Welcome To The Harem
Christmas Comfort by Rev. Anna
Summary: Pre-X-file. Monica/Marita. Secret Santa challenge fic.
Christmas Comfort By Rev. Anna Rating: NC-17 Classification: SR Keywords: pre-X-file. Monica/Marita Disclaimer: I'll Be Home on Christmas was written by Michael Jarrett. Monica and Marita belong to 1013 productions, but this story is belongs to Josie. Author's note: Merry Christmas Josie. Christmas was one of the few times when Monica's New Orleans unit was able to forget the horrors they had to deal with daily and just be happy and human with each other for a few hours. They laughed and shared risqué Christmas e-mail humor and sang all the old Christmas favorites. Not looking forward to going home to an empty house, Monica had stayed way longer than she ever had before. Around 10:00, Special Agent Joseph Memphis leapt onto a desk and did his annual Elvis impression of I'll Be Home on Christmas. On the hills of Georgia Across the plains of Tennessee I've seen and I've done most everything That a man can do or see But if I could only borrow one dream from your sleep I'd be on that train tomorrow I'll be home on Christmas day And so many times before She left that candle burning Oh, too many tears fell My soul fills with yearning If I had sense at all I'd just be on my way Be on that train tomorrow Be home on Christmas day Everytime I think about her All the love I left behind Memories still linger in my troubled mind I could set aside my pride And I'd be on my way I'd catch that train tomorrow And be home on Christmas day If I had any sense at all I'd just be on my way I'd catch that train tomorrow I'd be home on Christmas day I said I'd catch that train tomorrow I'd be home on Christmas day Monica had enjoyed the party up until then. But song's lyrics were too close for comfort. With a smile and a wave she finally excused herself and went home. She walked home slowly among the happy throng of last minute holiday shoppers and seasons greeters, forming a surreal slow motion swirl all around her, unable to join in their holiday merriment because she was supposed to be in New York with Marita. They had planned the trip for months, but an emergency three weeks ago in Indonesia had cancelled that. Marita had been sent to do some fact finding for the Secretary General and wouldn't be back before the end of the month. "Don't think of it as a cancelled Christmas. Think of it as a wonderful way to start the new year." "I don't have much choice," Monica said, putting up a brave front. The delight she heard in Marita's voice as she gushed over Monica's Christmas present took a little of the sting out of not being with her. "You wonderfully sentimental fool. You know which Paul Winter CD I played first. Me and Waves and Romance laid in bed and reveled in whale song." "Merry Christmas mi amorcita," Monica had whispered. As Monica turned the corner and trudged up the walk to her house, something caught her eye causing her to stop short. Her porch lights were on and there on the door was a beautiful Christmas wreath that hadn't been there this morning. As she came closer she saw there was a small toy sitting in the wreath and recognized it immediately. It was one of Marita's beanie babies, Snowball the snowman. It had a small envelope tied around its neck with a red ribbon. Monica opened it and read the note. "My friends and I have come down from New York to wish you a Merry Christmas. 'We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you a Merry Christmas since Marita's not here.' - Snowball and friends." Monica took the little toy inside with her and was surprised by the sight of a small votive candle lit on the foyer table. Next to it was a beautiful basket and another beanie baby propped up against it. Monica stepped over and saw it was Halo, the angel bear. It also had a little message for her. "Christmas is a time of joy and journeys. Mary and Joseph had theirs. The Magi had theirs. This one is yours. Take this basket with you and come with me into the living room." Monica laughed and stepped into the living room. There on the coffee table was yet another votive and another beanie baby. She knelt down and saw it was Valentino, the valentine bear. He was propped up against a silver picture frame. She smiled as she saw it was an 8 x 10 enlargement of her favorite photograph. In it she was hugging Marita in front of the outside stalls of the Strand bookstore at the South Street Seaport. On the frame was a post-it that read 'A happy anniversary.' And it had been. The one year anniversary of their meeting to be exact. An obliging tourist had taken it for them. One year to the day Monica had gone to New York for some R&R after a particularly horrific case. She had found herself down at the South Street seaport browsing through old books at the Strand bookstore. In the back was a section containing records and she had reached for a recording of a Paul Winter concert inspired by whale songs. Her hand had brushed against the hand of a woman who was reaching for the same recording. The hand was cool and slender, as was its owner. "You like Paul Winter?" the blonde had asked. "Whale song," Monica had answered. "Hmmm," the blonde had said, looking thoughtfully at the recording that they were both holding, neither giving any sign that either would let go. "There's only one of these here. What's say we each pay for half of it then spend the rest of the day trying to convince each other who should have it." "Sounds like a reasonable plan to me," Monica had agreed. "I'm Marita by the way. Marita Covarrubias." "Monica. Monica Reyes." That afternoon was just what the doctor had ordered. Both women shared stories of how their jobs had recently chewed them up and spit them out and how Paul Winter's music for Marita and whale song for Monica put them back in touch with what was good and pure and excellent in the world. Monica smiled at that memory. She looked back at Valentino and sighed as she touched his red heart before reading his note: "Put me and this picture in your basket and go into the kitchen." In the kitchen, another small votive sat on the kitchen table. Nearby was a wine glass and a bottle of Beaujolais. Propped up against the bottle was Romance the bear! Monica sat down and shook her head. The presence of Romance and a bottle of Beaujolais always meant a night of romance. He had sat guard at the foot of their bed while she and Marita made love the night before Marita had left for her fact finding mission. The post-it on the wine bottle said, "Here's looking at you kid." Monica opened the bottle, poured herself a glass and toasted Romance with a wink. "Here's looking at you kid," she said, hearing Marita's voice as she did. Casablanca was Marita's favorite movie. It made her cry and laugh and cheer the good guys and feel good about selflessness. "It reminds me why I wanted to work for the UN in the first place. I need reminding a lot these days," Marita had said sadly. "I've made some choices . . . begun to work with someone that makes me feel . . . dirty." It wasn't something she had to say. Monica knew the cool exterior that Marita showed to the world was just a front. Monica had seen the real Marita in the way she surrounded herself with all these soft, little beanie babies. There wasn't a surface anywhere in Marita's apartment that hadn't at least two or three beanie babies perched or peeking or striking playful poses. Marita's need for play struck a responsive chord in Monica. Memories of playing with Marita warmed Monica's heart as she finished her glass of wine. She picked up Romance and nuzzled him against her nose, making soft growly bear noises. Then she read his note: "Time to go upstairs." Monica added Romance, the wine and the glass to the basket and hurried gleefully up the stairs wondering who would be waiting for her next. In front of the bathroom door sat another votive and beside it was Bubbles the fish on top of a small container of bath beads. Bubble's note read: "You know what to do." Monica laughed and went inside. She set the picture of Marita and herself on the toilet seat where she could see it, set the basket in the sink and carefully perched Bubbles, Romance, Valentino, Halo and Snowball along its edge so they could watch her. She poured herself another glass of wine as she ran herself a hot steamy bath. She set the glass on the edge of the tub, dropped two of the bath beads into the water, undressed and got in. Monica relaxed into the water as the scent of sage and memories of their first bath together wafted on the heated air around her. Marita had been soaking in the tub and Monica had come in by mistake. Before she could apologize and back out, Marita stood up and held out her arms to her. Monica had moved shyly forward and let Marita pull off her T-shirt, pull down her panties and help her into the tub. She remembered the feel of Marita's breasts against her back, Marita's legs around her legs, Marita's hands moving from her shins to the inside of her thighs to the soft hair of her bush. She remembered Marita's slender fingers sliding effortlessly up her stomach to caress her breasts then back down again and into her vagina while her thumb circled Monica's clit. Monica's own fingers now mimicked that caress and she gnawed her lip as her moans and sighs filled the bathroom. The warm scented water surged around her as she arched up then back down to the rhythm of her orgasm. Sated, her eyes fell first on her basket full of witnesses and then to the picture on the toilet and she had to laugh, really laugh. She felt Marita all around her and the loneliness she had carried with her all day was gone. She picked up the wine glass and saluted the loving couple smiling back at her from the photograph. "Here's looking at you kid. Thank you for my Merry Christmas." She dried herself off and took everything with her into the bedroom. She placed the basket of beanie babies on a chair and the wine bottle, her glass and the picture on the night table. She turned to pull back the comforter and sheets and let off a startled gasp. There nestled between the pillows was Waves, the orca whale beanie baby on top of a DVD case. The little note around its neck said "Play me." She turned on the TV, put in the disc and pressed play. Her mouth dropped open as she watched a montage of images sweep before her eyes: Marita waving, Marita laughing, Marita blowing kisses, Marita playing with beanie babies, Marita sleeping, Marita showering, Marita eating; all to the music of that original Paul Winter whale song recording. A happy tear pooled in Monica's eye, slid down her cheek and into her smile as she read the message at the end of the montage. "Here's looking at you kid. Merry Christmas. Made with love especially for you by Josie's Journeys of Joy." Monica looked at the clock by her bed and saw that it was indeed Christmas. She turned the TV off and sat on the edge of the bed, reflecting on the joyful journey she had just taken in the last hour or so. She went over to the basket and brought all the beanie babies over to the bed and placed them in with her. Then hugging the framed photo to her chest, she pulled the covers up to her chin and fell happily asleep. The quiet of the early morning was broken by the ringing of the phone. Monica woke up and gazed at the time. 4AM. She wasn't annoyed. She knew it could only be one person. Her heart danced as it heard the rhythm of Marita's voice. "Merry Christmas darling. Enjoy your journey?" "Marita, you are the absolute best! How did you do this? When did you have the time?" "I have a great friend named Josie who loves that we're a couple. I told her my Christmas tale of woe and she whipped this up just for us. I hope Snowball and company have been taking good care of you." "Wonderful care. Have I told you that I love you?" "Only every time you look at me, talk to me and touch me. I'll be home soon and we'll have a wonderful new year together in New York. In the meanwhile, Merry Christmas." "Merry Christmas, mi amorcita," Monica whispered. End
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