bluetears07 | Merry Christmas!

Title: Bay Window
Disclaimer: Ever so sorry boys…the stuff in here never happened.
Paring: Sean A./Elijah (Slight Elijah/omc during opening scene)
Rating: PG-13-R (Colorful Language/Sexual Situations)
Summary: AU: (Elijah’s Point of View) There’s a lot you can see when you are looking through one window into another.
AU Description: In New York City, December, 2004, both Sean and Elijah live in twin apartments across the street from one another—neither knows the other, save for what they’ve seen through their windows.
AN: Well…A while ago I saw that the wonderful

rakshi was imploring any Seanlijah girls to write a fic for her for the holidays. So I thought that since a year ago in December I was first drawn into the RPS world (Seanlijah to be exact *wink*) by her beautiful fics I knew that I had to write this for her. I hope it’s okay that it’s an AU, but a holiday one that’s complete with snowy N.Y.C. Also, I hope no one will be offended by any (excessive) profanity that our foul mouthed Lij uses in his telling of this story—just wanted to warn ya’ll first.
Guide: Daydreams
++++++++++++++++
Bay Window

December 19th:

“Mmmm, Lij…” The sound of his breathy moan, muffed by the moist flesh of my jutting collar bone, buzzed faintly in the back of my mind. It sounded as if he were a thousand miles away; for all that I felt he might as well have been. Not a single light was on in my apartment, yet the dull, yellow glow of a nearby streetlight was filtering through the thin layer of frost clinging to the windowpanes where my gaze was fixed.

His back was nearly banging against the freezing glass as he tore frantically in the pseudo-light at the rusted clasp of my tight, faded jeans. Though he neither noticed nor cared, far too occupied with undressing my lithe body, my hands were no where near his eager flesh. The palm of one was pressed gently against the frosted glass of the window. The very tips of my fingers quickly flushed a rosy red as blood rushed to heat them as they spread out against the glass.

Not even the sensuous glide of his sticky lips kissing down my chest could penetrate through the thick fog consuming my mind and register as a tactile sensation that should be making my cock hard as fuck. His covetous fingers grasped my still hips as he slowly began to trail nips down my midriff, pulling at the soft fabric of my boxers as he knelt down before me. However, every last sensation had been pushed completely into the background by the all-too captivating vision across the street.

Trust me, if you’d have seen him, all bathed in pale moonlight and muted gold lamplight, you would have been awestruck too.

Even from the distance between my window across the street and his, I could see the perfect, gentle curvature of his back through the thick, knit sweater as he bent to pick up something from his coffee table. He looked older than me, but then again I have never looked my age; perpetually a child, my little Lijah. I watched with bated breath as he sat down on a dark sofa and began to read in the dim lamp light of his own, much more expensive, apartment.

It was such an alluring, domestic image that I suddenly wanted, no, needed to be a part of. Oh, to just sit down with someone you really loved and simply sip tea or read a book in comfortable silence…I didn’t want to be just some geeky fag, archivist looking for an easy fuck from the guy who works in the goddamn mailroom anymore. My eyes fluttered shut, closing out everything wrong in my world and concentrated with all that I had on transporting myself into the man’s apartment…

The carpet would be warm between my cold toes as I walk towards the back of a comfy sofa, steaming cup of peppermint tea wrapped in my right hand. With the most care to be perfectly silent, I would step up behind the couch where he sits quietly reading some long American classic I should have read in order to be called ‘cultured’ but never go around to. A small contented smile I’ve never worn before would pull at the corners of my lips.

Bending at the waist, I would lean down and gently put my arm around his neck, offering up the cup of tea. My free hand would rest upon his clothed shoulder before sliding down to trace over the exposed line of his collarbone with the pad of my thumb. The tips of my fingers slipped beneath the wide, open neck of his gray t-shirt. After marking his place and closing the book, placing it on his lap, he would grab the bottom of the mug with one hand, allowing both my hands to freely slip under his shirt; gliding over soft hairs on his tanned skin that my own pale chest still lacks.

As he turns his face to say a kind thank you for the drink, I would surprise him with a kiss that takes his breath away. Oh, but his lips would be so soft and intoxicating; he’d apply just the right pressure to assure his passion and love but not enough to bruise with tell-tale lust. After the simple kiss, he would smile back with such warmth flooding his eyes that I would need to sit down before my knees buckled and gave way.

“Hey, you…” He would whisper with a sinfully arousing voice that betrays his innocent aura. Once I was seated on the couch I’d sprawl out like I always do, with my head resting in his lap. A low content moan would roll in the back of my throat as he pressed his palm to my face. His gentle fingers would stroke down the side of my face, caressing the hard lines of my jaw, as he simply stares down into my wide blue eyes. He’d love my eyes, men always do, but he’d be different…he would just stare with the purest of smiles instead of a crude leer. Then his hand moves and he would start to card his fingers through the dark strands of my hair.

I’d reach up and hook my own tapered, nail-bitten fingers around the back of his neck, brushing against the soft hairs at his nape. With the slightest pressure I would pull him down for another kiss, eliciting from his lips a deep moan of my name.

“Elijah…Elijah…El-”

“-ijah!” I snapped back into reality when the young man from the mailroom yelled my name. His face was the epitome of disgust as he shoved my hips away, yelling all the while as his ears flush red. I couldn’t move or speak in retaliation. “I’m giving you a fucking blowjob,” he begins, searching in the dark for his shirt. “And all the while you’re just staring out the goddamn window!” He paused for a moment, still jerking his undone pants up around his narrow hips. Slowly he turned to look out the frosted window. I know he had seen him when he heaved a sigh and turned back to look at me with a sorry expression contorting his face—fuck him for feeling sorry for me.

“Okay Elijah,” he began with a calmer edge cutting into his voice, talking down to me as if I was some sort of simple minded child. Fuck him. “The first few times I was cool with it.” Fuck him. “But you know what? Third times a charm, pal.” That sarcastic little fuck even shoved me back until my naked back collided with the frosted glass window. Next thing I heard was the door slamming shut behind his retreating back. For a moment I stood silently, staring at the thin line of light leaking in from the gap between the edge of my door and the hardwood floor.

“Fuck you, Charlie!”

December 20th:

In the basement of the nationally-known New York-based law firm, nearly the entire floor was devoted to the vast archives of client files. Above, dangling precariously from the ceiling by thick cords of steel, the cheap florescent lights flickered on and off in time with the dull buzz of the industrial-sized radiator housed in the cramped room next door. Despite the radiator being on full-blast, the heat still hadn’t managed to seep in through the freezing cinderblock walls of the archive-the icy temperature inside almost rivaling the temperature outside.

A thin haze of cigarette smoke tinted the already dank air, casting intricate patterns upon the hundreds of shelves filled with files stacked neatly up and down the rows when the light caught it just right. However, seeing as how I was the main attributer to this cloud of predominantly clove-scented smoke, I never complained about it to anyone; granted that there were only two of us working down in the archives.

The crisp, freshly faxed and photocopied papers, along with their originals, shuffled with the near-silent glide of paper against paper. My numb fingertips fumbled against the material as I compiled yet another folder for the extensive archive that I had to maintain in perfect order, despite Janet’s best attempts to fuck up my flawless filing system. With a quiet slide of fabric, the too-long arm of my sweater fell farther down around my right hand, knocking several papers out of place as I opened the wide manila folder marked with client’s name as well as the name of the client’s lawyer. As I tried to stuff the completed folder into the correct bin marked K-M, subscript: Felony, balancing the heavy container on my hip, a wayward sheet that my cuff had toyed with slipped out of place and nicked the pad of my thumb.

“Fuck!” With a childish yelp, I dropped the folder as well as heavy bin and quickly stuck the wounded digit between my lips.

“Grace and beauty, Elijah,” a feminine voice drawled. The good-natured undertone lacing her words was the only thing that kept me from biting her head off right then and there when I turned to look at her with a scowl. Now, when scowling at another whilst one has a thumb pressed between one’s lips it becomes rather hard to maintain a certain level of dignity that she would surely use to her advantages.

Janet, the woman who I’ve spent most of my adult life with stuck in the musty archive. The energetic aura that she was known for was almost oozing from her every pore as she grinned at my thwarted attempt to continue glaring at her. She stood a few feet away with one hand firmly placed on her hip. The other hand toyed idly with a file that was sticking out of place in a bin that I could only reach when I stood up on my tip-toes—fucking short-ass genes. A sweet, teasing grin was pulling up the corners of her lightly painted lips.

“You, fortunately, lack only grace,” she said with an insinuating wink chasing her words, gingerly tapping the straight end of my nose for punctuation.
“Whatever you say, Janet…” I joked back, my voice was muffled by my thumb as I spoke, brushing off the backhanded compliment with a flick of my wrist. I turned back around to the mess the spilled papers had created, fanning out on the cold linoleum floor. Bending down to put everything back in order, I shuffled the sheets back into the folder and stood up with the crumpled paper pressed against my chest. Shifting my hips so that one leg was bent and the other straight, I cocked my head to the opposite side and waited for her to start the barrage of questions.

“So…” She began, implying with the raising of her eyebrows exactly what topic she had in mind—prying into my sex life. A light flush burned the skin stretched over my cheekbones; sure I’d tell Janet anything she asked but it was so fucking embarrassing, I wasn’t sure I could even say it aloud. The nail-less tips of my fingers began digging into the yielding paper as I anxiously waited for her to finally breach the topic she so desperately wanted to hear about. When she saw I wasn’t going to give her any opening she barreled onward, “…how was Charlie?” Her hand, the one that had been pressed against her hip, playfully shoved at my shoulder as a nearly sinful grin twisted her lips, waiting for every detail.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled dumbly, subconsciously clutching the papers tighter and tighter, looking everywhere but her crestfallen face. The silly dream I’d had kept playing over and over in my mind. My grip slackened as soon as I heard the paper tear and I snapped back quickly, words already forming on my tongue without my mind having time to really process them. “I was kinda out of it last night…” My voice sounded strange as I spoke; only attributing to my claims.

“Out of it?” She echoed back, cocking an eyebrow. Both her hands were now digging around in the tight pockets of her jeans. No doubt looking for a cigarette; they let us smoke because hardly anyone came downstairs and it was only the two of us and we both smoked.

“Yeah…” My voice must have sounded forlorn because the expression on Janet’s face suddenly changed to genuine concern. For some reason I felt as if I was being very coy with her, never really meeting her gaze as I thought about the man across the street and his eloquent posture.

“Lij,” she began warily, “What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know.” I said again, shifting my hips once more as I nervously began rearranging the papers back into their correct order. “One moment everything was going fan-fucking—and I mean fucking-tastic, I’d gotten him up to my room, but then…” My voice faltered. “I looked out my window and saw…him.” I laughed nervously at the almost ominous quality my voice had taken on. “Kinda went downhill from there…”

“Him?” She asked, confused. Her hands were now searching the depths of her coat pockets. When she grinned,, I knew that she had found what she was looking for.

“This guy…he lives in the apartment across from mine on the opposite side of the street…he was, well…” I trailed off, forcing my hands to steady. Pulling the folder down, away from my chest, I looked up at her grinning face. That moment I realized that what I was going to say next would sound almost as bad as if I were a little schoolboy with a crush on someone utterly unobtainable-which is exactly what I might as well have been. “Now, don’t you dare laugh at me.” I warned with a mocking undertone to keep the mood light, her face quickly grew somber but the corners of her lips were turned up in protest to the unnatural expression of seriousness. “He was…stunning…” This time I knew for a fact that my cheeks and the tips of my ears were tinted bright pink. Another smile was spreading across my face but I didn’t want to stop it; it felt good to smile like that after so long of having to force them.

“You need to smile like that more often, Elijah.” She murmured sweetly, a current of forlornness skirting the edges of her voice as she reached a hand out and pinched my flushed cheek, like an old familiar aunt to her favorite nephew. The cigarette she had pulled from the carton she found in her coat pocket was clutched between her fingers, unlit. “You,” pointing to me with the unlit end of the cigarette, “should go after him. I mean if he makes you smile like that before you’ve even found out his name, wonder what else he can do for you.” She winked and lit the cigarette before offering one to me.

I shrugged noncommittally at the what I thought outlandish suggestion. For starters, I didn’t have the first fucking idea on how I’d ever meet even him outside of our street. In addition to that, as she had said, I didn’t even know his first name. A long pause followed after she lit my cigarette before I remembered the folder that I still held in my numb hands. Finally deciding to break the awkward silence, I tried to make a small self-deprecating joke about my rough treatment of the papers within the folder.

“I hope that this…” I paused to look down at the lawyer’s name printed out on the manila folder, “Mr. S. Astin…won’t be too upset with his client’s folder being a little crumpled…” A small giggle pasted from between my lips as I placed the folder into the correct bin, the ashes from my cigarette falling to the floor. The bin, of course, being one of the goddamn heaviest, was on the bottom shelf-my back hurt like no other for the rest of the day.

++++++++++++++++

A steady stream of water flowed down the bare nape of my neck. With the sweep of my hands over the soaked strands of hair, I pushed away the excess water. The cold beads ran together down my back to be eventually caught by the clean white terrycloth wound about my waist. The thin lenses of my glasses had fogged up as they waited on the sink while I took my shower. Quickly wiping away the fine mist of condensed water, I slipped the dark frames on to rest upon the bridge of my nose. With eyes still adjusting to finally seeing clearly, I stumbled out of the bathroom, flicking the light off as I dragged my hand along the wall.

I found that my body, of its own accord, wound up standing before the frosted window. For fear of being seen, though I’m not sure how he could have seen my pale figure in the pitch black apartment, I took several steps away from the pane. A small smile pulled at my lips as I watched him string up bright colored lights in the large bay window that was my portal into his world.

In the unsettling silence that filled every dark corner of my apartment during nights when I was alone, I pressed the slick palm of my hand to the damp, pale flesh of my lower abdomen. The thin muscle beneath the skin quivered and twitched at the sensation of being touched. It was something that I could actually feel. The hot skin of my fingertips traced idle, intricate patterns on the yielding, wet flesh, almost like a nervous habit that had developed only last night-I’d stayed up nearly until two o’ clock in the morning just watching him read.

I soon grew bold. Only the very tips of my fingers dipped beneath the soft fabric of my towel. Just as I felt the hard flesh stir, a bouncing bundle of blond curls hopped up onto the seat of the man’s bay window. Shocked out of my fucking mind, I tore my hand away from my body. Fuck being seen, I thought, nearly pressing my face against the icy glass to get a better view of the young girl.

She looked no older than nine or ten. The man was holding her in his arms as she reached up to attach the last few strands of colored light to the hooks above the bay window’s pane. A strange warmth stirred just below my breastbone as I watched the man coddle the girl with paternal tenderness. Though it was hard to make out defined physical features the way the young girl moved mirrored the man’s own mannerisms I’d noticed the night before-she had to be his daughter, there was no doubt in my mind. My heart stopped as soon as I realized that. He did not look anything like the kind of man to have a child out of wedlock.

He’s fucking married.

I waited for nearly an hour to catch a glimpse of a ‘wife.’ He and his daughter would pass by the window every so often to fiddle with the lights or put up another Christmas type adornment but I never saw a woman once.

Maybe she just wasn’t home…

December 21st:

“Lijah!” Janet bellowed from the clerk desk; to be exact, it was more of a counter top, like at a bar, than a real ‘desk’—merely in place to keep people from going back into the archives without one of us near the doorway into the basement archive. The sudden sound startled me out of a rather vivid daydream that of course involved the ‘stunning’ man from across the street and sinfully hot candle wax. My head quickly snapped in the direction of the sound, as if to seem alert, though she couldn’t see me. However, that didn’t seem to matter to the heavy filing bin I’d forgotten to put away when I was filing something. This time it was a whole string of every obscenity I could think of that passed my lips as I trudged up to the clerk desk where she sat.

“Fuck, what is it Janet!?” I asked, pure hostility curving my voice and adding a rigid edge to my movements. She didn’t answer, but simply pointed towards the other side of the desk. Following her finger with my gaze, I found myself staring at the handsome man who lived across the street. So he’s a lawyer. In the flesh he looked younger than I had thought. I felt my eyes grow about two sizes wider, which is saying something for my eyes. “Oh…Hello,” I mumbled, not trusting my voice to go any louder than a whisper as the sickeningly pink blush crept up the back of my neck.

It was his eyes that set off the shiver that ran up my spine to buzz at the base of my neck, causing my back to straighten beyond belief. A weak smile pulled at my lips as I felt reality slip a little as I looked at his eyes. The deep pools of warm swirling hazel just called to me like a siren. There was so much warmth rimming around the edges of his eyes. Even the simple structure of his face seemed to spell out good-natured, sweet and caring. Unable to continue looking at the man without reaching across and touching him, I turned back to look at Janet. Raising an eyebrow I silently asked why he was here-of course she didn’t know he was the man I’d been talking about yesterday.

“He’s looking for a file on Lyle, in Felony.” Cocking my head to the side, she got the question; why had she felt it necessary to call me out from my daydream? “That would be in your section of the archives, Elijah, not mine.” She pointed out quietly so that the man wouldn’t hear.

Summing up every last ounce of restraint that I’d stored in my body, I turned back to the man and smiled; it was easy to smile with him. He smiled back, and I suspected my knees nearly buckled, but I somehow managed to unhinge the part of the countertop that was sectioned off so people could walk through. As I led him over to the aisle where the bin was, I felt Janet’s eyes following us all the way.

“I’m Sean.” He said as we walked to section of the aisle were the bin was. Oh, I’d been right about his voice too. Though there was an undercurrent that I hadn’t accounted for, more paternal than sexual, warm and comfortable to lose myself in. “And of course you’re Elijah.” My name…oh, it even sounded saintly on his secret sinner’s lips. He was very sweet to try and make a simple joke but all I could do was grin. Still unable to form an intelligent string of words that I could piece together to construct a sentence, I kept silent. I’d already established myself as a cussing idiot who didn’t know what section of the archive was under his jurisdiction.

I found the bin marked with K-L; Felony and bent to heave it off of it's bottom shelf in order to find the right file. My fingers wrapped around the stiff edges but the bin didn’t seem to want to budge an inch. The tell-tale swish of expensive dress pants told me he’d stepped closer. The thing wouldn’t fucking move. He asked if I wanted help, but I told him I could manage. His voice sounded funny and distant when he asked to help me but I thought nothing of it. Finally with a great, sudden tug I pulled the container from the shelf and stumbled back, still bent over with my hands clutching the bin, and knocked into something warm, very warm.

Fingers grasped my thin hips to steady them as I felt the warmth of the man’s, Sean’s, pelvis pressed tight against my ass. I couldn’t breath, didn’t want to breathe for fear of waking. Thank god for low rise jeans. The tips of his warm fingers pressed against the bare skin of my jutting hipbones. A burning heat buzzed in the pit of my stomach as his fingers slowly brushed over my skin. It didn’t last long before I came to my senses and pulled away; however, as I moved I felt something stir. Of course, when I turned to look at him, I wouldn’t be able in any lifetime, this or the next, to stifle the bright flush lighting up my cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized, but he said it was fine and brushed it off. “Here,” I said handing him the folder I had nearly ruined the day before; S.-Sean Astin…As soon as he opened the folder to look at the papers his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Erm…I’m sorry about the copies…” I began. Oh fuck, I thought, knowing there was no way I’d be able to stop now that I’d started. I had to talk to him, had to look at him…Sean. “You see, I was filing them, and, well that little bastard right there,” I tugged at the paper that still had a small blood stain on one corner. “Nicked my thumb—nice size paper cut across the whole goddamn pad.” I stopped and took a deep breath silently.

“I was just looking for them for another case to compare with. No real need for them to be pristine.” Sean said, smiling down at me; of course he was taller, but thankfully only by a few inches-perfect height to just reach up and kiss his lips. Oh, they did look soft indeed.

Fuck.

“Thanks, Elijah.” He smiled and bent to put away the bin before I could object. It was much easier for him to lift.

“My pleasure…” I murmured. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. Thankfully he only smiled at the comment and walked silently beside me as I showed him back to the clerk desk. He thanked Janet as well and began walking towards the door.

“One…two…thr-” Janet paused her counting as soon as Sean’s head turned back to glance over his shoulder at Elijah with a fleeting grin just before he slipped out of the doorway. “Lij, you are so in!” She said, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Three second rule.” I replied grinning, still in a daze.

“Well, even without that, I saw the way he was checkin’ out your ass when you bent to lift that bin.” She said with a conspirator’s grin curving her lips. “Brilliant move, Lij.” The compliment earned a cocky grin that I hardly wore anymore.

“Wait, what did you say about my ass!?” I asked, shocked when the first part of her comment registered as new information.

“He was totally checking it out when you bent to lift the bin,” she winked. After a short pause she turned to look at my face. “Hey, were you okay when you first saw him?” Of course she’d picked up on my shock when I first saw him standing in the basement of the law firm.

“Shocked was all…” I paused as she cocked an eyebrow, imploring silently an explanation. “That was him-the man I told you about yesterday, the one who I saw through my window.” Her face lit up with surprise.

“Oh! Wow…I can see why you’d get a little distracted…”

“Yeah, Janet, a little distracted…” I muttered, my fingers wrapping themselves around my jutting hipbones where Sean’s hands had been clutching a moment ago. The fabric was still warmer than normal.

December 23rd:

It was nearly nine o’ clock at night when I heard the familiar glide of well oiled metal gritting against rusted iron as the main door opened slowly (whoever it was seemed to be unsure whether someone was working as late as them or not). A thin shaft of light leaked in through the open door, disrupting the darkness of the archive where I stood looking for the right key to lock the main door. The thick, black fabric of my pea coat was wound about my thin frame—I had been just about to lock up and head back to my apartment.

“Hello…” The nervous voice called into the near dark as he walked inside. His hand was still clutching the brass doorknob for fear of it locking shut behind him. By the light coming in from behind I recognized his face, carved with an expression of inquisitive confusion.

“Ssse—Mr. Astin!” I caught myself as I hurried to the wall closest with the light switch. Flicking the lights on, I saw that he had the file in his hand and was now smiling brightly at me. Of course, I couldn’t hold back the answering smile that spread across my face. In a daze, I barely heard him correct me, telling me in a sweet voice that it was perfectly fine to just address him as Sean. Sean…Ssssean. Sean! I could get used to say that over and over again…

“Sean…” I whispered quietly under my breath, a silly grin tugging at my lips as he placed the folder on the desk.

“I’m sorry for coming down so late.” Sean apologized, leaning his bent elbow against the counter top of the clerk desk. Anxiously I began to chew at the flesh of my lower lip as he looked at my face, his eyes never looking away from mine. “I was just heading out and I remembered that I still had this,” he said, sliding the folder across the counter. With a quick glace at his left hand as he passed me the folder I noticed there was no band wound about his finger. However, the flesh at the base of his finger looked a shade softer than the rest of his skin. Divorced? God, I hope he’s fucking bi. Taking the folder, the tips of my fingers brushing his, I turned to put it away. As I walked towards the correct aisle, I glanced over my shoulder as he continued talking to me with that same smile. “And ‘cause you guys aren’t working tomorrow I’ve got to return it today, right?”

“Well, actually,” I started nervously, a bubble of energy expanding in the pit of my stomach. I was talking to him and not just a few monosyllabic words thrown together, forming short sentences. “Janet’s the only one who has the day off ‘cause they said one of us had to stay since a few of you guys are working tomorrow.” I called back as I bent to place the file back into the bin. “Plus I really don’t have anywhere to be for Christmas…” That part I mumbled under my breath as I walked out of the aisle and found him staring in my direction with an attentive look. Nobody, save Janet, had ever really listened to me before. It felt weird. “Sooooo,” I drawled with a silly grin. “I’m still going to be here…” Walking up to the counter, I slumped over my side so that both my elbows were pressed against the linoleum next to his.

“Oh,” he said raising his eyebrows with the slightest hint of surprise etched into his features. “Well, I didn’t exactly get everything done tonight so I’ll be here tomorrow as well…” A silly grin of self-deprecation painted his face as he pulled away from the counter top, leaving both his hands pressed tight against the surface but his body farther away than before. The straight, white edge of his front teeth caught the soft flesh of his bottom lip as he looked down at the counter. After a moment he looked up through the few strands of light brown hair that had fallen in his face and spoke with a small smile. “Maybe I’ll come down and say hi or something so you and I both don’t have to be too lonely on Christmas Eve.”

Okay, he was out and out flirting with me. A current of thrill shot through my body as I smiled back, a sultry edge curving my voice as I called back to his retreating back with a low purr.

“That’d be nice…”

++++++++++++++++

When I have to cross from the kitchen into my bedroom I walk past the frosted window. That night I had a glass of eggnog in hand, heading for bed, when I noticed that the lights strung up in Sean’s, I love saying that in my head, apartment had gone out. I paused to see what the problem was; all the other lights were on. After wiping away some of the mist that had collected on the inside of the window thanks to the frost outside I saw the young girl suddenly appeared. She was anxiously tugging her father towards the bay window and pointing to the burned out lights, a small blue, steaming mug was clutched in one small hand. Furrowing my brow I watched as Sean fiddled with the strand until the lights popped on in a flash of vibrant colors and the young girl hugged her father tightly, no doubt thanking him profusely. I smiled.

However, the thing that stuck out was Sean’s face; it was tilted up towards my window. For a moment I wasn’t sure what was going on, whether he saw me or not, until, with the slightest of movements, I saw his hand move. He was waving. My mouth fell open and all I could do was watch as he bent to whisper something in his daughter’s ear, his face never turning from where I stood. Next thing I knew they both were waving at me through the beautiful bay window.

I waved back, grinning and raising my glass of eggnog. The young girl answered back with a tip of her mug, full of what I guess was hot coca.

December 24th:

I’d never been to the upper floors of the building before, but when one Mr. Sean Astin came down all the way to the archives just to ask me to a last minute office party upstairs, complete with eggnog that he knew I liked, who was I to try and refuse. In fact, I never knew lawyers could through parties; especially ones that involve a literal vat of eggnog that’s been spiked with more Jack Daniels than mine—must have been the whole fucking bottle to get that burn on the way down. However, it really didn’t matter when I was sitting on Sean’s incredibly comfortable and warm lap watching two interns trying to drink the other under the table as we talked about anything and everything.

“Thanks for asking me…up here.” I murmured my gratitude in his ear as I wound an arm about his shoulders. The alcohol was starting to create a nice buzz in the back of my head. Reflected back from the flushed skin of his cheek I felt my own warm breath just before I turned my face to press my own cheek against his. A warm arm wrapped around my waist tightened for a moment before relaxing, a sort of hug in response to my thanks. I grinned. He had had almost as much to drink as I had, maybe one or two less, so we were both a little inebriated—not enough to render us incapable of string words together but enough to use as a cover for doing things one wouldn’t do while sober.

The sleeve of my tight knit sweater pulled over an over starched collared shirt hitched up higher on my elbow as I held a cup of eggnog out before us. Nobody was watching us as I brought the wide-mouthed cup up to our lips. I tipped it so that we both could drink at the same time. His hand tightened where it gripped my hip. A giggle that shook my body as I sat on his lap rolled in the back of his throat as soon as he’d swallowed the liquid.

“Lij…” He whispered with heavy lidded eyes staring at me with fire rimming the warm edges of hazel irises. Fuck his lips were so close I could almost taste them if I breathed in.

Unable to be so close and not touch him I gently pressed my thumb, the one I’d gotten the paper cut on a few days before, against the warm skin of his upper lip. He paused, confused at first before a smile broke out on his lips. Next his eyes lighting up with suppressed energy that had been building up for a long time it seemed. A thin film of milky eggnog had formed on the flesh. I dragged my thumb across the skin as he watched in silence. As soon as I pulled my hand away I pressed the digit against my lips and, parting them a sliver, licked the liquid from my own skin. However, as soon as I was about to speak he all of the sudden jerked away from my body.

“Shit, Ali!” He swore, seeming to sober up quickly as he pressed his face into the wide palm of his hand. Fuck. I winced, remembering the young girl who was without her father now on Christmas Eve. After moving from the warm confines of his arms I watched as he called his daughter and told her he’d be home in five minutes. The expression on his face made my heart stop.

“Oh Sean…” I whispered to myself as he hung up. Just before he turned to leave he grasped my hand and tugged me in the direction of the elevators. Looking over his shoulder he smile, a melancholy look tainting the natural charisma that normally filled his smiles to the bursting point.

“Since you live on the same street, you wanna share a cab?”

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How or why he got me up there I’ll never really know. I’d been just about to cross the street when he called me back to the lobby of his posh apartment building. He asked if I wanted to come up and meet Ali, his daughter—but I already knew that much. The image of the bouncing blond girl flitted through my mind and I nodded, she seemed like a darling child.

On the elevator ride up he warned me that she tended to be a fairly energetic, like any growing eleven-year old girl should. When we walked in the door she’d bounded off the couch and made a beeline straight for her father. The woman who lived next door told Sean in a hushed voice that she was sorry he had to work so late on Christmas Eve. Of course that comment earned a rather fetching blush from Sean. After introducing us she asked if I was the man who lived across the street. I nodded and she gave me a hug for the correct answer, saying that she wish I had decorated my window as they had. She was a very sweet girl. Once we were introduced she had slipped away while Sean and I sat down on the sofa.

“Alexandra,” Sean’s voice took on a paternal edge, slightly wrapped with warning as he looked over the back of the sofa. She was standing in the doorway of the hall where I presumed her bedroom was. A grin was pulling at her lips, matching her father’s. Both her hands were behind her back and as she walked past us she kept her back to the wall so we couldn’t see what she had. “What are you doing?” Her father questioned, cocking an eyebrow as she slipped up behind the sofa.

“Nothing…” She replied giggling a little before her right hand shot out above our heads. Clutched between her thumb and forefinger was a thin stem that lead down to waxy leaves and a sprig of fresh mistletoe. “Mistletoe!” Her voice trembled as she shook with a bout of silent giggles. My breath caught in my throat as I saw Sean’s faint blush return before his eyes slide down from the mistletoe to my face. His lips pressed together as his eyebrows lifted, asking silently if it was okay. I nodded.

First the warm touch of his fingertips grazed the flushed flesh of my neck as he pressed his palm against my skin. His thumb slid under the hard line of my jaw, tilting my head to the left as he tipped his to the right. My eyes shut slowly as did his. My breath stopped for a moment as soon as I felt his lips press against mine.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Fuck!

Sean…

Once again I was proven right. His lips were the softest I’d ever kissed. It was just a gentle brushing of flesh to flesh before he pulled away, but I’d been sent over the fucking moon before crashing back down to reality. The loss of his warm hand ached in the pit of my stomach.

“Alexandra you, my darling daughter, are a rascal!” He teasingly chivied her before grabbing the plant from her fingers. Of course she merely grinned and walked back around the couch to sit in her father’s lap. “Hey, kiddo, what time is it?” Ali’s face when blank, save for her eyes growing wide. She grabbed her father’s wrist and looked at the watch that read, ’11:34’.

“Oh no, nooooo!” She cried, jumping off from her father’s lap. “You don’t think Santa would skip over us if I’m not in bed!?” Suddenly she was rushing around the room, looking frantically out the window up at the sky. After seeing nothing for a few seconds she turned back around, chewing her lower lip nervously.

“Don’t worry, Ali.” Sean soothed. “Go jump in bed and I’ll come tuck you in after I say goodbye to Elijah.” Before rushing off to her room she came to where I was standing and hugged me again. She gently tugged at the tails of my shirt, sticking out from the hem of my sweater.

“He likes you,” her voice was hushed as if she was telling her deepest, darkest secret to me. After one last hug she turned and rushed to her bedroom down the dimly lit hallway, looking back once to wave goodbye.

As soon as the door was closed behind Sean’s back he sighed and leaned back against it, the raised, gold-painted numbers of his apartment surely digging into his shoulder blades. I shuffled my feet nervously. He looked at my face with an apologetic smile, his lips pressed together.

“I’m sorry about Ali and the, the mistletoe…” He started babbling. “She just likes to play matchmaker for me and since she’s eleven she understands exactly why her mother and I divorced,” he broke off, laughing nervously before finally admitting what I had been wondering for the past week. “Daddy’s gay!’ His fingers where pulling at a loose string that hung from the hem of his sweater as he laugh nervously again. They must have been together up until recently if he was still so self-conscious. I tried to smile but he wasn’t looking at me any longer. “So I’m sorry if you don’t s-”

I kissed him silent.

If I’d been standing outside my body watching I’d have nearly fainted at my unmitigated nerve. It wasn’t anything like the tentative, almost chaste kiss that we’d shared under Ali’s mistletoe. The door shuddered with a loud groan as I pressed him back against it with my hips and hands. One hand was wedged behind his head, wrapped in the soft strands of his hair. His own hands where gripping my jutting hipbones, much like they had a few days before down in the archives. Ooooh fuck! My whole body shivered with suppressed ecstasy as his teeth grazed against my lower lip. He was so fucking warm and growing warmer, harder too, against my twitching hips. With a gently lick of my tongue against his, he pressed his hips back against mine. The straight tip of my nose nudge his cheek as I tipped my head back, pulling back.

“Shit,” he whispered breathless against my lips before I turned and left, looking back over my shoulder before he could count to three.

December 25th:

For some strange reason the freezing temperature that had dominated my apartment for the past month, had no such affect upon that morning. I felt warm and content as I rolled out of bed. The memories of Sean and his little matchmaker daughter, Alexandra, were still running through my mind in vivid color—especially that last kiss in the hallway…I’d never thought I could be so bold. With the tell-tale flush of that memory still painting my cheeks I walked into the living room. Of course, with an open grin, my eyes flicked across the room to the window. A sudden gasp slipped past my lips unchecked as my eyes widened.

Taped to the glass of Sean’s window was a large red poster board with green letters scrawled across it. The larger message sent a domestic warmth all throughout my body. In the bold thick, almost childish looking, green letters was spelled out; “Merry Christmas, Elijah”. However, there was something else written in a smaller, neater print closer to the bottom of the poster: “Dinner?”

In a heartbeat I grabbed the closest notepad and wrote my reply, (only after a quick ‘Merry Christmas’ first):

“Yes!”

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AN: Merry Christmas! I hope ya'll like my little Christmas present...December 19-21st and the 25th where all beta read by the loverly

empressaurelius! (the other two are not beta read--I'm sorry for any mistakes...)