A/N: Hi everyone! Hope your holidays were lovely and that you got everything you wanted out of them! :) Here's my contribution to The Brittana Fandom's Jolly Holiday Smut-tacular, a 2-shot set in the NSG 'verse, because fluff. You probably should read NSG in order to understand this story, but if you didn't, you can enjoy the fluff I guess… you just might be slightly confused. Thanks to everyone for reading and following NSG, and all my other basic-ass, generic stories. You guys are the best!

Also, be sure to read all of the other excellent stories in the HOLYSMU project, and check the tag on tumblr so you don't miss any! You won't be disappointed. ;D

Okay, have fun.

I am a predator.

A deadly, skilled hunter, perfect in my execution.

My technique can only be described as flawless, my steps? Silent. My prey won't know what hit her, won't know how to combat such fierce opposition. I am lethal. Lethal and experienced and-

SPLAATT!

Taken off guard, I fall to the snow, my face stinging from the cold of the snowball that hit me. Brittany's laughter echoes from around the large tree in front of the house, and I sit up, shaking the snow out of my hair and from my scarf. I quickly make a snowball and wait, scanning the white terrain for my enemy.

I will not be defeated. I am a flawless hunter. I am-

SPLAATT!

Another snowball hits me from behind, and, grinning, I overdramatically fall to the snow and lie still, the snowball still clutched in my gloved hand. It's quiet for a few moments, and then I hear Brittany's boots crunch in the snow as she comes closer.

"San?"

I don't answer. I try not to smile.

"Santana?"

I can hear the worry in her voice, and for a moment I feel bad, but whatever. She shouldn't have fucked with me. She moves even closer and leans over me to inspect me, and that's when I execute my perfect ATTACK!

I snatch her arm; she makes a sound of surprise as I tug her down to the snow with me, and for a moment we wrestle a little. She grabs a handful of snow and pushes it against my cheek, making me yelp from the cold. I dump the snowball I'd been holding under her jacket, and she squeals, giggling and squirming for a minute, and finally, once both of our scarves and jackets have almost completely soaked through with cold water, we collapse to the white-covered ground, giggling, our breathing rapid and making puffs of steam in the frigid air.

"You're no fair, Santana," Brittany pants, but I can hear the smile in her voice. She shivers beside me, and I move to lie half on top of her, grinning as our jackets squish together. I can just barely feel her warmth underneath her clothes, and it makes me want to get closer to it.

"Don't be upset that you lost, B," I tease.

"I lost?" she asks sincerely, and I smile at her fondly, and get that slightly embarrassed feeling that comes over me whenever I know I'm about to say something really cheesy.

"Well I'm definitely the winner, because I have you."

Brittany beams at me- she never thinks I'm cheesy- and leans up to kiss me, and I meet her halfway. She runs her gloved fingers through my hair, getting it even more tangled with half-melted drops of snow, but I don't care. I press closer to her and kiss her back eagerly, and already I feel a lot warmer. When Brittany slips her tongue out to find mine, I moan a little and push into her even more. It isn't until we hear someone clearing their throat that we pull apart reluctantly.

"Are you two quite done?" Mercedes calls from the front of the mansion, and I stare into Brittany's blue eyes, unable to tear my gaze away. She's so beautiful, even covered in snow, with her cheeks pink from the cold and her blonde hair wild underneath her fuzzy hat, which is crooked from our wrestling.

"Not really," I call to Wheezy. I lean down to press one more kiss to Brittany's warm lips, and then whisper, "I'll never be done," against Brittany's cold little cheek. She squeezes me, and I feel her smile.

"You know we're meeting the others in an hour, right?" Quinn chimes in.

I roll my eyes as I climb off of Brittany and brush the snow from my clothes. "Yes, Mom, I haven't forgotten why we are back in Bumfuck, Ohio."

"Well come inside and clean up," Mercedes presses. "Being back here… I don't know, it's too soon."

I stand and help Brittany to her feet, looking around at the Motta Mansion, covered in snow, and a heavy feeling settles over me. It is too soon- too soon since the war ended. It hasn't even been a year yet, and the ongoing clean-up project and the aftermath is still a very real thing for us. I'd been doing all right for myself; I'd been on more talk shows than I even knew existed, and in such a short time, everyone knew our names. It was still completely unreal, and sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up and be back down in the Batcave, listening to Sam prepare us for some insane mission that none of us were ready for.

I look at Quinn, and at Mercedes, and think about how hard it's been for them to adjust. I think about how hard it's been for me to adjust, and then realize-

It shouldn't be.

I have everything I've ever wanted- money, fame…

Brittany.

I smile a little and stare at Brittany, who's fixing her fuzzy hat. She stops when she catches me looking at her, and I reach up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, cupping her face. Her blue eyes sparkle at me, the same way they've done for over a year. Behind her, I catch sight of the snow-sculptures she made- she's actually really good at it- and smile wider. An Andalite, a cheetah, and something that looks like a winged lion all stand in various places in the yard.

"Whenever you two are ready," Quinn calls impatiently.

I sigh. Brittany smiles. She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it. Then she presses a warm kiss to my cheek, and silently, we make our way up to the Mansion, which is decorated, in true over-the-top Sugar fashion, for Christmas.

Christmas last year was spent underground in Sugar's creepy zombie apocalypse shelter. We'd had no presents, no Christmas tree, no nothing. I don't even remember if we realized when Christmas was. We had too many other things to worry about, too many other missions to plan. Time seemed to disappear down there, so far underground, so detached from the rest of the world. Night and day were the same thing. So Christmas? Christmas didn't exist. There was no magic, no holiday spirit. It had been lost in the darkness.

God, that sounds so lame; but seriously, sometimes I worry that it will always be lost. That we'll never be able to enjoy holidays again or adjust to life after the war. That we will always have the shadow of what we've been through following us in our day-to-day lives. I can't count the number of times I've had to relive what we've been through for interviewers, talk shows, radio shows, tv specials, documentaries… And I know there are even more to come. I've been okay so far, but we haven't really had to deal with any huge holidays yet. I have no idea if I have any Christmas spirit in me.

Thanksgiving had been all right, but like everything else lately, it felt unreal. Brittany and I had eaten dinner with my parents, who'd just moved to their new mansion, and it had been- okay. But because of the new house, and the sudden overabundance of money that I have, it hadn't felt like those old familiar Thanksgivings. It felt like Thanksgiving with strangers, just- really, really nice ones.

Would Christmas feel the same?

I look around again at the somber faces of my friends- Quinn, Mercedes, and Sam, who's sitting in a recliner staring into the distance- and frown. They've all been working tirelessly since the war ended, too. We're all tired of recounting the nightmares, the missions, the close calls, the casualties. We're all burned out.

But then I look at Brittany, who's standing by the fireplace, admiring the stocking large enough to fit an actual person inside of it hanging from the mantle, and feel a little twinge of sadness. She's been through more than any of us. I want so badly for her to enjoy the holidays, to experience the joy of Christmas- and then a thought hits me; it's Brittany's first Christmas on Earth, without the plague of the Yeerks and the war hanging over her. It's her first Christmas, period, because Andalites certainly don't celebrate the birth of baby J. (The missionaries haven't made it to space- yet.)

Brittany's never had a Christmas.

And I suddenly feel like my Christmas spirit might be alive again.

After dinner with the rest of the group (we all lead exceptionally busy lives, but we made a promise to meet up every three months at least) Brittany and I load up into her Audi to make the long drive back to our own mansion. I'd bought Brittany an Audi for her birthday- well, the human birthday listed on her fake birth certificate- and we didn't ever use anything else for travel. Even though the road is long, I prefer Brittany's company in a luxury vehicle over being cramped into a plane with a bunch of rude, screaming morons, relying on someone else to get us to our destination on their own time.

It's quiet on the drive home, but Brittany has the satellite Holiday station on low, and her endearingly off-key humming helps contribute to my thoughts of giving Brittany a real Christmas. The first thing I need to do when we get home is to meet with my agent and inform her that I'm not going to be working for the next two months. The second thing I need to do is take Brittany shopping, because we are going to decorate the house for Christmas.

I must have fallen asleep with my thoughts on the drive, because when I wake up, I'm in Brittany's arms, and she's carrying me into our bedroom. She sets me down gently on the bed and carefully begins to remove my shoes, and I rub my eyes, feeling guilty that she had to drive the whole way by herself.

"Britt," I mumble, still groggy from sleep, but she just squeezes my ankle as she unlaces my boots, and I sigh at how perfect and caring she is. I help her by taking off my coat and shirt, and once we're undressed, we crawl under the covers together. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her warm body, and I sigh at the feeling of her soft skin, tucking my head under her chin and pressing myself as close to her as possible.

"I love you," I tell her, kissing her bare shoulder. She squeezes me in answer and kisses the top of my head.

"I love you, too."

"And I'm going to give you a real Christmas." I close my eyes and smile, my plans to make Brittany's first Christmas memorable surfacing in my brain for a moment as I begin to slip off to sleep.

This is going to be the best Christmas ever. I've just got to tell my agent I'm not doing any Christmas specials.

"What do you mean you're not doing any Christmas specials!?" my agent demands.

Obviously, she's not taking it well.

"Look, I've been working my ass off since the war ended-"

"-So have I-"

"And I haven't really gotten to spend any time with my wife," I snap, ignoring her interruption. "The holidays are approaching, and I think my demand to have some time off to spend with my family is more than fair."

She tried to argue, of course. Said she'd had all kinds of heartwarming specials lined up, about how the Heroes of Earth were spending their first Christmas free of the war, and how tortured and changed we all are, and other sob-story garbage like that. But I'd already decided I didn't want the war hanging over my first real Christmas with Brittany, and doing any of those specials would be a reminder that we aren't actually free of it.

I drive home, feeling proud of myself for saying no, but also annoyed that my agent didn't even consult me about taking over my holidays- like, I have a life, you know- and had already signed me up for specials. Maybe it's time to get a new agent.

I park the car. It's freezing out, but the weatherman said it won't snow this week.

Probably.

I make my way inside the warm house, and I'm immediately smacked in the face with the smell of something awesome. I can hear holiday music playing, and I feel my heart pounding with affection as I make my way into the kitchen. The sight that greets me makes me feel overwhelmed with adoration and my knees feel a little weak, so I lean against the doorframe.

Brittany's baking.

With my mother.

I watch Brittany giggle and smile a little. She's covered in different colors of frosting. A smear of red is on her cheek, a drop of green on the side of her nose where she must've scratched it. She's bent over the counter of the kitchen island, her brow furrowed in concentration, and my mother stands next to her, giving her instructions and encouragement.

Brittany looks up and her sparkling eyes catch mine, and my knees go even weaker. "San, look!" she says proudly, gesturing to a plate beside her. I tug my scarf away from my neck and move closer, and when I reach the plate of cookies, I see they're in all kinds of fun holiday shapes- wreaths, Christmas trees, reindeer- but the colors on them are funky.

"Try one," my mother urges, and I obediently pick up a purple-colored bell and bite into it. I'm not disappointed. It's probably the best cookie I've ever tasted.

"Wow," I say, taking another bite. It's sweet, with a hint of vanilla, but not overpowering. I'm impressed. "Britt, these cookies are genius."

"You've got quite a talented baker on your hands, Mija!" My mother says with a grin, and Brittany beams, the most adorable blush coloring her already multi-colored cheeks. Brittany had taken an interest in cooking lately, and most of her adventures turned out to be delicious and successful, but I can't remember her ever attempting to bake before.

I eat the last bite of the cookie. If that's the result of her baking, then she definitely needs to do it more often. I smile fondly at Brittany, who's still holding my gaze, and reach up to wipe some of the frosting from her nose. She scrunches her face up and I laugh, feeling a million different things- lucky, warm, in love. I glance around the kitchen, and find it decorated for the holiday, with red-and-green kitchen towels, holiday candles, little Christmas-y figurines- it looks like it came straight out of a Martha Stewart catalog. I eye my mother- maybe it did.

"It was too plain in here, Santana," my mother scolds. "You needed a little cheer. It's already December. What's wrong with you?"

I nod, wincing. "I've been really busy working lately But we do need some cheer, Mami. In fact," I start, making sure I have both their attentions, "I'm taking Brittany shopping tomorrow for Christmas lights."

"You are?" Brittany asks, her smile practically splitting her face at the thought of getting to spend time with me. Her enthusiasm reminds me of a little kid's, and my heart hurts a little with guilt. I have been working a lot lately, and I haven't exactly gotten to spend a lot of time with her.

"What about work?" My mother asks, narrowing her eyes, but she's smiling. Both my parents adore Brittany, and they have ever since they'd met her. After the war, I had to tell them she was an alien and that we were married- that was awkward as fuck- but once they'd gotten to see how absolutely perfect she is, they'd fallen for her charm and charisma. It also didn't hurt that she makes me happier than I've ever been in my entire life.

"I told my agent I'm not working for the next two months," I say casually with a shrug.

Brittany stops and looks at me, her expression unreadable. "You're not?"

I reach for her hand and squeeze it, shaking my head. "Nope. I'm spending the next two months celebrating the holidays with the woman I love."

"Awww," My mother coos, and I roll my eyes. "Santana, it's about time you focus on the things that are really important."

I take a deep breath, feeling my cheeks burn. "Yes, Mami, I know. Don't you have to be getting home?"

"No," My mother says cheekily. I shoot her a glare and she laughs. "But I suppose I'll get going and leave you kids alone." She picks up a plate wrapped in tinfoil. "Your Papi is going to love these cookies. Santana, you've been hiding Brittany away!"

My glare melts into a soft smile, especially when Brittany and my mother hug and my mother plants a big kiss on Brittany's cheek, still raving about what a great baker she is. It makes my heart ache in the best way, and I'm so thankful to have such an awesome family. My parents had taken it well when I told them at Thanksgiving that Brittany and I were going to spend Christmas at home. My father had placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"You're an adult, Santana," he'd said. "You've dealt with far more than we have ever had to deal with. You've made life-or-death decisions for months; you can make your own decisions about Christmas. You have a family now and a life of your own."

"Thanks, Papi," I'd said as he'd pulled me into a hug.

"[Just don't forget about your parents, okay?]" he'd told me, and I promised we'd have dinner with them the day after Christmas. It's not like I wouldn't see them- they lived in the next town over from us. My mother was over all the time, taking Brittany shopping, going to lunch, getting their nails done, you know, all the stuff she used to do with me that I was now too busy for, but I didn't resent it.

Truthfully, I've never been so happy.

And now, with two months off to spend with my wife, I was about to be even happier.

"Fucking fuck this goddamn cocksucking piece of shit-"

I never knew how frustrating putting up Christmas lights actually is. I mean, I'd watched my father put them up every year, heard him curse and swear, but I thought he was just being dramatic.

Boy, was I wrong.

"Why does everything need its own damn extension cord?" I growl, wrestling with a reindeer made completely out of white lights. Earlier, I'd taken Brittany shopping, and she had wanted nearly everything in the store.

And since I always want to give Brittany everything that she wants, I bought one of nearly everything in the store.

We had to get the boxes delivered, because I obviously couldn't fit them all in the Audi. But what I neglected to realize is that once we got all of the blow-up penguins wearing Christmas hats, reindeer, Santas, and candy canes home, we had to set them all up.

I wish I'd thought this through better.

Brittany had a vision- of course- of where she wanted everything, but fuck man, trying to untangle and run everything together was really, really frustrating.

"Need a hand?" Blaine asks me gently from the foot of my ladder as I continue to curse at the string of icicle lights I'm currently struggling to connect to the ones already in place on the house.

"Why are you here?" I grump, glaring at the good two inches of space keeping the two cords I need to connect from connecting. Maybe if I throw them across the yard -

"We came by to see the house," Kurt offers, picking up the box of roof clips and beginning to hook them to the lights. "We didn't know it wasn't even decorated yet. You know Christmas is next week, right?"

I open my mouth to say something scathing, and Blaine cuts me off. "You certainly have a lot to do. We'd love to help."

"What do you know about Christmas lights?" I snap, glaring at the lights in my hand which have now tangled. I huff angrily.

"I used to help my dad all the time," Blaine says, untangling the lights with ease.

"Weren't you blind?"

Blaine's expression softens further. "The Christmas before last, yes. I was." He hands me a clip, and I wordlessly snap the lights to the roof, feeling like a bitch for bringing up Blaine's disability. He's trying to help me- and let's face it, I obviously need all the help I can get- and I'm treating him like shit.

I sigh. "Look- I'm so-"

"It's okay," Blaine cuts me off, smiling. "If it weren't for you and the others, I'd still be blind." He looks at Kurt. "And I might not have ever met Kurt." He shrugs, and I climb down the ladder, ready to move it another foot to the right. "So, I don't know; it sucks that the war happened and everything, but- I'm grateful that it did, and that I'm alive."

I nod, staring out across the lawn and watching as Brittany digs out a huge blow-up reindeer; I smile. "I know what you mean."

"You know, Satan," Kurt starts. "I paid a company to come in and put up my lights."

"That takes all the fun out of it," Blaine teases, giving Kurt a playful shove.

"Oh, yeah- fun is exactly what I'm having," I grumble, climbing back up the ladder and wishing I'd thought of hiring someone to do this shit for me. Sometimes I forget that I'm disgustingly rich…. Definitely doing that next year, though. "Hand me that strand, would you?"

We continue putting up lights, and eventually, the house, bushes, trees and mailbox all have lights covering them, and it doesn't look half bad. Lighted candy canes line the driveway, and the last thing left is to assemble the metal, lighted outline of Santa to put on the roof. Once I got some direction and assistance, putting up the lights actually wasn't too bad, and it started to actually feel like the season. Every time we switched something else on to check it was working, Brittany's smile made my heart melt. It went by quicker than I expected, and soon we were ready to start assembling Santa. While we worked, Blaine told me of his ingenious (his word, not mine) plan to write and produce (and probably star in) Transformers: The Musical.

"Think about it," he said, lining up the sleigh with the reins of the first reindeer. "We have documentaries and specials and Arty's making a movie; why shouldn't there be a musical? It could tell of our triumphs and victories-"

"Of which there were very few," I mumble.

"-and be a positive contribution to all the sad, depressing features that are already out there."

"I think that's great," Brittany says monotonously as she snaps together two reindeer.

"Honey, don't encourage him," I say, touching Brittany's arm. She giggles; I grin.

"I'm just saying, it would be pretty awesome," Blaine finishes. "I'm going to do it. I think it'll be a big success."

"Well if it happens, I'll go see it, if only to sit in the front row so I can throw rotten fruit at you and boo."

"Very funny, Santana," Blaine says good-naturedly.

"I certainly thought so," Brittany agrees, and this time it's my turn to giggle. She squeezes my thigh and Kurt rolls his eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, we're all frustrated.

"That piece doesn't go there!" I snap to Kurt.

"I'm sorry, but it looks just like the one in the picture."

"No that's this one" I argue, holding up a piece that admittedly looks the exact same.

"Guys, I really don't think it matters, they might be interchangeable," Blaine reasons.

I sigh, tossing the piece down. "Whatever. You can figure it out. I don't have the patience for this." I stand, brushing off the front of my jeans. "Britt, I'm gonna finish blowing up that huge snowman."

Brittany nods, and I walk down to the snowman, which looks like a big white puddle of plastic on our lawn. I plug in the inflator and monitor the tacky thing as it slowly fills. I look around at the tons and tons of lights, displays, blow-up Santas, and huge metal framework Blaine, Kurt and Brittany are still assembling, and sigh. The other houses on our street have very tasteful, minimal lights, mostly all white, and nothing on the lawn.

I shake my head with a smile. Brittany and I are officially those people.

Once Frosty is full and wobbling in the breeze, I walk back up the driveway to the others. Blaine's on the roof attaching Santa and his sleigh, and Brittany's on the ladder holding the cords. I smile at her excitement as Kurt passes up nine- yes, we went there- lighted reindeer.

"Well, Santa's definitely going to know to stop here," Kurt jokes. Blaine nods in agreement as he attaches Prances, or whoever the first deer is, to the sleigh, and Brittany pauses.

"Who's Santa?" she asks. She looks at me. "At first I thought it was a new nickname for you that I didn't know about, but the box says it, too, doesn't it?" She looks unsure. "Everyone keeps talking about him. Who is he?"

Kurt and Blaine both look baffled about what to say, casting each other and me helpless looks. I stare at the sleigh with Santa Claus in it.

And that's when I get an idea.

8)

Okay so the next part should be up within the next two days, I hope. It'll be super fluffy (and smutty, ofc.)

Review if you feel like it, but if you don't, then that's okay.

See you next time, pals!