Spike stomped in from the Summers' kitchen and flung himself onto the couch.

"Why is it so hard for people to remember that vampires don't celebrate Christmas?" he asked.

Xander looked over from where he was laying a fire in the fireplace.

"Maybe because you're over here helping the girls decorate the house? Or because you've been singing punk versions of Christmas carols all day?"

"Not anymore. I'm done."

"Cookie decorating didn't go well?" Xander asked, settling another log into place.

"These fingers were meant to pluck out eyeballs, not fuss with colored bits of sugar and royal bloody icing. Who ever heard of a vampire using powdered sugar?"

"Dawn made fun of your cookies, huh?"

Spike snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Not my fault that the fangs on my snowmen ran. She says it isn't traditional. But did she say a word when Red decorated her reindeer with magic instead of using the sodding pastry bag? No. 'Course not. Like cookies getting up and dancing around is bloody traditional."

Xander sat back on his heels.

"There are lots of other things you could do besides work on the cookies. Buffy and Tara are getting the ornaments out of the attic, and when Giles gets here we're going to start decorating the tree. You could help with that, or you could come outside with me and hand me the lights while I string them around the front porch."

"Don't see why I have to do anything. Not like I live here."

"But we already did our apartment," Xander said. "This is Buffy and Dawn's first Christmas without their mother, and we're all pitching in to show them that they still have a family."

"If this is for the Niblet then she shouldn't have mocked my snowmen."

"I'm sure Dawn's very grateful you're here."

"Didn't sound grateful," Spike grumbled. "Sounded judgmental."

"She just wants everything to be perfect."

"They're just bloody cookies. Said I was mocking Christmas. Mocking Christmas? It's not like I put fangs on the Santas!"

"They'd be covered up by the beard, anyway."

"That's what I said."

Xander grinned and got to his feet.

"Come help me. You can mock all you want; I'm used to it." He grabbed the box of lights and held out his hand to Spike.

"Fine. But if you call me fumble-fingered you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week." Spike let Xander pull him off of the couch and lead him toward the front door.

"I like your fingers. They're... skilled."

"Suppose I do know a few tricks." He raised Xander's hand to his lips and kissed across his knuckles.

"More than a few."

"Maybe we can try some of 'em out later," Spike said, using his free hand to pull the front door closed behind him.

"Just as long as there's no icing involved. I've heard stories about you..." Xander smiled over his shoulder to take the sting of the tease.

"Git. You don't want me to lick it off where it drips?"

Xander's pulse raced as he considered the possibilities.

"I'm very messy..." Spike murmured in his ear.

"Okay. I'm convinced," Xander said. "You're in charge of grabbing the leftover icing."

Spike grinned.

"Nice to see that someone around here appreciates my decorating abilities."

~end~