Merry Little Christmas

by Limlaith

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The Weekend

Vin awoke first, sunlight peeping through the blinds in the bedroom. He clenched his muscles experimentally, wincing and smiling hugely. Ah yes, it felt good. It felt good to remember, for the first time in so very long. He was sticky and realized with gleeful satisfaction that the entire room stank of sex.

He had no idea what time it was and he didn’t care.

Feeling the imminent call of nature, Vin lifted Larabee’s arms and legs off of him and made a beeline for the bathroom. Ah, much better. He stood at the sink washing up and snuck a glance back at Chris, still snoring. Man slept like the dead. But he deserved it.

It was funny, in retrospect. If they hadn’t ended up fucking like rabbits, Vin still might have ended up in tears. Not really tears, but still … and that was just it, they hadn’t fucked like rabbits.

He rolled his eyes at himself. He felt like a character in a romance novel, some swooning, blushing virgin, which he most certainly wasn’t. But he guessed that love might do that to a man. Shutting off the faucet and drying his hands, he padded back to the bed and made enough movement getting back in that he knew Chris would wake up. A hazel eye peeked open, and Chris made a low sound in his throat, grabbing for Vin and enfolding him in strong arms. He wiggled them into a comfortable position, wickedly settled his half-hard cock along the cleft of Vin’s ass, and sighed, kissing Vin warmly on the back of his neck.

“I love you, Chris.”

Chris stopped, surprised, and stuttered, “I … I love you too … Vin.” He’d have to kiss the back of his neck more often if that was the reaction.

“I’ve never been loved before. Never known it, never felt it, never said it. Just so you know.”

Chris knew he needed to say something, but he wasn’t sure what, and he didn’t want to get all mushy. “I’ve never had anyone else in this bed but Sarah, if that means anything to you.” Vin nodded against his shoulder. That meant a whole hell of a lot. “Just so you know,” he echoed. Then he grinned a little. “Never would have thought you a cuddler, Tanner.”

“S’at mean you’re done already?”

“Not even by half.” Not likely forever. “You ok with that?”

“Think I can learn to live with it.” Vin lifted his teasing head and Chris tugged him into a heady good-morning kiss. When they broke, “Tell me something. Why didn’t you go home with anybody that night at the Flamingo?”

Vin puzzled. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna know.”

“Cause you thought I was so hung up on you I couldn’t do it?”

“No. Yes,” Larabee admitted, sniggering. “You want to know what it was? I was jealous. I would have been so fucking jealous of whoever you went home with. And I would have obsessed about it.”

“Naaawwww? You? Obsessed?”

That earned Vin a ferocious bout of tickling that left him in the fetal position panting for mercy. “I give! I give!” Chris stopped and hovered over him, inches from his face. “Cause I don’t want anybody else’s cock in my mouth but yours. That good enough for ya, Larabee? Bastard.” He stretched out beneath his lover, and Chris braced his hands beside Vin’s grinning face.

“Fair enough,” Chris allowed, exceedingly pleased. “Speaking of which …” He arched his back and snapped his now pulsing erection back and forth across Vin’s equally hard cock.

Vin sighed melodramatically, reaching down to stroke Chris deftly with his right hand. “You always this easy in the morning?”

“Oh yes,” Chris nodded shamelessly, claiming Vin’s rascally mouth before he could say anything else.

They ended up in 69. Twice.

It was a really good morning.

 + + + + + + +

Saturday and Sunday were almost indistinguishable. It was a blur. Except for the time spent with the rest of the team Christmas Day, Vin and Chris spent every minute awake or asleep entangled in each other’s arms. Sleeping, fucking, eating, lounging on the couch, sucking each other off, showering, fucking. For people with less stamina, it might have been totally exhausting. For people with less imagination, it would have become terribly monotonous. By all standards of measurement, it was the best weekend of Vin’s life.

Christmas at Josiah’s proved to be an exercise in restraint for all. Everyone studiously avoided the subject of Jack Hunter. No one talked about Chris’ suspension or how they would handle returning to work on Monday. Individually, the men attempted not to notice or joke about the multitude of love bites adorning the necks of their team leader and sharpshooter, likewise about Vin’s stiffness at sitting down. To a man, they all failed.

Buck commented that it appeared that the two men had been attacked by a swarm of leeches. Ezra observed that leeches do not, in fact, swarm. JD thought it looked more like they had fought with industrial vacuum attachments. Nathan made the comment that they shouldn’t bite one another without having rabies shots first since it would seem that they had both turned into wild animals. Josiah simply smiled, smiled way too much.

Buck’s comments about using saddles and bridles the next time they “take the horses for a long ride,” opened up a ripe discussion of the proper care and cleaning of leather products lead, to everyone’s surprise and Buck’s interest, by Special Agent Standish.

Chris and Vin endured the teasing as part of any male initiation ritual or right of passage. They were being accepted, not as individuals this time, but as a couple. It would have been a very serious thing but for the fact that everyone was having such a good time laughing about it. Only Buck knew what it truly meant for his oldest friend. Beneath his teasing and his ribbing, and his downright vulgar remarks, lurked genuine delight in Chris’ happiness.

“Hallelujah. It’s about fucking time,” he whispered to Ezra.

“What? Here? Now? Should we keep score?” He looked down at his Rolex. “I didn’t know there were schedules for such things these days.”

Ezra’s cheeky reply earned him a lengthy physical appraisal, and a smug smile beneath a moustache. “Well, two people can only be expected ta keep their hands off each other fer so long. And by my clock, it’s been way too long.” Had Buck not earned such a peerless reputation for never being serious, Ezra might have taken him for it. The look in his eyes said as much.

“What’s been too long, Buck?” Curse JD and his hyper-sensitive hearing.

“It’s been much too long since we took pleasure in Mr. Sanchez’ excellent hospitality,” Ezra covered gracefully, tipping his head to Josiah. Then he fled to the bar for another scotch. He might have been an escape artist in a former life.

“Thank you, Ezra. I am more than happy.”

Josiah had put the chili on hours ago. Ezra’s curry was in the oven keeping warm. Others had brought various standard pot-luck dishes which amassed an amount of food that it would be impossible to imagine seven men were capable of eating. Rain made that comment when she arrived, bringing what Nathan professed were the world’s best homemade dinner rolls.

When Josiah opened the door and invited her into the den, she put a hand on her hip, taking in the sprawl of bodies on various sections of furniture and floor and asked, “You boys have room for some estrogen in this hotbed of testosterone?”

Nathan rose and kissed her hello, trying to ignore Buck who used his best deep-south drawl to announce, “There’s always room for estrogen, ma’am.” Nathan took the rolls into the kitchen while she settled down into a seat on the couch that Vin vacated for her. “Good lord, Vin, what happened to you?” She leaned over and turned his face in her hands.

“Nate didn’t tell ya?” Vin hung his head, slightly embarrassed as Rain began to inspect him.

“No. It takes the jaws of life to pry information out of him.” She threw an irritated glance toward the kitchen. Then her demeanor softened and she smiled one of her butter-and-honey smiles. “Now I’m just guessing, but it looks like you’ve got two sets of bruises here made by two different people.” Vin blushed horribly. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Buck let out a loud, burly laugh and JD kicked him in the shin. Ezra took the opportunity to smile wickedly and reply, “Her name is Chris.”

Rain smiled until she caught Larabee aiming a high wattage glare at both Ezra and Buck across the room. Then she noticed the matching array of bruises on Chris’ neck and let her jaw drop comically. Nathan chose the moment to return, and put his arm around Rain only to have her elbow him in the ribs.

“What was that for?”

“For not telling me about Vin and Chris, you idiot. They’re my friends too.”

“Ma’am, in his defense, it’s all pretty recent.” Vin still looked awkward and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah – it’s recent,” Nathan protested, still holding his ribs.

“Oh well, whatever, you bunch of idiots. Congratulations, boys. I couldn’t be happier.” She gave Vin a little squeeze and kiss on the cheek. “You two deserve each other.”

“I keep thinking the exact … same … thing,” Ezra exaggerated for effect, using the alternate meaning of the phrase. “And your menacing stares do not frighten me, Mr. Larabee. I have to answer to Mr. Wilmington on Monday.” His saucy banter froze on his lips as he realized he shouldn’t have opened that proverbial can of worms in front of Rain. But he covered expertly, before she could voice her question. “Our esteemed leader is taking some well-earned and overdue vacation time.” Rain smiled and all was well again in the den. Vin thanked him with his eyes, scooting over to Chris and sitting beside him on the floor.

For hours they either watched or joined in playing a variety of X-box games JD had brought with him. Super Smash Brothers became a violent conflict with Vin and JD reigning supreme. It came as a surprise to everyone that Josiah emerged as ruling champion in the latest incarnation of Goldeneye. Vin challenged him to a rematch, in real life. Josiah just chuckled.

The games were postponed only once when Nettie and Casey arrived. JD immediately whisked Casey away to have her help him wrap a few very late Christmas gifts. Nettie found Vin in the kitchen grabbing more beers.

“Let me have a look at you. My, my, yes Casey said you’d had a little trouble recently. But by the looks of it, Chris has been taking more than good care of you.” Her eyes winked as she kissed Vin’s cheeks. Vin looked appropriately shocked. “Oh, come now. I’ve lived too long not to see what’s been in plain sight all along. You’ve been in love with that man all the while I’ve known you.” Chris walked in just in time to hear her ask, “Now, are you two boys using protection?” He froze in the doorway and tried to back out, but Nettie wasn’t to be fooled. “No you don’t, young man. Get back in here.” She pulled at Chris’ shirt collar and made a few satisfied sounds. “I see you’ve been taking care of one another. As it should be. You be good to him, you hear?”

“Only way to be, ma’am,” Chris replied, thoroughly embarrassed.

“And if you’re not, you’ll have to answer to me.” The aimed a crooked finger at him, threatening certain death.

“Yes, ma’am.” No one outside the team could ever imagine Chris Larabee being intimidated by a little wisp of an old woman. But he was, and Vin loved him for it. As if he needed another reason.

“Well, now that that’s settled, leave me to the food, boys. Someone has to be in charge of the kitchen. This meal can’t prepare itself, you know.” Even though it practically had.

She proceeded to take over the household, which was just fine by everyone. Dinner was served at 5, giving everyone plenty of time to gorge themselves and save room for dessert later. Josiah said grace, and then the men attacked the food like crocodiles wrestling their prey beneath the water, tearing it limb from limb. Nettie was forced to smack several hands with the wooden spoon she kept in her lap.

Ezra broke out the expensive espresso maker and the flavored coffees. Nettie served her famous coconut cream pie; Josiah had made his pecan. Afterwards, JD and Casey left early to catch a movie, Nathan and Rain left before everyone else got too drunk, and Vin drove Nettie home around 9:00.

Bleary-eyed with booze and sleepy in their food comas, the remaining teammates arranged themselves comfortably in the den, all but Ezra unbuttoning their pants so they could breathe.

“I don’t think I’m gonna eat again til New Years.”

“Sure you will, Buck. You’ve got that date with … what’s her name? Jill? Jaimey?”

“Judy.”

“The legal aid?”

“Court Reporter, Chris. Get your stories straight.”

“As long as you are capable of keeping them straight, Mr. Wilmington, that is what matters. Honestly, I don’t see how you do it.”

“He just calls them all darlin’ or sweetheart. Makes it easier.” Chris smiled smugly, delighting in the opportunity to tease Buck for a change.

“I wasn’t referring to his ability to remember their names. I was referring to his capacity for engaging in one meaningless romantic escapade after another … after another … after …”

“Now, hold on. They all mean something, Ez.”

“Yep, the next one means just as much as the one before, and the one after her, and the one after her.” He could have gone on indefinitely.

“Damn straight, Chris.” Buck ignored the sarcasm and saluted him with his nearly empty beer. His eighth or ninth, but he wasn’t counting.

“I don’t think you can accurately use that phrase in conjunction with Mr. Larabee,” Ezra commented with a small twitch of a grin. It earned him a laugh from Josiah, at least, who was not as asleep as he appeared to be, and a glare from Chris who muttered something like ‘takes one to know one.’

“A game of chance, gentlemen?” Ezra pretended he was deaf to the comment.

They gathered around the coffee table and let Ezra try to teach them how to play Texas Hold’em. The more they drank the more impossible it became to keep track of the rules, and the game dissolved into a very serious round of Go Fish. Vin slipped in virtually unnoticed by all except Josiah, and was happy just to sit back and watch until Chris’ head came up from his hand and he urgently asked, “What time is it? Has Vin come back yet?” He tried to stand and found his legs had gone to sleep.

“I’m right here, cowboy.” Vin slid down beside Chris and placed a hand at the small of his back.

Chris grinned stupidly and drew Vin into a noisy, sloppy kiss. Followed by another one, stroking the side of his face. Vin was surprised, embarrassed, totally loving it.

“Guys - please.” Buck was fanning his face with his cards in exaggerated fashion.

“Ok,” Chris tossed back, pushing Vin onto the carpet and going at his neck, the two of them giggling like girls.

“Jesus, you two.” Buck folded his hand on the table. Chris sat back up, pulling Vin with him, both of them smiling from ear to ear. “If you two start cooing and making baby sounds, I’m leaving.”

“Really?” Vin asked with far too much enthusiasm, “Is that all it takes?”

“Screw off.” Buck aimed a pillow at him.

“Ok, if you insist,” Larabee agreed with an insincere sigh, starting to undo his pants, but Vin stopped him, feeling that Buck had been tortured long enough.

“I believe that is the signal that our evening of revelry as come to an end. Buck, if you like, I can drive you to that post-natural-disaster scene of devastation you call a home, or I am certain Josiah will offer you the use of his divan.” Ezra’s façade was slipping, under duress he would call it, and he righted himself. “Mr. Larabee. Mr. Tanner. Mr. Sanchez.” He saluted each of them as he stood, and then helped Buck to his feet. Buck was sufficiently inebriated to need assistance getting to the front door, as was Chris. There were hugs all around, more than once, and they poured themselves into their vehicles.

Chris couldn’t keep his hands to himself the entire drive back. Vin had already decided that they would be spending the night at his apartment, and he pulled into his parking lot right about the time Larabee had unzipped, and was burrowing into, his pants.

“If you didn’t always park under this damn streetlight, I’d fuck you here in the truck,” Chris whispered hotly against Vin’s neck. “God you smell good.”

“C’mon inside cowboy and you can fuck me wherever you want.” Vin licked Chris’ lower lip but pulled away before Chris could deepen it to a real kiss.

Chris scowled a second before rubbing an eye with his fist. “If I’m still capable. Shit, I’m drunk.”

“Yes, you are. C’mon.”

They tripped up the stairs to Vin’s apartment, Chris groping him as much as possible on the way. They had barely squeezed through the door and shut it behind them when Chris was on him, pushing him against the door and smothering his mouth. He kissed him so hard their teeth clanked and he chuckled at himself. They shrugged off their coats and let them fall to the floor, their mouths and tongues still working feverishly to devour one another. Vin made short work of the buttons on Chris’ shirt and ran his hands down the sculpted torso in front of him, stopping to tweak nipples already hard from the cold.

Chris hissed at him and nipped his lower lip. “It’s not fair that I have like nineteen layers to get to do that to you.” Vin snorted and peeled off his three shirts all at once, throwing them somewhere in the dark living room. “Fuck. The things you do to me,” Chris rasped, trying to touch all of Vin at once. He attacked Vin’s jawline with single-minded resolve, sucking and licking, basically succeeding in covering the man’s face and neck with saliva. Vin slid his hands down the back of Larabee’s jeans and massaged his ass, grinding their cocks together. Beautiful friction beneath the layers of clothing.

“You want to do this here, cowboy, or somewhere else?”

“I don’t care.” Chris paused briefly to answer him, then grabbed a handful of hair and tugged Vin’s head to the side to gain better access to all that wonderful flesh behind the ear.

“Christ,” Vin hissed, “apparently not.” He began to guide Chris backwards toward the couch, undoing their pants as they walked. He chuckled deep in his throat when he realized Chris had gone commando. “Copycat.” Chris only hummed his response and stuck his tongue in Vin’s ear.

“Hold that thought,” Vin panted. He was having a hell of a time forming words. “I need to … get stuff. From the bathroom.” Chris growled, but let go of his ear, and stood aside, swaying slightly as he shoved his jeans down his hips. “Ok, you’re definitely not too drunk,” Vin remarked, dragging his hand up and around his lover’s full erection.

“Keep that up and I’m doing you bareback, Tanner.”

Vin was sorely tempted, but retreated to the bathroom before he could give in. He hastily retrieved condoms, lube, and towels and returned to the living room to find Larabee completely naked and sitting back on the couch stroking himself. Diffused light from the street cast a magnificent blue glow on the man, and Vin’s breath caught in his throat.

Sex God were the words that formed in the back of his mind. He placed the supplies on the coffee table, bumped it back a little, and fell to his knees in worship before his lover.

Chris guided Vin’s enthusiastic mouth to his cock and all but forced him down on it. Vin hummed happily. Chris had been everything but forceful during their love-making, tender and careful and more romantic than Vin would have thought him capable. But tonight Vin wanted to be fucked senseless. Wanted to be thrown down, fucked hard, and put away wet. He figured he was in for it, and he was hurting with anticipation.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yeah,” Chris breathed, watching Vin’s head bob up and down on his cock. “Goddamn.” Vin was taking him almost to his balls, sucking hard, zig-zagging his tongue along the pulsing vein on the underside of his dick. Chris rolled his head onto the back of the couch and grabbed handfuls of hair, breathing hard and encouraging softly until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Get up, Tanner. Turn around. On your knees.” Vin obeyed willingly, his own breath staggered and impatient. He knelt on the couch, spreading his legs and arching his back, crying out when Chris swiped his tongue over his hole.

“Oh God, Chris.” He could do nothing more but moan continuously and loudly as Chris proceeded to rim him, rolling his tongue around and around, and finally thrusting it into Vin’s passage, in and out, spreading Vin’s cheeks and burying his face between them. Licking was accompanied by occasional nipping, and slobbery kissing. Vin would have never guessed Chris to be such an enthusiast for the act. Hallelujah, he was wrong.

He moaned in disappointment when the glorious rimming stopped. He could hardly hear the rip of the condom and the juicy smack of lube over his harsh breathing and the heartbeat in his ears. His cock was dripping and throbbing and if he had had any more to drink, he was sure he would have passed out by now from sheer dizziness.

One hand on his hip and a deep massage of gel into his crack prepared him for the ecstasy to come. Chris pushed into him in one, long, hard thrust, both of them groaning at the contact. Vin heard himself repeating, almost chanting, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” and Chris didn’t waste any time.

He grabbed a hold of one shoulder, maintaining a similar iron grip on one hip, and slammed into Vin with almost punishing force. He established a vigorous rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and hammering back in, pile-driving his lover against the sofa. One of the benefits of being very drunk was that he could sustain the pace for an incredibly long time. The sound and smell of sweaty flesh slapping and precum oozing filled the living room, punctuated with sharp moans at the end of every hard thrust.

“You are so fucking tight … god … fuck …” Chris growled and leaned down to bite Vin on the back. Vin yelped and Chris soothed the bite mark with his tongue, continuing to snarl low in his throat. He began to angle his thrusts to hit Vin’s pleasure point, and Vin shuddered and moaned into the fabric of the couch, gripped it tight in his fists and squinting his eyes against the near pain Chris was inflicting on him. “Tell me you love me, Vin. I want to hear you say it.”

Vin groaned long before shakily replying, “You know I do, Chris. Oh Christ!”

Chris rammed him sharply and repeated, almost shouted, “I want to hear you say it. Say it!”

“Jesus. God.” Vin was almost sobbing. “I love you. You know I do. I love you … I love you.”

Chris reached around Vin and grabbed his cock, stroking it hard, propelling Vin into a loud, shattering orgasm. He ground himself deep in his lover’s ass, feeling the muscles clench unimaginably tight. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh God, Vin.” Mouth open, eyes closed, face contorted, he came, and kept coming, for what seemed like forever, his movements now spastic and uncontrolled.

It was only after he felt like his legs could no longer hold him up that he realized his hands were the only things holding Vin up. Chris quickly pulled out and lay Vin down on the couch, kneeling beside him and tapping the side of his face repeatedly. “Oh shit, Vin. Tanner, wake up. Oh shit.” Vin came around dazedly, his eyes not opening all the way. “Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?” Chris placed gentle kisses on his mouth and eyes. “Baby, are you ok?”

Ok? Jesus, Chris, I wanted you to fuck me senseless. I just didn’t think you’d do it.”

Chris smiled, relieved, and lay his forehead down on Vin’s sweaty chest. As an afterthought, he reached down and slipped off the condom, tying it sloppily and tossing it over his shoulder. “I love you, you know. So fucking much.” His words were sweet and slurred, his forehead tilting side to side on Vin’s chest.

“Yeah, cowboy, I know. And if I can stand, we should get to the bedroom before we pass out. Again.” He winked at Chris, and they helped each other achieve a more or less upright position. “Damn, I think I pulled something.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris mumbled, almost asleep on his feet, “if it was too much.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Definitely a sex god. Definitely. “Ain’t nothin’ you got I can’t handle.”

That earned him a smack on the ass and a grunt from his lover. “Uppity Texan …”

They crawled into bed, not bothering to do more than swipe at the semen still on Vin’s stomach. Most of it had hit the back of his couch. Vin idly wondered if he hadn’t ripped the fabric along the top of it; his hands were sore from gripping it so hard.

Chris spooned up against his lover, throwing both and arm and leg over him, and hiding his face in the soft, slightly damp brown locks before him. “Next time, you can do that to me.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

“You ever done that before?”

“Nope.” He yawned. “But like you said, hold that thought. I don’t think either of us could get it up with a forklift right now.” He chuckled softly at himself.

“You wanna bet?” Vin was feeling much more awake now.

Chris laughed again, but his muffled words were just on the edge of sleep. “I wouldn’t put it past you, Tanner. I love you.”

“Goodnight, cowboy.” After his lover’s snores were all he could hear, Vin whispered, “I love you too, Chris. More than life.”

He stayed awake for some time then, just listening to Chris breathe.

The weekend is over

Vin sat down at his desk gingerly, muffling a grunt in his coffee cup. Much like working out in the gym, this was a welcome and wonderful kind of sore. Chris had outdone himself. He’d outdone Vin.

He had left Chris sound asleep in his bed, placing a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water by the bedside. Lord, but the man was beautiful in the morning. He was beautiful at all times, but there was something about him in the morning light that made him look ethereal. Hard edges softened, all stress abated, peaceful and almost serene. Chris would punch him if he ever heard that.

Chris half-woke up when Vin kissed him goodbye, and smiled as he dug himself back under the covers. Getting suspended had never felt so good. He told Vin he’d be at the ranch later.

Vin’s bruises were beginning to fade, both old and new, both emotional and physical, although he wore a turtleneck to hide the most conspicuous collection. JD was chatting with online game playing buddies in foreign countries. Josiah was reading some thick and indecipherable tome. Nathan was bidding on a set of throwing knives on Ebay. Ezra came in late. It was basically business as usual Monday morning, Buck letting them do as they pleased, since they had no new cases that week, and he had no inclination to begin the mound of paperwork in Larabee’s inbox.

It was business as usual until a little after 11.

Buck flung open Chris’ office door and shouted, “Conference room, now. Chris has been arrested.”

They piled into the conference room, where Buck was doing a very credible impersonation of his oldest friend, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair and swearing through his teeth.

“Chris just called. Hunter is out of the hospital and claiming that he only drew his knife to defend himself from Chris. He says that Vin called him to come over, to talk, and that, in a fit of jealous rage, Chris tried to kill him.”

“What the fuck!” Vin couldn’t believe it. “No one is seriously buying that load of horseshit are they?”

“Consider the evidence, Mr. Tanner.” Calm as ever, Ezra folded his hands on the tabletop and spoke at a measured pace. “I was worried that this might happen. In the eyes of the law, it is only your word again his. You and Hunter were teammates. You never officially reported what happened to you in Dallas, neither have any of us mentioned it to the authorities. There is no reason for him not to visit you. And bringing up accusations of what occurred in Dallas, or the tapes Hunter allegedly mailed last Monday, would only give Mr. Larabee a stronger motive to kill him, would it not? Mr. Larabee is known for his temper, you two are rumored to be lovers – there is no evidence to suggest that his story is false.”

“There’s no telling who else has a copy of that tape, by now.” Nathan winced as he thought about it.

“No, I disagree – Ezra, Nate.” Josiah was leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers before his mouth. “That rumor isn’t widespread, though Hunter could be starting it up now. But spreading the audio tape around would cause more trouble, would open the door for us to use the evidence we have against him, to prove that he was the one who sent it. His is a simple accusation. If he brings the tape into it, then we can bring Dallas into it, and it gets very, very messy.”

“But we’re right. Maybe we should bring the tape into it, bring everything out into the open.”

Vin looked up at JD, wishing that what the kid had just said didn’t make so much fucking sense. This was what he was most afraid of, that Chris would go down for him. And Chris would do it too, Goddamn noble bastard.

“Gentlemen, there is yet a different tape we could employ. Mr. Wilmington, Mr. Dunne, are you still in possession of the surveillance material you gathered earlier at the residence of Hunter’s mistress?”

Buck smiled. “You bet your ass we are.”

“Indeed that would be a safe bet.” He winked. “Then, I do believe we could quietly persuade Mr. Hunter to drop his charges without much fanfare. Do you concur?”

“But how? Without implicating ourselves?”

“Mr. Dunne, we needn’t announce the fact. We merely need to contact the man with, for example, a request that he meet us to discuss the terms under which he might drop the charges. A man of his dubious character will assume we mean to bribe him.”

“You’re one sneaky son of a bitch, Ez.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tanner.”

“Won’t he think to wear a wire or something?” JD’s mind was always looking at all the angles, running a mile a minute. “Won’t he think we’re gonna be wired?”

“Well, kid, you think you can scare up one of those wire scanner thingies? We prove we ain’t wired, we prove he ain’t wired.”

“And if you need someone to run security, make sure he hasn’t brought along a group of his pals, Josiah and I could do it.”

“That is most generous of you, Mr. Jackson.” Ezra tipped an invisible hat. “Mr. Wilmington, what do you have to allow?”

“I’ll tell Chris. And I’ll let Travis know that we’ve got it covered. He won’t want to know the details.”

“Well then, in the words of our illustrious and inimitable leader, let’s ride.”

They filed out of the conference room, Buck to talk to Travis, JD to gather the evidence, Ezra to find a pay phone and call Hunter. Buck only told Travis that they were taking care of it. Travis warned them not to break the law or he would fire the lot of them. Buck promised, with his fingers crossed behind his back. Plausible deniability was the only thing he could offer the Assistant Director.

Ezra got a hold of Hunter with relative ease, and they agreed to meet that night at a bar downtown. They’d come full circle. It began in a bar, felt appropriate that it should end in one too.

Snow was packed hard on the ground, crunching under their tires as the team arrived at the appointed destination. They entered in pairs, all except Vin. Vin stayed outside in Buck’s truck, chewing on his thumbnail, pissed as hell that they were making him stay out of it. But he knew they were right. If he saw Hunter, he would be far too tempted to destroy what was left of his face.

+ + + + + + +

It went very smoothly, surprisingly; the meet, the exchange – smoothly but for the sheer volume of insults and curse words used. Sadly, Ezra would note, they lacked much variety.

It was comfortably dark, busily noisy, and Buck, Ezra and JD took seats at a table and waited. Hunter was easy to spot, his face mummified in bandages, and they signaled for him to join them. JD produced the ingenious device that would prove none of them were wired. Josiah and Nathan hid in the shadows, watching for and spotting two of Hunter’s friends, one of whom was the man Vin had met and the Blue Flamingo. They stopped them and held them quietly at a nearby table, Josiah using subtle promises of physical violence to keep them in line.

As predicted, Hunter expected to be offered a bribe, and spoke arrogantly even past the wires holding his jaw shut. “This surgery alone is gonna cost sixty-five grand. I expect a hundred. Thousand. Or I’m taking you all down.”

“Fuck that. Your insurance will cover the surgery.” Buck’s gall was up.

Ezra clamped a hand on Buck’s thigh, a stern instruction to keep quiet. He had already coached the boys to remain silent and to let him do all the talking. Still, he had to keep his hand firmly on Buck’s leg to remind him of that.

“And I don’t fucking care,” Hunter spat, “That’s my price.”

“I am … terribly sorry, Mr. Hunter, but I fear you must learn to live with disappointment.”

“Then this meeting is fucking over. Larabee will get what’s coming to him.” Hunter made ready to stand.

“Ah, yes comeuppance.” Ezra didn’t let his cool composure slip one inch. “In the end, we all get what we deserve Mr. Hunter. Some of us sooner than others. For my part, I pray I never truly get what I deserve, in this life or the next. I cannot, however, speak for you.” Like a magician, he smoothly produced an envelope out of nowhere and slid it across the table.

“What the fuck is this?”

“How ironic you should use those words, Mr. Hunter.” There was only the faintest glint of a smile in his fiery jade eyes. By some sort of divine irony, the song Your Cheatin’ Heart came on the jukebox.

Hunter opened the envelope and, if he had been able to, he would have gaped in shock at the photos it contained. His one good eye was wide enough to convey the sentiment. JD took a tape recorder out of his pocket and pushed play, the volume only loud enough for the table. Hunter angrily curled one of the photos into his fist. What could be seen of his face was bright red.

“You cocksucking bastards!” Grotesque sounds of rough sex hovered over the table.

Ezra smiled, slow and mean, his words coated with a sinister honey. “Again, I cannot speak for all present, but I am indeed a bastard and am quite masterfully skilled in the art of fellatio. You speak as if you have some experience in the discipline.”

“Yeah, getting my cock sucked, you sick freak.”

“Oh that’s a pity.” Ezra was relishing the part. “There really is nothing like the sublime feeling of taking another man in your mouth, relaxing your throat and swallowing his nectar.”

“I’ll fucking rip your dick off and shove it down your own throat, you motherfucking asshole.” His words were choked with rage.

“I take it then, Mr. Hunter, that you rightly understand our position on the matter. Mr. Dunne, you may shut off the tape recorder now.” Ezra leaned back in the booth, straightening his cuffs, his expression returning to its normal bland neutrality.

“Yeah, I fucking understand. You’ll get yours. All of you. I’m not finished with you yet.”

“That sounded like a threat, Buck.” All eyes shot up to see Vin approaching to stand behind Hunter. He had finally entered the car through a side door, unable to wait any longer, and was now leaning casually against the wall. Hunter tried to whip his head around, cursing when he couldn’t.

“It did, didn’t it. What do you think, Ez?”

“Mr. Hunter, might I point out to you that we are, in fact, doing you a favor? We all know that your allegations against Mr. Larabee are malicious and false. We have proof that you sent those anonymous tape recordings to the ATF – you really ought to have worn gloves – and Mr. Tanner here will happily disclose all of the events that occurred over the period of months before he left Dallas. Furthermore, we have a witness who can corroborate his story there, and testify against you and your former associates.”

He took a breathe, leaning forward to stare a hole through Hunter’s skull. “You cannot win this, in court or otherwise. Save your impotent threats for people who might be fooled by your equally empty bravado. Or, if you are feeling magnificently bold, say, perhaps, if you feel the need to overcompensate for some other grievous shortcoming,” he leered, “then by all means, please continue. But keep in mind that you owe your very life, such as it is,” he added with an audible and visible sneer, “to Mr. Tanner. Mr. Larabee could have easily beaten you to death. It is only due to Mr. Tanner that he didn’t.”

Hunter was so angry he couldn’t speak.

“Well, then, gentlemen,” Ezra cleared his throat at that, “I would think that this concludes our meeting.”

JD signaled Josiah and Nathan, and the team rose in unison, leaving Hunter sitting at the table in defeat, staring at the lewd photos of him and a woman he had only met for a one night stand. No one in the bar paid any attention to them as they left, and they left Hunter to pick up the tab.

“Mr. Tanner, tell me, were you responsible for the choice of music?”

“Yeah,” Vin snickered. “Thought it was too good to pass up.”

Buck slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked, picking their way along the slick ground. “You make us proud, Junior. You too, Ez. That was one damn fine performance!”

“I have my moments,” he replied quietly, saluting the rest of them as he headed for his jag. He wouldn’t ever tell them that it wasn’t a performance at all.

+ + + + + + +

Magically all charges against Chris were dropped the next day. He didn’t even have to be arraigned. He would eventually scold and thank all of them in turn – after all, it would ruin his image to appear overly grateful – reminding them what idiots they were to take such a risk, congratulating them (especially Ezra) on being the most plucky group of underhanded sons of bitches he’d ever known. But that would have to wait.

Vin went to pick him up, Buck using his short-lived authority to give him the rest of the day off. Chris strolled out, looking like hell and smelling like stale sweat and other people’s body odor, and he waited until they were stopped at a traffic light some distance from the prison before leaning over and kissing Vin soundly.

“Missed you.” Chris entwined his fingers with Vin’s, and Vin echoed the sentiment. “Are the boys gonna leave us alone for a while? Or should I expect some sort of reenactment of the bar scene when we get back home.”

“Nah, they know better than to come out here for a while.” Vin was smiling at the thought of Buck, or God help him, JD catching them bare-ass naked on the living room floor. “You should have seen, Ez, pard, he was on. It was awesome.”

“You sound like JD. You fallin’ for Ezra now?” Chris began to nibble on Vin’s fingers, a fiendish light in his eyes.

“He did say we should have a threesome sometime.”

“Seriously?” For a second, Chris thought he was.

Vin nodded his head, but said, “No.” Laughing, “I think Buck is flirting with him.”

“Now, that would be the end of life as we know it. Damn, I cannot wait to get home and shower.” Larabee sighed and stretched his legs to the baseboard of the cab.

“Your shower still big enough for two?” Vin wiggled a little in his seat. Home could not come soon enough. He could not come soon enough. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

“Was the last time I checked. Unless you’ve done some serious remodeling while I’ve been gone.” Chris drew Vin’s forefinger into his mouth and began sucking energetically.

Vin sped up.

They arrived at the ranch in record time and threw off clothes behind them as they dashed for the shower. Hands all over one another, unable to get enough contact, the shower turned into a sensual full body massage for both of them. Vin wanted to wash away every memory of Chris’ night in jail; Chris wanted to ease the solid tension he felt in the other man, to much time spent worrying about him while he was gone. Their fingers soothed, explored, teased. Lather and kisses and soft moans of encouragement. They soon used up all the hot water in the tank, and nearly half a bottle of body gel. Vin made Chris stand still as he knelt before him and toweled him dry. Most of him. Kneeling gave him the opportunity to suck Chris’ half-mast erection to full life, Chris humming throatily and tugging on Vin’s lank hair. Alright, enough foreplay – Chris didn’t let Vin finish drying himself. He knew they’d be wet again in due time.

Supplies were already on the bedside table, he noted, as they kissed themselves into bed, chuckling and sighing. It had only been 24 hours and it felt like forever. The fatigue Chris had felt upon being released had completely disappeared, Vin’s seemingly boundless energy giving his a invigorating spike. He pulled Tanner on top of him, laughing when wet hair hit him in the face.

“You get to sleep in the wet spot,” he teased, suckling an earlobe.

Vin ground his naked hips into Chris’, pinning their cocks between them and twisting back and forth. Chris drug his hands down Vin’s back, kneading the firm muscles, finally cupping Vin’s equally firm ass and pulling them impossibly closer. An idea came to him and he leaned back into his pillow, eyes wide.

“Come up here.” He tugged; Vin looked confused. Grinning a scary grin, he explained. “On my face. I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Vin’s eyes went wide then too, and he paused a second as though he hadn’t heard Chris correctly. And a second was all it took for him to scramble up Chris’ torso and spread his legs aside the older man’s head, cock dangling down to his parted lips. He braced both hands against the wall and stared down into Chris’ bright eyes, gasping aloud when heated breath blew across the head of his cock. This was better than any fantasy he’d ever had. Chris fucking his mouth was one thing, but this. Oh gawd. A slick tongue followed the moist breaths, circling, tormenting, digging into the weeping slit. Larabee used his hands on Vin’s ass to guide him forward and back, taking him deeper and deeper as his jaw would allow. He closed his eyes and worked his mouth, lips plied tight, tongue curled around the underside of the organ, humming as Vin thrust and moaned.

As Vin picked up on an acceptable rhythm, Chris let his hands roam free, up Vin’s stomach, over his nipples, down his ribs. He willed his throat to swallow, tried not to choke as Vin jerked. Reaching around Vin’s legs, feeling the scratch of his own chin, he lightly grazed Vin’s balls, stroked the folds of skin and that fantastic smooth patch of skin behind. But he’d offered something more the last time they were together, and made a decision to follow through with it.

He gently eased Vin out of his mouth and met shrouded eyes staring unfocused at his face. “I was serious when I said I’d let you take me. I want you to.”

Vin waddled backwards a little and read Chris’ expression for any signs of hesitance. Seeing none, he nodded, and swallowed. “Ok. Ok, It’s easiest … face down … the first time.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Vin lifted a leg and let Chris turn over, feeling an wanton surge of glee at what was about to happen. He suppressed the urge to growl possessively. When he first touched Chris’ ass, Chris tensed noticeably, and he smiled to himself. Easy was a relative term when dealing with Larabee. But, as he always said, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. So he started massaging Chris’ back, languidly, sensually, ardently kissing his skin as he eased the tension out of the corded muscles. He could feel Chris relax beneath him, could hear his breath even out, and he moved lower until he was pressing him thumbs into the muscles of Larabee’s ass. His mouth followed, kissing each cheek, and at long last exploring Chris’s crack with his tongue. Lean legs were spread a little wider, and a grinned again at the unspoken invitation to do all the exploring he wanted.

Nettie was right – as well it should be.

Chris uttered a muffled “Wow” when Vin first tongued his hole. And then another much longer syllable lost in the pillows as Vin began to rim him, eagerly, slowly, spreading him a little wider to fuck him with his tongue. God he loved this taste, loved the earthy decadent scent, loved how Chris relaxed with him, moved his hips with him, and occasionally clenched his muscle around his tongue. That fucking rocked. He could do this forever, but his body was begging for more. Definitely more.

Stopping, easing his tongue out with one last lick, he kept one hand on Larabee’s back and reached over for the necessary items. Chris glanced back at him, a clearly nervous stiffness in his countenance. “There’s more?” He asked, laughing at himself and his own childish anxiety. He met Vin’s caring eyes and shared tight smile.

“Oh yeah. There’s more.”

Too much more, by the look of it. Vin was never going to fit. His mouth was one thing, but … Chris gulped, and said, “Don’t I need to be on my knees?”

Kindly, softly, “That would help, yeah, but we’re getting there.” Vin was warming gel between his fingers, sliding a condom on one-handed. Chris felt utterly, wholly vulnerable for the first time in his life. He levered himself to his knees and buried his face in a pillow, body unconsciously bracing itself against the pain he expected to come.

Vin observed this and used his unsticky hand to rub slow circles into Larabee’s lower back. The other hand he used to prepare his lover, shaking his head at how tense Chris had suddenly become. “Ssshhhh. Just relax. Relax, cowboy. I promise, you’ll love this.” Beckoning, he pressed one finger more forcefully against Chris’ clenched hole. Several times he repeated the entreaty until he finally felt he could breach the resistance without hurting him.

Chris felt the finger enter him and held his breath. It burned, sort of. Was warm and strange and, well, foreign. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, and he laughed.

“What? What’re you feeling?”

Chris turned his head to answer. “Feels weird.”

“It would. Pain?”

“No.”

“Good.” Vin coaxed him past the tension and slid a second finger into the heated channel, Chris gasping then holding his breath again. Now it really felt weird, but bordering on pleasurable. When Vin’s other hand swept around to his cock, it definitely felt pleasurable.

“Oh.” The syllable was surprised, happy. Indulged. Chris started moving his hips a little.

“That’s all you have to say? Oh?” Vin grinned wickedly as he pushed in a little further and rubbed Chris’ pleasure point.

Oh! Do that again.”

“Happy to.” And he did. He stroked Chris’ heavy cock slowly, not enough to get him off, and smiled wider as he felt Chris’ muscles ease off his fingers, continuing to massage him on the inside. He wanted to laugh giddily at Chris’ protracted moans and jolts. “What do you feel now?”

“Like sludge with lightning in it.”

Vin did laugh then. “Are you ready?” The first response was garbled, a mixed moan and word, with a tiny whimper on the end. “Good,” he said on a chuckle.

“Yeah. Shit. You could just do that. Fuck.” He was breathing very heavily.

“I will do that,” Vin promised huskily, removing his fingers with care and immediately replacing the sensation with the head of his slick cock. He pressed in before Chris could tense up, then stopped as Chris made a sound that might have been in pain. Pleasuring the hard flesh in his hand allowed for plenty of time for Chris to relax into him, and he whispered soothing nonsense until he knew he could continue. Just a little at a time, desperately fighting the urge to ram his lover into the headboard, and through the wall. His own breathing became labored. “More?”

“There’s more?” Chris sounded half sarcastic, half frightened. Vin began to laugh, pulling Chris along with him, the two of them feeling pretty damn silly.

Vin used the distraction of laughter to thrust all the way in, grinding his teeth at the heat and friction of it. “Damn, cowboy.” Chris was panting loudly and Vin waited for him to settle a bit.

“You have to move, Vin. That’s really hot in there.” It was hot and wide and horribly stimulating.

“You’re telling me,” Tanner replied, breathless. He took his hand off of Chris’ cock, regretting the little voiced protest that resulted, and used both his hands to hold both hips steady as he began to pull back. Just enough, not too far, and then sliding back in with a grunt. Slow was better for Chris, but hell on his self-control, and Chris’ moans were not helping.

Vocal Chris had never been. Up until this point.

He let the pillow smother most of his noises, too distracted to be very embarrassed, too brainless to turn his head. Then Vin did as promised and started hitting his prostate, and he cried out and shuddered, pushing back hard against the hips that were bumping into him. But that was sudden and too much and he almost yelped.

“Breathe, Chris. You gotta move your face or you’ll pass out.” Vin stilled and waited for Chris to obey.

“God, don’t stop.” Chris pushed himself up onto his hands, panting harshly. “I feel like I have to take a piss.”

“But you feel good?”

Hell yeah. You?”

He laughed again. As if he had to ask. “Feels fucking amazing, Chris. You are so damn tight. God.”

Vin stopped speaking then and started concentrating on his thrusts, the angle, the speed, paying close attention to every sound Chris made. Most of them were uncontrolled and loud, and then without warning he came, suddenly spilling over the edge, thrusting his own hips beneath Vin, groaning in his ecstasy. Tanner didn’t let himself follow. He pulled out almost all the way, gripping the base of his cock in a tight fist, feeling Chris shudder in front of him.

He had to pull Chris back and up, to keep him from falling to the bed, and began again, slowly at first, gripping both hips, biting his lower lip in concentration. Now Chris was chanting his name, quiet and mesmerized, punctuated by soft curses and helpless moans. Vin made sure he hit Chris’ pleasure point with every lunge and circled around to take him in hand once more, feeling his cock fill again at the dual stimulation.

Arms shaking, Chris fell to his elbows, lacking the strength to do anything but breathe. He had never felt anything like this, didn’t think that the human body was meant to withstand such pleasure. It was excruciating. Incredibly, impossibly, he knew he was close to orgasm again and told himself to move. Just lying there totally useless wasn’t his style. Vin appreciated the effort, moaning and grunting as Chris pushed back into him, their speed increasing, their hearts racing.

“I wantcha to come for me, Chris. Do it. Come on…”

Jesus … fuck, fuck … gaawwwddd.”

Vin felt Chris jerk and explode onto his hand, and the related spasms around his cock brought his own release, hard and powerful, grinding himself deep into his lover with a few choice cries of his own. If he could bottle his current feelings and sell them, he’d never have to work another day in his life. The two of them held position, shaking and wheezing, until Chris began to laugh again.

“I think you killed me.”

Vin had to laugh with him, and gingerly withdrew from the unbelievably tight passage, trembling as he did so. Chris collapsed immediately, chuckling quietly into the pillow, feeling the results of two orgasms squish beneath him.

On unsteady legs, Vin got up, tossed the condom, and brought back towels. One wet one to clean up, one dry one to sleep on. They were a mess, as were the sheets.

Dazed and unfocused eyes greeted Vin’s as he slipped back into bed, arranging a towel, gathering the sheets and blankets around them. “I’m gonna be sore in the morning,” Chris grumbled, one side of his mouth upturned in a sated grin. “You destroyed me.”

“Next time, I want to be able to kiss you while we do that.” Vin promptly kissed him tenderly, warmly, snuggling into him, savoring Chris’ hum of agreement. “Not hurt?” He pulled back an inch, rubbing his nose against his lover’s.

“Nah. You’re one hell of a great fuck, you know that?” Hazel eyes smirked sleepily. Really, really, really great.

“Y’ain’t so bad yourself, cowboy.”

“Yeah, well,” Chris grunted as he moved and his backside complained a little uncomfortably, “you’ll just half to teach me how to do that multiple orgasm thing.”

Vin kissed him again, chortling elatedly. “Takes lots of practice. Lots.”

“Not tonight, dear, I have a head ache,” was the yawning reply. Excess movement was utterly impossible just then. “Love you.”

“Love you too, cowboy. Welcome home.”

The drifted asleep smiling, a tangle of body parts, looking forward to lots of practice when the woke up. Lots.

New Years, and after

The boys needed to celebrate – more than just the new year.

They had already done that in grand fashion, at the ranch, getting pissed on whiskey and beer, eating their way through six large pizzas, and sleeping on dismantled sofa cushions on the living room floor. Except, of course, for the owner of the house and his wildly drunken, wildly horny lover. The others slept right through the sound of the headboard banging against the bedroom wall.

Upon Chris’ initial return to the office, Travis had called in a few favors and had arranged to have the review panel held as soon as possible. He had made no comments concerning the fact that Larabee and Tanner both wore turtlenecks for a full week. He was no fool. But he did speak with both of them separately, sternly, warning them to keep it out of the office.

He had meant what he said to Vin. He would not have the dynamic of the team disrupted in any way. What happens out of the office stays out of the office. He made certain everyone understood this. The review panel was being assembled to discuss Chris’ actions, not Vin’s. Vin was ostensibly in the clear.

This didn’t mean that the other members of the team wouldn’t be interviewed, which they were, and Ezra appointed himself Vin’s advocate, in name if not in function, grilling him ceaselessly on the questions he could expect and tutoring him on how to respond.

Body language. Eyes front at all times. Do not look left or right when answering. And answer precisely – no more or less than what is asked. Offer no details. Offer no excuses. Do not shift in your seat. Stop fidgeting with your hands. Don’t lose your temper.

Vin had performed brilliantly. As had the others. JD’s wide-eyed innocent look went a long way to convince the panel that Chris was the real victim here. Larabee’s suspension remained in place for a further three weeks, with the promise of anger management when he returned. Three weeks of sleeping in and lounging around in his boxers. Maybe he should get suspended more often.

That didn’t mean he didn’t stop by the office, every now and then. If nothing else, he could help Vin with paperwork, relieving Ezra of that function for the time being. And it wouldn’t hurt to go out to lunch with his sharpshooter from time to time. Strictly business of course. No one in the bullpen batted an eye at the fact that, upon occasion, Vin would return from these ‘lunches’ with a bag of take out food and his hair artistically disheveled. They didn’t bat eyes, but they sure as hell did tease.

And so, one Friday, as they closed the offices, the team was debating whether to go out for drinks at the saloon or somewhere else. They were wanting to try someplace new, and Vin shocked the hell out of everyone with his calm suggestion.

“I kinda want to head back to the Blue Flamingo.”

Stunned silence reigned until JD and his rapid-fire brain asked, “Why, is it ladies night?”

Mouths twitched, chuckles were stifled, Ezra appreciatively uttering, “I think that has to be one of the greatest double-entendres ever spoken, Mr. Dunne. Well done.”

“Or Freudian slips,” Josiah quipped. And then everyone knew it was alright to laugh out loud.

“I have an entire closet full of those, Mr. Sanchez. And these little garters that fasten onto …”

“Jesus Christ, Ezra, that’s one mental image I don’t need.” Chris just held his face in his hands as he laughed.

“Oh, I can picture it,” Buck declared with great feeling. “I remember you on the Frenelli case. A stunning vision in green silk.” Everyone had to admit that Ezra looked remarkably good in drag.

“You have all lost your minds,” Chris threw at them, fleeing for the exit, “I’m leaving.”

“I thought you weren’t into hairy asses, Buck.” Vin plastered a toothy smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know that my derriere is not in the least hirsute.” Ezra swaggered saucily as he followed the two of them out the doors.

“This is gross, guys.” JD was only mildly disgusted.

“You’re saying it ain’t furry?” Buck was rushing to catch up, leaving Nathan and Josiah to lock the doors. “What do you do, wax it?” An enigmatic smile with a coy flick of an eyebrow was his only response. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

“I beg your pardon!”

The team crowded into the elevator, save for Vin and Chris who jogged down the stairs and arrived at the same time as the elevator car. The rest of the boys were still discussing the alleged hairless state of Ezra’s ass. Josiah and Nathan both said they would be designated drivers, and everybody dispersed into various automobiles.

The Blue Flamingo was packed. Chris and Buck said hello to John Larousse, and to Sean, who didn’t remember having ever seen Buck. A material witness he could never be. They took a large, round booth along one wall furthest away from the smoke, and tacitly, everyone made sure Vin and Chris could sit next to one another. There were colorful martinis and beer, shots of whiskey and glasses of mineral water. Little canapés and tapas and fried calamari.

Chris realized why Vin had chosen the place, weeks before as well as this evening. It was a fantastic club, and Vin wasn’t going to let one bad incident keep him from living his life. He was bolstered, obviously, by the support of his six closest friends, and more discreetly by the warm hand that kept making its way to his thigh, and up. He felt better than good.

Conversation was cheerful, and laughter abundant, the crisis over Christmas completely forgotten. And JD wanted to learn how to dance.

“I don’t think the kind of dancin’ I know how to do is legal here, if you know what I mean.” Buck waggled his eyebrows.

“What manner of dance are you interested in learning, Mr. Dunne.”

“I dunno. Something I can impress Casey with?” JD looked hopeful; impressing Casey was difficult to achieve.

“You can most sincerely impress a woman by being honest, brother, by being yourself.”

Rolling his eyes, JD turned back to Ezra. “So you know how to dance?”

“I’d be willing to bet Ez has cut a rug or two in his day.” Vin laid down the challenge, and Ezra accepted, rising and taking JD by the hand. Buck glowered.

The next few songs were all Latin-based, the rhythm complex, but easy to dance to. Ezra made it look easy. His natural grace and control, and the beguiling swing of his hips, had everyone at the table staring. Chris laughed when Vin whispered something about making him pay later for staring. He liked the way Vin exacted payments.

Ezra had JD doing the cha-cha and the rumba rather well by the time a song came overhead that made Vin whisper something else.

Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses?
You been out ridin’ fences for so long now.

Chris shook his head and mouthed “No,” but Vin slid out and held out his hand, palm up, to his reluctant partner.

Oh, you’re a hard one. I know that you got your reasons …

“Please, cowboy. Dance with me?”

Chris couldn’t resist the please. He took Vin’s outstretched hand and followed him onto relatively empty dance floor. To Buck, it seemed the floor had cleared out just for them, that there was a greater magic at work telling people that something extraordinary was happening, and that they should all sit back and watch. Five faces at the round booth all beamed happily watching Chris and Vin hold each other close, swaying back and forth in rhythm.

Desperado, oh, you ain’t getting’ no youger
Your pain and your hunger, they’re drivin’ you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that’s just some people talkin’
Your prison is walking through this world all alone

Dancing cheek to cheek was not something Vin would have ever expected to be doing with Chris, in public, in front of God and everyone. Wished maybe, dreamed, but not expected. He just closed his eyes and let go. Vin kept one hand in Chris’, pulled tight to his chest, the other resting at the small of Chris’ back. Chris wrapped his free arm nearly all the way around Vin’s shoulder and back, not gripping, just keeping. Making a declaration with his body that he belonged to this man, heart and soul, and vice versa, and he just might kill anyone who got too close.

Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin’, but there’s a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it’s too late.

Thank God it wasn’t too late. They never made a repeat performance of the dance they did that night; avoiding overt shows of affection was wise. Dancing was reserved for Larabee’s living room and den. And kitchen. And back yard. And the bedroom. Barefoot and slow, occasionally fast and silly.

After all, as Ezra described it, dancing is simply the vertical expression of a horizontal desire.

Yep. That about covered it.

The bar crowd began to disperse, everyone at the booth began to get sleepy, and it was time to go home. As Chris and Vin walked hand and hand out to the truck, Vin knew without a doubt that he had come home. Why it had taken him this long to see it seemed beside the point. But not that long, in retrospect, and they had sure done their best to make up for lost time. They talked about having to do this again next New Nears, go to the Blue Flamingo, dance into the wee hours, and Vin found he was looking forward to the Holidays – looking forward to life – for the first time in a long time.

For the first time. Period.

Epilogue

Home for Vin became the ranch. It had always been home in all the ways that mattered, but in the months that followed, gradually all his belongings ended up there and he simply accepted the fact that there was nowhere else he would rather be.

They had their share of fights, their share of tears, and more than their share of accidents, on and off the job. Chris’ hair got a little grayer, his knees a little worse, and his temperament more irascible, but Vin was always there to tease him into laughter, irritate him into submission, and love him with every ounce of strength he had. And then some.

They spent every single Christmas together until Chris’ death on Christmas Eve nearly twenty years later.

In the end, it wasn’t the bullet they all feared would take one of them, but an enemy far more ruthless and cunning that left Chris took weak to stand, but not too weak to hold Vin’s hand even as he died.

The entire team was there, gathered for one final reunion. Buck and JD still joking, Josiah still being fatherly, Nathan motherly, Ezra still trying to remain unruffled. They unwrapped their packages in his hospital room, even brought him a baby tree complete with naked angel ornaments, courtesy of Buck, and Vin sat at his side, feeding him hot cocoa from a straw. Josiah read the Christmas story as told in the Gospel of Luke. JD recited the Night Before Christmas, needing help more than once when his voice broke and he had to hide his tears. But in the end, it was Ezra who cried the hardest.

Chris told them that cancer could take his liver and his lymph nodes, but it couldn’t take his heart. It already belonged entirely to those six men in that room. He apologized if it belonged mostly to Vin, but they smiled. That hardly needed to be said.

His last stern glare was aimed at Buck, his last piece of advice to JD, and his last words were to Vin. No one else heard them. Except Sarah.

And God knows she was happy to see him again. When he finally came home.

That was a Merry Christmas.

The End

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