Xander wiped a hand across the foggy glass. With a sigh he wrapped the scarf around his neck.
"Where you going, luv?"
He turned and took in far more pleasant scenery. Spike's jeans were slung low, the muscular vee drawing Xander's eye to the button fly. He couldn't decide if the top one needed buttoning or if the rest needed to go.
Xander groaned. "Gotta shovel me some snow."
"You're not going anywhere," Spike said, taking the shovel out of his hands.
"Snow's not going to shovel itself."
"Don't want you wearing yourself out that way. Better ways of doing that."
Spike flashed the grin that never failed to make Xander shiver. How was it again that he'd come to share his bed with a predator?
"You can't go out like that!" Xander protested, noting that the only thing Spike had added to his ensemble were his boots.
"Can. Not warm blooded. 'Sides, makes for a better show."
Speechless, Xander couldn't argue. Not that he wanted to. Through the glass, he watched as Spike's muscles bunched and released, lifting and tossing snow over and over. He made it look so effortless. His touch did that to a lot of things.
A few stray flakes caught in Spike's hair. Xander ran a hand through his own, looking forward to brushing those flakes out. But even more, he looked forward to warming Spike up. And if he planned it just right, it might take all night.