"I can't think straight around you" just got a whole new meaning to me.

Growing up, in my teens, I had the usual doubts and fears about myself and my leanings. I found soon enough that I liked girls, and only girls, and was relieved. And I never doubted it.

Until tonight. Until Spencer's Christmas party. Until...

Spencer lives in a large apartment, with really understanding neighbours, and as such is a regular party host.

His Christmas party didn't differ from his usual parties. How can a tame computer expert know so many people I can never understand.

His cute blond neighbour was there again. I had something going on with her in Spence's last party, and she was still interested, but I...

But I'm rushing.

The party was going great. It was already in full blow when Chris and I arrived, straight from work. We got beers in hand, and were sucked in to the party mood.

Now, decorators - Backup, Rebecca and Spencer's girlfriend Wynne, I presume - had hung mistletoe on every door frame, and the place was filled with doors. So, naturally, as the party proceeded it became a kissing orgy.

I had kissed Backup at least twice, and the blond neighbour (Blaine? Belinda?), and so on, when I suddenly met Chris on the kitchen door, me going out, he in.

Others noticed it too, and demanded a kiss. The catcalls and encouragements ringing in our ears we laughed and leaned towards each other.

Now, there are two kinds of kisses. If you don't feel anything, it's just the act - lips against lips. If you do feel something, it's a ... kiss.

Needless to say I was surprised to notice this was the latter case. It really was a kiss.

Chris' lips against mine felt too good, and I found myself deepening the kiss, and he was kissing me back.

My other hand was convulsively gripping the beer bottle, but the other one found its way into his hair, and I could feel his hands in mine.

Then suddenly we both seemed to realise what we were doing, and pulled apart with the loud cheers and laughter in our ears. How had I not noticed the sound before?

We shared a brief glance. In books people always read other people's emotions from their eyes. I have never understood how that happens, nor have I ever met a living person who could do it.

So I have no idea what Chris felt. It was just a second anyway before we turned to face our audience, and in unison grinned, and gave a mocking bow.

Then he continued to the kitchen, got himself a beer from the fridge, and downed it fast. I moved to the other direction, a fraction too fast, and started to flirt with every female I encountered, finally settling on the blond neighbour.

I could only think of Chris though. I found myself still surreptitiously licking my lips, as if I could still taste him.

I caught his eyes a couple of times during the following hours, and we'd share a salute with our beer bottles, and go back to flirting with our companions. I had my blonde, and he had one of Backup's friends, pretty little redhead they called Scarlet.

Blaine gave me her phone number, and invited me over. Seeing Chris leave with his conquest was too much to me at the moment, and I walked the girl home (next door), made my excuses, and came home.

That was three hours ago. I'm still sitting here, hugging my knees on the sofa, staring out into the night and snowy streets, and trying to figure out what really happened.

It wasn't the drinks, it wasn't the air, it was Chris. My heterosexual working partner and best friend in my arms, and I couldn't get enough of kissing him. I wanted him. Wanted more than I could remember wanting anyone ever since I was a horny teenager.

Tomorrow afternoon (Malone's participation on the Christmas party was to allow a morning off for hangover, barring some international crisis) I have to face him at work, and I have no idea what it will be like.

Will he mention it? Did he notice that for me it wasn't just a joke? Will I be over... this, what ever this is, and...

Will I still instinctively want him?

I couldn't risk going near him all night after that. Couldn't trust myself not to... to do something stupid. Like manoeuvre us under some mistletoe, and repeat the whole thing.

All the time talking to Blaine I kept playing the one kiss over and over and over in my head. I could still feel his lips on mine, the gentle pressure, the soft breath... His hair under my fingers, his hands in my hair, sliding over the skin on my neck...

I can *still* feel all that. I can still imagine I can taste him on my tongue. And that taste is addictive. And I will never taste it again.

Frustrated on my own thoughts I say screw it to the building's policies and take a shower. It's not allowed after eleven PM, but hey, it's Christmas, maybe they won't evict me.

I turn the water very cold as if to punish my body of the way it feels, but give up soon, and turn the water temperature up.

I'm still thinking of Chris and that kiss. His eyes with the glowing laughter, and his well-formed body have a whole new meaning to me now, and as a final shock I realise I'm very aroused by the direction of my thoughts.

Finally I give up, and as I give my body the release it craves, I'm still thinking of my partner.

*****

I'm already at work when Chris strolls in, looking damn un-hangovery and rested. And good. How have I never noticed how gorgeous he looks in black? How well his black polo-shirts show off his physique that's a remnant of his "500 push-ups first thing in the morning" -SEALs days...

God, I never realised I could look a bloke like this. Like I'm undressing him with my eyes. Like I... Like I've watched girls for as long as I can remember. With desire to possess.

His cheery greeting is met by Backup's irate:

"What the Hell did you do to Scarlet?"

Chris' eyebrows shoot up.

"I behaved like a perfect gentleman. Put her in a cab and took her home, kissed her goodnight and went home to sleep. Why?"

Backup's face softens.

"Honestly?"

"On my honour."

Now she's openly amused.

"So she was pissed because nothing happened!"

Chris grins sheepishly and turns to take his coat off.

"Why *didn't* anything happen, Chris?"

Chris seems unwilling to go into details about his private life, but answers Spencer anyway.

"She's Backup's friend. I don't do fidelity. Might become complicated."

"Good point. How about you and Blaine, then, Sam?"

"I also took her home... okay, so that wasn't a long way, and went home to sleep."

"You don't look like you got much sleep," Backup does motherly rather than suspicious.

I'm spared from answering by Malone who demands we spend little less time imitating teenagers who gossip about last night's party, and a little more time in the world of international criminals and terrorists.

"Sir yes sir!" Chris mutters and grins to me.

And that's that about the party. No one mentions the kiss (well, it *was* a kissing orgy, as I mentioned earlier), and Chris is behaving completely normally around me.

Best mates and partners. Great. I can do that. I can forget his taste, and go back to chasing girls. I have Blaine's number for a start, and...

But I can't think straight when I'm around Chris.

*****

'So I was wrong when I thought the Christmas party was over and dealt with' goes through my head when I open the gift Backup handed to me on the 23rd of December, a little over week after the party, and a last work day before the brief Christmas holiday.

It's a photograph in a frame. But the frame is pink, made of plastic, and carved full of hearts. And the photograph is of me and Chris kissing.

I never even noticed someone took a picture. It's of quite good quality, too, for a drunken party shot. And it looks quite passionate.

Chris is holding a similar present in his hands, and we share a look, taking the only escape route. We laugh. Long, hard, loud.

I laugh to hide the embarrassment, and the longing, and the sudden gain of speed of my blood stream.

Chris... I don't know, he seems genuinely amused.

"Have to admit, we look good together," he grins to me.

I find my gaze lingering on his lips again (as I have done more often during this week than I would like to admit), and I have to look away.

I mask it by turning to place the photo on the desk - picture side down. I also pick up Backup's and Spencer's gifts, and hand them to them.

Chris' present is still at my place, seeing that we've agreed on spending the night together before we part ways to the duration of the Christmas holidays.

Chris is handing out his own gifts, and I'm spared from answering. Backup is changing the subject as well, asking Chris about Scarlet.

"She's great, she just isn't my type," he answers, and she frowns.

"I thought she was just your type!"

"So my type's changed," Chris grins, and I concentrate on the back wall.

My type has changed lately as well. Quite radically.

Spencer claims my attention by thanking me of the DVD I got him. He'd raved about his new DVD-player a while back, and I explain I just wanted him to have something to watch.

And I thought he might like the Italian Job, seeing that he has the theme song on his mobile. I was right, too. He's ecstatic.

Truth to tell, he's equally happy over Chris' gift, the Tomb Rider DVD. The man has no taste.

Backup's gift seems to be an equal success. For her I got a book of French poetry from the beginning of last Century, no, scratch that, the one before. Have to remember we're entering the new millennium for real this New Year.

Chris got her too a DVD, and she laughs over Charlie's Angels.

After that Spencer and Backup give us their *real* presents, the photographs having been just a joke. And what a joke. Like I need a reminder of that kiss to recall it in perfect detail...

We purchased a present to Malone as well, and left it on his desk, and bribed Richards to hack into the security system and clear that part from the security recordings.

Okay, 'bribed' is an exaggeration. He did it only to see Malone's face when he finds the gift, and tries to find out where's it from.

He'll know it's from us, though. We three are the only ones who dare to joke with him.

But... Silver Gucci handcuffs? I wouldn't even have known they make those... until Chris blushed and admitted he had a pair.

To the incredulous expressions around him he explained they were a birthday gift, and no, he'd never used them.

When I found out they cost 440 pounds a pair I became curious about who'd given him a birthday present of that magnitude...

It was quite a lot of money to put into a joke present, too, but we can afford it. Our pay doesn't really compensate risking your life in regular basis for the Queen and the country, but it's not minimum wage either.

So, Gucci handcuffs it was, and I *think* Malone may have just found his gift.

We try to surreptitiously peer through the blinds in his office, and appear *not* to do so. So we pretend we're concentrating on giving gifts still.

"Mr Spencer. Would you please find out how... this... got into my office?"

"Yes, sir. What is it, sir?" inquires Spencer innocently.

"Apparently a Christmas gift. A very expensive Christmas gift. I would like to thank whom ever gave it to me," his tone is dry, and he's too old professional to let out anything he's feeling.

Is he angry? Or pleased? I don't think we'll ever find out...

"Well, Spence, you can look over the security tapes. And Richards can see his reaction... I think me and Sam are off before some major disaster prevents us from leaving."

"Good thinking. I'll be doing the same," Backup says, "Merry Christmas, guys, behave, and see you in five days."

Greetings exchanged we leave the building, and finally the reality of the situation hits me.

I'm about to spend a free night with my best friend, and because of our busy schedule lately it's the first time since I realised I'm crazy about him.

How the hell am I going to survive this?

*****

Chris' only consent to the season is a set of fairy lights on one of his plants (that for the reason I've never quite figured out still stay alive regardless of his apparent lack of home making skills, and irregular working hours), and a small wreath of mistletoe on top of his TV.

"A gift from my neighbour," he explains, "won't risk hanging it to a door, though," he grins.

I have to grin back, but his words just trigger the million-times played memory in my mind again. To get my thoughts off it I offer him the present I'm holding.

"Or do you want me to place it under your Christmas... palm?"

He grins and tells me the actual biological classification of the plant in question. It's still Greek to me, I tell him, but put the gift there anyway. Next to a package that bears my name.

"Shall we eat first?"

"Sure. I brought the wine."

Instead of kitchen he heads to the CD-player though, and pushes play. Instrumental versions of traditional Christmas songs fill the air played by - even to my untrained ear - a masterful orchestra.

He notices my appreciation of the music, and grins wickedly:

"I have another Christmas CD, too. You'll hear that as well during this night. No Christmas is complete without Ricky Martin's 'Ay Ay Ay It's Christmas'."

"*What*?"

"I'll play it to you later."

"Sure you do... I need sustenance first. Feed me?"

"It's nothing too grand. I'm sure you'll have your traditional Christmas goodies with your folks later on."

"Yeah, I guess. As long as it's not take away."

"Nah, pasta, followed by chocolate pie. You said you'd bring red so I made the pasta sauce out of mad cows."

"*You* made it?"

"What, did you think I stay in this shape by living on pizza?"

Oh how I wish he hadn't reminded me of his physique! He's wearing a really tight black polo-shirt again, and it moulds deliciously over his...

I snap my mind and eyes hastily off the subject and into the food. It is delicious, too, and I tell him so.

"Thanks. Wine works with it, too."

I've always known Chris drinks wine when we go to a restaurant, with the food, but never otherwise. He never has any, because he claims he doesn't know anything about them. Still, he seems happy enough to down the red I brought, and I don't mind the twenty quid I spent on the bottle any more.

We discuss usual stuff as we eat. A bit about work, about our colleagues, about Malone and how he's taking not finding out his 'secret Santa'... About movies, books, music, world situation, and even the women we've been dating.

The usual stuff. We laugh, and joke, and have fun, and are close, but somehow, at least on my part, it's almost laboured. I don't feel completely at ease with him, haven't ever since I...

Ever since I started to lust after him.

I don't know if he notices my efforts. After the meal we grab the chocolate pie and move to the sofa. CD is on 'jingle bells' now.

He happens to glance the photo of his wife on the phone table, and I follow his gaze.

"You going to States to spend the holidays?" I ask, realising we haven't talked about that.

"No... There's nothing to go to there, except the graveyard. You? Going to spend it all with your folks?"

"Well, I'll go and visit them, at least. But the house will be full of my siblings, and their offspring, and I don't... I don't quite fit into that crowd, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"So what *are* you going to do?"

"I don't really know. Lounge about, catch up on the movies and books. Get roaringly drunk and maudlin, that sort of stuff."

"Sounds good. Need some company?" I throw half-jokingly, but realise I really would rather spend my time off with him than my distant family. Regardless of everything. Even if I die of dehydration due to excessive drooling.

"Really?" he asks, obviously pleasantly amazed.

"Got nothing more pressing in planning..."

"What about that Spence's blond neighbour?"

"Blaine? I... I never got around calling her. I'm sure she has her own plans, and I'm not included. I hope."

"Oh? What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing. Everything. She just... isn't my type."

"I thought she was just your type," he raises an eyebrow as he speaks, and I answer as he did to Backup earlier.

"So my type's changed."

I try a grin, and he looks at me suspiciously.

From that we deviate to other subjects again, but it seems to be decided that we spend the five days' leave more or less together, as we usually do on our holidays.

We start drowning brandy, and Chris plays me the Ricky Martin he threatened to. It's as horrible as the name suggests. But the CD includes such classics as WHAM!'s 'Last Christmas', so I brave it through.

At some point we remember the gifts, and decide to open them.

"You first," he says, and I eye him suspiciously. His expression is too innocent. I don't know what to expect. The DVDs he got for the others were perfect gifts, funny, but sort of impersonal. Warily I rip open the stylish package to reveal a sight that takes my breath away.

He smiles widely at my apparent approval of the gift he obviously spent lots of time and effort and money to get. I'm speechless. I'm holding a glass and metal statuette I fell in love with as we briefly saw it in a window of a small store in Venice during one mission half a year ago. I never got the change to go back to the store when the case was over, and I was sure it would have been to expensive anyway.

I watch the light playing on the golden mask of the goddess-figure in my hands and wonder again at my partner's memory. He remembered. He cared enough to...

Makes my own effort seem endlessly lame. Thank God Chris doesn't appear to think so.

After laughing to the first part of the gift - a book titled 'Idiot's Guide to Wines' - he holds up the thick picture book about history of aviation I came across as I was buying the poetry book to Backup.

"Wow..." he grins widely, and moves as if to hug me.

Suddenly embarrassed, I ask: "Tell me something, Chris."

"Yeah?" He seems a little scared... no, must be my imagining.

"Who the Hell bought you £440 handcuffs for a birthday present?"

He looks relieved, and laughs.

"Believe it or not, my own sister..."

"Your sister," I repeat.

"Yeah. Christina had more money than sense... I believe she thought it funny. She also gave me a photo book on bondage to go with it. I don't know whether she was twisted or thought I am..."

"Your sister," I repeat again.

"Yep. She was one of the best."

"And you've never used them?"

"Okay, I lied, I have, just once."

Sudden flare of jealousy makes me look away as I mutter noncommittal "oh?" hoping he won't go into details.

My hope fails, and his amused voice is soon explaining.

"I caught a burglar in our house once, and as I had no other way of restraining him while I phoned the cops..." he grins, "bet the guy felt appreciated."

"You used £440 silver handcuffs to a common burglar? A disgrace!"

"Yeah. Kinky enough for my taste. More brandy?"

"Sure, why not. If you're going to make me listen to any more of these crappy Christmassy pop-tunes, I'm going to need it..."

"You don't like Mariah Carey?"

"Not particularly no. At least not her so-called singing."

We banter a bit, and I try to regain my composure. I shouldn't drink more. It'll be a miracle if I let nothing out during this night. It's so crazy - I'm so comfortable around Chris, as usual, that I forget to keep my guard up. And at the same time I'm nervous, and feel very strongly the need to stay on guard.

And my only hope is that he'll get too drunk to notice...

While he's in the kitchen producing our refills I find myself reaching for the mistletoe wreath. I'm still playing with it when he returns.

I don't instantly realise he's back, so intent I am in staring at the little green leaves. A symbol of so much. Am I sorry for what it stands for? "I still dream of lips I never should have kissed" and all that...

I'm trying to decide if I'm sorry of the kiss when the object of my every fantasy for past days is standing next to me? Very smart.

But... If we hadn't kissed I'd never have known what it feels like... I'd never realised how beautiful he is, and... and I'd lived happily ever after believing I'm as straight as he.

Or would it have happened anyway? It would have, definitely. The feelings are too strong to be denied, and I can't believe I have not felt - or recognised - them before.

O damn, it's still true. I can't think straight around Chris.

I raise my eyes, and meet his worried glance.

"Sam, you okay? You seem a little... distracted."

"I..." suddenly I can't get the lie out. Dammit, I'm *not* fine. I really should just tell him that and get out.

Tell him everything and get out of his life. I can't go on like this for much longer.

I knew I shouldn't have drunk that much! But even as the thought goes through my head I know it's not really due to the amount of brandy I've consumed.

It's just Chris.

He notices my confusion, and the mistletoe I'm still playing nervously with. He rescues it from my hands, and as our fingers accidentally touch I remove mine abruptly.

He looks at me questioningly, but I refuse to comment. He sighs, and holds up the wreath.

"It's funny, really..." he begins thoughtfully, then stops.

"What is?"

"The power these damn leaves have..."

I swallow and look at him for explanations.

"Take Spencer's party for example. I'm sure half of the one-night stands that night were due to the kissing frenzy," he pauses for a second, then continues so quietly I almost think I'm imagining.

"And without them I wouldn't know what you taste like..."

It's his turn to fiddle nervously with the leaves, and as the sad and defeated tone of his voice gets through to my suddenly overloading brain it's my turn, then, to stop him.

His head jerks up, and I use the chance to press my lips against his.

I'm still shocked over my own actions when I realise he's kissing me back. And he tastes as good - if not better - as I remembered, and we're consuming each other as if starved.

We stumble back on the sofa, the mistletoe dropping forgotten on the ground.

When we come out for air we pull slightly apart as well.

"I... what's happening, Sam?"

"I don't know," I mutter, and kiss him again.

I said before, his taste is addictive, and I just need another dose. This time it takes longer for us to pull apart.

When we finally do I realise we've shifted so that I'm lying on the sofa, and he's half-lying on me, and I just love the weight of him on me.

His eyes question me.

"But I thought... No, I *know* you're straight..."

"Yeah, I knew it too. But ever since that kiss..." I grin, "I just can't think straight around you."

He laughs, happily and hungrily, and we resume the kissing thing. In between kisses he explains why he couldn't go further with Scarlet.

"Knew that I couldn't settle for anyone else after that... but also knew I could never get you..."

"I know... kissing Blaine felt like nothing after..."

"It was so much worse after I'd got a taste of what it could be like..." he mutters against my lips, and I pull slightly apart to stare at him questioningly. He blushes.

"I'm bi. I've always been. And I've wanted you for... ever," he whispers against my lips before diving into another kiss, which I return with alacrity.

As our hands start to do their own explorations, I suddenly sober up a bit. Chris may know what he's doing, but I don't. I tell him that.

I also ask him what he wants from me.

"I know you don't do fidelity. But I don't think we could work together after this if I'm only a ... an extra Christmas gift."

"O fuck, no. I haven't been good with the faithfulness thing because I haven't really cared about any of the women I've been dating... But this... You... We're friends and partners already. If we ever try to take it further, it can't be done lightly."

"*If*? I think we're well on the way of taking it further," I grin, and grind my groin suggestively against his, at the same time amazed at my own courage.

He blushes, and looks at me with fire in his eyes. (So some things I *can* read...)

"If we have sex it will have to be a beginning of a relationship, Sam. Nothing less would do."

"Good," I repeat huskily.

"But I hope you know where you're getting into, here..." I go on, "I've never... Ten days ago I'd never thought of you, or any other guy like... this. But now... All I know is... I'm crazy about you."

"Likewise," he murmurs into the kiss, and I think it's settled.

We're a couple.

*****

Wow.

I mean, wow.

That's really all I can say.

I never... I would never have expected...

I shift my position slightly to look at the head resting on my shoulder and its owner who's fast asleep.

If I thought him beautiful before it's nothing like how he looks sleeping in my arms, exhausted from our lovemaking.

Can't honestly call it just sex.

Never knew I could feel so much so... Man, he's good. He showed me things I'd never have imagined, and proved to me how good it can be.

His body is magnificent, and the things he can do... I just hope I gave him something in return.

I know I did. Even if I've never really done it with a man before, I know about pleasure...

What really surprised me the most was how natural it all felt. Now I finally know that what I've always pretended to believe is true. Genders really don't matter, sex is just sex.

Love is just love.

I love Chris. It's not just the sex that is amazing, it's the whole couple-thing. Of course, two days of it hardly makes me an expert, but cuddling on a sofa eating cold remains of a two days old take away pizza wouldn't feel that good if it was with anyone else.

We spent the whole yesterday in, in bed and out of it, and he taught me things about my body I never would have believed.

Happy and contented, I pull him even closer and drift to sleep as well.

*****

"Morning," I mutter, waking up to find Chris looking at me.

Our positions have changed, and I'm using his chest as a pillow. I wriggle until I'm facing him, and we exchange a short kiss.

"Morning," he replies, smiling.

"What?"

"I still can't believe it... That you're here, in my bed."

I smile back, not really knowing what to say, even though my own thoughts have been following much the same road.

"Merry Christmas," he then says, shutting his mouth abruptly as if to prevent himself from using an endearment after that. He's called me many things when we make love, but never to my face.

I don't know, maybe he's afraid of how I'd take it.

I return the greeting, but then realise its implications and turn gloomy.

"What is it?" he frowns, instantly worried.

"I'm supposed to go to my parents' for the Christmas day supper."

"Of course. You can... come back after that."

"I really don't want to leave you alone for the Christmas day."

"I'll be fine. You have a family to go to. Of course you have to go."

I look at his face searchingly.

"Why don't you come with me?" I ask almost diffidently.

His face changes slightly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm sure they wouldn't mind me taking my... partner with me."

"Your working partner," he clarifies, and I look away, ashamed.

Gentle fingers turn my face back to meet his tender gaze.

"It's okay, Sam. We don't need to tell them anything you don't want to."

"It's just... I'm not ashamed, it's not that. But I'm still not fully used to this myself, how could I expect them to..."

"It's okay, lover," he repeats.

"To his dying day my father didn't know about me. I just couldn't make myself shatter his illusions. He was a Naval man, and... But my mom and sister knew. Still it took me *years* to come clean to them. How could I expect you to do it after two days, or two weeks? I will *never* ask you to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing. Not in a relationship. Work," he grins, "is another thing entirely."

I grin back, relieved of his attitude, and that I didn't offence him by demanding... closets.

Then I realise he finally called me something else than by my name. I smile, feeling more assured of the couple-thing working out.

"We have to go via my place to get their presents, and I want to change clothes as well."

"Sure. When are you expected?"

"Oh, not in few hours," I reply eyeing him up suggestively.

"I've created a monster," he groans as I pull him into a kiss.

*****

I call them before we leave, just to warn them that I'm bringing a guest. Mom did ask me if I'm bringing a girl last time I called...

"I'm bringing my partner along, if you don't mind. His home is kind of far away, and..." I appeal to her mother instincts, which are quite well-developed, and am instantly rewarded.

"The American you've mentioned? Of course you can't leave him alone on a day like this! We have plenty of food. When are you coming?"

"In few hours, if that's okay?"

"Perfect, Susie and Ford will be here by then as well."

"Good. See you soon, mom."

I turn to look at Chris, who emerges from his bedroom, and seeing my glance takes a mocking turn like a model.

"Do I disgrace you?"

He's wearing black jeans and a black v-necked shirt. And needless to say he looks bloody delicious.

"My sisters won't be able to keep their hands off you."

"Sisters? How many people are we exactly talking about here?"

"My parents, my three sisters, and one brother. And probably some old aunt and plenty of neighbours. And the kids of course."

"And I thought meeting Teresa's parents was hard..."

"Well, at least you could let them know your true reason of being there," I mutter bitterly as we get in the car.

"Sam..."

"No, I'm sorry. I... Never being near a closet I find it hard to adjust."

"I don't have to come."

"Yes, you do," I turn to look at him, and try to make him see how serious I am, "because for the one day in a year I want my whole family around me."

He raises his hand to touch my face softly before turning to face the wheel, and starts the car.

"So, tell me about them."

"My mom is sweet. She was a hairdresser, but after my oldest siblings started to make money she stayed home. She knows nothing about my job, although she must suspect. She has seen me turn colder than ice during my years in MI6, and... But she's great. My dad is a retired policeman. He's... he... I guess he realises I'm in law enforcement as well, and I suppose he's proud of me in a way.

My oldest sister, Karen, is forty-two, married, and has two kids, Jerry and Greg. My brother Michael is thirty-eight, also married, and has a daughter, Samantha. Twins Susie and Sarah are twenty-seven. I believe Susie has a new bloke, mom mentioned someone called 'Ford'. I don't know about Sarah, but she has a kid called Kenneth."

"You're 29 this year... That means there's quite a gap between you and Michael."

"They were... bad years. Mom had two miscarriages."

"And you really have a present for them all?"

"If I spend almost hundred quid to buy my boss handcuffs, I think I can play Santa to twelve people I meet once a year."

"You don't need to explain, lover, I know. I don't have a family left anymore, but I did. And after joining SEALs I drifted quite far from their world, but still..."

"Family ties bind. Yeah. I don't live in their world, and the one day of it is usually too much to me. Thank God you're there this time!"

"They're the innocents," Chris says, and I understand what he means perfectly.

They are the people we're supposed to protect, and the less they know about the dangers out there the better. We both lost our innocence many years ago, and can never live in that happy oblivion again. We are covered in blood and violence, and can't really ever escape the aura of death around us.

I think the only real chance of a relationship for the likes of us *is* someone from the same world. I try to explain my thoughts to Chris, and just as he's about to answer we burst in laughter as the song on the radio works through to our brains.

It's the awfully sentimental theme song from 'Home and Away'.

"We belong together, you and I forever and ever, no matter where you are, you're my guiding star... walking on air, just to know you're there... Hold me in your arms never let me go... Let me be the one you turn to, someone you can rely on..."

"You know what the really scary thing is, Sam?" he asks when we've stopped laughing.

"What?"

"How damn true the soppiest love songs sometimes sound."

I think he just told me he... O wow.

Thank God we're here for I have no idea what to say.

"This it?"

"Yeah... I..." I turn to him, and kiss him quickly.

"Let's go meet the Curtis clan, love," I grin, exiting the car.

He stops me by grabbing my arm as I'm fishing the presents from the trunk, and looks at me seriously.

"Your sense of timing sucks. But I love you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So let's go and deal with your family now. I think I could wrestle a rancor, so I guess they're not that big a challenge."

I swallow as I see the emotion in his eyes. He really, really does love me. Oh. My. God. My world just turned perfect.

"I could almost, *almost* introduce you as my lover feeling like this, but..."

"But I don't think they deserve that kind of a Christmas gift," he finishes my sentence, then grins wickedly, and quotes the song we just heard as we walk up to the front door.

"Walking on air, just to know, just to know you're there..."

"Soppy little creature, aren't you?" I grin back.

"Now that I know you can stomach it, yeah."

"You thought I wouldn't want you to...?"

He shrugs.

"It was all just so new to you. Didn't want to scare you with too much pressure..."

"Chris... I..."

The door opens, and I find myself in my mother's arms. From inside the house I hear screaming and laughing and Christmas carols, and feeling Chris stand right next to me know I'm in for a day of innocent happiness. It fills me with soppy thankfulness, and I smile to my mother as I disentangle myself from her hug, and introduce Chris to her.

"Mr Keel, Sammy has told me so much about you," she beams, and hugs him as well.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Curtis. Please call me Chris," he smiles back.

"Then I am Judith, do come in. Kids! Sammy is here!"

Then we're in the middle of the chaos that is my family.

I try to introduce them to Chris, but I'm not sure how much he can actually take in. I hug all my siblings, and their spouses, and the children, and then finally my dad.

They all talk at the same time, and it amuses me as always. I've walked around for so many years with the reputation of icy efficiency that if anyone at work knew I was from these circumstances...

"People, this is Chris Keel, my friend and partner, Chris, these crazy people are my family."

He shakes hands with everyone he can reach, and the crowd moves to the living room.

"Do I play the Santa now, or are we going to eat first?"

"We opened the rest of the presents this morning, you can give the kids theirs now, if you like. Yours are on the side table."

"Mom, you may call us kids, but that hardly applies to you and dad. You know I brought you presents, too. Can the food preparations wait that long?"

"I wouldn't miss watching the little ones open theirs for the world, Sam."

So we sit down, Chris next to me, looking a little bewildered I suppose, and I 'play the Santa'.

The children have to have theirs first, of course, before they tear the place up. The youngest was easy. Kenneth is just four, so I just wandered into a toy store and got him a game that claims to be suitable for that age group.

Jerry and Greg are ten and twelve, so PlayStation 2 solved their case. Karen pretends to glare at me.

"How do I *ever* get them to go out after this!?"

"Well, just wait a few years 'til they start to notice girls, and then you'll hope they'd *stay* in playing," her husband grins.

Samantha was a harder case. What do I know about today's fifteen year old girls? So in the end I bought her a new CD-player at the same time I bought the PS2 to the boys. She seems happy enough, and rushes to hug me - something she didn't do when I came in, trying to appear all grown up and giving the eye to my partner, I noticed.

To my sisters, sister-in-law and my mother I give African jewellery and statues (wooden, not ivory) I bought when we were there.

Chris raises his eyebrow at me, and I grin.

"I had to do something while you were lazing in the hospital."

Mom demands an explanation, and Chris gives it to her lightly enough. I doubt I could be that careless about it. Chris didn't then mean half to me what he does now, but still almost losing him...

"We were on a work trip there and I had a bit of an accident. Had to spend a little while in the hospital. Sam obviously found something to keep him amused during that..."

To my brother-in-law I bought the usual bottle of whiskey. Then there's only dad left.

I've hold on to the autographed photograph of Ingrid Sommelson for three months now, before finally giving it to him. Saved me from having to think of another gift.

"Why, Sammy, thank you. How on Earth... Did you have something to do with solving that murder attempt of hers when she was in the country?" he asks, and I share an amused glance with Chris.

Seeing that I was the one who shot her - live on TV, too - I can't really tell the truth.

"Yes, I had. But you know I can't talk about my job."

"Told you he's a spy," Susie grins to her newest boyfriend, who looks a bit misplaced in his suit.

Curious, then, that Chris looks right at home in the middle of my family...

Mom is frowning at Susie: "Be serious!" But I just laugh, and again share an amused glance with Chris.

"Well, thank you Sam, and don't forget your presents. I'll go and check on the food now..."

"Sit down, mom, I know you want to talk to Sam. I'll do it," Karen says.

I tell my mom that I'll open my presents later, and take them to the hall where we left our coats and bag. The latter contains our weapons and mobile phones. CI5 agents are not allowed to leave their apartments without those essentials, even on a supposed free day.

By the time I get back the kids have disappeared to play with their gifts, and mom is giving Chris the third degree.

"Yes, I've been married," I hear Chris explaining, "but she died."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How long have you been in England?" she changes the subject tactfully.

"Three years, soon."

"Your accent is still quite marked," Sarah remarks.

"She's an English teacher, don't mind her. She gives us a hard time about our careless way of speaking," Susie tells him.

"Oh? And I thought Sam was bad," my cheeky lover says.

"Bill Gates can be blamed for many things, but I think his worst crime was providing us with the choice of 'US English' for spell checking," I say dryly.

"That why you type in all our reports nowadays?"

"Either that or take the dressing down on not knowing my native language," I mutter darkly.

"Go help Karen, or play with the kids, Sammy. I want to talk with Chris," mother tells me, and I oblige, shooting a worried glance at Chris.

He answers with a minimal shrug.

So I help Karen with food, and get an update on the lives of everyone in the family. Karen's husband Clifford just got a promotion, and Susie's Ford is a lawyer, and so forth.

By the time the food is ready I'm anxious to get to see how Chris is doing. I shouldn't have worried. Sarah and mom have kept him talking, it seems.

And I'm not going to get jealous over my own sister, even though she is (also) giving the eye to my lover.

Karen also told me Sarah just broke up with her long-term boyfriend a month ago because he didn't like kids. When I walk in, Kenneth has just dragged his favourite games to them, and Chris is obviously the next target. And seeing how well he gets along with Ken, I can almost see mom and Sarah purr.

They must think any friend of mine would be a catch. Looking at Chris sitting on the floor with Ken does give me a minor jolt. He should get kids one day, instead of...

Then, as he turns to the door, as if instinctively knowing I've entered the room, and his face lightens up in a different kind of smile I realise how stupid those thoughts are.

We may be visiting in the world of sheep, but we are wolves. Chris as a family man? Hardly. Besides, if he'd wanted to settle down with a woman and a bunch of children, he could have. But he chose me.

He's explaining it to mom at the moment. Well, not exactly, but the idea.

"Yes, I like children, but... I've never really considered having own. They don't really go well with the job, you know."

Then Sarah goes for the most important question: is he seeing someone. Chris keeps his eyes off me, and on the game he's playing with my youngest nephew.

"Yes," he replies, "I am seeing someone."

Mom asks the obvious question.

"Why aren't you spending the Christmas with her, then?"

Chris looks up at me, and smiles again. When he's looking at me like that my heart is so full I almost, *almost* reply that he *is*.

"'Cos I'm spending it with Sam," he answers before I have time to do something stupid. Sly bastard. He wasn't even lying, so I embroider it a bit.

"Everyone wants to be with their families today," and if they take that as an indication that 'she' is with her parents somewhere, is it my problem?

Chris' lips twitch as he's fighting not to laugh, and I turn my eyes on my mother, who's talking to me now.

"The Blythes are coming to eat with us. Maribel is with them," she says meaningfully.

"Mother," I start, but she smiles disarmingly.

"I know, I know, and I'm not trying to push you into anything. But she is a lovely young woman, and you are the only one of my children who isn't showing signs of settling down. I can try."

"Well, just as Chris says, it doesn't really go with the job," I say silently, hoping she won't go on explaining how well we've always got along with her in the past.

"Besides, I am seeing someone," I continue.

"But obviously not someone you'd bring home to us. So it can't be the same!"

"Mom..."

"Don't use that tone, Sam. I know I'm an interfering old hag, but I would like to see you in a happy relationship. Is that too much to ask?"

I'm this close to telling her the truth when the doorbell rings.

"That'll be them. I'm not pushing, Sammy," she repeats, "but she *is* lovely. I would be proud to call her a daughter."

I nearly howl of frustration when she disappears to the door. I did not want Chris to witness *this*. I didn't even remember that one of the neighbours I mentioned was bound to me Maribel Blythe, whom mom has been trying to marry me with for years. And I seem to recall she wasn't opposed to the idea.

I avoid looking at Chris. If he looks accusing, I don't know what I'll do.

So I brave it through. Maribel's hug, her mother greeting me like a long lost son. The cheerful Christmas meal with Maribel sitting next to me, and Chris next to Sarah.

He seems to be enjoying himself, and he smiles to me every now and then, but... But it's agony.

And all the things they talk about... their mundane little worries... are so removed from our world that I'm again reminded why I only see them couple of times a year.

What if I told them I bought their presents when I was waiting for Chris get out of the hospital after ivory smugglers had caused our plane to crash, and I'd had to carry him through African savannah for a day?

My life, our lives, would sound like a movie or a TV-series to them. Taking that thought further I name the series "Queer as Folk 3", and almost laugh to the associations it creates.

Maribel wants to know what I was thinking, so I employ my well-learned skills on diplomacy and evade the question.

Somehow I make it through the meal, and after it grab Chris, and disappear to the backyard.

"If I smoked, I'd say I need a cigarette right about now," I sigh, "I swear to God I didn't know mom was still on that... if I'd known she was coming..."

"It's okay," Chris mutters, and I finally look into his eyes. He smiles a little, and comes to stand very close to me as I lean on the wall.

"I may not be as desired in-law to your mother - well, not that way anyway - but it wasn't in *her* bed you woke up this morning."

I wrap my arms around him, and pull him even closer.

"If you look at it that way..." I smile.

"That's how I get through it," he answers simply and rests his hands on the wall on both sides of my head. Then he's kissing me.

If I could just explain to them how good and right it feels to be in his arms... That the mere thought of Maribel when he is in the same room is impossible... Then I think no more, but concentrate on kissing him back.

We don't notice that the door has opened next to us, until a stifled gasp pulls us apart. We turn to look at the source of the sound, and meet the wide-eyed stare of Susie's.

"I... I'm sorry, but your mobile's... oh God..."

"I'll go," Chris says, and disappears inside.

I run my hand through my hair, and look at my sister.

"Oh God..."

I say nothing, offer no explanations, when she suddenly giggles. To my raised eyebrow she explains.

"Guess Maribel's out, then."

"I told mom I was seeing someone, didn't I?" I risk a slight smile.

Susie closes the door behind her, and moves to lean on the wall next to me.

"You want to tell me about it?"

I shrug.

"What is there to tell? I've never been nothing but straight, then I... I fell for Chris. We've been together for a while, and... and it's serious. Not the kind of settling down mom has in mind, but best shot we have in our lives."

"Spy-life."

"I'm not a spy anymore, kitten," I reply, instinctively using my old nickname for her. She was my closest sibling.

She giggles again.

"Poor Sarah, too."

I grin.

"Should I tell her to keep her hands off my property?"

She laughs at that, and moves a little closer, until her shoulder touches mine. I feel a huge sense of relief; she seems to be okay about this.

"It'll take a bit of getting used to," she says as if reading my mind.

"Yeah, for me too," I grin.

"But I won't tell the others. I don't think dad would..."

"No, me neither."

"Mom might... She likes him."

"She would like him to marry Sarah and give a dad to that little pest, and me to marry Maribel."

"She just wants us to be happy. Dad was seething when Sarah decided to not to marry Ken's dad, but mom stood behind her."

"I know. And I... maybe. But..."

"It's okay," she says, touching my arm, "It's your business, yours and Chris'. But..." she grins, "he seems like a nice guy. Best of luck. And if you ever need to talk..."

"Thanks, Susie," I answer, quite touched, just as the door opens again, and worried looking Chris is standing there.

"We've gotta go," he says without warning, but looks at us searchingly as if trying to decide what's happened.

"Problems?"

"Backup called. There's a... uh..." he looks at Susie, and I translate this as 'something serious we can't discuss when there are civilians about'.

Funny, really. Half a second ago she was my sister, my flesh and blood, and now she is an outsider, a sheep, an innocent, so far removed from my world that...

"Duty calls," I smile to Susie, and kiss her cheek, "Thanks, little sister."

"Anytime," she hugs me, "After all, you covered for me when I was snogging Edmund..."

I laugh at the memory of many years back, and follow Chris in. We go to the living room to make our excuses, and the mobile in Chris' hand rings again.

"4.5," he replies, and I see the curious looks my family fixes on him.

"Distance to rendezvous ten to fifteen mikes, we have the car 3.7 signed out three days ago. --- Backup, we're at Sam's parents' for God's sake! We're wearing civilians and carrying just handguns."

He tries to talk quietly, but since everyone followed us to the hall they can probably make out every word. Thank God he's moved to listening and only mutters a few affirmatives in between.

As he finishes he turns first to explain the situation to me, then to my mother to apologise for our hasty departure.

"Backup brings our fatigues to the rendezvous point if we need them, we're waited there in a quarter. I'll brief you in a car. Mrs Curtis, Judith, thank you for the lovely meal, and I'm sorry we cannot stay. Good to meet you all."

"But it's Christmas," my mom says as I hug her goodbye.

"Work never stops when you're fighting crime," dad sighs, staring at the bag I'm holding, and the gun that I realise is visible from the open zipper. Guess he finally believes I really do work in law enforcement of a sort...

I feel like doing Stuarts and throwing in the little titbit about my sexual orientation to the revelations, but think better of it.

"We'll be back later, if we can," Chris promises, and I take this to mean we're to do something in London.

"Merry Christmas," I say last before we're out of the door. On the way to the car we put on our shoulder holsters, although I'm fairly sure my entire family is looking from the windows. But after being called away like this...

Chris sits on the driver's seat since I don't even know the meeting place.

"Well, a bit of a coming out that as well..." I mutter good-humouredly.

Oddly I feel good, even though our Christmas vacation was just cut short. But my mom liked Chris, and Susie was okay about us. Maybe, just maybe...

"What did they think you do for a living?" Chris asks, most of his concentration on getting us through London on life-threatening speed.

"I'm not quite sure, actually. I've been rather vague about it."

"I like your family," he says suddenly, and turns to smile to me, just as he's taking a suicidal turn on a corner.

"Yeah, they liked you too. Eyes on the road, please."

"Why? You're much more interesting. What did your sister say?"

"'Poor Maribel and Sarah'."

"Really?"

"Yes. And she seemed to derive some malicious pleasure from that. No really, she was okay about it."

"What was that about 'snogging Edmund'?"

"Her boyfriend on school. Stolen from Sarah, actually. Our parents didn't like him, and thought her too young to date. So I kinda helped."

"Not a very protective brother."

"Were you, then?"

"Well, I remember bloodying a few noses on Christy's behalf... And stealing one of her boyfriends."

"WHAT?"

"Bet you'd want to hear that story. Too bad we're already here."

"You little..."

He turns to grin at me, adrenaline kicking in.

"Let's go save the world."