Mark Cohen awoke groggily on Christmas morning to see Roger Davis hovering excitedly over him, giving the filmmaker the impression of a very tall, blond hummingbird. Mark blinked and reached for his glasses. As his formerly blurred roommate came into focus before him, so did the irony of the situation.

"Roger... since when are you up before me?"

The reply was a winning grin, the sort which always made Mark smile back and then wonder how much time he had left before something blew up in the next room. Finally, he resigned himself to his fate and checked the clock.

"My god, you're awake before seven. This really is a day for miracles."

"Aw, quit whining," teased Roger as he pulled Mark out of bed and immediately put his hand in front of his lover's eyes.

"What the—Roger, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to see your present."

Mark struggled blindly as Roger led him out of their bedroom.

"Roger, we said no gifts. You know we can't afford it."

"Aw, come on, Mark, I couldn't resist. Just look!"

As Roger uncovered his eyes, a look of excitement lit up Mark's face. Sitting pathetically in the middle of the room was an obviously second-hand artificial tree, about five feet high, and with several branches missing. Roger watched Mark anxiously, awaiting judgment.

"I got it really cheap at a pawn shop, so... I know it's not much or anything. It's just that... I mean, I've seen how you look at the trees in store windows. But if you don't like it—"

He suddenly found his lips too occupied with Mark's to bother with speech.

"It's the perfect gift," exclaimed Mark, as he pulled out of the kiss. "Come on, we've got to decorate it!"

Roger backed away, laughing.

"Mark, much as I love you and your holiday cheer, there's no way I'm stringing pieces of Cap'n Crunch together all day."

"Damn right you're not—what would we eat? We'll find something else we can use."

"We don't have any lights or ornaments or anything."

"Hmm... some of my film was overexposed recently, before I got to use it," Mark began to explain as he rummaged through the trash to find the video tape. "I'll take it out of the cassette and it can be a—what's it called?—a garland."

"I've got some old guitar strings lying around. I guess we could put those on there, like those icicle things. They are sort of shiny," suggested Roger, as the two began a search for anything ordinary they could transform with the right amount of merriment.

Soon they had a highly unusual tree. Empty beer cans had been used for most of the ornaments (as Roger had reasoned, "They're colorful and shiny and we've got a hell of a lot of them lying around—what could be better?"). Roger wanted to toss on some condoms for further decoration, but Mark talked him out of it. Mark maintained that it still wasn't a proper tree without a star, but despite their searching, no suitable substitute was found.

Giving up on the star, the two stood back and admired their work for a while, before Mark suddenly spoke.

"Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"I got you something, too, actually."

"But Marky," Roger scolded playfully, "we agreed, 'no presents', remember?"

"I know, I know, we're both guilty. It's just something small, but—hold on, I'll go get it."

When Mark returned from their room he handed Roger a five-by-seven photo. The musician recognized the picture as being taken at his last birthday. Mark had been carrying an absolutely hideous cake over and had tripped on an extension cord. Collins saved the cake and Roger saved Mark, sweeping him easily—and literally—off his feet. In the picture, Mark was looking very surprised as Roger held him in his arms, grinning at him mischievously.

"I know it's not as great as a tree," apologized Mark, "but I found it at Maureen's and I thought you might like it if—"

This time it was Roger's turn to silence Mark with a kiss.

"I love it and you. And it's just what we need to complete our tree."

As he spoke, Roger taped the picture to the top branch as the star, the finishing touch. He stood back, his arms around Mark's waist, to view the decoration.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Mark, obviously pleased.

"Perfect," agreed Roger, kissing Mark softly just below the ear.

"We should take a picture of it."

"I wasn't talking about the tree," Roger said simply, continuing to plant kisses down Mark's neck. "I was talking about you."

Mark turned his head to face Roger and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"Roger?"

"Hmm?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mark."