a/n Huzzah! An update! Absolutely nothing happens in this chapter! It is almost entirely fluff! (here, the author of the story you are, for some strange reason, still reading pauses to wonder why she keeps using exclamation points, then shrugs) I needed some fluff—it's been a rough week. I love you all! (and here, your oddball author runs in circles as she realizes that she's used yet another exclamation point)

CHAPTER 9—LOVE'S DUET

Vienna in winter had never been more beautiful than it was at that moment, Gustave decided. Looking down at twilight, as the deepening blue took over the sky, Gustave was content to sit on the roof in his opera cloak and hat with a cigarette. The matinee of The Messiah had been a successful end to a successful two week long run. As Isabella had not been back in time for rehearsal, his mother made a now rare appearance in her place, which had positively brought down the house.

When she had descended the grand staircase of the de Chagny home, Gustave's breath had left his chest in a rush. She had looked beautiful. Her blonde tresses had been piled in curls with pins on top of her head and she wore a gown that served to be both festive and accentuating to her figure. Green velvet had flown over a golden underskirt made of silk, all the way down to the floor. Her face was a bit flushed as Gustave helped her into her black cloak, then out the door to the waiting carriage. Tonight had been the first time he watched a performance with her beside him, instead of watching her perform in front of him. He had held her silk-covered hand through the entire performance and watched her, entranced, instead of focusing on the performance below as she was.

Now she was below, celebrating the end of the year with the rest of the company, who were thrilled with her return. Engrossed in his thoughts, Gustave had noticed neither the full darkening of the sky or the presence of someone else on the roof with him until a gentle hand rested on his arm. He turned to see his mother, wrapped in his father's cloak and looking all the tinier for it, smiling up at him with concern in her eyes. Reaching up, she ran her hand across his hair like she had done when he was much younger.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Gustave smiled. "I'm fabulous."

Christine's eyebrows raised a bit. "Fabulous."

Nodding, Gustave kissed his mother's cheek before flicking the cigarette over the edge of the building. "Merry Christmas, mother." He wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders.

She gave a small laugh and leaned against her oldest son's side. "Why aren't you down with the rest of them?" she asked.

Gustave shrugged. "It's a little loud for me tonight, I suppose."

A small smile played across Christine's face. "Since when have things become too loud for you? It seems like only last week you were tromping around the house in your father's too-big shoes singing at the top of your little voice."

A laugh escaped from Gustave's lips and he shook his head, smiling. "Since I've been putting serious thought into settling down."

"A thought your father still finds hard to come to terms with. Count Gustave Dussek wants to settle down and get married."

Gustave rolled his eyes at the use of his title. "Why's it hard to come to terms with?"he asked.

"He thinks he's getting old." She shook her head and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Just the other day he was saying he's nearly sixty and he feels old. You leaving the house and getting married just makes him feel older."

Gustave gave his mother a sly smile. "Who said anything about moving out?"

"Oh, no, you don't," she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair again. "I'm not having two newlyweds under my roof. And speaking of newlyweds," she added, "have the two of you set a date yet?"

It was the question that she had never stopped asking since that day that he had rushed off to see Isabella upon finding that she was home. The amount of persistence that accompanied the question depended on whether it came from Christine or Sonia, though. As usual, Christine was satisfied with an answer that they had discussed it. She nodded happily and linked her arm through his as she led him back downstairs, where his father was now waiting to take the family home.

"I'll be out in a minute," Gustave said, looking around for Isabella. "Just want to say goodbye."

"Don't take too long," Erik said. Gustave blushed when he saw the mischievous glint in his father's eye.

Shoving his way through the crowd, Gustave pulled Isabella aside and into her dressing room. She smiled brilliantly at up at him as he closed the door and pulled him to her. "Your mother was fantastic," she said excitedly. "I've never seen her on the stage, you see, and it was quite an experience to—"

She was silenced by the pair of lips that pressed frantically against hers and she gave a small giggle as he swept her off her dainty feet and spun her around, landing both of them in a comfortable love seat. Pulling away from her, Gustave studied her flushed face and swollen lips with fascination before kissing her forehead. "I'm afraid I have to leave, my love."

"No!" Her voice raised slightly as she pleaded with him, praising him with declarations of love and words of need. It was only when he kissed her again that she stopped, and she smiled when he pulled away.

"My father's waiting outside with the carriage and there's no end to the teasing I'll get if I don't hop along quick." He kissed the tip of her nose and set her back on her feet. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas," she said. "I have to see you tomorrow, even if it's only for a moment."

"And I shall count the moments between now and then with bated breath and thoughts of love."

Another small giggle escaped her lips. "I love you, too."

Dinner that night was a cheerful affair, with Tristan telling jokes while their father debated politics with Gustave. Christine was busily trying to keep Angelique from knocking her glass over as she rambled on and on about how pretty their mother had looked and how beautifully she had sang that night. As always, Mathieu ate in the gentle silence with which he usually conducted himself. Afterwards, the family retired to the red room, where the younger boys sat playing marbles while Angelique watched.

Gustave had been lounging drowsily in his chair in front of the fire when Christine stepped across to him. Smiling, she placed a glass of wine on the table next to him. "Merry Christmas, darling," she said, kissing his cheek.

She crossed back to her husband and sat down on the sofa beside him, curling her feet up underneath her. Erik wrapped one strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she gave a contented little sigh as she surveyed her children playing. Tristan and Mathieu were now wrestling playfully on the open floor and Gustave had begun to tickle an unsuspecting Angelique. Eve was asleep in her crib upstairs, so Christine felt no urge to silence her children. Just as she was beginning to fall asleep on Erik's comfortable shoulder, she heard a screech of laughter that jolted her back awake. She shook her head to clear it and got to her feet.

"Children," she said, just loudly enough to be heard. All activity on the carpet ceased as four pairs of eyes, both brown and green, looked up at her. "Sleep well, babies, and soon it will be Christmas."

"Will there be lots of presents, mama?" Tristan asked, hopping to his feet and tugging on hand. "Will there?"

"I don't know, darling," she said mysteriously. "I suppose you'll have to wait until morning." Bending down, she kissed him on the cheek. "Sleep tight, Tristan." Holding out her arms for Mathieu, she folded her youngest son into her, kissing his cheek and smiling down at him before she straightened. Gustave was standing, holding the hand of a now-drowsy looking Angelique.

"Goodnight, mother," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Do you want Angelique? I think she's about to fall asleep on her feet."

"No, I'm not," the little girl said, but she let loose an enormous yawn that gave her away. Angelique walked over to her mother and took her hand. Christine smiled down at her daughter and led her to her father.

"Tell your papa goodnight," she said.

Angelique crawled into Erik's lap and snuggled into his chest. "Goodnight, papa," she said with another enormous yawn. Then she was asleep.

He shook his head. "Never fails," he said, standing up carefully, as not to wake his sleeping daughter. He smiled at his children. "Sleep well," he said, then he turned a critical eye to Gustave. "Make sure the boys get to bed late. I want to have a Christmas where I actually get to sleep in."

"Not likely," Christine said with a small smile as she ran a hand over Angelique's curls. "We should get this little one up to bed." She placed a hand on the small of her husband's back and followed him up the stairs to Angelique's bedroom. Once inside, Christine reached for a nightgown while Erik began to remove toys from the bed. Once Angelique was in her nightclothes, he pulled back the comforter and watched as Christine placed the tiny girl on the bed and covered her up. She leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Goodnight, darling," she whispered.

When she had stepped back, Erik knelt beside the bed and stared down at Angelique. Brushing her curls back from her face, he smiled when her brown eyes opened sleepily and she stared up at him. "Goodnight, papa," she murmured.

"Goodnight, bel ange," he said softly. He kissed her cheek and pulled the covers up tighter. "Sleep the whole night through and tomorrow will be Christmas."

She smiled and closed her eyes again. "I love you, papa," she whispered. "I love you, mama."

Christine smiled and kissed Angelique's other cheek. "I love you, too, darling."

Quietly, Erik and Christine crept from their daughter's room as she quickly fell back into a deep sleep. Smiling, Christine eased the door shut behind her. "Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

"In a few minutes," he said softly. "I think I'd like a brandy before bed." With that, he gave her a short kiss before heading toward the library.

Christine made her way slowly to the bedroom where she changed into a long white nightshift before climbing into bed and snuggling deep into the pillows. She was nearly falling asleep again when she heard the door open. Erik quietly made his way around the room in the process of undressing and she didn't open her eyes until he was in the bed next to her. An arm snaked its way around her waist and pulled her against her husband's firm chest and she smiled as she leaned into him. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck and his agile fingers toyed with her brown curls.

"Tomorrow is Christmas," he murmured. "Do you know why I love Christmas?"

"Because you get lots of presents?"

She felt him press his face into the hair that rested on the pillow behind her head and inhale deeply. "Because," he said simply, "it sounds like your name."

For some reason, tears sprung to her eyes at this. She wondered if he knew that the times when he was the most romantic were those times when he spoke plainly and lovingly, just like this. She rolled onto her back and pulled Erik's head against her chest, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. "I love you, you know," she said softly.

"I do know," he said. "But I'll bet I love you more." He leaned up and kissed her cheeks, where tears of love had left tracks on her porcelain skin. "I love you, Christine."

She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him deeply. He shifted so that he was on top of her, and his hands stroked back her hair from her face. When he pulled away, he smiled down at her. "How awake are you?"

"Awake enough," she murmured, pulling him down for another kiss. He kissed her back, slowly and passionately, and she felt her toes curl beneath the blankets. She smiled as she thought how only this man could still curl her toes after nearly twenty years. His lips left hers to wreak havoc on her neck and she inhaled deeply as his teeth caught the delicate skin behind her ear. Brown eyes fluttered shut and all she knew was pleasure. Knowing hands slid down her slender frame, running over every curve and sensitive place from shoulder to hips. They grasped at the nightgown and pulled it up to her waist before making their way between her legs, where no cloth stopped them from their destination. Fingers danced and she cried out in passion as Erik touched the places that gave her the most pleasure. Desperate to please him as well, she moved her shaking hands to the waistband of his sleep pants and untied them. Once they had been removed, Christine ran her hands over the hardened flesh she found and smiled as she heard the hiss of breath her husband expelled from between his lips.

"Please," he gasped. "Please."

He was helpless as she rolled him onto his back and pleasured him as he so often did her. She felt his hands in her hair, urging her on for a bit before he pulled her back up to his face and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled again at him as he rolled her onto her back again and slowly took her from behind. She inhaled deeply as he slid in and out of her slowly, one hand finding its way back to her front. She moaned and curled closer to him, feeling the scorching heat in her veins that signaled her release. Voice rising in cries of passion, Christine rode the waves of pleasure that rolled throughout her body and felt Erik shaking behind her—heard his strangled voice call out her name.

After it was over, his lips traced over her sweaty back and across her hair, then to her shoulders, finally making their way around to her own lips. She gave a happy sigh and smiled as he curled onto his side, spooning against her back and resting his chin on her shoulder. Christine turned her head and kissed his scarred cheek before she whispered, "I love you."

And before she knew it, she had fallen asleep under her husband's loving gaze.

a/n Like I said, fluff. I needed to do some fluff. And earn this story its rating. (here, your peculiar author begins to fall asleep in her chair before jolting awake again and looking around, wondering where the pink monkeys went) YO! Um… Yeah. Sleepy time.