Twelve Days of Christmas

Monday, December 25th

(Christmas Day)

"Sam."

The singsong voice was an annoyance that Sam found she could easily ignore. Five blankets—including the very warm one from her still secret admirer—guaranteed the she was a warm and toasty as ever she could want. Shadow's hot purring form curled to her stomach helped even more, and Sam's consciousness barely brushed waking as she settled herself even further on her side, knees drawn up so close that she could feel the kitten's breath on her knees.

"Saaam."

"G'way," she managed, refusing to emerge from her safe haven from the cold.

She'd made a late night of it, sleep coming slow and sullenly as she sank into a vague melancholy. She'd inspected each gift one last time before putting them back. The jewelry was on her dresser, the pretty certificates and letters tucked into her desk drawer to keep them safe. The flowers of the blossoming persuasion were all hung in her shower to dry, and the edible variety had gone the way of her stomach days ago. Shadow was on her bed, as was the blanket, and the CD was lying on her desk with the game. Not a one had given her another clue during her inspection.

"Wake up, Sam." The chuckle did more than annoy her, but Sam kept trying to doze though the timber was low and reminded her of something. She was having a great dream about a beach, and the sun, and no snow, and no secret admirer to wreck Christmas…

"You really should wake up, Sam."

The connection came in the space of one heartbeat to another, and Sam shot upright as the familiar voice broke into a full on laugh. Her eyes were wide and she never noticed when Shadow flicked his little tail at her before hopping from the bed. After all, how could she possibly pay any attention to the kitten when Danny Phantom was lounging on the side of her bed? And she'd just woken up… Sam yelped as her hands went to smooth her hair, then she blinked rapidly, her eyes watering as he shifted from Phantom to Fenton as easy as breathing.

"Your twelve days of Christmas aren't over yet," he informed her, his voice distinctly amused.

Her hands fell, her blanket pulled tighter to her chest, and Sam's mouth fell open. "But today makes thirteen."

He shifted a little closer, smiling, strangely hesitant but eager to be near her. "I never was too good at math, Sam," he told her, his hand absently twirling something shiny through his fingers. It took an effort of will to tear her eyes away from his, for once the excuse she had to look at those bright blue eyes wasn't about to be given up.

Then he stopped, his hand out and the twinkling thing sliding across his fingers came to a stop in his palm. A ring, she saw, and it matched the rest. Pale white gold that glittered in the morning sun, and a sapphire solitaire flanked on either side by two diamonds graduating down the band. "You?" she asked breathlessly, the shock so thick that she needed to hear him say it, to confirm it though the ring was proof enough.

He nodded, and she swallowed thickly, her eyes beginning to burn as he leaned toward her. His hands were hot on her wrist, one sliding down her hand, the cool metal of the ring against her skin as he cheek pressed against hers. Sam closed her eyes, struggling to breathe calmly, to breathe at all. It was him, he was here, he was so close. The ring went easily on her finger, and there was no mistake as she realized he'd chosen the third finger of her left hand deliberately. It was almost like he wanted to stake a claim on her. It made her want to cry.

She shivered at the warmth of his breath across his ear as he whispered into it to her. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

She could have cried easily as he pulled back, but her eyes darted to the ring on her finger and Sam's breath hitched again as she brought her hand up to inspect it. It looked… right. She had to close her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them Sam's eyes pierced into his like steel. Danny was smiling at her, but it was an odd one that almost hurt to look at.

"You played me," she said softly, watching the fear and hope and regret play across his face one after the other.

He nodded, and the sudden fear in his eyes, though hidden away from his face, made her feel sick. "I did. I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to hurt you."

She looked back down at her finger and the ring decorating it. "Not just a game?" It was almost a desperate plea, Sam was sure he heard every nuance of her thoughts in those four words, but she didn't care anymore.

"Oh, no, Sam. Not just a game." He reached out to slip one hand through her short hair, cradling her cheek when she turned her face into his palm. "Sam, you're crying." The soft disbelief in his voice made her nearly choke on the sudden tears.

"I wanted it to be you," she admitted shakily. "So badly."

"Oh, Sam." Danny sounded so sorry that she almost smiled, but he leaned close to her and she found she that she couldn't move. Hell, breathing was becoming a problem again, not that Sam minded when he was so near.

Danny whispered to her then, close enough that she could almost taste his lips, "I gave you my heart a long time ago, Sam Manson. Will you keep it?"

She didn't even bother saying yes, just leaned forward as her arms wrapped around his neck to kiss him. Another day she'd realize that their first real kiss came when she was freshly awake complete with bed head and morning breath, but for now it was just enough that she was kissing him and that Danny was (quite eagerly) kissing her back.