Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; nor do I make any money from posting this story. Just a work of fiction from an overactive imagination . . .

He'd arrived home the night before to a fire burning low in the townhouse's fireplace, a real tree sitting to its right in front of the window, white lights twinkling merrily from its boughs. Having noted the twinkling lights before he'd entered the building, it had made sense that his guest was a friend. Yet, the number of those who knew he called this Beacon street townhouse home, could be counted on fingers. But, he'd approached with caution.

After slipping in through the back entry, setting his bag aside and removed his boats; he'd begun the quiet investigation to determine who'd invaded his lair.

Stopping first in the kitchen, he'd hung his head in tired resignation at the various takeout boxes that littered the counter top. Their logos advertising a mixed cuisine of greasy indulgence had given him his first clue as to who was there; and allowed him to breathe just a bit easier. Then he'd made his way into the hallway; warn Chucks sitting next to a pair of his work boots had brought a tired smile to his stoic features.

When he'd slipped through the French doors into the den the first thing that had caught his eye was that the room had been rearranged to allow for the tree to be placed in front of the window, where it could be seen from the street outside. The dirty blond head, missing its sun bleached curls, resting on one arm, while sock covered feet peeked out from under the blanket at the other end of his couch, now situated in front of the fire, had the smile turning indulgent.

He'd stood there drinking in the site of his friend, and sometimes lover; safely sleeping on his couch while he shed the baggage of the latest Leverage and Associates job. He'd added a log to the fire and turned to make his way upstairs for a shower before he woke the younger man.

Now it was Christmas Eve, they'd spent the day lounging; relaxing in each other's company. Catching up on all of the comings and goings of the last year and a half. Of course he'd talked to the blond in that time, but there hadn't been a safe opportunity for them to actually seek each other out. The house boat now belonged to Red; Jake and Hardison had helped insure its safe keeping and maintenance. But, with Brian being undercover, again – the sheer thought made him want to growl – they'd not had time to physically meet-up.

Earlier, he'd made them dinner, and put a bottle of mulled wine on to warm for afterwards. The mischievous twinkle in the ocean blue eyes should have been his warning, but he'd been lulled into the relaxed ease that always came when he was with the blond.

It wasn't long, before that mischievous twinkle had become action; when Brian had painted his lips with the warmed wine then proceeded to lick it from them. Only to stick his finger in the warm juice and paint it along his neck, chasing it with his tongue. Pulling back the blond had sat his glass aside and grabbed the hem of his shirt; pulling it up and over his head and shoving him flat. The feeling of the warm wine splashing on his skin followed by the devilish mouth had him growling about imps, and something about spilling red wine on the carpet, but it'd just gone from there.

Now they sat, physically sated; him leaning against the heavy couch, Brian's back to his front his arms around the blond, a soft blanket wrapped around both their nude bodies. The blond's head, resting nuzzled into neck between chin and collarbone. Ocean blue and artic blue eyes staring off into the fire; their bodies cooling, both ignoring the sticky mess as it dries to their skin.

His mind quiet, thoughts drifting from one topic to the next; never settling long enough to form a complete plan or observation. They paused the longest on the gift he'd arranged for the younger man earlier; a family Christmas for the two half siblings that had been robbed of so many. He smiled at the idea of he and Cougar relaxing quietly watching over their respective blonds as they celebrated Christmas together.

The lips of the man in his arms move against his skin, causing a shiver to run through his body, had him coming back to the present, but missing what Brian had said. Pulling back so he could meet the ocean blue eyes he waited for the younger man to repeat his request.

He didn't have to wait long before the question was reiterated in a quiet whisper, "Sing for me?" Bowing his head he captured the dusky pink lips in a kiss of acknowledgement, pulling back before it went any deeper, there'd be another round before they called it a night, but neither were as young as they once had been . . .

He allowing the younger man to resettle himself, then he began to hum. Switching from one song to another, and another before he found one he felt worked for the moment. He began to sing, not a holiday song but something that seemed to fit, his soft tenor a bit gravely from the night's earlier activities . . .

"Can I cut in on a dance . . .

You ain't gonna find what you're lookin' for

In that little Mexican

You can't mix your tears with those from an agave plant

You see I've danced with him myself and he's never been a friend . . ."

His voice faded back into a hum, as he thought about the lyrics to the song a bit, then he began to sing again.

"All them boys on those white horses, don't know how to ride . . ."

Which caused the man in his arms to snort a chuckle, causing him to hold him tighter against his body.

"But I got a paint outside with enough giddy up to be free . . .

I got a faint smell of cheap perfume and a hint of gasoline . . .

See I'm a different kind of knight

You're gonna find your fairy tales are all lies . . .

I don't have a white horse, but you can come along for the ride . . ."

End note:

The song quoted above is Christian Kane's "Different Kind of Knight"