Rum and Cookies

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine. Spike leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, relishing the sight before him. Buffy sung along to the little radio that belted out "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" as she flipped cookies onto racks to cool. The kitchen counters were covered with wire racks, mixing bowls, and pastry tubes of frosting. She had a red Santa hat perched on her head. Buffy was wearing Joyce's special Christmas apron, a hideous confection of red and green gingham accented with rows of tinsel trim. As she pirouetted back around to the oven she caught a glimpse of Spike out of the corner of her eye. "Hey honey! Did you get all the stuff?" Spike held out the box and bags in his hands for her inspection. "Why did you buy so much rum?" she asked, puzzled. Spike raised his eyebrows at her. "Two words: Xander. Anya. Any questions?" Buffy glared at him. "You are going to be very, very nice tonight, aren't you? It's Christmas Eve." Spike put the box and shopping bags down on the floor and grabbed Buffy around the waist. "The only way that I am going to be very nice for you is if you are very nice to me. Whatcha going to do for me, Slayer?" He nuzzled her neck as his hands slid up her chest. She moaned as she pressed her neck harder against his mouth. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as she pressed herself snugly against him. They ignited. Spike ripped off the stupid Santa hat and grabbed the back of Buffy's head. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly. Buffy threw him off balance and they both fell to the floor. Spike started pulling off her jeans and flipping up the apron. "Want you, need you,” he muttered  Buffy lay back on the floor, eyes closed, breathing hard. Just as Spike succeeded in getting her pants off, the oven timer buzzed. "The cookies! My cookies!" She tried to sit up, but Spike was having none of it. "Screw the bleeding cookies," he growled. "They'll burn," she pled, as he tried to unlock her knees. "I don't give a bloody damn," he said. "I have a sweet little cookie right here." Flustered and irritated, she pulled her apron down. He pulled it up. Down. Up. Down. "Let me turn the oven off and we can go upstairs," she said coaxingly. "I don't want to go upstairs. I want to shag you, right here, right now. On the kitchen floor, in your precious little apron, with sodding Christmas tunes playing in the background, alright?" said Spike loudly. Buffy's eyes lit up with anger and her jaw clenched. Uh oh, thought Spike. Now I've done it. "You are ruining Christmas!" she yelled. She threw him off and marched over to the stove. "If you made me burn my cookies, I am going to kick your ass!" Spike figured that at this point a hasty retreat was in order. He booked it down to the basement. Buffy failed to notice that the case of rum went with him. Down in the basement, Spike paced back and forth. A licorice twist hung out of the corner of his mouth as he spoke into the cordless phone. "Hello? Sharon? Yes, this is Spike. I need an arrangement sent over here pronto. Yeah, stuck my foot in my mouth again. What kind of thing will she like? Something bursting with holiday cheer. Greens, pinecones, forest type stuff. Hell if I know. That's your bit. Card? The same as usual. Yep, put it on the tab. Appreciate you doing this so close to closing time. Thanks." Hanging up the phone, he stopped, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly. "Right then." Flopping down on the couch, he looked around the room. Sitting on the coffee table were a bunch of snacks and toys that Buffy had bought him to give him something to do when he got the urge to smoke. Licorice sticks. Rubik's Cube. Juicy Fruit gum. A Game Boy. Pixie Sticks. Silly Putty. A thousand piece puzzle of Big Ben. Within easy reach, over on the floor, rested a nice case of rum. Tough choice. Getting completely pissed because his fiancée had lost her mind to holiday insanity? It was highly tempting. Playing with the Rubik's cube? Infinitely more likely to lead to snogging with Buffy later. God, he was whipped. He stuck another Twizzler in his mouth and concentrated on getting all those little blue squares on the same damn side. Buffy walked down the basement stairs.  She carried large evergreen centerpiece brimming with roses, candles, and pinecones. "Spike?" She peered around the corner and saw him crashed out on the couch. The Rubik's cube was dismantled on the table, lying on the empty bag of licorice. Placing the centerpiece gently on the floor, Buffy crawled on top of her sweetheart, resting her head underneath his chin. She snuggled on top of him, cherishing the smell and feel of him. He stirred underneath her. "Buffy?" He blinked down at her, looking sleepy and feline. A lazy smile crossed his face as he pulled her up and kissed her. Gently, delicately they embraced, every gesture a testament to the depth of their feelings. He broke away from the kissing to murmur, "I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass. I didn't mean to upset you." She looked up at him, smiling. She smoothed his hair with her hand as she spoke. "I'm sorry I'm so snarly. I just want things to go well. I want a Merry Christmas and I can't wait to tell everyone that we are getting married." He sat up and arranged her on his lap so that they were snuggled together. "I really think we should tell the niblet before we tell everyone else."