Andy’s Gift

Part One: The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house . . .

Not a creature was stirring . . .

EXCEPT . . . .

“ANDREW!!!!!!!” The lights in the living room came on, and the unfortunate owner of the name shot up quickly, hitting his head on the lowest branches of the tree, his bottom shooting automatically inward as he scrambled to sit quickly on it and avoid immediate confrontation with the hand that belonged to the voice. He needn’t have worried. “Say cheese,” the voice sputtered between peals of laughter, somehow managing to bring the camera up and snap the absolutely priceless expression on his partner’s face as he sat dismayed among the packages, under the blinking lights.

“Oh don’t laugh at me, Chris!” Andy pleaded miserably. “It’s not funny!”

“I . . .I’m . . . s. . . sorry, Baby . . .,” Chris tried to get himself together, but the misery on Andrew’s face just made the whole thing funnier, and he clutched his stomach.

“Stop it!” Andy’s shock and dismay turned to irritation, and at last Chris’ laughter began to slow.

“Don’t be mad, Sweetheart,” Chris entreated, looking affectionately down at his sulking partner.

“Hmmph!” Andy looked away, and crossed his arms defiantly. “I don’t see what could possibly be so funny!” he protested.

“You will when I get those pictures back,” Chris smiled smugly as he offered Andy his hand and his disgruntled partner reluctantly took it. Andy could not stay mad as Chris helped him up and pulled him snugly into his arms.

“That’s the picture I’m going to put on all our Christmas cards next year,” he murmured into Andy’s hair as he held him close.

“You better not,” Andy muttered grumpily, but his heart began to beat faster as Chris pressed his cheek to his head, and he caught the clean, warm scent of his partner.

“And what are you going to do, Oh Naughty One, if I do?” Chris teased gently. Andy tilted his head up, trying to stop Chris’ lips with a kiss, but Chris pulled back slightly. “What will you do?” he whispered again, gazing at his partner with laughing eyes.

“I’ll think of something,” Andrew mumbled, trying again to kiss him. Again Chris frustrated him.

“Excuse me, who makes the rules in this house?”

“You do,” Andy admitted feeling triumphant as he managed to close his mouth over his partner’s.

“Mmmhmm, and who was caught crawling around in the Christmas packages just now?” Chris breathed as they came up for air.

“Me,” Andy conceded again, pushing his partner back towards the couch. His hands were working busily now to unfasten the top of Chris’ jeans, and Chris hit the light switch again, returning the room to a state of semi-darkness. The soft glow coming from the blue and white lights on the tree provided the only illumination, and he smiled softly as Andy pushed him down onto the couch. It was unlike his partner to be this aggressive, and he was quite enjoying the moment.

“Good,” he laughed a little as Andy fell on top of him, “as long as we understand who is in charge.” He returned the passionate kiss full force then, and gave himself willingly into Andy’s eagerly groping hands, succumbing at last to the will of the one he loved.

It was nearly 3:00 in the morning when Andy began to stir restlessly. Chris, still sleeping, reflexively closed his arm around his partner, and Andy lay still again, nestling closer in an effort not to wake him. The younger of the two men sighed as he gazed at the expression of blissful contentment on his sleeping lover’s face. ‘This is a moment I’d like to keep,’ he thought wistfully. ‘Maybe I could paint it.’ Practically as the thought occurred, he realized he couldn’t. A shock went through him, and the next moment tears were sliding slowly down his face. ‘It’s the perfect moment to paint,’ he thought again miserably, ‘and now I can’t.’ The tears started to flow faster, and Andy made some slight attempt to brush them away, but it was futile, and finally he just pressed his face into Chris’ warm chest. His shoulders shook softly as he tried to get control, in dread of waking his slumbering partner.

He had not been surprised, well not ultimately, anyway, that his partner had so easily ferreted him out earlier, but he was certain that Chris had not really known what he was doing. After all Andy’s mischievous tendencies led him to poke around the Christmas packages every year, and on more than one occasion he had earned himself a hot bottom by opening the ones with his name on them (he had intended to wrap them back up before Chris found out, but his partner always seemed to be just one step ahead of him). ‘Not this year, though,’ Andy thought with some satisfaction, and he brushed at his tears again, sneaking another little look at Chris’ beatific expression. It was not Andy’s curiosity that had him crawling under the tree at midnight this Christmas Eve, though he had noticed a new package among the pile that for days had been growing as friends and family dropped by. ‘To Chris from Santa,’ he pondered. ‘Who could that be from?’

The jealous stab occurred again against his will. It was that damn package that had almost spoiled his own secret mission tonight. He had intended simply to place the little box he had so successfully hidden from his partner among the other gifts, and be done with it, but then the packages had looked so beautiful, he had thought, and it couldn’t hurt to have just a little look. He had just come across that particular present when the lights came on, and desperately he had tossed his own little box behind it.

‘It’s probably from Douglas,’ he thought resentfully. ‘Douglas, entirely chic and sophisticated Douglas. Douglas who was thirty-two, Chris’ age, and his oldest friend from college. Douglas who always knew the right thing to say and do in every situation.’ Andrew’s lip curled dramatically. ‘Douglas who was a doctor.’ “Dr. Douglas,” Andrew recited to himself. He clutched at Chris and buried his face again. Douglas who Andy knew was trying to steal his Chris away (no matter how silly Chris thought that idea was). Worst of all, Douglas who knew (because he had discovered by accident) that Chris spanked him sometimes. Thinking about that mortified Andy and made his face burn with shame.

Douglas was Andy’s antithesis in every way and enjoyed taking potshots at his friend’s young partner whenever Chris wasn’t around. He hardly ever dared to bring up the spanking because he knew it would send Chris over the edge if he found out, but he found plenty of other things to push Andy’s twenty-five year old buttons about. Chris was always telling Andy to ignore him, but Andy just couldn’t. It was too hard. ‘At least this year, I have a real gift to give,’ Andy sighed. ‘Not even Douglas will show me up this year. This year is special.’ He and Chris had been a couple now for five years and had celebrated as many Christmases together, but this Christmas marked their first year of living together. ‘Their first wonderful, wonderful year,’ butterflies filled Andy’s stomach, and he sighed again blissfully. There was no possible way for Chris to know how much this past year had meant to him, and Andy had wanted to get him something special, even if it meant letting go of the only other thing that meant anything to him.

The intensity of his mixed emotions started his tears again, and he snuggled closer again to Chris. He had no serious fear of waking his partner, now. Chris was a sound sleeper, and if he was going to wake up at all, he would have woken up already. Besides, there was no help for it. Andy always wore his heart on his sleeve, and he had learned a long time ago that fighting his emotions or repressing them only brought more heartache in the end. He did not try to fight now. The last few days had been extremely hectic. He and Chris had barely had any time to themselves what with all the people coming in, and out of the house getting ready for the party, and he had had no time to grieve. He thought longingly of his easel (the one his mother had given him), his paints, canvas, and brushes. Chris would never know how very, very much the gift Andy had gotten him this year had cost his devoted young partner. Andy was determined that he should never know, and so he cried now for the last time as Chris slept unaware. It was a deep, cleansing cry that left Andy exhausted, but peaceful. His eyes began to droop as he cuddled close to Chris, and finally he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber to rival that of his partner’s.

Time ticked on quietly, and it was almost an hour later when Chris opened his eyes. Andrew was still sprawled over him, in his white t-shirt and socks, his expression one of pure unadulterated sweetness, and Chris smiled drowsily, bringing his hand up to caress Andy’s round, young bottom, and then sliding his hand under his partner’s t-shirt to gently rub his back. The temperature had dropped considerably in the few short hours they had been lying there, and, noting the goose pimples that were beginning to form on Andy’s legs and thighs, Chris reached for the blanket that hung over the back of the couch. Carefully he spread it over them, keeping his hand on Andy’s lower back, tucking the edge of the blanket around his neck, and smiling a little once more at the picture of innocence that was his sleeping partner.

“Merry Christmas, Baby,” he whispered, pushing a stray wisp of hair back from his partner’s eyes, and kissing his forehead. His heart jumped a little as his fingers brushed Andy’s damp cheeks, and his brow clouded as he traced the tear tracks gently with his fingers. “Oh Andy,” he whispered, “everything will be all right, Baby.” He tightened his arms. “You’ll see. Everything will be all right.” He cuddled his sleeping lover close, closing his own eyes again and continuing to stroke Andy’s hair until he too had drifted once more into his own private dreamland.

It was nearly dawn before the two lovers began to stir once more. Andy opened his eyes first, and when Chris finally woke, he smiled to find Andy staring sleepily at him. “Merry Christmas, Love,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” Andy returned in the same soft tone. For a few minutes they just lay there, enjoying the lights and the quiet and these precious moments of peace they had to themselves on this, their first Christmas in their very own house. Chris’ fingers brushed lightly through Andy’s thick brown hair once more, and Andy closed his eyes, lying still and soaking up the sensation. He did not tell Chris that he had been crying earlier, and Chris never mentioned that he knew.

“Come on, Baby,” Chris murmured at last, planting another soft kiss on Andy’s forehead, “let’s go upstairs.” Andy opened his eyes again to look at his partner, and then nodded, shifting his body, so Chris could sit up. Chris stood and took his hand, and then unplugged the lights on the tree, gathered their jeans from the floor, and without further conversation led the way upstairs to their bedroom. The first morning light was beginning to peek through the curtains of the big bay windows, and they were both delighted to discover, as they passed, that it was snowing. The new flakes fell quietly, but steadily, covering the house in a soft blanket of contentment as Andrew and Chris snuggled into their bed and, holding one another tight, fell asleep once more.