Title: ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: NC-17 

Word Count: 12,682
References/Spoilers: I don't think anything specific. Could be a random movie reference or two.
Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.

Summary: Donald and Timothy celebrate their first Christmas together. A sequel to "Of Hens and Men" in the One Night Series.

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

by

Candy Apple

"Hey, honey, I'm at Blockbuster. What're you in the mood for?" Don asked, and I smiled.

"You're going to be home in time for movie night?" I asked, looking around at the disarray in the apartment. I was wrapping gifts, and I'd lost track of time. Plus, though I believed in his good intentions, I didn't really believe Don would show up in time for our movie night, and remember to stop at the video rental place at the same time. He's a quick healer, but I knew he was still uncomfortable from the beating he'd taken a few days earlier, so I realized part of his punctuality could be that he was ready to knock off for the night.

"I promised I'd be home by eight, and that I'd have a movie with me."

"You have wings on your car?" I teased, since it was almost eight now.

"Shit."

"It's okay, I'm wrapping presents anyway, so it'll take me a few minutes to get things picked up before we watch something. What are we eating? I can make us sub sandwiches unless you want to pick something up."

"Sandwiches are good if you don't mind. I'm a little short."

"Nobody's perfect."

"Ha-ha," he replied with a snort. "So, what'll it be? Horror, comedy, explicit gay porn?"

"How about a Christmas movie?"

"Seriously? Timothy, those are awful. I mean, okay, A Christmas Carol is okay, but all these other sappy movies that smack you over the head with the meaning of Christmas... God, please, not that."

"Look for a movie called Who Slew Auntie Roo?" I said, and there was a dead silence. "Or, if you prefer, there's an old British anthology with a deranged Santa Claus who escaped from an asylum on Christmas Eve...can't remember the title, though."

"Okay, I can do this," he said, sounding happier. "Hey, I found the Auntie Roo one."

"Grab that and if there's something you like the looks of, get it. I promise I'll watch it and not complain."

"Even if it's car chases and shootouts?"

"A deal's a deal." I really didn't mind spending a couple hours of explosions and squealing tires if that's what Donald liked once in a while. His tastes were pretty eclectic, and we were mostly compatible in our movie choices.

"Be home soon," he said, and then he broke the connection.

********

I had a couple movies that didn't sound half bad, and I'd swung by the grocery store long enough to grab a little bouquet of flowers. Timmy didn't expect much from me by way of flowers, but he always liked to get them, even if they were just a bunch of gaudy daisies or something. These were kind of pretty, but then I'd sprung for ten bucks to get the grocery store version of a dozen yellow roses. They were kind of small, but they looked nice, and since yellow roses are for friendship, I picked them out purposely. I wanted Timmy to know he was my best friend, and it was a little way to thank him for taking care of me and fussing over me the last few days.

I turned the key in the lock and started to push the door open.

"Don't come in!" Timmy shouted in a panicked voice, and I abandoned the door, dropped my stuff, and drew my gun, flattening myself against the wall in the hallway, my gun held in both hands, close to me, parallel with my body. My heart was pounding, and my mind raced to try to figure out what could be happening. "Okay, the coast is clear!" he called to me, sounding chipper as could be. Like a fucking Christmas elf. I nearly shit my pants, every bruised part of me was singing with pain from the sudden movement and muscle-stiffening terror, and I was sure I'd lost ten years off my life. "Donald?" Now he sounded worried, and as I holstered my gun and picked up my bouquet and my DVDs, he came to the door. "Everything okay?" he asked, looking concerned as I grunted a bit as I straightened up from picking up the stuff.

"Oh, yeah, great. What the hell did you yell at me for?" I snapped, and then I regretted it as he flinched a bit at my tone. It wasn't that he physically flinched like he was backing down from me, but I could see his little flash of hurt at the sharp tone, a little flick of his eyes that most people wouldn't notice. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You just freaked me out. What was wrong?"

"I had one of your presents out to wrap it, and if you'd come in, you would have seen it. I didn't mean to scare you," he added, smiling. "Are those for me, or aren't you going to let me have them now?" he teased, smiling, looking at the roses I was holding.

"Yeah, they're for you. My best friend who's always there for me." I sort of shot the words out at him and talked more to the third button on his shirt than I did to him, and handed him the flowers. I ventured to look him in the eyes, and he smiled at me, a sweet, emotional smile, and hugged me.

"I always will be, honey," he said, moving back. "Come on, let's go inside," he suggested, and I was more than happy to go into our apartment. There was Christmas music on the stereo, and the remnants of Timmy's wrapping project on the coffee table. Our usually pristine living room was strewn with rolls of wrapping paper, fragments of ribbon, and an assortment of bags from various mall stores. "Don't think you're going to figure out where your presents came from by these bags," he said. "Detective Strachey," he added, winking at me as he started picking them up. I put the flowers in some water and joined him. Between the two of us, we had the scraps cleaned up in no time.

"There are a lot of presents under the tree," I said, quickly counting nine packages.

"Not all of them are yours, honey," he replied, chuckling. I guess I did look like a greedy little kid standing there, almost salivating at the stash. I felt a little guilty for that, but I have to admit that I always loved opening presents - there's nothing like that feeling when you're a kid and you dive into the loot and get up to your ears in wrapping paper while you're ripping open packages. It had been so long since I'd had that experience that I guess I was going a little overboard with my enthusiasm. I'd gotten a few presents here and there from guys I dated long enough that we exchanged gifts, but it was usually one modest little gift, and then most of the time it was something they thought I should want rather than anything I really cared about.

"Your packages look like the ones they have on display in the stores," I said, not at all surprised that Timothy's packages looked like his sandwiches, the way he arranged food on a plate, the way he made a crummy bouquet look pretty, or just the way he effortlessly and routinely put himself together even for a quiet day at home. Beautiful, stunning, elegant...

"Seven of the packages are for my baby," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind, kissing my cheek. "Because once I got started shopping for you I couldn't stop." He kissed me again, hugging me. "One of them is for Mr. Ellerbee, and one of them is Cora's snowman figurine," he added, kissing me again. I was loving the attention and in no hurry to move out of his arms. I couldn't remember the last time someone just hugged and kissed me like that, just because, just for love. Well, I could remember the last time Timmy did it, but before him... I closed my eyes and soaked it up. I was trying to be done with thinking about the past.

"About Cora," I said, suddenly remembering I had something to tell him.

"What about her?"

"I kind of invited her to come over for dinner on Christmas. I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, but since we were having dinner with Mr. Ellerbee anyway... She's gonna be on her own..."

"That's fine, Don," he said, and I could feel the smile on his face as his cheek moved against mine. He was still holding me, but then I was holding onto his arms where they crossed over my chest. I don't think he could have let go if he wanted to. He didn't seem to want to. "We'll have plenty of food, and it's kind of nice to think of having a little dinner party for our first Christmas together."

"You're great, you know that?"

"I am?"

"Yeah, you are." I finally let him go, but only so I could turn around and face him. "You have the whole day off Christmas Eve, right?"

"Yes."

"Any plans for that day?"

"Uh, well, I was kind of thinking we'd be spending it together..." He looked at me suspiciously. "You're not going to follow some cheating housewife around that day, are you?"

"No." I slid my arms around his middle, pulling him close so were nose to nose. "I'm going to sleep in late with my beautiful partner, spend every minute of the day with him, and then, I'm taking him out for the evening, before we go to Midnight Mass."

"Where are we going? Or is it a secret?"

"Well, I'll tell you we have dinner reservations at Carnevale," I told him, and I was rewarded with his face lighting up at that. "A really good table, near the fireplace, where you like it."

"And then?"

"And then, that's for me to know and you to find out."

"Dancing?" he prodded.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I teased.

"Don, come on, you know this'll drive me crazy."

"I know," I said, grinning. "You'll only be in suspense a couple days."

"That's two days too long," he said, kissing the end of my nose. "And you did entice me with telling me you had a bag of presents for me."

"Oh, and you wrapping mine and making me look at them for two days isn't torture?"

"Is it? Gee, I hadn't thought of that," he said, smiling sweetly.

"Like hell," I said, kissing him, swatting his butt playfully as I went into the bedroom to change my clothes.

"I'll make the sandwiches while you change," he called after me.

"I love you," I called back, and smiled as I heard his soft laughter from the other room. My days were dwindling to wrap his presents, so I figured I'd take some time out the next day to do that. I'd looked longingly at the gift wrapping services in the stores and the community groups that were wrapping gifts in the middle of the mall to raise money for their causes, but I had a feeling Timmy would rather get something I wrapped myself that didn't look so hot than to get a bunch of picture-perfect packages that could be in a store window.

We feasted on the delicious sub sandwiches, cuddled up on the couch, watching the movies I'd rented for us. In old sweats and socks, playing footsy with Timothy, laughing and talking about the movies, I couldn't think of any better place to be. I wondered if other married people were that happy. We weren't married yet, but no words we could say or party we could have would make me feel more married to him than I already did. He had my heart, and I had his, and neither one of us were going anywhere. It had taken me a while to embrace that belief, but I was getting there, and I didn't feel trapped... I felt secure.

********

"Fuck. Shit!" I sat back in the kitchen chair and stared at the bottle of cologne in its cylindrical container. It smelled great - just the thought of what it would smell like on Timothy had gotten me the beginnings of a hard on when I was sniffing it at the counter in the store - but the damn container was a bitch to wrap, and in my quest to do it myself, I'd turned down having it wrapped at the store. Now it was lying on the table on its side, on top of a crinkled sheet of gold foil wrapping paper that I'd repositioned so many times it was beginning to disintegrate. I looked over at the tree and all the lovely packages under it. Then I looked at the two boxes I'd wrapped. They didn't look too bad. It's not rocket science, taping up the ends of a shirt box. It was these fucking weird gifts that showed up amateurs like me.

I'd wrapped two gifts and it was already noon. Of course, the fact I'd slept in until eleven didn't help. My body knew I had the day off, and it also knew it was happily sated after having some great morning sex with Timmy before he left for work. So after he left, I'd had lots of good intentions to get up and get started, but then I'd rolled over, buried my face in Timmy's pillow and proceeded to snore my way through three more hours.

Finally deciding that I had to think outside the box, literally, with this one, I wrapped it like a piece of candy, twisting the ends of the paper and tying them with ribbon. It actually looked kind of cool, and I doubted the sprayer would leak being on its side a day or so. I was pretty satisfied with myself for finding stuff I thought he'd like, but then I'd get this cold stone in the pit of my stomach when I'd imagine that he'd secretly hate all of it and just be his usual polite, charming self as he pretended to like it.

I got him a dark gray sweater with an argyle pattern on the front that zipped. He usually took off his jacket and tie, and pulled on a sweater of some sort around the apartment. I liked this one, and I thought it would look good on him. Of course, picking something that will look good on Timothy really doesn't narrow the selection much. God, he's so fucking edible he even looked sexy in that stupid reindeer sweater he wore to go get the tree. I found a gray shirt I thought was a nice business color, and I couldn't remember seeing him wear anything that color. It had a fine embossed stripe in it, and it just seemed classy, like Timothy. Of course, maybe he hated gray and that's why he never wore it. Oh, well, there was only one way to learn those things about each other.

Next, I picked out the cologne, and then I wandered aimlessly through Barnes & Noble, wanting to get him some books because I know he loves to read - he's always got something in progress on the night stand or lying around the living room someplace. I don't listen enough when he talks politics to figure out what he'd like in that area, and I sure wouldn't attempt browsing the religious and inspirational sections to pick something out for a ex-seminarian.

A thoughtful salesman suggested a gift card, and while I wanted things to be more personal than that, I knew he'd have fun spending a gob of money on himself he might not ordinarily to pick some things out, so I got him a $100 gift card. Maybe I could tag along and hold down a table for us in their coffee shop and guzzle some overpriced coffee and read the paper while he loaded up on the goodies. Hopefully by next Christmas I'd be savvy enough to buy him something.

I got him a wood toucan with the bridge of its nose carved out to serve as a holder for his glasses. Yes, I wanted to crack him up, and I figured that would do it. I wandered around the engraving store looking for something for his desk, but then I'd already gotten him the paperweight, so I ended up scrapping that plan. Plus, I already had something engraved for him to give him Christmas Eve, something special, and I didn't want to muddy it up with getting a bunch of engraved stuff.

I was still kind of wanting to get him something for his office, since he'd gotten such a big promotion, and he was kind of the talk of the Albany political circuit because he was so young for the job. And he was so damn good at it, though he was too modest to recognize that as a reason that he was generating some buzz in the "industry." I'd only met Congressman Donovan once, but I could see why he needed Timmy. I liked the guy - he was loud, back-slapping, hand-shaking, beer-drinking and occasionally coarse, but he cared about what he was doing and he took his role as a public servant seriously. He needed someone cultured, refined, soft-spoken and just damned classy to spin his PR and manage his staff, and Timothy fit the bill. Where he was impatient and sometimes loud and overbearing, Timothy was perfectly mannered, socially skilled, and always knew what to say to smooth ruffled feathers.

I'd finally wound up at this little kiosk that was selling hand-carved religious items allegedly from Jerusalem. Obviously, not being an art expert, I had no clue if they were really from Jerusalem, but the older guy selling them seemed to be Middle Eastern, so I took it at face value. I felt weird getting Timmy something religious, since I'm definitely not much of a church and Bible and holy kind of guy. Really, Timmy wasn't either, but his faith ran very deep, even if he didn't say much about it. I guess if you even get to the point of considering being a priest, your religion has to be pretty important. Or, you're running from something and looking for a place to hide, but that wasn't Timmy's nature. He faced things head on, and one thing he didn't do was hide. It was one of the things about him that nourished my soul - there were no pretenses and no closets. Timothy loved me, we were a couple, we were gay men, and if the world didn't like that, they could go fuck themselves

That having been said, I wondered if the rosaries I was looking at would spontaneously combust or something if I picked one up.

"Those are made of rosewood," the old man said, his voice thickly accented. "The scent of roses never goes away," he added, smiling. I sniffed the rosary. I'll be damned, it did smell like roses. I was almost positive Timmy didn't have one of those. I knew he had a rosary. I had seen it around the bedroom - on the dresser or on the night stand. I wondered if he'd think it was weird, me getting him something like that. Maybe he'd finally quit worrying that my head was going to spin around backwards if he took me into a church.

"Do you have a gift box?" I asked, and the deed was done.

With most everything wrapped, I opened the small flat tie box where I'd put the confirmation for our Hawaii tickets, and reservations at a much more expensive resort than we'd planned. The last retainer, the one I'd gotten my ass kicked for, had given me enough to upgrade our accommodations from a nice hotel on the beach to a resort with our own private little cabin, that also had our own outdoor pool. I know he probably wondered why I was working like a fiend and still perpetually short on money, but I wanted him to know that our honeymoon was not only a done deal, but that it was going to be unforgettable and beautiful...yeah, kinda like him.

Grinning, I wrapped the last package and then cleaned up the destruction I'd created in the apartment with paper, scraps, ribbons, etc. I added my items under the tree an d resisted the urge to touch, lift, weigh, pinch, or shake my gifts. Early on, Timmy and I built our relationship on trust, and if he wanted to tease me, but not spoil the surprises, then I would play along.

There were a pile of Christmas cards on the counter in the kitchen, and I finally picked them up and sorted through them. Timmy had told me about them, asked me to look through them sometime when I had a chance, since he wanted to put them up somewhere. I couldn't figure why he'd think I'd want to read a bunch of cards from strangers who wrote to him, but the detective in me finally figured out that by reading them, I'd not only learn some things about the people in his life, but he was also opening up any personal correspondence for me to look at without reservation. I did notice that right off - there were no cards he stashed or read and put away. They were all there. Of course, I'm not always here when he brings in the mail, but still, I didn't have reason to think he was hiding anything.

I began noticing a trend. Every card was addressed to Tim or Timothy Callahan and Don Strachey. Frowning, I kept searching the stack for the cards that were just for him, but there weren't any - well, there were two in the shaky script of ancient relatives who probably didn't remember my name or didn't approve of him having a boyfriend. Otherwise, almost every card congratulated us on our engagement, wished us well, expressed eagerness to meet me... I couldn't believe I was tearing up looking through this pile of cards that had become a sort of nemesis for me, lurking on the kitchen counter in plain sight, showing me up as a lazy, insensitive clod for not doing as Timmy asked when he asked a week ago, and reading them.

There were some from social acquaintances he seemed to know through his business, a few former fellow seminarians - a couple of whom were priests now - a score of Callahans and O'Connors who all seemed related somehow, and a few other assorted neighbors and friends. I was part of all of it. Just like that. No wonder writing out the cards had taken the poor guy an eternity. He'd told them all about me. About us. That we were a couple.

So I sat at the kitchen table and read every one of them, even the god-awful Christmas letters that some of them saw fit to tuck into their cards. I tackled it like I tackled researching a case. I used it to learn all I could about the people he cared enough to send cards to, and those who cared enough about him to answer. These people would be at the wedding, and I was going to make Timmy proud for having included me like he had. I was going to ask Aunt Millie how her hip replacement was doing, I was going to remember the names of his cousins and their families. I wasn't just going to skim read these things, I was going to learn them.

********

I have a love-hate relationship with surprises. The suspense drives me up the wall, but if it's a good surprise, I love that moment of revelation. I had to admit that I was somewhat distracted by trying to figure out what else Donald had up his sleeve for Christmas Eve. And I was dying to know what he got me. The day had seemed especially long because I knew he was at home, and I'd always rather be there with him than in my office, trying to focus on all the last minute stuff that needed to be done before Christmas. I had the week between Christmas and New Year's off, with the understanding I could be called in if there was something urgent going on. Congressman Donovan knew my mother was coming to town to see me and meet Don, and he was very nice about granting my request to be off a week, even though I hadn't been working for him all that long. He told me I'd done about a year's worth of work in a month or so, and I knew from what I'd found that his last chief of staff wasn't the most ambitious soul in the world. Maybe that's why he took a chance on a younger guy like me - to get some energy and ambition to work for him.

I unlocked the apartment door and opened it, and was surprised to hear Christmas music playing, see candles on the table, and Don in the kitchen, grilling steaks. There was a big bowl of salad already prepared.

"Glad you're home, sweetheart. The steaks'll be ready in a little bit. If you want to pour, there are martinis in the fridge."

"I'll get them," I said, tossing my briefcase in a chair and taking off my coat. "Ooh, those look good." I checked out the steaks he was solicitously moving about on the little grill.

"I'm not without culinary skills," he said, stealing a kiss when I was close to him.

"You have a lot of outstanding skills, honey. In and out of the kitchen," I added, kissing him back.

We toasted our martinis across our candle lit table, and enjoyed a delicious meal. While I doubted Don would toil in the kitchen for hours over a fancy recipe, he certainly could make a nice salad and grill a mean steak. I was carving off a particularly lovely bite when I noticed the Christmas cards were on a different spot on the counter, and looked like they'd been gone through.

"You read the cards," I said, kind of blurting it out because I was so pleased he'd finally taken an interest in them. I understood why they might be a little on the boring side for him, but I admit I'd felt a little slighted that he hadn't shown any interest in learning anything about my family and friends. After all, he's a detective and there's very little he doesn't want to know about.

"I should have done it a while ago," he admitted. "I didn't know you'd told everybody about us, that the cards were mostly for both of us."

"Donald, you're definitely the biggest development in my life this year - well, ever - so why wouldn't I tell everyone? Most of these people are going to be invited to our wedding."

"I figured that out," he said, reaching over and taking my hand. "I do want to know about your life, about the people who matter to you. I guess I'm still a little new at this couple stuff."

"For somebody who's new at it, you're doing a good job," I replied, squeezing his hand. "Speaking of which, those packages under the tree look pretty festive."

"Yeah, well, they're not fancy, but I guess I did okay."

"More than okay." I'm not sure why I felt emotional right then, but I did. Sometimes it just washes over me how much I love him, and how lucky I am we just happened to meet that night, that he decided to help me, how full my life is with him, and how empty it was - emptier than I realized - without him. I'd had a loving family and a good childhood, but my adult relationships had left a lot to be desired, and Donald wasn't the only one who was just getting used to coming home to someone who loved him, to having someone in his life who treated him like he was something precious. I'd almost accepted that I wasn't going to be treasured and romanced and protected and loved passionately - that I was expecting too much out of boyfriends, or that I somehow just wasn't the kind of guy who inspired that in a partner. I don't mean I thought there was something wrong with me, but I was beginning to think my vision of what love should be just wasn't going to happen.

And then Donald rode in on his rusty little stallion and rescued me. He offered me his love with such a sweet, touching hesitance, almost like he didn't think it, or he, was good enough for me. I hoped he knew just how wonderful he was, and how much he meant to me. I tried to show him as much as I could, but I doubted he realized how much I relied on him. At times he seemed afraid of losing me, but I was just as afraid of losing him. I still am. I can't imagine my life without him, and I don't want to.

This was what I'd always dreamed of, this comfortable love and domesticity, coming home to someone who loved me, finding joy in something mundane, like doing the dishes together, and sitting on the couch just talking about our days, cuddling up, surprised when hours had passed and we'd just been sitting there talking, making out a little.

So I took him to bed and made love to him every way I could think of. Don's so affectionate and giving with me, and I wanted to spend some time just fussing over him, kissing every inch of him, smelling and tasting that silky skin of his, rubbing my cheek against that muscled body that could feel hard if it wasn't encased in raw silk dusted with a bit of gold. If it wasn't so warm, if the heart beneath my ear didn't beat so rapidly and passionately for me when I was loving him. When I was inside him it was like his whole body welcomed me, responded to me...opened up to me with a vulnerability I don't think anyone else ever saw in him. I don't think anyone else has ever seen that in him to this day. It's in his eyes and his touch and his soft smile. I feel like I'm seeing into his soul in those intimate moments, and I treasure the depth of that bond we share.

I was stroking his chest lightly, spooned around him, whispering into his ear about how much I loved him, how good he felt against me. That he completed me...and he does. I wondered how he could come up with anything for Christmas Eve that was better than this.

********

Christmas Eve day started out great. We slept in late, got up and made breakfast together, and then went out to the mall just for the fun of being in the last minute rush. I always think it's fun, immersing myself in the crowds, buying a last minute Christmas present just because it was Christmas Eve. I'm not sure if Donald really saw the lure in all of it, but he did everything to be a good sport, from parking the car and letting me off at the door, to wandering through the stores and buying a marked down wreath I thought we should have for our apartment door. We found some gloves on a half-off sale, thus ending what had been a losing streak when it came to hand wear. They were better than the ones he'd been making do with, and not quite as good as the ones we lost, but they looked nice and our hands were warm. Mission accomplished.

We ate light in the food court, since we had dinner reservations, and he still wouldn't tell me what we were doing between Carnevale and Midnight Mass. We stopped at home and put the wreath on the door, and freshened up for our evening out. There was a little hanky panky between hanging the wreath and going out for dinner, but we were still dressed up in our best suits and topcoats in time to make our reservations.

Dinner was excellent, and we did have one of the best tables in the house, near the fireplace, a bit out of the way. I was surprised when a bottle of champagne was delivered to the table, but Don just smiled at me the way he does when I likes the way I react to something. We toasted our first Christmas together, and all the Christmases we had to look forward to. As much as I loved dinner, I knew the time was dwindling and he couldn't keep his secret much longer. As he opened the car door for me and I got in, I finally cracked.

"Don, you're going to have to tell me where we're going eventually."

"Have patience, beautiful, we'll be there in a few minutes," he replied, laughing softly as he closed the door. It was snowing outside, but it was a beautiful snow. Light and fluffy, dusting the landscape and the people and making everything seem a bit more magical.

Don drove to the park, and after he'd stopped the car and cut the engine, I just looked at him blankly.

"What are we doing here?"

"Come on, you'll find out." He got out of the car and hurried around to my side to open the door. I had my hand on the door handle, but I waited. He was giving me the full treatment, and I didn't want to spoil that. Once I'd stepped out of the car, I shrugged.

"I don't get it. You want to go for a walk?"

"Something like that." He held out his hand, and I took it, and we started walking, though I was almost a bit nervous. It was dark and quiet, and there was no one in sight. People have been mugged in less desolate settings. My jaw dropped when we took a path through some shrubbery and emerged next to a carriage drawn by a large white horse.

"I didn't think the park was doing carriage rides this year," I said, grinning like an idiot. I loved the romance of it all, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend part of Christmas Eve than tucked under a blanket with Don, on a romantic carriage ride in the park with a light snowfall all around us.

"They aren't." He kissed me. "Your carriage awaits, my love," he said, gesturing for me to get in first. So I did, and he got in next to me, covering us both with the big plaid blanket there. The carriage driver urged the horse to begin moving, and we started our slow journey through the park.

"You did this just for us?" I asked him. I didn't have any idea what something like that would cost, but it had to be enough. More so than that, the romance of the gesture just swept me off my feet. "How did you arrange this?"

"When I found out they weren't doing them, I did a little investigating. I'm not without my sources," he added, and it was clear he wasn't interested in really giving me the mundane details. We snuggled together and it was pure magic. The snow on the pine trees, the snow falling, the little jingle of the bells on the horse's harness... "Merry Christmas, Timmy," he said softly, handing me a small, gold foil-wrapped package with a red ribbon tied on it.

"All my presents for you are at home," I said.

"That's okay. This one is...special," he said, watching me with one of those intent looks that means he's hanging on my every reaction, that my reaction is vital to him.

"Any present from you is special," I replied, kissing him. Then I took off my gloves so I could open the little package. Inside it was an old, battered hinged box from a jeweler I'd never heard of. It wasn't just a used box, it looked antique. I opened it carefully, and nestled against a silky lining that was yellowed with age was a pocket watch. It was ornate and beautiful, obviously older than both of us.

"It belonged to my grandfather. My grandmother gave it to him for a wedding present. He always had it with him. Never went anywhere without it. When he died, Grandma gave it to me. We were really close, and when I was little and learning to tell time, he'd take out the watch and do the whole 'when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the three' kind of thing with me. I was always intrigued with it."

"Donald, this is...it's beautiful," I said, in awe. "This has to mean so much to you. I can't take it from you."

"You aren't. I'm giving it to you. Besides, it's yours now. Look on the back." He was smiling.

On the back of the watch was engraved the word "Forever", which looked as if it had been there for the life of the watch. Beneath it, in a similar script but obviously new engraving was "TC +DS." When the engraving seemed blurry, I realized I had tears in my eyes.

"I was going to wait and give it to you as a wedding present, too, but then I thought about all the stuff that'll be going on, and I just thought tonight was...the right time. I love you, Timothy, and you're my family now, and my forever. So I'm not giving the watch away. It'll be with you, and I plan on always being there, too. You make me believe in forever," he added, almost in a whisper.

I hugged him and held onto him, trying not to get carried away with the emotion and cry like a baby. But I suppose it was okay to cry a little, for him to know how much it moved me.

"Donald, it's beautiful, and I will love it until the day I die, just like I will always love you." We kissed, and one led to another, and we missed a good portion of the winter scenery. When the carriage came to a stop, Don hollered at the driver.

"Hey, once more around the park, huh?" And the carriage was in motion again. "I always wanted to say that," he joked.

"I can't believe you risked having this engraved for me."

"It wasn't a big risk. I went to a really good jeweler, impressed on him how important this piece was, and then made sure he saw my holster when I got my wallet out. I waited while he did it." Something about that was so Donald that it made me laugh.

We huddled under the blanket and enjoyed our one more time around the park, holding hands and kissing, accompanied by the sound of jingle bells.

********

The carriage ride was romantic, and I was glad Timmy liked the watch. It was the only personal possession I had that carried that kind of sentimental value, and had family history. I just wanted him to know that my future and my sense of family was all tied up in him now, and the watch was the best way I knew to express that.

The warmth of the church felt good after freezing my nuts off in that carriage. I mean, it was lovely and Timothy loved it, but riding around in a carriage when it's in the twenties is an odd form of torture for me. Still, I did draw his body heat and managed to survive, and it was worth it to romance him like that.

We sat about halfway back, on the end of a long pew. There were a lot of families there, and truthfully, that's the thing that would have kept me away from a church on a holiday before I met Timothy. Sitting alone on the end of a pew like some kind of homeless guy that just wandered in to get warm. I was with him, it was making him happy to be there, and we were singing some Christmas carols together and doing something traditional on a holiday. And Timothy makes me believe that God does care about us, too, even if we're gay and the Church thinks we're sinners. He's convinced that no human can know the true mind and heart of God, and if He made us, He loves us. Just the way we are. One time, several years later, Timmy told me that there were times he felt the Church interfered with his relationship with God, and that was one of the things that factored into his decision to leave the seminary. Well, that and the fact he wouldn't fall in line with their teachings on homosexuality. He would have upheld the vow of celibacy, but he wasn't about to go around teaching that being gay is a sin, that homosexuals needed "saving."

Personally, I was extremely happy that vow of celibacy wasn't in force. Once I'd met Timothy, I'd have had to have him eventually or go mad, and I imagine there's some kind of special corner of hell for those who lure celibate priests into sin and debauchery.

When we got home, we shed our dressy clothes and put warm robes on over our underwear and turned up the heat a bit. Since Timmy doesn't feel the cold the way I do, and we like keeping our bills low, we usually keep it cool in the apartment, but both of us were pretty chilled from being outside so much, and a little warmth made it seem cozier. It was going on two in the morning, but our guests weren't going to arrive until the next afternoon, so we didn't worry about the time.

Struck with a sudden inspiration, I left Timothy briefly to go down to our storage area in the basement. When I returned a few minutes later with the futon cushion, and suggested we put it by the Christmas tree, he was delighted with that idea and rounded up blankets and pillows for us. We lay there in the multi-colored glow of the tree lights, all our other lights off. We wiggled around and took off our underwear under the covers, and began making love. I can't think of anything better under the tree than a naked Timothy, lying there on his stomach, all relaxed and wanting me. I disappeared under the covers so I could kiss my way up his legs to his beautiful ass to his shoulders, before I took my time getting him ready, playing with him, teasing his prostate, making him make the most sexy little noises in the back of his throat.

We were sleepy in the sweet afterglow, kissing and caressing each other, letting ourselves drift. We were reluctant to let go of any part of our first Christmas, but falling asleep in each other's arms next to our Christmas tree was one tradition I hoped we'd repeat. It only got better in the coming years, until we finally made love in front of our first fireplace, in our first house, in the glow of firelight and Christmas lights.

********

One advantage to sleeping under the tree is that you don't have to go far to dig into your presents on Christmas morning. I was happily dozing yet, but I could feel Donald's body starting to wriggle and almost vibrate because he was awake and waiting for me to join him. I opened my eyes and smiled, because there was something in that happy, eager expression of his that looked like a little boy waiting to tear into the loot.

"Merry Christmas," I said, and we kissed.

"I thought you'd never wake up," he said, and I laughed. It was light outside, and I suppose it was a bit chilly on the floor, but we were all wrapped around each other and tucked under blankets. He started kissing my neck and nuzzling me, moving down to kiss my chest.

"Honey, if you want to open presents, this isn't the strategy," I said, smiling, enjoying the feeling of his lips on me.

"I'm opening my favorite present right now," he said, kissing his way back up to my mouth. "You smell so good," he said against my mouth.

"You're not too shabby yourself," I replied, wrapping him in my arms and rolling us over so I was on top of him. "I love the watch, honey. I just want you to know that."

"I'm glad," he said, with a big smile.

"It's my second favorite gift this year." I waited for the inevitable question, though I suspect he already knew the answer. But it was a good excuse to lavish him with a little more affection, and it both moved me and saddened me a little at times how hungry he seemed for that. It didn't have to be sex or leading there. Sometimes what Donald seemed to want and need the most was to feel loved, to be held or kissed or touched just because he was loved.

"You haven't opened the rest of your stuff, so how do you know there's something better in the rest of the stash?" He had that twinkle in his eye, so he was playing along. He knew what I was working up to.

"You're my favorite present, not just this year, but in my whole life, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." He gaped at me a moment, and I guess I had taken him by surprise. I took myself a little by surprise, but those words were true. I'd had a lot of good things in my life - a good family, a good home, some good friends and special experiences - but none of them came close to the gift I had in my arms at that moment. Donald made me feel things in a way no one else ever had, and he'd made every fantasy I ever had about love or romance or commitment pale in comparison to the reality of what we had.

"I hope I can always be the kind of husband to you so you'll always feel that way," he said, and there was a little fear in those words, like he still worried he'd let me down somehow.

"You will be," I said, kissing his cheek. "Just be you, and keep loving me like you do."

"I can do that." He hugged me hard, and I hugged back, and then I started kissing him. His lips, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, until we were both laughing.

"How about if I start some coffee while you warm up the shower?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, and we got up, shivering a little and each grabbing one of the blankets to wrap around our naked bodies. He headed for the shower and I started the coffee, eager to join him under the warm water.

After playing around in the shower a bit, we got dressed in jeans and warm sweaters and with our fresh coffee in hand, settled in the living room to start opening our goodies. We sat on the futon cushion on the floor so we could get down to business like two little kids turned loose on Christmas morning.

I opened a large flat box first, and found a gray argyle cardigan inside. It's not that I didn't think Don had good enough taste to choose something nice, but it was how much I liked the sweater that actually surprised me. I've been told I'm finicky and hard to buy for (yes, that was Steve again, how'd you guess?), and it's probably true. I'm picky about my clothes and if they don't fit right or I don't like the style, they end up on their way to the nearest clothing drive (or back to the store if I can get away with it without the gift giver finding out). God bless whoever invented gift receipts.

Anyway, I took the sweater off I was wearing and tried it on over my shirt. I was in love. It became my favorite sweater to slip into when I got home from work. All these years later, it's looking a bit peaked, but I still love it. Donald has politely tried to replace it a couple times, and I wear those sweaters, too, but my gray argyle that he got me for our first Christmas still makes regular appearances for chilly evenings at home.

I watched him open the first of my gifts to him. It was cologne. He seemed to like it when he sniffed the sprayer and then spritzed a bit on. I thought the light, fresh scent was perfect for him. Smelling it on him made me want to lock the doors, ignore our guests, and ravish him on the futon cushion all day long. Oh, well, tomorrow was another day...

He wouldn't let me open the next box I chose, so I moved on to the odd looking one that was a cylinder tied with ribbon on each end. The package was a bit god-awful - it apparently hadn't occurred to him to use a new piece of wrapping paper when this one started to fall apart from repeated wrapping efforts - but I loved that he'd suffered the tortures of wrapping it himself. I found a really nice cologne inside, and we laughed a bit at our "great minds think alike" moment. I loved the scent, and once I'd sprayed a little on, he insisted on sniffing me. The locked door and the futon cushion was looking better by the moment. Still, I had a pre-cooked glazed ham to heat up and side dishes to make and two guests arriving in a couple hours. I'm nothing if I'm not a good host.

The next gift he opened from me was a big box, and honestly, watching him tear into it, I could picture a five-year-old Donald ripping the paper off some nifty toy he'd been wanting. Watching him open presents always makes you think what's inside couldn't possibly live up to the excitement he invests in digging into them. He's either a great actor or I know him well enough to buy him things that do. I suspect it's a bit of both. Either way, he knows how much I love him, and that anything I pick out, I pick out with that love.

He pulled the leather coat out of the box and stroked it, awestruck. I'd saved up for this, and I almost made him wait until the end to open it, but I honestly couldn't wait any longer to see his reaction.

"Timothy, it's beautiful," he said, his voice a little faint with shock.

"I'm glad you like it. I think it'll look great on you. I hope it fits."

"One way to find out." He got up and so did I, taking the coat and holding it for him. He smiled at that and slipped his arms into it. "Shit, did you measure me while I was asleep or something?" he joked, as the sleeves fell exactly where they should, and the coat fit him like it was tailor-made.

"Let's just say I've studied your body in painstaking detail," I responded.

"Honey, it's great, but it had to cost you and arm and a leg."

"I saved up. I knew I wanted to get you something special, but I didn't really know what until I was Christmas shopping and I saw these coats, and I thought about how handsome you'd look. And it's one way I can keep you warm even when I'm not with you."

"I love it," he said, hugging me. The scent of leather, Donald, and the new cologne...dear God, why did we invite anyone over? I reluctantly released him. He was sex on legs in that coat. I wondered if he'd mind having sex wearing nothing but the coat? Then I wondered if I'd go to hell for having a thought like that on Christmas Day.

"You look great in it." He must have picked up on the lust in my voice, because he smiled knowingly.

"Have a little thing for leather, do we?" he teased.

"No. But apparently I have a little thing for you in leather."

"We'll have to explore this further," he said, taking off the coat and laying it on the couch as if it were made of crystal. He stroked the lapel again. "I never felt leather that soft."

"I'm glad you like it, honey," I said.

"Open another one," he urged me, sitting on the floor with me again. I chose a small box that looked like it might be jewelry or some kind of trinket. As I started opening it, I noticed how nervous he looked.

"It's not those snakes that pop out when you open the container, is it?" I joked, and he laughed, a bit of his tension broken.

"It's okay if you don't like it. I don't really know much about picking out this kind of stuff, but I thought you might like it."

"If you picked it out for me, I'm sure I'll like it." It's not that Don has never picked out a turkey of a gift in all our years together, but he's never presented me with anything that he didn't pick out with love, that he didn't put thought into. So I've worn a few pieces of clothing I probably wouldn't have picked out myself, and I've read a few books that didn't really fascinate me, but I would never dampen that sweet, sincere spirit of his for anything. He hangs on my reactions when I open his gifts, and I'm sure by now he knows when I'm really excited and when I'm kind of faking it a bit, but hurting each other is never worth the few bucks you'd get from returning something that was chosen with such love. This gift stunned me a bit, but I loved it. I would have never expected a rosary from Don, and I didn't expect the scent of roses.

"It's rosewood. It's supposed to always smell like roses...forever."

"It's beautiful," I said, sniffing it more intently now. "It never wears off?"

"Nope. Well, not according to the guy who was selling it. He also said it's from Jerusalem, but besides him being Middle Eastern, I don't know if that's true or not. I figured you'd know if it was the real thing." I thought it was sweet that he thought I'd know just by looking at it.

"You know, it doesn't matter if it's from Jerusalem." I touched his cheek. "It's from you, and that's what I care about. This really means a lot to me, honey," I said, taking his hand. I couldn't really put it in words, but the fact he got me something related to my faith, like a rosary...it made me feel like he respected it, that he was acknowledging it as a part of me. That he didn't think my "prayer beads" were silly. (No, that remark was from Andrew. Steve's family was Catholic, too, and maybe he thought he'd go to hell if he made fun of my rosary.)

"Even when I don't get around to bringing you roses, maybe when you smell this you'll remember that I wish I could surround you with them all the time, because you deserve that...and so much more than I can give you."

"Hey," I said, taking his face in my hands, "I have you. I just hope I'm worthy of the way you love me." And it was true. He was always so good to me, so devoted to me, and so in love with me...I wondered if any flawed human should be worthy of such adoration.

"You are," he said, kissing my hands, grinning at me.

"Go for it," I said, urging him to grab another gift. It was partly selfish, because I loved to watch him open presents. He's so damn cute when he tears into them. I tend to slide the ends open to go about it neatly. Not Donald. He rips the paper off with a kind of joy I seemed to lose somewhere after about my sixth or seventh birthday. So now he was subjecting the next package to the rip-and-shred method. He opened the box and took out the name plate for his desk. I'd noticed he didn't have one, and it didn't surprise me when his business was struggling at times that he hadn't invested in fancy desk accessories. This was a solid piece of oak with a brass plate on it, engraved with "Donald Strachey, Private Investigator" on it. "I thought it would look nice on your desk."

"Yeah, it'll class up the place a little," he said, smiling. "Make me look more professional."

Damn, he took it the wrong way. Like I didn't think he was classy enough or professional enough.

"It's not that. I just...I thought it was something you probably wouldn't splurge on for yourself."

"What?" he looked up from examining it.

"I didn't think you weren't professional enough without it," I said, which was clumsier now and making it worse. Damn, damn, damn. I'd ruined Christmas.

"Honey, what are you talking about? I love it. I think it'll look great on my desk and I shoulda had one of these a long time ago. You're right, I just didn't think to get one for myself. Did you think I was offended or something?"

"Well, yes...no...you didn't say anything wrong, I just thought maybe I'd...overstepped by getting you something for your office. You probably have it the way you like it."

"We're getting married in a couple months, sweetheart. You're welcome anywhere in my life - you're not overstepping anything. Why wouldn't I want something from you on my desk? Well, besides the 8x10 I spend more time looking at than my case files. Now shut up and open another present."

I opened a shirt box this time, and to no great surprise, found a shirt in it. It was a nice shirt, a Ralph Lauren. I wished in a way he didn't feel like he had to find the right label to buy me a shirt. Another part of me loved him for spending much more than he probably thought it was worth, and for caring enough to look at the labels in my clothes to see what I liked. The shirt itself was elegant and subtle, a medium gray with an embossed stripe.

"Don, I love it! It'll be perfect with my dark gray pinstripe suit. I know just what I'm going to wear it for when I go back to work. I'm going with Sean to a charity luncheon - five hundred dollars a plate - and this is perfect." Congressman Donovan had no patience with titles, and felt his chief of staff should be more like his business partner. He'd insisted I call him Sean from the first day we worked together. He'd joked that we were just two good old Irish boys, and we didn't need to stand on ceremony.

"Five hundred bucks? Do they pour liquid gold over the rubber chicken breast?"

"Probably just some flavorless white sauce," I replied, laughing. One thing I'm fussy about with every event I plan is the food. Feed guests a tasteless blob of chicken, and you'll get a tasteless blob of a donation. Make the food good and for the drinkers, the alcohol better, and you'll be raking in the bucks and turning people away from the next event.

"You'd really wear it to that fancy event?"

"Honey, it's a beautiful shirt and I love the color. It's a color, but yet it's subtle and classy... sometimes white is just too uptight."

He seemed pleased with that, and then dug into another one of his gifts. This one was a little heater that you could set on the dashboard of your car that would either hook up to the cigarette lighter or run on batteries. I'd included enough batteries for two times, since I had no clue if the cigarette lighter worked or not.

"This is gonna be a lifesaver," he said, taking it out of the box, immediately opening up the batteries and obviously needing to test it right then. I like gadgets, but I can usually wait to try them out. But there was that little kid in Don, who had to open up the thing that does something and put the batteries in it and watch it work, right there, under the tree. God, I love him so much. As the little heater chugged to life with the batteries in it, and began blowing a feeble stream of warm air, he held his hand over it, grinning. "Puts out more heat than all the vents in my car combined."

"I just hate the thought of you sitting outside in a cold car all night."

"When you're waiting for me here in our bed, I'm not too crazy about that, either, but work is work. Thanks, honey, this is great." He set it next to him, and it was on the tip of my tongue to suggest he turn it off to save the batteries, but it was his new toy, and if he wanted it on, so be it.

I opened the next one of my gifts and pulled out a gift card from Barnes & Noble. Before I met him, I used to practically own stock there, camping out in their coffee shop and reading my way through more than one long Sunday. Frankly, Steve and his football marathons didn't hold much lure, and when I was alone, sitting in my apartment wasn't all that much fun. I like being around people, so hanging out there was a nice change of pace. Now I'd rather spend any time off we both have with Don, but when he's working, I still haunt Barnes & Noble and work on my laptop or read until my eyes are crossed.

"This is great! There are a couple new books I've been dying to pick up."

"Maybe we can go there this weekend," he suggested. "I can read the papers or something while you pick out some goodies."

"You'd go with me? I'd love that!"

"Me, too," he replied, chuckling at my enthusiasm.

"I thought it would bore you."

"I like to read. And you never bore me."

"Yes, Don, I do - every time I talk politics."

"Okay, so sometimes stuff you talk about bores me, but you don't."

Well, I guess I asked for that brutal honesty, and the logic was pure Donald.

"Open a present before you talk yourself into sleeping on this thing tonight." I pointed at the futon cushion under us. "Alone," I said, and he laughed, giving me a mock-cringe.

The next package he opened was a blue sweater I'd gotten him. I was trying to match his eyes, but they were such a pristine, perfect blue that it was tricky. So I settled for bringing out his eyes, which this crew-neck pullover did perfectly. It was thick, and it would keep him warm.

"Nice color," he said, falling right into my trap.

"I couldn't quite find one that exactly matches those beautiful eyes of yours, but this one brings them out nicely."

He smiled back at me, and took off the sweater he had on so he could put on the new one. "This one's warmer," he said, looking as if that made him quite happy. I feared he'd probably get a sweater from my mother, too, if she'd had time to knit one between when I met him and now, and my mother's sweaters...well, they're not bad, exactly, but you would only choose them for certain occasions. Like when you were going to be home all day and she was visiting.

I opened my next gift, and laughed out loud when I pulled the little wood toucan glasses holder out of the box. I took off my glasses and tucked them in the designated spot on the bridge of the bird's substantial beak.

"They look better on you," Don said. 

"Thank God!" I responded, laughing. "If they make my nose look that big, we're going to the eyeglass place in the mall first thing tomorrow."

"Your nose is perfect," he said, smiling at me as I put my glasses back on. I kissed him.

"Good answer. At least I'll know where my glasses are if I keep him on the night stand."

"Last ones," he said, holding up his final gift.

"Well, have at it," I urged, getting my one more chance to watch him dive into a present. It was just a shirt, a nice berry colored shirt that would look good with his coloring. I like blonds in dramatic colors like berry or black. And Don was one hot blond. He seemed to develop a liking for the deep berry tones after I bought him that shirt, so it was a good investment. He looked delicious in that color.

"You think this color is good on me?" he said, holding it up under his chin.

"I could shove you back on the floor and fuck you until you screamed for mercy. Does that answer your question?"

"Good color on me, I got it," he said, laughing, laying the shirt aside. "Well, go for it, Timmy. It's my big finale."

"You know that nothing else will mean more to me than the watch, right?"

"I know," he said, smiling, nodding a little. "But trust me, you'll like this."

I opened the flat box that looked like a tie box. I was trying to figure out what kind of tie could be so amazing that it would be the finale of our first Christmas. Of course, there were ties expensive enough for that. I just couldn't picture Don unloading that kind of money on one, when we were saving for our honeymoon.

"Don...what have you done?" I asked, reading the confirmation papers for our airline tickets and reservations at a resort I could have only dreamed about us staying in for our honeymoon.

"I wanted you to be able to relax and look forward to our wedding and the honeymoon and know it was a done deal. I love you, sweetheart."

I hugged him and held onto him, still trying to figure how he'd swung this. Then I remembered the last case, the beating he'd taken, and him mentioning the retainer... I pulled back and looked at him, troubled.

"What's wrong?"

"How did you manage this?"

"It's why I've been working so much but not much money has come into our joint account. I've been siphoning off honeymoon funding. And the increase in my last retainer cinched the deal."

"But...but that's the case where you got hurt."

"I was gonna get hurt on that case anyway, so we might as well make good use of the money. Besides, when I went back to the asshole who didn't bother to mention his wife's boyfriend was a dealer, I impressed on him that I needed a hell of a lot bigger retainer for combat pay. The extra money put me over the top just in time for Christmas."

"But it feels like we're taking this trip off money you had to suffer for."

"Honey, I was going to get worked over anyway. Think of it as something good coming out of something bad."

"If you hadn't been trying to save up for this, would you have even taken that case?" I knew when he hesitated that I'd hit on the truth. Don has good instincts, and he's nobody's fool. He took a risk with his safety to get the money he needed to make the trip a reality. There's no destination on earth that means enough to me to go to that I'd want to see a single scratch on him to make it possible.

"Timothy, please, it's a done deal. Just have fun with it. I wanted to do this for you - for us - and sometimes I get roughed up on the job. It's an occupational hazard. Even if I took a little more of a chance to make some money faster, it's not like we can reverse the beating if we don't go on the trip."

"I know, and I love you for this, for wanting to do this so much that you'd risk your safety over it. Please, don't ever risk your safety for a thing, or a trip...for anything if you can avoid it. I can't wait to go on this beautiful trip with you, but it's not worth a single bruise on your precious body, nothing is. There's nothing money can buy that's worth anyone hurting you at all, I mean that."

"I know you do," he said, his voice sounding strained. "I just wanted to do this so much, and that did the trick. It was worth it to me."

I took him in my arms and held him, closing my eyes, trying not to think too much about him being beaten and his life threatened to get us a better honeymoon. I also didn't want to overdo scolding him for it.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely coming out at all. "Please, baby, don't ever put yourself in danger for anything you think I might want, because all I want is you, and every bruise on you hurts me."

"Okay, I promise. But since I've already got the reservations, we're gonna go, right?"

"Yes, yes, we're gonna go," I confirmed, laughing, hugging him close.

********

We had fun getting our Christmas dinner ready, dancing around the kitchen a few times to Christmas songs on the radio, sampling the food as we prepared it. Don had tidied up the living room while I got started on the cooking, and now we were working together. Mr. Ellerbee arrived a little early, carrying the huge Hickory Farms food box he'd promised to bring to share for our hors d'ouevres. As he and Don rhapsodized over the three foot long beef stick and the assorted cheese logs, I left preparing the appetizers to them. They laboriously sliced and arranged everything neatly on a couple of plates and set them in the living room on the coffee table.

Cora arrived at one sharp, carrying a pumpkin spice pie that smelled like a slice of heaven. I don't know why I felt as blue as I did when I set it in the kitchen. Maybe an older woman carrying a pie made me think a bit too much of my mother and home. I was so happy, and yet, it was the first Christmas since I was born that I wasn't with my parents and grandparents. Satisfied the food was okay for a few minutes and our guests were chatting in the living room over a nice wine and the snacks, I slipped into the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed. I felt like a sap, but I felt so homesick that I started to cry.

It didn't surprise me when Don came in and sat next to me, or when he just let me put my head on his shoulder and put his arms around me while I pulled myself together.

"Don, I - "

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. You miss your folks," he said gently, rubbing my back. "It's okay."

"This Christmas has been the best one of my life."

"Mine, too," he said, smiling, hugging me. "But it's okay to miss your mom and dad, and going home."

"I love you," I said, sniffling.

"I love you, too. And your mom'll be here in a couple days."

"I know. You probably think I'm a whiny little mama's boy." I snorted, none too elegantly. He handed me a couple of tissues and I blew my nose.

"No, I don't think that. I think you love your family and it hurts being away from them at Christmas. That's all."

"How did you handle it? The years when you were alone at Christmas? I feel so homesick right now, and I have so much to be happy about, and I am happy..."

"You live through what you have to live through, I guess. It was all worth it to make it here, to be with you."

"It wouldn't be Christmas without you."

"I know, honey." He kissed my temple and rubbed my shoulder. "How does that song go? You are the angel that tops my tree?" he sang the line to me, and that almost made me cry more, it was so sweet. So I sang him the next line.

"You are my dream come true."

"Santa can't bring me what I need," he continued.

"'Cause all I want for Christmas is you," we sang together, and then started laughing. We sat there together a minute, letting me get my emotions in check, and we listened to Cora and Mr. Ellerbee chatting and laughing in the living room.

"Sounds like they're hitting it off," I said.

"I was kind of hoping they might," Don replied, smiling.

"You were matchmaking?"

"Not exactly, but Cora mentioned a while ago that it's hard to meet nice older men who aren't sick, married, poor, or stinky."

"Stinky?" I asked, laughing.

"Yes, apparently as we men age, we start smelling funny."

"Does Mr. Ellerbee smell funny? I guess I hadn't sniffed him."

"Thank God," Don said, laughing. "He wears cologne, he dresses okay, he has a good retirement income and he travels a lot. He doesn't have any huge medical bills, recent hospital stays, or excessive prescriptions. So he's apparently healthy, and Cora said she'd like to do some traveling."

"You ran a check on him?" I asked, stunned, my eyes saucers. I couldn't believe Donald's version of matchmaking included a full background check.

"You don't think I was gonna hook Cora up with him if he was some kind of loser, did you?"

"I didn't think you were hooking her up at all. I thought you were extending a kind hand to a lonely elderly woman."

"Well, yeah, that, too, but I told her to get all dolled up and bake the best pie she knew how."

"She's in on this with you?"

"After I showed her the results of the background check, she was all for it."

"I don't know what to say."

"How about just relaxing and enjoying our little dinner party?"

"But it's a setup!"

"You said he's been lonely since his wife died, and Cora's a really great lady. If they hit it off, where's the harm?"

"Well, I suppose none," I admitted.

"Okay then." He paused as we listened a moment to our guests' spirited conversation, and heard fragments of it referring to trips Mr. Ellerbee had taken with his wife, and Cora's interested questions and comments, and remarks about her own interest in traveling.

"You never cease to amaze me, Donald Strachey," I said, kissing him, smiling, resting my forehead against his and wondering how I could have ever found anything to feel sad about when I had him.

********

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!