A/N: My entry for the 2Nd Annual Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest! I do so love these contests. This particular one is in the same A/U as my Halloween One-Shot entry (which, I am proud to say, won first place in that contest). It's not crucial to have read that one to enjoy this, though. I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful holiday season!

He had never been one for holidays mostly because he did not see much point if it was just himself to enjoy them. He also did not have any kind of tradition or fond memories surrounding them as Christine did. His first Christmases, Halloweens, New Years, etc. ad infinitum had been spent the same way nearly every other day had been spend: locked up in his room being quiet enough that his mother could be allowed that momentary bliss of forgetting his existed. He did it before that Harry Potter kid made it cool. Only a cupboard under the stairs sounded cosier than the drafty attic he had been living in. Come to think of it, his home under the Opera House seemed more like such a cupboard under the stairs; a quiet nook in which to hide from the world and sun.

'Now we light the candle!' Christine exclaimed happily, drawing him out of his dull memories of a pitiful childhood.

Erik would forever marvel at her boldness when it came to touching him. Together they held the long match stick as they lit the third of the four candles on the wreath. They were all white, hailing back to her Swedish heritage. He leaned in and kissed her dark curls as she smiled down at the flames.

'Only one more week,' she said, turning her joyful expression to him. It outshone all of the candles, in his opinion. 'What do you want for Christmas?'

He felt his face fall. 'I—uh, don't know, Christine.' He ducked his head. He knew damned well what he wanted, but he sure as Hell was not about to ask her for it. Besides, she already gave him so much. 'Your company, if you are not otherwise engaged.'

Her brows came together in that gently doting gaze. He asked for so little. 'Well, of course I'll be here! I would not miss our first Christmas as a couple! I actually already got you something.'

'Thank you, darling,' he said, leaning in to kiss her head again. He loved burying his face into her silken tresses. She giggled adorably as he hummed into her. She was perfection.

'Erik, I know you said you never really celebrated as a kid, but is this truly your first Christmas? To enjoy, I mean.'

He nodded resignedly. 'And I could not ask for better company.'

'Neither could I,' she said, grinning before claiming his lips. It was a quick kiss, but it still took his breath away.

The week had gone by quicker than he had expected, both of them working hard to get his home under the Opera to look less like a lair and more like an actual house. It really was not that bad, but he found that with her there, it was infused with a life he had always failed to replicate properly. There was a modest tree in one corner, decorated with her own ornaments. Some had been made when she was just a child, bringing a smile to his face, others before she was born and passed down to her from her father, others she had made just this year.

'My tree is generally much smaller, but your house is bigger than my apartment, so we have more space to cover,' she has explained, sewing and showing him how to construct the little straw animals and fleece gnomes. He even pitched in with his carving skills, whittling some animals for her, stashing a few in the stocking she had hung over his fireplace. She enjoyed them and so did he. He even proudly lit the battery powered candles that they clipped to the tree. She had asked for actual candles, but his fear of fire was too strong. She was happy with the exchange.

He even put up with the evergreen smell that flooded his home and would likely remain all year from the innumerable garlands she had put up. Every doorway, the tops of his bookcases, even a small arrangement of poinsettias decorated his baby grand piano. He was simply glad she was not one of those people who went crazy with glitter. That would surely never leave him.

He sat in his chair by the fireplace, trying to read, but in truth watching the way her hands worked at the scarf she was knitting for the Daroga. She had insisted the Iranian be included in their festivities a bit, even though he did not celebrate. The poor man was likely bundled up by his own fireplace, cursing the cold weather. He was not a fan of winters in Paris.

Erik smiled, thinking of his friend's mild discomfort at a time he was quickly beginning to relish.

'Erik,' her voice, as always, drew him from his thoughts. 'I never thought to ask; are you Christian?'

'No. Why do you ask, my dear?' he asked, putting the book down.

'It's just that you never mention religion.'

'That is mostly because I am not religious. I am what I call a "recovering Catholic".'

'Oh.' She looked down at her somewhat neglected project. 'Does it bother you that I was raised Catholic?'

'Not at all.' He paused, waiting for her to speak again. 'Does it bother you that I am not?'

'No! No, not at all,' she hurriedly assured. 'I'm just sorry if I went a little overboard with the Christmas decorations and such.'

He smiled softly at her, putting aside his book to come sit next to her on the couch. 'I have loved every minute of this, Christine.' He leaned over to kiss her cheek, hiding his thrill at being allowed this act. 'You have helped to make this season bright.'

She beamed up at him. 'Thank you. You've made this holiday special too. It's been so long since I've had a proper Christmas. Papa and I did not have much when I was growing up, but we had a couple years where we could truly celebrate it.'

'And I have never had one. Looks like we have a perfect excuse to go all out.' He grinned at her smirk. She had dragged him all over town collecting these decorations and supplies for them to make even more. She had insisted on crafting as many as possible, teaching him old techniques he swore to remember forever.

He held her yarn for her as she finished the scarf, then held the tape for her when she wrapped it in its colourful box.

'I wonder if we could deliver this tonight?' she asked, looking up at the clock. It was already half-past eleven.

'I'm sure we could make it,' Erik replied, not even considering the time. He enjoyed pestering his friend, so the inconvenience of a late night present did not matter to him.

He made sure his angel was well bundled up before they adventured into the snowy evening. The walk would not be far, but he still offered to hail a cab, not wanting her to get a cold. She turned him down.

'Are you sure?' he pressed.

'Yes, Erik, now let's go!' she told him for the seemingly hundredth time, pulling his hand as she hurried down the sidewalk.

They made it to the Iranian's door when Christine stopped. 'We should pretend to be carollers,' she whispered.

Erik smiled even more. 'But do we stay in key?'

She swatted his arm at this. 'Don't be cruel. Besides, if he throws something at us for being so terrible, I'm hiding behind you.'

He smirked, enjoying their play. 'Very well. Which song do you want to sing?'

'Silent Night is traditional.'

'My German is better than yours,' he remarked plainly, to which she stuck her tongue out at him. 'But you can sing the French, if you like.'

'Fair enough.'

They sang, making Erik's heart hum with joy. He adored when their voices were paired together, making a perfect harmony without even trying. She was his match, plain and simple. He thought idly that they were likely the best sounding carollers in the entirety of Paris.

It did not take long for the door to swing open and reveal their friend. He seemed only mildly surprised to see them, having guessed that such wonderful singers as these could only be two specific people. He greeted them happily, inviting them in. Christine, oddly enough, insisted that they could not stay long, only wanting to see him open his present.

'But I got nothing for you,' he protested, taking the gift with modest disbelief.

'I didn't expect you to,' she replied with a glowing smile. Erik could not help beaming at his generous and selfless Christine.

The Daroga was very happy to receive his scarf, earning him a hug from Christine and a warning glint in the eyes of her masked partner. 'I shall wear it all this winter. Thank you, Christine.'

She could not have grinned wider. Saying their good nights, they left, walking at a similarly quick pace back towards the Rue Scribe entrance to Erik's home. He happily guided them down, his arm linked with hers and walking at a stately pace. She clung a little closer, remembering well the incident from Halloween and not wanting to be separated from her beloved. A shiver ran up her spine at the thought, making her snuggle in more to his side. Knowing her thoughts as his own mind replayed the experience, he put his arm around her to keep her to him. He would be damned before he let her go too far astray in his labyrinth.

'Darling,' he said, not too far from his house by the lake. 'I have been thinking about possibly buying a house just outside the city.'

Christine's excitement had grown when he mentioned a move, but quickly fell when she heard where it would be. She only lived a few blocks away from the Opéra, meaning it would become difficult to see him.

'What do you think?' he continued, being able to see her face plainly in the limited light of the lantern he bore. It was a skill of his, to be able to see well in the dark, and he often utilised it to cast subtle glances at Christine. He could therefore tell that she was not pleased entirely by the idea, but she put on a strong front for him. He loved her so.

'It's up to you,' she finally shrugged.

He nodded, wondering how far she would let this go. 'I might be able to start up my old business of designing architecture. I could work from home, then. Maybe even try to sell some of my compositions.'

She held his waist a little tighter and nodded against his jacket.

'Of course, that may even require me to travel. I would often go to the sites of the buildings I would be designing so that I could get a proper understanding of the land. Pictures don't always do it justice, you know.' He cast another glance down at her only to see that her face was lowered and obscured by his jacket. 'What's wrong, Christine?' he asked, coming to a stop.

He heard the distinct noise of a poorly concealed sniffle. 'Nothing. I'm fine.' That rounder, more unevenly pitched tone gave him his true answer. She was crying.

Holding her out in front of him, he smiled down at her. 'Christine,' he practically cooed, running a hand through her mess of curls. 'Please tell me the truth. You know I hate it when you lie.'

'I'm selfish,' she muttered.

'How so?'

'Because I don't want you to leave the city. I want you to stay here, where I can come see you whenever I like. I'm spoiled because you are always down here when I come. You are always so happy to see me. I'm selfish because I don't want you to move somewhere without me.'

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. 'Your Erik is cruel.'

'No. I'm just selfish for wanting to stay the centre of your life,' she cried into him.

'No, you're not. Erik is mean for making you think I would not have you come with me.'

Her head popped up at this, her eyes red from the tears that still pooled slowly in their sapphire depths. 'W-what?'

He held in a laugh. 'I bought a house, Christine, right outside of the city. It's a pleasant little building, but that is all it would ever be unless you lived there. My house is only a home when you are with me.'

'You-you want me to move in with you?' she asked tentatively.

'If you think you could handle seeing me all day every day, yes, that is the hope,' he answered, letting his own concern come into his gaze. 'You are the only one who can make that wish in vain, though.'

She shook her head so hard it made him wobble a little. 'I want to, Erik! I want to be with you forever!'

He laughed, trying to hide his overwhelming relief at her answer. 'We'll see how long that lasts.'

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. 'Forever,' she pronounced with solid conviction in her eyes. Pulling him in, she filled his lips with a kiss, making him take in a breath at the sensation of her mouth breathing life into him.

When they at last parted for air, Christine sneaking in a few pecks on his chin and bottom lip as she smiled joyfully, she tapped the very tip of her finger on the mask's nose.

'Do you want to know what I got you for Christmas?'

He smiled despite himself. 'Isn't it a little early?'

She pulled out her phone from her pocket, illuminating the screen and showing him with a proud grin the time. 12:02AM

'Joyeux Noël, Christine,' he said, returning her happy expression.

'God Jul, Erik,' she replied, leaning forward to kiss him.

That, he thought, was enough of a gift. Still, she urged him towards the front door, to open it and bring them into the living room. She put him on the sofa, telling him to sit and wait. He obeyed, wondering how she could think he would do anything else. She had thankfully already taken his cloak along with her own—which was technically one of his that she had hemmed to suit her.

She went over to the Christmas tree, and rooted about a bit before giving a victorious noise and crawling back out, much to Erik's amusement. He did not mind seeing her do this as her jeans afforded him a lovely view. He reminded himself not to act on such thoughts, especially without her permission.

Coming over to him, she curled herself up on the sofa beside him, holding out a wrapped box with a bright green bow to complement the sparkling red paper.

'This one is special,' she explained, nodding to his others still under the tree.

He looked at her with unbridled devotion. Any gift from her would be special. Her presence most of all.

'Thank you,' he nearly whispered, looking at the box in his hands. He held it for a few moments, simply admiring the fact that she had given him something. His mother had only ever given him masks, smacks, and harsh words. Christine gave him kisses, hugs, and loving endearments.

Christine bit her tongue, wanting to urge him to open the present but remembering how much it meant to him to get anything at all. He had broken down in tears the first time she had given him a gift, being nothing but Valentine's Day chocolates but meaning the world to him. He had explained that he had never received a present before, making this Christmas all the more special.

Finally opening the package, he froze when the paper tore. He looked at her with unmistakable horror.

'It's all right, Erik. You're supposed to rip it,' she explained, leaning in to put a reassuring kiss on his masked cheek. She frowned and he caught her eyes looking at the mask with distain. He nodded his consent and let her take the covering off of him. She smiled then, reapplying her kiss to his cool skin.

He understood what one was meant to do with the paper, but he did not want to ruin it. Carefully removing the tape, he unwrapped it without damaging the paper, putting it aside to secret away somewhere as a memento of his first official Christmas. Turning his eyes to the box in his hand, he continued to open it. It was a plain rectangular box that was designed to hold a garment. He held his breath as he revealed what lay within.

White music notes and symbols were scattered about on a sea of black knitted yarn. Holding it up revealed a sweater. It was narrow with long arms, making it suited to him alone.

He looked between it and Christine with wide eyes. 'You…made me a sweater?' he asked, disbelief in his tone and expression. She nodded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. It did not last long until she was engulfed in his embrace. He actually knocked her over in his zeal, making her hit the cushions of the sofa behind her with an oof and a giggle. He tried to apologise, but she interrupted his mouth by putting her in the way. His surprise and embarrassment melted away as his arms coiled around her, holding her to him as he lay atop her. Her arms wound their way across his back and to his hair, making sure their kiss was set in place. He would not be going anywhere if she had any say in the matter.

When their screaming lungs demanded they resurface, he finally managed out his thanks for the gift.

'It's not as fancy as a new house,' she said with a pout, her eyes gleaming with the excitement at the prospect of living with her Erik aboveground. 'But it was the best I could do.'

'It's perfect. Thank you, Christine. I don't know what I ever did in my life to deserve you,' he whispered, his eyes closed in bliss as he rested his forehead on hers. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' She brought their mouths together, filling the evening with passion, love, and joy.

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! I am proud to say that this story won for Most Christmas Spirit! I am so happy with who won in this contest and look forward to the next one!