And to All, a Goodnight

by Annie

"I've never seen such a damned mess."

Yards and yards of hopelessly tangled Christmas light cord draped all over the sofa, all over him and he glared at the man sitting at his feet, instantly annoyed that all he got was a grin in return.

"Sure you have Buck. Hell, your and JD's house, for one. Just tryin' to find the bathroom is like running and obstacle course and I can't even imagine what time you gotta get up in the morning just to find the door."

"Shut up Vin. I've seen your desk."

"Eggnog?"

"Hate that stuff," Vin replied, not that Ezra seemed to care as he strolled from the kitchen and happily pressed large highballs full into both of their hands anyway.

He noticed Vin set his aside without even the tiniest sip and then he gazed into his own glass, voice half-hopeful/half-resigned as he looked to Ezra. "Rum?"

"But of course."

Figured. Unlike Vin, he loved the stuff – eggnog just seemed to effuse the holiday season – and he especially loved it spiked with alcohol. And Ezra always did use the good stuff, the really good stuff.

"Good, that's good," Vin was saying to Ezra yet thrusting his chin toward his way. "Think Buck could use some – make his a double. Vin was giving him a look. "Scrooge."

"A little holiday cheer-less these days, are we?"

"*We* aren't less of anything and I'll have you know I've got more ho-ho-ho than you two put together."

He offered up a mock salute with his glass and then allowed himself the smallest of sips and tried not to groan with pleasure as he set his eggnog down next to Vin's. Out of sight, out of mind, out of stomach. Maybe. "Thanks Ez" he said, not mentioning the fact that he had to undo a notch in his belt only that morning.

Too much holiday cheer.

How fucking ironic.

Holiday cheer-less. Ezra and Vin were right. He could hardly find it. This time of year usually had him revelling with each day counted off the calendar, enjoying the hell out of every minute of celebrating he could get his hands on, and clearly his waistline seemed to have had its own partying spirit since Halloween – JD and Vin and their damned candy stashes.

But this year, for some reason he couldn't quite name and a feeling he couldn't quite place save to say it felt very out of character for him if he did say so himself, the holiday season just seemed to loom like a weight he had to bear because – well, just because.

And that sure didn't feel right.

Then again, nothing much seemed to feel right lately. He should be happily ensconced in everything Christmas and yet –

Something – he felt out of sorts.

It wasn't just putting on a few pounds over the past few months, though the fact had distressed him more than he'd like to admit. Too much candy, too much pumpkin pie, too much drinking-

Not enough exercise.

Lord, he was channelling Nathan.

It felt as if something was out of whack, though, and not just his waistline. Work was going fine, they'd all been busy, nothing there to make him feel out of sorts and sure his friendship with the others was as solid as ever.

He'd been hanging out with Ezra and Vin a lot lately it seemed, and though there were times the former could positively set his teeth on edge with his constant commenting on everything under the sun and the latter drive him nuts with his almost too quiet reserve, they'd been having fun.

Fun with all of them really, except maybe Chris. But Chris was the man in charge and had been busy as hell these past few weeks trying to clear out paperwork on past caseloads so'd they all have a happy and quiet holiday. Besides, it wasn't anything Chris had done, anything any of them had done, to make him feel so off his mark.

He couldn't remember ever having feeling so thoroughly uninterested in absolutely everything.

So, to put himself more in the spirit of a season he normally enjoyed, he'd volunteered to help with decorating which now, come to find out, meant trying to unsnarl the mass of horribly knotted and twisted lights Ezra had so graciously donated to the cause of the office holiday party.

As if that wasn't a whole fiasco in the making.

What the hell compelled Chris to volunteer this year to hold that event was completely beyond him.

"Reckon he felt like it," Vin said, seemingly out of the blue yet clearly in answer to what he'd just been thinking and he realized he must have voiced that statement out loud.

"And if you're feeling fat, Bucklin, then come running with me in the morning."

God, had he said that aloud as well?

Vin glanced at the clock on Ezra's mantle and stood, his pile of still snarled lights falling to the floor in a heap at his feet. Pretty much untouched, the whole mess. "Oh, hell. I gotta go," he announced, clearly ignoring the pointed looks he was receiving. "Buck, meet me at my place tomorrow."

"What? What for?" Never even mind the question of where it was he was running off to after having pretty much done nothing but eat and drink.

Vin just grinned again, which needled at him somehow.

"Running. Six. Be there." With that, he was gone.

He felt a headache coming on.

"You're running with Vin tomorrow morning? How utterly courageous of you." Ezra smoothly planted himself in the leather chair next to the sofa, highball in hand and a grin on his face. It needled him as well.

"Oh, hell, I am not running –" The eggnog Ezra held looked thick and creamy and delicious in its glass and he suddenly was highly conscious of his pants waistband digging into him in places he never been aware of before. He sighed. "Why the hell does it have to be at six?"

Ezra didn't answer, just sat staring at the mess of Christmas cheer resting in hopeless knots in his lap. "Perhaps this would be easier if we plugged one of them in."

"Would be easier if that little shit hadn't ducked out of here after doing absolutely nothing." One strand of lights in his hands abruptly lit up and he almost dropped the whole bundle. "Jesus, Ezra, warn me next time."

"You're a million miles away."

Maybe he was – but what planet and why was out of his reach. What the hell was itching him so much he couldn't even figure out for himself where to scratch?

"Where'd you get these old lights anyway? Haven't seen this kind since I was a kid." They were the large, bright colored lights of years past, each single bulb brilliant with vibrant primary color.

"Courtesy of my mother. You know, the soon to be Mrs Peete."

"Peete. Your mothers getting remarried?"

"This ones an earl of some sort, so she says. Wealthy. Don't ask what country, I'm of the mind if doesn't actually exist."

"Money, though, huh?" He held up the strand of lights, almost untangled and looking good until he touched a bulb and they blinked off immediately.

"Oh, well you know Maude. If the Ferragamo fits –" Ezra reached over and twisted the red light in the middle and the strand came back to life. "Love is a conundrum to her. I'm not sure it ever plays a factor."

"Love the one your with, then?" One strand successfully pulled free of its brothers – only a zillion more to go.

"Interesting phrase, coming from you."

He shot him a look and ignored the remark. Maybe that was true in the past but lately, not hardly. "Can you believe Chris agreed to this?"

"I am still trying to believe how Vin managed to squeak his way out of here after downing most of my beer – imported, mind you – eating most of the pizza and having not touched even one of these light strings."

"Guess he' got somewhere better to be." Which only served to remind him he hadn't – though apparently neither had Ezra. Not for the lack of invitations, at least in his case though doubtful Ezra sat alone every weekend either, but still, what made him say yes to this mess instead of accepting at least one of those offers of a cozy night for two –

Made no sense. He was making no sense. No date. No fun, and hardly caring about either fact. Jesus, and now: "I can't believe he's got me running with him at the crack of dawn."

"I pity you not. You don't always have to acquiesce, you know. Saying no is allowed, Buck."

There was a niggling feeling there, Ezra veering off onto a subject less about running and more perhaps, down a road leading to his own personal life. Nope, not going there and really, what was there to veer to? He hadn't had the urge to cuddle up to anyone in weeks.

He held up the tangled mass of light and cord. "Well, you could have said no yourself there Ez. You didn't have to volunteer these."

"My contribution to the festivities at the ranch Larabee. He needed some outdoor decoration."

He threw the mess onto the floor, all but one strand hopelessly wound together and the drive to do anything about it draining from him along with the interest to attend this holiday gathering. "What time are we supposed to be there tomorrow, anyway?"

"One, I believe he said, to help set up." Ezra picked up the impossibly scrambled lights. "Party starts at eight. Should be interesting, Chris hosting this soiree."

"Surprised me."

Ezra studiously worked the jumbled cords and he sat back on the sofa not moving just eyeing the still-full glass of rich, spiked eggnog that seemed to be calling out his name. There was a definite want there. His stomach growled. "Ezra, do you think I've put on a few lately?"

"Perhaps a tad too much celebrating?" Ezra countered, and that left him nowhere really.

He hated that, answering a question with a question, and besides, he hadn't indulged much by way of celebration at all lately. Hadn't been to any parties. Hadn't dated in what seemed forever, and the fact he didn't care much he hadn't wasn't even bothering him as much as it really ought to be – and why the hell not?

He'd always had pool of various women with whom he was more than delighted to share a little affection – or a lot, depending. Lately though, it seemed none of them, nor any of the new women he'd met interested him. They all felt so - vacant somehow – as though there was nothing more than what could be had on the surface. A pretty face, a pretty body, a long weekend and then that was that – it was over.

Always worked for him in the past - worked well actually. No commitment, no ties, nothing solid to bind himself to, and he liked it that way.

Always had. So why then did he now feel that it was not nearly enough? They weren't nearly enough.

All those women more than happy to share a few nights with him and he couldn't name even one with whom he'd want to share, back.

What the hell had got into him and what the hell was he looking for, anyway?

Ezra and Vin had more going on socially that he had lately – and how sad was that when the two of them did practically nothing social? At least, nothing he knew of.

"Tell me Buck, haven't you squired around several of the women from our office?"

He shot Ezra a wary look, starting to wonder how it was his thoughts were written for all to see over his face. "A few."

"Here's an interesting scenario. You and a half-dozen of your former and/or current paramours all hobnobbing, drinking to excess, following you around like lemmings – "

"Current – no. No current. There are no current."

"Really, how completely unexpected."

"Definitely no lemmings, Ezra."

Ezra waved him off. "Please Buck. We all know better. You've always had a port in every office."

He bristled at that. Wasn't like he was making the rounds around the office, for shit's sake, not in along time, not anymore – and he had half a mind to laugh off the whole conversation with his usual line, about it hardly being his fault in attracting others because of his natural- born animal magnetism.

But he felt tired – lethargic almost – like the closer he got to the season, the more drained of levity and good will he was, and so brushed off Ezra and his spiel with a wave of his hand and waited for a change of subject.

Ezra was looking at him.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. Just thinking how you seem rather subdued of late."

"Kind'a tired Ezra. That's all."

Subdued. Hit that nail on the head. Usually this time of year was one of his favourites - everyone in a joyous mood – giving, a special part of the season. And he loved to give.

Lately though, he felt he had nothing to give. And there sure as shit wasn't anything he wanted to take or partake in – all of which should have scared him frankly, considering his life and usual desires. Gone it seemed, was deep hunger for anything.

"Feeling your age there Buck?"

He laughed, Ezra laughing with him, but God, maybe –

He was getting older. Forty this coming year, and age never weighed on him before. Maybe the spiked eggnog was just going to his head. He couldn't even seem to keep his eyes open.

"So I guess Mary Travis will be in attendance."

That opened his eyes.

Ezra was trying to shake the life out of the lights, though from what he could see, was managing to only worsen the knots.

"Mary?"

"Undoubtedly. I hardly think Orrin to leave her out of this, or she to be left out when it's already known this celebration will be thriving out at Special Agent-in-Charge Chris Larabee's homestead. Nothing but an act of nature or fatal occurrence could hold that woman at bay."

"Maybe we'll have an earthquake, then," he joked, though really, he hadn't even considered Mary Travis would be at this party. She'd be giving Chris a definite run for the mistletoe that night, that was for sure, and why that seemed to stick like a burr under his skin, he wasn't quite sure. Not like it was any of his business, and he knew Chris had no feelings other than friendship for the woman, if it could be called even that – or at least, he didn't think Chris harboured those sort of feelings.

Besides, it was an office-party occasion. Friendly laughter and fun and harmless socializing with the people you normally just worked with; he should be looking forward to it all.

Should be counting down the hours.

God, he had to get into the spirit of the season.

With a sigh he moved to pick up the yards of tangles lights, surprised when Ezra stood and, with one death-defying shake to the whole screwed-up mess, managed to separate them into individual strands.

"You're a magician."

"Just a minor talent among the plethora," Ezra said with a grin.

***

Frozen. He was still frozen. What in God's name possessed anyone to be out running at the crack of dawn on a frigid winter's morning was beyond him, but there he'd been, chasing Vin the entire run and dodging patches of black ice while wishing like hell he could crawl back to his townhouse and snuggle down under the covers.

Even the long, hot shower he'd taken afterward hadn't warmed him, never mind he'd played with himself there at the end, that usually enough to get the fire burning inside, regardless of the temperature. But his usual image of himself surrounded by a bevy of beauties managed to fall short of intended success – Ezra and his damn vision of lemmings – even after repeated stroking of the perfect kind.

He'd wanted to climax, wanted so badly, but for whatever reason, out of the blue crept Mary Travis' face, right when he's been so damn close and that was the end of that. He'd lost the urge right then and there; one second hot, the next cold as ice and he'd left the shower feeling almost as chilled as he had going in.

Now, he was still cold.

Damn that Ezra, bringing up Mary's name last night and images of her with Chris, together in very much non-working related clutches, seeped into what were definitely less than pleasant images to use to whack off.

No visions of pretty dancing sugarplums or lemmings there, that was for damned sure, never mind why the thought of her being interested in Chris bothered him, except, well hell – Chris was his friend. He had been his friend for too many years to keep track of and he knew, definitely knew that Mary Travis was just not happening.

Chris wasn't – couldn't – be interested in that woman.

Chris – Chris just –

Chris just deserved better was all.

Oh hell. He was late.

Hours later then he ought to be leaving he glanced at his watch – where had the time gone? He headed to Chris' ranch, pulling up and happy to see the other guys vehicles already there, all parked behind Chris' truck. At least there'd be ample help.

"Buck," he heard and waved as Nathan came around the house, ladder in hand. "You're late."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Where do you need me?"

Nathan waved toward the house. "Inside. Think there's still some stuff to get done."

Great, he thought ruefully, not looking forward to any of it but heading inside anyway, half running into Ezra as he exited with arms full of what looked to be the same lights they'd been fooling with the night before.

"Got ‘em workin'?"

"But of course," Ezra replied as though the light strands in question hadn't been one huge disaster waiting to happen.

He was glad he didn't have to help put them up on the roof, that ladder looking shaky at best.

The house was fairly quiet and cosily warm and somewhere a fireplace was burning. It smelled heavenly. That, and it was pretty clear someone had been baking. He breathed deep. Was baking still – apples and cinnamon. Now that was the scent of Christmas.

Vin was throwing tinsel at an already erected tree in the seldom-used living room, the thing massive as it stood upright in the corner, all but covered in silver.

"Hell, Vin," he began and moved into the room. "You're supposed to drape that stuff piece by piece, not attack it like its done you harm."

Vin just grinned. "You got your ways, I got mine."

He decided to head into the kitchen after Vin grabbed a huge handful and was winding up to lob in high onto the uppermost branches.

Nettie and Casey were busy with flour-covered hands.

"Something sure smells good in here." It did. Reminded him of Christmas' past.

"It's the chili," Josiah offered with a grin as he entered from the other door and suddenly, the room felt a whole lot smaller that it had a second ago.

"It ain't the chili," he stated, but Josiah just flashed that smile and he suppressed the barb he was going to make about anyone actually wanting to eat that ulcer-inducing concoction.

He looked around but there didn't seem to be anything for him to do – he sure wasn't the best of cooks and everyone knew it – an so turned to find a project elsewhere to settle into.

Casey was mixing something in a bowl that looked too good to pass by and he swiped a finger-full on his way out.

"Di that again and I'll beat you with this spoon."

How the hell Nettie could see out of the back of her head like that was nothing short of miraculous and he laughed and skipped out to the other room.

JD was now there with Vin, the two of them tossing handfuls of tinsel at an already grossly covered tree.

"How the hell you going to get all that off to unpack the ornaments after Christmas?" It was a mess, they were a mess, both of them covered in strands of silver head to toe.

"Vacuum," Vin replied which made him shiver. He didn't doubt it at all and made a not to himself to skip out on taking-down-decoration day.

The entire house was pretty much decked out for the holidays, there wasn't a whole lot more to be done as far as he could see and a mild twinge of guilt for being late traveled ran through him.

Bright poinsettias were tucked into every available corner and pine garlands wrapped with tiny white lights lined the railing of the staircase. Unlit candles in burgundy, whike and gold stood at attention, their wicks held high just waiting for the hour to be lit so their flames could begin dancing.

All in all, very festive – too bad he just wasn't feeling the merry.

He wasn't doing anything, wasn't looking for any job to sign on to even though he hadn't yet done anything constructive, just wandering from room to room around Chris' house.

It felt almost like home, this place, which was about right – he'd spent enough hours here. Had built enough memories to make it feel part of him and he let his fingers trail over objects that meant more to him than anything he held in his own house.

The first time he'd ever laid eyes on this place – with Chris years ago, that day as cold as this one – he was sure Chris would make an offer. He had, and the two of them had worked side-by-side for weeks getting the place liveable for Chris and his wife to-be.

Sarah Larabee had loved it all – the house. The holidays. Having people around. Chris. Maybe that was what he felt missing within him this time of year, her presence – as dear to him as a sister, and the two of them a whole lot more alike and attuned to some things than he and Chris ever were. Twins separated at birth, she would say and laugh – filling the season, this house, with warmth and love. Gone for more than a few years now but, as he walked through her house, she was here all the same.

The year she'd had Adam, God, the way she'd beamed. Words she'd said then as he'd held that baby, laughing and predicting he, the consummate ladies' man, to be settled down and in love by the time he turned forty.

Forty, and alone.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sarah," he whispered and do his best to suppress the feeling trying to rise within him that told him there was something more he was searching for and hadn't yet discovered.

He strode toward the den, giving a half chuckle at the sound of Vin and JD clearly attacking one another with tinsel, though how they has any left after Vin had covered the tree with it was a mystery in which he'd rather not be involved.

The den was quiet, dark and – not empty.

As soon as he saw him, he knew what he'd been looking for as he'd strolled the house. Chris.

He was sitting on the floor, stack of cd cases and old vinyl record albums piled around him and for a moment, he just stared. Something about the music in the background – instrumental, not holiday – Henry Mancini he would have said if asked, which for some reason sent a warm memory of something familiar through him, yet just that much out of reach.

Chris was just sitting there, light from the fireplace rendering him in soft gold and seemingly absorbed in selecting music for the party.

"Chris," he whispered, something about the setting begging for a quiet touch and that feeling inside seemed even stronger.

Chris looked up and smiled warmly, which set off a pang in his chest so deep he was taken aback. He'd seen Chris smile before, for God's sake, but he'd looked as content as he'd ever seen him, there in the near dark of the room, Chris did, and with the memories of Sarah still fresh in his mind, the scene struck him somehow.

Lord, though, the mad ought to smile more often.

"Hey, life of the party," Chris rose, brushed off the lap of his denim and shifted past him into the hallway, "bout time you showed. I got a job for you."

"Oh, no." He groaned, sure it was a job he wasn't going to want to do but followed anyway, the faint strains of the music in the den fading away.

Chris was pulling out a large box from the closet in the hall and grinning and he knew, just knew, what was inside.

Christmas lights. A huge ball of tangled up cord.

"Here, Ezra says you're good at fixing this kind of thing."

"Hell."

***

Mary Travis. Damn.

What seemed a hundred or more people in the house and every room he wandred his way into, there she was – with Chris. One hand lightly patting Chris on the arm. Large eyes glued to the man as if he were the only person left alive in this world. An overly loud laugh erupting in reaction to anything Chris might have to say.

When the hell did anyone think Larabee was funny?

He knew the party had been a mistake. He wasn't in the mood – hadn't been in the mood since hearing the first carol played as background music in the department stores so many weeks ago.

It was Christmas, but he felt no ho-ho-ho.

A hand settled on his back and he turned. Natalie from the admin department, smiling and baring enough teeth he thought she just might sink them into his neck.

"Hey, Natalie."

"Buck Wilmington." She snuggled into his side. "Where've you been keeping yourself?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I've been around, same as always."

"You've been ignoring me."

My God, was she purring?

A wayward hand made its way into his jacket, Natalie's nails raking over his shirt buttons. He looked up and found Chris and Mary staring right at him. Mary whispered something in Chris' ear, nodding his way, but he missed whatever reaction Chris gave when, suddenly, there were lips pressed to his.

Natalie was purring. "Just wanted to get my Christmas present in early," she said. "Haven't seen much of you lately and, just so you know, my boyfriend's out of town tonight –"

"Oh, yeah? Well shoot, I'm sorry darlin'." He glanced again to Chris and Mary, though neither was looking his way any longer.

Natalie was giving him a full body press. "I'., ah – been kind'a busy these days."

Now she was pouting. "Oh."

He smiled at her and she beamed back, pout changing instantly and licking her lips. She was gorgeous – almost as tall as he was with the same thick, dark hair. Funny how a few months ago he'd have jumped at the chance her boyfriend was not around – had jumped. Now, though, it was hard to even muster up the emotion to care. "Maybe some other time?"

She laughed, tossing her head with her abundance of perfume tickling his nose. "Definitely next year – I'll stock up on the whipped cream."

"Yeehaw", he grinned. Lord, someone save him –

And then she was gone.

He felt uncomfortable, not a feeling he was used to having. His suit itched – and since when did a rollicking good time party ever involve wearing a suit? Hell, even Vin had one on, though he looked about as comfortable as he was feeling. The fact that Vin was wearing a Santa hat, however –

"What the hell's got into him?" he asked aloud to no-one, Vin passing by with that damn hat perched askew on his head. Talk about out of character.

"What the hell's got into you?"

Ezra. He turned to him and shrugged, not realizing anyone had been close enough to pay attention to him. "Nothing, not a thing."

"Seems you gave Miss Natalie there the brush off."

"She's seeing someone, you know."

Ezra laughed. "As if that was ever an obstacle of difficulty."

He didn't really laugh which seemed to make Ezra study him more closely.

"You don't seem your usual festive self this evening, Buck."

"Yeah, well –" He had not answer to that and so stared at Vin who was laughing, actually laughing out loud at something Inez had said to him and then Mary leaned down, said something else and then they were all laughing. Mary. Chris. Vin and Inez. Four very good-looking people all sipping from sparkling crystal – except Vin with his beer – and making merry.

It all seemed so surreal in a way, like he was watching some Hallmark channel movie where everyone was too pretty and events too saccharine for anything that could pass as real life.

Chris looked good. Mary was almost glowing and Inez, beaming. He'd never seen Vin so animated – and wearing that damn Santa hat, no less.

He nodded toward Vin. "Is he drunk?"

"He's having fun."

"He's drunk." Had to be because he couldn't remember ever hearing Vin laugh hard enough to hear from across the room. The man looked to be near crying.

Chris gave a wave in their direction, their eyes caught and he raised a finger of the hand holding his glass in return greeting, watching but refraining from moving as Chris sent him a long, unreadable look and then headed out the other door, Maty hot on his heels.

Yeah, Chris looked damned good.

"Tired, Buck?"

"What?" Ezra was speaking to him, what had he said?

"You sighed just now. Loudly. I assumed it was some statement of exhaustion, given how much work you did out here today. Now let's see, refresh my memory, will you? What exactly was it you did again?"

"Oh, yeah. That's real funny, coming from the man who's never broken a sweat to earn his keep in his life."

"Perspiration is not a measure of success, I'll have you know. Sweat is overrated." Ezra pointed to his glass. "Need a refill?"

He did, wanted a double, actually, but the bar was in the kitchen and Chris and Mary had just gone in there. He really wasn't in the mood to see that woman draping herself over Chris.

Sarah wouldn't have liked Mary.

Ezra was waiting an answer, he realized, and so he said, "in a minute" and then turned back to the room, gaze again resting on Vin and Inez.

Vin was a pretty good-looking guy and Lord, Inez had a beautiful smile and, as he was watching and admiring her, she grabbed the hat from Vin's head and placed it on her won and then they were both laughing again.

Vin and Inez and their flashing white smiles. They looked good together.

Probably like he did with Natalie.

Kind of like Chris and –

Nope, not going there.

Ezra was nodding toward the pair with, apparently, the same thought. "Lovely, don't you think?"

He had to agree and nodded in return as he watched Ezra watching Inez and Vin, watched Inez as she moved from Vin's side on the sofa to all but glide across the room and out the other side. "Definitely a looker," he said to Ezra, turning to find the man still watching Vin. Staring at Vin, actually, and something about that --.

Interesting. His eyebrows rose. "Ezra," he whispered with a laugh and a nudge to the other man's side, "your slip is showing."

"Indeed." Ezra shot him a grin then brushed past him, and had that been an intended salute as he raised his glass? "So, too, yours my friend."

What the hell was that supposed to mean, *his* slip was showing?

No slip. He had no slip over Inez.

Yes, of course he liked Inez, everyone knew that. He'd always liked Inez, Loved to shamelessly flirt with her to the point he and the others were pretty much permanent fixtures in her bar every Friday night.

No big secret. No slip to show. He liked to spend time at her place but then, so did the rest of them and he couldn't imagine a Friday passing without them all getting together for a round or two of hard-earned drinks and a few laughs.

Sitting there every Friday, the seven of them and whoever else happened to show up, was the highlight to the week as far as he was concerned. He couldn't imagine not hanging out at Inez's saloon. Couldn't imagine starting the weekend without rubbing elbows with Chris and the others. Couldn't think of any place to be other than in that chair, kicked back with a beer in hand and Chris by his side.

Chris. Chris right there – by his side. Stable. Constant.

Settling.

God, maybe he did have a slip to show afterall.

He needed air.

Turning, thoughts swirling in his head too fast for him to gather and not sure he wanted to in the first place, he fled the den and moved into the living room.

What did it mean when he couldn't seem to get Chris out of his head? He'd known the man forever and a day and then some – yet there were aspects to that man he really didn't know at all. And deep down, knew he wanted to.

All night long he'd found himself almost searching him out. Watching him from across the room and though silently stalking the man in his own house, at his own party. Keeping his distance because Mary had been plastered to his side and he didn't want to intrude.

Wanted Chris to himself, was what it was. What he felt.

What he'd felt over the years ever since that small brush of lips they'd shared so many eons ago. Chris was his. He felt Chris was his.

No sharing.

Oh, Jesus.

He stared at the drink in his hand. Some bright red, overly sweet concoction he'd been handed and just what was this stuff anyway?

Something mind-altering weird, no doubt. Something that was causing him to reflect on things he'd never thought to consider before.

Or had, but never would admit to and now not only was his brain forcing him to acknowledge their presence, but was somehow urging him to bring them all to the forefront like a tidal wave breaking just under his calm surface.

Like hell that was going to happen.

What he *needed* was a little female attention – that was all. That was all – that was everything. He was feeling a little morose these days because he hadn't had a decent date in weeks -- a sure enough reason to have anyone feeling out of sorts and, given it was the season of giving, he just needed to find someone to be the recipient of all his stored –up good will.

And okay, so this was an office party – most everyone he worked with present and no, he wasn't looking to resurrect any pseudo-relationships with the women he'd already known in the past – no Natalie – but there was no harm done in a little shameless flirting with one or two of ‘em.

Right?

Right?

Of course right, he told himself. That was exactly what he needed. Absolutely. He was a happy-go-lucky guy. He had a great sense of humor and a better sense of timing, and he just needed to pick one of these young women he didn't really know and mosey on over.

He'd only had those few thoughts of Chris because well, because Chris was like family. Was family – and Christmas was about family. It was only natural he'd want to have Chris around all the time. Family did that this time of year, and lately Chris hadn't been round much at all.

What he needed was to find that new girl just hired – Charlotte. He'd not had a chance to flirt with her. Tell her how beautiful her eyes were, shining like stars in a deep winter sky – yeah.

That was all he needed to feel his usual boisterous party self.

So.

Then.

Why was he still just standing here all by his lonesome?

Because, while his mind was telling him that was what he needed, his heart was screaming to him that wasn't what he wanted –

Good lord, what the "hell" was his problem?

He wasn't like that – wasn't that way. He didn't find men interesting. Didn't stare at men – okay, Vin, maybe, but he was almost pretty, no one would fault him there. He didn't "want" him though. Not like that. Not like he wanted –

No. No. What he wanted was a drink. Yeah.

He marched into the kitchen.

Alone in a crowd – that was a first, and that was what he was feeling. The kitchen was packed with people, most he knew, some he didn't, yet he found as he looked around he could care less.

Mary was there. And yes, Chris, who sent that half grin he knew so well his way, before being pulled back to whatever scintillating conversation Mary was trying to have with him, Nathan and Rain. Not that Mary seemed to notice the other couple.

She was turned to Chris, eyes locked on his face and laughing lightly again, at whatever he'd just imparted.

Yeah, that was Chris – a regular comedian.

The collar of his suit suddenly felt too tight, his tie too tight, strangling him like a noose around his neck and the way he kept running into Mary with Chris in every room –

What he couldn't understand was why her presence was bothering him so much. It wasn't as though Chris was "his" for God's sake.

Except part of him was saying yes, Chris *was* his. Had been his, still was his, would forever be his –

Oh Lord, he was weirding himself out –

"Is it hot in here?" he muttered as a trickle of sweat began to slowly meander down between his shoulder blades.

"As hell," Vin replied, and he jumped at the sound of the man's voice so close to his back.

He turned and snapped. "Jesus. What, you part bat with that hearing?"

"What's your problem – can't find the mistletoe?"

Okay, so he wasn't being his usual cheery self. He just wasn't feeling up to the spirit of the season, and having these bizarre-o-world thoughts about a man he'd called friend for too many years to count was making him decidedly irritable. "Sorry I didn't mean to – just feels a bit crowded in here. Hot."

"Feels good outside, I was just out back for a few seconds. Ezra's there, smoking."

"Smoking?" A top off to his drink, less that the double he wanted but better for being able to drive home later, and he wandered outside, happy to be away from the crowd building up the heat inside. Who knew there was this many people employed at their office?

Sure enough, there was Ezra, thin cigar in hand and blowing out a long plume of smoke toward the night sky.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The man didn't even have the courtesy to jump at being caught. He'd never seen Ezra smoke before. Smelled like the same ones Chris bought.

"Escaping the insanity of too much drink, leading to lowered inhibitions."

"You?"

Ezra laughed. "I was referring to you."

The lights affixed to the porch cast primary colors over Ezra's face. He looked ghoulish as he stood under them, like some satanic creature rising up from a Christmas hell, and even as the thought crossed his mind, one of the lights winked and the whole strand blacked out leaving them in the near-dark, the brightest light the glow from the tip of Ezra's cigar.

"Another lost soul," Ezra said, reaching up to tap at the defective bulb then turning back to face him. "Speaking of lost souls."

"Were we?" His drink tasted flat.

"You seem a disconsolate individual, Buck. There a problem? Anything I can do?"

Disconsolate. Melancholy. As if. Never had that term been applied to him, especially while at party. Just – something about the holiday season this year was sitting all wrong – like he'd swallowed something bitter and nothing he tried could wash away the after taste.

He refused to think about Chris.

"Nothing to do, I'm fine," he responded to Ezra's question. What else could he say? Just, he felt like he was looking at everything from the outside, as if everyone he knew was having a tremendously grand time at some party he'd been invited to but had found the door locked by the time he arrived to enter.

And with his nose pressed to the window, found everything he could see inside definitely fragmented as if peering through panes of multi-bevelled glass: Vin in that silly hat; Ezra making eyes at Vin; Chris being funny.

Mary and Chris.

His wanting Chris to himself.

Hell, yes, he had a problem. A big problem.

Ezra was staring at him, studying him in that way he had of reading a person's tells. His eye began to twitch under the scrutiny.

"Funny, you don't seem fine, Buck. You seem a bit unbalanced, as Josiah might say."

There was a good word for how he was feeling. Unbalanced. "Think I'm just a bit tired is all, like you said before. That damned Vin, anyway." Though really, the run this morning had nothing to do with anything.

"Interesting. I'd think that damned Mary more accurate –"

"Mary? What's she got to do with me?"

Ezra was back to fiddling with the burned out light bulb. "Oh," he began, "perhaps nothing. I was just making idle chatter."

"I'm fine, Mary's fine." He studied Ezra, the man's attention seemingly fixed on the malfunctioning bulb. "Vin sure seems fine."

In the next second, whatever he'd done had the lights coming back to life and Ezra was back to looking like the devil himself as he grinned under the wash of all that color and touted, "And then there was light."

***

It was over, it was over, it was finally fucking over.

One thirty in the morning and most of the people at the party on their way home via their own car or cab, depending on how much they'd had to drink.

He couldn't have been happier.

The last of them stood there in Chris' kitchen, Nathan and Rain having left just minutes before and he watch Josiah shrug his massive shoulders into his coat, keys in hand.

"Lot of fun, Chris," Josiah said, his 100-watt grin lighting up the room and luckily, not singing anymore like he'd been doing the past hour.

He wondered how much Josiah had had to drink.

JD was, surprisingly, sobered enough to offer to drive Josiah home, thank Gos, and grabbed the keys from Josiah without the man even realizing he'd lost them.

"Just plain eggnog tonight, huh, kid?"

"With a coke chaser now and again," JD added, laughing as he prodded the still grinning Josiah out the door. Casey had already left to warm up JD's car and he was sure he'd not see or hear from the kid until morning.

"A vile concoction, I might add," Ezra did add, smiling as he leaned next to Vin who was still in possession of the Santa hat.

"Inez go home already?" he asked, not remembering having seen her leave or offering up goodbyes. It occurred to him he wasn't that bothered by that fact, either, though was a bit surprised to find Vin still in residence with Inez already gone. They'd seemed – connected.

Then again, the way Ezra seemed to be taking charge of the less than sobered man, Vin swaying where he stood and looking for the world like he was already near to asleep, well, maybe it wasn't so surprising after all.

"Come, Mr Tanner. Your chariot awaits."

Vin smiled, mumbling up a, "thanks Ez," before letting himself be led out the door.

From outside, Ezra's voice could be heard, "No, Vin –oh, Lord –"

He looked to Chris and Chris looked to him and they both grabbed the roll of paper towels at the same time the sound of retching began. Vin.

Had to be the first time all night he'd found himself laughing, he realized.

Ezra was shoving Vin into his Jaguar, a pool of soured beer-smelling vomit by his rear tire, and they handed him the towels. "A little late, perhaps, but I thank you for the thought." He then started mumbling something about now needing his car detailed again and not paying for it and how pathetically in the red was Vin's bank account anyway –

"Take care of him, will you?" Chris was asking, leaning down to push Vin's legs into the well on Ezra's passenger side.

"And you as well," it sounded like Ezra replied but then he was shutting the car door and turning over the engine and he hadn't the chance to ask him to repeat.

Take care of whom? Chris?

He didn't relish being a third wheel.

Chris moved back inside and he followed then stopped. A light snow had begun falling.

"Buck?"

Chris was leaning in the doorway calling to him and he offered up a smile in return. "Going to be a white Christmas looks like."

"Lovely"

He chuckled, thinking of Ezra's comment while watching Vin and how odd the word seemed coming from Chris. "I've heard that before."

"You coming inside?"

He wanted to, but – "Nah, Guess I'll head on home. I can come back tomorrow, help you clean up if, you know –" It occurred to him Mary might actually be staying the night and so let his words trail off because he really didn't want to say it out loud. Didn't really want to come back and have to clean up anything, either.

"No," Chris was saying, "I don't know. Come in. Have some coffee, or a beer –"

"I don't want to intrude."

"Well, yeah, guess there is that. You'd be a real intrusion while I'm trying to scrape Josiah's chili off my stove."

That made no sense. "What about – what about Mary? Isn't she still here?"

"Hell no, she's not here. Left about a half-hour ago, thank God. She was sticking to me like a leech all night."

"Leech."

"Yeah, you fuck. I tried to get your attention all night – figured you, of all people, could distract her enough for me to make a run for it. Pry her fingers from my arm."

"You did?"

Chris laughed. "What? You thought I was waving to you all night just to say hi?" Chris turned into the house and he followed.

"I thought – I guess I thought," and it occurred to him he'd obviously thought wrong.

"Oh, jeeze, will you look at this place."

It was a mess but not half as bad as he and JD had had after one of their parties. There was, however, a considerably large amount of baked-on, burned-on chili all over the surface of the stove. The wall –

"How the hell does he do that?"

He moved to grab a sponge, stopping abruptly when a warm pressure on his arm stopped him. Chris' hand. "Leave it, Buck. It'll keep ‘til morning."

Chris moved toward the den and he stood there, still looking down at the place on his forearm that seemed to be tingling from that touch.

Oh, God, he had it bad.

"Coming?"

He nodded, loosening his tie and shucking off his coat to leave in a pile on the kitchen counter and wondering what the hell he was doing, then berating himself because, damn it, this was Chris. He friend from forever – and it wasn't considered a sin to be in lust (because he couldn't even begin to consider the other) with the man and want to spend time with the man when said man wasn't even aware.

Nothing had changed, he hadn't changed and Chris hadn't changed and nothing would change.

He was just having a drink, for shit's sake. He was allowed to do this – had done this a million times.

"Buck!"

"Huh?"

"I said, whiskey? Or beer?"

Chris was leaning there in the doorway of the den with a bottle in each hand and a smile on his face. Not grinning like he could, but just a soft, warm smile and looking rather tired as a man might after several hours of social revelry.

He felt just as tired. "Beer," he chose, and followed Chris into the room.

Music was playing and Chris turned to shut it off. "Wait, Chris," he requested. "put on that – what was that you were playing earlier today? Henry Mancini or –"

"You recognized it? Mancini? Hadn't played it in forever. I'd forgotten those records were here."

"I like it."

Chris smiled, bending down to finger through the old albums vertically stacked in the cabinet. "Sarah loved it."

"I know, I remember." He had and Chris was nodding and in a few minutes the soft, melodic sounds of familiar music from his mother's era flowed like a favorite memory into the room.

Chris seated himself in the chair and so he moved to plant his body in the middle of the leather sofa. The fire still crackled, its heat soothing.

For long moments neither of them said anything and it didn't feel odd or strained or strange – just two old friends sharing a beer. Like they'd done for years.

"You've changed, Chris."

"Oh yeah? How so?" Chris wasn't looking at him, was brushing his slacks and shaking his head. Several silver strands of tinsel floated down to settle in a glittery pool on the rug.

"Having this party. Not something I'd have expected, coming from you."

Chris looked up then, his smile still in residence. "Yeah. Just figured maybe – maybe it'd be a nice thing to do."

"Was nice. Very nice."

"Really?" Chris leaned forward then. "Because you seemed a bit –"

"Disconsolate?" He laughed, Ezra's word still ringing in his ear.

Chris laughed, too. "Well, that's not the word I'd have used, but – yeah."

"I'm fine."

"You looked fine when – who was that, Natalie from administration feeling you up?"

"You should talk. The boss' daughter-in-law?" He was offering up a grin but feeling anything nut jovial about it all. Everyone knew Mary Travis had her sights on Chris, but still, it was hard to watch first-hand.

"I blame you."

"Me?"

"I told you, I was trying to find a way to peel her off me all night. You weren't a help at all!"

Both of them laughed, then sipped at their beer and enjoyed the quiet. He hadn't felt this warm in weeks. Content. Tired.

"Vin and Inez seemed to be having a good time, I noticed," Chris said, voice quiet against the snap and pop of the fire.

"Yeah, seemed like." He'd noticed more, he wanted to add, that Ezra had also noticed Inez and Vin. Mainly Vin. But whatever was going on there was not his to tell. Ezra and Vin – he wondered what, if anything, might come of them, not sure which way Vin swung and sure enough, even after knowing the man more than a year, Ezra remained somewhat of a mystery.

Chris was saying something but he missed the first part.

"-- seemed like you didn't much care."

"What?"

"Women, Buck. Half the women here were sending you longing looks or don't you notice anymore?"

Notice. What he'd noticed was Mary fawning all over Chris the entire evening.

"You don't seem much in the spirit of things, though hell", Chris was saying, "can't say I haven't been there myself. Figured having this party was a good way to bring on the feeling of holiday –"

"Oh jeeze, please don't say cheer."

Chris was looking at him askance, but what could he say? That he'd been feeling heavily cheer-less these days?

How the hell do you say to a man you've known over half your life that now, for some reason that could only be attributed to semi-insanity (or maybe that god-awful sweet, pink thing he'd been downing most of the night) you were attracted to him.

Yeah, right. That's be a sure-fire way to ignite some holiday cheer real fast. Fist to the eye fast. Deck the Buck.

"You're awfully quiet, Buck."

Too quiet, he could tell Chris was thinking and he knew he had been. Still was.

"You remind me of Sarah, you know. She could get so contemplative this time of year – worried over things. Were there people out there starving? Were there children with no parents? What could she do to help." Chris was staring right at him. "She worried about you, too – would you ever find someone and settle down?"

"Settle down," he murmured, repeating words now echoing inside his head and suddenly, feelings of having to ‘settle' with someone because he couldn't have another raced through him. He shouldn't have to settle in order to settle down. "I should go," he said abruptly, setting his beer on the mantle and already moving toward the door because he did have to leave – nothing was feeling right, as though he'd taken a left turn somewhere back about a week ago and still hadn't found the right road home.

"What? Why?"

Chris was sitting there, just sitting there with no fucking clue the friend sitting across from him was having some sort of mental breakdown because he couldn't stop inhaling the scent of him – whiskey and pine and whatever the hell that Chris wore as aftershave – and all of that combined smelled more like home and Christmas than any cookies baking in the oven ever had.

There was something seriously wrong with him lately.

"It's late, Chris. I – really ought to be –" He could hear himself stuttering, stammering, sounding more like JD than himself and feeling more drunk now he'd just been sitting doing nothing than he'd felt earlier in the evening. Was the last time he was drinking anything pink – ever.

"I'm sorry if my talking about Sarah got you upset, Buck."

It was an odd thing for Chris to say and he shook his head. "Talking about Sarah would never get me upset. Ever." He meant that. "It's natural you thinking about her – I've been thinking about her."

"I always though you and Sarah were a lot alike, I ever tell you that?" Chris was half smiling.

"No." But he'd known. He and Sarah had known, had recognized something in one another that was clearly stitched from the same thread.

"There are things about you that are the same things I loved about her."

Okay. He had to get the hell out of here. "Chris – "

Chris just looked at him with an odd expression like he was going to say something more, but then only nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It's late."

Suddenly, he didn't feel much like moving. Go. Stay. He didn't want to hear what else Chris has to say almost as much as he knew he'd stay to listen but, clearly, Chris was done with whatever he had been on his mind.

"You can camp out here tonight," Chris said rising and draining the remainder of his beer in one long swallow. "Don't think I want you out driving with it snowing, never mind however much you've had or not had to drink."

He chuckled. "What was that pink stuff, anyway?"

"Don't know, but Ezra's the one made ‘em, if that helps you any."

"Help, no -- More like, hurts." He rubbed his temples. "I'm bound for a wicked headache come morning." He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa, his body already deciding to stay the night before his mind could talk him into leaving. Chris was right, it was late and a long drive back. And he had been drinking. "Think I'll just take a nap here."

"A nap." Chris was laughing. "Sure you don't want to head on to the guest room?"

"Does it look like I'm moving?"

"I'll get you and blanket and pillow."

The room was warm, the fire still going and it too wonderfully soothing to leave. He was tired, sleepy, and feeling somewhat more content here than he had anywhere else of late and maybe, maybe by morning, the crazy thoughts he was having about a man he knew as well as a brother would be gone.

He was just semi-drunk was all. That's all that was about.

The weight of a blanket settled over him and he mumbled a good night as he pulled the pillow underneath his head, eyes slipping closed before the lights even cut off.

Yeah, he was the too-much-drink kind of tired.

The warmth of a hand around his dick woke him.

Oh, God – what the hell?

He blasted open an eye, the room dark and murky with just the faint glow from the fire giving outline to objects near him.

He was still at Chris' – but whose hand?

"Buck?"

Oh, God – Chris? "Chris, I – what –"

"Shh," Chris was whispering in his ear, he could feel the man's breath tickling the hair on his neck.

He was leaning over the back of the couch, Chris was, then slipping over the back to settle in behind him. The two of them squeezed back to front like sardines.

"What are you –" His mouth wasn't working right because surely that wasn't his voice filled with such trepidation and unease and, Lord, lust – just what the hell was going on? What the hell was Chris thinking!

Lips moved against the nape of his neck, a tongue lightly playing over the skin there and that was almost enough to send him soaring into orbit. Sure enough, li'l Buck was definitely rising to the occasion and who the hell really cared what the hell Chris was thinking after all?

That hand there was warm and firm and stroking and as long as it kept doing what it was doing to him. He wasn't going to argue.

How the hell he hadn't bolted from his spot was beyond him, though – oh, Lord, that hand squeezed with just the right amount of pressure, stroked the exact place that usually had him coming within seconds –

How was this happening?

"Chris?"

"I know. I'm sorry," the voice behind him said with enough hint of reservation he wasn't sure they shouldn't both shut up and get on with the getting on instead of trying to figure out the whys and hows. "I just – I was just lying there in my bed, alone, and thinking of you out here on the sofa. Alone. And then – I wanted you, Buck. I want you."

This was making absolutely no sense. "You drink any of that pink stuff Ezra brought?"

Chris laughed then and it sounded so perfect he wanted him to do it again.

He began to turn to face him, not easy given the size of the couch, but he had to see his face. Had to see what expression was there – this was just not happening. Couldn't be – and oh, God, it wasn't happening.It wasn't Chris. He wasn't –

"Ezra?"

"Good evening to you, Mr Wilmington."

He shot up to sitting, body shaking and head spinning so hard it might just fly off into the next room.

A dream. It was all a dream.

"Buck?"

Chris. For real this time. He was standing in the doorway.

"You okay? I heard you yell."

Yell? It was a wonder he hadn't screamed. He was still trembling. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Bad dream?"

"Nightmare, actually." There was sweat trickling down is neck and he noticed his hand was till shoved into his pants. Thank God it was too dark in the room for Chris to really see him.

Chris was still standing there, could make out his outline though his face remained in shadow. "Go on back to bed, Chris. I'm okay." That damn Ezra and his oink drink.

Chris seemed to agree he was okay and drifted away into the dark of the hall, though a part of him wanted him to stay. But what, he was going to ask the man to hold him because he had a semi-erotic dream that turned ugly?

Lord, he hated ugly.

He settled back down on the couch, eyes wide and staring into the soft glow of the diminishing fire. Just a dream. A dream with Chris touching him in places he sure as shit never touched him before.

It scared him how much he wanted that to happen. Really happen.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall to rest against the back of the couch. It was all so wrong. His hand remained ensconced in his pants and he gave his cock a slow tug. It was wrong and yet, it felt so good.

Chris had looked good.

All night he'd been watching him. Damn, that man was good-looking, he'd always thought that about him –

Tall and blond with enough ruggedness about him to make anyone sit up and take notice. Sure his dick took notice. Three tugs and picturing Chris and he was back to being hard as a rock.

God, and in the middle of the man's den, too. He shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be thinking this sort of thing and sure shouldn't be doing anything about it, not here. Not ever. But it felt so damned good –

"I can do that for you."

Again his eyes shot open.

There he was.

Chris. With his hand already sliding like silk into the unzipped fly of his pants, fingers lightly playing him as though they'd been doing so for years.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, but Chris just smiled in return and the fondling increased.

"You want me here, don't you, Buck."

"I shouldn't."

"But you do."

"There's something wrong with me."

"You know so or you think so?"

"I think so."

"Oh, I don't"

The hand was pulling on his erection, circling around the head of his cock that was now happily eyeing them both and clearly not caring whose hand was really doing what.

He was stunned. And though he knew it was all in his head, the quick thrumming of his body was telling him to shup up and enjoy the show,

When Chris shifted to his knees and took the head of his cock deeply into his mouth he heard himself moan.

"Oh, God –"

"Like that?"

"Don't, Chris – I'm gonna –"

"No. Wait. Not yet, Lover –"

Lover? Chris would never call him that. "Chris," he heard himself moan.

"Buck, hold on. I've never swallowed."

What? For God's sake, couldn't he even have that much? Who was directing this fantasy, anyway?

"I'll do it."

A woman's voice – Mary's voice. How the hell did she get here and holy shit, he was going to be sick.

His stomach was churning and he ran past the dissipating forms of Chris and Mary and rushed to the half bath in the hall just in time to heave up a huge amount of whatever concoction it was Ezra had got him drunk on.

Chris. Ezra. Mary. Shit. All he needed now was a little Vin and JD to complete the nightmare.

Screw never drinking the pink stuff – he was never drinking anything ever again.

The light in the hallway snapped on and he ducked his head against its sudden brightness. Reality had just descended.

"Buck?"

Chris again. Though whether the voice belonged to dream-Chris or real-Chris, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"In here," he croaked though probably Chris had to know that already as easy as it had to have been to follow the sounds of retching.

"You okay?"

He nodded but really, how okay could he possibly look while kneeling in front of the toilet after upchucking into it. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Chris moved into the small bathroom, closing the toilet's lid and shifting himself down to sit.

He closed his eyes and rested against the side of the tub and rather wished Chris would go away. Bad enough to have been having wild dreams about this man, bad enough to be found sitting on the floor next to the toilet after having vomited and, worse, to find Chris sitting not even inches way and watching.

And laughing.

He opened an eye. "What?"

"Oh, just having a little deja-vu here. This is sure not the first time I've sat with you in the can while you've heaved your guts out."

He stood and rinsed his mouth. "Don't remind me."

Chris was still chuckling. "Remember the first time, some bar down in Texas?"

"Yeah, Tacos, tequila and –"

"Teresa. I think her name was Teresa."

"She was a great kisser." What a time that had been, when they were both too young and too stupid to know better or care one whit.

"So were you, as I recall."

Oh, God. Yeah. He and Chris had grazed each other's lips then. Too drunk to worry over why they were doing it, and it was something he'd pushed to the back of his mind.

"I was drunk, that's for sure." So was Chris, for that matter. Both of them groping that girl, Teresa, and somehow winding up doing a little groping with each other. But that had been too many years and more than too many beers ago. A lifetime ago.

"Wonder where she is now?"

"Who?"

"That girl – Teresa."

He frowned. "Hell, Chris. I can't even remember what she looked like, and you're wondering how to look her up."

"She looked a bit like Sarah, didn't she?"

There was a tube of toothpaste in the medicine cabinet and he ran a line across his teeth and swished, then spit. "I guess."

"She really did love you, you know."

"What? Who – Teresa?"

"Sarah, you idiot. Sarah loved you, had a little crush on you and – well, like I said, we worried about you."

"We?"

Chris waved a hand. "That whole settling down thing. We joked that maybe you'd have to eventually just move in here with us after you'd exhausted all the women of Denver – joked that we'd have to buy a king-sized bed for us all if you did."

He laughed because there was nothing else to do –

"I did end up buying that king."

Nothing to say – what was he supposed to say? "Yeah," he did say and stretched, chuckling and cracking his knuckles in a move he hoped might lighten up the feeling that have settled over them. "Threesome, huh? Guess Sarah had more than a little crush on me. Hoo-wee." Laughed again because it was the only way to keep from bolting from the room. What were they talking about?

Chris didn't say anything, was just staring directly at him, clearly not lightened up, and then slowly shook his head. "No, Buck. That was me."

Seriousness came crashing back. What the hell did he say? "You."

Now it was Chris who stood. "That so surprising? Hell, Buck. I've known you longer than anybody – it never occurred to you how much time I wanted to spend with you from day one?"

"We're friends –"

"Friends. Yes. And I wouldn't – couldn't – jeopardize that friendship for the world." Chris took a long drink of water from the sink, then sighed. "Don't know why I'm doing that now." He turned to look at him. "Hope I'm not." The cup of water end up in the trash and Chris turned toward the mirror, hands braced against the sink, his back to him and he wished like hell he could see his eyes. "Shit. I don't know why I'm saying all this, Buck – think I've had too much to drink, too."

"Chris –"

But Chris waved him off. "No. Just forget all this, forget I'm rambling. I think I'm drunk. What were we talking about again? Natalie, or was it Alison?"

He stood, stomach still churning but he had to find out more. What was Chris saying? Something in his eyes must have revealed a whole hell of a lot more than he could muster in words because when Chris turned back toward him, his face took on a look he hadn't seen before. "Chris, I –"

Chris just leaned toward him.

There was the softest brush of lips against his –

His toes curled and oh, God. He remembered this. Hi did. After more years than he wanted to count, he remembered in an instant the feel of this man's lips on his, if only for that brief second.

Chris pulled back, he could sense the ‘I'm sorry' on the tip of Chris' tongue about to rear its head and he didn't want that, God, didn't want to hear that – so moved in to close the gap between them and let his lips settle over Chris' this time. Chris' were soft and warm and inviting and they parted just that much to allow his tongue to slip inside and Lord, it felt just like coming home.

His head was reeling, his body trembling, Yet, he felt –

Settled.

"Jeeze, Buck," Chris said, pulling away with a breathy laugh he could feel on his face, "are you purring?"

He laughed as well then, a deep rolling in his chest that made him feel almost giddy and reached out to pull this man into a bear hug. "What are we doing?" he whispered into his ear because it was so much easier not to face him in this moment.

"I'm not sure," Chris whispered back, "but I think I want to do it again."

"This is going to be complicated."

"Kissing?"

"Shit, Cjris."

"Not that complicated. I know what goes where and how –"

"You know that's not what I mean."

Chris looked at him. "Oh, good. Because for a minute there you had me worried that maybe your reputation wasn't all it's cracked up to be."

"My reputation. I'm no Casanova, Chris. Not really. Not in this – whatever this – what is this?"

Chris smiled. "I don't know, exactly. But I know whenever I feel alone, I call you. I know whenever I need a hand, I call you and I know –"

"Or Vin."

"Vin. Yeah, but – I'm not thinking of sleeping with Vin."

"Chris?"

"Okay, not rushing anything. Slow and steady and all. It's just – I'd say as many years as you and I have put in together must mean something, and I know I'd like to find out more about what that means. What that kiss means."

"So you're saying –"

"I'm saying – hell, Buck. I don't know what I'm saying. What do you think I'm saying?"

Wishy-washy. He'd never known Chris to be wishy-washy. He cleared his throat and stood – the bathroom no place to be having this conversation. "I'm not sure what you're saying, but I think I'm saying I've been wanting something for so long it took me twice that to figure it out. So I've definitely got the slow part down and I'm nothing but steady and what I want right now more than anything is standing in front of me with just about the dumbest damn expression I've ever seen on his face."

It took a minute but then Chris grinned. "You're such an asshole."

"Thought that was what you loved about me?"

Chris just sat there saying nothing for a few long beats, and he wondered if he'd made the man's head spin saying that word. Love. Talk about showing slips.

"You say you got a king-sized somewhere?" He grinned, hoping he looked light and easy and breezy and not like some leering old drunk and when in doubt, go for the change in subject.

Slowly, Chris shifted against the sink. "Yeah," he said, smiling. "I do, but thought you said slow and steady."

"No, you said slow and steady."

Chris shook his head and moved out the door.

"Um, no," added, shutting off the bathroom light and following Chris down the hall, still a bit woozy from the drink. The dreams. Chris' show of slip. "That was definitely you. I said something about Vin and then you said something about not rushing things. Slow and steady. Definitely your words because I'm more the fast and reckless sort."

"Yeah, so fast you barely made it to the john."

"Can I help it if Ezra put something in those pink drinks?" He trailed Chris up the stairs.

"Did I tell you to drink them? I don't think so; your own fault."

"My own fault. Yeah, right. I'd have to say –" Chris stopped so abruptly he almost ran into him and he realized they were there, standing now in Chris' bedroom. Standing next to a large king-sized bed.

How awkward was this going to be?

Chris turned to face him and fingers came up to brush a path across his lips.

What the hell were they doing? How would this ever work out?

What were they thinking?

Chris looked as confused about the immediate future as he felt – never mind the distant – and yet, he knew as Chris' arms traced a path down his back and his arms mirrored that same move, that for the first time ever, like a building fitting to its foundation after years of shifting from one side to the other, he felt himself settling.

With this man, he felt settled.

With this man, he felt at home.

"Merry Christmas, Buck Wilmington," he whispered to himself as he gave Chris a squeeze because this felt right and , for the first time since that initial Christmas carol played so many weeks ago, he felt maybe some genuine Christmas cheer wasn't so hard to find, after all.

Life was good.

THE END