Wesley was humming.

Not just any song, but a cheery, peppy version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Angel's tall, usually retiring partner flitted amongst the clothing racks in the women's lingerie department at Macy's.

Why was Wesley in the women's lingerie department? Because he was shopping for Cordelia, who had decided that Angel Investigations should celebrate the noxious holiday together, as a family, Gunn included. So, she had, in a terribly complex and circular manner only truly understood by Wesley, gods knew why, suggested that Angel and Wesley, as the patriarchs of their 'clan', should not only host the festivities, but provide comfy, fun, pajamas for the participants to wear.

Some might ask why the entire staff at Angel Investigations needed comfy, fun pajamas in order to truly feel the Christmas spirit.

Others might wonder why this task would be left up to a dead man and a sometimes fashion challenged Englishman.

Angel didn't ask these kinds of questions. In the grand tradition of men, dead or not, all across America during the holiday seasons, he just grunted, drove, and served as a mule across miles of malls.

This was the fifth mall the two lovers had been to on their tedious quest. Five malls, and untold numbers of poorly recorded, badly broadcast Christmas melodies.

If Angel had any nerves left, Wesley was humming them into oblivion.

For the eighth time in two hours, his usually quiet lover frowned at the pajamas he held in his hands. Wesley shook his head at them and beckoned for Angel to follow him as he strolled to the next stand of silky women's pajamas.

But Angel stood his ground, three bags from Filene's on one arm and a huge paper bag full of Christmas wrapping and ribbon on the other arm. Wesley frowned at his recalcitrant lover.

"Angel, really, the faster we go, the faster we're done. It's bad enough that we left this till Christmas Eve. Stop dawdling." Wesley dismissed Angel for the moment, turning his attention to the stand of clothing before him.

Angel breathed sharply through his nose in a vain attempt to calm his violent urge to throw Wesley down on the shiny store floor and muss up the perfectly put together, Abercrombie and Fitch outfit the Englishman sported. 'I will not rip expensive clothes off his body, I will not, I will not.' For a centuries-old vampire, he had remarkably little restraint sometimes. He knew this. He didn't really see it as a problem, but he knew this.

So, he patiently waited while Wesley dismissed yet another pair of pajamas and pondered the advantages of easily rippable fabric over something like leather. As they finally exited Macy's, headed for the Filene's at the other end of the seemingly endless Mall, Angel held his breath through the 1/2 mile of perfume counters. Just when he gave himself a silent pat on the back for escaping the demonic perfume ladies, a noxious cloud of the latest in men's fragrances enveloped his head.

A titanic sneeze seized Angel's sinuses in a tight grip. He did his best to hold it, but lost and let the sneeze explode, spraying a small flood of mucus over his hand.

Wesley didn't miss a beat. He handed Angel a handkerchief, knowing full well the vampire never thought to carry one of his own, and kept walking. Angel stared at his hand in disgust and noisily blew his nose on the proffered square of cotton. With a beleaguered, bitter glance at his companion's regrettably clothed backside, he schlepped after his lover, keeping his vitriolic opinions on shopping to himself.

Okay, he could handle the music. After all, it was fairly…harmless, just tinny, loud, and obnoxious, but harmless. The perfume…well, that was easily avoidable. In Filene's, the perfume counter lay just past the ladies lingerie. Therefore, since they were only shopping for pajamas, everything was fine.

Just fine.

Switching the bags to one hand, Angel took a deep breath, stalked over to Wesley, and caught the man's arm in a death grip. He ignored the litany of protests and half-hearted curses emanating from Wesley as he surged through the pulsing crowds of Christmas shoppers. In no time flat, they were in the men's bathroom and Angel headed for the blissfully available handicapped accessible stall.

"What on earth…" Wesley sputtered as his lover dropped his bags, spun Wes around, and kneeled before him. Mere seconds later, Angel had his face buried in Wesley's crotch, leaving no mystery as to the vampire's intentions. The Englishman found it difficult to breathe, never mind form coherent thought, what with the preternaturally powerful nose snuffling along his khaki covered, engorging penis. Wesley gasped as Angel began to nibble on him through the cloth, marking the length of beige fabric with wet, dark teeth marks. Helplessly, he bucked his hips into the voracious mouth, unable to remember why oral sex in a mall bathroom could ever be a bad idea.

Before Wesley could so much as grasp Angel's gelled locks, Angel had Wesley's belt out, pants down, and boxers nothing more than a fond memory. The odd, familiar lack of warmth on his dick sent Wesley's hands deep into his lover's hair, gripping the skull in a comfortably solid hold. Angel gently suckled on the flat, bobbing head of Wesley's cock, pausing every few moments to blow a devilish stream of air across the slit, now oozing precome.

Regrettably, like so many of Angel's brilliant ideas, this one was doomed to failure. Several sharp knocks rained down on the door of their stall. A monotone, Hispanic sounding voice floated past the gray metal.

"Mall is closing. Please leave."

No. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. Angel fell away from Wesley, wincing as his lover' s hands got stuck in his hair, then mercilessly disentangled, leaving the vampire's head to smack against the door. He looked up at Wesley only to see the man tucking his erection back into his pants, wincing at the pain.

Dammit.

Stupid, cursed, horrid malls. Angel gritted his teeth and got to his knees, wondering if there was a way he could just plop all malls everywhere into some sort of mystical black hole. He made a note to call Willow about that as he followed a flushed Wesley out of the bathroom under the bored but watchful eye of a security guard.

The two lovers quickly left the mall. Angel watched every bounce of Wes' heel, each delicate glide of shoulder blades, all the minute temptations whispering under Wesley's deceiving clothing. Ah, the wonders to be found there. Thoughts of nibbling at the sensitive nipples almost made Angel drool and in minutes, Angel's hips were making friends with Wesley's as they grappled against each other on the front hood of the car in the deserted . The vampire had possessed some dim thoughts of getting in the car before resuming their fun, but Wes had barely gotten to the vehicle before hauling Angel in for an intense kiss. Happily lost in the delicious warmth of his lover's mouth, Angel's keen vampiric hearing failed to hear yet another security guard coming to interrupt their illicit fun.

Twenty minutes later, the two extremely frustrated, annoyed, and now sheepish gentlemen sat in the precinct of one Kate Lochley.

And she didn't look happy.

More to the point, her eyes gleamed. They had a pointed "I've got you right where I want you and boy howdy I'm going to make the most of it" kind of look.

Angel opened his mouth to make an attempt at talking his way out of it only to think better of the decision after Kate glared at him. An unpleasant grin spread over her face, causing Angel to gulp and grab Wesley's hand. The vampire decided to brave a question.

"Do we get due process? A phone call?" Two was probably pushing it.

Kate sighed and waved at the phone on her desk. Angel picked up the phone and called Cordelia.

The answering machine picked up. "Hi, Cordelia Chase is out on location right now and cannot be reached. If you need to see her for a role, please press 1. If you are calling about anything else, please press 2. Thank you for calling." With an increasing sense of despair, he hung up the phone after leaving a brief message. Before Kate could protest, Wes plucked the phone from Angel, quickly dialing the offices. Again, only a machine picked up. Now both men had the same doomed expression on their faces, much to the obvious delight of the female detective sitting behind her desk. She ruffled through a few papers on her desk and began to speak.

"So…indecent exposure…funny charge, that one. Most times, it means a night in jail and maybe a few dozen hours of community service. This case though, this one is special. You see, Angel here, no last name mind you, doesn't seem to exist. Golly, he could be homeless for all we know, or maybe he doesn't have a place to go for Christmas." Angel stifled a groan. He had a very bad feeling about this. "So, we're going to keep you in custody until after Christmas, just to make sure you have a warm place to sleep and…" Kate's smirk grew, distorting her usually pretty face, "…something warm to eat."

It could have been worse. At least she hadn't said anything about a nice sunny cell. As it was, he'd suffer the wrath of Cordelia for missing Christmas and he'd get a little hungry.

"Really, Detective, I must protest…"

Kate's smile grew almost evil. "Oh, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, I wouldn't if I were you. At least I'm not throwing you in the drunk tank. On Christmas Eve, it's pretty, uh, rank in there." Wes wisely chose to stay silent at that point.

Angel squeezed Wesley's hand. Maybe he and Wes would get lucky and Kate would put them in the same cell. A brief fantasy of Wesley bent over a jail style bed, wiggling his adorable butt cheeks in Angel's face reminded the vampire of his unfulfilled need. Things had to look up sometime.

Detective Lochley stood up and motioned to a uniformed cop standing near her desk. "Hanley, take these men to holding cells, and make sure they're not next to each other.

So much for things looking up.

Meekly, as meekly as Angel ever did anything, he walked out of the room, down the stairs, and into the open and waiting cell. He got an all too swift glance of Wesley being shepherded into his own cell before respective doors clanged shut. Angel lowered himself to the bed and laid down his head on the thin pillow. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to think about anything other than his painful erection, still happily throbbing away.

As Angel drifted off to sleep, he centered his thoughts on the clean, crisp scent of his lover, complimented by a fastidiously cared for wardrobe. Gentle hands, holding on to his, swaying in front of the mirror every morning. Bare feet, luxuriously warm, gliding up his shins, ruffling the leg hair. Everything good and lovely in Wesley lullabyed Angel in that dark, tiny cell.

And Angel slept, the chiming of Christmas bells sounding in the distance.