"They cancelled. They know how much it means to my brother and they cancelled."

"Can you do it another night?" Nigel asked Karen as they approached the office.

"No," Karen said. "Between the other stuff they're doing, and me being here off and on until the 23rd, it's just impossible. And this is my brother's favourite holiday activity. Dammit." Karen seemed to be almost in tears over the disrupted plans, startling Nigel.

"Is there anyone else you can call?" Nigel asked, stopping to lean on the edge of Karen's desk as she dropped into the chair in defeat.

"Everyone's busy. You know how it is."

Nigel made a noncommittal noise. Sure, he knew theoretically how this time of year could be, but after the death of his parents and with how much he avoided his brother, his holidays tended to be quiet and solitary. He was truly looking forward to going home and settling down with a good book and not knowing what day it was until he had to show up at the office in January.

"I wish I could help," Nigel told her, half lying. God he was an awful person. He'd really rather be at home than socializing, and the only thing stopping him from doing just that were the exams he was responsible for proctoring over the next two weeks, one of which on the night in question, giving him the perfect out –

"Oh Nigel, you're here," Sydney said, coming out of her office, holding a stack of papers. "Cynthia's had a change of plans and apparently cancelled her flight. She'll be here to proctor for Professor Ambrose after all, so you have the night to yourself." Sydney handed the stack of papers to Nigel who took them, staring at his boss in the hopes that she was about to tell him she was kidding.

"Wait, that's the exam you were doing Thursday night, right Nige?" Karen's voice was slowly growing with excitement even while Nigel's stomach filled with dread. "So you're free then?"

"Free for what?" Sydney asked, looking between them curiously.

"Me and my brother always do a duo gingerbread house competition with a couple of friends and they had to cancel this year. And now Nigel can come!"

"That sounds like fun," Sydney commented absently, not realizing the danger she had just put herself in.

Karen's enthusiasm fizzled out. "It's a duo competition though. My brother's really shaky sometimes so we work in pairs. We need another person."

Nigel tamped down on the smile threatening to emerge. If he was going to get stuck doing this, so was Sydney, who had just referred to it as fun. He knew for a fact that she had a date on Thursday – more of a pity date since the guy wouldn't stop asking and she had turned out needing his help finding a relic. She had all ready told Nigel that she had planned for an earlier dinner to at least salvage some of her night as she had no expectations it would go further than that. "You're free, aren't you Syd? After your date?"

Sydney looked at him in sudden alarm and betrayal, while Karen's eyes brightened with excitement.

"Sydney, will you come? Please? It would mean so much to my brother. We're starting at seven and I'll have everything all set up. All you need to do is come."

And that was how they ended up at Karen's on a Thursday night putting together a gingerbread house.

"Nigel! I'm so glad you're here. This is my brother Daniel."

Nigel shook Daniel's hand after giving Karen his coat and the bottle of wine he'd brought, something he'd heard her talk about before and knew she'd enjoy.

"Thanks for coming. My sister has been so excited." Daniel had the same blond hair as Karen did, the same blue eyes, the same build.

"Can I get you something to drink? I've got tea, coffee, soda, beer, wine…"

Nigel accepted a beer, the bottle cold in his hand. He looked around the small space, noting that it was fairly minimalist. Not that Nigel could talk – he still barely had any furniture in his one person flat. It seemed functional for the two of them though, and it was cozy, with what looked like a handmade throw tossed artfully over a chair, and artful photographs on the walls of people and architecture. He ended up in a conversation with Daniel about the photographs and discovered he was an avid photographer, who had inherited a lot of his photography equipment from his uncle.

When Sydney arrived she rang the buzzer as Nigel had done so it was no surprise when she entered the flat, but Nigel nearly choked on his drink when she took off her coat to give it and the box she was holding to Karen. Sure he'd seen her dress up in a number of scenarios, but every time was like seeing it for the first time. Her mahogany red dress hugged her figure, the 'V' exposing what had to be an ample amount of cleavage, and the hem came down to just above her knee. Nigel's eyes trailed down to strappy black heels that were in no way appropriate for the cold weather. When she turned, the glimmer of her necklace drew his eyes back up. Her hair was in an updo, strands framing her face, and Nigel wanted nothing more than to pull the clips out and let her hair down. He blinked, bringing his focus back to Daniel who had been speaking to him.

"Sorry?"

Daniel glanced behind him to see what had Nigel's attention and laughed and Nigel was relieved that he wasn't offended by the inattention. "Yeah, I wouldn't be able to focus with her around either. She's gorgeous." Nigel didn't miss the way Daniel's eyes lingered on Sydney. "I'm going to grab a drink. You need another one?"

Nigel shook his head, recognizing that his tolerance level being what it was meant that he had to pace himself in order to avoid looking like a fool. As Daniel walked away he also tried to shake the territorial feeling in his chest. Sydney was objectively attractive and he had no claim on her whatsoever. Instead he tuned into what Sydney was saying to Karen.

"… straight from the restaurant so I didn't have time to change."

"Hm, maybe I have an apron you can use? I'll see if I can find it. Can I get you a drink?"

"You look stunning," Nigel said to Sydney as she came to stand beside him, trying to sound nonchalant. The smile he got in return made his chest ache. "How was the date?"

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Absolute bore. He wouldn't stop talking about the new car he got after his promotion. Thanks!" The last part was directed at Karen as Sydney accepted the glass of wine she was offered.

"I couldn't find an apron, sorry!"

"It's fine, I'll manage."

Nigel traded Karen his empty bottle for a new one she had brought him, thanking her as well. He took a large swig from the bottle to settle his nerves. Seeing Sydney dressed up wasn't wholly uncommon, but it was definitely distracting. The four of them chatted for a few minutes before Daniel clapped his hands to get their attention.

"Let's build these!"

Nigel had to admit that his enthusiasm was at least a little contagious, and now that he was here it wasn't worth the dread he'd been feeling earlier. Still, putting together a gingerbread house wasn't exactly part of his resume.

They gathered at the small square kitchen table, Karen and Daniel on one side and Nigel and Sydney on the opposite one, each with a small stack of gingerbread in front of them.

"We always think it's more fun to put the actual building together too, instead of buying the premade ones," Karen explained. She gestured to the middle of the table. "We have gumdrops, pretzels, candy canes, Hershey's kisses, peppermints, jellybeans, licorice bits, marshmallows, sprinkles, other chocolate pieces, M&Ms, and smarties. Um there should be some shaved coconut… oh it's there! And we have icing of course. Oh! And food colouring for the icing. We're going to set a timer for an hour. May the best team win!"

The four of them got to work.

Nigel eyed the array of sweets and gingerbread on the table, Sydney doing the same beside him.

"Have you done this before?" Sydney asked.

Nigel laughed. "Not so much. We decorated cookies one year but that was about it."

Across the table Karen and Daniel had their heads together and were whispering excitedly to each other as they picked up pieces of gingerbread and began to assemble the house.

"Okay, so a house. We can form a house," Sydney said confidently. She grabbed two pieces of gingerbread and Nigel did the same and they formed the four walls which immediately collapsed in on each other.

Nigel looked up and his eyes met Sydney's. This was going to be a long hour.

"No, peppermints on the roof. For shingles."

"Pieces of chocolate would work so much better. Leave the mints for the windows."

" Nigel." She glared at him as he reached for the pretzels.

"Syd ney."

"No, no, gumdrops for the fence."

"Who has a fence that someone could easily go over? It's got to be the pretzels."

"Everyone has a fence that someone could easily go over when you're determined to be on the other side of the fence. Besides, someone could just slip right between the pretzels."

Vaguely Nigel heard Daniel ask Karen if he and Sydney were always like this. He didn't catch Karen's response as he was too busy arguing with Sydney over the qualities of a good, sturdy, useful fence.

"Red icing for windows. Like garland."

"That's macabre. Green is more traditional anyways."

"If we're doing traditional, why is the door round? And how do you know what a traditional gingerbread house looks like?"

"I read Hansel and Gretel."

"You do the icing, I'll place the marshmallows."

"No, not there. Give me those."

After an hour Nigel had eaten more sweets than he cared to admit, just discarded items from some failed attempt much to Sydney's chagrin when she went to use the items later. He figured they would've done better if they could a) keep from bickering for more than two minutes, and b) he wasn't so sloshed. Although Sydney had been drinking steadily through the competition thanks to Karen and her willingness to ply Sydney with more alcohol (Nigel had a sneaking suspicion that Karen had planned that).

Their gingerbread house was at least standing, which seemed like an accomplishment all on its own, although Nigel was afraid to touch it. Half the roof was covered in chocolate pieces and the other half in smarties (they hadn't come to an agreement on that particular aspect), the windows were a mess of green frosting, and jellybeans made up a "brick" wall for a fence. Candy canes marked the door (the previous circular version had been removed in a renovation), and trees made with marshmallows decorated the yard. They had thought to put in a walkway made of sprinkles (okay so one of them had knocked over the sprinkles after putting down icing), and coconut shavings for "snow" was haphazardly scattered over the tray. Other bits of candy were pressed around the house in an attempt to decorate, giving it a rather chaotic look.

On the other end, Karen and Daniel's gingerbread house was brilliant. There was an obvious dedication to detail with thin lines of frosting used as snow dripping from the gumdrop roof, and the 'decorations' on the trees made from artfully placed pieces of chocolate. A simple pretzel fence surrounded the house. The other candy had been used to its utmost extent creating a gingerbread house Hansel and Gretel would happily wander into.

"Um, I think we know who the winners are," Karen said trying to hold back a laugh and largely failing.

Nigel looked at Sydney feeling like a winner anyway, his heart hammering in his chest so loud to his own ears he was surprised no one else could hear it. Her hair was falling out of its updo, framing her face, and she had a streak of icing from brushing her hair back earlier in the hour, barely noticeable except at close proximity. Seeing Sydney disheveled from an activity like building a gingerbread house was in a way more intimate than seeing her naked, especially with how comfortable she was in her own skin.

Sydney looked up to see him watching her and grinned back at him easily.

The wall that he had erected to keep his feelings for Sydney at bay always felt too thin in moments like this. How easy it would be to reach over and brush her loose strands of hair behind her ears. How badly he wanted her to look at him as she was now but all the time. How much he wanted to have been the one to take her on a date and then still come to build gingerbread houses with friends just because. Or rather, have to cancel because they couldn't wait to get home and they'd rather be lost in each other than covered in gingerbread and icing.

"You're taking this home, right?" Karen asked, interrupting Nigel's musing and he shoved his thoughts of Sydney back into the recesses of his mind. He and Sydney turned to her as one to argue that they couldn't possibly take their structure home.

The four of them cleaned up, Karen and Daniel teasing Sydney and Nigel about their attempt at decorating a candy house, while explaining why the event was so important to them. It was another hour later that found Nigel slumped on the couch next to Sydney, falling asleep on her shoulder that Sydney suggested they leave Karen and Daniel to their night.

"Merry Christmas!" Karen shouted down the stairway as they left, trying to get away before Karen could force them into taking their disastrous attempt at a gingerbread house.

Nigel found himself immediately more alert at the blast of cold air that greeted them as they left the Petrusky flat to find snow falling fast and hard. Sydney's car, or at least what he thought was Sydney's car, had fallen victim to the onslaught of snow and was quite buried. Nigel didn't relish the thought of digging it out.

"I don't think I should be driving," Sydney announced after Nigel stumbled into her and she nearly fell over as well, the two of them grabbing onto each other's arms to steady themselves. While Sydney's tolerance was higher than most people he knew, he was pretty sure she had had a drink or two on her date before showing up at Karen's. Add that to the blizzard they had walked into and driving just wasn't an option.

Nigel laughed. "Probably not." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease when this time of year was usually tense and stressful; the memory of his parents haunting many of the traditional holiday activities, so much so that he tended to avoid them at all costs. "I'd offer but erm, I think I'm a bit pissed. Not too much though, I could still translate anything you need me to," he said proudly. He blushed at the look Sydney gave him, momentarily grateful for the cold and the wind. He had had too much to drink for a proper analysis, but he thought the look was fond.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need to do any translating tonight, Nige. I'll um, call a cab. Hopefully they haven't stopped running. Where are we?" Sydney asked as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse.

Nigel looked around them. "Market Street and Blackthorn. No, wait. Blackhall," he corrected, squinting at the sign. He took the opportunity to observe Sydney as she made the call. Her eyes were bright with the excitement of the evening, and her hair swung as she turned, moving to keep warm. It was then that he caught sight again of the smear of icing on her cheek, forgotten after Karen's attempt to ply them with more sugar than they could stand. "You've got some icing. Here." Nigel gestured at his cheek once she hung up, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

Sydney swiped her hand across her cheek but missed, looking to Nigel for confirmation that her cheek was clean.

Without thinking, Nigel ran his gloved left thumb over Sydney's cheek to get rid of the frosting. He paused when he realized exactly how close they were, his hand still cupping her face and their breaths mingling in the air between them. Nigel licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to Sydney's and his chest constricted when he noticed her do the same. He felt reckless and confident (and definitely sloshed), and he needed to know if she tasted like the jellybeans he had caught her eating when she should've been decorating or if she solely tasted like wine. He could see the pigments of makeup on her skin, see the flecks of gold in her eyes from the surrounding streetlights, feel her warm breath on his mouth. His nose brushed against hers. Every fibre of his being was thrumming in anticipation as the gap between them closed –

The sudden flood of lights from a car's headlamps flared over them. Sydney let go of the lapels of his coat as though burned and Nigel let his arms drop and stepped back, heat flooding his face once again. He didn't remember Sydney grabbing his coat just as he didn't remember his right hand coming up to rest on her waist.

Sydney turned to watch the car as it trundled down the street and ran a hand through her hair, her attempts to collect herself visible even to Nigel who was very much caught up in his own thoughts.

Panic bubbled in his chest. He had almost kissed his bestfriendbosscoworker. He opened his mouth several times to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind other than his grandmother telling him Close your mouth love, or you'll catch flies. He shut his mouth finally with a snap, giving up for the moment.

"There are no cabs running," she said to him after a moment, breaking the silence between them. She was still turned in the direction of the car.

"My place," Nigel squeaked out impulsively.

Sydney jerked her head to look at him.

Nigel cleared his throat. "My place is close enough for us to walk to. I still don't have a couch or a guest room but we'll figure something out. Go with the flow, right? And we've done it before. Not 'it' but shared a bed, and it's fine. Again, not 'it' but that. Sharing a bed, I mean. Not the other thing. Not that I wouldn't…" he trailed off at the look Sydney was giving him, one eyebrow arched as she waited for him to stop talking. "Right."

He was suddenly grateful for the cold, and being able to blame the flush of his cheeks to that. For her part, Sydney seemed to pull herself together through his little speech and was herself once again, her 'go with the flow' attitude continuing to serve her well.

Nigel's flat wasn't far, but the wind and accumulating snow made the twenty minute walk into more of a thirty minute walk that felt like an eternity and he found himself wishing for a sudden call to whisk the two of them away to Nicaragua or Prague on the hunt for a nice old relic. Both to get out of the cold, and for a distraction from the near kiss, thoughts of which swirled around his head like the snow around them. He risked a sideways glance at Sydney who was walking with her head bowed against the weather, her gloved hands shoved into her pockets, her purse over her shoulder. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was thinking about that moment, and if he said he wanted to talk about it would she brush it off like she usually did with this type of thing? It was as he looked down at the ground to avoid looking at her that he remembered with a shudder that she was wearing, of all things, heels that were definitely not suitable for this weather. He made a mental note to start a fire when they got back.

"It's a bit nippy in here still, sorry," he told her, toeing off his wet shoes as he followed her through the door. "The landlord's been a bit of a twat about fixing the heating but I do have the fireplace. I'll get that going. You must be freezing. You can, erm, grab some clothes if you'd like." Nigel felt his face flush again. At this rate he was going to burst a blood vessel. He pointed to the dresser across the room.

Nigel busied himself with the pilot light, trying to make it work. The fireplace had been acting up recently but wasn't something he was concerned enough with to bother his landlord about. Until now.

"Pants?" Sydney asked.

"Top drawer," he called back absentmindedly as he fiddled with the light. Behind him he could hear Sydney pulling open drawers.

"Thanks."

The fire finally going, Nigel stood and turned to find Sydney much closer than expected.

"Do you mind?" Sydney asked, turning her back to him and pulling her hair, now down from its updo, to the side to expose the zipper and clasp.

Nigel gulped and stepped forward. At this point he was aware that she enjoyed teasing him, and he could admit that he made quite an easy target. But this felt like a cosmic joke when his thoughts were being consumed by the thought of his lips on hers. He touched his fingers to the clasp and worked it open, his fingers brushing over cool skin and tingling at the contact. As he gripped the zipper, he was acutely aware of how intimate this was – Sydney in his flat after a night out of drinking, fire flickering merrily behind him as he pulled down the zipper. He'd done this before, many times now to the point where he only half-jokingly wondered how she took off her dresses when she was home alone. But here, in his own personal space, the tension in the air was palpable and he could feel goosebumps on his arms that had nothing to do with the cold. He stepped back again, giving her space but unable to drag his eyes away.

He was definitely not as drunk as he had been, the walk and cold doing wonders, but it was hard to reign in his thoughts. Whether because of the alcohol or the scent of her perfume he wasn't sure.

With her usual nonchalance Sydney let the straps of her dress slide off her shoulders and the material pooled at her feet, exposing her bare back. No bra, lace knickers, and miles of smooth brown skin that was begging him to press his lips to. She pushed her hair back as she bent to retrieve the clothes she had picked out from the chair she had placed them on and Nigel was surrounded by the smell of her perfume.

"Drink?" he croaked, moving towards the kitchen to distract himself before he did something monumentally stupid like try to kiss her again.

"Sure."

Nigel pulled out the bottle of whiskey Preston had sent him for his birthday. He had taken it as a sign of Preston showing off his own success as well as a lack of care for Nigel's preferences, but found himself giving rare thanks to his brother as he poured a couple of fingers into two glasses.

His mouth went dry as he turned, a glass of amber liquid in each hand, to see Sydney wearing his favourite tan jumper, the hem not quite reaching mid-thigh. Beneath the jumper he could see just a thin strip of fabric as though she was wearing –

Bugger the difference between British and American English. Although at the same time he knew that she knew the difference and had likely decided not to correct herself – or him – on purpose, confirmed when she looked up from where she was browsing through his records and gave him a smile that was far too innocent. Sydney Fox in his flat and wearing his pants – his undergarments – wasn't something he had thought he'd have to contend with. The shirt, while modest considering her everyday wear, was all the more obscene for it. Form fitting on him, on Sydney it was rather large, hiding much of her figure. Her breasts, however, tugged at the material, her nipples showing, and he found himself following the shape with his eyes.

"You have quite a record collection."

"Hmm?" he focused on her face to find her attention on the back of a record sleeve. Either she hadn't noticed his staring or had decided to ignore it as he was sure she had in the past. "Oh, yeah, erm," he made his way over to her and handed her one of the glasses. Funny, he had never realized that in three years Sydney had never been in his flat long enough to actually look through his belongings, always rushing him out the door to the next hunt. "My dad used to love listening to records. He and mum used to put one on and just dance. Fast or slow, whatever they were in the mood for." He smiled at her when she caught his eye. "Preston wasn't as keen on the records as I was so they were essentially the one expense I allowed myself when I came here."

"Including the record player?"

Nigel chuckled. "That was a yard sale find." Sydney raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "I happened to be up early one morning." He frowned slightly. "It does have a tendency to stop in the middle of a record though. I'm still fiddling with it."

He watched her as she continued to browse the collection, taking in just how soft she was in the firelight in an oversized sweater. Rarely did she let her guard down although it happened more and more – breakfast at her place after sharing a cab following a red-eye flight home, late nights spent watching a movie after grading papers, going to local events and shows together. Here she was, her hair falling gently around her face, his fingers itching to brush it back behind an ear, her eyes glittering in the warm glow of the fire.

Sydney set down her glass and selected a record from the shelf, placing it onto the turntable before setting the needle. Distracted, he started when he recognized the notes of his mum's favourite – Victor Trachsel's "I'm Glad There is You". Of all the records on the shelf, he hadn't expected her to pick that one.

Before he could think better of it, Nigel drained his glass and placed it next to Sydney's before taking her hand and pulling her gently towards him, his other hand landing on her waist. Although she remained stiff, Sydney allowed him to pull her close, her free hand coming up to his shoulder almost automatically, her eyes searching his. He held her gaze and began to sway, his stomach knotted with nerves, waiting for her to either step back and reinforce the distance between them or for her to push him away. To his surprise she relaxed, the hand that was sitting so formally on his shoulder sliding around to his back pulling him closer, until there seemed to be no space between them at all but for their clasped hands held between their chests. Sydney rested her head against his and Nigel closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe her in. The fading scent of her perfume mixed with that of her shampoo and a scent that he associated entirely with her was both comforting in its familiarity and arousing. For a moment, just a moment, he could believe that this was something they did on a regular basis.

Hiding his feelings for her was becoming more and more difficult. From the very first hunt for Buddha's bowl he had been madly in love with her. How could he not? From her selflessness in easily handing over a relic that could earn her millions, to her intelligence, her passion for history, her bravery, and her sense of absolute confidence, she was one in a million. And that hadn't changed the more time he spent with her. She continued to captivate and delight him every day, inspired him in ways no one else ever had.

And maybe dancing with her was too much of a risk, if not to their friendship then to his ability to keep his feelings to himself. There were moments when he wanted to tell her, the closest being when they were buried in the sand and he had rambled on like an idiot. Whether she had believed him and never brought it up as a kindness, or brushed it off as the ravings of a man who believed he was about to die, he wasn't sure. And telling her scared her more than any situation they had ever been in. Losing her very presence in his life was something that he never wanted to contemplate.

Neither of them moved as the song ended, Nigel desperately hoping that the turntable wouldn't malfunction, with no luck. They paused, the sound of their breaths unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet room. Usually relying on Sydney for his cue, he lifted his head from where it still rested against hers and turned slightly to look at her, meeting her eyes as she did the same. The two of them were still so close he could feel every breath, could smell the whiskey he had given her, could see every eyelash, every imperfection in her makeup after hours of wear. Tension permeated the air, sending sparks all through his body. Inadvertently his eyes flickered to her lips in time to see her tongue swipe along her lips. The sight sent a wave of arousal through him, and his breath hitched ever so slightly.

"Nigel." They were so close that even as she spoke, barely making a sound at all, her lips brushed ever so lightly against his.

He didn't know who closed the final millimetre of space between them, but they were kissing.

In his wildest and most hopeful daydreams he had thought their first kiss would be passionate, desperate, impatient. They would be so caught up in their emotions from finding the relic, or surviving against odds that they wouldn't be able to resist.

Instead the kiss was intentional and unhurried as though they had all the time in the world. Her lips soft and pliant under his in a way he hadn't expected as she let him lead. When she didn't push him away he released her hand to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, finding it as silky as he had imagined it earlier. His other hand he placed more firmly at her back, closing the last of the distance between them. Her free hand slid up his chest to the back of his neck where she stroked him with her thumb, finding a spot that he didn't know was connected directly to his groin until that moment.

His lips parted in a silent gasp, and that was apparently all the invitation she needed to take over as she tugged his bottom lip gently between her teeth before licking inside his mouth and deepening the kiss. Every fibre of his being was hyper aware of the way her body felt pressed against his, of her soft curves and lean muscle, of her hands as they slid down his chest to slip under his shirt, her nails scratching lightly along his stomach. He was sure she could feel that he was half-hard all ready, pressing into her stomach as he was. Pulling away, Nigel began to place kisses along her jaw, the hand on her head shifting to grip her hair, tugging just enough for her to expose her neck so he could press open mouthed kisses there, his grip tightening as she whimpered. His other hand moved from her back to her side and up, not quite touching her breast.

"Nigel," Sydney gasped.

He hummed in response but didn't let up.

"Nigel, I need this off, now," and he suddenly realized she was yanking at the hem of the jumper he was wearing, pulling it up. Reluctant to remove his mouth from her body he pulled back and obediently lifted his arms to allow her to remove both the jumper and the undershirt.

Desperate to have his lips on hers again he pulled her back in to kiss her, both hands cupping her jaw, not drifting from there even as her own palms left trails of heat along his torso.

Sydney pushed him back just enough to break the kiss, hands resting on his shoulders. He let his hands fall to his sides. " Nigel," Sydney bit out. Her eyes searched his face and whatever she saw there gave her pause. "What is it?"

He struggled to piece together what she was saying, distracted as he was by the way her lips felt against his, the way her hands felt on his bare skin. Her pupils were nearly black with arousal, her lips swollen and wet, her breaths coming in soft pants to match his own, his attention drawn to her breasts as they heaved gently with every inhale. His eyes wandered back up to meet hers finding the exasperation still there, plain as day, familiar and grounding. He took a breath.

"Should we talk about this?"

Sydney stared at him. "You want to talk now?"

"Syd, I don't want a – a – I don't want this to change things with – with us." He ran a hand through his hair. "For – for the worst, I mean. And I don't want it to be because we – we're tipsy and – I'm not but I don't want to do this and for you to regret it."

"I'm not – Nigel, I –" Sydney stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest instead, and turned her head, avoiding his eyes.

As he waited for her to speak he crossed his arms over his own chest, abruptly aware of his state of undress. The knot in his stomach had formed again and had spread to his chest, anxious as he was to know whether she was about to tell him this was all a mistake.

She growled in frustration. "I'm not tipsy." Sydney licked her lips, Nigel automatically tracking the movement. "I want this." She met his eyes. "I want you Nigel. It's been… We've…" She looked away again.

At her admission he tugged her arms free and brought her close again, running his hands along her arms. She returned her hands to his torso, her touch light but sending jolts of electricity through him.

She took a deep breath, and seemed to choose her words carefully. "I like sex, Nigel, and I like attractive men, and falling into bed is easy. But the adrenaline fuelled moment doesn't last." Sydney smiled ruefully at him. "My love life has always been brief flings that don't amount to anything. It just doesn't work out. Either they end up being someone other than who I thought they were – you've met some of them – or my work gets in the way. It's different, with you. We've been working together long enough that I actually know you. I trust you. And that's not – I don't trust a lot of people. And I think it's grown into something more than just trust. I – I don't just want to get into bed with you." Her eyes wandered down his chest, and his gut twinged in response. He tamped down the urge to just kiss her, needing her to know exactly where he stood.

"Look. I want you, Syd, all of you. Not just right now, but tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that. I want to go to museums and argue about what the exhibits got wrong, and then argue over which takeout order to get. I want you to drag me shopping where I have to carry all your bags, and I want to see you in the morning, before you've had your coffee when your hair is mussed." He had told her he didn't want things to change between them and he meant it. He only wanted to add to what was all ready there.

Sydney rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched as though she was trying not to smile. "Nigel, we do that all ready."

Something in the way she said it loosened the tightness in his chest, settled the nerves under his skin. "I want to be able to do this," he kissed her lightly, her eyes fluttering closed, "when I see you."

"Mmm maybe not in the office," Sydney countered after a moment, opening her eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked, hesitant as though he could be anything but sincere in something like this. "It's not the whiskey talking?"

Nigel shook his head. "I've never been so sure in my life." A strand of Sydney's hair had fallen forward and he tucked it back behind her ear, letting his fingers trail lightly down her neck, pleased when she shivered. He traced her jaw, his thumb coming to press against her still swollen lips, and his cock twitched as she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the digit. "I maybe needed the drink for a bit of liquid courage, but this… I've wanted this. I've wanted you. I know you."

She pulled him back in to kiss him, her tongue immediately sliding into his mouth, and this time he didn't hesitate to run his hands under her top, feeling smooth skin that he'd seen but never touched. His thumbs brushed the under each of her breasts and he had a sudden need to see, to look without fear of being caught.

Nigel yanked at the jumper she wore, breaking away from her just long enough to wrench the offending article over her head. Her breasts were smooth, her nipples dark and hard despite the lack of attention so far. He squeezed a breast in each palm, wondering at the softness, his head jerking up as Sydney gasped, her fingers stilling where they were working on his belt buckle.

"Off, now," she demanded, and he obeyed as quickly as he could, shucking trousers and pants so they pooled at his feet. He stepped out of them and ripped off his socks, nearly losing his balance when he looked up to find Sydney shedding the borrowed pants, leaving her naked. She was gorgeous. He'd known that from the very first day, had it reconfirmed each time he saw her with little to no clothing. Now, allowed to look, he was able to fully appreciate the contrast of soft curves and lean muscle. From the cut of her collarbones to the flat planes of her stomach, and her sculpted calves she was perfect.

When he dragged his eyes back to her face he found her doing the same thing and he flushed under her scrutiny for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. He had spent years trying to avoid being nude in front of her and now here he was.

"You have a nice body," she said before kissing him soundly, pressing herself against him. In all the years she's said that to him he'd thought she was just placating him, but the way her hands roamed over him, touching him everywhere she could reach told him otherwise. He tried to do the same as they fell into bed.

She collapsed on top of him and Nigel immediately wrapped an arm around her, holding her in place as they each caught their breath.

Before he could ask if she was okay, Sydney extricated herself from his arm and off of him, slipping out of bed. His heart hammered in his chest as he wondered if she was so disappointed in him that she was going to leave in the middle of the night without so much of a 'see you later', but she simply went into the loo, leaving him alone to pull back the comforter and slide under the sheet with his thoughts.

Despite their conversation earlier he couldn't help the lingering doubts that she really wanted to be there, that anything was going to change other than a future full of awkwardness as they avoided each other and distanced themselves, until she went on hunts without him and he went back to England to live with his brother because –

He tracked her movements as she left the toilet, panic building when she didn't come back to bed, but she only turned off the fireplace and then the light, throwing the space into darkness. He could barely make her out, but she came back to the bed with the air of someone all ready familiar with their surroundings, the dark not a bother to her. Her ease didn't shock him – she spent more time in unfamiliar places than in her own home.

She joined him under the sheet and to his surprise immediately attached herself to his side, leg thrown over one of his and cold toes tucked under the other with one arm draped across his chest. Her head rested on his pillow and he could feel each exhale on his neck. Nigel pushed his arm underneath her to wrap both arms around her, revelling in the feeling of her body relaxed against his.

"Goodnight, Nigel," came Sydney's quiet voice.

"'Night, Syd."

Suddenly those silly little Christmas traditions like building gingerbread houses didn't seem so bad. After all, Karen had probably given him the best Christmas present he could've received.