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"I still donít see why we have to decorate the cookies..." Skittery grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to wipe frosting off of his shirt.

"Because," said Snitch, for what seemed like the millionth time, "My family expects me to bring these. Apparently I make them the best. Now here, hand me the nonpareils." Skittery obliged, searching the cluttered table. He looked down at his own (rather pathetic) plate of cookies, then over at Snitchís stack of elaborately decorated confections, letting out a rare laugh.

"I suppose. Yours do look an awful lot better than mine." He leaned in for a kiss, sneaking his hand around Snitch to grab a cookie. Snitch immediately slapped his hand away.

"Weíre leaving for my familyís house in twenty minutes, you canít wait that long?" Snitch grabbed the plate away from him, setting it on the counter and wrapping them in foil. Skittery shook his head wildly, flinging his hair around. Snitch rolled his eyes. "The messy hair bit isnít going to work. Eat the cookies you make." He took Skitteryís plate from the table and handed it to him.

"Thanks, darling." Skittery said sarcastically. As soon as Snitch had his back turned, Skittery ate a cookie from the plate he was handed, swallowing just as Snitch turned to look at him.

"What was that?" Snitch narrowed his eyes, leaning in.

"Nothing!" Skittery protested, licking his teeth clean. Snitch grinned triumphantly.

"No sir, that was not nothing! You just ate one of your cookies. Admit it!" Skittery shook his head, but Snitch badgered him until he relented. "AHA! Tell us, Mr. Stronghold, what exactly does crow taste like?" Skittery scowled at him, then stopped.

"Tastes like Christmas cookies." Snitch groaned, looking away and trying not to smile.

"Well Iím glad, but you still leave this plate alone. Got it?" Skittery nodded, then stuck out the tip of his tongue.

"But that doesnít mean I shouldnít get one of your pretty ones."

Snitch slapped Skittery on the arm gently, turning to go and get dressed. Quickly, he looked Skittery over.

"Youíre gonna wear that to Christmas with my parents?" Skittery looked down at himself; he was in jeans and a paint-splattered t-shirt.

"Uhm... No?" this seemed to be the answer Snitch was looking for, because he smiled and turned away. Skittery stood there for a moment, hoping for further instruction on what, exactly, to wear. Nothing. Sighing, he turned and went to the bedroom to try and choose something. He had shown up to the last Christmas gathering terribly overdressed, and to this past Thanksgiving underdressed. He deliberated for a moment, finally deciding on a pair of khakis and a clean button-down shirt. He put them on, examining himself in the mirror. Bobbing his head, he started humming to himself, then singing, and doing what was known between him and Snitch as his Ďsexy danceí, to the mirror.

"Oh baby all I want for Christmas is you!" he sang, getting into it. Just as he started humping the mirror, he heard a muffled laugh behind him, and turned around, shocked. Snitch was staring at him, hand over his mouth, laughing. "I... I..." Skittery couldnít think of anything to say. Snitch stood laughing for a moment, and when he didnít say anything, Skittery just walked out past him. Snitch followed, trying to calm himself down.

"You look very nice, Skitts. That outfit is perfect." He walked up behind him as the got to the kitchen. "And would you be a DARLING and carry these while we drive?" Skittery nodded, taking the plate of cookies.

"Only if you say nothing about earlier. Not to me or any of your family, got it?" Snitch deliberated for a moment, then agreed. They bundled up and walked out to the car, Snitch getting into the driverís seat. They pulled their seatbelts on, and started on the road. They drove in silence for a while. After what seemed like hours of ridiculously complicated twists and turns (this was why Snitch was driving), Skittery felt brave enough to sneak a cookie from the carefully wrapped package. Slowly, he unfolded the tinfoil, trying to keep it from crinkling. He peeked over at Snitch, who was still concentrated on the road. He peeked inside, trying to choose which cookie he wanted. He settled on a blue-frosted star. Naturally, it was on the side he hadnít opened. Knowing that Snitch would probably not look over (as they were in a particularly confusing section of their travels), Skittery decided just to open it the rest of the way, and not get frosting on his hands. Just as he got the cover off, mid-grin, the car hit a bump and skidded on the slick roads. Skittery held his breath and clutched his arms to himself. As soon as Snitch regained control of the car, Skittery looked over.

"You ok?" he asked shakily. Snitch merely stared at him. "Hon? Are you all right?" Snitch wasnít usually this silent. His eyes were widening and his mouth was falling open. "Seriously, babe, stop the car. Are you ok?" Snitch gasped.

"I canít believe you." Skittery looked at him questioningly. "I canít believe you did that!" he pointed towards Skitteryís chest. Skittery looked down. He had hugged the entire open plate of cookies right into himself. Slowly, he pulled the plate away. Several cookies stuck.

"I... Iím sorry. I was just... Hungry?" Skittery stammered. After all, even he couldnít work his way out of this one.

"You were going to eat the Christmas cookies!" Skittery nodded somberly. "And the worst thing is..." Snitch began dramatically, and Skittery wrung his hands. "The first time in all these years that you pick a decent holiday outfit, you go and smear frosting all over it." Skittery grimaced.

"Maybe we could..."

"DONíT EVEN SUGGEST IT, JAMES MICHAEL STRONGHOLD!"

Skittery sat in silence, hardly daring to wipe the frosting off of his shirt.


After Christmas dinner, presents, and just sitting with Snitchís family, Skittery and Snitch were back in the car, heading home. Snitchís family had found the story quite funny, so Skittery wasnít upset anymore. Snitch seemed to have mostly gotten over it as well. Once they were back at the house, Skittery turned to Snitch before he went to the bedroom.

"I really am sorry about the frosting business." He said. Snitch smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Itís fine. Just donít do it next year." Skittery nodded, leaning in for a kiss. Snitch obliged, taking it one step further and pulling Skittery into a tight embrace. Skittery grunted. "What? Whatís wrong?" Snitch asked. Skittery smirked, pointing to Snitchís shirt.

"You need to make frosting that actually dries, love."