, they both resumed walking toward the Black Pearl.  As they approached the Pearl, Jack glanced at Will and said, “So it’s a new beginning ye be wanting?  I think we can do that.”

END

REALISTIC SHOWS

Boston Legal - Alan Shore/Brad Chase

Author: vagablonde
Title: At Midnite Clear
Date: December 9 2004
Fandom: Boston Legal/Realistic Series
Pairing: Alan Shore/Brad Chase
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The deal was for all day.....
Disclaimer: These guys aren't mine - if they were they'd be bopping like bunnies! All hail to David E. Kelley and the host of folks making money off these beauties - of which I am not one.
Feedback address: hautecoffey@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Immediately follows "Loose Lips", may be considered spoilerish for same
Beta: Curran Kisser

At Midnite Clear

"There is no fucking way I am going to - that was not part of the bet!" Brad sputtered.

"One day, wasn't that what we agreed on, Brad? One full day, an implied twenty-four hours, no further restrictions, implicit or expressed," Alan pointed out.

"Look! I wore the suit to the staff meeting, I wore it to lunch, I even saw clients wearing this damn thing! That's it!!"

"Welching, are we, Bradley? And I thought you had so much more - character - than that. Guess I was wrong. You do whatever you feel is right regarding the terms of our arrangement, then."

Alan stepped back, holding his hands out in apparent acceptance of Brad's mandate. He disappeared into the files room as a half dozen sets of eyes turned toward the classically refined features of the other lawyer.

"Fine!" Brad bit out. "What time?"

Alan stuck his head from between a row of shelves. "Eight p.m. Sharp. I'll meet you there."


**********
Faneuil Hall glittered garishly in the cold of the Boston night. Storefronts blinked with multi-coloured bursts of light in the fashion of the season. Shoppers, party-goers, shopkeepers and gawkers mulled about the open-air tourist attraction taking in the sights.

The sight of two grown men dressed as Santa and his elf gave more than one parent cause for a second thought. Quincy Marketplace's "Picture with Santa" booth was crowded with hopeful children, eager for their chance to explain in great detail their elaborate lists, each expecting an unequaled windfall. They clamored and clambered, waiting anything but patiently in line for their turn at Alan's lap while Brad employed his less than stellar adolescence-social skills to entertain and herd them.

While one parent dragged her reluctant five-year-old toward the enthroned Alan, Brad took the opportunity to whisper acidly at his colleague - "I will break you for this. I will see you in hell!"


Alan smiled back. "If I arrive there first, I'll wait for you at the gates," he offered. "We can share my Box Seats."

Five hours later, Brad couldn't walk fast enough toward Faneuil Hall's rear entrance trying to escape his erstwhile companion.

"Come now, Bradley, you've been an incredible sport about this whole affair; let me buy you a drink to show no hard feelings."

"There are no hard feelings, Alan," Brad gritted out through his teeth. "There are no feelings at all!"

"One drink."

"No!"

"Bradley?"

"Fuck you, Alan!" Brad kept walking as he held up a middle finger over his shoulder.

"You're gonna have to ride the 'T' home in that outfit." Alan pointed out smugly.

Brad stopped. Turned.

"You're buying!" he growled.

"Of course."

Alan pointed toward The Black Rose, gesturing for Brad to proceed him.

Music assaulted them and several customers hailed Alan as they entered, the fact that the two men were wearing Santa and Elf costumes seemingly going unnoticed. The thought occurred to Brad that maybe these people were used to Alan walking in in a variety of costumes and dragging some poor soul along.

"Barkeep!" Alan was shouting over the music, "whiskey! And much of it!!"

A bottle appeared quickly as did two empty stools near one end of the baroque bar.

"I like this place," Alan was effusing. "It feels very welcoming, don't you think so?"

Brad pulled the cork from the bottle and poured himself a three-fingered glass.

"Don't mind if I do," Alan said without missing a beat, copying Brad's motions.

Most of the bottle later, Brad pushed himself off the barstool and in the genera