For my Christmas stories I am using a candy cane rating:
1 candy cane - sweet
2 candy canes - sugary goodness
3 candy canes - Hallmark card sweet
4 candy canes - awake till midnight on the sugar high
5 candy canes - diabetic coma inducing, someone get the insulin ready.
 
 
Christmas With You
 
Author: Lilithangel
 
Website: www.livejournal.com/users/lilithbint
 
Fandom: AtS
 
Characters: Spike/Angel
 
Genre: Christmas schmoop
 
Rating/Warnings: G this is a three bordering on four candy cane story.
 
Summary: for woman_of who wanted Spike and Angel on Christmas morning.
 
* * * * *
 
Angel woke up on Christmas morning with a feeling of foreboding.  When he remembered why he leapt out of bed to get ready.  Spike had agreed to spend Christmas with him.
 
He didn’t know if it was a good idea or not but Fred had made him promise to make the effort after they had both confessed to a hankering for Christmases of yore.  Minus the blood of innocents of course, but all the things about Christmas they both remembered.
 
Angel had told her he didn’t really celebrate Christmas and Spike had snorted.  They had started in with their normal arguing and Fred had lost her temper.  She had demanded that they tell her something good about their history together and Spike had admitted to the Christmas celebrations they had shared with Darla and Drusilla.  They had silently agreed to omit where their celebration feasts had come from and what Drusilla had like to hang as garlands on the tree.
 
It had made them both nostalgic and she got them both to promise to try before she flew home for Christmas.
 
Angel had been amazed at how many things you could get in L.A if you were prepared to pay for it.  The living area of the penthouse was festooned with garlands and a seven foot tree decorated in tasteful blue and silver.  Secretly Angel had wanted a proper Victorian tree but had been afraid Spike would tease him.
 
Angel had agonised over a gift for Spike even going to the point of asking Wesley for help.  That had resulted in a very blank look and a call to Fred who at least had a few ideas.
 
In the end he had settled for ridiculously expensive as being the answer to everything.
 
Angel heard the lift just as he was putting the finishing touches on the table.
 
Spike stepped in carrying a parcel and a bottle.  He blinked with surprise at the decorations and the lights everywhere.
 
“Merry Christmas, Spike,” Angel said, “can I take your coat?”
 
“Merry Christmas,” Spike said and thrust the parcel and bottle at him.
 
“Thank you,” Angel looked at the objects in surprise as Spike shed his coat and added it to the pile.
 
“”S’not polite to go somewhere without bringing a gift,” Spike said at Angel’s look.
 
“So we’re really going to do this?” Angel asked as Spike threw himself into a chair.
 
“Be civil for a morning so Fred’s happy without us lying to her?  Yeah, we’re really going to do this, but it will require alcohol.”
 
“Oh yeah,” Angel said heading for the bar putting the parcel under the tree on the way past.  He poured two drinks and returned with the bottle.  “So, I’ve got food for later and Fred gave me a CD of Christmas songs I could put on…”
 
“How about we do lie about that to her?” Spike said with a shudder.
 
“Okay, so what should we do next?” Angel said, sitting down next to Spike.
 
“Normally we would have shared a snack with the girls now,” Spike said a little nostalgically.  “Or Dru would open her presents.”
 
“We could do presents,” Angel said, resolutely ignoring the memory of what Drusilla was given for gifts.  “Fred left a pile from the others.”
 
“Yeah?” Spike sat up in surprise.
 
“Shall we?” Angel gestured to the tree.
 
“Alright,” Spike said standing up.
 
Somehow they were both sitting by the tree sorting out the presents.  “This is yours, from Gunn,” Spike said, tossing over a parcel.
 
“This is one for you from Wesley,” Angel said, passing one back.
 
Angel was carefully piling up his presents until they were all sorted but Spike didn’t have the patience and tore open Wesley’s immediately.
 
“Brilliant,” Spike pulled out a set of wrist retractable stake harnesses, “now I can give yours back.”  He buckled them on and admired the fit.
 
Angel grinned and pushed another pile of presents to Spike before starting in on his own.  A very nice pen set from Gunn, a ceremonial dagger from Wesley, Barry Manilow’s back catalogue from Fred, Season Hockey tickets from Lorne and… Angel looked up to see Spike staring in horror at the #1 Blondie bear mug from Harmony.
 
His laugh was cut off when he a new #1 Boss mug to replace the last one he accidentally broke.
 
Spike had a stack of CD’s, what looked like concert tickets and a pair of boots.  “Boots?” Angel looked at Spike quizzically.
 
“Not just any boots mate,” Spike said, “made by the Pope’s cobbler they are.  Lorne got that crazy bird from the Italian branch to arrange it.” He added proudly.
 
“So that just leaves you and me,” Angel said, pushing a small parcel towards Spike.  “I didn’t really know what you’d like…”
 
“Me neither,” Spike said, pushing the parcel he had brought over to Angel.
 
“You’d think after a hundred odd years we’d know…”
 
“Well I didn’t think you’d like what I’d pick for Angelus and we’ve not really spent that much time together,” Spike said.
 
“Fred knew what you’d like and so did Lorne,” Angel said, feeling suddenly annoyed that Spike would open up to them.  Of course they didn’t have the history of torture and abuse that he and Spike had.
 
“Fred and Lorne knew what the mail guy liked,” Spike said, with an eye roll.  “An I-Pod!” he said, getting distracted by his gift.
 
Angel’s gift is a volume on demonology from a set he had been collecting.  “Thank you,” he said in surprise, “where did you find it?”
 
“Demon guy down in Chinatown owed me a favour.”
 
“Thank you.  Fred said she will help you load your CD’s into the I-Pod.” Angel frowned at the small unit that the CD’s were obviously bigger than.
 
They sat and considered their presents for a few minutes until Spike jumped up.  “Let’s eat.”
 
“Okay,” Angel said, relieved that the silence was broken.
 
The food was tastefully selected and laid out with a selection of bloods including Otter.  Spike made a selection and poured blood over it all as gravy.
 
“Ick,” Angel said surreptitiously added some blood to the sliced beef he had chosen.
 
Spike rolled his eyes and pointedly dipped his turkey meat into the blood gravy.  Now the silence was covered by eating and they both started to relax.
 
Somehow they were talking, about work and the team, and not fighting.  It was strange but both kind of liked it so pretended not to notice how normal it was. 
 
They finished the food and Angel ate more than he expected to.  Spike poured them new glasses of blood and they went back into the living area to stare companionably at the tree lights.  Angel fetched a bottle of whiskey and they proceeded to empty it.
 
Neither felt inclined to be that drunk so let the alcohol process steadily through the blood so they could enjoy the mildly fuzzy feeling.
 
It was strangely comforting not having to say anything or pretend.  Just two tired champions taking a day off together.
 
“What do you miss most?” Spike asked Angel.
 
“Being allowed to enjoy myself,” Angel admitted.  “Every time I laugh I can see the others edging for weapons, even you.  I am allowed to laugh you know.”
 
“But you don’t, do you?”
 
“There’s not often a lot to laugh about.”
 
“Sometimes that’s the only reason to do it.”
 
“What do you miss most?” Angel said after a few minutes silence.
 
“The truth?  This,” Spike admitted, “no agendas, no fighting, just us.”
 
“Really, not Dru, not the killing?”
 
“I’ll always love Dru but she was hard work, especially at Christmas.  I miss the simplicity of killing not the act itself.”
 
“Yeah…” Angel agreed with a sigh.
 
“Miss one other thing too,” Spike said, turning to look at Angel.
 
“Me too,” Angel said, moving so they were almost nose to nose.
 
“Merry Christmas, Angel,” Spike said, closing the distance and kissing him softly on the lips.
 
“Merry Christmas, Spike,” Angel said returning the kiss and deepening it.
 
Christmas morning turned to Christmas afternoon without the kiss stopping even when Spike straddled Angel for a better angle on the kiss.  Then the kiss became kisses with hands pulling at clothes to become reacquainted with skin again.
 
The heat of the evening sun became the fireplace of memory from when family gathered after the slaughter to just spend time in languid pleasure.  No matter what either said they had never forgotten those times, and their bodies proved the memories by rejoining the dance as if it had only been minutes and not decades.
 
At some point they had gotten completely naked and something slick had been found so that Spike could be stretched open and take Angel inside.  They barely moved, still locked in the kiss, content to simply feel each other.
 
This also was part of a memory long buried, from those moments of stillness that had occurred more often than either would admit to.  Not even as Angelus and the newly formed Spike would they have admitted to those moments when they just were.  Neither sire and childe, nor vampires nor men, just lovers by the fire with fairy lights reflecting on their skin.