AN: Everyone says [everyone being people on the Moonlight fan forums who know me as Hydriotaphia] that I'm always mean to Mick. Wellll...yes, but it's *fun*! Don't worry, I wasn't mean. I just threw in a little bit of Christmas cheer, some do-gooding impulses and a very troublesome housepest. Let the projected mayhem ensue! :D
For those of ye what have forgotten, Sam is the computer hacker in ep. 10. And y'all should know the housepest from ep. 13
--
Everywhere he looked, Mick could see ribbons and bows. They swept huge arches over enormous packages and sat squat and small against the deep velveteen boxes in the jeweller's windows. Sprigs and sprays of fake holly clashed with them – garlands of burgundy, greens, blues, yellows. It was as if LA had suddenly spray painted itself a wonderful sunshine tartan. A skinny black Santa rang his bell at the mall entrance, his deep bass grinding against 'Jingle Bells' played on what Mick could have sworn was a timpani.
And under the garlands of ribbons were the people. He closed his eyes briefly imagining all of humanity swirling in the malls, in the streets, in the arteries of the world and he smiled. It helped to know there were things bigger and longer-lasting than he could aspire to. When his eyes opened, they scanned the faces in the doorway, skipping instinctively over hair a shade too blonde, a body that was nice but not quite right, the wrong face, the wrong pale skin, the wrong walk, the wrong hands, the wrong- no, the right blue eyes; suddenly oblivious to everything else Mick stepped forward to meet his world.
"Hi," she said, lifting her face for a kiss. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had so much paperwork..."
"Beth," he whispered contentedly. And laughed as she snuggled up against his chest, her hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans. Mick wrapped his arms round her, trying studiously to avoid the shocked glances from parents, switching sides with their children to block him from view; teenagers gave them half-jealous, half-amused nods as they walked past. "Beth? We can't walk like this. We're either going to look like the two-headed freak show or someone is going to think I'm kidnapping you."
She pulled away, chuckling. "Chicken. Come on, before all the good things are gone."
The noise settled into a different pattern further inside. It had been years since Mick had voluntarily shopped at a mall. Normally the closest he came was reviewing mall security when a child went missing, as they so often did. Especially around Christmas - people got so busy and a little body could vanish in a crowd so easily.
Beth gasped as an arm slipped round her waist to pull her close. "Mick?"
"Just making sure you don't get lost in the crowd," he smiled down at her. She blinked, half-smiling, half- startled. "Where to first?" Mick asked, his long legs carrying her inexorably onwards.
"Let's see. You need a tree, lights, tinsel, baubles, figures, candles – don't worry, I won't start a fire – marshmallows, hot chocolate – what? Humans like hot chocolate – food..."
"Really?" He broke into her enthusiastic ramble. "I thought you said this was a quick trip?"
"Why?" She titled her head, grinning at him. "Are you worried you'll be eaten alive by Christmas shoppers? Because it's all so cut-throat around Christmas."
Mick made an unidentifiable choking noise. "Y-you slay me," he managed to say, swallowing laughter and ridicule in a valiant attempt.
"Bite me," she replied, ignoring Mick's feeble come-back.
His lips pursed in the playful, boyish look he'd developed just to tease her. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," Mick whispered.
Beth bumped against him lightly with her hip and supressed the desire to hug him close. She'd watched the hunger in him, the way his head turned a little to catch every bit of human sensation. This was normal then, screwed up and normal, just as Josh had once predicted. "Whatever you want," she whispered back, eyes feeding on him.
He turned away with a quick laugh and focused on steering through the crowd.
"Don't worry," she told his smirking profile. "You'll make it worthwhile for me too."
--
One eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You're not serious?" he asked tentatively. It wasn't often Beth said please. Mick mistrusted the word with the intense concern of a man experienced in all her capricious ways. 'Beth had said please' his ears screamed at him, willing his brain to react. He set his mug down on the steel bench-top; a mouth-shaped stain of blood showed dark red against the festive green rim.
"It's just for a week or so." She reached out to cover his hand with hers. "Please, Mick?"
His eyes jerked towards their entwined fingers; in the beginning, when they'd been so unsure of each other, she'd touched him like that. He hadn't remembered how sweet the gesture was, the warmth of her palm stretching all the way through his body to melt his objections. He could feel himself giving in, muscle by muscle.
"Beth," he tried one last time. "If he comes here it's not a good idea for me to be around. I don't know how much we can take of each other."
"It's Christmas," she laughed. "Stop being such a Scrooge."
He flinched away from her at that, setting his arms tight across his chest. "And what?" Mick shrugged. "You think this magically changes with the seasons?"
"Come on, Mick." Beth threw her hands up, frustrated. She'd almost had him, she knew. "You know you owe Sam. And you won't have to do a thing." He'd been one word away from putty in her hands, the stubborn, insensate moron. "He liked you when he met you last."
"It was different."
"He might remember."
"I was...different," he repeated, unwilling to even mention the word he could never be again.
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. "You think just because animals don't like vampires that this is impossible? You can't do something nice for one week?" She was crowding him against the kitchen island now, hands on hips, unconsciously mimicking his habits. Mick felt the smile tug at his lips in spite of himself. "Well, it's Christmas and Sam hasn't been home in three years and she is going home this year because it's Christmas and I am going to watch Travis for her because she was nice enough to take him in. And you," a finger shot out to poke at his chest, "can go to h-"
He yanked her against him, breaking the flow of speech; Beth went clumsily, squeaking her surprise. "Now now," Mick admonished softly. "Don't say that. It's not nice."
"I'm nice-...."
He didn't answer for a moment, teeth and tongue focused one bare earlobe. Finally he whispered, "It's our first Christmas together." He'd known he was going to kiss her the second the frustrated note crept into her voice. When he kissed down the slope of her jaw, she was ready and waiting for him. "Mistletoe," Beth mumbled and then latched a fist into his hair, stilling him as she slid her lips across his.
Mick responded to her eagerly, balancing them both and then neatly turned the tables on her. Beth found herself lifted off the floor, the hand in his hair anchoring her to him, and the vampire nipping at her lower lip. "Mine," he said with a flash of silver eyes and kissed her retort away. When she was thoroughly subdued he opened his eyes to find her watching him with a very disconcerting expression.
Suddenly self-conscious, Mick put her down. "What?" The grin slowly making its way across her face worried him.
"You're jealous," she crowed, triumph sparkling in her eyes.
"No!"
"Of a cat!"
"Look, they run from vamps," he protested, not meeting her eyes. "You saw him with Logan. They could destroy the tree and wrapping, and they need to be fed and petted and kept safe. It's a lot of work. It takes time, OK?"
"Of a cat!" And then Beth was leaning backwards, laughter spilling into the corners of the room. He watched her with a foolish, half-resigned smile on his face. "You think that's funny?" he asked finally, breaking into her giggles.
She nodded, blue eyes aglow. "Say yes," she demanded, pressing up against him. "Say it!"
"OK. OK. You can bring the cat here."
"Thank you," she said, reaching up for another kiss. "It'll mean so much to Sam."
He took a deep breath. It was for just a week. And Travis couldn't possibly be worse than Coraline. Maybe the cat just didn't like Logan; Mick could understand that. Maybe it would recognise something human about him? Mick sighed and turned back to his breakfast. It would probably be loud hissing, claws and yowling in all corners of his apartment the entire time. How the hell did Beth get him to agree to these things? He grinned sheepishly at the mug.... It was just a week. And they did owe Sam for tracking Martan . "I guess a week might not be so bad," he admitted.
"Maybe ten days."
The mug froze half-way to his lips. "A week. You said a week."
But Beth was already at the kitchen table, phone pressed against her ear. "A week, ten days...whatever she wants.... Hi, Sam? Yeah, it's no problem. Not at all. Mick," she glanced up at him impishly, "was more than happy to take him. Yeah. Why don't we pick him up tomorrow? What time are you leaving?"
Mick took a swig and looked around him. This was a bad idea. Nothing was set up for a pet: the tree was blinking gaily, glass ornaments and shiny baubles hanging well within reach of a curious paw, a few parcels at the foot of the tree, the solid bulk of wood and leather scattered around the room. His eyes tracked Beth unconsciously, watching her saunter to the couch, puckered frown lines on her forehead as times, places and other instructions were absorbed. Mick winced at the sudden vision of jagged claw marks adorning his furniture. He watched Beth sprawl the length of the couch then, the leather spooning her. Adorning.... Two quick minutes later the empty cup was sitting on the shelf again, he'd rinsed the taste of corpse blood from his mouth at the faucet and she was hanging up the phone.
"So," she began, watching him walk towards her, "do you have a lot of-"
"No," he told her.
"But-"
"No. Just you tonight. That's all."
He didn't miss the little smug flick of her eyes. Mick smiled; it was not a nice smile, full of the promise of sharp teeth and animal intensity.
Beth felt her mouth dry out. Who needs mistletoe, she asked herself silently.