Lacy things - the wife is missin,'
Didn't ask - her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear

"Shut up, Spike!" Cordelia yelled at the bleached-blonde vampire. He sneered and continued singing, even louder than before.

In the store - there's a teddy,
Little straps - like spaghetti,
It holds me so tight,
Like handcuffs at night,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.

"Come on, man," Gunn interjected. "The first time, it was funny; the second--okay, the fifth time you sang it, it was still funny. The fiftieth...well, it's gotten old."

Spike continued singing.

In the office there's a guy named Melvin,
He pretends that I am Murphy Brown.
He'll say, "Are you ready?" I'll say, "Whoa, man!"
"Let's wait until our wives are out of town!"

Fred giggled hysterically.

Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress - like Madonna,
Put on some eyeshade,
And join the parade,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!

Wesley turned up the volume of his CD player. Thank God for headphones.

Lacy things...missin'
Didn't ask...permission,
Wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear,
Walkin' 'round in--

Cordelia, Gunn, and Wesley breathed sighs of relief as the singing suddenly stopped. Spike glared at Angel and tried to continue singing around the cookie stuffed in his mouth.

Fred giggled even harder as crumbs sprayed from Spike's mouth.

"Okay, I am so not cleaning that up," Cordelia muttered.

Spike swallowed what was left of the cookie. "What's the big idea, Scrooge? Didn't you like my singing?"

Angel just shook his head in disgust before heading to their room.

Spiked followed and watched as his lover collapsed on their bed. He studied the weary lines on the angelic face that he loved. It had been a trying year. Darla. Glory. Buffy. It's a wonder we 'aven't gone crazy...er He flopped down beside Angel with a sigh. Sneaking a peak, Spike noticed that he had garnered no reaction from his mate. He sighed again, dramatically. Still no reaction. The his lips quirked as an idea came to him.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking ho- Oof!

Spike's words turned into a grunt as he fell to the floor. He picked himself up indignantly, glaring at Angel's smirking face. "Stupid git," he muttered angrily, lying down again. He turned on his side, facing away from his lover. He stiffened as a silk-covered arm pulled him back into a hard body.

"Come on, Wil,"" Angel whispered into Spike's ear, "you know it was funny."

Spike tried to pull away, but Angel's arm kept him in place. "Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too!"

"S'not!"

"S'too!"

"Oh, wonderful. Now we're gonna run to the kitchen like a couple of kittens," Spike muttered angrily.

"What?"

"Nothin'." He relaxed as Angel's large hand stroked his stomach rhythmically. "Still not forgivin' you," he purred.

"Okay," They cuddled silently for a few minutes. "Wil?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"Sing to me?"

Spike thought about singing another of his crazy ditties, but decided against it. His pale hand covered Angel's as he began to sing.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.

Faithful friends who are dear to us
gather near to us once more.

Through the years we all will be together
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

As his voice faded, Spike smiled slightly. Hmm...this is nice.

"Love you, Wil."

"Love you, too."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."