-12-

It was only a little over a week until Christmas, and yet you couldn't tell from looking at the small house that seemed to be buried under the snow. Even though the porch was covered in the white blanket, there was not a single light to be seen, not a tree in the window or mistletoe over the door. It was a plain looking thing, and it didn't seem as if it would be much else anytime soon.

However, take one step through the front door, and you'd see you were quite far from that problem.

Andy Barclay and Charles Lee Ray- more commonly known by his nickname, Chucky- were tangled in the most obnoxious Christmas decoration of all- lights.

"Let's just give up, Andy," Chucky said, shaking the cords wrapped about his arms in a dramatic display of frustration. He was frowning, lips pursed in an unamused manner. "I don't think I can even fucking move right now!" He squirmed about in his sitting position to prove his point.

Andy looked over from where he was currently also held captive by the merciless lights and grinned. "I don't know, maybe we could just decorate you," he teased, giving the doll a once-over. "You could be a Christmas angel."

"Fuck off, you little brat. How about we hang you up in these, huh?" Chucky growled at him in an attempt to appear threatening, but Andy simply leaned over and plugged the cord into the wall he was situated near. The lights flickered on around them, and Andy laughed mirthfully at the look on Chucky's face.

"Perfect! Now stop scowling and sing a carol, you're ruining the effect." Andy put up his hands and mimicked snapping a photo.

Chucky kicked his feet from where he was, making the effort to push his little feet towards the young man who was extremely amused at his own joke. "Andy, I ought'a just rip these stupid things right now and…" he didn't finish his threat, because as he attempted to stand and just rip the stupid things, there was a crackling sound and then a little pop! before dead silence and the two looking at each other in shock.

"What just happened?" Andy asked, glancing back to see if he'd pulled the cord out from its position in the wall.

Chucky shrugged, still a bit dazed from when he had tumbled back down onto the floor. His eyes were wide as quarters. "Don't look at me, I'm an angel, remember?" he retorted, sarcasm the ever faithful gift that kept on giving.

Andy started to study the lights that were still flickering here and there. His eyes trailed from where the cord began to where it had entangled itself around him. He carefully held each bulb in his hand, trying to figure out where the snapping sound had originated from. The look on his face was extremely concentrated, fingers meticulously checking the light bulbs.

And for the sake of someone's fragile dignity, we are going to pretend there weren't a pair of blue eyes a little more than simply mesmerized with watching just how carefully Andy checked the lights.

In fact, we are also not going to mention the heat that made itself rather visible on that certain someone's cheeks when Andy leaned over to reach the lights that had made themselves snug around a small figure.

"Looks like you're a fallen angel," Andy murmured, tapping the broken bulb. "Your little holiday concert just put out a dozen bulbs." He grinned up at the doll, dimples and all, and held up the section that had been blown out proudly.

Chucky grimaced at him. "You provoked me," he accused him, poking the young man's cheek with his finger. He gave the lights a glare, as if staring at them angrily enough would be all it took to have them turn back on right away. "If it's anyone's fault that I fell, it's yours, you demon spawn."

Andy wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I'd pull you down again, if it meant you'd be right here messing up these lights with me," he began, and Chucky opened his mouth and began to reply with something along the lines of cut that out but Andy put a hand over his mouth to continue, "I mean, I have to blame someone."

The doll rolled his eyes and shoved Andy's face away from him, trying to hide his amusement. "I'm writing Santa a letter and asking him to give you a fucking sense of humor, you moron," he harassed him. He huffed and crossed his arms, contemplating the problem of the now dead lights. He held up the cord with his arm.

"Can't we just put these in the corner or something? It's not like anyone will actually care that there are twelve dead beats lying in some corner."

Andy reached out then and pulled Chucky close and laughed into his sweater, much to the doll's shock. He muttered something that sounded very much like, "Let's get you in a corner then, hmn?"

Chucky lifted his tiny hand and smacked at the top of the young man's head with a rather angry sounding, "Andy!" before leaning over to whisper some sort of vitiated retort, leaving the pair of them to chuckle rather deviously, the lights momentarily neglected.