If Dexter knew one thing, it was that Saracen was impossible to buy for.

It was 1786. And all Dexter wanted to do was go home. But here he was shuffling around in the snow looking for a present that Saracen wouldn't 'guess'.

"Oh he knows things," the blonde mage muttered under his breath. He kicked a pile of snow.

"Having trouble?"

Oh this was just great.

"Go away," Dexter whined, pushing the shorter man over, straight into a pile of snow. "I'm trying to get you a present." Saracen grinned and fixed his top hat.

"I don't like the red scarf," the shorter man popped up and brushed snow off his jacket. "What did you get Erskine?"

"You don't know?"

"Of course I do. You got him a horse. A HORSE! And I get a scarf. Is it because you love him more than me? Is it because he's 'a foot' taller than me because it's clearly seven inches-"

"-enough," Dexter banged his head on the window making the glass rattle. Saracen frowned. "What ever mind-shit you're doin,g stop so I can just get you something. I couldn't do it last year, or the year before. Just one year I want to get you something Saracen. Ghastly got material from Shanghai, Skulduggery got a hat from Chicago, Anton got furniture from New York and Erskine got a fucking horse from Dublin. I spent ages and a lot of money on them and I can't buy you a single thing because you know."

"Dex," a soft voice said. He turned to see Saracen who tugged on his hand. Suddenly they were running down the streets tripping and laughing, getting admired looks from women and glares from older women and men. They fell in through the front door of Saracen's flat.

"Okay, so why are we here?" Dexter asked. Saracen grinned slyly and pulled on his hand.

"Well, what I want from you, is frowned upon out there. In here though, it's private more special."

"Uh," Dexter ticked it over and Saracen was amused to see that you could practically see the cogs whirring in his best friend's head.

"Look up Vex."

"Oh," the blonde stared at the mistletoe above him, his face clear from confusion. He looked down at Saracen hesitation fluttering across his face. "I thought you liked girls."

"200 years is a long time to limit yourself to one gender Dex," to his surprise, Saracen's cheeks were flaming. The blonde grinned.

"One good reason, for me to kiss you. Apart from 'Because it's Christmas'."

"It's enchanted. You HAVE to kiss me. Sorry."

"Don't apologize idiot," Dexter laughed. Saracen opened his mouth to snap back when a pair of soft lips shut him up and he found himself drowning in Dexter's scent and well an overwhelming feeling of... love. Dexter pulled back for a second and his eyes searched Saracen's.

"Happy Christmas Rue," he muttered. Saracen swallowed as they slowly backed away from the mistletoe towards the wall. Then Saracen was trapped.

"Never saw this coming," he muttered and Dexter's booming laugh rang through the halls. "Happy Christmas Dex. And also, this is the best present out of all the ones you bought for anyone."

"One last thing," Dexter's eyes searched the shorter man's for a few minutes. "It's six inches. You've grown taller."

Saracen whooped and then was cut off by Dexter's lips that were split into a huge grin.

That was the best Christmas the Dead Men had for a long time. Of course the next two years were great for the others, teasing and jeering. But that is another, less Christmassy story.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!