• "Alix, wake up."

    "Ahhhhh-lix." Cole Blackwell jostled his boyfriend's shoulder with gloved hands.

    "Alix."

    Said brunet blearily opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the world came into focus. Not that it helped much; it was pitch black in the room, and he could barely make out Cole's exasperated face just inches from his.

    "Jesus Christ, you sleep like a heifer," hissed Cole.

    Alix's grey eyes slid over to the alarm clock beside the bed. "Yeah, one tends to do that at three twenty in the morning," he mumbled dryly. His eyes drifted back shut as he asked, "What the hell?"

    Cole pinched Alix's arm, forcing him back awake with a soft shriek. "Get. Up," he said seriously. He turned on his heel and flicked on the light switch, flooding the room with light. Alix winced as Cole, completely absorbed in his task, rummaged through their drawers, throwing various articles of clothing onto the bed.

    "Cole," started Alix. The blond was fully dressed, including boots, jacket, and wool knit hat.

    "Get dressed," Cole said crisply, motioning towards the pile of clothing now heaped on Alix's lap.

    "Dressed for what?" Alix didn't understand what was going on. The last time he had to get dressed this urgently at three in the morning, the fire department had been knocking on his door.

    Cole threw his hands up in the air. "Just do it, okay? Christ, everything is always why with you," he complained.

    Alix raised an eyebrow, but rose from the bed nevertheless. "You're telling me to get dressed at three in the morning...on Christmas morning, no less," he said as his memory caught up with the rude awakening. "I think I deserve a why."

    Cole pouted, his sea-green eyes widening in feigned innocence. "Have I ever led you astray, Alix?"

    Alix paused in the act of putting on his jeans. "Do you seriously want me to answer that, Cole?" So many things came to mind: the drug dealers, the prostitutes, the hall of fame picture at the NYPD.

    The blond rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Okay, maybe I have. But trust me," he implored, "this one's good."

    "When have I heard that one before," Alix muttered, his voice muffled by the sweater he was pulling over his head. "You know, you're not going to see Santa if you run up to the roof--"

    "It's not about Santa," Cole said impatiently. "Stop talking and dress faster."

    Alix sighed, but followed Cole's instructions, pulling on boots and a jacket minutes later. Cole, eager to get Alix outside, draped a scarf around his neck and jammed a hat lopsidedly onto his head.

    "Besides," said Cole pensively, halfway out the door, "everybody knows the best time to go see Santa is exactly at midnight. By three in the morning, he's already back at the North Pole."

    Alix only stared. "You're still not over that?"

    "Nope," said Cole, pulling him through the front door.

    ~~//~~


    "Cole, what the hell, you have me wandering through a foot of snow in Central park at four in the morning for what good reason?" The tip of Alix's nose was turning pink while his mood was quickly turning just as cold.

    "One," said Cole, "we're not wandering. I know exactly where we're going. Two, you'll appreciate this, trust me. So stop bitching." He tightened his hold on Alix's hand as they pressed on down the pathway. The park was a scene right out of a fairy tale, with snow draped elegantly over every branch and blanketing the ground in white. The lamps that dotted the pathways every few feet glowed with dim yellow lights, casting mystic shadows everywhere.

    It was very pretty, Alix did admit, but a little hard to appreciate at four in the morning after being dragged from one's bed.

    "Please tell me we're almost there," Alix nearly begged, itching to get back to the warmth of his bed.

    Cole turned to him with a huge smile, and Alix's heart melted at the sight. "Actually, we are! Come on," he urged, breaking into a short jog.

    With a resigned sigh, Alix ran to keep up with the excited blond, only slipping once as his feet kicked up snow around him. He slowed down once he saw that Cole had stopped and moved to stand beside him.

    "Gapstow Bridge?" He looked over at Cole, who was staring up at the sky expectantly.

    "Just wait," he said softly.

    Sure enough, a few minutes later, it began to snow, softly at first, but then picking up until Alix could clearly see each of the big, fat flakes as they landed on Cole's flushed cheeks. The blond's eyes slid shut and he stuck his tongue out like a child, giggling as the cold snow melted in his mouth.

    "Christmas snow," he said quietly with a smile, turning towards Alix. "There's nothing like it in the world."

    Alix opened his mouth to agree, but couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat. Instead, he settled for a warm smile, and wrapped his arms around Cole's waist, drawing him near. Cole turned in his arms and leaned up to press a simple kiss to his lips. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, his lips brushing against Alix's chilled skin. "I love you."

    "Love you, too," his whispered back, and in that moment, there was no place he would have rather been at four o'clock on Christmas morning, than standing on that bridge with Cole in his arms and the snow silently drifting all around them. Cole rested his head on Alix's shoulder, and they looked out over the frozen pond and the snow-covered trees, simply enjoying each other's warmth and the timeless wintry beauty.

    "Alix?" Cole's voice was muffled, his face turned into Alix's chest.

    "Yeah," said Alix absently.

    "Can we go home now? I'm freezing my ******** a** off here," he said, glancing up with a raised eyebrow.

    Alix leveled him with a dead pan expression. "Wow," he said, "way to ruin the moment."

    Cole narrowed his eyes. "You know what?" He pushed himself away from Alix to scoop up a handful of snow. Alix tried to run, but Cole pelted the snow before he could turn away. "******** you," said Cole, jamming his hands in his pockets and striding away.

    "Oh, no, you don't," muttered Alix, hastily gathering a snowball and throwing it in retaliation. It hit Cole square in the back of the head, and he whipped around indignantly.

    "This means war," he said in a deadly tone.

    "Bring it," replied Alix.

    And in all of New York, there were no two happier people than the two full grown men throwing snowballs like seven-year-olds, reliving childhood memories and savoring the magic that only Christmas snow seemed to bring.