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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Special thanks to Ms Smarty Pants -- whose nagging ... er, I mean ... encouragement helped me get back into this WIP.
Christmas in Dixie

Part Seven
Pastor O'Connor drove home from the hospital with extra care. Every time he passed a speed limit sign he checked the speedometer -- just to make sure he was well under the posted limit -- and whispered an apology. He'd broken so many traffic laws during his mad dash to the motel that he cringed guiltily. Not that he would do anything differently if the same situation recurred -- Heaven forbid!

As he recalled the scene that he'd walked in on, he began to shake slightly and his stomach rolled. Rage, a nearly forgotten emotion, began to fill him. Would Jones and his whore really leave Brian and Dom alone now? Or would they return to cause the boys more grief? The Pastor tightened his grip on the steering wheel as uncomfortably dark and vindictive thoughts invaded his mind. He hadn't felt like this since his days on the force, since before he lost his hand, since before he'd made a bargain with --

"Forgive me, Lord" he whispered, guilt and regret quickly replacing the rage. "Take these vengeful thoughts from me," he pleaded. "I promised long ago to cast all my cares on You and to allow You to handle my enemies. Never have You let me down. I thank You for your many blessings, for my wife and my children, and I believe that You will deal with Jones and Preston in mercy -- You will treat them just as they deserve."

The Pastor took a deep breath and let go of his anxiety. Feeling much better after his prayer, the Pastor spent the remainder of the drive humming Christmas carols and deciding what to tell his family and what should be withheld from them.

~*~

"You met him then? Brian's *boyfriend*?" Neal sneered as the Pastor was in the act of hanging up his coat. "I don't suppose he's any prettier than Bri. I doubt if big brother would could stand the competi--"

"Yes, I met him," Pastor O'Connor admitted to his second son. He flicked his eyes toward his wife, his look telling her that something wasn't quite right. "And I'd hardly describe Dominic as *pretty*. In fact," the Pastor had a thoughtful look on his face as he turned back to Neal. His eyes lingered on his son's Army-issue brush-cut and broad shoulders. "He looks a lot like you, only darker."

"Me?" Neal gasped in disbelief, making Tony snicker. Neal flexed his thick arms and rolled his shoulders in their sockets, doing a convincing 'Incredible Hulk' impersonation. "I somehow doubt it." The muscles of his neck bulged as he showed off his hard-bodied physique. "Are you sure he doesn't look like Tony?" he asked as he relaxed his body. "All skinny and petite and ..."

Tony's mouth dropped open in outrage. He might be the smallest male O'Connor, but he could give as good as got. He opened his mouth to let loose.

"Enough," the Pastor ended the conversation. "They'll be here soon and then you'll see for yourselves."

"Is something wrong, Pat?" Marlene asked her husband as she twisted the cloth of her paisley apron with her hands.

"They had a little bit of trouble -- Brian's been injured. He's in the hospital getting some sutures in his head."

Marlene gasped. "Dominic didn't ...?"

"No, no," the Pastor said quickly. "Nothing like that."

He glanced around at his family. His grandchildren were too young to understand. They sat playing on the floor, unaware of the situation. His son's wives were standing together, their faces unreadable; and he regretted the fact that he hadn't spent enough time in their company to accurately read their expressions. But his sons ... he knew them well enough to see they were bristling, just waiting for an opportunity to decry their older brother's partner. He turned toward his daughter. Laura's blue eyes were wide with curiosity and concern. She of all of them had been the least bothered by Brian's choice. Marlene ... his wife of over thirty years was worried, uncertain, and looking to him for assurance.

"Dominic would never, ever hurt Brian," Pastor O'Connor said with confidence. "He and Brian ... they..." The Pastor closed his eyes and groped for words. "They are *good* for each other." Marlene's face cleared a bit, Laura beamed as she flashed an 'I told you so' look at her brothers, and the boys' stiff postures relaxed. "You all know that I wasn't exactly thrilled with the situation, but now that I've met Dominic, now that I've seen the two of them together, I ... I can only pray that nothing -- and no one -- will ever separate them again."

Marlene nodded. She didn't appear entirely convinced, but as always, she was willing to trust in her husband's judgment. She'd followed his lead before and had never regretted it.

"How did he get hurt then?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, Brian," the Pastor hedged. "He's always doing something radical. Remember the time he skateboarded off the porch roof?" He gave her a look that asked her to change the subject.

"I certainly do," she said with a small laugh. "He laid his head open that time too!" Then she turned to the children. "Come on kids!" she called. "Who wants to help Grandma decorate the cookies?"

"I do! Me! Me!" screeched the ones who were old enough to talk as they leapt to their little legs and toddled toward the kitchen.

"Yes, let's go slaughter the fatted sugar cookie -- the Prodigal Son is about to return," Neal grumbled to Tony.

====

"Mr. Jones, sir," the pilot's voice came over the intercom. "We're beginning our descent into L.A. -- please buckle up."

Dev Jones automatically pulled his luxurious seat into its upright position and cinched the belt around his lap. As the buckle snapped closed, his eyes snapped toward the miserable mass of flesh huddled on the floor.

"Get up, Eddy, and buckle yourself in," Jones ordered. "We wouldn't want you to get knocked about by the landing, now would we?"

"Yes, sir." Eddy Preston rolled to hands and knees and then pulled himself upward into a vacant seat. He pulled the seatbelt over his thighs and winced as the heavy webbing pressed down on his aching groin.

"Poor, baby," Jones sneered as he witnessed the younger man's pain. "Your prick must be very tender."

Eddy hung his head and trembled.

"Not to worry -- I intend to make it all better soon."

Eddy's eyes were wide as he lifted them wonderingly toward his master. He'd been tortured, humiliated, and been brought to several screaming climaxes during the hours they'd spent in the air. During it all, Dev Jones had remained aloof, watching coldly, refusing to touch Eddy's scarred flesh -- he'd let his henchmen work the appliances.

"I'll never take you again -- you know that, don't you? Not after you've spread your cheeks to all comers this past year. Who knows what disease you might be carrying." Eddy gulped, but remained silent. "But, so that you don't get *too* lonely, I'm going to give you two absolutely wonderful Christmas presents. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait a few weeks before actually getting delivery of them. I want things to settle down a bit before I go collect your gifts." Eddy's face was blank with confusion. "Their disappearance will have to be done carefully -- we don't want to alert their friends in the FBI -- but I think we can manage it."

"Toretto?" Eddy gasped in astonishment. His pale face lit up and he fairly beamed with joy. "You're going to give me Dom?"

"And his mate," Devlin Jones said with a cold smile. "I'm going to have them both skinned and mounted. You'd like that wouldn't you, my dear?" Eddy's eyes grew enormous as the blood that had so recently flushed his cheeks, drained away. "I know a wonderful taxidermist; his work is exceptionally lifelike. I thought we'd have the blond bent over while the big one -- the one that you are so infatuated with -- is positioned in the act of fucking him. Think of it, Eddy. Won't they make a lovely display for our Living room?"

Eddy had to swallow before he could speak. "Yes, sir," he whispered softly, his voice thick and trembling as tears welled in his eyes.

====

Twilight painted the old house a pinkish color as Dom turned the Dart into the driveway. The early evening light cast an unflattering light on the once stately building, starkly revealing the unmistakable signs of age and disrepair. Crooked and missing shutters marked the upper floor, while peeling paint and a broken porch rail stood out on the lower. The shrubs surrounding the house needed trimming and the walk was marked by cracked cement. The house was like its owner: old, proud, and weather beaten.

"The church provide the house?" Dom asked.

"No, it's a tiny parish. They don't even pay Dad. He's lived off his police pension all these years. He and Mom bought this house shortly after they were married with some money that Mom had inherited," Brian said as he opened the door of the car and got out. He stood, looking over the roof of the Dart, his eyes on the house. "When I was young the house was beautiful," Brian said wistfully.

"Looks like it needs some TLC," Dom rasped.

"Don't we all?" Brian asked with a smile as he walked around the car.

Dom snorted. "You complainin' that you don't get enough?" His wide mouth split into a sensual grin as he raked his eyes up and down Brian's body. "Guess I'll have to take care of that."

Brian's heart leapt within his chest at the sight. He wanted to leap on Dom, to knock him to the ground, to rip his clothes off, to kiss every silky inch of dark flesh, and to make Dom growl with pleasure -- but he didn't. His head hurt too much, the stitches on his throat were already starting to itch and pull, and besides, there were probably a dozen pair of eyes peering through the windows, watching their every move. So instead of ravishing his lover on the front lawn, Brian contented himself with bumping his shoulder into Dom's in a socially acceptable display of masculine affection and asking, "Ready?"

Dom grunted something that Brian interpreted as an affirmative and together they walked down the path toward Brian's boyhood home.

Brian knew he'd been right about being watched when, before they'd even reached the front door, it was flung open in welcome. Warm, inviting light flooded out toward them, engulfing them and embracing them.

"Brian!"

Brian wrapped his mother in his arms as she flung herself at him. He squeezed her gently and let his nose dip into her silvery hair. She smelled like strawberries, just like always.

"Hey, Mom," he said softly as she suddenly thrust him away and looked him over.

"Bend down so I can see your head." She commanded and he obeyed. "Oh, Brian," she exclaimed as the light shown on the stitches that peeked through his hair. "What have you done to yourself now?"

"It's nothing," he lied.

"Hmmm," she murmured. Then she turned to Dom.

Brian held his breath as his mom looked his lover over. Dom had backed up a step, putting his body partially in the shadows of the porch. He looked big and dark and -- to Brian's knowing eyes -- so damned vulnerable that Brian ached with helplessness. So much depended on how his mom reacted to Dom presence in his life. It mattered so much to Dom that Brian found himself silently praying for yet another miracle.

"Dominic," she said in her soft southern drawl as she held out her arms in welcome. Dom stood stiff and unmoving. She ended up having to go to him, but when her arms slid around his waist, he melted. He hugged her so tightly in return that she let out a soft gasp. Dom released her instantly with a mumbled apology and a wondrous look on his face.

She grabbed his hand and laughed. "Come on in," she said as she pulled him along with her into the O'Connor home and into the O'Connor family.

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Christmas in Dixie