Willow moaned and stirred under the warm blankets as
the insistent tapping on the window filtered through
her sleep-addled brain. She stumbled across the room
and drew back the drapes to find Spike waiting
impatiently on the balcony outside. She unlocked and
opened the window, and he darted inside.
"Bloody hell, luv," he said, pulling the drapes back
across the window to shield out the first glowing rays
of the sun. "I was beginning to think I was either
going to have to break in or be dusted."
"What time is it?" she yawned and blinked up at him.
"Five minutes before my untimely demise," he answered
with a quick grin.
She glanced over at the alarm clock, "Spike! What are
you doing here?"
"Merry Christmas to you, too," he quipped.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. It is, isn't it? You know I don't do
Christmas."
"Right. I know," he nodded. "You just do presents and
cookies and decorating Giles' bloody abode
and--mistletoe."
She blushed at the comment, and he chuckled and pulled
her into him, pressing his lips to her forehead as she
snuggled sleepily into his embrace.
"Mmmm...you're all warm and soft," he whispered.
"And half asleep," she grinned against his chest.
"That, too," he agreed.
She looked up at him, "You can't leave, now. The sun's
coming up. You're stuck here for the day."
"I know," he grinned smugly.
"Sneak," she mumbled.
"Sorry I woke you," he offered.
"You are not," she giggled.
"Okay. I'm not. But if you really want to go back to
bed, I'm game," he teased.
A soft pink flush crept over her face as she pulled
away from him, "I think maybe I'd better get dressed."
"I don't know. I kind of like that," he told her,
eyeing the over-sized t-shirt that draped alluringly
over her soft curves and ended mid-thigh.
"You would," she laughed and went to the dresser, then
turned back as he stared after her. "Do you mind?"
"Hell, no," he grinned.
She sighed and opened the bedroom door, "Go make some
coffee while I take a shower and change."
"Pushy broad," he grumbled.
"You got it," she nodded and shoved him out the door.
***
Spike reached for a mug from the drainboard and filled
it with coffee as he heard Willow's light footsteps
coming down the stairs. He turned, silently drinking
in the sight of her, as she entered the kitchen. Lush,
fiery wisps of freshly-washed hair framed her face.
She had left the soft blue flannel shirt she was
wearing untucked over the jeans that encased her
slender legs and ended at her bare feet.
She smiled shyly under his appreciative stare and
pulled out a chair at the table. He grabbed the one
beside her and pulled it close to hers before placing
the mug in front of her and sitting down. She took a
sip of the coffee and felt his fingers brushing along
the hair near her cheek. She turned her head to look
at him, and he traced her lower lip with a gentle
thumb.
"No mistletoe," she told him.
"Then we'll pretend," he responded. "Because I really,
really need to do this."
Her eyes shimmered, and her lips parted slightly as
his mouth lowered to hers. The kiss was sweet and
tender, and he curled his fingers around the back of
her neck, drawing her mouth harder against his own as
he deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, he took her
hand and squeezed it gently.
"Are you okay with this?" he asked.
She nodded, "Completely okay."
He grinned, "Good. Can I ask one more question?"
Their eyes met, and she nodded once more.
A wide smile snaked across his handsome face, "Where
the hell is my present?"
End.