This story is a mix of Season 6 Tony/Angela as well as a backstory scenario for the clock mentioned in 'Grandmommie Dearest'. I did have to take some creative license and have the events of 'Sam Accelerates' take place before Christmas rather than January when (according to IMDb) it aired.

Dedicated to Anja, my Secret Santa giftee. Merry Christmas! I hope you like it :) Also a Merry Christmas to anyone else reading!

"Oh, Dad!" Samantha called from her spot in front of a department store window. "What about these boots for Angela? Aren't they gorgeous?!"

Tony caught up with her and only had to glance at them to know they were a hit his wallet couldn't take. "Dream on."

"I said for Angela, not me." She rolled her eyes. "Although, I wouldn't say no—"

"Forget it, Sam."

In mock surrender, Samantha threw her arms up.

Too frustrated to joke around, he shook his head. "I dunno. I'm not going to find anything."

"You're the king of gifts. You always find something great for Angela. Why are you struggling so much this year?"

"Because I'm strapped for cash with all these college courses," he answered. "And because…"

When he didn't continue, Sam interjected, "Because of your weird not-really-a-relationship-but-totally-a-relationship relationship?"

"Sam…"

"What? It's no secret. You and Angela confirmed it."

"Technically," he said, "Angela confirmed it without my consent."

"But you confirm it now."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled.

"Face it," Samantha said, "that's really the struggle, not the money. You've always managed to scrape together some extra cash."

"Fine, let's say for argument's sake that is my problem. What do you suggest I get for her?"

Coming across a bench, Samantha tugged on Tony's jacket and motioned for them to sit down. As she did this, she said, "I'm going to assume here you're gonna chicken out and avoid anything romantic."

"I'm not chickening out," he said defensively. "If I get her something like jewelry she'll take it the wrong way – like maybe I'm looking to advance our relationship."

"But Dad, you've given her jewelry before. And what about that vase a couple of years ago?"

"That was before any talk of potential marriage – maybe – someday. I could drop hints then without her thinking it meant anything."

With a sigh, she slumped back. "You two are hopeless."

"Lecture me after the new year. Help me think of something."

"I still say she'd like those boots—"

"Maybe I should ask Mona," Tony said as he stood again.

"Do you really think she'll give you a different answer?"

"What's so great about those boots?"

Sam rolled her eyes again. "I mean about Angela. Heck, she'll be worse. She'll tell you to buy her an engagement ring or lingerie."

As horrified as he was hearing the latter come from his daughter's lips, he knew she was right. "What about Jonathan?"

"Why are you asking all of us? Aside from maybe Mona, you know Angela better than anyone. You just gotta stop thinking like yourself. Pretend one of her friends came and asked you what to get her. What would you say?"

Tony thought a moment, discouraged that no immediate answer came to mind. Here he considered Angela his best friend and he couldn't so much as think of a trinket she might enjoy.

"The only things coming to mind are things I do all the time," he eventually said.

"Like what?"

"Making her favorite brownies, keeping flowers around, cooking her favorite meal… just life things. I'll already be making Christmas dinner and desserts."

"A box of her favorite chocolates then?"

Tony shook his head. "Either not special enough or too special depending on how she takes it."

"Make her a special batch of brownies all for her?"

"Nah, she'd kill me if I let her eat that many sweets."

Samantha groaned as she reiterated, "You two are impossible."

. . .

As Christmas drew nearer, Tony was still at a loss as to what to give Angela. Likewise, Angela found herself in the same predicament as she and Mona browsed through Bloomingdales for the third time that week. Only Angela had plenty of ideas, but none felt right by the time she got to the cashier.

"You know, I think Tony would look better in blue," was her current excuse for getting out of line.

"You're driving me crazy!" Mona griped. "It'll be Valentine's Day by the time you make a decision."

"Forgive me for wanting to find the perfect gift."

"He'll be happy with anything, just pick something. We were supposed to be eating dinner half an hour ago."

Angela sighed as she reached the men's department again, her eyes scanning for something in blue. "If you're so hungry why don't you go on without me. I'll meet you at the restaurant."

"Forget it, I'll be waiting until closing time."

Doing her best to ignore her mother's remarks, Angela went about her search in the same fashion she had for the past week. One moment she'd spot the perfect item, then get closer and find a flaw. Then her eye would catch something else, surely the thing to be wrapped and tied with a ribbon, then something else would look better. Then came the register and the game would start all over again.

"What do you think about this?" She held up a brown leather jacket.

"Perfect. Let's go."

"Mother, I wish you'd have some patience with me. This is Tony we're discussing."

"Yes, Tony," she said, touching the arm of the garment. "The man you're so desperately trying to impress that you're driving your mother and son crazy. Sweetheart, if buying him a car didn't win him over, no material possession will."

"I'm not trying to impress him. Not then and not now."

"Please," Mona scoffed. "The last time you had this much trouble buying something for Tony was back when you were dating what's-his-name."

"Geoffrey," Angela corrected. "And that was an entirely different situation. I was confused about my feelings for him then."

Grumpy demeanor turning to one of intrigue, Mona all but sang, "Ooh? And what feelings are those, dear?"

"Oh, you know…"

"I haven't a clue," she winked.

"What I should have said is that this year there has been some acknowledgment of our feelings – potential feelings – toward each other. Ambiguous as all of that is, I think Tony deserves something special. Of course, I can't go overboard and have him think I'm pushing."

"What's wrong with a push?"

Biting her lip, Angela tried to come up with a response that would get her mother off her back without having to reveal too much of her conversation with Tony that night in Jamaica. Though nothing as scandalous as Mona might have liked, Angela considered it personal. It wasn't easy for Tony to admit he wasn't on top of everything. She knew all too well that lost feeling of not knowing where your future is headed. Years with Michael went on that way. She never wanted Tony to feel that same kind of resent, especially not toward her. It was up to him to make the call; she'd made that resolve as they sat together on the beach. So far, she was happy with how things had progressed since then.

"It's not the time right now," was what she decided on saying. "Someday… we'll see."

Mona sighed. It was always a waiting game with them.

. . .

Christmas Eve snuck up on Tony and Angela. Angela was grateful Mona always played hooky on the eve of any major holiday and had already intended on taking the day off herself. She kept this quiet, however. This was her last full day of shopping and she was determined to settle on something – anything at this point. Mona was no help, and she was sure she'd wake up with a reptile in her bed if she dragged Jonathan to one more store.

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she failed to notice Tony's paralleled nerves as he drove her to the train.

"You all right with Sam cooking tonight?" he asked as he pulled up to the station.

"Sure, you going to Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Angela smiled. "You always visit Mrs. Rossini around this time."

"Oh, yeah."

Seeing his distance now, she questioned, "Are you all right?"

Tony perked up. "Ah, yeah. Been tryin' to remember if left the stove on. Think I'll head back to the house real quick and check."

With a nod, she thanked him and climbed out of the car. "In case I don't see you tonight… Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

He didn't drive again until she was well inside the terminal. The grin he'd put on for her sake faded once she was out of sight. He sighed as he started toward Manhattan. He hated to lie to her, but he didn't want her to suspect he was having trouble finding something for her. She'd catch on at the first inkling and tell him she didn't need anything. Mrs. Rossini wasn't happy to hear of his detour, but until he had a gift in hand for Angela, dinner would have to wait.

. . .

Come lunchtime, Tony steered clear of Angela's favorite stores in case she decided to do some last-minute shopping on her break. He wandered the side streets, looking more at his feet than in shop windows as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up. Coming across an antique and pawnshop, he ducked inside mostly to escape the cold for a few minutes, but also sending up a prayer that he would find whatever it was he was looking for.

Before he had the chance to glance at the first case, the owner approached him. "Last minute shopping?"

"Yeah."

"Looking for something in particular?"

Tony sighed. "I wish. I've been looking all over for something for someone. It's gotta be perfect – no, forget that. It needs to be something moderately thoughtful I can wrap. I've run out of time for perfect."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around today," the man chuckled. "That woman over there told me almost the same thing not five minutes ago."

Tony turned his head, going along with the distracting chit-chat in the hope he'd help him find something. He glanced away at first, then looked back when he realized the guilty face looking back at him was Angela's.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, walking over to her.

"I think he just told you," Angela replied.

"You're… looking for something for…"

"You," she finished.

Equally as guilty, he said, "Me, too. I mean, something for you."

They looked at the shop owner who shrugged apologetically as he went back behind the counter. When Tony turned back to Angela, he said, "I guess I'm kinda glad it wasn't just me struggling."

With a soft smile, she said, "Me, too."

"Don't think I haven't thought of anything for you at all. Just nothing that—"

"Felt right?" she finished again.

"Yeah."

The owner chuckled across the room. "I remember when my wife and I were going through those years. Needing something significant and trying to find the perfect gift that doesn't exist."

"We're not married," Angela corrected.

"Oh?"

Tony added, "Just friends."

The man raised an eyebrow, choosing to say nothing more.

"Do you think he's right?" Angela asked in a low voice, pulling on Tony's arm and leading him farther back in the room. "Are we trying too hard?"

"Probably, but why shouldn't we? It's us. We always make things harder than they need to be."

Angela laughed. "Tell me about it."

"What should we do?"

"Well," she hummed, "Either we run around the city until closing time or admit defeat."

With a frown, Tony said, "I hate not having something for you under the tree."

"Yeah… so do I."

The shop owner, too nosy to stay out of their hair for too long, was now beside them, startling them both when he spoke. "Why not something you both can enjoy? Pick it out together and share it – I'll even give you a deal." He winked.

"That's not a bad idea," Angela agreed, looking at Tony.

"Better than nothing," he said, though part of him still wished to surprise her.

"Wonderful!" the man cheered. "Now, I suppose you'll want something portable. I've got antique pocket watches, vases new and old, or if you want something more on the corny, nostalgic side, I've got, say, lunch tins from the sixties and seventies, you name it."

"A vase won't work," Tony said. "Got her one a couple of years ago."

Smiling at the memory, Angela then added, "It doesn't necessarily need to be portable. Why not something for the living room? That way Mother and the kids can enjoy it."

"You live together?" the man questioned.

"I'm her housekeeper," Tony clarified with a hint of annoyance.

He raised another eyebrow but wasn't about to risk a sale asking questions. He took them around the shop, pointing out different pieces of furniture. There were Hitchcock chairs, a 1930s roll-top desk, lamps, and a couple of painting when he saw he was getting nowhere with the big pieces.

"Smaller is good," Angela said. "Small but eye-catching."

Tony nodded. "I agree."

So the owner showed them more pieces: smaller lamps, trinkets ranging from tacky to elaborate… but while Angela was invested in following the owner's tour, an impatient Tony wandered off on his own.

"Hey, Angela—what about this here?"

When Angela reached his side, he pointed to one of the high shelves along the wall. On it, a wooden mantle clock.

"Oh, Tony, it's lovely!"

"It's the perfect size," he said excitedly. "It matches, too."

"Good eye," the shop owner said, rejoining them.

Linking her arms with one of Tony's, Angela said, "It's perfect. All it needs is a big red ribbon on the top."

"How much you askin'?" he asked the man, then looking at Angela again, added, "We'll split the cost fifty-fifty."

Shrugging, the owner said, "Doesn't feel right to play the part of a salesman on Christmas Eve despite your excitement… Truth be told, that thing has been collecting dust for the greater part of the year. And I already promised a deal…"

. . .

Knowing now that she'd taken the day off, Tony brought Angela along with him to Mrs. Rossini's for dinner. Aside from the children and Mona's absence, she couldn't remember a happier Christmas Eve since she was a kid. As always, Mrs. Rossini treated her like a member of the family. Gone were the days of surprise dates for Tony. She didn't feel so out of place. The Feast of the Seven Fishes leaving them stuffed, Tony and Angela sat on the couch watching a Christmas special on TV – Angela still barred from her kitchen after the fateful Thanksgiving china incident.

"Tired?" Tony asked in response to Angela's third yawn in as many minutes.

She nodded. "Haven't been getting much sleep."

"You, too?"

Again, she nodded.

With a chuckle, he said, "Why do we always go overboard? Now that we figured things out getting so worked up seems silly."

"Maybe," she said with a grin. "But kind of sweet."

"Insomnia is sweet?"

"No, I mean the fact we both wanted to make Christmas special."

"Ah, come on. Every Christmas we've spent together has been special."

Her grin instantly grew into a smile. "They have been, haven't they?"

"Even though they've all been different. It's funny. Growing up you get so locked into traditions."

"I know what you mean. When I was little my father would take the entire week off to be with me and Mother. Sometimes we'd take a trip to the mountains, or in one case the beach. Other times stay home or visit family, but we were always together, and things always had a way of playing out the same no matter where we were."

Without realization, Tony nestled closer to her. "We were always at home. A lot of times it ended up being an impromptu gathering with the neighbors, anyone who didn't have a place to go, you know? If you thought Mrs. Rossini put out a feast tonight you should have seen the stuff we ate then."

Angela laughed.

"Things changed a bit after my mother died, but my grandfather insisted we didn't mope around. Then when he died it was hard to get into the spirit. Still stayed at home, but I guess when that much time goes by the neighbors eventually move on and start families."

"Things changed after Father died, too. Mother went overboard that first Christmas without him. Presents stopped fitting under the tree and were spread throughout the room. I might have eaten it up as a little kid, but by then I was too well aware of what she was doing."

"It's funny how different Christmas feels as an adult."

"I'll say. There's so much pressure. Decorating, parties—"

"Shopping," he joked.

"The worst!" she snickered.

"But those strange years get better when you've got a kid."

"Absolutely."

"Then you make new traditions."

"To tell you the truth," she started almost shyly, "Jonathan and mine's traditions didn't start until you and Sam moved in."

"Not even when you and Michael were married?"

Angela shrugged. "Maybe for the first year or two. Then it was a matter of guessing if he'd be home for the holidays. Jonathan only cared about presents and seeing his father by the time he was five or six. With you and Samantha he's learned to see it as a time for family, even if it's been celebrated a little differently each year."

"I'm glad," Tony smiled. "I remember how excited Sam was our first Christmas in Connecticut. You can't decorate the outside of a Brooklyn apartment the same way you can a house in Fairfield. She was excited about sharing it with another kid, too. I was relieved to see her so caught up in it all given how miserable the year before was for her… for both of us. For some reason that hit harder than the first Christmas without Marie. For me anyway."

Covering his hand with her own, Angela said, "I'm grateful all of us found a new happiness together."

Both fighting back tears, their fingers intertwined, the room silent aside from the echoed clatter of pans coming from the kitchen. Neither noticed when the noises stopped nor did they hear Mrs. Rossini's footsteps coming toward them.

"What's with the long faces? We had a great meal and Joey and his wife will be by with dessert any time now. It's Christmas Eve!"

Tony and Angela laughed softly, Tony brushing his thumb beneath one of Angela's eyes where a tear had started falling.

"Just got too sentimental there for a moment," he said, shrugging things off as he stood. "Dinner was fantastic as always, Mrs. R."

Following, Angela said cheerfully, "Wonderful!"

Clasping her hands together, Mrs. Rossini said, "You two will have to come again next year. And bring the kids, too, won't ya? Christmas is a time for family."

Turning around to look at Angela, Tony said, "What do you think… a new tradition?"

"I love it," she beamed.

"Now, Tony…" Mrs. Rossini said as she pushed the two closer together, "You owe her a kiss."

"What?" was both of their responses.

A devious glint in her eyes, she looked above the window over their heads. "Mistletoe."

Tony and Angela rolled their eyes. It seemed like every year someone set them up. It started with Mona, then Samantha, and then Jonathan last year.

"I think this has become another tradition," Angela teased.

"Seems like."

This year, it wasn't difficult to lean in for that flutter of a kiss.

. . .

"I never suspected you had such an eye for antiques."

"Yeah," he said proudly. "I did good, huh?"

Tony and Angela stood back admiring their new clock Christmas Night. Mona was off to a party, Jonathan was taking his new bike for a spin, and Samantha was over at Bonnie's exchanging presents. Though neither of them would admit it, they were happy to have some time alone.

"It keeps time well, too."

"I thought it was going fast at first. The day flew by."

"Didn't it? Usually does, though."

Drawing his eyes away from the mantle, Tony turned, brushing his arm against hers. "Next year, though, I swear I'm gonna find you something. Gonna start shopping tomorrow. Should give me enough time."

Angela laughed, rolling her eyes. "I'd much rather a thoughtful gift than a gift for the sake of having a surprise under the tree."

"Aye oh, who said it wouldn't be thoughtful?"

"I mean, I don't want either of us to stress like that again," she corrected. "We're best friends. I don't know why it was so difficult."

Tony stared for a moment, wishing for the courage to speak truthfully. Alas, he avoided it, feeling too much time had passed without a response. "Because we're past simple, but past showy as well. This was our sixth Christmas."

This brought out Angela's smile. "I don't believe it's been that long. It's gone by so fast. And yet, I feel like you and Samantha have been here forever."

"I know," he agreed. "Forever in the best way possible."

Smiles lingered, then fell to contented expressions as they turned back to look at the clock once more.

After a few minutes, Angela sighed. "It won't look quite as pretty without the garland around."

"Least we still have twelve days with it this way. Well, eleven now."

"Won't you let me help put things away this year?" she offered.

"Angela… the ornament disaster of 1985…"

"I won't go near anything breakable; I promise."

"Well…"

"Tony, I can manage to take down some of the greenery."

Surrendering, he said, "Anything that doesn't involve you climbing up on a ladder."

"I am not that uncoordinated," she protested, crossing her arms.

"I'm not so sure about that, but fine, I'll humor you."

"Thank you."

"You gotta promise me one thing, though."

Eyebrows raised, she asked, "What's that?"

Before answering, he pulled on her elbow and led her over to the mistletoe that always hung above the kitchen door. "You gotta promise me that this will be the last thing you'll take down."

A furious blush colored Angela's cheeks. "Oh?"

"You should know the rules by now," he said with a smirk.

Not about to argue the point, Angela wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him more soundly than any of their previous mistletoe encounters and completely stunning Tony who took a moment before he could kiss back. As soon as he did (give or take a second), Angela pulled away, her own expression mirroring his from several seconds before.

"So," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders, "Mother's got us here, Samantha, Jonathan, Mrs. Rossini, and now you. Guess the ball's in my court now." With this comment and a flirtatious rise of her eyebrows, her arms dropped as she stepped away from him, turning around to go upstairs with one last glance at the mantle clock. When her foot touched the first step, she looked back at Tony who remained standing where she'd left him. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

Tony nodded, not daring to speak until he knew his voice would be steady. "Merry… Merry Christmas, Angela."

The end.