Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any profit from writing about them. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Sometimes Willow doesn't know when to shut up and enjoy a romantic moment.

"Look, baby, Mistletoe." Tara said with a smile as she pointed to the sprig of the popular plant hanging between doorways in the Summers' house. She tightened her grip on the redhead's hand, hoping for a little bit of romance while the others were busy in the kitchen.

Willow glanced up at the plant, completely missing the dreamy look on her girlfriends face.

"There are some pretty interesting stories and legends surrounding mistletoe," Willow began as she studied the small sprig with intense interest. "One legend has it that the wood of the cross of Jesus Christ was made from mistletoe, and supposedly for that reason it has been doomed to live as a parasite. It's classified that way even today, condemned to live on the goodwill of other trees. There's this other legend about the Druids. They used to . . ."

Her words trailed off as she turned to meet Tara's gaze and found an amused look on her face.

" . . . umm, I guess that parasitic plants and Druids aren't exactly what you were expecting," Willow finished, suddenly looking quite sheepish.

Tara nodded.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," she said softly, pulling the redhead a little closer to her body.

"Can I try again?" Willow asked with a nervous smile.

"I was hoping you might," Tara teased.

Willow's smile grew as she pulled Tara's body closer to her, their faces only inches apart.

"Happy holidays, baby," she breathed as she closed the distance between them and placed the gentlest of kisses on Tara's soft lips.