(LB - ATF AU)

Warnings: This is set in the LB-AU so, if that isn't your thing, hit the 'back' button now. No owwies, just a few itchies.

Notes: I've borrowed Joy and Kerry's "Trolls" and Jeanne's term "Da" for Buck. I promise I took real good care of 'm ;)

Written in celebration of the 2002 Holiday Season. Hope yours is Magnificent!

Dedicated to the members of the Black and Buckskin and 7H/7C lists. Some of the most wonderful and magnificent folks you'd ever want to meet! Special hugs go to Joy and Jeanne, who coaxed me into this little playground.

==================================<M7> <LB> =================================

Ezra Standish opened his door reluctantly and cast a wary eye on his visitor. Looking down at the large parcel the man held, he said, "is this them, then?"

The visitor; tall, blond and ruggedly handsome smiled. Shoving the box he held at the Southerner, Chris Larabee said, "yep."

Barely managing to balance the box, Ezra backed up a step as his boss pushed passed him, strode through the entrance and into the unhappy man's townhouse. He looked around at the austere, tasteful Christmas decorations and shook his head. "Jesus, Ezra, it looks like the window of Bloomingdale's or something in here."

Smiling, and completely missing the comment's meaning, the agent said, "why, thank you. I do believe the decorator I hired did an excellent job."

Barely restraining himself before he snickered, Chris said, "yeah, well anyway, I want to thank you again for volunteering to do this for us."

They both knew he hadn't volunteered. The only reason Ezra Standish was spearheading this particular mission was because he had been out of the office when the team leader had asked for volunteers. By the time he had returned, Josiah and Nathan had both invented convincing reasons for their being unable to help Chris out. He had drawn the short straw, as it were.

"Yes, well, I'm only too happy to help," Standish lied through his teeth.

"Great. Oh! I've got to go get the rest," Chris turned and headed out the door.

"The rest?" Ezra managed to squeak, although the only response he got was the sound of a closing door. He stood in the middle of his living room, staring forlornly at that closed door until it opened again and Larabee re-entered, carrying a large bag.

"Isn't that getting a little heavy?" The blond nodded toward the box Standish still held.

Indeed it was, but his current state of shock had kept him from registering that fact. Now, though, he felt the strain on his muscles and the pull on his shoulders. Looking around, a hint of fear in his eyes, he finally settled on a bit of linoleum, the scar where he had dropped a hot pan still evident. Placing the box there, he groaned and pressed a hand on the small of his back as he straightened.

Larabee did snort now, shaking his head at the fastidious agent's being overly concerned about his home's appearance. "I've got plastic in the bottom of the box, I don't think anything's going to... leak."

Standish blanched at that, but didn't comment. Instead, he looked meaningfully at the bag Chris had with him. "And that would be... ?"

"Just some things to keep your... company... occupied. Buck wrote down some instructions for you."

"Instructions? Surely you don't expect me to... to... entertain them?"

Larabee sat the bag down, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and leveled a gaze on the smaller man. "It's only until tomorrow, Ezra. Just bring everything to the ranch first thing in the morning, and your duties will be over. You can sit back and relax the rest of the day out there. Buck's making his special pancakes for breakfast, and we'll have a feast for dinner."

"But... but..." Standish stammered.

"Look, Ezra. I promised I'd make it worth your while, right?" As the auburn head nodded weakly, Larabee continued. "You make sure everyone's safe and happy in the morning, and I'll make sure that request for time off next week goes through without a hitch. If not..." he trailed off, but the smaller man had little trouble understanding exactly what would happen, 'if not'.

"Yes... yes, all right. I understand." His tone was that of a man being told the Governor hadn't called while he sat in the electric chair.

Nodding and ignoring the man's tone, Larabee said, "great. Now, like I said, Buck left instructions. It won't be anything so difficult that a man of your intelligence can't handle it."

The only reply he could manage was a heavy sigh. The Southerner stared down at the box as if looking for the meaning of life on its corrugated surface. By the time he looked up, the blond had gone. He moved to the bag, carried it to the kitchen, and gingerly opened it. He looked inside, then carefully he reached in and lifted each item out, placing them side by side on the counter as he mentally cataloged them for their use.

Just as he emptied the bag, a small, strange sound came to him. The agent tried to ignore it, but it came again, then seemed to sound out in stereo. As the sounds became more insistent he realized he had to do something to stop them. Reaching down, he caught the edge of one of the box flaps with the tips of two fingers. Pulling slowly, he cautiously opened the top of the box. As the overhead light illuminated the interior, he groaned.

It was going to be a long... long... LONG night.

"Away in th' major... no crib for his bed... th' lit-tle Lord Gees-us let down his long hair - "

"JD! That ain't th' words!" Vin Tanner glared at the little boy, frustration glittering in his wide blue eyes.

"Are, too!" JD Dunne, hazel eyes just as fierce, glared back.

"Boys!" Buck Wilmington called from the front seat, his eyes on the rear-view mirror as he waited for the light to change before they proceeded toward the school. The afternoon Christmas concert was scheduled to begin at 3:30, and he had been enlisted to make sure the boys were picked up at noon, fed and changed into their dress clothes. In the past two and a half hours he had developed a headache that grew with each off-key note his adopted son warbled. As much as he adored the six-year-old, it didn't keep him from recognizing that the child couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

"But, Buuuuuuck," eight-year old Vin whined, "he ain't singin' 't right!"

"I am too!"

"Are not!"

"Am too!"

"NOT!"

"ENOUGH!" Buck bellowed, drowning out the impatient blare of a horn behind him as he sat through the green light. Seeing amber glowing from the device above the street, he hit the accelerator, barely making it through the intersection before the light turned to red again. He faintly registered the honking horns behind him as he concentrated on the whispers in the back seat.

"Am too."

"Are not!"

"You boys had best knock it off right now, or I'm gonna turn this car around and head back home. Got me?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He would straighten the argument out when they reached the school in a few minutes. For now, the big ATF agent just relished the quiet. He pulled up in front of Four Corners Elementary, slowing as he searched for a convenient parking space. They drove around for a few minutes, finally settling on a spot two blocks away. The big man grumbled under his breath, he thought they had allowed for plenty of time. Evidently there were several other parents with the same thought. Pointing the boys out the door opening onto the sidewalk, he got out, bringing a camcorder with him. Joining the children, he grasped a small hand with each of his and started off toward the school. He felt an impatient tug on one hand, and looked to find Vin attempting to pull loose of his hold. Seeing the expressive blue eyes looking toward a group of older boys on the sidewalk, he winked and let go. Young Tanner flashed him a relieved smile and moved ahead a step or two.

They entered the building, the heated air feeling like a furnace blast after the winter wind outside. Wilmington quickly dropped off each boy at their respective rooms, grimacing at the loud, excited voices that greeted him each time. Moving back to the main entrance, he smiled and waved as he recognized his friend and boss just entering the building.

Chris returned the wave, changing course to meet up with the bigger man. Together they moved toward the auditorium, searching through the crowd until they found two unclaimed seats together.

3:10... twenty more minutes before the Christmas pageant even began. It was going to be a long afternoon. Buck excused himself a minute later, putting Chris in charge of guarding the seats, their coats, and the camcorder, while he went off in search of punch.

Larabee knew the rogue well enough to realize that his long-time friend was off in search of phone numbers as usual. Stifling a yawn as the warm room began to make him drowsy. he settled into the chair, staring at nothing in particular. The big room had been decorated with crepe paper and cut-out stars and snowflakes. A tall Christmas tree stood on one side of the stage, its lights twinkling cheerfully, and Holiday music played through the school's public address system. It had been a long time since he'd participated in anything like this, and his mind wandered back several years to Adam's first - and last - Christmas pageant.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" A soft voice brought the blond from his reverie.

He looked up to see a pretty, petite, blonde looking down at him with a shy smile. He smiled, blinked as he processed her words, and nodded toward the seat on the other side of him. "That one is, but there's one over here, if that helps."

Her smile widened, and she slipped passed him to perch on the seat. They sat in silence for a minute or two before she broke it, asking quietly, "what grade?"

"Huh?" Larabee thought for a minute she was asking him what grade he was in. Realizing what she meant, he said, "first and third. You?"

"Third, too. My daughter's in Ms. Lacy's class. My name's Jenny, Jenny Brown."

"Chris Larabee. My son's in Ms. Adderson's."

"Oh."

Larabee could tell that she quickly registered the fact that his son had been labeled either EH or LD. He considered telling her the condensed version of his foray into adoptive fatherhood, but was saved from the decision when he heard a familiar voice on his left.

"Brought y' a cup a punch, pard."

Reaching up, Chris took the offered plastic cup, gulping the frothy concoction of Seven-Up, fruit punch, and sherbet.

The bigger man retrieved the camcorder from the chair and settled in, long legs stretching out beneath the chair ahead of him. Turning a mischievous grin on his friend, he muttered under his breath, "get her number yet, stud?"

Glaring at the other man until his mustache twitched with humor, he didn't answer. Swallowing the rest of the punch, he sat the empty cup on the floor beside him and settled in, arms across his chest. He refused to look at Wilmington, concentrating on the curtain shrouded stage.

"I don't remember seeing you here last year," the little blonde to Chris' right said, attempting to continue their conversation.

"I... we... we weren't here last year," Larabee stumbled over the words, casting a quick frown to his left at the sound of a snicker.

"Oh. Did you just move here?"

"Uh... no. My son... well, I just adopted him last year. He didn't start here until after the new year."

"Oh," the woman said. Then her face brightened, and she looked from one of the big men to the other. "Oh! You're... you're the two FBI agents who adopted those poor little boys!"

"ATF," the two men corrected in unison. Then they looked at one another in confusion before turning twin looks of disbelief toward the young mother.

"How did you... how do you know about the boys?" Chris asked when he could find his voice.

"Everyone knows," she supplied.

"But... but..." Wilmington stammered. The adoption was not supposed to be public knowledge.

The young woman paled. "Oh... uh, I'm sorry. Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"Not necessarily a secret... but we hadn't exactly advertised it, either," Larabee said quietly.

"Oh... um, well, I'm sorry," she repeated. "Pretty much everyone knows... the parents and the kids."

"How?" Buck questioned.

"Well, my Katie told me. She said that she heard it on the playground. I'm not certain where the story started."

Hazel eyes met dark blue, as the ATF agents processed the evidence. With deep sighs, they said as one, "JD."

"One of the boys?" Ms. Brown asked, amusement ringing in her voice.

"Yeah," Buck sighed. "The little one with the big mouth."

Jenny laughed, a sound like wind chimes in the breeze. "I understand. My three-year old, Danny, is the same way. If I want something to spread through the neighborhood in less than an hour, I just tell him."

The two men smiled at her reply. Chris asked, "so he didn't want to come watch his sister?"

Rolling bright, green eyes, the woman replied, "sure he did. But I know my son, and he'd be trying to get up on the stage, or at the very least hollering up there as soon as his sister appeared."

Larabee laughed. Further conversation was cut off as the music died, and a light shown on the closed curtains. The audience slowly quieted as a figure appeared through the thick material's division. Everyone recognized the rather imposing figure of Mrs. DeMateo, the principal. She waited until silence filled the auditorium before speaking.

"I'd like to welcome you all to our Holiday Pageant. The children and their teachers have all worked very hard on their performances, and I would like to ask you all to remain seated for the entire program. If you must leave, please do so between class presentations. However, just remember that we'll expect a note from your child as to why you have to leave school early." She paused as a few parents tittered at her attempt at humor. "At any rate, we hope that you all enjoy the show and, without further ado, we'll begin with the Kindergarten class."

Applause rang through the air, then died as the curtains were drawn back. Stage lights shown on the knot of tiny children in the center of the stage, all dressed in their holiday finest, with cardboard cutout reindeer antlers perched on their heads. From the side came the first notes of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on piano, followed by a rather ragged rendition of the song, complete with ad-libbed lyric additions. As the words "...like Columbus," faded, the audience began to applaud.

Jingle Bells followed, and then the little group was ushered off by their teacher as the heavy curtains were closed. The big room was quiet for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the occasional cough or whispered comment in the audience. Larabee and Wilmington were close enough to hear the brief commotion behind the curtain that signaled the fact that the first graders were assembling. Buck perched on the edge of his seat, training the camcorder on the stage with an expertise honed over the past year and a half since the boys had made them a family.

Chris was pretty certain his old friend had been using the video equipment far longer than that, but preferred not to know who the ladies man had videoed before, or what activities they had been engaged in.

Once more the stage was revealed, and the two men searched the group for their youngest. JD made the search far easier as he began waving frantically. Buck sighed and Chris stifled a laugh at the child's antics. A quick word from the teacher calmed the little boy down, and once more the piano announced the music.

"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

The little Lord Jesus, lay down his sweet head..."

Wilmington cringed as he heard the off-key tones of his son above the other children. At least he was singing the right lyrics, since Vin wasn't around to torture with the other rendition.

"The cattle are lowing, the poor babe awakes,

The little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes..."

Chris lifted a camera up, preparing to snap some stills of their little entertainer. He had borrowed a surveillance camera from the department with AD Travis' blessings in order to get the best pictures possible in the dim light. Zooming in on the tiny cherub, he snapped off a few shots before settling back to listen to the performance.

"Up on the rooftop, reindeer pause,

Out jumps good ol' Santa Claus..."

The second song was accompanied by red felt hats hurriedly plopped on the little heads, and the jingling of little bells threaded through ribbons. Then Buck frowned as he noticed little boy Dunne fidgeting, one chubby hand digging at his neck and chest. Panning across the group, he noticed a couple others mirroring the actions. Keeping the camera trained on the stage, Wilmington glanced over at his old friend. "Chris?"

"First comes the stocking of little Nell,

Oh dear Santa, fill it well..."

Larabee, too, had noticed the unrehearsed activity. He watched intently for a moment, then raised the camera to his eye. Rather than taking more pictures, he used the zoom lens to study the trio of itchy children. With a sigh, he made his diagnosis.

"Chicken pox."

"Ah, hell," the bigger man proclaimed.

Mentally going over their first aid medical supplies at the ranch, Larabee decided they would need to make a stop on the way home for medicated lotion. Resigned to a last minute change in plans for the holidays, he settled back and tried to concentrate on enjoying the show.

"Down through the chim'ney comes good St. Nick."

The curtain closed on the group, but not so soon that they didn't catch sight of the teacher corralling the three afflicted children to one side, as the others marched off. Again things grew quiet, and the two men debated what they should do. Deciding that the teacher would come for them if they were needed, they voted to stay until after Vin's participation was over and documented in both video and still pictures. The second grade classes performed next, the two men paying only token attention as they knew none of the children. Both of them tensed with anticipation as the third grade classes were presented.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly,

Fa la la la la... la la la la..."

Buck trained the video camera on the reed thin, tousle-haired little boy in the first row. Chris began snapping pictures, then settled back to watch his son perform.

"Toll the ancient Yuletide carol,

Fa la la la la... la la la la..."

Both men winced, remembering the fear that both boys displayed the night they had first rehearsed their songs. It had taken several minutes for the men to get them to understand that it was 'toll' and not 'Troll', and a long discussion over hot cocoa and cookies to put to rest the memories of their time on the streets and their running afoul of 'Trolls' in the form of gun-runners.

"Sing we joyous all together,

Fa la la la la.. la la la la..."

They applauded as the first selection ended. Then both agents smiled broadly as they watched the children rearrange themselves for their second song. Vin was handed a toy drum and drumsticks, and took center stage. The doting men could see the blue eyes widen with a combination of fear and pride as he began to beat a slow cadence on the instrument he had been entrusted to play.

"Come they told me,

Pa rum pa pum pum..."

Chris focused the camera for more pictures, while Buck happily filmed the little boy. Vin seemed oblivious to everything around him as he concentrated on keeping the time with the drum.

"I have no gift to bring,

Pa rum pa pum pum..."

Chris vaguely registered the fact that the camera he held clicked and whirred as it automatically began to rewind the film. He dropped it to his lap and sat back, a broad, pride-filled grin still plastered on his handsome face.

"Then, He smiled at me

Pa rum pa pum pum...

Me and my drum."

Vin looked up, a look of amazement on his elfin face, as he heard the applause. He smiled as he distinctly heard a familiar voice call out uncharacteristically loud, "that's my son!" With tears glittering in his eyes, Vin Tanner stood straighter, and had to be reminded that it was time to leave the stage as the curtain closed.

The lights came up as a brief intermission was declared. Chris turned to the young blonde beside him. "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask which one was your daughter."

Jenny smiled at him, tears glittering in her eyes. "With that special performance your son gave just now, it's a wonder you even noticed there was anyone else on stage. He did a wonderful job."

Chest swelling with pride, Larabee said, "yeah, he did."

On the other side of his friend, Buck pretended not to pay attention to their shy flirting. Then he caught sight of JD's teacher, a young black woman he'd tried flirting with until he met her linebacker boyfriend. She scanned the crowd from the edge of the stage, then motioned to him frantically. Reluctantly he nudged the man beside him. As Chris broke off his conversation, he nodded toward the stage and said, "think we've got our pass to leave early."

"Okay," Larabee said resignedly. "Tell you what, you get JD and head home. Vin and I will go get the Calamine and whatever else we'll need to get through the next few days."

"Y' sure?" Wilmington looked from Chris to the young woman on the other side of him. "I could take care a both."

Shaking his head, the smaller man said, "no, you need to get him home, he doesn't need to go around infecting the whole city on Christmas Eve."

"All right," the mustached man stretched out of the chair and started toward the stage. Glancing back, he smiled to see the blond saying his good-byes before following. The big rogue's eyes didn't fail to take in the fact that Chris Larabee was given a slip of paper by the pretty Jenny Brown.

"Way t' go, stud," he said through a smile.

Ezra hung up the phone, shaking his head. Larabee had called to ask him if he had ever had Chicken Pox. He had almost lied and said no, but decided that telling the truth would be better. The thought of keeping his 'guests' longer simply because his boss didn't want him to be exposed to the childhood malady was unbearable. He would probably say he had them even if he hadn't, simply to reclaim his home from almost certain destruction.

The box Chris had handed him so long ago was now lying on its side, being used as a home base of sorts. The box's former occupants were corralled in his kitchen / dining area, the only part of the townhouse floored in linoleum. He sat on a stool on the far side of the bar that separated his guests from the rest of the house, watching their every move with the intensity of a hawk. A heavy thud drew his attention to where his kitchen trash can now lay on its side, its contents strewn across the floor.

"Ah, hell!" He cried out as he raced into the room, only to slip on an ominously yellow puddle and land on his backside. Yelling in pain, he managed to get to his knees and retrieve an empty container that had held egg drop soup only yesterday. "NO! NO NO NO NO!"

His visitors blinked up at him curiously before continuing their destruction.

Chris pulled up in front of the rambling ranch house that he shared with the other three members of his patchwork family. He smiled across the seat at the little boy who smiled back at him. Larabee was glad they had already been through chicken pox with Vin, at least the boys wouldn't have to be separated for the holidays. He had called everyone who had been invited out to the ranch for dinner, to make certain they had already had the childhood disease. Only Nathan and Raine, who were trying hard to get pregnant, decided against coming out.

They left the truck, Chris grabbing up the three grocery bags from the back, Vin following close behind with his backpack and the drum he had been given by his teacher. Father and son entered the house to the sounds of Elvis singing "Blue Christmas". Larabee grimaced, which brought a giggle from his son. Looking down at the child, he managed a smile and a wink as he said, "sounds like Buck's home."

They found Wilmington in the boys' bathroom, supervising JD's bath. While the big man sat on the toilet, reading the paper, the little boy was soaking in a warm tub. The pox plagued child was playing with his bath toys as the heat of the water brought out more and more of the red blisters. Handing over the Calamine, the blond called out over the music, "how's he feeling?"

"Not bad so far, he's been in the tub since we got home."

"Hi Chris! Hi Vin!" JD yelled out, managing to splash a good amount of water over the side of the tub as he waved to the two newcomers. "I'm takin' another bath even though I just took one this mornin' cause Buck tol' me I need t' sit in here 'til I turn all pruney so my 'shicken pops' all turn red an' then he's gonna paint 'm pink with some special me'cine and he said we're gonna have pizza for dinner an' he let me pick out what goes on one a th' pizzas so I'm gonna have pepper-onies an' pineapples an' then I'm gonna drink some pop with the pizza an' Buck said we're gonna watch The Grinch!"

Chris and Vin simply nodded from time to time during the long narrative, then turned to share a smile. Leaving the lotion with Wilmington, they went to put the other things away.

A short time later the doorbell announced the arrival of their dinner. Chris paid the driver, tipping her well for the trip to the house, then carried the short stack of boxes into the kitchen. By the time he and Vin had finished setting the table, Buck and JD joined them. They sat at the kitchen table, eating while the men praised the children for their performances earlier that day. As usual, Vin ducked his head shyly as praise was heaped on his tiny shoulders. JD, on the other hand, grinned broadly, showing off the lack of his two front teeth and accepting the comments with six-year-old grace while he tried unsuccessfully to scratch his itches.

After dinner was over, Chris cleaned up while Buck kept JD busy until Vin had a chance to change into his pajamas. Finally the four of them settled in the den, which glowed merrily with the lights of the Christmas tree. The boys made their usual survey of the stacks of presents beneath the thick branches, trying to decide whether or not anything had been added. Wilmington keyed up the video, then coaxed the boys over. The children curled up at opposite ends of the big couch, and each of them was wrapped up in a thick blanket. The two men settled into the recliners nearby as the live action adaptation of the popular cartoon of their youth began.

Larabee picked up the glass of tea from the table beside him and silently saluted his friend. Buck grinned and raised his own glass. It was Christmas Eve and they were wrapped in the comfort of their little family. Life couldn't be better.

Life could not be any worse.

Ezra groaned and plopped back on the mattress of his cold bed, praying that the peace that had finally descended on his once happy abode would continue.

It didn't.

"No amount of time off is worth this," the agent growled as he pushed himself back off the bed and stomped toward the escalating racket. He was bone weary, and his contused derriere was causing him to limp painfully. Opening the door cautiously, he entered the kitchen area, watching closely for signs of further booby-traps. Finding none in evidence, he still walked carefully across the still damp linoleum. He had swept and mopped the entire kitchen four times already, and still fancied that it reeked.

"What on earth could you two want now?" He croaked the words tiredly. "I have given you attention, not to mention the larger portion of my steak at dinner. I have done everything on the list and more, and you have the gall to continue your complaints? I daresay that I have never had two such unappreciative houseguests in my life!"

His guests simply looked up at him from where they sat, then returned to their impromptu concert.

"Good Lord! Cease and desist, both of you!" Holding his hands over his ears, Standish glared at the duo, to no avail. The concert continued. He slumped to the floor in defeat, shaking his head. "What on Earth could you still want?"

In answer, the Southerner's overnight guests stumbled and tumbled across the floor, advancing on him with gay abandon.

"Ah, hell!" Standish cried out, just as he was bowled over by his overly exuberant guests to lie in a dejected heap on the cold, damp floor.

"Vin?"

"Yeah?"

"You awake?"

"No, I'm talkin' in my sleep."

"Oh, uh..." JD stuttered, not certain what to do if Vin was asleep.

"Geez... whattaya want, JD?"

"Um, I... are you awake?"

"Yeah," the older boy was becoming exasperated.

"Okay," the younger boy paused, sorting out what he had meant to say. Finally he began chattering in his usual manner. "Do you wanna go see if San'a came? We could sneak in 'ere real quiet 'n check. If we're real quiet Chris an' Da won't hear us I'll bet then we could sneak back in 'ere an' if we're real quiet they won't know we're awake do you wanna go see? Maybe San'a left one of our presents unwrapped like last year, 'member? An' we prob'ly got stockin's in there, too. Let's go see, do y' wanna?"

"Geez JD, settle down. Y' know th' rules... we cain't go in th' den 'til it gets daylight, an' we gotta wake up Chris 'n Buck 'fore we do. Y' 'member what happened las' year."

"Yeah," the little brunet sighed, remembering. He and Vin had gotten into an argument, which had turned into a wrestling match that knocked over a lamp, broke the limited edition stein Chris had given Buck as a gift, and nearly sent the Christmas tree through the window. Fortunately for the boys, their adopted fathers had heard the ruckus and come running, separating the tiny wrestlers. Christmas had been delayed by two hours, while they had cleaned up the mess and spent an hour in their rooms

"Then shut up an' go back t' sleep."

The dark room was quiet for a good five minutes. JD wanted to go to be good, he really did. But he was getting itchier by the minute and that, combined with the mind-bending excitement over the coming celebration, made it very difficult. He could barely lay still for a full minute before some part of his little body would start itching. He knew he wasn't supposed to scratch, and his Da had clipped his nails down as far as they could be trimmed, but he still found himself scratching. He tried laying on his back... his side... his stomach... but there was no position that was even a little comfortable. With a dramatic sigh he sat up.

"Vin?"

"What?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah," the word was delivered in a groan.

"What if we only went t' th' doorway?"

"Go t' sleep, JD."

Ezra groaned, trying in vain to get comfortable. Lying on a blanket in the middle of his kitchen floor was not the place to accomplish this. He had no other choice as far as he could see, however. Groaning again, he tried to turn to his side, but found the way blocked by a small body. Moving to roll to the other side, he found a second body resting against him. This one lay on its back, legs in the air, snoring contentedly. And it had gas.

Life was incredibly unfair. He had envisioned himself enjoying a good dinner and an even better bottle of wine on Christmas Eve. He had considered listening to classical music on the impressive new stereo system he had gifted himself with for the holiday, while he entertained a certain young redhead he had met recently.

He never once expected to share the night in the company he found himself in.

Cursing his fate, the Southerner pushed himself stiffly from the hard, cold floor. Managing to gain his feet without disturbing anyone, he padded from the room as quietly as possible, one hand pressed tightly against his bruised backside. He headed for the shower deciding that, if he timed it right, he could make his delivery just as the sun rose. Then, he would bow out gracefully, return home and crawl into bed. If he was very lucky, he would sleep until the new year was underway.

Buck heard the door to his bedroom open, followed by the soft sounds of a tiny pair of feet crossing the floor. He lay still, eyes opened only a crack as he watched the approach of his son. The bed shifted slightly as JD crawled onto the mattress, settling in at the foot. He felt the mattress bounce slightly, but didn't respond. A short time later, it bounced a second time. The motion was repeated for a full minute, but he still lay there, seemingly oblivious.

"Da?"

Still he remained unmoving. The mattress bounced again, and he could tell the little brunet was crawling closer.

"Da?"

"Mmmm?" He feigned a sleepy voice.

"Da... you awake?"

"Hm? What? That you, li'l bit?"

"Yeah... you awake?"

"I reckon. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. Can we get up now? It's almost sunup, Vin said so. Can we?"

Frowning, the big man pretended to be confused. "Get up? Why? Are you late for school?"

"Daaaaa-aaaaa," the small child whined.

"Whaaaaaa-aaaat?" Wilmington responded.

"Get up! It's Christmas!"

"Christmas? Are you sure?"

In response, the little boy launched himself across the bed, pouncing on his father's broad chest. He reached out with chubby hands, working to pry open the big man's eyes. Buck decided he had two choices... open them, or risk ending up with a little thumb in each socket. As he opened his eyes, he lifted the tyke above him then lowered him to blow 'raspberries' on the little belly that peeked out from beneath the flannel pajama shirt.

It was then that he remembered the Calamine lotion covered blisters.

Quickly depositing the tiny boy on the mattress, Wilmington made a mad dash for the bathroom to wash the lotion from his lips and tongue. He was just glad that he had already had the Chicken Pox. He just hoped the virus couldn't spread something to his mouth... especially with New Years Eve fast approaching.

As the big man exited the bathroom some fifteen minutes later, still wiping at his mustache, he found his adopted son sprawled in the middle of the bed, sound asleep.

Chris grumbled under his breath as he scuffed toward the front door, wondering who was pounding on it. He pushed back the curtains and tried to make out the figure standing there in the shadows of the front porch. His mind finally registered the need for light, and flipped on the one hanging on the porch. Ezra stood there, a rather battered box in his arms. Pulling the door open, he pushed the smaller man back and joined him in the cold, pre-dawn air.

"What are you doing here already?" He hissed the question angrily.

"It is morning. You said to bring them here first thing in the morning. Here we all are."

"I never expected you to wake up this early!"

"One must go to sleep before one is able to wake up," the Southerner said, rather testily.

Looking the smaller man over, Larabee saw just how rough he looked. Dark circles surrounded the green eyes, and his usually immaculate hair was sticking up in a variety of directions. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and seemed to emit a strange odor. Smiling compassionately, the bigger man said, "rough night?"

Glaring at the other man as if he had just made the most foolish remark possible, Standish opened his mouth to make an acerbic reply, but closed it before he uttered a word about his trials, including the latest one that saw his carefully chosen attire ruined as he spent long minutes trying to round up his guests. He feared that if his two surrogate nephews were anywhere in the vicinity their education in foul language would be increased considerably if he spoke at all.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry. I'll try to make it up to you... how about an extra week off?"

"Fine... perhaps I'll even be able to finish redecorating my kitchen in that time."

Wincing, the blond said, "I'll pay for anything you have to repair... I promise. For now, let's take everything out to the barn." He led the way, robe flapping in the crisp morning air, carrying the bag he found sitting beside the angry man. Ezra tromped behind him, carrying the box.

"Might I ask, why didn't you simply leave them out there last night?"

"Do you know how loud these things can get?" Turning when he got no answer, he read the look on Standish's face. "Uh, yeah, I guess you do. We were afraid the boys might hear them. Honestly, Ezra, I didn't expect things to get this bad."

The men disappeared into the barn, emerging a short time later without their burdens. Larabee led the way back into the house, ushering the bedraggled man into his master suite. Standish had been set to return home, but Chris had coaxed him to stay with the offer of his shower. A change of clothes and a bed, promising the young agent he could sleep until the others arrived.

Padding down the hallway, Chris decided to peek in on the boys. Vin sat on his bed, flipping through the pages of one of the big picture books Josiah had given him. The little boy looked up, smiling broadly as his father entered the room.

"Merry Christmas!"

Chuckling, the blond man replied, "Merry Christmas, Cowboy. Where's JD?"

Shaking his head, the little boy said, "he couldn't wait no more, so he went in t' talk t' Buck. C'n I get up now?"

Smiling, the big man, "sure, we might as well. Let's go check and see if Little Bit's talked Buck's ear off yet."

Vin climbed from beneath the covers, standing on the mattress. Lifting his arms up, he was lifted into the strong arms of his father. Wrapping his arms around the strong neck, he snuggled against the broad shoulder. They moved down the hall to Buck's room, Chris knocking quickly before entering the room. He stopped, chuckling at the sight before him. Buck lay sprawled across his bed, JD draped over his chest. The blond heard a giggle and looked to see Vin peering at the sleeping father and son.

"Reckon we c'n wait a little longer," the eight-year-old said wistfully. Even though he smiled at his father, the big man could see a hint of disappointment in the expressive eyes.

"Nope, it's time to get this show on the road," Larabee said decisively. He strode across the room and slapped a big, bare foot peeking from beneath the covers. "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Blue eyes shot open, and the big man jerked as if he'd been shot. His movement caused the little body sprawled atop him to tumble off, and JD's eyes flashed open. He took in the fact that Chris and Vin were standing beside the bed, registered the loud greeting, and bounced to his feet, calling out, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Wilmington groaned, dropping his head back to the pillow. "Y' all are just too da... darn cheerful for this hour."

"And you're turning into Ezra. Now, come on and get up. I seem to remember you volunteering to make your special pancakes for breakfast."

Scrubbing a hand across his face and then holding both hands up in mock surrender, the mustached man said, "yeah, okay. Give me ten minutes to wake up, okay? Then I'll get breakfast going."

"PRESENTS FIRST!" Came a chorus from the two smallest members of the family.

Larabee feigned shock. "You mean you'd rather open up presents than eat Buck's special pan - "

"YES!" The duet continued.

Laughing, the blond reached out a hand and helped the other man to his feet. Buck grabbed up JD, slinging the little boy over his shoulder. The little patchwork family went into the den, where piles of presents peeked from around the branches of the big tree in the corner.

The next half hour consisted of Chris and Buck helping the two boys in finding their gifts, guarding those that weren't to be opened until the rest of their guests arrived, and mentally cataloging how many gifts required batteries or "some assembly". At the end of the marathon of flying bits of colorful paper, the boys set amongst an assortment of toys, books, clothes, and stuffed animals. The two men sat in their recliners, enjoying the looks of awe on the little, cherubic faces.

"Well, reckon I'll go start on the pancakes," Buck said, pushing the foot rest down on his chair.

Vin and JD exchanged a look that said quite clearly they had forgotten something.

"Wait Buck!" Vin yelped. "Me 'n JD's got somethin' fer you an' Dad."

The big man settled back in the chair, and grinned over at the blond beside him. Turning back to the boys, he said, "is this what you two were whispering about with your Uncle Josiah?"

Exchanging glances, the two boys rolled their eyes at the memory of Buck trying his hardest to sneak around and find out what they had purchased with their hard earned money. Besides their allowance, they had squirreled away money earned doing 'odd jobs' for the other members of team seven since the beginning of October. The big man had tried sneaking up on them while they discussed their plans, attempted to gather information from the usually loose-lipped JD, and even made a go at bribing them. Nothing had worked, and he was just as in the dark now as he was then.

The two boys giggled, but didn't answer Wilmington. Instead they hurried from the room, the sound of small, running feet, echoing through the big house. They were back in a minute, roughly wrapped gifts clutched in their hands. JD slid to a stop in front of Buck, and Vin skidded to a halt before Chris. They shyly but proudly presented the gifts to their fathers.

On their parts, the two men quickly recognized the importance of this moment. They sat up in the seats, accepting the gifts, each man smiling broadly. They spent several minutes admiring the crude wrapping jobs, complete with thick masses of cellophane tape across the jaggedly cut edges. Their admiration drew impatient stares from the two boys.

"C'mon, Da," JD fussed, "open it!"

"Yeah, c'mon, Dad!" Vin chimed in.

The two fathers carefully opened the gifts, managing to break through the over abundance of tape to do so. Finally they opened the gifts. And both men fought back tears at the almost identical gifts. Each boy presented them with a leather picture frame, each with a special message stamped along the front edge. Chris traced "I love you Dad... Vin", while Buck gazed lovingly at "For My Special Da... JD" beneath the glass of Chris' was a picture of he and Vin on Pony's back. In Buck's was a picture of he and JD holding up their catch during a fishing trip.

Vin rested a hand on his adopted father's knee, gazing up at the blond's face with a worried expression. As Larabee looked into his little face, he said, "Dad? Is it okay? Are y' dis'poin'ed?"

"What? No!" Larabee hurriedly scrubbed a hand across his eyes and scooped the distressed little boy into his arms. "It's perfect, little man, absolutely perfect."

Vin smiled proudly and hugged his father's neck. "I's afraid y' didn't like it. I'm... I'm glad it's okay."

JD was watching his adoptive father's big eyes fill with tears, and gulped. Pushing the unruly mop of dark hair back off his face, he said in a near-whisper, "Da? Are you okay?"

Grinning from ear to ear, the dark-haired man pulled the tyke into his lap, holding the framed picture so they could both admire it. "I couldn't be more okay, Li'l Bit. I couldn't be more okay."

The only sound for several minutes was the soft music of Christmas Carols, as the two men sat, arms wrapped around their sons, sharing that special moment. Then, just as Bing Crosby finished crooning "White Christmas", JD wiggled in the big burnet's lap.

"Da, my 'shicken pops' are itchy, can you paint me pink again?"

Buck Wilmington's pancake banquet went over well, the boys allowed to eat to their heats content. Ezra had even made an appearance, surprising not only the boys, but Buck as well. The auburn-haired agent had stared in open amazement at the wide variety of foodstuffs spread out across the sideboard. Wilmington had started the night before, and had not failed to impress one and all with his culinary expertise.

Blueberry, chocolate chip, walnut, banana, buckwheat, even plain pancakes, all surrounded with a variety of toppings. The table was filled with bowls, cups and pitchers of whipped cream, strawberries, cherries, blueberries, powdered sugar, peanut butter, raspberry jam, and, finally, at least five types of syrup.

Standish joined the family for breakfast, watching as even Chris Larabee indulged in rather unique combinations from the offering. He wasn't surprised to watch Buck Wilmington devour a short stack of banana pancakes covered in peanut butter and Karo syrup. However, watching the blond construct a tower of alternating chocolate chip and walnut pancakes, smothering the entire thing in warm maple syrup was certainly nothing he had ever expected to witness. Partaking in buckwheat pancakes and a cup of black coffee, Standish returned to his borrowed bed for another nap before their fellow agents joined them.

Looking over his fourth cup of coffee, Chris winked, giving Buck a signal. When his friend smiled in return, blue eyes glittering with excitement, the blond cleared his throat. "Well, the others won't be here 'til this afternoon, so I guess we'll have time to do some chores. Why don't you boys go get dressed and we'll go see to the horses?"

The two children looked disappointed, but didn't comment. Thoughts of spending the rest of the day in their pjs, happily exploring each of their gifts, gave way to the bright light of reality. Putting on brave faces, they left the room, not witnessing the quiet bouts of laugher their father's shared. Ten minutes later, they returned, dressed for work. Joining the two men, they trudged toward the barn.

The horses were tended, Chris and Buck keeping the boys talking and distracted until the work was finished. Larabee had brought a boom box with them, playing the soundtrack from How the Grinch Stole Christmas far more loudly than usual. From time to time either Vin or JD would note a strange sound coming from the far end of the barn, but the adults would shrug it off, saying that it was probably the wind.

It was only after the music was turned off that they heard the noises clearly. Vin stared at JD and then looked up at Chris. JD stared at Vin and then looked up at Buck.

"Da, that sounds like a puppy," little Dunne said in a serious, worried tone.

"Mebbe someone dumped on off up th' road 'n it found it's way here," Vin said, just as seriously.

Feigning a frown, the blond managed to keep a straight face as he said, "maybe we'd better check it out, huh?"

Nodding in tandem, the little boys crept toward the sound, their hands clenching those of the two men. Just as they reached the farthest stall, a high pitched, forlorn howl erupted. The boys jumped, JD wrapping his arms around one of Buck's legs, while Vin stood as close to Chris as a self-respecting eight-year old could. The two men exchanged looks, caught between continuing the ruse and keeping the children from having nightmares on Christmas night.

The appearance of a little black nose between the slats of the stall sent the nightmares scurrying, as the little boys realized that there was not threat beyond the wooden walls. JD squealed, dropping to his knees and peering between the boards.

"VIN! Come look... PUPPIES!"

Little Tanner tumbled down beside his friend, peering into the stall. Little mouth opening and closing in shocked amazement, he turned to their guardians. "Puppies! I... we... puppies? Dad? We... Santa brought us puppies?"

Pretending to be puzzled, the blond said, "I don't know! Why don't we go check things out?"

Nodding, Vin gained his feet and took his father's hand. JD followed suit, and they entered the stall. Two roly-poly puppies stumbled and tumbled through the straw and immediately pounced on the boys. Vin found himself the recipient of sloppy, wet 'kisses' from a black and white, blue-eyed Malamute. JD was pinned to the floor by a brown eyed, Golden Retriever.

The barn was filled with squeals, yips, and laughter as the two men watched their sons become acquainted with their special Christmas gifts. They were also amazed at the fact that the puppies gravitated toward the child they had been purchased for. Weeks of carefully crafted ruses to discover each child's favorite canine been followed by an exhaustive search for the right puppies. That led to three weeks board with a trainer who worked with the little dogs on getting along with one another and rudimentary obedience. In the end, it had all worked far better than either man could have hoped for.

The two fathers stood leaning against the stall's wall, joyfully watching the boys and the puppies. Buck smiled broadly, looking over at his oldest friend. Lightly punching the man in the arm, he said happily, "I think we done good, pard."

The big house was filled with wonderful smells and the sounds of happiness. Josiah, the Travis family, Nettie Wells and her visiting niece, Casey, and the Potter family had all gathered for a gift exchange and dinner at the big house. All of the visitors had been carefully screened and found to have already had chicken pox. Ezra emerged from Chris' room, clean-shaven and dressed in a borrowed outfit from his host. David and Katie Potter, Casey Wells and Billy Travis were all taken to the barn to see the Christmas puppies. The two proud owners spoke wisely about the little canines, from their hours of experience with them. They were each trying out names, but neither had settled on one yet.

It took some coaxing to get the children to come inside to eat. They were sent to wash up, then settled in at the table set up in the den. They watched A Christmas Story while they ate, squeals of laughter erupting from the big room from time to time as something funny occurred on the big screen TV.

After dinner and its clean up, the children were distracted from the movie so they could open yet more gifts. Both Vin and JD were surprised to find several presents had appeared that were for their new pets. The little Malamute received a harness and leash in blue while the Retriever's came in red. Chew toys, balls, and beds large enough to grow into were received.

The guests left shortly afterward, leaving the two agents to help their sons get the dogs settled in. The boys had collected a list of names throughout the day, and began to try them out on the little canines. Calls of "Balto", "Simba", "Rocky", "Sam", "Blue", and "Dave" netted no results. But Vin's dog bounded toward him at the call of "Ringo", while JD was the recipient of a wet kiss at the call of "Elvis". Buck looked aghast at the choice, but the others agreed that it seemed to fit.

The boys and their dogs spent the evening playing in the den, and learning about the responsibilities of pet ownership. Elvis learned about not chewing on extension cords, and Ringo learned about not waiting to go outside to relieve himself. Each incident was used as a learning experience for both boy and dog, with their fathers patiently teaching them how to deal with each issue.

JD's chicken pox began to wear on the little boys patience, and Buck took him for another soak in the tub. Elvis trailed behind them, leaving Chris, Vin and Ringo in the den. Chris watched from his recliner as his son lay on the floor, the little dog stretched out beside him.

"How'd San'a know?" The little Texan asked, looking up at his Father with a puzzled expression on his face.

"How did Santa know what?"

"That I wanted a dog like Ringo? I didn't write it in m' letter 'r nothin'."

Larabee opened his mouth, closed it, and tried to think of an explanation. He and Wilmington hadn't considered this particular question. "Well... I guess he just knows your wishes."

Vin looked up at the blond, studying him for a moment. Finally, with a sage nod of his head, the child said, "reckon so."

Finally getting the excited and exhausted children ready for bed, Chris and Buck escorted them to their room, carrying the puppies. Neither boy was happy to see a large pet 'crate' placed between their beds. Even the promise that the dogs would be allowed more freedom as time went by left Vin staring tight-lipped and stoically at the big cage, while JD cried openly at the thought of his new best friend being 'put in jail' at night.

Settling the boys into bed, Chris sat beside Vin while Buck settled in beside JD. Blue eyes and hazel slowly gave in to the long hours without rest, drooping slowly closed. Inside their crate, Ringo and Elvis followed suit. The two men sat at their little ones bedsides for a while longer, watching the little faces relax and grow peaceful as they drifted toward dreams of running through green fields with their dogs.

Chris Larabee yawned broadly, stretching as he lounged in his recliner. The long, hectic day was ending, leaving him with mixed feelings. While he liked the fact the hub-bub of Christmas was over, he felt a little sad at the thought that the magic would fade now, leaving them living ordinary lives until the holiday season returned.

Silence filled the happy home, as he unwound with a glass of wine and watched the evening news. Looking across to the couch, he smiled. Buck lay sprawled out on the couch, snoring softly. The blond wondered at the changes in his life the year had brought, thankful for most of those changes. He wondered at the promise of the coming year, and the miracles it would bring. He knew that he would have to go far to be as happy and content as he was at that very moment.

Life was good.

The End