Act One: Christmas Eve

Chris dumped his overnight bag (overnight? Hah! Week or two bag would be a better description) on to his partner's couch with a huge sigh of relief. Thank God for small mercies. Their latest mission completed with - he glanced at his watch - at least ten hours to go until Christmas Day. For a while there he really thought they weren't going to make it and that he and Sam would spend their first Christmas together as a couple... well, as a couple but as a couple of CI5 agents buried deep undercover in an arms dealing ring rather than as a couple of lovers unwrapping each other come Christmas morning. In fact, they'd spent most of the case apart, which hadn't done much to reassure him that this Christmas would be a success on the togetherness front. But finally they'd had the breakthrough they'd been waiting for and brought the bad guys' house of cards tumbling around their ears and been reunited for the long flight back. Just in time for Christmas.

Although Christmas Eve had always been a bigger deal for him growing up than Christmas Day he'd noticed that the Brits appeared to do things differently, leaving the whole unwrapping of presents thing until Christmas morning. And when in Rome, or more precisely London, do as the natives do. He'd really tried to get into the whole British spirit of Christmas, even going so far as to suggest to Sam on the flight back that they do that most British of festive things and go and see a pantomime. Sam's reply to that hadn't been printable. Sam, to Chris' mind, just wasn't getting into the spirit of things. The man hadn't even bought a tree.

"Come on." The subject of his musings interrupted his chain of thought, rather peremptorily handing him back his coat that he'd only just taken off and, in a nod to Sam's penchant for neatness, hung up on the hook provided for such purposes.

"I've only just sat down."

"I know," explained Sam impatiently. "But now you've got to get back up again. We've got to go out."

"Where?"

His lover gave an exasperated sigh. "If you want to eat tomorrow I would suggest Tesco's which shuts..." He glanced at his own watch. "In a little under two hours and won't open again until Wednesday at the earliest. We'd better get a move on. And don't bother pouting because I am not braving the supermarket on my own on Christmas Eve."

Yep, Sam was definitely in a foul mood, hardly full of goodwill to all men. He wondered how much that had to do with the case they'd been on, the long flight back or the thought of shopping on Christmas Eve and how much had to do with the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Day and to Chris' knowledge Sam hadn't spoken to his family since informing them about his relationship with Chris. Not that he'd even known that Sam had even done that until recently.

He sighed heavily, making sure Sam heard him even though he knew it would do no good. No point in giving in gracefully. If he did that, Sam might decide that having Chris accompany him on trips for essentials like food should become a habit.

Sam looked even more impatient. "Today would be nice," he grated.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Chris groused in reply. Wonder of wonders, that actually got a hint of a smile.

"Not yet. At least not that I've noticed."

He perked up. Maybe if he was well behaved around the shop he could persuade Sam that he deserved a reward. He could hope, couldn't he?

*****

He watched the seething mass of humanity swirling around the large supermarket entrance with something close to despair. They'd made extra good time getting here, thanks to his partner's disregard for both speed limits and pedestrian safety, but even so, this... this was just unbelievable.

"The shopping isn't going to do itself, Chris."

Chris didn't respond to either the question or the still irritable tone it was delivered in. Instead he gestured helplessly at the crowds, words failing him.

"I know. But it's not going to get any better. And we'd better get going since it could take us an hour to get through the checkouts. It did the last time I left it this late."

"An hour?" He glanced at the crowd even more aghast.

"Yep." There was a morbid note of humour now in his partner's voice as he too surveyed the masses moving in and out of the door.

Chris sighed melodramatically. "Let's get to it then." He straightened his shoulders as though he was headed off to face his doom and Sam's face broke out into a smile. "Shall we?"

They wove their way through the multitudes, barely managing to avoid being overrun by old ladies with shopping trolleys.

"You know what these remind me of?" asked Sam suddenly. "Lemmings, all rushing over the cliff of consumerism."

Chris blinked, a little taken aback by the humour in his partner's voice. For some reason Sam's mood appeared to have improved and he couldn't quite figure out why, unless it was something to do with being reunited. It was a silly thought, really, and silly that it made him feel so warm inside but he let himself play along.

"They don't really do that, you know?"

"Hmm?" Sam pounced on an abandoned shopping trolley just ahead of a hassled looking businesswoman and smiled sweetly as she glowered at him before resuming her search.

"Lemmings. They don't run over cliffs. I'm sure I read somewhere that that was an urban myth, perpetuated by Disney."

Sam was only half listening to him, he could tell, but he answered anyway. "What does Disney have to do with it?"

"Well, in the early sixties Disney made pseudo nature documentaries, getting all their facts wrong. And in one of them they filmed lemmings rushing over a cliff."

"And?" Sam had pulled a shopping list out of his pocket and was reading through it.

"Well, apparently lemmings don't really do that so the only reason they ran over the cliff in the film was because the film crew was chasing them."

That finally got his partner's attention, Sam staring at him, open-mouthed, and then he frowned.

"Are you pulling my leg?"

Chris shrugged. "Well, I'm not saying it's true. It could be another urban myth. All I know is that my sister was quite upset about it all when we were kids. She wanted us all to boycott Disney movies and for Dad to donate loads of money to a lemming sanctuary or something."

Sam laughed. "They actually have those?"

"If they didn't she probably would have started one. She was into save the whale and everything back then."

Sam started to laugh. "A home for wayward lemmings?"

He beamed, pleased that the story appeared to have cheered his partner up. "Something like that."

Sam shook his head, a smile still gracing his face. "And I wondered where you got it from," he muttered darkly, although his heart obviously wasn't in it. He glanced down at his list again and then looked up at the crowds with another sigh.

"Feel like jumping over a cliff?"

"With you?" he grinned. "Any time."

Sam rolled his eyes at the sappily phrased sentiment, but Chris could tell that his partner was pleased anyway. He'd realised during their brief week away that Sam needed to hear that he was important to Chris and on a regular basis.

Sam. Insecure. It was still a concept he was struggling with.

They ventured through the door and the noise and bustle hit Chris almost like a physical blow. To one side were the tills, whirring and humming as though they had a life of their own, staff tearing between them on roller-skates of all things. To the other side a group of school children were singing carols, all of them wearing jaunty Santa hats adorned with tinsel while some of their number were circulating and shaking collection tins hopefully at shoppers. Ahead of them gaped the portal into another world, huge racks of shelving rearing above them like some primitive temple to Mammon.

It was just like Wal-Mart.

He was home.

He peered over his lover's shoulder at the list clutched in Sam's hand while his lover flicked desperate eyes left and right, taking in the toys, videos, CDs and computers to one side and the racks of Christmas clothing to the other. Chris had the beginnings of an idea.

"Do you want to split the list?" he asked, pitching his voice so that it could be heard above the throng. Sam gave him a long, slow look that spoke volumes and he grinned. "I promise I'll get everything that's on it, Sam, but it would be quicker that way. Take half the shop each?"

Sam's look was still doubtful and Chris' grin widened. "You don't need me to hold your hand going around, do you?"

"Are you kidding? Have you seen those old women who gather around the cheese counter? They scare me."

"And you a big, tough CI5 agent."

"Hey, I know my limitations."

"So..." Chris wheedled. "How about it? Because, frankly, the sooner we get out of here the better."

Sam sighed and, with a sudden decisive move, tore the list in half. "Everything on the list, Chris. Okay?"

Having won this battle he could afford to be magnanimous. "Sure. Where shall we meet?"

Sam glanced around, his eyes settling on a sign for a café. "There. After we've finished. Good luck, and you'll need a trolley."

He gave Chris a slightly smug smile, clutching his own tightly as Chris glanced around at the throngs again, his heart sinking.

"See you in hell," Sam said, still with a smug smile, before heading off to do battle with the masses.

"Yeah," muttered Chris. "Sure you will." Probably literally, knowing Chris' luck.

*****

Actually, once he got beyond the door, it wasn't too bad. It was even fun, in a sick and twisted kind of a way. And while he had to get everything on Sam's list that didn't mean he was limited to the list. As far as he was concerned there was a notable lack of sugar based products on Sam's list and he intended to remedy that, although his partner had unbent enough in the holiday season to actually include 'Christmas Cake' among the required items, which was a wonder in itself. Oh, and mince pies he noticed. He presumed that was sweet mince rather than savoury. Well, that's what he was getting anyway.

He hovered over the cakes for a while, frowning while he tried to differentiate between Dundee Cake, fruitcake, cakes with white icing, cakes without. He finally settled on something called a 'Yuletide Log', mainly it had to be said because of the plentiful chocolate icing. The plastic robin and holly wreath sitting on top of it seemed quite festive too.

He spent a pleasant few minutes ambling along the special Christmas aisles, throwing the odd tube of wrapping paper into the trolley and picking up odd small gifts for Sam, silly things that caught his eye, for the pure joy of buying them. And then he hit the toy aisles and was in seventh heaven. Only his awareness of the rapidly passing minutes managed to drag him away.

Strangely enough it actually grew quieter from then, probably because few people had left it to the last minute as he and Sam had been forced to do. It did mean, however, that contrary to his partner's dire predictions he wasn't in the queue for an hour, and there was an attractive young woman, still on roller-blades, who helped him pack his shopping, smiling sweetly at his largest purchase. He'd still been beaten by Sam, who he spotted heading into the café while he was still in the queue, probably because the Englishman had limited himself to the list and only the list. He supposed being impulsive had its drawbacks. Mind you, he thought as he hefted his largest gift for Sam, being impulsive did have its benefits. He couldn't wait until Sam set eyes on this. Actually, he didn't want Sam to see this until tomorrow, which left him with a bit of a dilemma.

A dilemma that was easily solved. All he had to do was find his wrapping paper and the nifty little sellotape thingy he'd purchased, something that sat on your wrist and dispensed little strips of sellotape one at a time and he could never resist neat little things like that. He begged a pair of scissors from one of the till girls, turning on both the charm and dimples so that she didn't stand a chance and voila - one not terribly neatly wrapped present. While he was on the subject - voila. Several not terribly neatly wrapped presents.

He was feeling quite smug with himself when he finally made it into the café, even though there wasn't really enough time for him to have a well-deserved cup of coffee.

Sam had obviously had the same idea as he'd had, since sat on the seat next to his partner were several much more neatly wrapped presents, all shoved into a carrier bag. His partner, however, had done it in comfort, and seemed to be deep into his second cup of something hot if the empty cup sitting on the table was any indication.

"Didn't you get me one?" Chris pouted.

"I did," replied Sam urbanely. "It was going cold so I'm drinking it." He eyed the full trolley Chris was wheeling with some trepidation. "Get everything?"

"Yep."

Sam made a little 'hmm' sound in the back of his throat. "And then some by the looks of it." His curious gaze settled on the wrapped presents sitting atop Chris' pile but he didn't comment. "Let's get going then."