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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Christmas in Dixie

Part Nine
"Dad not feeling well?" Brian asked later as he helped his mother get some extra blankets and pillows out the upstairs closet. "The house looks a little ..."

"Run down," she said with a sigh. "Truth is, Brian, that he's just getting old. His stump is paining him and arthritis is setting in." She handed him one last blanket and shut the wooden door quietly. She didn't want to wake the sleeping children that were tucked into most of the upstairs bedrooms. "He can't manage some of the more strenuous things anymore, but you know him -- too proud to ask the neighbor's help. All he says when I bring it up is, 'The Lord will provide.' Well ... I wish the Lord would supply a helping hand before the shutters fall completely off," she said tartly as she headed down the hall.

"Dom and I'll take care of them," Brian offered as he hurried to catch up to her. His legs felt a little wobbly and he knew that his mom had been right when she'd insisted that he hit the hay early. The strain of day was catching up to him and he was nearly dead on his feet.

"Thought maybe you would," she said with a pleased smile. "Just don't tell him before hand, or he'll feel honor-bound to try 'n do it himself."

"I thought he'd mellowed?" Brian asked wearily.

"Oh, he surely has ... 'bout most things that is. He's not nearly so strict in his views as he used to be. Remember when he wouldn't let you boys wear blue-jeans to school?" she asked with a soft laugh as they descended the stairs.

"Do I? Navy blue trousers with white cotton shirts were all he'd let us leave the house in."

She chuckled, then whispered, "For Christmas he bought Laura a pair of those hip-hugger jeans that all the kids are wearing now-a-days."

"You're kidding me, right?" Brian asked in disbelief. "I can't believe Dad would ever -- " The site of his father standing in the living room, right next to the tree, brought Brian up short.

"Dad would ever what?" Pastor O'Connor asked curiously.

"Oh ... nothing," Brian said through a broad smile as he looked around the room in vain for Laura. The rest of the adults were there, but she wasn't. Oh well, he really wouldn't be able to tease her about the hip-huggers -- she didn't have hips to hug -- until after she opened them Christmas morning anyway. Deciding he was to tired to think straight anymore, he turned to Dom and called out, "Come on, Dom, time for bed. I guess we're bunking in Dad's study. Seems as if there's two of Neal's munchkins hogging the bed in my old room."

With an ear shattering thud, uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Dom had charmed them all. Every single member of Brian's family had fallen under his magnetism, drawn to his natural honesty and dependability. They'd all gotten along unbelievably well since Brian and Dom's arrival. Now, however, faced with the fact of his and Dom's sleeping habits -- with the nature of their relationship staring them in the face and impossible to ignore -- the family back-slid. Brian could see it on their suddenly tight faces, disapproving frowns, and furtive, downcast eyes. His father looked as if he'd been taken ill and even his mother was looking down at the floor; her cheeks flushed with what he was sure must be shame. They didn't like the fact that he was gay? Well ... they'd just have to learn to deal. He was tired, his head hurt, and he intended to snuggle up to his male lover and drift off to sleep. If his family didn't like it ... then tough.

Dom rose off the davenport and moved silently to his side. Brian felt his mother's gentle, tentative touch on his arm and pulled away. He flashed her an irritated look and opened his mouth to lash out her, but Dom stopped him.

"Come on, Bri," Dom said gently as he wrapped a big hand around Brian's upper arm and tugged.

"I'll help you make up the couches," Pastor O'Connor offered quickly. He crossed the room and threw open the door to his study. Brian and Dom followed closely, not bothering to say goodnight to the others.

The study was larger than Brian remembered it. His dad's big desk still sat in front of the bay window, facing the interior of the room. An enormous bookshelf still filled one wall and twin sofas still sat against the others. The narrow couches faced each other, separated by the width of the room. Brian sighed as he looked at them -- so much for snuggling up to Dom, the two of them would never fit onto one of the narrow sofas. He turned to his father, a suspicion starting to grow within him.

Patrick O'Connor shrugged helplessly. "We decided on the sleeping arrangements several days ago. At the time, it seemed it like a good idea. Now ... I ... well I suppose we could re-locate a couple of the kids?"

"It's okay, Pastor O'Connor," Dom said soothingly. "After all, it's better than the garage."

"Garage?"

Brian had to smile at his father's confusion. "It's a private joke, Dad."

"Oh ... well then, I guess I'll let you boys get some sleep," the Pastor said as he moved toward the door. He stopped and turned, his shoulders hunched with sadness. "I'm sorry. Give us a little more ...time," he said as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"I suppose I should be grateful that he shut the door," Brian grumbled. "I thought for sure he'd leave it open as a deterrent. You know, just in case we actually tried to touch each other."

"Take it easy, Bri. He didn't --"

"Of course he did," Brian's voice was quickly turning into a discontented whine. "Believe me, I know. I really thought that he'd changed, but --" Dom's lips closing over his stopped any further complaints. The blankets and pillows that Brian had been holding fell unnoticed to their feet.

"You need to lay down," Dom said when their lips parted.

"I know," Brian agreed wearily. "But I need to lay down with you."

Dom looked at the bedding that was heaped on the hardwood floor. "I got an idea."

~*~

"Here you are home at last," Devlin Jones sang as Eddy finally emerged from his long soaking bath and entered the living room. "Tell me, my dearest Eddy, did you miss our happy little home?"

Eddy looked around at the decadent furnishings, the heavy velvet drapes, the scattered pillows, the racks of toys, and nodded his head.

"Yes, you poor thing, you must have. I know that they kept you in squalor all those months. Imagine my dear Eddy having to survive in a Nebraska farmhouse of all things?" Jones shifted position on the elegant settee and tapped the tip of his finger against his chin. "There was running water and flush toilettes, I hope?"

Again Eddy nodded his head.

"Aren't you curious to know how I learned where you were kept?"

Eddy nodded his head, but so slight was the movement that Jones grew angry.

"Ask me," Jones ordered. "No, beg me, to show you."

Eddy's hands fisted against his sides as he asked, "Please show me how you learned where I was kept."

Jones rose gracefully to his feet and glided toward a set of closed velvet drapes. With a flourish he released the pull and drapes swung open, revealing the ghastly remains of one man and the terrified form of another.

"I thought my taxidermist might need a little practice before he gets started on your gifts," Jones whispered silkily in Eddy's ear. "So I invited him here to work on your other two friends."

Both of Eddy's doms had been stretched out and secured between posts. One of them, presumably the one who had answered Jones's questions, was dead; his skinned body hung limply. The other, still dressed in his harness, tugged at his bonds and made whimpering noises from behind the gag.

Eddy looked to Jones for an explanation.

"You didn't honestly think I'd let them go?" Jones asked. "Not after all the things that they did to you?"

Eddy turned back to where the prisoner was secured. The dom's terror-bright eyes were fixed on him, pleading for mercy and then, abruptly, the prisoner's eyes shifted to a point over Eddy's shoulder. A stranger appeared from the far side of the living room and the dom screamed behind the gag.

"This is Mr. Rose, Eddy. He's going to give us a little demonstration of his talents."

Mr. Rose approached the prisoner. He selected a blade from a nearby workbench and began to cut.

"Just think, my dear," Jones sneered. "In a matter of weeks it'll be your friend Dom that Mr. Rose will be working on. Won't that be fun?"

Eddy nodded obediently as his nails cutting deeply into the palms of his hands and drew blood.

~*~

"Marlene, have you seen my sermon?" the Pastor asked as he sipped his morning coffee. He hadn't had much time yesterday to work on it and he needed to go over it before the big Christmas Eve service.

"I put it on your desk," his wife said as she busied herself with getting breakfast ready.

"In the study?"

"Of course, dear. What other desk ... oh ... " She turned around with a worried look on her face. "The boys aren't up yet and from what you told me they went through yesterday, I hope they'll sleep in a few more hours."

The Pastor mentally reviewed his schedule for the day. Just like Santa Clause, Christmas Eve was his busiest day of the year. He had so much to do, that if he didn't go over his sermon now, before the others got up, he wouldn't have a chance the rest of the day. "I'll sneak in and get it," he said.

Stealthily, he turned the doorknob, feeling like a thief in his own home. The door opened without a single creak. He glanced through the pre-dawn gloom toward the closest couch, but found it empty. Surprised, he looked at the other. It, too, was unoccupied. Fear, confusion, and his old friend guilt filled him. Surely, the boys hadn't packed up in the night and left?

He'd been shamed by the way he had reacted when Brian and Dominic had retired. He knew that they slept together and he'd accepted it. He really had. Nevertheless, when faced with the fact of them doing it in his home, under his roof, well ... he'd become extremely uncomfortable. He just hoped he hadn't blown it -- that he hadn't run them off.

"Forgive me, Lord," he whispered and almost in answer the morning sun entered the room through the bay window. The light moved like a spotlight across, then down, the wall. It flowed across the shiny oak floor, never halting until it illuminated two entwined male forms in front of the bookcase. They lay on the hard floor in the most intimate and loving of all positions -- Brian was spooned protectively around Dominic's back.

Drawn by the sight, the Pastor moved forward.

The boys were shirtless; the thin blanket that covered them had pooled around their waists, concealing them from the hips down. Brian's golden skin and hair shimmered in the light, while Dom's darker pigmentation took on the appearance of warm molasses. The Pastor unconsciously moved even closer so that he could see the expression on Brian's sleeping face. Love was clearly etched on his son's features as his boy pressed his face into the back of Dominic's purpled neck.

The Pastor gasped at the amount of damage that was revealed by the morning light. Dominic must have been nearly strangled to death in his efforts to protect Brian. Aching for what the boys had been through, the Pastor felt his eyes being drawn to Brian's arm where it was draped over Dom's thick torso. He followed the long length down to the end where their hands were clasped together, their fingers laced and intertwined. Even in sleep, they clung to each other. Tears welled in the Pastor's eyes, and through the glimmer, he made out the matching bracelets of bruises that encircled both of their wrists.

The Pastor trembled as reaction set in. He had thought he'd come to terms with Brian's sexual preference, but he'd been wrong. Oh, he'd accepted it, but he hadn't been able to see any beauty in it -- not until now.

The sight of them as they lay on the hardwood floor -- they'd spurned the comfort of the sofas in favor of the comfort for each other's arms -- was so beautiful as to be nearly blinding. The old man stumbled backward away from the glorious sight. They needed privacy, they needed rest, but most of all they needed each other.

"Did you find your sermon?" Marlene asked as he re-entered the kitchen.

"Sermon?" he asked in confusion. "Oh ... um, no ..." Then with a burst of insight, he realized that he had indeed found the sermon that the Lord wanted him to spread this Christmas Eve. "I mean, yes. Yes, I found it."

Marlene gave him an odd look, but went back to whipping the eggs.

~*~
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Christmas in Dixie