Hi all! Thanks so much for the reviews! I appreciate them so much!

This story has kinda gotten out of control. What started out as a one-shot ficlet is turning into a short story. So here's Chapter 2, with more to come in just a few days!

Please review, thank you!

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What the hell was that? I thought, trying to will my heartbeat back to normal. I determinedly ignored the fluttering in my stomach and ran a hand through my hair. Where the hell had that kiss come from? Nigel had been acting like my brother for the last who knows how long and then he gives me a practically R rated kiss under the mistletoe in front of everyone? He'd probably had a few too many Eggnogs, I decided. He didn't know what he was doing. If I was lucky he would forget all about it by Monday.

The elevator stopped in the lobby and I walked as fast as I could towards the parking lot. I was just unlocking the door to my '67 El Camino when I heard my name.

"Jordan, wait up!"

I glanced over and cursed my mutinous heart as it fluttered anxiously when I saw Nigel running full tilt towards me. He skidded on a patch of ice, managed somehow to keep his balance, and came to a stop in front of me. For a tall, skinny guy who was all gangly arms and legs, he was unusually graceful, I noticed.

"Jordan, just wait a minute!" he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"I have to go," I said. "I have to be at Karen's."

He gave me a speculative look. "That's three different houses you're supposed to be at right now, Jordan," he said. "I don't suppose you have a couple of clones around, do you?"

I scowled at him.

"You don't have anywhere to be tonight, do you Jordan?" he asked. "You're not going over to anyone's house. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say you're going to go home and drown yourself in a bottle or two of Guinness."

"It's none of your business what I'm doing tonight, Nigel," I snapped, glaring at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes, Nigel, you're right. You're brilliant. Now, I need to go," I said. I was angry at myself for admitting he was right, but I was even more angry with him for being right and being able to read me as well as he could.

He sighed heavily. "I'm not going to let you spend Christmas alone," he said. "C'mon luv, come over to my place. We'll get some Chinese delivered and watch It's a Wonderful Life."

"I don't think so," I said, shaking my head. "You have a party to go to."

He rolled his eyes. "There is a party going on," he said. "That doesn't mean I have to or even want to go."

I sighed again.

"C'mon, let's go to my place."

I looked at him speculatively. There was something different about him, but I couldn't quite tell what it was. There was a look on his face that I couldn't quite read, but the look in his eyes got my stomach fluttering again.

"Okay, let's go," I said. Then, remembering that it was winter and Nigel took the train when he couldn't ride his bike, I unlocked the door and motioned for him to get in the passenger side.

He complied and we rode in silence to his apartment. The only sound was Sting singing a Christmas song on my favorite alternative station.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the party?" I asked as we neared his place.

"I'm sure. It'll just be a bunch of guys getting wankered," he said.

I nodded as I pulled into a rare coveted spot right in front of Nigel's apartment building. I had dropped Nigel off countless times after a night at the Pogue, but I had never been invited upstairs.

I put the car in park. I glanced sideways at Nigel. He was watching me, brow furrowed in thought. When he saw me looking he just smiled and said, "Well, let's go."

I nodded, noting the almost physical sense of tension that filled the car.

We walked up three flights of stairs to Nigel's apartment. He unlocked the door and motioned me in. I walked inside, not knowing what to expect from Nigel Townsend's apartment.

It wasn't at all what I might have pictured, and it definitely didn't fit the profile of a bachelor pad, with stale pizza boxes and porno magazines strewn around.

"I'm going to go change my shirt," Nigel said and disappeared through a doorway that probably led to his bedroom.

The apartment was small and slightly cluttered, but it was clean. A giant Union Jack hung on the wall above a black leather couch and there was an entertainment center with a large TV and DVD player. There was a Playstation hooked up to the TV, and game boxes were stacked on a glass coffee table. A small desk held a top of the line computer and bookshelves covered one wall, filled with books and computer magazines.

I looked around, interested in seeing Nigel's home away from work. When I finished looking around I turned around and found Nigel coming out of the bedroom, wearing a black Ramones t-shirt.

"Meet with your approval?" he asked with a grin.

I laughed. "I like your place. It's very…you," I said.

"Very me?" he said. "How's that?"

I shrugged. "Oh I don't know. The Union Jack, the Playstation. It's all very Nigel."

"Well, thanks, luv. I think," Nigel said, plopping down on the couch. He picked up a package from the coffee table and took out a chocolate flavored cookie and popped it in his mouth.

"Biscuit?" he said, holding out the package.

I took the package and looked at it. "What are these?" I asked as I sat on the couch next to him.

"They're McV's," he said matter-of-factly, like I should have known that.

I rolled my eyes. "That's helpful."

"They're biscuits. Cookies, as you American's put it. The very best, straight from England."

"Ooh, really?" I said. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"My Aunt Bea sent them to me," Nigel said. "In my Christmas package."

I nodded and bit into a cookie. It was excellent, light and crispy with a milk chocolate coating. "Mmm," I said approvingly.

Nigel shrugged, as if to say "I told ya so."

"Is it pretty hard being this far away from your family?" I asked.

Nigel took a deep breath and popped another cookie. "Well," he said around a mouthful of crumbs. "Yeah, it is," he said, nodding. "I haven't seen my family in fifteen years. Since I came to the States."

"Tell me about your family," I said, trying to ignore the fact that I was sitting hip to hip with Nigel Townsend on his couch, alone in his apartment.

"Well," he said. "My Mum died when I was little. My father was in the British Royal Navy and wasn't around much. He wanted me to follow in his military footsteps, and I was in the Navy for a couple of years before I left, then I came to the States not long after. He was disappointed in me, of course.

"My Aunt Bea practically raised me. She's a character. She's more Mum to me that my real Mum, who was her sister. I have an older sister, Abby, who's married and has a few rug rats."

I nodded, enjoying this insight into Nigel's past, which was something that he rarely talked about at work. He talked about England, of course, but rarely of his family.

There was a silence then. It was awkward and uncomfortable and filled with tension. I wondered if Nigel was thinking about our kiss. I sure was.

"Well," Nige said suddenly, standing up and clapping his hands together. "I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

"The holiday ham didn't fill you up, eh?" I asked with a smirk.

Nigel shuddered. "Ugh. No. I'm feeling like some Charlie Chow's. Wotcha think?"

"Sounds awesome," I said.

Nigel picked up a cordless phone and hit the speed dial. He glanced over at me and I raised an eyebrow. "Call for take out a lot?" I asked.

Nigel rolled his eyes and ignored me as he rambled off his order. We had ordered Chinese food so many times that he knew exactly what I wanted without even asking. I felt a little tightening in my stomach as I realized how well we knew each other. It probably sounded pretty stupid, but there was a certain sort of intimacy when you knew someone so well that you knew how they drank their coffee or that they preferred Mu Shu Pork and chow mein with crunchy noodles.

I shook my head, chastising myself for being an idiot.

"They'll be here in a half hour," Nigel said, placing the phone back on its charger.

"Coolness," I said.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked. "I have It's a Wonderful Life. Or Miracle on 34th Street."

I stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Somehow I just don't picture you as the type to watch sappy Christmas movies," I said.

Nigel gave me an offended look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said, "I just didn't…I don't know. Never mind."

"You didn't know that Christmas is my favorite holiday? It is. Aunt Bea always made Christmas awesome for me and Abby. That's one thing that's hard about being away from home. The holidays."

"Huh. I always pictured you as liking Halloween more than Christmas," I said.

"Halloween's good, too," Nigel said.

There was a pause then, and after a minute Nigel said, "Well, I'm going to pop in a movie, if that's alright with you."

"Sure," I said.

Nigel stood up and took out a DVD and popped it in to the player. He sat back down and a few minutes later It's a Wonderful Life filled the screen.

I had a hard time concentrating on the movie, which I had actually only seen maybe once or twice. I was entirely too distracted by Nigel Townsend sitting next to me on the couch.

We were interrupted once by Chinese food, which we ate on our laps on the couch as we watched the movie. Chinese food on Christmas Eve, I thought. It was a little bit different from the feasts I remembered as a kid, with turkey and ham and real mashed potatoes. Somehow there just didn't seem to be much that was Christmas-y about MuShu Pork.

When the movie ended Nigel turned to me and asked what I thought.

I pasted on a big fake smile, trying to cover up the fact that I hadn't paid attention to the movie. "It was great," I said. Then, for lack of anything more intelligent to say, I said, "So why don't you have a Christmas tree?"

He shrugged. "Too much work for just one person," he replied. I nodded in understanding, thinking of my bleak apartment, devoid of any trace of Christmas spirit. Which wasn't too surprising, since I myself was devoid of any Christmas spirit.

"Ya know what? We should get a Christmas tree. I have ornaments. It's Christmas Eve, we should have a Christmas tree," Nigel said suddenly.

I looked at him, slightly alarmed. "Why?"

He looked offended. "Why? Because, tomorrow's Christmas."

"It's Christmas Eve," I said doubtfully. "There probably isn't a Christmas tree to be found."

He shrugged. "We can try. It'll be fun."

I didn't think there was much that sounded fun about tromping around in the snow that had started falling, trying to find a Christmas tree that would be up for what? A few days. But, Nigel had been nice enough to invite me over, the least I could do was go along with his plan. Even if it did sound nuts.

We bundled up and walked downstairs. "There's a tree lot on the corner," Nige said with a grin.

I followed him down the street, and I had a sudden urge to hold his hand. This was all so…homey. Watching a Christmas movie, going to buy a tree to decorate. It made me start to think things that I knew I had no business thinking.

Like settling down, starting a family. Things that I knew were not in the cards for Jordan Cavanaugh.

We got to the corner lot just as the guy running the tree stand was closing up, probably so he could spend the holiday with his family.

Pickings were slim, but Nigel gamely walked around the few trees, picking just the right one. A light snow was falling, and it was incredibly cold. He finally stopped in front of the least scrawny of the trees. "How bout this one, luv?"

I nodded. I couldn't feel my feet and didn't really care either way. I was starting to feel extremely Grinchy about the whole thing. What was Nigel pulling, trying to have a homey little Christmas?

Nigel paid for the tree, and the tree guy smiled at us. "First Christmas together?" he asked.

"Yup," Nigel said, giving me a wink. "The first of many, hopefully."

I scowled at him, but he was already looking away, picking up the Christmas tree.

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