He took off as fast as his feet could carry him, slipping through the snow as he tried to run yet again from Amanda and her warm, loving ways. Still feeling the effects of the alcohol, and brain-fried and numb beyond belief, he made tracks around the side of the house, desperate to avoid the entire situation. Needing to make sure she hadn't opened the door and started to follow him, he glanced backward while running around the house at breakneck speed.

He spun into the trashcans at the side of the house, upsetting each of them with a clatter loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. The secret agent fell flat on his ass, only to get hit on the head by one of the huge metal cans as it came spiraling downward. Garbage rained down on him after his collision had sent it flying. He sat there in the cold snow, hurting, dejected, drained and defeated.

"LEE!" Amanda hissed in the same tone that she'd used every time she'd found him in a less-than-presentable condition. She rounded the corner, having come from the side door, knowing that was the only way to head him off. She purposefully didn't ask him what he was doing here, for she knew full well, and didn't want to embarrass him any further. He valued his pride more than most anything else.

Instead, she sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. To her surprise, he leaned his head over onto her shoulder, crying softly. Not saying anything, she rocked with him, back and forth, and side to side, gently soothing him and letting him get it all out. After several minutes, he quieted down a bit, and she tenderly brushed his hair back, removing a frozen lettuce leaf and flicking out some coffee grounds as she did so.

"Would you like to come inside?" she asked softly. She smelled the alcohol on his breath. She'd never seen him in the depths of such despair.

All of a sudden, Lee felt the alcohol bubbling up in his stomach. He lurched forward onto his hands and knees, retching and hurling his liquid lunch and dinner into the snow on the other side of the walk. Her heart being torn apart, Amanda got to her feet and watched helplessly as his sides heaved in and out whenever a fresh wave of nausea hit him. She finally knelt down and supported his sweat-drenched forehead in her hand as he emptied himself. At long last, he wobbled and fell against her.

Somehow, she got them both so they could sit with their backs against the house in the cold, dark, snowy evening. She took his hand in hers and held it on her lap.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

"I was hoping you'd come by tonight," she smiled at him. "Would you like to tell me what's going on?"

His eyes closed briefly, and his head shook in an almost imperceptible "no."

"Would you like to come inside?" she asked again.

This time, he nodded his head in a barely recognizable "yes."

She helped him get to his feet, then stood in front of him, both his hands clasped in hers. "I'm glad you're here, Lee!" She brushed some more of the trash off him.

He couldn't believe it. Here he was, drunk as hell, wearing garbage and smelling like puke, and she was glad he was here!

"I'm always happier when you're around," she smiled broader this time, giving him the opportunity to speak if he decided to.

He took a deep breath. "And I'm happier when I'm with you," he admitted. "I always have been, Amanda."

"It takes time, doesn't it?" She reached up and brushed some of the tears from his cheeks. He nodded quietly.

"Let me ask, are you here possibly because you wanted to have a nice, quiet Christmas Eve?"

It took him a while, but he answered. "As long as it's with you." He lowered his head, afraid of what he needed to say, like someone in a confessional. "I want to be with you all the time."

Her heart leaped. "Me too," she agreed. His smile lit up the darkened corner of the house, and he squeezed her hands tighter. She decided it was time. "Are you thinking that maybe it's time we considered taking our friendship to the next level?"

Lee about pissed himself when he heard her say exactly what he was too afraid to even think. Instead, he swallowed hard and looked away, afraid. Amanda knew what his answer would be before he looked back at her, though, and when he finally did, he nodded his head quietly. He was very sure, but unable to admit it, afraid of what she'd say, how she'd react.

As always, she knew how to reach him and not send him spiraling. "I'm glad, Lee." She reached up on tiptoe and gave him a peck on his lips. Now he smelled of alcohol AND vomit, but it didn't matter to her. "As long as we get to the next level by taking the stairs and not the elevator." She heard him exhale a huge sigh in relief. No pressure, no sudden events, just nice and steady. "It's going to be OK, Lee," she assured him. "I promise you."

He about collapsed into her arms. He wanted to ravage her right there and then, on the middle of Maplewood Drive, on Christmas Eve night, to tell her exactly how he felt about her. But he'd come close enough for now. He was extremely happy.

"Shall we go in?" he asked, clearing his throat. "It's pretty damn cold out here."

"And you're a mess!" she exclaimed, taking his arm and leading him towards the door.

"What about the trash?" he suddenly said, remembering. "I need to pick that up."

"We'll do it tomorrow," she said. "No hurry." She turned to him again. "Other things are more important."

She led him into the house, and immediately started guiding him towards the stairs.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his anxiety starting to surface.

"You need a shower," she told him, "And your clothes need to be washed."

He was in no shape to argue; he knew she was right.

"Besides, you're not leaving tonight, so get yourself used to that idea too. You're staying here with me."

"What?" he exclaimed, suddenly agitated and alarmed. "Why?"

"Because you're drunk, and I'm not letting you drive. Period. End of discussion." Her expression softened a little. "Besides, you came over here to see me, and we're going to have a nice Christmas Eve together."

He could hardly argue with that loving logic. Here he'd gotten what he wanted and yet he was still fighting it.

"What am I supposed to wear?" he asked, still being stubborn and very Lee-like. "The boys' stuff is too small, and Joe is way shorter than I am, if any of his things are still here."

Amanda smiled, ready to counter. "Daddy was quite tall, like you," she said. "Mother kept some of his things around for emergencies, and just because she couldn't bear to part with them. I have just the thing for you."

Lee laughed. "I can hardly wait," he said with just a touch of sarcasm. "It best not be something old man and plaid."

"You'll see," she told him. "I think you'll really like it!"

She got him to the bathroom and took him inside. She pulled a fresh towel and washcloth out of the linen closet, along with a new cake of soap, and put them on the sink. Then, she looked at him, waiting. He looked back at her, miffed.

"I need your clothes," she said.

"Oh, OK," Lee responded as he stepped out of his shoes and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, being careful not to let any trash or barf that might be sticking to it to fall off onto the bathroom rug. Amanda took it and rolled it up into a ball, holding it in her hands. His naked torso was reflected in the mirrors, and now there were shirtless Lees all throughout the bathroom. The smooth skin of his back and chest gleamed in the bright light. Amanda found herself a little weak in the knees.

Relieved to be rid of the wet, smelly shirt, Lee bent over and pulled off his socks, then placed them on the pile accumulating in Amanda's arms. He pulled his belt out of his jeans, unzipped them, and without thinking, stepped out of them and handed them to Amanda as well. He stopped suddenly, and his shocked expression told her he'd forgotten what he was doing, where he was, and who he was doing it in front of. For her, it was just further clarification of just how comfortable they were with each other. Lee stood in the middle of the bathroom now, wearing only a pair of light-blue boxers with white binding along the edges.

"I – uh – I need – " he started, looking at the toilet.

"Say no more," Amanda answered. "Just toss 'em outside when you're done. I'll be waiting."

She left him in the bathroom, and he closed the door behind her. It was only a second or two till she heard his strong stream hitting the water in the toilet bowl. She walked over to the laundry room and started putting his clothes in the washer, pocketing his keys before starting the water running and adding some laundry soap. She heard the toilet flush and returned to the closed door.

"You ready?" she asked. She could hear the shower running. "I need the rest of your clothes!"

"NO!" was Lee's immediate, terse response.

"UNDERWEAR, STETSON!" Amanda commanded, combining her mother's voice with that of Col. Robert Clayton, USAF, expertly. "Countless other women have seen and held your shorts and you're afraid to give them to me?"

"Other women aren't you, Amanda," he thought to himself.

The door opened a crack and a masculine hand appeared, blue boxers in hand. Laughing to herself, Amanda took them and added them to the rest of the laundry before going into her mother's room and opening her late father's closet. She found what she was looking for and took out a beautiful, plush red robe, and a pair of expensive, tailored red and green plaid flannel pajamas. The red robe matched the red of the pajamas exactly. She looked at them lovingly. Plaid or not, they were quite festive, and she knew Lee would like them.

Lee was in the shower when she got to the bathroom. She knocked, opened the door, and trying not to look at the flesh-colored figure twisting behind the textured glass, set her father's nightwear on the sink. He apparently hadn't heard her, for he kept showering without interruption.

Amanda went downstairs, and hid his keys next to the marshmallows, where no one would be able to find them. She turned on the simmer pot with spices, oranges, and cranberries, then put some water on for tea, and lastly checked to make sure that there was ginger ale chilling in the fridge, for nothing soothed an upset stomach, or a hangover, like ginger ale. Looking around the kitchen further, she tried to think what Lee might like to eat, for she knew he hadn't had solid food in his stomach all day.

She made herself a cup of tea and was just settling down onto the sofa in the front room, listening to the carols on the stereo, when Lee came down the stairs. She gasped, he looked so amazing! Freshly showered and his hair combed, he'd laid aside the pajama top and was wearing just her father's plush red robe, tied loosely at the waist, and the pajama pants. He looked like a new man, one that could easily be found in the men's section of the winter Sears catalogue. "It smells amazing in here!" he smiled.

Amanda got up and took him by the arm, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Would you like some tea?" she asked. Her eyes never left him. "You look incredible," she told him softly.

"I feel incredible," he admitted. "So much better!" He gave her a chaste kiss as well. "Yes, tea would be great!"

Minutes later, both of them seated on the sofa next to each other, they were quiet for a while. Lee was relaxed and happy, and Amanda was the same.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him.

"Not really. More exhausted than anything."

She put down her tea and cuddled closer into him, sliding her hand between the folds of his robe and resting it on his bare chest. She felt his skin go goosebumps.

"Are you sure about what you said earlier?" he asked tentatively.

She decided she was going to make him say it. "Sure about what?" she smiled up at him.

This time, he didn't evade the issue. "About taking our relationship to the next level," he said without missing a beat.

"Oh, you bet I am!" Amanda grinned up at him, beautiful as ever. He let his head lean down into hers as her fingers played on his chest.

"I'm glad," he said. "Because I'm sure, too."

They talked for several hours, Lee feeling increasingly more comfortable in her father's clothes, spending time in Amanda's house, and letting her serve him more tea, make him some scrambled eggs, and sharing their first kiss at midnight when Christmas Eve's magic turned into the incredible glory of Christmas Day.

"Amanda," he then said, fighting sleep. "I've got to call it a night. This has been literally the best Christmas Eve of my life, but I'm going to go comatose in about two minutes."

"Me too," she replied, as she got up from the sofa and began to outen the lights. "You ready to go up?"

Lee stiffened. "Up where?" he asked. He may have been drunk, but he distinctly remembered they had agreed to take things slowly.

"To the bedroom, Lee. Where we sleep."

"I know that, Amanda, but . . . . "

"Do you think I'm going to sleep on the couch in my own home? No way, buster!" she grinned, playing with him. "And the "senior agent always gets the bed" thing doesn't apply here. We're both tired, you won't fit on the couch, and there's nothing like sleeping in a real bed. On Christmas."

She took his hand and pulled him off the sofa and into her arms. "We're going upstairs, Lee," she informed him again.

He started to protest, then gave it more thought. Hadn't he wanted this? To spend Christmas Eve with the woman he loved? THERE! His brain exploded like choirs of angels. He'd admitted it to himself. He loved Amanda King! And he was here, in her house, pretty much her boyfriend. The valor in him told him this wouldn't be easy, but he was willing to make the sacrifice for her, who had done so much for him. Her fierce loyalty, gentle loving, selfless giving, instinctive trust, and wonderful intuition had disarmed him totally.

They ascended the stairs, their arms wrapped around each other's waists. Amanda turned on the soft light next to her bed, and it permeated the room with a warm glow. She turned down the covers and watched as Lee untied his robe and laid it carefully over the desk. There he was, half naked, getting ready to get into bed with her. He looked at her soulfully, wistfully almost . . .

She climbed into bed and patted the soft sheets next to her. Lee joined her without further hesitation, and she snuggled into his embrace, her hand resting on the dark nipple crowning his left pec and her head on his shoulder. "This feels nice," she said in her soft, lilting voice. "Very natural!"

"It does, doesn't it?" he murmured.

"Tonight didn't quite turn out like you thought it would, did it?" she asked, almost to herself. "Are you OK with that?"

When he didn't answer, she looked over at him, and saw that he was fast asleep already, a smile on his lips.

"Merry Christmas, Lee!" she whispered. "May your every dream come true!"