"You've never built a gingerbread house?!" Y/N asks, shocked.
Spike bites his lip and shakes his head.
Granted, it's not like he's had the opportunity. Noone can imagine life with Drusilla and Angelus was ever... Christmassy.
A twinge of sorrow snaps through her and she frowns. "That's so sad."
"Oh, don't give me that look," Spike dismisses, "Don't pity me."
Y/N fiddles with the fuzzy hem of her Christmas jumper. It's a week before Christmas at the Summers' house and everyone's busy with present shopping. Except for herself and Spike. Spike's not one for presents (seeing as he despises half of The Scoobies), and Y/N has had her gifts wrapped and ready for a month, like the responsible friend she is.
"It's so sad though." she sighs, making eye contact with the vampire. He tries to act indifferent, but his eyes betray him. "We've got all the ingredients. We should make one!"
Spike's instinct is to refuse - he's supposed to be a badass, cruel killer. He's not supposed to bake biscuits with a human, of all people.
He would have said no, if he didn't like Y/N so much.
"Fine."
Y/N claps her hands. She grabs Spike's and pulls him into the kitchen. She smiles to herself, pulling two novelty Christmas aprons out of a cupboard. She holds one out to Spike hopefully.
He takes it cautiously, inspecting the pattern. It reads 'Santa's little helper' with a picture of a dancing elf. "Hell no."
"Spike..." Y/N pleads, flashing a smirk that Spike finds overwhelmingly endearing.
"The things I do for you..." he mutters, shrugging off his leather jacket and chucking it into the living room. He pulls the apron over his head and smooths down the thick material.
"Beautiful." Y/N remarks before retrieving all the required ingredients. Spike watches her passively. The urge to tell her how he feels is especially strong today - maybe it's the fact they're alone, the fact she looks insanely cute in that jumper or possibly Christmas just has this effect on people.
"Hello? Spike?"
He breaks out of his thoughts, absentmindedly reaching for the wooden spoon.
"Hey!" she stops him, "Wash your hands first! Wow, you've really never done this before."
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
Once the gingerbread is in the oven, Y/N slowly slides down the fridge until she's sitting on the floor.
"That was hard work."
Spike stretches his arms out, "Yeah, there was so much bloody kneading."
Y/N smiles and looks down at her flour-covered apron. Spike sits down next to her, placing his hands in his lap to resist the urge to reach out and wipe the smudge of flour from Y/N's nose.
They lock eyes, and Y/N opens her mouth before closing it. She asks softly, "Is this the first proper Christmas you've had?"
There's a pause. Spike's answer hitches in his throat. Is it? "Maybe."
"Maybe?" she tilts her head to one side.
"Yeah. I'd say it is."
Spike had had 'Christmases' with Drusilla, but they were never like this. He never got to partake in the cheesy human traditions, not since he was actually alive. Which was a long time ago.
Y/N can sense that she's accidentally brought the mood down. She puts on a cheery smile and says, "We've done the hard work now. I can't wait to decorate the house."
"Me too," Spike responds, and Y/N grins. He wipes the flour from her nose, noticing a little blush tint her cheeks.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
"No, Spike! Wait!"
"It's fine, I've got it!"
SNAP.
"Spiiiiiiiike!!"
"Sorry, love."
Constructing the house is harder than they both anticipated. The icing isn't sticky enough and Spike just clumsily broke the roof.
After 20 minutes, the gingerbread house is up and waiting to be decorated with gumdrops, sprinkles and icing. Y/N can barely contain her excitement, and Spike is actually enjoying himself - a possibility even he couldn't foresee.
She passes Spike a tube of white icing and he waits, slightly nervously, to be instructed. She raises her eyebrows and Spike sheepishly asks: "What do I do?"
"Whatever you want."
Spike hesitates a second before dotting a few dollops of icing on the top of the roof. Y/N smiles approvingly, placing purple gumdrops on each blob.
"I've never been artsy." Spike warns, drawing wonky zigzags on the sides of the house.
"Yes, you have. What about your poetry?"
"That's a different type of artistry. And they were bloody awful." Spike feels his cheeks heat up and he hates himself for it. He angles his face away from Y/N so she can't see.
"They're not awful." she says quietly. Spike can't help rolling his eyes.
"And how would you know?"
"The internet exists, Spike."
He freezes. "What do you mean?"
Y/N looks at the embarrassed vampire, trying to make eye contact (unsuccessfully). "You can find anything on there. This thing called Google is actually magical. So, I've read a couple of your poems."
"How are they on there?" Spike questions, fear building. Maybe she's joking?
"Trust me, you can find almost anything on there."
There's a beat of silence.
"And I think your poems are really sweet. They were ahead of their time."
Spike shakes his head, "You're just being nice," he mutters.
"I'm being honest," she shrugs, and Spike finally looks up. "There," she smiles, "Doesn't it look great?"
"I wouldn't say great," Spike says, secretly admiring the sugary mess.
"Maybe not, but I think it's perfect."
Part two coming soon <3