“Son of a bitch.” Chandler swerved through traffic, gripping the steering wheel with such ferocity it was in danger of crumpling in his fists. Brake lights flashed in front of him, driving him to a halt. The sun was setting. He hoped he wasn’t too late. Snow drifted down, glowing in the headlights like falling stars. “Come on, come on.” He wished that he’d had the presence of mind to have asked Mr. Pang for his phone number. There’d been no follow up call from him, and he hoped that was a good sign. He prayed that he wouldn’t be too late.

There were more than a couple moments when he eyed the emergency lane, wanting to cut around traffic, but inching by a few accidents and police stops silenced the idea. He began to fantasize about having a monster truck and driving over all of the cars to his destination.

In the boredom and stress of sitting in traffic, he began to think about Adrian. He wondered how pissed off he was right now. He felt a pang of irritation at how Adrian had reacted when he’d asked what was wrong, but was able to quickly suppress it before it flared up any further. Thanks to occasional therapy sessions since moving to Rosebridge, he was getting a little better at controlling his moods and reactions. He knew that Adrian must’ve been stressed from the work, but Chandler still suspected there was something more going on. He just hoped he was okay. If things didn’t work out here, then he’d just tell Adrian what he’d been up to. It was better than spending Christmas in a bad mood.

He slackened his grip on the wheel and relaxed into the seat. Just as he did so, the brake lights began to thin out. The traffic seemed to be dissipating.

Finally, Chandler took the exit off of the freeway towards Wolfeboro. He followed a two-lane road for a while, which took him alongside a lake lined with snow-covered trees and the occasional house before turning north into bare forest. He drove on, and began to wonder if the GPS was giving him the wrong directions. It felt like he was in the middle of nowhere. Then, suddenly, a building appeared on his right. His mouth hung open as he passed it. To call it a house would be a vast understatement. It was a full-on multi-building compound, gated, with a garden sparkling with Christmas lights. He passed another mansion complex just like it, and then another. The road turned again, taking him through more forest, and finally, he arrived at his destination. Chandler pulled up to the gate, and could tell that this place was no different than any of the others. It was ginormous. A palace. His entire hometown could probably have been housed here.

As he reached towards the callbox, the gate swung open. A voice crackled over the speaker.

“Mr. Longman! Please, continue all the way to the end of the driveway. I will meet you there.”

He marveled at the extravagance of the place as he drove down the driveway, which was long enough to be considered a road. The house itself was spectacular, built in the colonial style. He parked by a fountain, and as he got out from the truck a tall man strode out to meet him.

Lingtian Pang was younger than he’d expected, probably in his mid-forties. He was immaculately dressed and groomed, like he’d stepped out of some cologne advertisement. He held out a hand. “I’m Lingtian Pang,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Longman.”

“You as well, Mr. Pang,” Chandler said, shaking his hand. “Thank you again for responding to me.”

He gave a brisk nod. “I’m afraid time is short. Please, follow me. Are you hungry, perhaps? I can have something brought out for you.”

“Ah, no, sir, I’m fine.”

They walked along in front of the house, which seemed to stretch on forever.

“So, the car belonged to your husband’s father,” Mr. Pang said. “What was his name again?”

“Adrian. His father’s name was Sam. He passed away, I think it was seven years ago, now.”

“They must’ve been close.”

“Yes, sir. I never got to meet the man, but from all the stories I’ve heard, I feel like I knew him. Adrian and I, we’re both gearheads. We run a garage together. His dad taught him everything about cars. I think that Adrian feels like his dad lives on through him through the work he does. I mentioned it in my letter, but he used to have a ’66 Ford F100 pickup that he and his dad worked on together when he was young. He lost it in an accident this year. Really took it hard.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to hear about that. And that’s why you’ve been searching for the Plymouth.” Mr. Pang stopped in front of a line of garage doors.

“Yes, sir.”

“I admire your tenacity, Mr. Longman. I can tell how much you care about your husband.”

“Adrian and my daughter are everything to me.”

“Oh, you have a daughter?”

“Yes, sir. Six-years-old and twice as smart. Actually, she’s learning Chinese.”

“That’s fantastic.” He brought out a small remote control from his pocket, and one of the garage doors began to slide up. “Your husband’s story reminded me of my own. My father was also responsible for my love of all things automotive, especially classic American cars which as you can imagine, are a rarity in China. We were not so lucky to have owned and worked on any back then, but we did have a wonderful time looking at the photographs together.” He gestured for Chandler to go ahead of him into the garage. When he did, strips of bright LED lights shimmered on across the ceiling. Chandler’s mouth dropped open. What they were in wasn’t just a garage, it was a show-room. There were hundreds of cars there arranged in neat rows, everything from exotic supercars to classic muscle.

“Holy shit,” he said.

Mr. Pang smiled. “This way.”

They walked amongst the rows of cars, Chandler gawking and nearly stumbling over himself as they passed gem after gem of rare and expensive automotive history.

“I started Wufei Automotive as a result of that passion my father instilled in me. Sadly, he passed before he could see what it became.”

“This is something else, Mr. Pang,” Chandler said. “I wish Adrian were here, he’d probably have a heart attack just from being around all this beauty. Do you drive all of them?”

Mr. Pang laughed. “Sadly, I hardly have the time to even look at all of them. I spend most of my time overseas. You were very lucky, Mr. Longman, to catch me while on skiing holiday.”

“Hell, I was lucky to even track the car to you at all. This whole thing has been one wild ride of pure dumb luck.”

“Luck is only ever part of the equation. Don’t discount your effort. Here we are.”

Chandler’s stomach was fluttering with nervous excitement, his heart racing so hard he could hear it pounding in his ears. His hands were sweating, and he pushed them into his pockets. It felt like the last time he’d been this nervous was when he’d proposed to Adrian. He saw the blue bonnet of the car emerge out of the lineup, the chrome twinkling underneath the showroom lights. It was like a dream materializing and becoming real. There it was, the same car from the photograph, right here—and in immaculate condition. It looked like it’d just left the factory.

“Goddamn,” Chandler whispered. He peered inside the cabin at the cream-colored leather seats, and at the instrument cluster on the dash.

“That’s all original,” Mr. Pang said. “The seats needed to be reupholstered, of course, but everything else was in restorable condition. The paint is new. Same color.” He opened the driver side door and popped the hood. Chandler whistled at the sight of the Duster’s V8 engine. “And the engine was restored, but is mostly original as well. No swap.”

“This is amazing,” Chandler said, dazed. “This is the actual car.”

Mr. Pang reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He held it out to Chandler. It was the photograph of Adrian and his father. Beneath the photo was a set of keys. “The very same.” He glanced at his watch. “Mr. Longman, I wish I could talk shop with you, but I need to be catching a plane soon. I’m sorry to make you drive all the way here only to disappear."

Chandler stared at the silver key in his hand, with the five pointed Plymouth logo engraved on it. “How much are you asking for it?” He laughed nervously. “In the shape that’s in, heck, I’m having doubts the amount I had in mind will cover it.”

“Oh, I’m not selling it,” Mr. Pang said.

“You’re not?” Chandler said, doing everything to keep his face from showing that his heart had just dropped down to his feet.

Mr. Pang chuckled. “No, how could I? I’m giving it to you and your husband. It’s a gift.”

Chandler’s jaw replaced where his heart was. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“No.”

“I… What?” He was flabbergasted. “Mr. Pang, I’m… I’m sorry, don’t even know what to say. Why?”

“This car is special. More to you and your husband than it is to me. And reading his story brought me back fond memories of my father.” He patted Chandler’s shoulder. “And besides. I’m a multi-millionaire! I can buy another one!” He laughed and shook Chandler’s still dumbfounded hand.

Chandler stood there, the photograph in one hand and the key sitting in his other open palm. It just didn’t seem real, like he was in a dream. He closed his hand around the key, feeling the texture of the cool metal. But here it was. He’d found it. And soon, Adrian would have it. The feeling of astonished numbness was replaced with a wash of relief. He was not a crying man, nor was he an emotional one, but he was moved by Lingtian Pang’s act of kindness. It was a miracle, and he knew just how happy this was going to make his husband. He wiped the tear away from his eye before it could drop down his cheek.

“Thank you!” Chandler said. “I’ll never forget this, Mr. Pang. And… We’ll make sure to buy only Wufei parts from now on.”

Mr. Pang’s laugh echoed through the show-room. “My secretary will be in contact with you, Mr. Longman. We’ll make arrangements to have the car delivered to you. Have a safe drive back.”

* * *

When Chandler arrived back in Rosebridge, it was near midnight. He quietly let himself in. The house was quiet, and he was surprised to see that the Christmas tree lights were still on. He went over to the tree to switch off the lights, and smiled when he saw that Adrian was asleep on the couch. He knelt down in front of him and just admired him. He looked adorable, with a slight furrow on his brow. Chandler brushed a few stray strands of his brown hair from his forehead and kissed him there. He stirred, and groaned softly before opening his eyes.

“You’re home,” he said groggily. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty,” Chandler replied. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Bad traffic.”

“How’d it go?”

“It went great.”

“Mm. Okay.” He sat up. “I wish you’d just talked to me about it before running off like that. Lexie spilled everything about it.”

“You’re kidding me,” Chandler said. What the hell, Lexie? “She told you everything?”

“Yeah. And I definitely support the idea. They both deserve a bonus. We’d be up shit creek without them working for us. I just feel shitty not thinking about it earlier myself.”

He had to laugh. A Christmas bonus? Was that what she’d told him? “They definitely do deserve it,” he said, sitting on the couch next to Adrian. “Hey, listen, um… I’m sorry about today. I was a dick. And I shouldn’t have just jetted off like that.”

Adrian nodded. “I was being a dick, too. I’m sorry.” He snuck his hand into Adrian’s. “Shit’s just been crazy lately, and…” He let out a long sigh.

“What’s up?”

“Fuck. I really, really wanted this to be a surprise, but there’s no other way. You remember that letter I got the other day?”

“Yeah.”

Adrian got up and went to the shelf. He pulled down a book and removed the packet of papers from inside it. Chandler raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I wanted to get you something really special for Christmas.”

Chandler was puzzled. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell kind of present involved the Department of Homeland Security, but came up blank. He took the packet, which was creased and crumpled, and opened it up to read it. His eyes scanned slowly over the document. As he began to make sense of just what it was he was reading, his heart leapt up to his throat.

“No way,” he said softly. “Oh my god.”

It’d been over half a decade since he’d seen Koko, but like any close friend long whose absence is missed, she hadn’t ever been far from his mind. In fact, the idea that he would never see her again had weighed heavily on him. He’d kept it mostly to himself, never really jully expressing to anyone just how much he missed that dog. In the back of his mind he was waiting and dreading the day he’d receive word that she’d been KIA, or that she’d passed away from old age.

Memories of the war flooded back to him in a way they hadn’t in a very long time. He remembered how Koko had been there while he was recuperating from his first firefight, where Adrian had dragged him to safety, putting himself in the line of fire. He remembered the comfort Koko provided him. It was before he’d found the courage to confess his feelings to Adrian, and seeing him in danger like that had scared him more than anything he’d ever felt before. He’d told Koko, who had listened attentively to him as he confessed everything to her, letting out his feelings for the first time. She’d licked his cheek, and he remembered how it felt like she was giving him approval—approval to be himself. To tell Adrian how he felt about him.

He was crying. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop it. His tears blotted the paper and he quickly wiped his face with the heel of his palm.

“Oh my god,” he repeated. “I didn’t even know she was up for adoption. She’s been there, needing my help for this long and I didn’t even know.”

Adrian wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “That’s not your fault. Not at all, okay? The important thing is that Koko is waiting for us. She’s ours. We just need to meet her first. That’s all they want, and we can adopt her.”

Chandler slipped his arms around Adrian, pressing his face into his neck. The warmth of his body comforted him. He gritted his teeth, doing his best to choke back more tears. “I love you,” he told Adrian. “God, you’ve got no idea how thankful I am for you.”

Adrian took Chandler’s face in his hands, and gently pulled him into a kiss. “I do know. I do know, because I feel the same way for you.”

As Chandler grinned, a few more tears sparkled down his cheeks. “Where is she?” he asked. “Where do we need to go?”

“West Point. New York.”

“That’s a long drive. We’ll have to make a weekend of it.”

“I’ll call them tomorrow morning.”

Chandler had momentarily forgotten about the Duster, and when he remembered he was flooded with another surge of happiness. He grabbed Adrian around the waist and heaved him up in the air. Adrian shouted in surprise and wrapped his legs around Chandler’s waist.

“Woah!”

Chandler grinned up at him. “I think this deserves a celebration. Why don’t we take this to the bedroom?”

Adrian smirked. “I dunno. We aren’t gonna have this tree up for much longer. I think we should enjoy the season while we can.”

“I hear you,” Chandler said, and he craned his neck back for a kiss, still holding him up around his waist. He melted into it, savoring the feeling of Adrian’s lips on his and the tickle of his stubble against his skin. He slowly lowered him down to the floor so that Adrian was straddling his crotch, never breaking from the kiss. He could feel Adrian’s bulging excitement, barely contained by the squeeze of denim that stood between their naked bodies.

As Chandler worked to undo the buttons of Adrian’s shirt, he felt the warm caress of Adrian’s breath on his ear as he kissed and sucked his earlobe. A flick of his tongue sent an electric shiver running down through Chandler’s body, all the way to his cock. He tugged Adrian’s shirt off his chest and dropped it to the floor in front of the Christmas tree. Then, holding the back of Adrian’s neck with a calloused hand, he licked, sucked, and kissed his neck, down to his collarbone and then to his nipples. Adrian moaned softly and tugged Chandler’s shirt free. They hugged each other tightly, feeling the reassuring warmth and press of each other’s bare skin.

They were here, together, safe, and they’d always be together. Their love was a damn miracle. Adrian was a damn miracle. He loved him so much.

Chandler whispered that into his ear. Adrian responded in turn, his voice cut with ragged passion and impatient excitement. Adrian’s hand plunged down to Chandler’s waist, his fingers fumbling eagerly to open his belt. Chandler helped him, pulling open his jeans, and then pushed Adrian down to the floor onto his back with a loud thud. He didn’t need to be gentle. They were military, and gentle took a backseat to fervor. Adrian struggled out of his jeans, kicking them off. Chandler tugged down his underwear, freeing his cock. He ducked down and took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue across his head and tasting the drip of precome waiting for him there. He was delicious. He could never get enough.

Adrian groaned as he pressed his fingers through Chandler’s hair, slowly moving his hips to thrust his cock down his throat. Chandler took him, loving the feeling of his man’s cock. His own dick was aching for Adrian, dying to feel him, and when Adrian breathed out a strained plead for him to fuck him, he wasted no time. Adrian got on his knees and bent over the couch, sticking his ass out for him. Chandler removed his underwear, taking his tumescence into his fist and, after lubricating Adrian, pressed up to his entrance. He pushed in slowly, eyes fluttering back as his warmth engulfed him, squeezing tightly around his cock and drawing him in. With one hand he gripped Adrian’s waist, the other his shoulder, and he thrust into him, going in all the way to the hilt. Adrian tossed his head back and gasped out a moan before throwing a hand over his own mouth.

As he fucked him, Chandler reached around Adrian’s waist and grabbed his cock and stroked it in synchronization with his thrusts. He felt Adrian tighten around him in response, drawing him closer towards an electrifying climax. He gritted his teeth, pounding in hard, doing everything he could to keep himself from coming right then and there. Adrian’s moans were still muffled by his hand, but he had to let go to steady himself. He grabbed on to the couch cushions and bit his lip, trying his hardest to restrain his voice.

Chandler was going to come. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He tried to tell Adrian, but it came out as a labored groan, like some kind of animal. He thrust in hard and deep as the orgasm exploded through his body. At that same moment, Adrian cried out, unable to hold his voice. Chandler felt his cock flex in his hand, and his hot finish spilled out across his fingers.

The two of them collapsed onto the floor together into each other’s arms, their chests heaving with exertion. Chandler’s head swam, and he saw stars flitting around his vision. They reminded him of the swirling snow during the drive to Wolfeboro. Neither of them could speak a word. They sat there trying to catch their breath, staring into each other’s love glazed eyes. They kissed, and pressed their foreheads together.

A smile spread across Adrian’s lips. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.