NotTim paced back and forth furiously in his (not his) room. His candy cane had long since been sucked away, and even though he wanted to go get another, he couldn't. He couldn't have candy canes unless Engineer said he could.

And even so, candy canes look better when they're hanging on the Tree than they look sticking out of his mouth.

So Spy paced around with two cigarettes in his lips, eyes on the ground before him and arms hugging his stomach so tight that he was starting to feel a little sick from the pressure. (Well, that and he hadn't gotten any breakfast. Too loud that morning. Too risky. Someone would've seen him in there.) He was trying to keep himself calm and under control so he could think, but the cold and the ever-present bout of fear that welled up in him at times like these were making things very difficult.

Engineer had put his arm around his shoulder. He'd done it slowly, gently, so cautious, so careful not to scare him. His arm had been big, strong, a little heavy, and oh, goodness, it had been so warm. It had felt so nice on his neck and shoulders, so cozy and safe, and oh, it was so very, very good, and he'd almost wanted to hug Engineer!

But he couldn't; there was no way to escape hugs. You were clamped between two massive arms that kept you from going anywhere and you couldn't get out. But, if Engineer's arm had felt that nice... Spy couldn't even imagine how good it would feel to hug Engineer.

Spy sighed happily at the thought. His pace quickened around his (not his) room. He wondered, briefly, if being so close to Engineer was worth the risk of an inescapable embrace, but the thought instantly vanished, replaced with the one life-saving mantra of Spies everywhere:

Always have an escape plan. ALWAYS have an escape plan.

No matter what the payoff of a risk may be, a Spy must always have the power to flee the scene on a dime.

NotTim frowned in dismay and sucked harder on his cigarettes. It wasn't a pleasant thing, smoking, but without it, God only knew what kind of a sorry wreck he'd be. It was a wonder he hadn't developed ulcers by now.

Spy whipped his thoughts back to the task at hand; to Engineer. Christmas would be here in a few days, and after all that Engineer had done for him, Spy felt obligated to give him something. The only problem was what that gift would be. What could he possibly give Engineer that he would like and didn't already have? And it couldn't be something from a store; that was lazy and unoriginal, and Engineer deserved so much better than a store gift. Engineer deserved something special; something unique.

What was something that NotTim and only NotTim could make?

Mistakes was the first word that came to mind. He tensed; an instinctive reaction, but then he stood straight and shook his head.

"N-not... not g-gonna g-g-go there..."

He just needed to think. Think of all the things Engineer has talked about. What sort of things did he ever mention—

"You like candy canes? I love 'em. They go nicely with a couple gingersnaps an' a little hot cocoa..."

–really liking?

Gingersnaps and hot cocoa.

Oh, but... NotTim didn't know how to cook! What was he supposed to do now! And even if he could cook... the... the kitchen... wasn't... his...!

Pyro cooks.

But– But– He– He couldn't ask for help! Pyro would never teach him how to cook! Why would Pyro bother helping NotTim when Pyro knew Spy would just wind up spilling ingredients everywhere and messing up as always?

Pyro's your friend.

But... he still couldn't ask for such a big favor like that. It was Rude.

Scout is your friend, too.

But Scout can't cook, can he? And even if he could, Scout wouldn't. He's got his own gifts to give. He can't waste his time helping Spy.

This is for Engineer.

...

NotTim stopped pacing.

...

"... Yer a great Spy, son..."

Well, that was it, then.

A wave of energy swept over him, starting in his chest and spreading throughout his whole body. His heart pumped harder, driven by something that, for once, wasn't fear.

This was Engineer he was talking about. Engineer had saved him from getting killed by his old teammates when he didn't have to. Engineer let Spy sleep in his room sometimes, and Engineer talked to him, too. Engineer had done so many things for Spy out of sheer kindness, and Spy owed it to Engie to be Brave and give him the best gift ever. Even if it meant talking, and-and getting laughed at, and... and being called 'stupid'... NotTim would do it! NotTim had to do it! For Engie!

He looked up at the door shut tight in front of him. He was usually afraid to open doors, but if Engineer was waiting for him on the other side, then by-golly, NotTim had to open that door!

Spy took two steps forward, grasped the handle so tight that the bones in his fingers creaked, and he jerked the door open.

But it didn't budge.

He pulled again. It still didn't open.

Spy blinked. Then he realized the problem and squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation.

He turned the handle, and then jerked the door open.

I*~*I—I*~*I

NotTim stood in the corner of the now emptied kitchen, watching Pyro put all the leftover cookies in a plastic container to store in the fridge, wondering exactly what the heck had possessed him. This was a bad idea, and it probably wasn't going to work. He'd have to talk.

Pyro shut the fridge door, then looked right at Spy and waved. "Rr! Hrr thrr, Sphrrk! Drrd yrr wrrnt srrm crrkrrs?"

Spy tensed. Run, run, RUN!

Pyro motioned for him to come sit down. Spy didn't want to... but, if Pyro had already seen him and wan't kicking him out, then he supposed there was no real reason not to stay... especially if there were...

NotTim had a seat at the empty table. Pyro opened the containers and daintily retrieved two Flaming Sugar Stars and one Gingerbread Boomerang, (Pyro kind of stuck his pinkies out when he handled food, Spy noticed) placed them gently on a plate and served it to him.

"O-oh no, I-I c-c-couldn't—"

"Yrrs, yrr crrrd, Sphrrk! R knrr hrr mrrch yrr lrrv swrrts. Grr rrn, trry thrrm!"

Oh, he shouldn't, but he really did want to. Delicately picking up a yellow and orange colored Sugar Star, Spy took a small bite of one point, felt the grainy sugar on his tongue, rolled it around in his mouth, and let it dissolve.

Then, eyes practically shining, he bit off the entire spike.

Pyro laughed. "Srr? R knrr yrr'd lrrk thrrm."

Spy slowly worked the delicious sweetness around in his mouth and swallowed the syrupy goo it left behind. "I-I-It's so... the-they're s-so...!"

"Swrrt? Mmm-Hmm! Swrrtrrst crrkrrs rrvrr! Scrrt hrrd frrv hf thrrm rrlirr. R trrld hrrm thrrgh, 'Drrn't rrt hll hf thrrm, rr thrr wrrn't brr rrny lrrft frr Sphrrk!' R mrrd thrrm frr yrr, yrr knrr."

NotTim's chest tightened, eyes wide. "F-f-f-for... me?"

"Yrrp! Wrrll, R hrrd yrr rrn mrrnd whrrn R mrrd thrrm. Nrr hn lrrvs shrrgrr lrrk yrr, hrftrr hll."

Spy looked at the Star in his hand, then back at Pyro. Despite every fiber in his being telling him not to cry, he couldn't stop himself. Pyro made me cookies... Pyro made me [b]sugar[/b] cookies... and here I am asking him to help me make a present for Engineer and not him... and I didn't even show up at the table when he served them — for [b]me![/b] Oh no, no, no! I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I can't...

"... Sphrrk, Sphrrk, rrt's rrkrry! Rrt's rrkrry! Drrn't wrry, R wrrntrrd trr mrrk thrrm! Thrr yrrs! Jrrst frr yrr!"

Spy hadn't even realized he'd started crying his eyes out. Pyro was sitting next to him now, one rubber hand on his back, rubbing slowly, soothingly. Apparently he'd been babbling a little as well. Oh god, he hadn't said too much, had he?

"Rrt's rrkrry, Sphrrk, rrt's rrkrry. Rrvrrthrrng's rrkrry."

How was he supposed to ask Pyro for help now? Spy didn't have one thing to give Pyro in return, and on top of that, he'd just burst into tears like a big fat baby. Pyro was going to be sad when he asked. Pyro probably already wanted him gone after he'd just cried all over the place.

His hands were shaking like mad, but NotTim somehow managed to reach into an inner pocket and pull out his personal notebook and pencil. He opened to a new page, with difficulty, and began scribbling down everything he wanted to say but knew he couldn't. He didn't know what else to do, but he had to do something.

Pyro watched the words appear as Spy wrote with one hand and held the Sugar Star in his mouth with the other, mostly to stifle his bawling.

"Rr, Sphrrk! Sphrrk, Sphrrk, yrr drrn't hrrv trr grrv mrr rrnythrrng! Yrr drrn't hrrv trr grrv mrr rrnythrrng ht hll! Rrt's Chrrstmrrs! Rr, Sphrrk, Sphrrk!"

Spy was sucking on the Star like mad, and it was probably already half goo in his mouth, but all the salty tears were making it hard to tell. He ought to run away, he thought, he really ought to just go away and leave Pyro alone because nobody ever wanted him around after this kind of breakdown, but... he couldn't. He just... couldn't find the gall to run away from his friend after being given such a gracious gift. And he had absolutely no clue why. Normally he'd be out of there faster than thought.

"Thrry'rr jrrst crrkrrs, Sphrrk. Rrt's rrkrry. Rrt's rr-rrkrr-rry."

Eventually, after much of Pyro's coaxing, Spy found himself calming down.

He had to wonder why, too. He would usually pour his soul out through his eyes for hours before calming down if Engineer wasn't there with him. He ate more of the Sugar Star, and suddenly found that he felt... better. A lot better, actually. Wow. It was weird. He... actually hadn't cried like that in a while. He was still tense, but he'd forgotten how good it felt to just let everything out.

"Rrh, thrr wrr grr, hll brrtrr nrrw?"

Spy sniffed. That was really weird. He took another bite, and the sugar was even more sweet now than before, and it was just so unbelievably delicious that Spy didn't want to think about anything else.

"A-are... y-you sure you...?"

"Rr'm prrsrrtrrv. Drrn't yrr wrry hrrbrrt mrr. R mrrk crrkrrs frr rrvrryrrn hn Chrrstmrrs."

Spy half-listened and nodded. He slipped the last of the first Sugar Star into his mouth and sighed as he grabbed the second one. Ooh, so very good. Great, even. NotTim felt great, and all warm and fuzzy inside.

Since his mouth was full, and talking when your mouth is full is Rude, Spy went to write his question for Pyro in his notebook. He didn't even think about it; his hand just... started writing. But Spy didn't mind too much; it was easier to do this than it was to talk anyway.

It was a bit difficult to hold the pencil for some reason, but he got the entire message down nonetheless. Once Spy finished writing, he fumbled with his pencil before just giving up and letting it drop. He lazily brought the second Star up to his lips. Pyro didn't seem to notice his odd behavior and clapped his hands together in utter joy.

"Hrrt Chrrclrrt rrnd grrngrr snrrps? Frr Rrngrrnrr! Rr grrdy! Rr'd lrrv th hrrlp yrr mrrk Rrngrrnrr srrm trrhts! Rrnd R knrr thrr prrfrrct rrcrrprr, trr!"

Pyro dashed back to find the recipe book cabinet. NotTim just sat still, nice and quiet. And tired. Why did he feel tired? And when had his cheeks started burning up? Come to think of it, his entire face felt a little hot. Very, very odd. And yet he couldn't recall ever feeling so calm before. Spy took another bite from his Sugar Star. Not even curling up with Engineer had made him feel so rela—

Spy froze. Somewhere in his brain, the pieces fell into place. He stopped mushing his bite around. His eyes locked on the Sugar Star in his hand.

"Uh, P-P-Pyro...?"

"Yrrs, Sphrrk?""

"U-um... uh... F-Flaming Sugar St-St-Stars...?"

"Rr, wrrll, yrr knrrw," Pyro made a vague gesture with his hand as he extracted a big, blue book. "Thrr frrd crrlrr rrnd hll... R mrrn, thrry lrrk lrrk thrry'rr hn fyrr, drrn't thrry?"

"Er..."

Spy felt a wave of something warm pulse though his stomach. It felt like there was a beach inside of him, and every wave that washed up filled him with warmth. It wasn't entirely pleasant.

"Rr! Hrr's thrrs prrsky rrcrrprrs! Hrr yrr gh, Sphrrk!"

Pyro placed on the table a pair of notecards with ingredients, supplies, and instructions scribbled on them. One was labeled "Lucy's Ginger Snaps," and the other "Hot Chocolate with Nutmeg".

"U-u-uh..."

"Krrp thrrm hs lrrng hs yrr nrrd thrrm, rrnd lrrt mrr knrrw rrf yrr nrrd rrny hrrlp wrrth rrnrrthrrng!"

Spy blinked through the haze of tired that swept him up, fumbled for his notebook and his pencil that had rolled onto the floor, and tried to slip them back into his inner coat pocket. He was sweating hard under his balaclava, and he knew it.

"Th-th-thanks..." he murmured quickly, and cloaked to make a hasty getaway. NotTim was out of that kitchen and down the hall in a jiff.

Pyro tilted his head.

A few moments later, sourceless steps approached the table again, slow and embarrassed, and the notecards vanished into an invisible hand.

Pyro was glad that Spy would never see his huge smile.