Miss You (Most at Christmas Time)

Rating: NC-17, incest

Original Date of Completion: December 2002

Disclaimer: I own them both, and you can't have them. Actually, this is 100% fake and conjured in the confines of my VERY demented mind. There are things of a very sensitive nature contained herein, including but not limited to incestuous relations, minor religious mention, and a nun. If any of those things squick you, you might not want to read this. But remember, it is fiction, so you can't sue me.

*************************

The fire is burning
The room's all aglow
Outside the December wind blows
Away in the distance
The carolers sing in the snow
Everybody's laughing
The world is celebrating
And everyone's so happy
Except for me tonight

Because I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right
But then I miss you
Most at Christmas time

I gaze out the window
This cold winter's night
At all of the twinkling lights
Alone in the darkness
Remembering when you were mine
Everybody's smiling
The whole world is rejoicing
And everyone's embracing
Except for you and I

Baby I miss you
Most at Christmas time...

Mariah Carey "Miss You Most (at Christmas Time)"
Used Without Permission

Fireplaces. They always remind me of him. With good reason, I guess. The first night I ever kissed him was in front of a fireplace. Gosh, I was...13, 14 then. It's bad that I don't remember the exact time. But the truth is, being with him just seems like it's something that's always been, like there never was a starting point. Kirk and hockey are about all I've ever known in life. My entire life, they were always the two things that were there for me more than anything. Being with Kirk is as natural to me as breathing. My heart aches when I think about what my life would be like if I'd never kissed him that night. I've come to the conclusion over the years, as our careers have taken us down such different paths; I could never live without him. That's why I'm sitting here right now, cursing whoever decided that there should be a fireplace in my apartment.

He's probably just getting home right now. They played Columbus yesterday, then he and Sean Avery were driving home. I talked to him Sunday, on his birthday, and that's when he told me that Avery was going home with him for Christmas. I tried not to be upset about it, but I couldn't really help it. He's the wrong Sean/Shawn, dammit. I should be the one going home with Kirk for Christmas, for crying out loud they're my parents too. But instead I'm sitting alone in my apartment, thousands of miles away from my family and my friends, and especially Kirk. This is one of those times I could kick myself for ever agreeing to play in England. It was a good career move, but a bad life choice. This would be the first Christmas ever that I would be without him.

I wish I didn't miss him so much. I wish that I could be doing something other than sitting here and staring at the fireplace, tossing the occasional twig into it, then sniffling for ten minutes while I remembered that first Christmas we'd spent alone. I wish that it didn't hurt me so bad to be away from him. I wish that I hadn't allowed myself to become so dependant on being with him. I wish that things were easier than they are. But most of all, I wish he was here.

I reach to my box of Kleenex only to find that it's empty. With a sigh I toss the box into the fireplace, watching it as it engulfs in flames. That sadly just brings back more memories; memories of the time Kirk threw batteries in the fire, and then freaked out when they exploded and caught the carpet on fire. I couldn't stop laughing that night, even though I knew our parents were going to kill us for the big charred spot in the carpet. Kirk was so worried of what our parents would do, he just kept pacing around the room and swearing at how stupid he was. It took me tackling him onto the couch and kissing him for hours for him to even start calming down. He didn't completely calm down until we made love, and then he fell asleep. While he slept, I dragged the area rug from the den in and covered the burnt spot. It took another year before our parents even figured out it was there...

The memories bring back the tears, and frustrated with myself I stand up and walk out of the room. I tried to tell myself a million times to just be strong, for once in my life. I knew from the second I signed the contract to play here that we wouldn't be together on Christmas. But even with that knowledge, it didn't get any easier. All I could do was sit here and remember all of the Christmas' we had together, or imagine what he was doing right now. For the last week, he's been all I can think about. It was usually that way, but now, on Christmas, it was even worse. I feel almost crippled, like I can't walk, or talk, or even breathe without him. There's one surefire way to take care of that, but so far I've been reluctant. I've really got no choice now, I can't stay like this all night. I grab my jacket and slip it on as I step from my apartment. I see a couple standing down the hall, kissing beneath mistletoe the guy is holding above their heads. I jam my eyes closed and turn away from them, letting my door slam shut behind me. A few too many memories would come from that if I allowed them, but I wasn't going to. Nope, I was going to make sure I didn't remember anything else for the rest of the night. One good thing about England, there are bars open on Christmas.

* * *

After about five beers I finally realize that comfort just isn't coming for me. I could drink myself stupid and probably still think of Kirk. Actually, no probably about it, I would think of him, because stupid drunk reminds me of him too. I don't think there is anything that doesn't remind me of him. Whipped cream, paint, snow, postage stamps, everything. I guess I'm a bit obsessed. Like I said, he's pretty much all I know in life. I don't really know what that says about me.

I slapped a five down on the bar and left without another word. The streets were amazingly busy for Christmas day. They're not crowded by any means, but just seeing people walking around at all on Christmas is a new thing for me. Back home everyone stays inside, drinking egg nog and opening presents and what not. Here people go out and drink, then walk the streets holding hands and kissing like the couple walking in front of me. I don't know how I wind up seeing every couple who decides to kiss today. First the people in my building, then people at the bar, and now these people. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was some kind of divine punishment for being in love with my brother. But if I were really going to be punished for that, odds are it would've happened 9, 10 years ago when we first happened. And even if this was punishment now, it was more than worth it to be with him. Except that I'm not with him right now, so seeing all these couples pretty much sucks.

But even though the couples are out in full force, I can't bring myself to go back to my apartment yet. Doing that would just assure me I'd spend all night crying and go through another 20 boxes of Kleenex. I just needed to be away for a while. I had no doubts in my mind that this night would end with me sobbing and wishing Kirk was there to hold me and take away my tears. But just for right now, I needed to be away from that. I needed some time away from the tears, even if I was just going to spend the entire time thinking about how I missed him. I've given up trying to fight that, the feeling was just too strong. But I could keep the tears at bay. And if walking around town in the freezing cold was what did that, I was going to do it as long as I could.

It amazes me even more as my walk grows longer how much activity there is on Christmas. People are walking around like nothing, stores are open, and the music from the bars provides a faint background music that sounds nothing like silver bells. I guess this place doesn't shut down for Christmas. And I hate that. Everything here is so different. All I want is the same. I just want egg nog, and gingerbread men, and Christmas trees, is that too much to ask for? Yeah, I figured as much.

Really, all I want is to be home. I've never felt so alone in my life as I do right now. I'm walking the streets alone on Christmas. And it's not to get anywhere, no one is home waiting for me to get back. The only thing there is a fireplace full of memories, and a box of Kleenex with my name on it. All I'll do when I finally get back is sit there and stare into the fire, waiting for it to spring some other memory alive, like the pop of a pine log. And then I'll cry, sobbing my eyes out until they can no longer stay open and mercifully the sandman takes me to Dreamland. When I dream, I'll dream of him, starting the entire pitiful routine all over again. How long will this routine last? I don't really know. All I do know is that I want to delay it as long as possible. But really, that's just me putting off the inevitable.

Maybe I shouldn't go back. Maybe I should just keep walking until I get hypothermia and fall into a gutter. At least I'd leave a pretty blue corpse. Or maybe I should just walk until I reach Buckingham Palace, where the Queen will decide to take me in off the streets and give me a magic airplane to fly back and see my brother, before the pain of missing him gets so intense it chokes the entire country. Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly and I'll win a Stanley Cup with Buffalo. Maybe I should really just keep walking until I hit St. Vincent's church, where I could sit and listen to the choir all night. Actually, that doesn’t sound that bad. At least there I wouldn't be alone. And maybe they'll just sing In Excelsis Deo all night, I think that's the only song that won’t bring up some memory...

* * *

So much for In Excelsis Deo. I've been here for about 10 minutes now, and so far I've heard O Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night, and Hark the Herald Angels Sing, all of which have some kind of memory tied to them. I can't even put into words how insane I feel right now; sitting by myself in a church on Christmas, on the brink of tears because I can't stop remembering how Kirk and I used to get up before our parents on Christmas day and cuddle in front of the TV to watch A Very Brady Christmas. Or how Silent Night was forever changed for me when Kirk sang it to me as we were falling asleep our first night together. Or how when I broke my arm one Christmas, he cheered me up by singing Hark the Herald Angels Sing on the way to the hospital. I really don't know why I'm even trying to fight it anymore. I think I'm just meant to cry today; no matter what I try to do to stop them, the tears just keep battling through. I give up, tears do your worst.

As the drops start to flow from my eyes, I sigh and lay my head against the pew in front of me. I feel even more ridiculous now, but I've given up trying to fight that tonight. It is insane how much I miss him, how much my happiness really depends on him, but that's just the way it is. I love him, and there's nothing I could or would do to change that. Even if I could take this pain away right now, I still wouldn’t do it. The times we've shared, and the love I have for him is more than worth this pain. I'd endure this pain for a thousand years as long as I knew that I could still be with him when all was said and done. He's my life, an intrinsic part of me that I can't function long without. That's why this is so hard, the reserve power I had is gone, and without it I’m slowly fading. I don't know how much more I can fade before I'm completely gone. I need him. I need him to touch me, to kiss me, to just recharge me and make me keep going. But I can't have that, he's thousands of miles away, probably sitting down to dinner right now. And I'm in a church trying to remember what it feels like for his lips to be on mine, or for his hands to caress my back, or my hair....How wrong is it for me to be thinking about this in a church...

"Son?" A voice startles me from my thoughts.

Without even thinking my head springs up, and my eyes connect with the worn eyes of a nun. I wipe at my eyes quickly to dispel any evidence I'd been sitting here crying for the past 10 minutes, but those attempts prove futile as the nun speaks.

"Are you all right?" She asks kindly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I sniffled, pulling myself to my feet. "These songs just kind of get to me," I smiled in my best dismissive smile, but it proved pointless as she stayed in front of me, blocking my exit from the pew.

"It's not good to lie to a nun," She returned, a quiet look of amusement on her face.

I tried to think of a good reply, but my brain revolted against me long ago. The only response I could manage was to blink and stutter an "I didn't mean..."

"Please, sit down," She spoke softly, motioning to the pew with her hand.

I sit down obediently, sliding down a bit for her to sit down. She stepped into the pew slowly, then sat down beside me. I'm suddenly beginning to think giving up my fight against the tears so soon was a bad thing. I hadn't planned on letting anyone see me cry today, especially not a nun. But I'd failed at that, and now a nun sat beside me with such a look of concern on her face, I knew there was no way I could just run away like I really wanted to do.

"Now please, my child, tell me what it is that has brought you to tears on this glorious day," She said with a smile, resting her hands in her lap.

I sighed and turned from her, staring at the choir at the front of the church. "I'm just missing someone," I lied truthfully, resting my arms on the pew in front of me.

"Ah, and this person is very special to you, yes?"

"Yes, very," I whispered, closing my eyes to stop the tears as they formed. "You might say they’re my life,"

"I understand now why you were crying here alone on Christmas day. Where is this special person today?"

"Canada," I sighed, brushing a hand through my hair. "Probably just sitting down to dinner right now. And I'm all the way over here, talking to a nun. No offense,"

"None taken," She chuckled, easing forward in the pew to meet my eyes. "I'm sure that I'm the last person you would like to be with right now. I can see how much it aches you to be here this evening, away from this special person,"

I took a ragged breath, releasing it slowly with a nod. "Yes,"

"Sometimes my child, things just don't go the way we'd hoped for. And it can be quite painful, I know. But you mustn't sit and be miserable, I'm sure that your special person wouldn't want that," She said softly, resting her hand on my elbow.

"I guess not..."

"I know things seem bleak right now, but they will get better. That is the way of life,"

I stopped for a second and thought, letting my mind drift away to its own place. Maybe she was right. Things have been like this before, it's not like I've spent every single day with Kirk for the last 10 years, but they've always gotten better. I guess I just let myself get worked up over the day. This was my first Christmas alone after all. And I did miss him. A lot more than I think I ever have. But she was right, Kirk wouldn't want me to sit around and be miserable. I know how upset he would be if he found out that I'd been doing nothing but crying over him all day. I still had no doubts that I'd end this night sitting around and wishing he was here. But in the mean time, I didn't have to be so miserable.

"Thank you," I spoke, turning back to her with a smile. "You've really made me feel better,"

"I'm glad, child," She stated as she slowly got to her feet. "It is my job to help those in need. I hope the rest of your Christmas can be much happier now,"

"It will be, thank you,"

She smiled, but never said another word as she turned and walked away. I stood bewildered for a moment, asking myself if I really had just had a conversation with a nun. The only answer I could come up with was yes, even as outlandish as that sounded to my own ears. That would certainly go down as a rather memorable Christmas memory for me. Out of all the stuff in the entire would I saw myself doing today, talking to a nun was not one of them. In fact, talking to a nun wasn't a memory I expected to EVER have. But it honestly wasn't that bad. A nun was the last person I wanted to have a conversation with about the things I was crying about, but she really made me feel better, somehow. Walking all the way to this church was a good idea; I don't think I would've gotten this feeling of relief from the bartender at the Brownstone. What a story I'd have to tell Kirk later on when he called...

Oh shit, he's going to call, and I'm not there. How in the Hell did that slip my mind? Amidst my misery I forgot that there was actually going to be a bright spot in this day. Maybe walking all the way to this church wasn't such a bright idea after all. Because now I'm miles away from home, and he could be calling any minute. And as I step outside of the church, I see instantly that it's gotten much colder and snow has began to fall. This ought to be a nice brisk three mile jog. I kinda wish I had my skates right now, from the look of the road I could probably skate home in nothing flat. But sadly I don't have them, leaving me to rely on my feet to take me home in a hurry. And I know me, if I miss this call I'll be right back in the misery. And dammit, I didn't talk to a nun to put her words to waste.

I jog as fast as I can, hesitating to break into a full run for fear of ice beneath the falling snow. The chilly air zaps any chance of that anyway with each gust of wind that throws snow into my face. My breath quickly becomes short gasps, the arctic air stinging my lungs with each breath. As much as my legs revolt, I force myself to keep going, jogging almost blindly through the cold. With each step I take it seems to get colder, like tiny sheets of ice forming across my skin. All thoughts of anything but the cold are lost, but numbly I continue on my trek. By the time I reach my building my entire body aches from the cold. I almost cry out as my hand wraps around the doorknob, but the sound never leaves my lips. It's not until I'm in the building shielded from the cold that I'm sure my voice even works. And even then it's just a whispered "About fucking time."

But even being inside the heated corridor doesn't chase the cold away. I can still feel it stabbing at my skin, my blood feeling like ice. I really hope that I have firewood left; a fire would chase away this cold a lot quicker than regular heat and hot cocoa would. Slowly I trudge up the stairs, clinging to the guardrail to support my weary legs. The three flights up to my apartment seem to take forever, my legs getting more tired with each movement. The only thing I can think of at this point is crawling beneath my quilt and falling asleep in front of the fire. Any energy I had was stolen by the greedy cold, along with any strength and feeling. When my door appears before me, I breathe a sigh of relief and stumble to it quickly. The knob is just a brief formality, and I'm inside and on the couch in seconds.

The heat surrounds me quickly, but still I reach for the quilt and wrap it around me. I lay back on the couch with a sigh, cuddling the fleece of the quilt against my face. Feeling begins its return slowly, starting with my fingers, leaving a dull ache in them as the warmth returns. The rest of my body still shivers from the cold, a bitter reminder that I had to leave the confines of the quilt and build a fire. Reluctantly I pull the quilt from me and drape it across the back of the couch. But as I do that I catch my first look at the fireplace, and I have to blink a few times to make sure I'm really seeing it. The fire is already going, small flames flickering behind the glass, casting faint shadows around the room. I know there's no way that the wood I'd had in there before I was gone could've kept burning the entire time...

"What the hell?" I whisper, walking across to the fireplace.

As I approach the fireplace, I finally see the package sitting on the hearth. I approach it cautiously; this is a bit too Bruce Willis, action movie bomb for me. I kneel beside the hearth and slide the package to me. There's nothing on the outside besides the brown mailing paper, no address, no name tag, nothing. But it's not ticking, so I'm going to assume all is okay. I slowly tear into the paper, discarding it messily onto the floor as it's ripped from the box. When the box is naked, I lift the top from it and stare inside, my eyes seeing nothing but various colored tissue paper. My mind tries to jump to immediate conclusions, but I don't allow the thoughts to completely form. Instead I just claw at the tissue paper, throwing it around like a child on Christmas morning, until my eyes catch a glimpse of the stuffed reindeer. Tears fill my eyes in an instant, my mind finally being allowed to think those thoughts that it had wanted to all along. My heart races in my chest as I pull the reindeer from the box. A silver tag hangs from the ear, glimmering in the firelight. As I read over the tag those thoughts I'd had become reality, with two simple words scribbled in unmistakable print.

Turn Around.

I clutch the reindeer in my hand, my eyes fluttering shut as I slowly begin to turn. I know he's going to be there, I could never mistake the writing on the tag. But part of me is still scared that this is all a dream, and the second I turn around I'm going to wake up and realize that. That's why even when I'd turned around my eyes remained closed. My pulse rang in my ear, my breaths no more than nervous gasps. I tried to open my eyes, but they clenched themselves closed before I could even focus. I did that only twice before I heard footsteps coming toward me. I clutched the reindeer tightly in my hand, trying to steady my shaky body. Those attempts failed, but as his hand caressed my arm, all shakes were ceased.

"Kirk?" I whispered, leaning against his chest and slipping my arms around his back.

"I'm here, Shawnie," He murmured, his lips pressing against my temple. "I'm here,"

"How?" I whispered again, my eyes amazingly remaining closed.

"I couldn't be away from you. Not on Christmas,"

My eyes finally opened, and I stared up at him. His eyes sparkled even in the darkness, and a bright smile graced his lips. He looked more beautiful than he maybe ever had. And there was one simple reason for that: He was here. His hand grazed across my cheek and I turned into it, kissing gently at his fingertips. He sighed, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. I looked up at him and smiled before brushing my lips softly along his cheek. His stubble scratched at my lips, and I couldn't help but smile at the feeling. Even little things like that I missed. The way his stubble felt against my lips, the way his hand caressed the back of my neck each time I kissed him, the way he kept himself pressed so tightly against me; I missed it all. Really, I just missed him. After I'd spent so many nights just wishing he'd be here this night, he was here. Whose to say wishes don't come true on Christmas?

He sighed again as I pulled my lips away. I smiled up at him, and he brushed his fingers through my hair. His lips pressed gently against my forehead, sending shivers down my spine. I collapsed against him with a quiet sigh, garnering a soft chuckle from him. His hands found their way to the waistband of my jeans, and slowly his fingers poked past.

"You're freezing," He whispered into my ear, his hand snaking its way to the button.

I looked up at him and smiled, slipping my cold hands beneath his sweatshirt. "Make me warm,"

His lips pressed against mine as his released the button on my jeans. Slowly he inched both pants and boxers from my waist, never taking his lips away. My hands slipped further up his shirt, goosebumps forming as my hands traveled over his silken skin. Our kiss broke only long enough for the sweatshirt to be discarded before resuming with even more passion. Thankfully my shirt had buttons and was easily disposed of with quick work from experienced hands. As my fingers traveled to his waistband, his caressed softly down the crack of my ass, poking lightly at my opening. I whimpered into the kiss as he pushed a finger inside, thrusting it with gentle force. Slowly I pushed his jeans down, leaving him clad in his typical boxer-briefs.

"Bed?" He breathed, slipping another finger inside me.

I shook my head, pulling him toward me and grinding my crotch against his, hidden beneath his underwear. "Right here," I whispered, biting at his earlobe.

He moaned quietly and slowly nodded his head. I continued to nibble at his earlobe, inching his boxer-briefs down as slowly as possible. I followed them down, kneeling in front of him as I pulled them from his ankles. He looked down at me with that adorable grin he does, and brushed his fingers through my hair. I just smiled as I slowly took him into my mouth. He growled as I held his hips steady, grounding any motions he may've wanted. But his growls soon turned to moans as I began bobbing my head, letting him slip almost completely from my lips before swallowing him back to the hilt. I did that just a few times before he whimpered for me to stop. I let him slip from my mouth, grazing my teeth against him as he pulled away. I looked up at him with an innocent grin, and a soft smile came across his face. He extended a hand down, and I accepted it, being pulled to my feet and straight into his arms.

"Grab onto me," He rasped, kissing beneath my ear.

I obeyed, slipping my arms around him and burying my face in the crook of his neck. In a quick motion I was lifted from my feet and pressed against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him, pressing myself tightly against him as he lifted me slightly more. I could do nothing but whimper as he pressed at my opening. I bit down on his shoulder as slowly he pushed himself into me. My breaths came in gasps as he filled me, not stopping until he reached the hilt. When he was fully sheathed inside me, he stared up at me with a smile and gently grazed his lips against mine.

"I love you," He whispered as he began thrusting.

"Love you...too," I moaned quietly, the pleasure quickly cutting off my words.

His thrusts quickly found a nice rhythm, and he began to bite gently at my chest. I adjusted myself slightly in his grasp, moving so his thrusts hit my prostate each time. I was quickly lost in the pleasure, moaning as he pressed against my prostate, then sighing as he bit down on my nipple. The feelings created from that were more intense than any I'd ever experienced before. This whole experience was more intense than ever before, and I knew exactly why. There was more emotion behind this than any other time, the love, and the passion, and the unbridled longing I'd had to be with him for so long now making my pleasure that much better. This feeling of love, and closeness was what I'd craved, what I'd missed, so much it had made my soul ache. To be here with him right now, to be experiencing this pleasure like never before, it made all of the pain and sadness of the last few days completely worth it. And that fact is just further cemented as he thrusts into me one final time before he loses himself inside me.

He shivers against me as he comes down from orgasm. With a sigh he pulls himself from inside me, dropping me slowly on my feet. Before I even have a chance to move he takes me in his mouth, pressing me gently against the wall. It takes just a few swipes of his tongue before I too lose it, exploding down his throat with a gasp. His lips stay around me until I whimper and push him away. He looks up at me with an innocent smirk, and I can't help but giggle as I slide down to the floor. After all of that, then he decides to look innocent. At least I did it before. Well, no one ever said we were the same.

He scampers over to the couch quickly, pulling the quilt from the back of it before stepping back to me. He drapes it across my shoulders, then cuddles against me, nuzzling at my neck. I sigh contentedly and place a soft kiss on his temple. It's his turn to sigh, but his comes with a soft kiss to my neck. After everything I'd been through today, I could think of no better way to end the day. This is far from the best Christmas of my life. But with this ending, it just may've been saved from being the worst.

"I missed you so bad, baby," He whispered, still nuzzling my neck.

"I missed you too," I murmured, wrapping the quilt further around us. "Most at Christmas time,"

END

HOME