by Angel
Inside, Vic added the last of the tinsel to his tree and looked around at the
festively bedecked room with a lonely sigh. Alice was supposed to be here to
help him celebrate Christmas this year. However, just days before she was to
board the plane in Johannesburg, there'd been a call for volunteers to help out
in a nearby drought-stricken nation, and this had prompted the altruistic young
woman to stay and help.
Of his Toronto family, Li Ann didn't celebrate Christmas, so she was basking on
some tropical beach. Jackie was with mobsters and relations in New York City,
and the Cleaners were on safari. Nathan was not an option, and the Director was
just plain... well, Vic would rather spend Christmas with Jackie and
Nathan. Who even knew what Mac was doing? He was probably skiing in Aspen with
the flavor of the week or something.
Another Christmas alone. Vic was getting too old for this; the thrill of
independence was long gone. He found himself wanting someone to cuddle up with
at night, brave the malls for and take care of. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently so.
Flipping off the CD player with its cheery selection of holiday tunes, the
ex-cop poured himself a glass of eggnog liberally spiked with rum. Turning on
the TV and hitting the mute, he sat there watching "It's a Wonderful Life" and
trying hard not to feel so alone. Vic didn't make it to the bell ringing or the
angel getting his wings before he fell asleep, visions of a certain male partner
of his dancing naked through his head.
Mac placed the last silver ball just so on his designer tree with a satisfied
grin. He had the tree of his dreams, the perfect bachelor pad, his kitchen
smelling of spicy Szechwan, his favorite CD playing softly in the background.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
So why was he miserable?
Because there was no one to share it with. More importantly, the one person he
really did want to share it with was half a city away.
Taking the take out bag off the counter, he shoved it into the fridge and
grabbed his coat and a festively wrapped present before flicking off the lights
and heading forth once more. A last minute thought
had him turning off the tree lights and grabbing his lock picks. This year Mac
Ramsey was gonna get exactly what he wanted for Christmas. This year he'd accept
no substitutes!
Vic wasn't sure what woke him up first, the slight scratching on his door or the
feeling that he wasn't alone. Long years and recent experiences had him off the
couch in a crouch, gun in hand before he registered who it was. "Jesus Christ,
Mac!" he bellowed as he refastened the safety and replaced the gun on the coffee
table. "You wanna die for Christmas or what?"
"Or what comes to mind," Mac laughed as he tossed his cashmere coat onto a chair
and made himself comfortable on the couch. "It's a Wonderful Life?" he snorted
as he watched the credits roll. "Jeez, Vic, that's just... sweeet," he droned
out with saccharine sarcasm.
Christ, he looks good, Mac thought silently as he observed his well-honed and
lethal partner. What I wouldn't give to have that playing cat and mouse with
me. Mmm, I could handle getting pounced. And if I have my way one of us is
getting pounced under yon Christmas tree tonight!
"You're such a fuck up, Mac," Vic sighed as he walked into the kitchen and
pulled out a bottle of Mac's Chinese beer. Okay, when the hell had he started
keeping Mac's favorite beer in his fridge alongside his own? Shaking his head,
he returned to the living room and passed it to the other man. "And I fell
asleep, okay; it's what came on when I was out."
"Suure, Vic, whatever you say," Mac teased. "So where's Allegra, thought you
were doing the kitschy family thing?"
"Alice is in some god-forsaken part of Africa helping with famine relief. She
managed to find the time to call me before her flight left," Vic groused.
"Sorry. I was just looking forward to spending Christmas with somebody, you
know? What am I talking about, I'm surprised you don't have a Bambi or a Bunny
or a Tiffy on your arm. What are you doing here, Ramsey? This a pity call?"
Vic eyed the other man suspiciously.
"Nahh. No Bambis or Bunnys or Tiffys for me," Mac replied as he took a long
swallow of his beer. "It's grown old, you know? The flavor of the month thing.
It's kinda—well, hollow," Mac admitted quietly as he looked around. "I like
what you've done. My place looks... cold. Elegant but cold. This looks like
Christmas to me, you know?"
Relaxing into the couch, he smiled up at his partner. "Besides. I didn't want to
be alone for Christmas; you don't mind, do you?"
"Nahh, kinda like having you here, Mac," Vic replied with a smile of his own as
he settled down on the couch next to his partner in companionable silence.
The total lack of sound woke him. It was as if the world had gone silent. The
arms around him were a surprise. They were masculine—long and lean and well
honed. The soft soughing of breath had him turning his head to see his partner,
Mac, wrapped around him, more relaxed and innocent in sleep then he could ever
be awake. And it felt good, and right, to have Mac here next to him.
Looking at the VCR clock Vic smiled. 12:01 am. Christmas day. Turning in the
younger agent's arms, Vic took a chance that Mac was still deeply asleep and
softly kissed his partner's lips. "Merry Christmas, Mac. I'm glad I got to spend
it with you."
Mac's eyes popped open, and his face lit up like the lights on the Christmas
tree. "You'd better have meant that, Mansfield, because I'm holding you to it,"
Mac husked as he pulled his partner in for a passionate and much more carnal
kiss.
"Guess I really was a good boy this year, despite the whole Al Dabra thing.
'Cause it looks like I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas. You."
"Mac? You mean you're not pissed, you don't mind?" Vic gaped in surprise.
"Shut up and kiss me again, Mansfield."
Santa hat on her head to complement her tight red dress, the Director shut off
the video feed to Victor's apartment. "Merry Christmas, boys," she smiled
happily. "This one's on me."
now coated the Toronto streets turning the normally modern city into a Rockwell
Christmas card, almost. It muffled the sounds of passing cars and leant a
softness to the angles and corners of the glass and steel metropolis.
