"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la!" Nikita felt like the Grinch who stole Christmas. She clenched her teeth and braved the crowds for more last- minute shopping, but at the cost of her sanity. I swear, she thought, if I hear one more fa la la, I’m going to scream. She loved the holiday this year, but if one more person pushed or shoved her, she was going to lose what was left of her mind.

She waited on the end of a very long line so that the twins could see Santa Claus. Unfortunately, the twins had fallen asleep long ago, and any interest Nikita had in seeing Santa had faded. She pushed the double stroller another inch and sighed wearily. There had to be some magic left in the holidays. She refused to allow the warlike nature of the crowds out to get last-minute bargains to ruin her good humor.

She smiled to herself. Last night, after she and Madeline realized that their simple plan had worked, they had celebrated Declan and Birkoff’s return to the fold. Honestly, Birkoff’s enthusiasm for Christmas was enough for several people. He was basically a child at heart, though he had matured considerably in recent months, and he would probably always be that way. It was indeed part of his boyish charm. As for Declan, he just seemed to be basking in the glow of Birkoff’s love and affection. His reaction to the holidays was more low-key, but just as intense. Between the two of them, the twins would be spoiled beyond belief on Christmas Day.

The line moved another inch. Nikita wondered what to get Michael for Christmas. It had to be something special, but not something obvious. She frowned. She loved a challenge, but this was hard. Maybe she needed to be more imaginative and look for something less tangible. Perhaps there was a fantasy they could explore together. Lost in thought, she barely noticed that the line moved another couple of inches.

A pair of arms grabbed her from behind, and she automatically reacted, elbowing her attacker in the chest. After hearing the muttered "oof", she whirled around, belatedly realizing she had just assaulted her husband.

"Remind me not to sneak up on you ever again," Michael coughed.

Noting they had caught the eye of a few curious onlookers, Nikita muttered loudly enough for some of them to hear, "Good thing I took that self-defense class, honey," while Michael clutched his chest and hid a smile.

Nikita smiled sweetly at her husband. "Did you get the teddy bears for the twins?"

He nodded. "Yes, doucette. I take direction very well." He kissed her on the cheek as the line moved yet one more inch.

"God, how do you stand the lines and the crowds?" He frowned. She reached up and pushed his hair off his forehead. "I think about something else."

"Like?"

Her mouth curved upward gently as she regarded her husband. "Well, Michael, there are too many children around for me to tell you."

"That sounds...promising." He gave her a crooked smile and another kiss, this time on the mouth, lingering just long enough to give both of them something to think about.

"I’m going to finish up my shopping, Kita. Don’t stay too long, okay?"

"I don’t think I have a choice." She looked at the line and then at her watch. "I’ll do the best I can."

By the time it was Nikita’s turn to see Santa, she concluded that the twins were still too young to appreciate Santa Claus. All she had to do to confirm this was to try to wake them. They did not stir at the sound of Santa’s name, but Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and one of Santa’s elves not only woke the twins, but made them cry vociferously. Improvising, Nikita jumped up on Santa’s lap herself, after determining that the twins would be safely in sight and in range first.

This perplexed Santa no end. He wasn’t used to having tall, leggy blondes jump on his lap during the Christmas season. In fact, a few fractious, overtired kids an hour, and that was pretty much his day. Still, force of habit prevailed. "Ho, ho, ho, little girl," he boomed. "And what would you like for Christmas?"

She grinned. This was fun. And the crowd of tired, hungry shoppers seemed to agree. It was definitely the most interesting thing that happened in the last hour. Or two. She tried to think of something she wanted for Christmas.

"World peace?" she said cheerfully.

"Try something a bit more tangible," Santa whispered.

She pondered. "A comforter."

"Better, but more detail, please."

"Black and gold, in a wedding ring pattern. Very unusual. Haven’t been able to find one so far."

Santa gave Nikita a dirty look, then smiled patiently as he turned to face the crowd. "That sounds mighty in-ter-est-ing, little lady. If you’re a good girl, you should find it right under your Christmas tree on Christmas morning."

Nikita couldn’t resist. "And if I’m not a good girl?"

Santa leaned over and whispered, "Meet me round the corner in a half an hour."

She smiled innocently, right before she slapped him, hard, across the face. No oversized, oversexed elf was going to spoil her Christmas. No way.

"Seymour!"

Declan called to Birkoff from the first floor. Birkoff was in charge of putting the twins to bed tonight. It was Christmas Eve. Michael and Nikita had gone to Midnight Mass at the Catholic Church. They were not expected home for a few hours. Walter was already asleep in his room, having finished carving his latest works of art for the twins’ first real Christmas.

The lights were lit on the Christmas tree. Nikita had picked them out herself. They were the tiny, sparkly kind that lit up intermittently, making the entire tree look like a fairy garden. Which, Nikita said, was only fitting, since she had given birth to a fairy princess and a knight in shining armor.

Birkoff came downstairs, his shiny brown hair tied back in a short ponytail, perhaps in unconscious imitation of Declan. "The kids are changed and already asleep again."

Declan nodded. "We have the house to ourselves. I thought I’d make some popcorn, and we could watch a movie."

"Sounds good. Are all the presents wrapped?"

"Everything except ours."

Like two conspirators, they talked in low voices, mostly from force of habit, as there was less danger of being overheard. "It’s Christmas Eve, Declan, you want to exchange gifts now?" Birkoff seemed a bit more anxious than usual, which made Declan suspicious, but it was probably just the excitement of the holidays.

Declan shrugged. "If you like."

"It’s just that I thought it might be better if we exchange these now, while we’re alone."

Declan’s expression never changed, though he was insatiably curious to know what might embarrass Birkoff enough that he wanted to keep it between the two of them. Then he realized something. Birkoff said "these" as if his gift to Declan was plural. That was odd.

Declan put the freshly buttered popcorn into a bowl and brought it into the living room. Before he could click the remote, however, Birkoff stopped him from proceeding. Declan blinked.

"Here." Birkoff nudged Declan with a small, brightly wrapped package. "Open this. It’s for you. From me."

After he took off the wrapping paper, he opened the small box, revealing a sterling silver Claddagh ring. The inside of the ring was flat, so that lettering or initials could be placed inside. "Hey," Declan said, "it’s already got some writing on the inside. What does it say, Seymour?"

Birkoff bit his lip. "It’s just our initials and the date. Do you--like it?"

"It’s beautiful, Seymour. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine or elegant."

Declan reached for Birkoff’s hand and placed the ring in his palm. "What are you doing?"

"I’d like you to put it on me. If that doesn’t bother you."

"Bother me? It’s what I wanted to do, but I was too scared." Birkoff flushed.

Declan stroked Birkoff’s face with the back of his hand. "You have such a sweetness in you, Seymour. I hope you never lose that," he said softly.

Birkoff’s hands shook as he placed the ring on Declan’s left hand. Declan blinked and looked surprised. "Do you know the legend behind the ring, then, Seymour?"

Birkoff nodded. "I downloaded the information from the Internet."

"Then you realize the significance of putting the ring on my left hand?"

Birkoff nodded again. "When it’s worn on the left hand, with the heart turned inwards, it means that two loves have joined forever," Birkoff recited as if from memory. Declan reached down and turned the ring, so the heart was on the inside of his hand.

Declan leaned over, and Birkoff backed away hesitantly. "I only want to kiss you, Seymour." Birkoff smiled, relief evident on his face.

Afterwards, Declan said, "You don’t need to worry, Seymour, I have no intention of leaping on you. Right now, I just want to be able to lie next to you and know that you’re mine. Maybe someday...there will be something else for us. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter."

"It doesn’t?"

"Not to me. All I want from you is your good heart, your companionship and this." He pointed to the ring Birkoff had just placed on his hand. "The heart symbolizes love, the hands friendship, and the crown loyalty or fidelity. Those are the only three things I need."

Birkoff’s dark eyes softened. "I have something else, Declan."

"What?"

He produced a second box, not unlike the first. After unwrapping it, he opened the little box with a flourish. There was an identical ring inside, and Birkoff picked it up carefully. "Would you put it on me?" Birkoff asked huskily.

"Aye, Seymour," said Declan, feeling his heart expand another notch.

His hands trembled as he placed the ring on Birkoff’s finger. "Left hand?"

"Left hand," intoned Birkoff. "Always and forever."

Declan felt as though they had pledged themselves to each other. Always and forever.

Declan withdrew a small package from his pocket and handed it to Birkoff. "This is for you. Merry Christmas."

He watched as Birkoff eagerly tore the colorful wrapping from the box. A fine silver necklace lay inside the box. Declan picked up the necklace and placed it on Birkoff’s neck.

"It’s beautiful, Declan." Birkoff fingered the fine chain around his neck.

Declan touched the necklace, then Birkoff’s face. "This is beautiful." He buried his face against Birkoff’s neck, whispering, "I love you."

Birkoff’s eyes grew wet. "I love you, too."

Declan wrapped his arms around Birkoff, and eventually, Birkoff lay his head on Declan’s shoulder. "Always and forever," he murmured.

"Always and forever," Declan echoed.

The front door opened. Declan started guiltily, which woke Birkoff, who was sleeping on his shoulder. Declan jumped up, almost coming to attention, as Nikita entered the living room, followed by Michael. Nikita smiled, trailing a hand over Birkoff’s head as she passed, ruffling his hair. But she stopped in front of Declan, an enigmatic look on her face.

"Declan, you don’t need to jump up when we come in. This is your home."

"I don’t want you to think that we--"

Nikita bit her lip and glanced from Declan to Birkoff and back again. "I know you have more sense than that, Declan. Don’t be silly." She looked at Birkoff directly. "Are the children okay?"

Birkoff nodded. "They’re fine."

Nikita smiled again. "Good. We’re going to bed." She started to walk away, grasping Michael’s hand and tugging gently for him to follow. "Oh, and guys...if you hear any strange noises, don’t come and investigate...."

Even Declan blushed at that. Birkoff hid his face against his arms in an effort to stifle an irrepressible urge to giggle. Michael merely raised an eyebrow at Nikita.

***

"We’d better get to bed, too, Seymour. The kids will be up early for Christmas Day," Declan said, stretching out an arm to Birkoff. Birkoff took Declan’s hand in his and laughed. "You’re kidding, right? You know they’re not even a year old yet."

Declan grinned. "I meant Michael and Nikita. They’re worse than the twins when it comes to this kind of thing."

Birkoff chuckled. "You’re right."

Declan turned the deadbolt on the front door and returned to where Birkoff was waiting. Birkoff grasped Declan’s hands in his, effectively stopping him from moving. "Declan?"

"Yeah, Seymour?"

"I don’t want to sound stupid, but--"

Declan strummed his fingers against Birkoff’s cheek. "Nothing you say could be stupid. What is it?"

"Whose room are we going to sleep in?"

Birkoff looked so serious, Declan hated to laugh, but it was the last thing he expected to hear. "Uh...does it matter?"

Birkoff shook his head. "Not to me."

Declan’s normally storm-colored eyes took on a definite devilish glint. "There’s no particular etiquette for this, if that’s what you’re asking, Seymour. We can always alternate. Want to flip a coin?"

Birkoff poked Declan in the shoulder. "You’re laughing at me."

"No, Seymour. I would never do that." He smoothed Birkoff’s hair back, where Nikita had disrupted it with her casual touch. He tugged on Birkoff’s ponytail lightly. "Come with me, Seymour. I want you to stay with me."

Birkoff pulled back gently. "Do you really, Declan?"

Declan flashed his ring at Birkoff, and the colorful Christmas tree lights were reflected all too briefly in its depths. "Always and forever."

***

Michael swooped down and kissed the side of Nikita’s neck, making her sigh with frustration. "Michael, you’re so impatient."

"I’m impatient? You made me sit through the entire Mass, just so Declan and Birkoff could be alone on Christmas Eve." Michael nipped at Nikita’s nape. "Not that I’m complaining. It was beautiful."

Nikita turned to face Michael, her eyes sparkling like the fairy lights downstairs. "It was, wasn’t it?"

"Yes." He kissed her longingly. "Not as beautiful as you, though."

Nikita smiled, her heart reflected in her eyes. "Do you want your present now, Michael?"

"That depends. How tired is it going to make me on Christmas Day?"

"Very." She licked his mouth, and he captured her tongue. His mouth opened over hers, and she could not suppress a shiver. His thumb moved back and forth near her mouth, as if holding her in place, and she let him plunder her treasure albeit briefly.

"Ki-ta..."

She stopped him, her breath sounding harsh to her ears. "This is my present to you, Michael. You’re not allowed to take over."

He trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulder. "Are you going to stop me?"

She groaned. "You’re spoiling the fantasy, Michael."

"Is it my fantasy, Kita?"

He licked the side of her face, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her lower body. "Yes."

"Then we do it my way first."

She smiled weakly, knowing she didn’t have the strength or the will to resist. "If you must," she whispered, arching her upper body provocatively.

He gently lowered her to the carpeted floor of their bedroom, kissing her everywhere he could reach. He lifted her up briefly to unzip her dress, slowly sliding it off her body. He unhooked her bra from behind, gently grasping the front of it to pull it off. Once she was undressed, he quickly followed suit.

He ran his fingertips lightly over her breasts, knowing he was teasing both of them. He noticed her eyes were closed and he shook her, very gingerly. Her eyes opened in a blaze of blue fire. "What?" she said sleepily.

"I want to see your eyes when I take you." He buried his face against her neck. "No fair falling asleep on me either."

She giggled, and he felt the vibration against his face. He drew back and laughed. "I mean it."

"I know you do."

Nikita kissed him sweetly. "But it was probably a big mistake letting me lie down. I’m getting...awfully...sleepy...."

Michael stared at her. "Kita!"

Nikita laughed. "Oh, Michael, you should see your face."

He frowned. "This wasn’t the fantasy, was it?"

"Oh, no...my fantasy is much, much better than this...but both of us need to be awake for it to work."

"I’m not planning on falling asleep, doucette."

"Neither was I. But I am tired, Michael, and morning will be here in just a few hours..."

"Are you putting me off, Kita?" Michael said incredulously.

Nikita glanced up at him coyly. "Well..."

His eyes narrowed. "See if you can sleep through this." He bent over her, laving each breast with his tongue, and she moaned despite herself.

Michael was always good, but he was so much better, when he had an incentive. Nikita smiled inwardly, knowing she had undoubtedly inspired him to a new level.

He joined their bodies almost roughly, as if he were trying to jostle her. She laughed silently. He was still annoyed with her for nearly falling asleep on him, and that was his way of reminding her. He framed her face with his hands and kissed her repeatedly. Her eyes fluttered shut, but Michael took that as another sign that she was sleepy.

The way he was pounding at her body, he would climax sooner than he expected. She wriggled tantalizingly beneath him, and he groaned. "You were pretending..." he whispered.

She laughed, this time quite openly. "Oh, Michael, for a former Valentine op, sometimes you don’t quite have it all together."

"Such insults will not be tolerated," he whispered into her ear, knowing he would not last much longer.

He slowed down, stroking harder but longer each time, in an effort to make it last. But Nikita began to climax under him, and that undid all his careful planning. "Michael!"

He wrapped his arms around her neck and spent himself inside her, still feeling her shudder. "Oh, doucette..." He collapsed against her, their bodies still joined.

He kissed her sweetly, the tenderness at odds with the almost rapacious way he’d taken her body. But that didn’t surprise Nikita. She loved him just the way he was. Contradictions and all.

"Michael?"

He rested his head on her chest, reluctant to disentangle himself from her. "What, Kita?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to say...I love you."

He blinked, then smiled. "That’s not nothing, Kita." He kissed her slowly, his lips warm and moist against her skin.

They fell asleep that way, sprawled across the bedroom carpet, their bodies still joined. Joined in love. Joined in marriage. In every way that mattered, they were one.

Nikita stretched like the feline she often resembled. In the middle of a yawn, she smiled crookedly, seeing that Michael was still lying on top of her. She almost purred as she realized that their bodies were still joined. Stroking Michael’s hair, she felt him stir slightly. His eyes still shut, he said, "What time is it?"

"Very late. Or very early. Depending on your point of view."

He opened one eye cautiously. "Are there birds chirping yet?"

"Ummm....no."

"Then it’s very late." Seeming content to have settled that, Michael drifted back off to sleep, but Nikita was restless. She reluctantly disengaged her body from his, and Michael frowned in his sleep, as if registering that fact.

Leaning over him, she whispered, "I’m going to run a bath."

Not knowing if he heard her or not, Nikita leaped to her feet and headed for the bathroom. After turning both taps on full blast, she poured bubble bath into the tub, giggling at the way the tiny bubbles burst and tickled her skin. When the tub was nearly half full, she slipped a toe tentatively into the water, marveling at how the temperature was just right.

She slid into the tub, feeling the water glide around her like silken bedcovers. Oh, what a glorious feeling, she thought, as she closed her eyes, sliding down even further into the tub. Soon only her head was visible, and the length of her hair was lost beneath a layer of soap bubbles. She giggled delightedly as the bubbles popped and tickled her nose.

She froze when she realized she was no longer alone. Someone was standing in the doorway. Watching her. She blinked, her blue eyes unconsciously searching for something to use as a weapon, if necessary. Suddenly she heard singing. It was Celine Dion. The Love Theme from Titanic. She raised an eyebrow. A thief with good taste in music? She laughed as the figure moved out of the dim light and into the more piercing light of the bathroom.

"Michael!"

"Did I scare you?"

"Just a little."

"You want to join me?" she asked, seductively trailing a wet hand between her breasts.

"I thought you’d never ask." Michael slid into the tub behind Nikita and pulled her against his body.

She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the water surrounding them as well as the feel of Michael’s body behind her. He took a washcloth and gently dribbled water over her. She sighed with contentment. "Mmm...this is nice."

He pulled her against his arousal and caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth, taking care not to hurt her. Pulling her hair away to expose her neck, Nikita leaned back, waiting for Michael’s mouth to kiss her there. He did not disappoint her, he knew what she liked. He nuzzled her neck, and she could tell by the feel of him, he was smiling.

"Okay, what are you up to?"

"Couldn’t I just be enjoying what I’m doing?"

"You’re going so....slowly."

"Now who’s impatient?" He kissed the nape of her neck, his tongue gradually flicking lightly at the same spot.

"You like making me...crazy..."

She arched her back, and he groaned as it brought her into closer contact with his arousal. She pulled her knees up, dropping her head forward, and Michael used the washcloth to stroke the core of her body. "Unhhh..." Nikita moaned when Michael’s hand replaced the washcloth.

The music long forgotten, neither of them realized that the CD was on repeat. It kept playing the song from Titanic. Over and over. But they didn’t care. Nikita turned and repositioned herself over Michael, and her body ecstatically declared how it felt about the reunion. Sliding onto his arousal slowly, Nikita shivered.

He clenched his hands on her back, just above her hips, pushing her down harder. She gasped. They moved together, slowly at first, then with more abandon, when it felt too good to stop. Michael joined his mouth to hers, and they kissed avidly, ardently, as he continued to surge up and into her body.

Her nipples sharpened to chiseled points, they abraded his chest as they rocked together, the water slapping back and forth against them. He laughed when the water began to pour over the top of the tub. "Kita! It’s a good thing we don’t have neighbors!" She giggled.

And so it went. Celine sang. Michael and Nikita made love. The water lapped against the tub. Until it could no longer be contained. It poured down the sides of the tub and onto the floor.

Michael abandoned all pretense of control and locked his mouth onto Nikita’s, his tongue repeatedly penetrating her. She made a tiny noise, and he swallowed it. He groaned again, "You know what I love? That noise you make right before you--"

Her eyes flew open. She gave a little cry and fell forward onto Michael’s chest, shuddering. "Did you--?"

"Yes-s-s," she hissed against his mouth.

"Then can I--?" Michael was nothing if not polite.

"Ohhh, please do..."

He buried his face against her neck and let his passion slip its chain completely. He groaned with satisfaction as he spent himself within her, gratified to feel her climax again. Water flooded the floor next to the tub as they moved together one last time.

Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael, grinning sleepily as she buried her face in his shoulder. "Michael?"

"Yes, Kita?"

The CD had finally stopped playing. It blew a fuse when the water reached the player.

"I think we drowned Celine Dion."

***

Walter cursed and swore like an old sailor on shore leave. "Damn, damn, and double damn! No hot water! Those two must have been playing water sports again!"

He stomped out of his shower, a towel wrapped around his now-generous midriff. He grabbed a broom and rapped the ceiling with the handle a few times. "It wasn’t bad enough you had to torture me with Celine Dion music till dawn, you had to use the last of the hot water, too!"

He heard muffled laughter coming from above. There was a small but growing puddle on the ceiling, which meant that water was about to start leaking on Walter’s head. "Aw, shoot...I don’t want to have to fix the ceiling on Christmas."

He stood on his bed and yelled, "Just a suggestion, Michael! Get some towels and start mopping up there! Or I swear, I’m coming up there!"

More muffled laughter.

Walter wagged a finger warningly at the ceiling. "I’m warning you, don’t make me come up there!!!"

***

Nikita clapped her hand over her mouth and gasped. "Mi-chael..."

"Merry Christmas, doucette. It’s not much, but--"

"It’s more than enough. I love it, Michael!"

Nikita splayed her hand and admired it again. The ring. The one Michael just gave her. It was a simple white gold setting, but the stones, the stones were perfect diamonds, all in a half-circle.

"It’s an eternity ring, doucette."

"I know, I know, Michael." Tears sprung into Nikita’s eyes. "The ring that says you’d marry her all over again," she quoted the successful ad for the rings that ran in the Times for years.

Michael smiled. "That’s why I bought it, you know. Because of that line." He leaned forward and kissed her. "I would, Kita. I would marry you all over again," he whispered to her softly.

He carried her back into the bedroom. Somehow, Michael had worked his magic there, too. "I know you told Santa you wanted a comforter. Black and gold, wedding ring pattern, right? Will this do?"

He stopped in front of their bed, which now proudly bore a luxurious goosedown comforter. It was indeed black and gold, but the pattern was more medieval in nature, depicting a knight in dark armor handing a flower to a lovely young princess with long fair hair. Nikita gasped. "Oh, Michael, it’s beautiful!"

He smiled.

"But more than that...it’s us!"

He let her slide down to the floor, slowly, keeping his arms wrapped around her towel-clad body. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough to say, "Will you please remember this the next time you accuse me of not being romantic?"

"I never--"

"You did--"

"I promise--"

"Swear--"

"I do."

"I love you, doucette. "

"I love you, Michael."

It was the pounding that woke her. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding. In her head? No...it seemed to be real. It was...

...the damn door.

It was locked.

But someone wanted desperately to get in. Or to wake the occupants of the bedroom.

Nikita rubbed her eyes and struggled to sit upright. She yawned as she threw back the covers. Michael didn’t even stir. He was lost to the world.

She grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over her body, noting it covered all the important places. She slipped the deadbolt and pulled open the door a crack, but the person on the other side pushed it open further.

It was her worst nightmare.

It was Walter.

He rushed into the room in a full sweat. "What the hell were you doing up here till the crack of dawn? No, wait, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know."

Not waiting for an answer, he paced back and forth. "You look like hell, Sugar. Did you get any sleep at all? No, of course not. And what kinda way is that to answer the door? That T-shirt leaves entirely too much to the imagination, if you ask me. And another thing..."

Nikita raked both hands through her hair, heaving a huge sigh of exasperation. "Are you through yet, Dad?"

He frowned. "I’m not sure. Is Michael awake yet?"

She turned to look at the figure lying on top of the bedcovers. "Nope, not yet. Why? Do you have an important message for him, too?"

"Yeah...Tell him if he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s gonna miss Christmas." Walter stared at Michael’s naked back and shuddered.

"Even in the winter, you two take all your clothes- -"

Nikita reached out and put two fingers to Walter’s lips, effectively silencing him. She continued in a low whisper, "If you don’t stop carrying on, I’m going to tell Michael about the time you propositioned me in Section."

Walter backed up nervously. "You mean, the menage a trois thing? That was almost four or five years ago, Sugar."

"He...won’t...care....Dad." She emphasized the last word, and Walter grinned shakily, his bravado ebbing.

"Rigggghhhhtt..." Walter drawled.

"Merry Christmas." She shut the door after he left and stalked barefoot back to bed. She searched the wreckage for something clean to wear, figuring she had seen enough water to last a lifetime. No shower needed.

In the end, she settled on Michael’s T-shirt, clean underwear and a pair of bleached out jeans. She leaned over Michael and shook him awake. He groaned loudly. "Go away."

"Michael! Michael! Wake up!"

Michael buried his head further under the pillows. "I said go away."

"I can’t go away, Michael. Christmas won’t wait."

As if the word Christmas suddenly registered in his brain, Michael jumped up, so suddenly, he lost his balance and fell out of bed. Nikita stood over him, trying to ignore the fact that he was quite naked. "Michael, you should be used to surviving on so few hours sleep."

He shook his head groggily. "Not anymore, Kita."

She reached for his hands and helped him pull himself to his feet. He looked at the way she was dressed, then at himself. "Guess it would be a good idea to get dressed."

"It would help."

***

If anyone thought it was unusual for Michael to be wearing dark glasses on Christmas Day, they were too polite to mention it. But Nikita knew what they must be thinking secretly. Did they have a fight last night? I betcha Nikita hit him, and he’s got a shiner he’s hiding under those glasses. She smiled, figuring they could speculate all they wanted. She knew they deserved it. But it was more than worth it.

On her way to the kitchen, she passed Declan and Birkoff coming out of Declan’s room. Nikita stopped to wish them both a Merry Christmas and noticed the flash of the shiny new rings they each wore. "So, you guys get married last night or what?" she asked affectionately.

Declan glanced at Birkoff. "Something like that."

"Whose idea were the rings?" Nikita thought for a moment, reaching out to ruffle Birkoff’s hair. "I bet it was Birkoff. He’s the romantic."

Declan pretended to be offended. "Hey, I’ll have you know the Irish are well-known for being romantic figures. We’re very sensitive."

Birkoff chuckled. "You hide it very well." But there was nothing but love and affection in the look he gave Declan. His eyes shone with a brightness they’d been missing for a long time.

Declan said, "I’ll get you for that, Seymour," and took off for the front door. Nikita looked outside and smiled broadly. Snow. Snow had fallen during the night, and it was going to be a white Christmas.

She might be operating on precious little sleep, and her judgment might be impaired accordingly, but she knew one thing. So far, it was a wonderful day, and it could only get better.

Just then, Michael came around the corner, still half-asleep. He raised an arm to wave at Nikita, and what happened next was a blur. Declan came skidding into the house, his boots wet with snow. A huge snowball in his hands, he aimed it at Birkoff. "Heads up!"

But Michael stumbled into Birkoff, inadvertently pushing him out of the way, and the snowball missed its original target, hitting Michael square in the face. The impact knocked Michael’s dark glasses off, revealing that there was in fact no shiner to hide. However, there were two bloodshot grey-green eyes staring bleakly at Nikita, and a tremendous amount of wet snow clinging to Michael’s face.

Declan froze. Birkoff grimaced, too afraid to laugh. But Nikita had no such compunction. She giggled merrily, pointing at Michael’s half-frozen face. "The Iceman Cometh!"

Maybe it was the literary reference that did it. Maybe it was the feel of wet snow sliding down his face. But Michael suddenly began to laugh, too. Soon everyone was laughing, and the level of tension in the room dropped noticeably.

Michael wiped the snow from his face. "This calls for a snowball fight! Who’ll accept the challenge?"

Declan spoke up first. "You know I will, Michael."

Birkoff nodded. "Me, too."

Walter came out of the kitchen, chewing on a piece of toast. "What? I missed something? How’d you get all wet, Michael? Been back visiting the scene of the crime?"

Birkoff frowned. "What crime?"

Declan whispered in his ear, and Birkoff’s eyes grew huge. "Oh...I mean, ohhh..."

Michael’s eyes narrowed. "Stop looking at me like I’m a serial killer, Walter."

Nikita glared at her father, and Walter changed his mind about saying anything further. "Sorry, Michael."

Suddenly Michael grinned. "Just for that, you can be on Nikita’s side. Declan and Birkoff are obviously in collusion. So I volunteer to be the target." He picked up his dark glasses and carefully replaced them on his face. He retrieved his jacket from Nikita, who had vanished briefly to find their winter gear.

Birkoff said, "But who’s going to watch the twins?"

Michael looked at Nikita. "Up to you, doucette. You think they’re old enough to discover the joys of snow? If we bundle them up real well?"

Nikita hesitated. "I dunno, Michael. They’re so little..."

Birkoff and Declan looked at Nikita, almost pleading to change her mind. Even Walter said, "Sheesh, Sugar, you can only protect the little ones so long. It’s just snow, for heaven’s sake."

"Welll..." Nikita suddenly grinned. "O-kay. But everyone watches out for them! No horseplay allowed! They’re just babies!"

Michael went into the kitchen to help Nikita dress the twins, and he immediately noticed she seemed more exhilarated than worried. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"It couldn’t be a better day, if we ordered it up special, Michael."

He leaned over and kissed her, pulling her into his arms. "Merry Christmas, doucette."