It took a while for them to unpack the shopping, bickering good-naturedly as they did so. It was good to be home, even if home appeared, for the present, to be Sam's place, mainly because Sam, at least, knew how to cook. Not that he minded being at Sam's - he liked it. Sam's place, although smaller than his, was actually quite homey, with a large couch, which by now had a lot of fond memories associated with it for Chris, and warm furnishings. It surprised a lot of people, he knew, who expected Sam's apartment to be as cold as his partner appeared to those who didn't know him well. It had surprised Chris too at first, if he was honest with himself. Just one of the facets of Sam that very few people got to see - and he was honoured to be numbered among the few.

Best of all for Chris was that the place was full of Sam-touches and the scent of Sam permeated everything. A good, clean scent he couldn't get his fill of. He only had to walk through the door to ease his troubled heart.

Home.

By now he pretty much knew where everything went, with Sam insisting that everything was put in its proper place, and went about stowing the shopping away with gusto.

"What is this?" Sam asked him suddenly, pulling out a rather garish box and waving it in his direction.

Chris blinked at him and smiled. "What does it say on the box?"

Sam gave him an old-fashioned look and didn't bother to answer. Chris did it for him, still smiling sweetly. "Fairy lights," he replied brightly.

"How very apt," murmured Sam, now staring at the box as though it was about to grow teeth and bite him. "I hate to disappoint you, Chris, but we don't have a tree to put them on. Unless..." He frowned and started to peer around at the still unemptied bags. "You didn't buy one of those too, did you?" he asked suspiciously.

Chris chuckled softly, rather enjoying his lover's consternation. "We improvise."

That earned him a raised eyebrow, Sam's look openly doubtful. "Oh ye of little faith," Chris chastised, casting his eyes around the room until they fell on one of Sam's plants; a small bonsai.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes," he beamed, snatching the offending box out of his partner's hands and stalking over to the small tree. "This will do nicely."

The eyebrow raised further, but Sam had obviously decided to humour the madman currently wearing his partner's face and didn't comment further as he watched Chris wrap the gaudy lights around his prized bonsai, humming happily to himself as he did so.

"There you go."

"Very Christmassy," said Sam dryly. "You didn't buy a star for the top, then?"

Chris eyed the bonsai doubtfully. "Does it have a top?"

"That was sarcasm, Chris."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"'Cause I could always go out and get a star. There's bound to be a shop open somewhere. Or we could make one out of tinfoil."

"Chris?"

"Yes?"

"Give it a rest."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

Chris treated his lover to a flash of his dimples and then, while Sam was still reeling, turned his attention back to the tree. "It's not very big," he said critically. "We're not going to be able to get many presents under it."

There was a telling hesitation behind him and he turned around just in time to catch the tail end of a frown crossing over his lover's face. "You didn't get many, did you?" Sam asked, obviously concerned that he was about to face a deluge of gifts and wouldn't have a similar number to give Chris back.

"I was kind of assuming that I'd get you, gift-wrapped," quipped Chris. "And you are definitely not going to fit underneath there."

Sam gave him one of those long-suffering looks his partner seemed to specialise in. "I thought," he said, still dryly, "that I'd be lucky to get out of bed tomorrow morning with my wrapping intact."

Chris beamed. "Well, that's okay then." He gave the tree another critical look, and then turned it slightly, so that the angle was to his satisfaction and they would get the full effect of the lights when they were cuddled up together on the couch. And there would be cuddling. He was counting on it.

Sam shook his head, his expression exasperated although Chris could see the laughter dancing in his lover's eyes, and then turned back to the arduous task of putting the rest of the shopping away. He didn't even comment on the chocolate Yule log, merely limiting himself to a heavy, hard done by sigh and shake of the head while Chris grinned at him unrepentantly.

When the shopping had finally been stowed to Sam's satisfaction, Chris sank onto the couch with a grateful sigh, kicking his shoes off and placing his aching feet onto the coffee table. He fully intended to remain there for the rest of the evening, deciding that it would take dynamite to shift him.

"I'm going to start on the food for tomorrow and then I think I'll have a bath," commented Sam quietly, handing him a cup of fragrant coffee.

Dynamite or a naked partner.

"Do you need your back washing?" he asked hopefully.

Sam's mouth twitched. "I thought you were going to leave unwrapping me until tomorrow?"

He pouted, to no effect. "Seems a pity to wait until then."

Sam smiled again and leant over to kiss him gently on the lips. "I'm flattered," he said. "But I'm also shattered. Maybe another time, okay?"

There had been a time, not so long before, that Chris would have been worried by the refusal, letting his insecurities rule him, but not now. He knew Sam loved him, and didn't need the reassurance, not now Sam had finally said the words, and so he smiled softly before kissing Sam back.

"'Kay. Need a hand with that cooking thing?"

Sam was already heading back into the kitchen. "No. I think have it covered."

Chris was prepared to admit that he could barely cope with cooking beyond the simple instructions that appeared on the back of ready made meals, i.e. shove under the grill, in the oven or in the microwave for however many minutes, but he was feeling a little guilty about leaving Sam to do it all. The guilt hauled him to his feet and dragged him into the kitchen.

"Sure you don't need a hand?" he asked, leaning against the worktop, still clutching his cup of coffee.

Sam glanced up at him and spared him a smile. "Well, this joint is proving a little troublesome, so why don't you execute a flanking action and cut it off at the oven before it has a chance to call in reinforcements."

"Ha ha."

"Seriously, Chris. I have it under control. If you're feeling guilty about it, don't be. You're doing the washing up."

Damn. "Okay."

He watched Sam for a few moments before asking, more for the sake of making conversation than any genuine interest, "We're having ham tomorrow?"

"Nope. We're having turkey." Sam gave him a wry look. "It's a bit of a tradition."

"So what's with the ham?" He reached out and stuck one finger in the honey pot that Sam had left open on the counter, ignoring Sam's irritated look with the ease of long practice. Strange really, to see Sam so domesticated.

"That's a tradition too, at least it was in my family."

He removed the finger from his mouth and tried not to look too eager at this glimpse into his partner's formative years. "Oh?"

"Yeah, Mum used to do one every Christmas so we had something other than turkey. She'd cook it a couple of days beforehand, and we'd make sandwiches or have it with veg..." Sam had finished scoring marks into the ham and began to smooth some of the honey over it. "And she'd always do extra veg on Christmas day, so we'd have cold roast potatoes to eat all day." He gave Chris a sweet, reminiscent smile. "That was the best part."

"We doing that?" Chris pulled up a stool, seating himself on it and leaning his head in his hand as he watched his partner. The domesticity of the scene made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, comfortable and secure.

"Of course." Sam spared him another smile before he began to shake out some cloves. He began talking again, and Chris wondered if he even realised he was doing it or whether some strange nostalgic Christmas bug had infected him without him realising. He didn't comment on it though, just relishing the emotional closeness between them.

"After Mum died, Nan used to do the same only she'd cook the joint at her house and bring it over to make sure that we didn't starve." Another smile. "Dad wasn't much of a cook. I had to learn in self-defence really." He was sticking cloves into the ham's skin now, at the intersections of the criss-cross marks he'd scored earlier. It was strangely hypnotic, watching him. "Wasn't the same though, not smelling it cooking." He paused for a moment, staring into space. "I missed her then."

"Yeah," Chris said softly, thinking about his own losses. "It's hard." And then a sudden thought struck him. "You're going to miss your family this Christmas too, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged, his attention apparently still fixed on cooking, but Chris knew him well enough by now not to be fooled. "Sam..."

The tone in his voice finally got Sam looking at him and Chris gave his lover a shaky smile. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." Sam's voice was low and intense, matched by an equally intense look in his green eyes. "I made my decision and I stick by it. I have you, that's enough."

He wanted to ask if Sam was sure, but the look in his partner's eyes stopped him. Instead, he reached out and captured one of Sam's hands in his own.

"Besides," Sam continued, his tone a little lighter although the look in his eyes remained almost fierce in his determination to convince Chris that he had no regrets, "you've gotta miss your family too."

"Yeah," he answered softly. "But it's different for me..." He meant with his family effectively gone rather than having turned their backs on him but Sam seemed to sense this and interrupted him before he could complete the thought.

"You still have your Mom. Aren't you going to be missing her?"

He gave Sam a sad little smile. "She barely knows who I am anymore, and on the rare occasions she sees me all that does is bring home what she's lost. It upsets her, and most of the time she's happy enough, lost in her own little world."

It appeared to be the day for sharing confidences, and he wondered if he'd been infected with the same nostalgia bug as Sam. It was the first time he'd explicitly mentioned his mother's frequent absences from what passed as the 'real' and 'sane' world, and he didn't want to put a damper on their first Christmas together. Instead of dwelling on it, he pulled Sam's hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss gently on the back of it and stroking Sam's long, strong fingers, sticky now with honey. "I have you and that's enough," he echoed, meaning every syllable. And then he smiled devilishly and, unable to resist, sucked one of the honey-covered fingers into his mouth, licking the sweetness from it with his tongue.

Sam's eyes dilated slightly and his lips parted as the shock of the action obviously coursed through his veins. Chris let his smile widen, his tongue slowly tracing up and down Sam's index finger. And then he drew it from his mouth entirely, letting it slide out with a quiet 'pop' before asking innocently. "Didn't you say you were going to have a bath?"

"Erm... yes."

What a kick. Managing to reduce his normally collected partner to quivering speechlessness with one simple action. He felt quite smug about it. He couldn't resist teasing a little.

"Going to put that in the oven before you do?" he asked, still innocently. Sam scowled slightly and then flushed.

"Smart arse."

"Hmm mm. Just hate to get it all heated up and then not... put it to good use."

He smirked and Sam gave him a reluctant smile before leaning over and kissing him again, sliding his tongue gently past Chris' lips to taste the honey and to scrape it lightly over Chris' teeth.

He pulled back to ask, "Anyone tell you you have a one track mind?"

Chris smiled. "You. Frequently. And my answer stays the same. It's difficult not to where you're concerned... Cuddle bunny."

*****

He let Sam take his bath in peace, having satisfactorily teased his lover mercilessly. Thinking back on it, he smirked again at the picture of his lover's exasperated face at the infamous 'cuddle bunny' reference. For all of Sam's bitching about it he was growing more and more convinced that Sam didn't really mind, enjoying the teasing in a strange kind of a way.

And thinking of Sam, his partner had gone suspiciously silent. He padded on silent feet over to the slightly ajar bathroom door and was greeted by a breathtaking sight.

Sam had fallen asleep, his head resting on the edge of the bath, his damp hair flopping into his face and his naked body lying supine, open to Chris' avid gaze. There was something both erotic and touching in the sight; Sam's long, dark eyelashes sweeping down over high boned cheeks, his lips slightly parted as the broad chest rose and fell with each drowsy breath.

He settled down on the floor by the bath, drinking in the sight. He didn't often get the opportunity to simply watch Sam sleeping; their lives were too hectic for that. And Sam never relaxed this completely when they were awake, not even in that state of post-coital bliss Chris had reduced him to more times now than could be counted. It was a rare privilege to see him like this and Chris was savouring the experience.

He didn't know how long he sat there watching his lover until Sam finally stirred, opening sleepy eyes to catch him looking. And then he was rewarded with a wonderful smile, sunny and still sleepy at the same time.

"Hey," said Sam, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "How long was I out?"

"Hey yourself," Chris replied softly. "Don't know, but when I realised you were asleep I couldn't leave you on your own."

Sam stretched, catlike, the move sending another sharp surge of longing through him. "Should have woken me," he murmured.

"No," he sighed. "I was enjoying watching you." He reached out and stroked a gentle finger along one of those cheekbones. "I always enjoy watching you..." The finger moved down Sam's face towards his mouth. "Especially when you're wet and naked."

He traced the smile that formed on Sam's face, unsurprised when Sam gently sucked the end of his finger in, nipping at it gently. The finger moved down Sam's throat and he cupped his whole hand loosely around Sam's neck, palm down, feeling the pulse beating underneath the skin. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his thumb sliding over the satiny skin, back and forth, back and forth. "Beautiful..."

His hand went on the prowl again, sliding down over Sam's torso, pausing to dip his fingers into the hollow of Sam's throat before mapping the line of his lover's breastbone. A detour to circle one flat nipple, flicking lightly at it with the tip of his index finger until it peaked at his touch. Sam's eyes never left his face, watching him while he petted and stroked him, the green eyes darkening with each caress, taking on a silvery sheen of arousal. His attention flicked back and forth between watching Sam and watching what his hand was doing to his lover, absorbing the sight and smell of Sam's desire.

His fingers drifted lower, across the muscles of Sam's taut abdomen, feeling them twitch beneath his touch. He took it slowly, and by the time he reached Sam's groin his lover was already hard, his shaft silk covered steel beneath Chris' fingertips. Sam finally broke their gaze, his seal-dark head dropping back against the side of bath with a sigh as Chris began to slowly stroke along his length.

There was a bottle of baby oil on the shelf next to the bath and he reached for it, slicking his hand to slide it along Sam's erection, listening to his lover moan as his fist slipped over his lover's heated flesh. His hand slid down between Sam's parted legs and into the cooling water, finding his lover's velvety sac and rolling his balls between careful fingers before stroking along the path of his lover's perineum to the puckered entrance Sam's body, flicking over it with one blunt fingernail before retracing his steps and pumping Sam's cock again.

He repeated the move several times, each time slowly and carefully, giving Sam plenty of time to savour the experience, all the time watching Sam's face, drinking in the pleasure blossoming there.

Sam's moans came more frequently now, interspersed with soft exclamations as Chris' fingers worked their magic, driving him closer and closer to the brink. Chris was relentless, utilising every trick he knew that his lover liked to bring him to the peak and keep him there, circling around the corona, sliding into the weeping slit and then abandoning Sam's cock completely to move down and circle and fondle Sam's balls before moving back again to slide one oil-coated finger into his lover's tight heat.

Sam's eyes were tightly closed now, his head tossing from side to side and his hands clutching the sides of the bath as Chris touched him. He was panting heavily, his lips parted and Chris brought his free hand up to stroke over Sam's mouth, feeling a surge of arousal as once again Sam sucked a finger in, the thrusting of his tongue against the tip an echo of the thrusting of his cock into Chris' slick and tight fist. His eyes opened again, dazed with passion, and met Chris', no comprehension in that gaze just sheer pleasure and need. And then he came, arching into Chris' hand with a harsh cry, spilling his warm seed over Chris' fingers.

Chris continued to pump him until the last of the shudders ran through Sam's body and then his lover sank back into the water, his body limp and exhausted. His eyes, when they opened and met Chris', were warm and Chris couldn't resist leaning in to give him a kiss, rinsing both his hand and Sam's belly with the by now cool water as he did so.

"Beautiful," he breathed against Sam's mouth. "My beautiful love."

"What about you?" Sam asked when he'd regained the power of speech.

"I'm fine." And he was. This had been for Sam and strangely enough although he was aroused, there was no burning need to make love right then and there. He could wait. He smiled and kissed Sam again.

"Come on," he said lightly. "Better go get ready for bed or Santa Claus won't come. Have you been naughty or nice?"

Sam smiled back and swiped at his stomach with the flannel, washing away the last remaining traces of his orgasm. "You tell me."

He kissed Sam again. "Both, baby. Definitely both."