Christmas. It really is the most wonderful time of the year, isn't it?

Viktor certainly thought so. The smell of baking cookies and pine floated through the air, a soft tune played on the speaker, to which you were happily humming along, and the tree glimmered with little baubles and decorations the both of you had already set up.

This year, you had insisted that the usual pre-christmas celebrations with all of yours and Viktors friends be hosted at your place, and for the last three days--much to Viktor's fond dismay--you had been unstoppable, cleaning and preparing the house for what promised to be a good number of guests.

So now here he was, holding the ladder you were standing on as you tried to put the star on top of the comically large tree, praying that you wouldn't slip and hurt yourself.

"Miláček, please don't fall," Viktor mumbled, gripping the ladder a little tighter. "We need you up and running for the party, you know."