12 Days of Christmas

Fandom: RPF

Category/Rated: Slash/PG13

Year/Length: 2011/1348 words

Pairing: Chris and Steve

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.

Author's Notes: For buttercup22

Christian takes his guitar, steps up to the mike and looks around at his audience. He's used to this, loves being onstage. He gets off on the control he has over his audience, adores the way the girls lose their cool and yearn for him.

Tonight, though, he's got something different for them. It's going to change things, but somehow he thinks they'll be better.

"Merry Christmas, guys," he says. "Before I sing this next one, I've got a little story for you, so hush y'all and listen."

He's always focused on stage, eyes keen as he takes in the reactions and recharges his batteries with the energy that's out there, soaking up the love. He strikes a chord, and then drops his hands.

"On the first day of Christmas, Steve Carlson gave to me the kind of bitch-face he usually reserves for sound systems that are out of balance."

There are giggles from the Kaniacs, and the room hushes in anticipation.

"Come on, son. What did I do? Weren't me that ran over your puppy."

"It's not always about you, Kane." Steve put his headphones on as he listened intently to his mixing desk indicating that the audience was over. Chris ground his teeth.

"Sure it is. Didn't see no hissy fit directed at Jonah or Jensen. Just me."

"Jonah and Jensen are both gonna be around for Christmas. You're not." And there it was. Chris had announced his intention of heading out to Norman, and Steve was pouting.

"Didn't see no gilt-edged invitation to spend it with you either," growled Chris.

It was amazing how quickly the sun came out from behind the clouds. Steve had a smile on his face, and that made Chris feel good.

"On the second day of Christmas, Steve Carlson gave to me a gilt-edged invitation to spend Christmas in LA with him at his mom's place."

"I'll cook," murmured Steve. "And I want you to make those potato things with the jalapenos. Man, those are good."

"You just want me for my recipes then? I knew it!" Chris was already mentally riffling through his inner recipe book, thinking of sides that would spice up a festive meal.

"Yeah. That and Maalox will see me through Christmas." Steve's grin was knowing. "So, are we good?"

"Course we're good. Get your guitar. I wanna jam."

"On the third day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a lecture about drinking too much." He bent to accept the shot that one of his fans was holding up for him. "Thank you, darlin'. Christian Kane don't function on water; he needs fuel."

There's a smattering of applause at that, and someone else holds out a glass. Yep. He loves being on stage.

I'm just saying, we should maybe cut down a little. Don't wanna see pink elephants while we're cooking dinner. That would suck."

"I got a recipe for pink elephant a la Norman. Need a ton of chipotle sauce and you marinate it in Jack Daniels."

"Guess we're part way there then. We've got the marinade. All we need is the elephant."

"On the fourth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a grocery list and instructions to haul it all home."

"Jesus Christ, we preparing for feeding the five thousand? We're never gonna eat all this stuff."

Steve smirked. "You'd be surprised. Go, oh, mighty hunter. Bring home the sustenance for this potlatch. I'm working on stuff for my Stageit performance."

Christian laughed. "Guess that makes you my squaw."

"Fuck off, Kane; I'm busy."

"Yes, mother."

"On the fifth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a remixed version of ‘Blaze' that he'd been working on."

"So you weren't just blowing smoke then? You actually were working on shit."

"I actually was. Be amazed at the amazing clarity of your song."

"Why can't I actually hear any difference?" Christian smiled to indicate that he was joking.

"Guess it's ‘cause you're tone deaf, Kane. Nothing I can do about that."

"On the sixth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a T-shirt with ‘kiss the cook' written on it."

"I'm the cook now, and not just the sous-chef?"

"One of the cooks; don't let it go to your head, man." Steve's smiles have been getting broader all though the past week.

"So you gonna kiss me then?" Christian waited for Steve to back off. It didn't happen.

"Thought you'd never ask," murmured Steve, even huskier than usual. He twined his fingers into Chris's hair and went for it. No further food prep took place for a good long time after that.

"On the seventh day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me the menu for the Christmas dinner he was planning."

"We need to open a restaurant." Christian pursed his lips as he perused the list of dishes that his other half had drawn up. "This kind of stuff would bring in the punters."

"Seriously, I think we should look into it." Steve nodded, his face serious. "Someday you're gonna lose your looks, and it would be great to fall back on."

"Well, son, at least I got looks," retorted Chris, jabbing an elbow into Steve's ribs.

"Fortunately, I have talent," smirked Steve.

"Yeah, son, you do." Chris's eyes were soft as he reached to pull Steve against him.

"On the eighth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me the guest list for Christmas dinner."

"So with your mom and dad, Jensen and Danni, Jason and his wife, Riley and his girlfriend, Jonah and his, and David Olivas – he bringing anyone?" At Steve's nod, Chris continued listing the guests who would be there for dinner. "Yeah, okay. Then there's you an' me, and that makes fourteen. I'll tell you now, son, I don't take kindly to washing dishes."

"Awww... You don't wanna get dishpan hands."

"Too right."

"On the ninth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a turkey, a fucking enormous turkey with instructions to stuff it."

"Excuse me?" Christian was frowning.

"I said take this and stuff it." Steve was finding it hard to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, okay. Bend over, and I'll get right on that."

"On the tenth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a bunch of grief about the quality of produce at his disposal"

"Calm down, son. It's all gonna be amazing. We're busting our butts, and you're just freaking out because you're trying too hard. C'm'ere." Reaching for Steve, Chris reeled him in for a long, slow kiss.

"You've been eating the onions, haven't you?" Steve recoiled, but not for at least five minutes.

"Yeah. Think of it as anesthetic for you, Steva!" Christian grinned hugely.

"Jeez! Go brush your teeth." Steve snapped the dish towel at him.

"Never fuckin' happy..." Chris went off, grinning. Mission accomplished.

"On the eleventh day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me an offer I just couldn't refuse."

"I ain't wearin' footie pajamas!" Chris looked at the garment Chris was holding out to him and shuddered.

"Dude, we all wear them. It's my mom's tradition. After we eat dinner we all get round the tree in our PJs and sing songs, drink Jack and rock out. It's fun." Steve made huge puppy eyes at him, and Chris felt himself waver.

"What's in it for me if I destroy my street cred in this fashion?" Chris knew he'd give in but there was no harm in seeing if there would be perks.

"How about a really awesome blowjob?"

"Now you're talking!" Chris snatched the offending garment and stumped off to get changed. You couldn't beat a blowjob.

"On the twelfth day of Christmas Steve Carlson gave to me a song, and a kiss, and this ring..."

The screams and applause went on for a very long time, and when Steve finally came out onto the stage to join him in a song, it was touch and go as to whether the roof would be blown clean off the building.

"Happy New Year, guys. Hope it's as good as mine is gonna be."

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