Title: "Call Off Christmas!"

Author: Caro Dee

Fandom: Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves

Pairing: Robin Hood/Sheriff of Nottingham

Rating: PG-13

Status: Complete

Archive: WWOMB

Feedback: Lovely. Yes.

E-mail address for feedback: carodee@popullus.net

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I am making no profit on this.

Notes: This story was written for the Slash Advent Calendar 2003 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003

I'd like to thank Corgi and Bluewolf for their beta efforts. Any errors are my own.

Summary: The Sheriff insists on an exchange of gifts.


Call Off Christmas!
by Caro Dee

On his way to pick up the gift he'd commissioned for King John, the Sheriff of Nottingham was feeling quite pleased with himself. It was his own idea, and he was quite proud of it - a fine silver salt cellar that depicted the king standing triumphant over a fallen stag. Flattering, yet tasteful and conspicuously expensive. He'd described it to the silversmith, who assured him that he had seen the king several times and would be able to craft a certain likeness.

Despite the freezing temperatures, it was nonetheless a beautiful winter day, with fresh snowfall transforming the King's Preserve into a landscape carved out of ice. The road before them stretched white and untouched and, aside from the hoof beats and jangling harnesses of the horses and the quiet mutters of his men, the forest was delightfully silent.

The relative silence and lack of footprints in the snow boded well for their journey. In all likelihood, Robin Hood was sheltering from the cold, huddling miserably over a tiny fire and cursing winter. thought improved his already cheerful mood. A shivering, wretched Hood was not likely to be out and about and causing him endless troubles.

No sooner had the thought passed through his mind, when a figure detached itself from a tree and stepped out into the road. The Sheriff cursed his bad luck. Why today of all days? He thought regretfully of the large purse of gold that was to go to the silversmith. "Damn it all to hell! That's it! Call off Christmas!" He swiveled to face his secretary, riding behind him. "Make a note of that. I'm canceling Christmas!"

"A fine day to you, Sheriff," called out Robin Hood, his bow carefully aimed at the Sheriff's heart. "Stand and deliver. I'm sure you know the routine. Don't force my men to stain this snow with your blood."

Carefully curbing his frustrated rage, the Sheriff nodded to his captain to stand down. The men subsided, hands on sword hilts, and glared furiously at the silent figures surrounding them.

"Well, I must say that I am surprised," said the Sheriff, reluctantly untying the pouch at his waist and handing it down to... was it Will Scarlet? These ruffians all looked alike with their gaunt faces and tattered clothes. "Surely this is a terribly unchristian action - to waylay a man two days before Christmas as he's on the way to pick up a gift for the King."

Robin Hood smiled grimly at the man on horseback. "Think of it as a gift to the people who need it far more than a false king."

The Sheriff grinned back mirthlessly, through clenched teeth. His rising anger led him to give into a dangerous and ill-thought impulse. "Ah, but surely that calls for an exchange of gifts. What will you give me?"

To his delight, Robin Hood looked taken aback. 'Ah, just wait, my boy. You won't know what hit you.' The Sheriff threw up his hand dramatically and said, "No, no. Don't worry about what to get me. I know *exactly* what I want!"

With flamboyant skill, he lifted and swung his left leg over his horse's head, sliding off and muffling the grunt at his own weight as he landed. Arrogantly sweeping his fine fur cloak back, he stalked over to where the highwayman stood. Gasps and murmurs filtered through the air from the guardsmen and thieves alike. Ignoring the possibility of bloodshed, his entire focus was on Hood, who stared back just as intently, if uncertainly.

Without a pause, the Sheriff swept to one side of the bow aimed at him and swooped in to place a hard kiss on the lips of the most annoying man in the world. As Hood stiffened but failed to move away, the Sheriff heard a moment of silence and then rising chuckles all around him. Then all his concentration narrowed to the warm lips beneath his.

The Sheriff was a man well-skilled in the arts of love and, to be honest, less than fussy about the sex of his partner. He was also fairly certain that Robin Hood was a humorless, unimaginative prick who had no idea what to do with his prick beyond rogering his lady love, the sweet Marion. So he was absolutely delighted when those lips parted and a shy tongue hesitantly touched his. He swept in and plundered that warm, sweet mouth with all the art at his command.

A few more moments and then Robin Hood pushed him away. Looking into those lost, confused eyes, the Sheriff felt gleeful triumph. And then, because the kiss had been sweet and the throbbing of his erection felt wonderful and he had unexpectedly conquered his enemy and it *was* Christmas after all, the Sheriff chose to be almost kind.

He leered and whispered. "And how is the lovely maid, Marion? She must be such a comfort to you. Oh wait, sorry. She *is* still a maid, isn't she? My condolences."

The lost look instantly changed to rage. With a wink and a flourish of his cloak, the Sheriff turned and swaggered back to his horse, holding his breath as he waited for the arrow in his back at any moment. But he arrived at his horse and mounted it still alive.

Gathering the reins in one hand, the Sheriff flourished the other hand imperiously and shouted, "Christmas is back on!" Then, as his men hooted and cheered, he gave the signal and they galloped forward, scattering the thieves who leapt out of the way.

'Well,' thought the Sheriff of Nottingham with complacent self-satisfaction, 'this has been an unexpected treat.' As he daydreamed of the taunts he'd use the next time he ran into Robin Hood, he ground his erection into the rhythmic movements of his horse and savored the heavy feel of the vest, hidden beneath his clothing, with the many little pockets sewn into it and a gold piece hidden in each one. The king would still receive his gift this year.



end