God, his paycheck's gonna be gone before he sees it, won't it?

Late November. Couple days before the last month of the year hits. The weather's already awful. No snow yet in Georgia, still clung tight to her hot summer, negligent to even speak of the fall, but the cold gets most bitter in the evenings.

... which is when you step into the house after work with the biggest grin and a list; he's screwed. 'Cause he knows he'll buy you everything you even spare a second glance to.

"We done yet?" he grumbles, one hand holding a gazillion bags of gifts and decorations, the other held in yours as you drag him to another brightly lit shop in the mall.

You laugh, like he was making a joke. "Mm, no honey. We still need to get gifts for the other deputies, and the neighbors, and we need to get new cakepans for Christmas Eve, and.."

"Blah, blah, blah" is what he hears, as he makes a sad face when the two of you pass the food court, knowing damn well it'll be atleast another hour before you even think of stopping for a snack break.

"Baby?" he hears you chirp, breaking him out of a daydream about the football game he's gotta catch up to later. He turns to look at you, holding up a mega-pack of mistletoe and those Christmas cherry things. Whatever they are.

"Yeah?" he answers, staring at you like her never heard of the concept of buying things. Like, at all.

You grin in that way that makes your eyes sparkle. Pleading. Slightly, sweetly manipulative. "Caaaaaan we get this? I can pay for it! Think I maxed your card out anyway, for tonight."

He rolls his eyes and waves a hand. "Mmm. S'long as you promise to hang that shit everywhere on the ceiling. So we can have a li'l smooch anytime we damn well please."