T'was the night before Christmas
And all cross the Web
Characters slipped
Into each other's bed
'Cause the shippers were sleeping
And dreaming Het dreams
But the slashers were writing
(too much chocolate, caffine)
And although they weren't networked
And each wrote alone
A miracle happened
As they tried to atone
For a year's worth of trauma
Of torment, and pain
For the angst that kept happening
Again and again.

And so on this night,
The most Blessed of the year
The whole gang could have sex
With nothing to fear
No jail time, no aliens,
No weapons, no clones
No misunderstandings
No one home alone.
They came from each fandom
In twos and in threes
They murmured their thanks
As they fell to their knees.
(Well, one of the them fell
-- at least one at a time --
and we really don't need
further details in rhyme.)

Up Mulder, up Krycek,
Up Daniel, up Jack
Up Tom and Chakotay;
The boys hold nothing back!
On Clark and Lex Luthor
on Josh and on Sam
on Dylan and Harper
Again and again.
Look there's Janeway and Seven
Samantha and Janet
Also Bekka and Trance
(though she's not from this planet.)

And in every story
The sex is incredible
The manacles fur-lined
The lube REALLY edible.
The guys all recharge
like it's May not December
The ladies are happy
That they were remembered.
And at the end of each tale
These words did appear
"Merry Christmas to all,
OH GOD! HARDER! YES, THERE!"