Jays2 (22/?)
Jays2 (22/?)
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’
Word Count: 7,500
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos. This is for fun, not profit.
Summary: Sometimes you want something with all your heart and you’re lucky enough and blessed enough that all your Christmas wishes come true. But it all comes down to whether you’ve been naughty or nice and while sometimes not-so-nice things happen to all-too-nice people, if you’ve been a dick for most of the year, Santa’s gonna return the favor.
A/N: This wasn’t part of the story in my head originally, but I was working on my J2 version of the Mighty Ducks and writing some holiday scenes for it and I missed my baseball boys, so I thought - why not? Plus, there’s only a few more chapters of this ‘verse planned and I really don’t wanna let my boys go, so this is an extra treat for all of us. I hope it’s sweet and satisfying. The lyrics and title are from Mariah Carey's All I want for Christmas is you. Enjoy!
Comments = Love!
Master Post
TWENTY-TWO
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU
In Buffalo, New York
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
"Chad!"
Chad almost fell off his chair in shock. "Fuck, dad!" He exclaimed as the wooden chair teetered precariously, with him still on it. He glared at his father, who was practically howling with laughter. That was some awesome parenting right there. "You scared the shit outta me. I coulda died."
"Only the good die young, kiddo, so you're still gonna be around when you're a hundred." Rex Murray chuckled, walking over and thumping him on the thigh, almost sending him off-balance again. "You get it open yet?"
"No," Chad grumbled, trying again to unscrew the air vent cover up on the living room wall in his dad’s house. "I'm still not clear on why we have to get this thing off. You've worn out the screws here."
"Yeah. The old eyes aren't what they used to be. 'Sides, I need to get what I hid back there."
Chad looked down at his dad and tried not to roll his eyes. "I don't see why you gotta hide my Christmas present when I don't even live here anymore."
"Did you or did you not go through my stuff looking for your present?" And yeah, okay daddy dearest had a point. He grinned unrepentently as his father shook his head, a fond look in his eyes. "I raised you, punk. I know all."
"Yeah, yeah," Chad sniggered, actually applying himself to the task at hand now that he knew his dad's little cubby hole held his Christmas present. "Got it!"
Chad pulled out the tin canister duct-taped to the inside of the vent. It was a coin bank in the shape of a can of tomato soup with Chaddie written on a piece of duct tape on the side. He hopped down off the chair, shaking the can, because that's what you did with Christmas presents, but it only made a quiet rustling sound.
"Pretty good, huh?" His father asked, looking at the little contraption in his hand with pride. "See - I put it there so that with the vent cover screwed on, I could slide stuff right into the slot and I wouldn't be tempted to actually take the thing off and open it." The older man rocked back and forth on his heels, beaming up at Chad. "Whatever's in it is yours, brat."
Chad blinked rapidly. It didn't help. Shit. He tried to speak but no words came out and instead his lower lip wobbled and his eyes teared up and then he turned into a big, fucking chick.
He hugged his father, sniffling into the man's shoulder like the pussy he apparently was; seriously, any minute now, his dick was gonna fall off. "Thanks, Pop."
"What do get you the kid who can get himself anything he wants? Go on, open it," his father said gruffly, sounding like he was sniffling a bit too. And goddamn, that's likely where he got it from.
"Okay, okay," Chad mumbled, reaching into his jeans pocket and handing his dad an envelope. "You open this," he said as he made his way into the kitchen to find the can opener.
"Holy shit," his father exclaimed once he had the can opened, and had traipsed back into the living room. "Two tickets to Maui?"
"Yup," Chad grinned, and his father's happy smile made him feel blubbery on the inside again. Fuckin' holidays. He looked at the bundle of money in his hands. He hadn't counted it yet but it looked like just under a grand from all the rolled up notes in the can.
"Who am I gonna go with?" His old man asked, looking just a little bit hopeful and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at Chad.
"Well, you could ask Uncle Gus, or one of your lady friends..." Chad paused for effect and ignored the pang he felt when his father's face fell a little. "Then again, I've got nothing going on and some old dude just gave me all this free cash so..."
His father's grin lit up the whole damn room and that said a lot, 'cause he was competing with the Christmas tree. "These valid anytime?"
"Just say the word, Pop."
"I've got a couple of weeks vacation still, we can go as early as January."
"Awesome," Chad smirked, "look out Hawaii - here come the Murray men." He slung an arm around his dad's shoulders and pulled him close. "Don't go mackin' on my hook-ups, 'kay Pops?"
His father reached out and pinched him on the ass and Chad yelped, pouting. "Who do you think taught you those tricks, punk? You're the one who's gonna have to up your game!" He smiled as he placed the airplane tickets on the mantle, giving them a little pat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. "Food's here."
"Finally," Chad said. "I'm starving, man." He went to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and cutlery and bring them to the small dining table at the other end of the living room.
All this money, and his dad had still not wanted to move out of this old house or this boring city. Jeez, who the hell chose to live in Buffalo? But his father liked it, liked the old neighborhood, and he had his friends and his work and this life was so used to, so who was Chad to find fault with that? His Pop had roots; Chad was a nomad. To each his own, he thought.
In a few seconds, the scent of fresh pizza assailed his senses and Chad breathed in the aroma, his stomach rumbling. So they didn't do the traditional Christmas deal, but neither he nor his dad could cook for shit and they both liked pizza, so problem solved.
He was back in the kitchen grabbing some ice-cold brewskis from the fridge when his dad met him in the doorway with a pan in his arms that looked like it held an aluminum-foil covered... turkey? "Since when does Pizza Hut deliver turkeys?"
"There's this really pushy dame at the door who says she knows you," his father told him, looking perplexed and a little... well, afraid. "First, she ripped me a new one for getting pizza for Christmas dinner, then she yelled at the delivery guy for not being home with his family on this fine night, and then she shoved this turkey in my hands before she took off." His father walked right by him and balancing the turkey, somehow managed to get the oven open and put it in. Then he turned the thing on, Chad watching in bemusement.
"What are you doing?"
"She said warm it," his father explained, "so I'm warming it. You know some weird people."
"Dad! I don't know any turkey-wielding women!"
"Jesus, what if it's a bomb?"
"A bomb in a turkey?"
"How many women have you pissed off this season?"
Chad smirked. "Plenty."
His father rolled his eyes. "Lemme give you some advice, son: pissed off women do crazy shit."
"Yeah, like gay-marrying obliviously in love baseball players," Chad muttered to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing," Chad grinned, and they both turned when the doorbell rang again.
"You get it this time," his father urged.
"Way to man up, Pop," he said, taking a deep breath and going to the door, his father on his heels.
"I got your back, son."
"Gee, thanks, dad," Chad chuckled, carefully opening the front door, only to be engulfed in a cinnamon spice scented hug before he could identify the mystery woman.
"Merry Christmas, baby!" The woman's muffled voice said into his neck, and Chad felt the tension drain out of him, a big, dopey grin splitting his face as he hugged her back, lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm.
"Georgie!"
"So you do know her," his father said from behind him as Chad gave her another squeeze before letting go.
"Yeah." Chad pulled back to make introductions as the lovely lady unravelled her scarf and took off her gloves. "Dad, Georgiana Collins. Georgie, my dad, Rex. Georgie is Misha's mom."
"Oh!" His father managed to say before he too was hugged to within an inch of his life. He looked at Chad quizzically over Georgie's shoulder. Chad shrugged, looked out at the empty walkway, way more interested in where his missing Misha was.
"He's parking the car up the street that way," Georgie told him, "and there's more food in it, so why don't you go give him a hand, Chad?"
"Yes, ma'am," Chad grinned, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door as Georgie turned to address his still somewhat stunned father.
"Grab those dishes on the front porch, will you, Rex? That's the roasted vegetables; I hope you boys like yams. Did you put the turkey in the oven to warm up yet? Oh, come along, Rex, chop, chop..."
Chad laughed, closing the door behind him, only a little sorry to leave his father behind undefended, but Misha was somewhere out there and he needed to see him. Needed. Yeah. Who woulda guessed?
The slamming of a car door caught his attention, and suddenly Chad was jogging along the icy sidewalk, making a beeline towards the man in the camel coat.
"It's the fuckin' ice age out here, Mayhem," Misha glared at him when Chad ran up, a great big frown on his face. "I'm freezing my goddamn balls off; I hope you're happy."
"I can warm them up for you," Chad magnanimously offered. "They're pretty cute, wouldn't want them to come to any harm."
"I hate you," Misha declared, shoving a couple of foil-covered pie dishes into his arms. "And I hate Buffalo."
"Okay," Chad nodded, trying to commiserate but sounding - and looking, he was sure - way too gleeful. "Er... but it begs the question: if you hate me and Buffalo so much, why are you here?"
"You bewitched my mother," Misha growled at him, "and it had better not have been with sex, dude, because I will kill you."
"For the final goddamn time, man - she's your mother. Off limits."
"Yeah?"
"I solemnly swear I have never put the moves on your mom."
"That really means nothing coming from you, douchebag."
Chad sighed. Okay, that had been a lie. "All right. Except for that first time you introduced us. But - she totally blew me off and I have never tried again!"
Misha whirled on him like a fury, and Chad backtracked in a hurry, stopped only by Misha's car at his back. "She blew you?"
"Off!" Chad shouted, holding the pies to his chest like a shield. "She blew me off as in shot me down! Jesus."
"Oh."
"Jesus," Chad declared again, more than a little thankfully.
"Huh." Misha regarded him in silence, his bright blue eyes roving all over Chad's face like Misha had forgotten what he looked like, but that didn't make sense because one, Chad was unforgettable, and two, they had only parted ways a month ago. "Fine. Let's go get this shit over with."
"Wait," Chad called out, putting his pies on the top of the car and relieving Misha of his dishes as well.
"God, now what?" Misha's eyes widened as Chad yanked him close, a tight grip on the lapels of his coat.
"Missed you," Chad whispered when their faces were inches apart, their breaths misting in the cold night air.
"I'm very miss-able," Misha said just as quietly. "You, on the other hand..."
"The first baseman doth protest too much, methinks," Chad murmured almost against his lips as Misha looked at him in shock. Chad stroked his thumb along the cool skin of Misha's jaw, smirking a little as the look on the other man's face morphed into something else, something softer, something more - grudgingly - affectionate. Then Misha moved a tiny little bit, just enough to place a light kiss on the pad of Chad's thumb and the sweetness of that gesture made him feel ridiculously warm despite the cold outside. "I'm happy you're here..."
"Yeah, yeah," Misha groused. "Now shut up and kiss me so we can go eat."
|*|*|*|
In Eastport, Maine
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
David reluctantly turned away from the window and looked back at his family gathering around the dinner table. Everyone had showed up in Eastport this year, not just his older sister and her family, but also his parents, and his grandparents, and every child that had sprung forth from their collective loins.
It was all a little much.
He grabbed his jacket from the closet beside the door and headed out, heedless of the cold. He walked to the same spot where he had stood a few weeks ago and had callously broken John's heart; he had been coming to this spot every day, like a damn bad habit he couldn't break, like some debilitating self-inflicted punishment where all the pain he felt was buried deep, hidden from prying eyes.
He blew on his hands, and then patted his jacket pockets in search for a pair of gloves. He didn't find any, and he supposed he deserved frozen fingers; maybe they would fall off from frostbite and then he'd have the best excuse in the world not to show up in Dunedin in the spring.
He had no idea how he was going to do this; no idea if he was strong enough or brave enough to go through another year of looking and not touching John.
Sonofabitch.
This was not supposed to happen to him. He had spent a lifetime avoiding just such a situation - his career had always, always, been more important to him than love - and yet he falls for the charms of a boy? This young kid, wet behind the ears, barely out of school... a goddamn baby? What the hell did that say about him? He was pushing forty for chrissake, and the kid was barely legal and his fucked up mind had to go and form an attachment and fucking imprint on this... child?
Jesus.
He had had no other choice, right? He had done what he had to do. John had his whole life ahead of him, and a stellar career if he kept his shit up and took care of his throwing arm, and David had taught him some of those moves he knew so well and he was so proud of the kid's progress and his accomplishments, so proud to have played alongside him, and it ate him up inside that he could never voice that. Not ever.
No, instead of being like a proud father, he had to go and lust after the kid, like some dirty old man instead. And he couldn't live with himself if he gave into temptation, and even if John was more than willing to go there, David wasn't about to be the one to sully him, to muck up that angelic exterior, to ruin him.
To hurt him.
Except... he had hurt him, and hurt himself in the process, and this is why he didn't do relationships; this is why he stayed away from love and all the commitments that came with it.
"Dave?" He turned to see Harmon call out to him from the front yard. "Dinner's waiting on you."
"Be right there," David yelled back, taking one last look at the starry night sky reflected in the dark water.
He had done the right thing pushing John away, and some day - soon, he hoped - he would believe that himself.
It's just that today was not that day.
|*|*|*|
In Eden, Idaho
I won't ask for much this Christmas
I don't even wish for snow
I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
Cory let the noise and laughter of his family and friends and neighbors wash over him, the converted barn teeming with people at their annual Christmas dinner. There were red-checkered tables all around them, brimming with food, Christmas music blaring from the speakers and everywhere he looked everyone was smiling.
He was smiling too, but it was mostly for show, although no one really noticed the difference, not even him, but he was well on his way to drunk, so... yeah.
He sipped his liberally spiked cider and resolutely did not think of Mark Salling and his goddamn pierced nipple that had felt so good in his mouth. And jeez, why did he suddenly have to think of that in the first place?
He shook his head to clear the fog surrounding it. No thinking about baseball or ball players. That was the deal and he was sticking to it. Sure, it had been hard - God, so hard - but he and his right hand were getting real good at taking care of that not-so-little problem. He just hoped he wouldn't get carpal tunnel or anything; he needed his wrist in good shape, especially in his pitching arm, although on the upside, the muscles in his right forearm had never looked better.
Jesus, this was so not working.
"Cory."
He jumped a little when his mother suddenly appeared in front of him. "Hey, mom."
"I haven't seen you mingling."
"I'm working up to it."
"Cory." She packed a lot of disappointment into that one word. Join the club, he thought, he was disappointed too. His mother huffed and gave him a little push. "The girls are waiting on you, go talk to them!" Cory looked at the girls in question, walking in their direction and smiling hesitantly.
His mother had outdone herself with her matchmaking this year, finding him not one, but two different girls to keep him company, Dianna Agron and Lea Michele. They were like polar opposites of each other; one blonde and the other brunette, one soft-spoken while the other was fiery, but both of them beautiful and sweet and sexy in their own right.
His mom sure covered all her bases, but she was still batting zero.
That is until he stepped under the mistletoe and got the shit kissed out of him by first Lea and then, not ten minutes later, by Dianna, and hot damn. Now this was more like it. Merry Christmas to him.
And Mark, who?
|*|*|*|
In Wheeling, Illinois
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeers click
"John?"
"I'm fine, Mom," John sighed, blinking at his mother's silhouette in the darkened doorway of his room.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I promise," he assured her, trying to sound sincere even though he knew she could hear the lie in his voice.
"Okay," his mother whispered softly, "if you're sure..."
"I'm just tired, I'll be better tomorrow."
"I'm sorry, honey. Your dad will come around, you'll see."
"Sure," he said, trying to sound confident, and when she sighed, John knew she was going to let it drop... for tonight, at least. "G'night, mom."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she said and hesitating just a moment longer, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.
The quiet rustle of sheets broke the ensuing silence as he turned in bed, staring at the wall and the empty rectangular spot there, right in between two posters, one of Mariano Rivera and the other of Trevor Hoffman, two of the greatest closers of all time.
The empty spot had belonged to John's personal favorite. His idol. His role model. The man he had been stupid enough to fall in love with. The man who had ripped out his heart and hacked it to pieces before giving the tattered shreds back to John.
Well, that's what it had felt like anyway.
And now he was supposed to go back to the Jays and spring training camp and be like everything was okay? Like he had gotten over it, moved on, dusted himself off, and was rearin' to go again?
He felt... bruised. Damaged. Shattered.
He wondered if this was a rite of passage into adulthood that he had somehow skipped before; all part and parcel of becoming a man.
A gay man, a little voice in his head corrected.
Yeah, that too. Twenty-four years old and finally out to his parents. And the result: his mom had been shocked into silence while his dad had flown into a rage.
But at least it was done, and it was a load off, and even though his father hadn't really spoken to him in the month since he had sat them both down for The Talk, he had thawed just enough to wish John for Christmas. It was the season for miracles, John supposed, and even if his father could barely stand to look at him, and his mother was still awkward around him, and David had broken him, John felt... okay, he felt like shit warmed over, and uncomfortable and unhappy in his own home.
And what was that about being a man now? He was an adult. Why the hell was he doing this to himself? He had his own place, and good friends who accepted him just the way he was. It was only logical that eventually he would find someone who loved him too, right? He'd just stay out of David's way until then, because just the thought of seeing him again made his insides twist painfully. And if, like David had said, the older man didn't make the active roster, then all the better for John.
Ignoring the little voice in his head calling him a liar, he threw the sheets off himself and grabbed his laptop, powering it on while he dragged out his suitcase and packed up some of his clothes. Going online, he found the earliest flight back to Toronto and booked himself on it, zipping up his bag with a satisfied sigh before slipping into bed again. He'd done the family Christmas thing and it had nearly killed him; he was determined to do New Year's differently.
It was a new beginning after all, time to man up and move on.
|*|*|*|
In Hoboken, New Jersey
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you
Mark belly-flopped onto his bed and smashed his face into the pillows. He hadn't had much more to drink than the egg nog his Uncle Manny had made but then again Uncle Manny was known for spiking his 'nog to the nines.
He flipped onto his back and scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling until his body was beneath the covers. He was freakin' stuffed; it had been a good family dinner. No fights had broken out this year, and yeah sure, insults had been hurled across the dinner table and there had been a whole heckuva lotta yelling, but no one had been injured, maimed or killed, so Mark figured he could call it a win for the Sallings and their extended family.
Man, nothing beat a good ol' fashioned Jersey Christmas.
Sighing, he grabbed his phone from beside the bed and flicked through his text messages. A few of the guys on the team had wished him, and there was a missed call from David, but nothing from... the general direction of Idaho.
Whatever.
It's not like Mark missed him, or thought about him much. He had his off-season life, his car, his friends, his family, and hot girls and guys just there for the taking.
Only... he wasn't taking. Shit. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone this long without hooking up; it sucked balls.
He looked at the empty pillow on the bed next to him, and not for the first time wondered how nice it would be to have someone there. Wait, nice? Jesus. His mind's eye conjured up an image of Montieth and he huffed out a breath, staring at the ceiling instead. Why the fuck wasn't he over this yet?
Okay, so he had been thinking of Cory Montieth. Like a lot. Okay, like all the time. The urge to figure out what the hell had sent the giant dork running away from him was crazy strong but he was resisting it. So far. Yeah. Could he get any more pathetic? Not likely. Or very possibly. Whatever.
Just last week he had been surfing the net and he had suddenly found himself looking at fights to Boise. What the fuck, right? His mind was apparently on a mission his body was not aware of, when usually they were pretty much in synch. And that was the kicker: Montieth had him all tied up in knots over this.
Maybe it was because he had essentially dumped him.
But didn't you have to be dating before you got dumped? There had been no dating with them; they had gone straight to fucking. There was also the little matter of Cory not liking Mark and Mark not liking Cory. At all, outside of bed, that is. Cory's body, sure. All that farm-fresh upbringing had done that boy's body good. Jesus. Real good, he thought, shifting a little under the sheets as his dick hardened.
Oh, sure - now show interest, why dontcha? His dick was on a whole other wavelength from the rest of him, one that seemed to be tuned into some channel out in Idaho. It hadn't so much as twitched when his cousin's girlfriend had been rubbing up on him earlier at the dinner table, her tits squashed into his bicep, but now, one wayward thought about Cory's body and it was all systems go? Fuck this shit.
He licked a broad stripe up his palm and shoved it beneath the covers and into his boxers, grabbing his cock, giving it a friendly squeeze and before tugging it in earnest, his thumb working the head so the moisture there eased his way. Eyes shut, he brought up a mental image of that chick at dinner. Mmm. Yeah. She had really nice tits, and a tight body. He'd have tapped that last Christmas. This Christmas, not so much. He was too distracted by a hard, very male body. Acres of smooth skin, toned pecs, muscled abs, and a dick that rivaled Jensen's, it was so pretty.
His mouth dropped opened on a gasp as he flicked his finger through his slit, rubbing along it, his nerves sparking and his muscles tensing with pleasure. He imagined that dick in his mouth, fucking deep, just the way Cory liked to do it, grabbing the back of his head hard, like he was punishing Mark - as if, right? If that was punishment, then Mark was a glutton for it - up until Mark's tongue in his slit made Cory flail like he couldn't get enough, like he was coming apart at the seams.
His other hand ventured under the covers, cupping his balls, rolling them, his breath stuttering in his chest. He sped up his hand, and slicking a finger, he trailed his left hand away from his balls, one finger teasing his hole, just the way Cory did it, pushing it slowly inside.
In his mind's eye, he saw Cory's big body above him, hard dick leaking and glistening with lube, slowly shoving into him, inexorably finding that spot Mark's finger was now glancing over, pressing against, rubbing up on until all Mark could feel was Cory, and all he could see was Cory, and all he wanted was Cory, and then he was coming, hard as usual, feeling a little lost when it was all over.
Goddammit.
He would pay good money to try and figure his way out of this hold Montieth had on him.
Grabbing a few tissues from his bedside, he cleaned off his hands and grabbed his phone again, this time scrolling through his emails, frowning when he saw one from Eric Kripke. He read it - twice - and then grinned. Oh yeah. Here was the way to chase away his blues.
Winter ball in Hawaii? He was so there; plus, Hawaiian dudes were way hotter than farmboys from Idaho. Bonus.
|*|*|*|
In Toronto, Ontario
All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
"Aldis, did you get the wine?" Beth asked as she walked out of the kitchen, one of Benji's little Bratts hitched up on her hip. Aldis grinned at the picture she made, reaching out to flick her bangs before tickling the little one in her arms.
"It's on the table already," he told her, bending down for a quick kiss.
"Great," Beth smiled, looking over her shoulder and into the kitchen. "Michaela, I think we're a go for the bird."
"One big bird coming right up," Michaela called out.
"Big Bird?"
"No, pumpkin," Benjamin chuckled as he took his daughter from Beth, quickly reassuring her, "Aunt Michaela did not cook Big Bird. It's just a big ol' yummy turkey."
"Is it that time, people?" Pej asked, rubbing his hands and surveying the table with glee. His wife came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his body, playfully holding him back.
"Easy, tiger," she laughed.
"Yeah, we've only got so much food," TJ teased, before hurrying to help his wife bring the turkey out.
"Dude, you should know better," Adam chuckled, patting Pej in the gut, "some of us are still growing boys."
"Shut up, loser," Pej warned playfully, winking at Adam's wife, "this is a six pack, right here."
"Yeah, a six pack of Twinkies," Benjamin laughed, reaching out to high-five Adam.
"Man, I could really go for a Twinkie right now," Aldis mused out loud, and the sentiment was echoed by the various assorted Beach, Bratt and Vahdat kids running around the room; thankfully the new addition to the Thyne family stayed asleep. It didn't stop him from earning a glare from the cook, though.
"Sorry, Michaela," he grinned. "Food first, kids, then dessert."
"Yay, Twinkies!" Came the victorious cry and if looks could kill, Michaela would have flayed him by now.
He pulled his wife in front of his body like a shield. "It's your job to protect me," he told her, nuzzling his face into the soft blonde hair at the nape of her neck, and damn, she smelled sweet, like gingerbread cookies.
"Was that in the job description?"
"Pretty sure it was, for better or worse, remember?"
Beth grinned at him over her shoulder, both of them a little oblivious to the chaos of the excited kids - both young and old - around them. "Which one would this be?"
Aldis couldn't help himself. He kissed her, long and deep and heartfelt. "Everything's better with you, babe."
|*|*|*|
In Green Tree, Pennsylvania
And everyone is singing
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need
Won't you please bring my baby to me...
It took what seemed like forever to make all the introductions but finally every Pine knew every Quinto in the room, not that there were so many of them, but they were all a very talkative bunch.
"So," Zach's brother Joe waggled his eyes at Chris as they dug into their dinner, "you guys gonna come out or keep this on the down low?"
"The MLB is funny," Chris' sister Katie ventured, thoughtfully nibbling on a green bean before continuing, "you guys should keep it under wraps."
"Well, we're not about to go shout out our big, gay love from the Rogers Centre rooftop," Zach told her, "but I don't really dig the idea of sneaking around like we're ashamed or something."
"Ashamed is the last thing we are," Chris agreed, squeezing Zach's hand where it rested in his on the tabletop.
"It's nobody's business but yours," Margo Quinto told them.
Gywnne Pine added her two cents. "And really, why is it such a concern in this day and age?"
"Honey, you don't know professional sports," Robert Pine told his wife, "it's a tough business and there a way too many small minded people in this world still."
"We're not worried," Chris assured them, then stopped and looked at Zach. "Are we worried?"
"We're not worried," Zach smiled, raising Chris' hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. Chris might have blushed. Only a little, though; he was sure it would be barely noticeable in the candlelight.
"You two are sickeningly cute," Katie smirked.
Joe snorted. "More like nauseating. I'm trying to eat here." Zach grinned and kicked his brother under the table, just as his mother whacked him upside the head.
"The food is delectable, Margo," Chris laughed, trying to distract her from hitting her son again. The sentiment was echoed by everyone else at the table.
Except for Joe, who winked at his mother and declared, "Meh, I've had better."
Everyone laughed as Joe was hit by a flying fig, but then they got down to the business of eating, the conversation at the table flowing freely, along with the wine and good cheer.
And later, when dessert was done, and everyone had all gathered the fireplace, sipping peppermint tea, and singing Christmas carols while his dad strummed his guitar, Chris relaxed against the doorjamb, mellow warmth spreading through his body as he watched Zach with his family.
Joe came up to him and bumped his shoulder. "You're good for him, you know," he said, "I've never seen him this genuinely happy."
Chris smiled into his glass tea cup, that stupid blush rising in his face again, no doubt. "Thanks."
Joe nodded. "What we were talking about before... about being gay in baseball. If you had to pick between baseball and my brother...?"
"Your brother," Chris replied, without hesitation and without really thinking about it.
"Good answer," Joe grinned, patting him on the shoulder before joining the rest of the family.
The ramifications of that good answer resounded in Chris's head as he stood there, motionless and staring into space.
"Everything okay?" Zach suddenly asked from beside him, startling Chris a little. Chris stared at him and in that second, everything clicked into place. He wound his arm around Zach's slim waist and pulled him close, until their faces were a hair's breadth apart.
"I love you," he breathed.
Zach blinked; once, twice. Then he smiled. "I knew that."
Chris huffed out a little laugh. "And here I thought I was having an epiphany."
"Been there, done that," Zach teased, before closing the distance between them and kissing him, soft and tender and sweet. "I love you, too."
"You have phenomenally good taste."
"So I've been told."
"Mmmhmm," Chris hummed, nipping on Zach's lower lip. "Will you move in with me?"
"Er... we're already in the same apartment."
"Different rooms, though, and a wall between us like star-crossed lovers. Let's move out and get our own place."
"Oh," Zach considered it, his eyes never leaving Chris', "you mean, with a big master bedroom? And a king-sized bed?"
"And maybe a jaccuzzi."
"I adore jaccuzzis," Zach declared, looking a little awestruck, and more than a little tempted. "Not only are you astonishingly good-looking but you're smart too."
Chris grinned cheekily. Oh, he so had this in the bag. "So I've been told."
|*|*|*|
In Victoria, British Columbia
I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Tom sat at the kitchen table and looked around dejectedly. It was quiet. Not to mention lonely.
What a way to spend Christmas, alone and miserable.
But Christmas Eve was more the thing with his family, and he had left them behind to fly up to meet Mike in Victoria, at this gorgeous little rental cottage, so they could spend Christmas day together. Except Mike had been visiting his family in New York for Hanukkah and according to the weather reports, it looked like he was stranded somewhere out there, far away from Tom.
His cell phone ringing snapped him out of his funk as soon as he looked at who the caller was. "Hi," he said, wanting to sound festive and failing miserably.
"I miss you so goddamn much, you don't even know," Mike said, sounding just as lonely as he felt.
"I know."
"Why is it so quiet there?"
"There's no you."
"You saying I'm noisy?"
"Er... I'm sorry - have you met you?"
Mike chuckled, sighing into the phone. "Hey, handsome. What are you wearing?"
"Idiot." Tom laughed, affection bubbling in his chest.
"Dude," Mike said, "why is it so quiet there? Where's all that Christmas music you love so much? Did you get dinner?"
"Yeah, I got dinner," Tom lied, and then feeling bad, crossed his fingers. "And I didn't feel like music. I was just gonna turn in."
"Uh huh." Didn't buy the lie, Tom thought.
"Where are you?"
"Got stranded in Denver."
"Think you'll get here by tomorrow?"
"I don't know. The weather's for shit."
"Well, if it was safe they would fly, so I don't care about Christmas. I just want you safe."
Mike smiled, Tom could feel it in his words. "I'm safe."
"I miss you."
"Me too."
"I love you."
"Me too."
Tom felt stupid, hopeless tears prick at his eyes. "Just call me when you get here, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm going to bed."
"G'night, Tommy."
"G'night, Mikey."
Tom hung up the phone and dragged his ass to the bedroom. He was hungry but he didn't feel like eating, even with a fridge full of food. Instead, he turned down the covers and climbed into bed, jumping when the phone he was just placing on the bedside table started ringing again.
"Mike?"
"Seriously... what are you wearing?"
Tom burst out laughing, missing Mike fiercely, his heart constricting in his chest. "You're incorrigible."
"I just wanted to hear your voice again."
"You just heard it not five minutes ago."
"You heard me say again, right?"
"Mike, hang up and try and get some sleep."
"So, just to clarify," Mike asked, "that's a no on the phone sex?"
"Goodnight, Michael."
"Are you getting pissy, Tommy? You know how hot that gets me."
"Micheal."
"Thomas."
"Moron."
"Love you, too. G'night."
Tom hung up with a smile, putting the down and snuggling under the sheets, feeling more than a little well-loved. Also, he was so not surprised when his phone rang about a minute later.
"A Jays tee, with your name and number on the back, and a pair of sweats," he laughed into the phone.
"Damn, that's sexy," Mike chuckled. "Now come open the door for me, I'm here."
Tom sat up in surprise. "What?"
"You said to call you when I get there... er, here. So I'm calling. I'm here. Come and get me, gorgeous." Tom got tangled up in the covers and almost fell on his face in his haste to get to the front door. He yanked it open, his mouth gaping like a fish to see Mike lounging against the porch railing, a bucket of fried chicken in his hands. "I come bearing gifts."
Tom reached out and wrapped him up in his arms, his warm mouth settling over Mike's cold one in a passionate kiss that was the closest thing to perfection Tom had ever felt. Those stupid tears were threatening again, so he sniffed and blinked and swallowed to cover it up. "You made it."
"Safe and sound," Mike whispered, the chicken forgotten, cold hands instead cradling Tom's face like he was the most precious thing in the world, and yeah, he didn't stand a chance. The tears formed and then fell down his cheeks and Mike was never going to let him hear the end of it.
So Tom went on the offense and preemptively pulled him inside - and grabbed the chicken, because he was still hungry for food too - and then shut him up.
It was the best Christmas of his recollection, Tom mused just minutes later as Mike fell to his knees and sucked lazily on his cock, and Michael Rosenbaum was the gift that kept on giving.
|*|*|*|
In San Antonio, Texas
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby, all I want for Christmas is... you
Jared hauled Jensen's sex-sated body up close and personal as he rested against the bed head, only now catching his breath. Jensen snuggled into the vee of Jared's legs, his naked, sweaty back slick against Jared's chest, his head lolled back against Jared's shoulder.
"Merry Christmas, baby," Jared chuckled, nipping at and then sucking on his husband's earlobe.
"Mmm, it was," Jensen agreed sleepily. "Our first together. As a family. Of two."
"I know, right? Our little family of two," Jared tried not to sigh too sappily, but he figured Jensen of all people was used to him being sappy. "Not gonna lie, Jen, I was pretty excited about that."
"You don't say," Jensen teased, knowing full well that Jared hadn't been able to sit still all week, forget about all day.
"It was good, right?" Jared asked again, wanting to make sure. It had to suck that Jensen's mom and sister couldn't celebrate with them, but they were driving up tomorrow, so he supposed that had to be good enough.
"Jared," Jensen tilted his head up to look at him, "it was perfect. I love your family just as much as mine, and yeah sure, I missed Kenzie and my Momma but we spoke to them earlier. I'm good. You take very good care of me."
"I do, don't I?"
"It's 'cause I'm adorable."
Jared grinned, his hand moving until it rested over Jensen's heart. "You are."
"Sexy, too."
"Damn straight."
"And you love me."
"No argument there, sweetpea." Jensen huffed indignantly and Jared chuckled. "Huff and puff all you want, angel, I'ma call you what I want."
Jensen looked at him again. Stared at him actually, in total silence, his face carefully devoid of expression and that was a little freaky. "Open that bedside drawer."
"Huh?" Jared asked lamely. Jensen just rolled his eyes and moved to do it himself, handing Jared a couple of brochures.
Jared looked them over. "Tahiti?"
"We never had a honeymoon."
Jared's heart thudded in his chest as he looked at the pamphlet in his hands. "We're going to Tahiti."
"Merry Christmas, sunshine," Jensen smirked, pursing his lips at Jared until Jared grinned, kissing him. "Mmm. Love the way you kiss me."
Jared nuzzled his husband, feeling his dick twitch with interest when Jensen nuzzled him back.
"Seriously?" Jensen's wide-eyed gaze collided with his. "Again?"
"Soon."
Jensen lifted the blankets and eyeballed his own dick. "Dude, you're gonna give me a complex with a rebound like that."
"Suck it up, old man." Jared snorted with laughter when Jensen shot him a filthy smile that promised dirty, dirty things.
"I'll show you old man," Jensen vowed, turning until he was on all fours, the blankets tented around his body. Jared psyched himself to have both his dick and his mind blown. Still, he couldn’t resist throwing down a challenge.
"Have at it, cowboy. Hit me with your best shot."
"Be my pleasure, darlin'," Jensen teased, mischief glinting in those gorgeous green eyes. And of course, Jensen being Jensen, he rose to the challenge with a teasing quirk of his made-for-sin mouth. "Now, hand me that candycane lube."
|*|*|*|
HAPPY HOLIDAYS Y'ALL!!!
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’
Word Count: 7,500
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos. This is for fun, not profit.
Summary: Sometimes you want something with all your heart and you’re lucky enough and blessed enough that all your Christmas wishes come true. But it all comes down to whether you’ve been naughty or nice and while sometimes not-so-nice things happen to all-too-nice people, if you’ve been a dick for most of the year, Santa’s gonna return the favor.
A/N: This wasn’t part of the story in my head originally, but I was working on my J2 version of the Mighty Ducks and writing some holiday scenes for it and I missed my baseball boys, so I thought - why not? Plus, there’s only a few more chapters of this ‘verse planned and I really don’t wanna let my boys go, so this is an extra treat for all of us. I hope it’s sweet and satisfying. The lyrics and title are from Mariah Carey's All I want for Christmas is you. Enjoy!
Comments = Love!
Master Post
TWENTY-TWO
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU
In Buffalo, New York
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
"Chad!"
Chad almost fell off his chair in shock. "Fuck, dad!" He exclaimed as the wooden chair teetered precariously, with him still on it. He glared at his father, who was practically howling with laughter. That was some awesome parenting right there. "You scared the shit outta me. I coulda died."
"Only the good die young, kiddo, so you're still gonna be around when you're a hundred." Rex Murray chuckled, walking over and thumping him on the thigh, almost sending him off-balance again. "You get it open yet?"
"No," Chad grumbled, trying again to unscrew the air vent cover up on the living room wall in his dad’s house. "I'm still not clear on why we have to get this thing off. You've worn out the screws here."
"Yeah. The old eyes aren't what they used to be. 'Sides, I need to get what I hid back there."
Chad looked down at his dad and tried not to roll his eyes. "I don't see why you gotta hide my Christmas present when I don't even live here anymore."
"Did you or did you not go through my stuff looking for your present?" And yeah, okay daddy dearest had a point. He grinned unrepentently as his father shook his head, a fond look in his eyes. "I raised you, punk. I know all."
"Yeah, yeah," Chad sniggered, actually applying himself to the task at hand now that he knew his dad's little cubby hole held his Christmas present. "Got it!"
Chad pulled out the tin canister duct-taped to the inside of the vent. It was a coin bank in the shape of a can of tomato soup with Chaddie written on a piece of duct tape on the side. He hopped down off the chair, shaking the can, because that's what you did with Christmas presents, but it only made a quiet rustling sound.
"Pretty good, huh?" His father asked, looking at the little contraption in his hand with pride. "See - I put it there so that with the vent cover screwed on, I could slide stuff right into the slot and I wouldn't be tempted to actually take the thing off and open it." The older man rocked back and forth on his heels, beaming up at Chad. "Whatever's in it is yours, brat."
Chad blinked rapidly. It didn't help. Shit. He tried to speak but no words came out and instead his lower lip wobbled and his eyes teared up and then he turned into a big, fucking chick.
He hugged his father, sniffling into the man's shoulder like the pussy he apparently was; seriously, any minute now, his dick was gonna fall off. "Thanks, Pop."
"What do get you the kid who can get himself anything he wants? Go on, open it," his father said gruffly, sounding like he was sniffling a bit too. And goddamn, that's likely where he got it from.
"Okay, okay," Chad mumbled, reaching into his jeans pocket and handing his dad an envelope. "You open this," he said as he made his way into the kitchen to find the can opener.
"Holy shit," his father exclaimed once he had the can opened, and had traipsed back into the living room. "Two tickets to Maui?"
"Yup," Chad grinned, and his father's happy smile made him feel blubbery on the inside again. Fuckin' holidays. He looked at the bundle of money in his hands. He hadn't counted it yet but it looked like just under a grand from all the rolled up notes in the can.
"Who am I gonna go with?" His old man asked, looking just a little bit hopeful and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at Chad.
"Well, you could ask Uncle Gus, or one of your lady friends..." Chad paused for effect and ignored the pang he felt when his father's face fell a little. "Then again, I've got nothing going on and some old dude just gave me all this free cash so..."
His father's grin lit up the whole damn room and that said a lot, 'cause he was competing with the Christmas tree. "These valid anytime?"
"Just say the word, Pop."
"I've got a couple of weeks vacation still, we can go as early as January."
"Awesome," Chad smirked, "look out Hawaii - here come the Murray men." He slung an arm around his dad's shoulders and pulled him close. "Don't go mackin' on my hook-ups, 'kay Pops?"
His father reached out and pinched him on the ass and Chad yelped, pouting. "Who do you think taught you those tricks, punk? You're the one who's gonna have to up your game!" He smiled as he placed the airplane tickets on the mantle, giving them a little pat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. "Food's here."
"Finally," Chad said. "I'm starving, man." He went to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and cutlery and bring them to the small dining table at the other end of the living room.
All this money, and his dad had still not wanted to move out of this old house or this boring city. Jeez, who the hell chose to live in Buffalo? But his father liked it, liked the old neighborhood, and he had his friends and his work and this life was so used to, so who was Chad to find fault with that? His Pop had roots; Chad was a nomad. To each his own, he thought.
In a few seconds, the scent of fresh pizza assailed his senses and Chad breathed in the aroma, his stomach rumbling. So they didn't do the traditional Christmas deal, but neither he nor his dad could cook for shit and they both liked pizza, so problem solved.
He was back in the kitchen grabbing some ice-cold brewskis from the fridge when his dad met him in the doorway with a pan in his arms that looked like it held an aluminum-foil covered... turkey? "Since when does Pizza Hut deliver turkeys?"
"There's this really pushy dame at the door who says she knows you," his father told him, looking perplexed and a little... well, afraid. "First, she ripped me a new one for getting pizza for Christmas dinner, then she yelled at the delivery guy for not being home with his family on this fine night, and then she shoved this turkey in my hands before she took off." His father walked right by him and balancing the turkey, somehow managed to get the oven open and put it in. Then he turned the thing on, Chad watching in bemusement.
"What are you doing?"
"She said warm it," his father explained, "so I'm warming it. You know some weird people."
"Dad! I don't know any turkey-wielding women!"
"Jesus, what if it's a bomb?"
"A bomb in a turkey?"
"How many women have you pissed off this season?"
Chad smirked. "Plenty."
His father rolled his eyes. "Lemme give you some advice, son: pissed off women do crazy shit."
"Yeah, like gay-marrying obliviously in love baseball players," Chad muttered to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing," Chad grinned, and they both turned when the doorbell rang again.
"You get it this time," his father urged.
"Way to man up, Pop," he said, taking a deep breath and going to the door, his father on his heels.
"I got your back, son."
"Gee, thanks, dad," Chad chuckled, carefully opening the front door, only to be engulfed in a cinnamon spice scented hug before he could identify the mystery woman.
"Merry Christmas, baby!" The woman's muffled voice said into his neck, and Chad felt the tension drain out of him, a big, dopey grin splitting his face as he hugged her back, lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm.
"Georgie!"
"So you do know her," his father said from behind him as Chad gave her another squeeze before letting go.
"Yeah." Chad pulled back to make introductions as the lovely lady unravelled her scarf and took off her gloves. "Dad, Georgiana Collins. Georgie, my dad, Rex. Georgie is Misha's mom."
"Oh!" His father managed to say before he too was hugged to within an inch of his life. He looked at Chad quizzically over Georgie's shoulder. Chad shrugged, looked out at the empty walkway, way more interested in where his missing Misha was.
"He's parking the car up the street that way," Georgie told him, "and there's more food in it, so why don't you go give him a hand, Chad?"
"Yes, ma'am," Chad grinned, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door as Georgie turned to address his still somewhat stunned father.
"Grab those dishes on the front porch, will you, Rex? That's the roasted vegetables; I hope you boys like yams. Did you put the turkey in the oven to warm up yet? Oh, come along, Rex, chop, chop..."
Chad laughed, closing the door behind him, only a little sorry to leave his father behind undefended, but Misha was somewhere out there and he needed to see him. Needed. Yeah. Who woulda guessed?
The slamming of a car door caught his attention, and suddenly Chad was jogging along the icy sidewalk, making a beeline towards the man in the camel coat.
"It's the fuckin' ice age out here, Mayhem," Misha glared at him when Chad ran up, a great big frown on his face. "I'm freezing my goddamn balls off; I hope you're happy."
"I can warm them up for you," Chad magnanimously offered. "They're pretty cute, wouldn't want them to come to any harm."
"I hate you," Misha declared, shoving a couple of foil-covered pie dishes into his arms. "And I hate Buffalo."
"Okay," Chad nodded, trying to commiserate but sounding - and looking, he was sure - way too gleeful. "Er... but it begs the question: if you hate me and Buffalo so much, why are you here?"
"You bewitched my mother," Misha growled at him, "and it had better not have been with sex, dude, because I will kill you."
"For the final goddamn time, man - she's your mother. Off limits."
"Yeah?"
"I solemnly swear I have never put the moves on your mom."
"That really means nothing coming from you, douchebag."
Chad sighed. Okay, that had been a lie. "All right. Except for that first time you introduced us. But - she totally blew me off and I have never tried again!"
Misha whirled on him like a fury, and Chad backtracked in a hurry, stopped only by Misha's car at his back. "She blew you?"
"Off!" Chad shouted, holding the pies to his chest like a shield. "She blew me off as in shot me down! Jesus."
"Oh."
"Jesus," Chad declared again, more than a little thankfully.
"Huh." Misha regarded him in silence, his bright blue eyes roving all over Chad's face like Misha had forgotten what he looked like, but that didn't make sense because one, Chad was unforgettable, and two, they had only parted ways a month ago. "Fine. Let's go get this shit over with."
"Wait," Chad called out, putting his pies on the top of the car and relieving Misha of his dishes as well.
"God, now what?" Misha's eyes widened as Chad yanked him close, a tight grip on the lapels of his coat.
"Missed you," Chad whispered when their faces were inches apart, their breaths misting in the cold night air.
"I'm very miss-able," Misha said just as quietly. "You, on the other hand..."
"The first baseman doth protest too much, methinks," Chad murmured almost against his lips as Misha looked at him in shock. Chad stroked his thumb along the cool skin of Misha's jaw, smirking a little as the look on the other man's face morphed into something else, something softer, something more - grudgingly - affectionate. Then Misha moved a tiny little bit, just enough to place a light kiss on the pad of Chad's thumb and the sweetness of that gesture made him feel ridiculously warm despite the cold outside. "I'm happy you're here..."
"Yeah, yeah," Misha groused. "Now shut up and kiss me so we can go eat."
|*|*|*|
In Eastport, Maine
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
David reluctantly turned away from the window and looked back at his family gathering around the dinner table. Everyone had showed up in Eastport this year, not just his older sister and her family, but also his parents, and his grandparents, and every child that had sprung forth from their collective loins.
It was all a little much.
He grabbed his jacket from the closet beside the door and headed out, heedless of the cold. He walked to the same spot where he had stood a few weeks ago and had callously broken John's heart; he had been coming to this spot every day, like a damn bad habit he couldn't break, like some debilitating self-inflicted punishment where all the pain he felt was buried deep, hidden from prying eyes.
He blew on his hands, and then patted his jacket pockets in search for a pair of gloves. He didn't find any, and he supposed he deserved frozen fingers; maybe they would fall off from frostbite and then he'd have the best excuse in the world not to show up in Dunedin in the spring.
He had no idea how he was going to do this; no idea if he was strong enough or brave enough to go through another year of looking and not touching John.
Sonofabitch.
This was not supposed to happen to him. He had spent a lifetime avoiding just such a situation - his career had always, always, been more important to him than love - and yet he falls for the charms of a boy? This young kid, wet behind the ears, barely out of school... a goddamn baby? What the hell did that say about him? He was pushing forty for chrissake, and the kid was barely legal and his fucked up mind had to go and form an attachment and fucking imprint on this... child?
Jesus.
He had had no other choice, right? He had done what he had to do. John had his whole life ahead of him, and a stellar career if he kept his shit up and took care of his throwing arm, and David had taught him some of those moves he knew so well and he was so proud of the kid's progress and his accomplishments, so proud to have played alongside him, and it ate him up inside that he could never voice that. Not ever.
No, instead of being like a proud father, he had to go and lust after the kid, like some dirty old man instead. And he couldn't live with himself if he gave into temptation, and even if John was more than willing to go there, David wasn't about to be the one to sully him, to muck up that angelic exterior, to ruin him.
To hurt him.
Except... he had hurt him, and hurt himself in the process, and this is why he didn't do relationships; this is why he stayed away from love and all the commitments that came with it.
"Dave?" He turned to see Harmon call out to him from the front yard. "Dinner's waiting on you."
"Be right there," David yelled back, taking one last look at the starry night sky reflected in the dark water.
He had done the right thing pushing John away, and some day - soon, he hoped - he would believe that himself.
It's just that today was not that day.
|*|*|*|
In Eden, Idaho
I won't ask for much this Christmas
I don't even wish for snow
I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
Cory let the noise and laughter of his family and friends and neighbors wash over him, the converted barn teeming with people at their annual Christmas dinner. There were red-checkered tables all around them, brimming with food, Christmas music blaring from the speakers and everywhere he looked everyone was smiling.
He was smiling too, but it was mostly for show, although no one really noticed the difference, not even him, but he was well on his way to drunk, so... yeah.
He sipped his liberally spiked cider and resolutely did not think of Mark Salling and his goddamn pierced nipple that had felt so good in his mouth. And jeez, why did he suddenly have to think of that in the first place?
He shook his head to clear the fog surrounding it. No thinking about baseball or ball players. That was the deal and he was sticking to it. Sure, it had been hard - God, so hard - but he and his right hand were getting real good at taking care of that not-so-little problem. He just hoped he wouldn't get carpal tunnel or anything; he needed his wrist in good shape, especially in his pitching arm, although on the upside, the muscles in his right forearm had never looked better.
Jesus, this was so not working.
"Cory."
He jumped a little when his mother suddenly appeared in front of him. "Hey, mom."
"I haven't seen you mingling."
"I'm working up to it."
"Cory." She packed a lot of disappointment into that one word. Join the club, he thought, he was disappointed too. His mother huffed and gave him a little push. "The girls are waiting on you, go talk to them!" Cory looked at the girls in question, walking in their direction and smiling hesitantly.
His mother had outdone herself with her matchmaking this year, finding him not one, but two different girls to keep him company, Dianna Agron and Lea Michele. They were like polar opposites of each other; one blonde and the other brunette, one soft-spoken while the other was fiery, but both of them beautiful and sweet and sexy in their own right.
His mom sure covered all her bases, but she was still batting zero.
That is until he stepped under the mistletoe and got the shit kissed out of him by first Lea and then, not ten minutes later, by Dianna, and hot damn. Now this was more like it. Merry Christmas to him.
And Mark, who?
|*|*|*|
In Wheeling, Illinois
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeers click
"John?"
"I'm fine, Mom," John sighed, blinking at his mother's silhouette in the darkened doorway of his room.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I promise," he assured her, trying to sound sincere even though he knew she could hear the lie in his voice.
"Okay," his mother whispered softly, "if you're sure..."
"I'm just tired, I'll be better tomorrow."
"I'm sorry, honey. Your dad will come around, you'll see."
"Sure," he said, trying to sound confident, and when she sighed, John knew she was going to let it drop... for tonight, at least. "G'night, mom."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she said and hesitating just a moment longer, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.
The quiet rustle of sheets broke the ensuing silence as he turned in bed, staring at the wall and the empty rectangular spot there, right in between two posters, one of Mariano Rivera and the other of Trevor Hoffman, two of the greatest closers of all time.
The empty spot had belonged to John's personal favorite. His idol. His role model. The man he had been stupid enough to fall in love with. The man who had ripped out his heart and hacked it to pieces before giving the tattered shreds back to John.
Well, that's what it had felt like anyway.
And now he was supposed to go back to the Jays and spring training camp and be like everything was okay? Like he had gotten over it, moved on, dusted himself off, and was rearin' to go again?
He felt... bruised. Damaged. Shattered.
He wondered if this was a rite of passage into adulthood that he had somehow skipped before; all part and parcel of becoming a man.
A gay man, a little voice in his head corrected.
Yeah, that too. Twenty-four years old and finally out to his parents. And the result: his mom had been shocked into silence while his dad had flown into a rage.
But at least it was done, and it was a load off, and even though his father hadn't really spoken to him in the month since he had sat them both down for The Talk, he had thawed just enough to wish John for Christmas. It was the season for miracles, John supposed, and even if his father could barely stand to look at him, and his mother was still awkward around him, and David had broken him, John felt... okay, he felt like shit warmed over, and uncomfortable and unhappy in his own home.
And what was that about being a man now? He was an adult. Why the hell was he doing this to himself? He had his own place, and good friends who accepted him just the way he was. It was only logical that eventually he would find someone who loved him too, right? He'd just stay out of David's way until then, because just the thought of seeing him again made his insides twist painfully. And if, like David had said, the older man didn't make the active roster, then all the better for John.
Ignoring the little voice in his head calling him a liar, he threw the sheets off himself and grabbed his laptop, powering it on while he dragged out his suitcase and packed up some of his clothes. Going online, he found the earliest flight back to Toronto and booked himself on it, zipping up his bag with a satisfied sigh before slipping into bed again. He'd done the family Christmas thing and it had nearly killed him; he was determined to do New Year's differently.
It was a new beginning after all, time to man up and move on.
|*|*|*|
In Hoboken, New Jersey
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you
Mark belly-flopped onto his bed and smashed his face into the pillows. He hadn't had much more to drink than the egg nog his Uncle Manny had made but then again Uncle Manny was known for spiking his 'nog to the nines.
He flipped onto his back and scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling until his body was beneath the covers. He was freakin' stuffed; it had been a good family dinner. No fights had broken out this year, and yeah sure, insults had been hurled across the dinner table and there had been a whole heckuva lotta yelling, but no one had been injured, maimed or killed, so Mark figured he could call it a win for the Sallings and their extended family.
Man, nothing beat a good ol' fashioned Jersey Christmas.
Sighing, he grabbed his phone from beside the bed and flicked through his text messages. A few of the guys on the team had wished him, and there was a missed call from David, but nothing from... the general direction of Idaho.
Whatever.
It's not like Mark missed him, or thought about him much. He had his off-season life, his car, his friends, his family, and hot girls and guys just there for the taking.
Only... he wasn't taking. Shit. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone this long without hooking up; it sucked balls.
He looked at the empty pillow on the bed next to him, and not for the first time wondered how nice it would be to have someone there. Wait, nice? Jesus. His mind's eye conjured up an image of Montieth and he huffed out a breath, staring at the ceiling instead. Why the fuck wasn't he over this yet?
Okay, so he had been thinking of Cory Montieth. Like a lot. Okay, like all the time. The urge to figure out what the hell had sent the giant dork running away from him was crazy strong but he was resisting it. So far. Yeah. Could he get any more pathetic? Not likely. Or very possibly. Whatever.
Just last week he had been surfing the net and he had suddenly found himself looking at fights to Boise. What the fuck, right? His mind was apparently on a mission his body was not aware of, when usually they were pretty much in synch. And that was the kicker: Montieth had him all tied up in knots over this.
Maybe it was because he had essentially dumped him.
But didn't you have to be dating before you got dumped? There had been no dating with them; they had gone straight to fucking. There was also the little matter of Cory not liking Mark and Mark not liking Cory. At all, outside of bed, that is. Cory's body, sure. All that farm-fresh upbringing had done that boy's body good. Jesus. Real good, he thought, shifting a little under the sheets as his dick hardened.
Oh, sure - now show interest, why dontcha? His dick was on a whole other wavelength from the rest of him, one that seemed to be tuned into some channel out in Idaho. It hadn't so much as twitched when his cousin's girlfriend had been rubbing up on him earlier at the dinner table, her tits squashed into his bicep, but now, one wayward thought about Cory's body and it was all systems go? Fuck this shit.
He licked a broad stripe up his palm and shoved it beneath the covers and into his boxers, grabbing his cock, giving it a friendly squeeze and before tugging it in earnest, his thumb working the head so the moisture there eased his way. Eyes shut, he brought up a mental image of that chick at dinner. Mmm. Yeah. She had really nice tits, and a tight body. He'd have tapped that last Christmas. This Christmas, not so much. He was too distracted by a hard, very male body. Acres of smooth skin, toned pecs, muscled abs, and a dick that rivaled Jensen's, it was so pretty.
His mouth dropped opened on a gasp as he flicked his finger through his slit, rubbing along it, his nerves sparking and his muscles tensing with pleasure. He imagined that dick in his mouth, fucking deep, just the way Cory liked to do it, grabbing the back of his head hard, like he was punishing Mark - as if, right? If that was punishment, then Mark was a glutton for it - up until Mark's tongue in his slit made Cory flail like he couldn't get enough, like he was coming apart at the seams.
His other hand ventured under the covers, cupping his balls, rolling them, his breath stuttering in his chest. He sped up his hand, and slicking a finger, he trailed his left hand away from his balls, one finger teasing his hole, just the way Cory did it, pushing it slowly inside.
In his mind's eye, he saw Cory's big body above him, hard dick leaking and glistening with lube, slowly shoving into him, inexorably finding that spot Mark's finger was now glancing over, pressing against, rubbing up on until all Mark could feel was Cory, and all he could see was Cory, and all he wanted was Cory, and then he was coming, hard as usual, feeling a little lost when it was all over.
Goddammit.
He would pay good money to try and figure his way out of this hold Montieth had on him.
Grabbing a few tissues from his bedside, he cleaned off his hands and grabbed his phone again, this time scrolling through his emails, frowning when he saw one from Eric Kripke. He read it - twice - and then grinned. Oh yeah. Here was the way to chase away his blues.
Winter ball in Hawaii? He was so there; plus, Hawaiian dudes were way hotter than farmboys from Idaho. Bonus.
|*|*|*|
In Toronto, Ontario
All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
"Aldis, did you get the wine?" Beth asked as she walked out of the kitchen, one of Benji's little Bratts hitched up on her hip. Aldis grinned at the picture she made, reaching out to flick her bangs before tickling the little one in her arms.
"It's on the table already," he told her, bending down for a quick kiss.
"Great," Beth smiled, looking over her shoulder and into the kitchen. "Michaela, I think we're a go for the bird."
"One big bird coming right up," Michaela called out.
"Big Bird?"
"No, pumpkin," Benjamin chuckled as he took his daughter from Beth, quickly reassuring her, "Aunt Michaela did not cook Big Bird. It's just a big ol' yummy turkey."
"Is it that time, people?" Pej asked, rubbing his hands and surveying the table with glee. His wife came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his body, playfully holding him back.
"Easy, tiger," she laughed.
"Yeah, we've only got so much food," TJ teased, before hurrying to help his wife bring the turkey out.
"Dude, you should know better," Adam chuckled, patting Pej in the gut, "some of us are still growing boys."
"Shut up, loser," Pej warned playfully, winking at Adam's wife, "this is a six pack, right here."
"Yeah, a six pack of Twinkies," Benjamin laughed, reaching out to high-five Adam.
"Man, I could really go for a Twinkie right now," Aldis mused out loud, and the sentiment was echoed by the various assorted Beach, Bratt and Vahdat kids running around the room; thankfully the new addition to the Thyne family stayed asleep. It didn't stop him from earning a glare from the cook, though.
"Sorry, Michaela," he grinned. "Food first, kids, then dessert."
"Yay, Twinkies!" Came the victorious cry and if looks could kill, Michaela would have flayed him by now.
He pulled his wife in front of his body like a shield. "It's your job to protect me," he told her, nuzzling his face into the soft blonde hair at the nape of her neck, and damn, she smelled sweet, like gingerbread cookies.
"Was that in the job description?"
"Pretty sure it was, for better or worse, remember?"
Beth grinned at him over her shoulder, both of them a little oblivious to the chaos of the excited kids - both young and old - around them. "Which one would this be?"
Aldis couldn't help himself. He kissed her, long and deep and heartfelt. "Everything's better with you, babe."
|*|*|*|
In Green Tree, Pennsylvania
And everyone is singing
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need
Won't you please bring my baby to me...
It took what seemed like forever to make all the introductions but finally every Pine knew every Quinto in the room, not that there were so many of them, but they were all a very talkative bunch.
"So," Zach's brother Joe waggled his eyes at Chris as they dug into their dinner, "you guys gonna come out or keep this on the down low?"
"The MLB is funny," Chris' sister Katie ventured, thoughtfully nibbling on a green bean before continuing, "you guys should keep it under wraps."
"Well, we're not about to go shout out our big, gay love from the Rogers Centre rooftop," Zach told her, "but I don't really dig the idea of sneaking around like we're ashamed or something."
"Ashamed is the last thing we are," Chris agreed, squeezing Zach's hand where it rested in his on the tabletop.
"It's nobody's business but yours," Margo Quinto told them.
Gywnne Pine added her two cents. "And really, why is it such a concern in this day and age?"
"Honey, you don't know professional sports," Robert Pine told his wife, "it's a tough business and there a way too many small minded people in this world still."
"We're not worried," Chris assured them, then stopped and looked at Zach. "Are we worried?"
"We're not worried," Zach smiled, raising Chris' hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. Chris might have blushed. Only a little, though; he was sure it would be barely noticeable in the candlelight.
"You two are sickeningly cute," Katie smirked.
Joe snorted. "More like nauseating. I'm trying to eat here." Zach grinned and kicked his brother under the table, just as his mother whacked him upside the head.
"The food is delectable, Margo," Chris laughed, trying to distract her from hitting her son again. The sentiment was echoed by everyone else at the table.
Except for Joe, who winked at his mother and declared, "Meh, I've had better."
Everyone laughed as Joe was hit by a flying fig, but then they got down to the business of eating, the conversation at the table flowing freely, along with the wine and good cheer.
And later, when dessert was done, and everyone had all gathered the fireplace, sipping peppermint tea, and singing Christmas carols while his dad strummed his guitar, Chris relaxed against the doorjamb, mellow warmth spreading through his body as he watched Zach with his family.
Joe came up to him and bumped his shoulder. "You're good for him, you know," he said, "I've never seen him this genuinely happy."
Chris smiled into his glass tea cup, that stupid blush rising in his face again, no doubt. "Thanks."
Joe nodded. "What we were talking about before... about being gay in baseball. If you had to pick between baseball and my brother...?"
"Your brother," Chris replied, without hesitation and without really thinking about it.
"Good answer," Joe grinned, patting him on the shoulder before joining the rest of the family.
The ramifications of that good answer resounded in Chris's head as he stood there, motionless and staring into space.
"Everything okay?" Zach suddenly asked from beside him, startling Chris a little. Chris stared at him and in that second, everything clicked into place. He wound his arm around Zach's slim waist and pulled him close, until their faces were a hair's breadth apart.
"I love you," he breathed.
Zach blinked; once, twice. Then he smiled. "I knew that."
Chris huffed out a little laugh. "And here I thought I was having an epiphany."
"Been there, done that," Zach teased, before closing the distance between them and kissing him, soft and tender and sweet. "I love you, too."
"You have phenomenally good taste."
"So I've been told."
"Mmmhmm," Chris hummed, nipping on Zach's lower lip. "Will you move in with me?"
"Er... we're already in the same apartment."
"Different rooms, though, and a wall between us like star-crossed lovers. Let's move out and get our own place."
"Oh," Zach considered it, his eyes never leaving Chris', "you mean, with a big master bedroom? And a king-sized bed?"
"And maybe a jaccuzzi."
"I adore jaccuzzis," Zach declared, looking a little awestruck, and more than a little tempted. "Not only are you astonishingly good-looking but you're smart too."
Chris grinned cheekily. Oh, he so had this in the bag. "So I've been told."
|*|*|*|
In Victoria, British Columbia
I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Tom sat at the kitchen table and looked around dejectedly. It was quiet. Not to mention lonely.
What a way to spend Christmas, alone and miserable.
But Christmas Eve was more the thing with his family, and he had left them behind to fly up to meet Mike in Victoria, at this gorgeous little rental cottage, so they could spend Christmas day together. Except Mike had been visiting his family in New York for Hanukkah and according to the weather reports, it looked like he was stranded somewhere out there, far away from Tom.
His cell phone ringing snapped him out of his funk as soon as he looked at who the caller was. "Hi," he said, wanting to sound festive and failing miserably.
"I miss you so goddamn much, you don't even know," Mike said, sounding just as lonely as he felt.
"I know."
"Why is it so quiet there?"
"There's no you."
"You saying I'm noisy?"
"Er... I'm sorry - have you met you?"
Mike chuckled, sighing into the phone. "Hey, handsome. What are you wearing?"
"Idiot." Tom laughed, affection bubbling in his chest.
"Dude," Mike said, "why is it so quiet there? Where's all that Christmas music you love so much? Did you get dinner?"
"Yeah, I got dinner," Tom lied, and then feeling bad, crossed his fingers. "And I didn't feel like music. I was just gonna turn in."
"Uh huh." Didn't buy the lie, Tom thought.
"Where are you?"
"Got stranded in Denver."
"Think you'll get here by tomorrow?"
"I don't know. The weather's for shit."
"Well, if it was safe they would fly, so I don't care about Christmas. I just want you safe."
Mike smiled, Tom could feel it in his words. "I'm safe."
"I miss you."
"Me too."
"I love you."
"Me too."
Tom felt stupid, hopeless tears prick at his eyes. "Just call me when you get here, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm going to bed."
"G'night, Tommy."
"G'night, Mikey."
Tom hung up the phone and dragged his ass to the bedroom. He was hungry but he didn't feel like eating, even with a fridge full of food. Instead, he turned down the covers and climbed into bed, jumping when the phone he was just placing on the bedside table started ringing again.
"Mike?"
"Seriously... what are you wearing?"
Tom burst out laughing, missing Mike fiercely, his heart constricting in his chest. "You're incorrigible."
"I just wanted to hear your voice again."
"You just heard it not five minutes ago."
"You heard me say again, right?"
"Mike, hang up and try and get some sleep."
"So, just to clarify," Mike asked, "that's a no on the phone sex?"
"Goodnight, Michael."
"Are you getting pissy, Tommy? You know how hot that gets me."
"Micheal."
"Thomas."
"Moron."
"Love you, too. G'night."
Tom hung up with a smile, putting the down and snuggling under the sheets, feeling more than a little well-loved. Also, he was so not surprised when his phone rang about a minute later.
"A Jays tee, with your name and number on the back, and a pair of sweats," he laughed into the phone.
"Damn, that's sexy," Mike chuckled. "Now come open the door for me, I'm here."
Tom sat up in surprise. "What?"
"You said to call you when I get there... er, here. So I'm calling. I'm here. Come and get me, gorgeous." Tom got tangled up in the covers and almost fell on his face in his haste to get to the front door. He yanked it open, his mouth gaping like a fish to see Mike lounging against the porch railing, a bucket of fried chicken in his hands. "I come bearing gifts."
Tom reached out and wrapped him up in his arms, his warm mouth settling over Mike's cold one in a passionate kiss that was the closest thing to perfection Tom had ever felt. Those stupid tears were threatening again, so he sniffed and blinked and swallowed to cover it up. "You made it."
"Safe and sound," Mike whispered, the chicken forgotten, cold hands instead cradling Tom's face like he was the most precious thing in the world, and yeah, he didn't stand a chance. The tears formed and then fell down his cheeks and Mike was never going to let him hear the end of it.
So Tom went on the offense and preemptively pulled him inside - and grabbed the chicken, because he was still hungry for food too - and then shut him up.
It was the best Christmas of his recollection, Tom mused just minutes later as Mike fell to his knees and sucked lazily on his cock, and Michael Rosenbaum was the gift that kept on giving.
|*|*|*|
In San Antonio, Texas
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby, all I want for Christmas is... you
Jared hauled Jensen's sex-sated body up close and personal as he rested against the bed head, only now catching his breath. Jensen snuggled into the vee of Jared's legs, his naked, sweaty back slick against Jared's chest, his head lolled back against Jared's shoulder.
"Merry Christmas, baby," Jared chuckled, nipping at and then sucking on his husband's earlobe.
"Mmm, it was," Jensen agreed sleepily. "Our first together. As a family. Of two."
"I know, right? Our little family of two," Jared tried not to sigh too sappily, but he figured Jensen of all people was used to him being sappy. "Not gonna lie, Jen, I was pretty excited about that."
"You don't say," Jensen teased, knowing full well that Jared hadn't been able to sit still all week, forget about all day.
"It was good, right?" Jared asked again, wanting to make sure. It had to suck that Jensen's mom and sister couldn't celebrate with them, but they were driving up tomorrow, so he supposed that had to be good enough.
"Jared," Jensen tilted his head up to look at him, "it was perfect. I love your family just as much as mine, and yeah sure, I missed Kenzie and my Momma but we spoke to them earlier. I'm good. You take very good care of me."
"I do, don't I?"
"It's 'cause I'm adorable."
Jared grinned, his hand moving until it rested over Jensen's heart. "You are."
"Sexy, too."
"Damn straight."
"And you love me."
"No argument there, sweetpea." Jensen huffed indignantly and Jared chuckled. "Huff and puff all you want, angel, I'ma call you what I want."
Jensen looked at him again. Stared at him actually, in total silence, his face carefully devoid of expression and that was a little freaky. "Open that bedside drawer."
"Huh?" Jared asked lamely. Jensen just rolled his eyes and moved to do it himself, handing Jared a couple of brochures.
Jared looked them over. "Tahiti?"
"We never had a honeymoon."
Jared's heart thudded in his chest as he looked at the pamphlet in his hands. "We're going to Tahiti."
"Merry Christmas, sunshine," Jensen smirked, pursing his lips at Jared until Jared grinned, kissing him. "Mmm. Love the way you kiss me."
Jared nuzzled his husband, feeling his dick twitch with interest when Jensen nuzzled him back.
"Seriously?" Jensen's wide-eyed gaze collided with his. "Again?"
"Soon."
Jensen lifted the blankets and eyeballed his own dick. "Dude, you're gonna give me a complex with a rebound like that."
"Suck it up, old man." Jared snorted with laughter when Jensen shot him a filthy smile that promised dirty, dirty things.
"I'll show you old man," Jensen vowed, turning until he was on all fours, the blankets tented around his body. Jared psyched himself to have both his dick and his mind blown. Still, he couldn’t resist throwing down a challenge.
"Have at it, cowboy. Hit me with your best shot."
"Be my pleasure, darlin'," Jensen teased, mischief glinting in those gorgeous green eyes. And of course, Jensen being Jensen, he rose to the challenge with a teasing quirk of his made-for-sin mouth. "Now, hand me that candycane lube."
|*|*|*|
HAPPY HOLIDAYS Y'ALL!!!