Written for the Fic-Mas Card project Christmas, 2004.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series are the intellectual property of FOX, Mutant Enemy, and Joss Whedon.
This Fan fiction is written for fun, NOT FOR PROFIT. No copyright infringement is intended.

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All The Trimmings


“Cane me.”

Spike snickered. “Was saving that for later, love.”

Xander rolled his eyes, turning away from the tree to look at Spike. “The candy canes, smartass. They’re in the box behind you.”

“Bit busy at the moment,” Spike said, his hands fumbling the strands of lights that were piled in his lap, tangling around his legs. He worked one foot free and kicked the box of decorations closer to Xander.

Xander grunted his thanks and started digging through the box, spilling ornaments and bits of tinsel onto the carpet until he found the candy canes.

“Ever wonder why Christmas fripperies – candy canes, icicles, candles and what all – are so…”

“Pointy?” Xander asked, stabbing toward the vampire with the business end of a plastic icicle.

“…phallic,” Spike continued, muttering as he tried to work his boot free from the snarl of lights. “Must be something in observing the creation of a patriarchal, monotheistic holiday that tells us non-believers to piss off.”

“Hey!” Xander said, pausing in unwrapping a candy cane. “Santa loves everyone.” Xander grinned at Spike’s indulgent chuckle and stood watching for a moment as Spike became further enmeshed in the twinkle lights. “You need to plug those in first. Make sure they all still work.”

Spike sighed in irritation, struggling to his feet and hobbling over to the outlet and then digging the plug end from where it had wormed its way into the waist of his jeans and plugging it in. He turned to Xander in horror. “They’re blue.”

Xander fluttered his lashes at Spike. “Like your eyes.” He laughed out loud at Spike’s look of disgust and then shrugged. “The one year I remember my Mom putting a tree up, the lights were blue. Ergo, blue to me is Christmas. And they’re pretty. Like your eyes.”

An hour later, the lights were off of Spike and on to the tree, along with unwrapped candy canes (despite Spike’s objection that this made them all “sticky”), bulbous icicles, real candles (which Spike had insisted on, and then begrudgingly agreed to wait to light until Christmas Eve, since Xander hadn’t yet sprung for renter’s insurance) and the five-pointed-star tree topper from Willow (that Spike, of course, pointed out bore a striking resemblance to both a Star of David and a pentagram, causing Xander to just shrug and say she was, “keepin’ it real.”)

Xander turned out the lights in the apartment and stood looking at the tree, the blue lights dim compared to the look of joy on his face. Spike smiled and eased behind him, wrapping his arms around Xander’s waist. “Is it everything you wanted, pet?” he asked softly, brushing his lips against Xander’s neck.

Xander placed his hands over Spike’s, leaning back against him. “Got everything I want right here.”

Spike slipped his hands free and slid them down to cup Xander’s groin. “With all the trimmings,” he promised.

The End

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