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Christmas in Dixie	By : roxyfic Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Male Views: 16547 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Christmas in Dixie
- 2-2
- 3-3b
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 10
- 11
- 12
Christmas in Dixie

Part Eleven

After breakfast everyone had pitched in and the day had flown by. There had been gift-baskets to get together, deliveries to be made, shut-ins to be visited, babies to be changed, Neal's boys to put up with, and, of course, the shutters to be fixed. By late afternoon the house had turned into a zoo and Dom could barely remember a time when he'd been happier.

The only shadow on the day had been the steady stream of young (and some not so young) ladies that just happened to drop by. The O'Connor clan had closed ranks and had managed to shield Brian and Dom from the curious by designating them as Laura's driver and helper as she delivered the baskets to the outlying parishioners. When that task was complete, they'd been sent to the back of the house on shutter-repair duty.

They'd nearly finished the repairs when Dom's stomach had begun to protest. After the big breakfast there hadn't really been a mid-day meal. They'd all just grabbed whatever was available when they got hungry. On his third trip in, Dom had been caught.

"Don't eat any more cookies, Dominic," Marlene had scolded him when she'd taken the peanut-butter blossom right out of his hand and sat it back on the tray. "I know y'all must be gettin' hungry, but we'll sit down for a big meal at six and then go to church for evening service at nine." He'd waited until she had bustled out of sight before retrieving his cookie plus a couple bon-bons for Brian.

It wasn't until the chores were done and Marlene had informed them that supper was in half an hour that he and Brian got any private time together. They were once again alone in the study and Dom was rummaging around in his duffel.

"You seen my shaving kit, Bri?"

"Yeah, it's right here."

Dom looked up and saw Brian sitting on the edge of the desk, idly tossing the small zippered bag up and down. "Well throw it over will ya'? I'm next in line for a shower and I don't want to lose my turn."

"Uh uh, you gotta give me something first," Brian said as he slid further back on the desk and suggestively spread his legs.

"Come on, Bri," Dom said as he glanced quickly toward the closed door. "You know someone is likely to come walking in any second."

"Then you better be quick, hadn't you?"

Dom hesitated and then suddenly grinned. "You want quick, heh?" he asked as he moved toward Brian. He hooked the fingers of his right hand into the waistband of Brian's jeans, letting them slide deeply down the front, making Brian gasp. Then Dom tightened his grip and, with a single heave, pulled Brian off the desk and tightly against him. Dom moved his head so that their lips nearly touched. "But I like it slow," he whispered as he closed the distance and kissed Brian softly, tenderly taking his lips until he felt Brian's clinging hands and boneless body melting against him.

"We can wait a couple of days," Dom said as he pulled abruptly away and held the shaving kit up triumphantly.

"Couple days?" Brian asked and Dom chuckled at the dismay in his voice.

"You'll live," Dom said as he picked up his clean clothes and headed for the shower, humming a tune and so filled with happiness that he thought he'd bust.

~*~

"Where's Dom?" his father asked when Brian entered the kitchen a few minutes later.

Brian pointed at the ceiling where the sound of running water could plainly be heard. He'd forgotten how sounds carried in the old house. Being just south of the Mason-Dixon Line, there wasn't much insulation needed and -- Brian cocked his head to the side as a deep bass rumble began to intermingle with the sound of the shower. The rumble began to grow and Brian froze when he recognized the sound. "Oh, shit!" he cried as he headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs at a dead run.

Patrick and Marlene just looked at each other as the words became clear.

"Kiss the balls and suck the johnny, Fa la la la la la la ..."

Neal, Milla, and Tony burst into peels of laughter. Laura blushed furiously. Jillian was too busy wiping her daughter clean and muttering to even notice the bawdy Christmas carol that Dom was howling out at the top his lungs.

"He's the reason I get horny, Fa la la la la --"

~*~
"I'll do the washing," Brian offered as he rose and helped his brothers clear off the table. Family tradition dictated that after any large meal the cooks got to rest while the men did the dishes. If they hurried, they'd have just enough time to get the kitchen cleaned up before they headed over to the church for evening service.

"No, no, no," Neal said as he waggled a finger. "We've already decided that Dom's got sink duty tonight."

Dom shrugged his big shoulders and headed for the sink. He certainly didn't mind washing the dishes. It would be a whole lot easier for him than putting them away would be. Marlene's country kitchen was huge and it would take him weeks to figure out where everything was stored. He turned on the faucet, squirted in some soap, located the dishrag, and began to fan his hands around in the water to induce bubbles. It was the silence of the room that got his attention.

He turned with a frown and looked at the four grinning O'Connor men.

"Tell us something, Dom," Neal asked blandly. "Inquiring minds really want to know ...does any warm, soapy water inspire your musical talents, or does it have to be done in the shower?"

~*~

Due to the time difference, it was just past sunset in Los Angeles and the main offices of the FBI were all but deserted. Nearly everyone had headed home to spend Christmas Eve with their families and loved ones. The only two remaining were Special Agents Bilkins and Ormond. They stood together, looking around the colorfully decorated office with blank expressions on their faces -- almost as if they were lost amidst the all the glitter and holiday cheer.

Eventually, the big black man stomped over to the artificial tree and snapped off the twinkling lights. On his way back to Ormond's desk he yanked down the silver tinsel and stomped on the golden bells. With an oath he torn down the snow-white banner and crumpled it between his hands, crushing the brilliant red letters that had joyously proclaimed 'Happy Holidays!' before tossing it into the trash.

They had nothing worth celebrating this year.

They'd sacrificed over two years of their lives -- and two of their agents -- in an attempt to put Devlin Jones behind bars.

They'd failed.

And no amount of 'Peace on Earth', 'Joy to the World', or 'Merry-God-Damned-Christmas' could change the fact that a murderer was still walking free.

~*~

"All set for tomorrow, Edward?" Dev Jones asked as he lifted the snifter of brandy to his lips.

Eddy shook with fear and confusion as he tried to come up with an answer that would please his master.

"Speak up, boy," Jones snapped.

The loose flesh at Eddy's throat vibrated as he shook his head and stuttered out, "Tomorrow?"

"Our public coming out, of course," Jones said smoothly and slapped the riding crop playfully against Eddy's inner thigh. "We'll let the world see us together." He reversed the crop and slid the handle upward; probing the ring of muscle, then slowly entering, making the young man gasp. "We'll be a happy and devoted family once more." Jones stilled the movement of the crop. "Won't we, Eddy?" he asked just before lunging forward and ramming the handle deeply into Eddy's rectum.

"Yes!" Eddy cried out. "Oh, yes, Daddy! Yes!" Eddy chanted as his body was breached and impaled.
~*~
Pastor Patrick O'Connor looked down from the lectern at the sea of faces staring back at him and once again felt humbled. How could he put God's Word into words that these people could understand? What had been so crystal clear inside him this morning, now seemed trite and tired when he tried to form it into phrases. He'd been a fool to toss out his prepared sermon; a fool to think the word would just flow.

He cleared his throat, rubbed absently at the stump of his wrist, and cast about for some way to stall. The children had already performed their little play. Hadn't Neal Jr. been wonderful as Joseph? If only Tony and Jill's little baby hadn't spit up all over herself and the manger. Jillian sure was a trooper; she'd had babywipes at the ready and had cleaned the mess up in record time -- the kids had barely missed a line.

A restless shifting from the pews brought his mind back to the problem at hand. Sermon? What sermon? His mind was a blank. Maybe he could have the organist pound out another hymn? Had they sung 'Angels from the Realms of Glory' yet?

Desperation filled the Pastor and he whispered a quick prayer for help. As if in answer the back of his neck tingled. He twisted around slightly, sure that someone was standing close behind him. But no one was there, just the picture of Christ knocking on the heart-shaped door. The picture that had always hung above the alter -- the picture that the strange visitor from the day before had studied so carefully. The stranger who had asked such odd questions, who had indirectly lead the Pastor to his son and ...

Suddenly, peace filled the Pastor's heart and words took shape in his mind. He opened his mouth and his Christmas sermon flooded forth, un-rehearsed, raw, and straight from his heart.

He told the ages old story of how God had so loved the Earth that He had given his only begotten Son. He explained that God had freely given his gift before man deserved it, before man knew he needed it, before saint and sinner were reconciled.

God loved man, his sinful and flawed creation, the same way a father should love his children -- unconditionally and without reservation.

"As human fathers we lack the divine wisdom of Our Lord. So we must use the story of Christmas as an example," the Pastor concluded. "We may not always understand or approve of the choices our children make, or the way they may choose to live their lives. All we can do is accept them as they are." He let his eyes rest briefly on Brian before sliding over to where Dom sat next to him. With heartfelt warmth he added, "And Love them for who they are." Then he lifted his head to encompass the entire congregation. "But most importantly of all -- to rejoice that they are with us!"

He lifted his hand and beckoned toward the painting, his mood turning somber and the joy draining from his face.

"The Lord is knocking, but are we listening? He has gifts to give, but will we receive them graciously? He'd like to enter our hearts, but is there room amidst all the unimportant clutter that fills them?" The Pastor paused for several long moments and looked Heavenward. "Tonight I think we should leave the church in silence and think, not of the gifts under the tree, but of the gifts that the Lord has already given us -- our families and our friends. I challenge each and every one of us. If there is acrimony, anger, misunderstanding, or painful memories separating us from a loved one -- use this most holy of all nights to accept a gift of healing. As God gave Christ, give acceptance and you shall receive peace."

"Go now," the Pastor said and as the people began to file out he closed his eyes and blessed them with his favorite benediction.

"May the Lord be:

above you to guide you,

beneath you to uphold you,

beside you to justify you,

behind you to defend you,

and within you to refresh you."
When he opened his eyes, the church was far from empty. His family was waiting for him. His four sons standing straight and proud, his daughters-in-law gathering up their children, his daughter giving him the thumbs-up of a job well done, and his wife holding her arms out for him.

Never had a man been as blessed as he.

~*~

Eddy whimpered as Dev Jones finished with him for the night.

"Such a good boy, Edward," Jones said proudly as he peeled off his bloodied latex gloves and looked affectionately down at the shuddering mass of flesh. "You've pleased me so much that I've decided to collect your Christmas presents a little earlier than planned. Does that please you, dear?"

Eddy struggled to his knees and tried to smile. He crawled to Jones and pressed his cheek against the glossy black shoes.

"You'd like me to play with you some more, wouldn't you, my darling?" Jones noted. "But I'm afraid we'll have to call it a night. You need your beauty sleep," he said with a smile. "After all, we want you looking your best when we enter the church in the morning."
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Christmas in Dixie