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Stay
by Spikedluv
Part two
Spike saw Xander a couple times a week for the next month. By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned their new relationship to any of Xander’s friends. Spike remained silent because he knew Buffy would stake him, automatically assuming that he’d corrupted her White Knight. Spike sometimes wished he could take full credit for Xander’s new proclivities, if only because he was the Big Bad. Plus, when Buffy staked him he wanted to be guilty as charged. How embarrassing, to be staked by the Slayer when he hadn’t even done what she accused him of.
He wasn’t altogether sure why Xander didn’t want to say anything, waffling between certainty that Xander didn’t want to see Spike staked either, and shame that he was taking it up the ass from the evil undead.
At least Spike could take comfort in the fact that he’d turned Xander into the perfect slut. The boy would do anything Spike asked him to as long as he had Spike in his ass before the night was over. Despite his misgivings, Xander had even let Spike tie him up one night, and Spike had had to gag him to keep him from drawing unwanted attention from other denizens of the night after he screamed out his second orgasm and continued to beg Spike for more.
On occasion, Spike would have to pull Xander behind a convenient crypt or tree during patrol, before the overwhelming scent of his arousal drew every demon on the Hellmouth to them. He figured he was doing Xander a favor, saving him from some big ugly beastie by allowing him to suck Spike off while he jerked himself off.
The sex was good. Great. Okay, bloody amazing. And Xander was a quick learner and an eager participant in their romps. On occasion he showed up at the crypt, blushing and smelling delicious, a new toy hidden in a brown paper bag.
Spike was surprised the day when, about a month into their illicit affair, Xander showed up and pulled a DVD player and two DVDs out of the paper sack.
“What’s that?” Spike asked.
“DVD player,” Xander replied. “And DVDs,” he added absently, already absorbed with opening the small box and pulling out the player, cords, and instructions.
“Um, yeah, I can see that,” Spike drawled. “Why?”
Xander flushed, and replied without looking up at Spike. “I thought maybe we could watch a movie sometime, you know, do something diff—.”
“You gettin’ bored with what we usually do?” Spike snarked as the erection he’d sported in anticipation of a hot and horny boy deflated.
Xander’s heartbeat sped up. “No. I just thought....” He shrugged. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” He started to box the DVD player back up, still not looking at Spike.
Spike rolled his eyes. He could tell that he’d hurt Xander’s feelings, and tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t be concerned, but, to his dismay, he’d actually grown to care for the boy in the time they’d spent together. He dropped down into his chair with a deep sigh. “You brought it, might as well hook it up.”
Spike could feel Xander’s eyes on him as he intently studied his finger nails. “Really?” he asked.
“Said so, didn’t I?” Spike retorted, making sure to keep his tone bored.
While Xander went about unpacking the DVD player again, Spike pulled the DVDs over and examined them. A spy-thriller and a vampire drama. “What’s this?” he asked, holding the vampire movie up and waving it at Xander.
“A comedy?” Xander replied without looking over, but Spike could hear the humor in his voice.
“Right.”
Xander had pulled the television away from the wall and was kneeling beside it, hooking up the cords to the back of the tv and the DVD player, his teeth worrying his lower lip. Spike’s eyes glazed as he imagined Xander kneeling before him, swollen lips wrapped around his cock, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, hair falling over his forehead. He groaned as he hardened in his jeans.
“What’s wrong?” Xander asked, his head snapping up at Spike’s groan.
Spike rose and stalked him. “You ‘bout done with that?” he asked.
“Um, yeah. Why?”
“I think we’ve done enough ‘something different’ tonight,” Spike replied. He grasped the back of Xander’s head and pressed the boy’s face to his erection. Xander nuzzled Spike through his jeans. “You look so pretty on your knees.”
Xander gently bit him. “‘M not pretty,” his muffled voice reached Spike’s ears.
“You have such a pretty mouth. So warm and wet, suckin’ me so good.”
“Mmm, Spike,” Xander moaned, and Spike could smell his arousal.
“Suck me, Xander,” Spike said, and Xander eagerly released his prick, teased it with hot breath and flicks of tongue, and then took him in. Spike ran his fingers through Xander’s hair, holding his head lightly as he slowly thrust his hips until Xander had taken all of him.
Spike closed his eyes and bit his lip, struggling to keep from losing control and just fucking Xander’s mouth. When Spike opened his eyes and looked down, he saw himself sliding between Xander’s swollen lips as lust-filled eyes gazed up at him, hair fallen over Xander’s forehead. Spike moaned, stiffened, and came.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as Xander milked him dry and cleaned him off. Spike pushed Xander back onto the hard floor and knelt between his legs, pulled his cock out, and sucked him off to the lovely sounds of panting and mewling. By the time Xander came, Spike was hard again. He quickly prepared Xander and then took him hard and fast amidst the DVD packaging.
Xander began showing up more often after that; three times a week, sometimes four. The day he showed up with a clipboard, pencil, measuring tape, and rolled-up plans for the city’s sewer and water systems, Spike was confused. Once a week or so Xander would show up with another movie for them to watch, or a new toy for them to play with, but this was something new and strange.
“Kinky,” he said to hide his confusion.
Xander just gave him a look and disappeared down to the lower level. His curiosity got the better of his annoyance, so Spike followed him. He threw himself onto the bed and watched as Xander unrolled the plans, flipped through them until he found the page he wanted, then pulled out a compass and laid the plans on the floor, anchoring the corners with empty whiskey bottles.
Xander studied the plans, then pulled the tape out and measured. When he was satisfied, he pulled out a thick piece of chalk and began making markings on the floor. Spike, unable to remain silent any longer, pushed himself off the bed where he’d been pretending to relax, and stalked over to Xander.
“So, what’s all this, then?”
Xander looked up at him, blinked, pushed hair out of his eyes with the back of one hand. Spike got hard. Xander glanced at the chalk marks, and extended his hand. “Bathroom,” he said.
Spike blinked. “I don’t need a bathroom, pet,” he reminded the boy.
Xander blushed. “Well, the toilet’ll be for me, but I figured you’d like having a shower.” He gestured as he stood.
“A shower?”
Xander nodded.
“You’re gonna install a shower for me?”
Xander nodded again. “Hot water and everything...,” he began, but Spike ignored him and pushed Xander into the chalked shower outline, shoved him against the wall, tore his pants down, and fucked him.
The next time Xander visited, he brought a drill, pipes, and other items Spike had no idea what they were for. Within a week, the shower was in and Spike was thanking Xander with his mouth, the sounds of the boy’s moans and pants louder than the water pounding down on them.
After Xander came, Spike stood and turned him around, pressing him into the clear wall of the shower stall, sliding into his already stretched and well-fucked hole.
“Have I thanked you for doing this for me?” Spike whispered huskily against Xander’s shoulder.
“Might’ve,” Xander replied breathlessly, “once or...oh god!...twice.”
Spike realized that his feelings for Xander were changing. They’d been changing ever since he’d met the boy. From a seething hatred of the Slayer and everyone in her little Scooby gang, to a grudging respect fueled by fantasies, and later combined with lust and great sex, to a budding friendship. The night Xander fell asleep while they were watching a movie and Spike held him until he jerked awake, then helped him into his jacket and sent him home, Spike knew he was screwed.
Patrolling with Xander and making sure he stayed alive and healthy so Spike had a warm, willing—eager, even—body to shag was one thing, but to discover that he not only enjoyed spending time with the boy outside of shaggin’, and that he actually had feelings for him, was enough to send Spike out into the night for a nice spot of violence. After he made sure Xander made it to his car unmolested. Ponce!
The fact that he came back horny and covered in demon goo and wanked to images of Xander in the shower kept Spike up all day. He was drunk, but not drunk enough, when Xander showed up the next night. Spike hadn’t been sure Xander would come by, but since he’d fallen asleep the night before, Spike thought he might. Spike had been thinking about what he’d say, but hadn’t come up with anything. There was no way he could not say anything, because it wasn’t possible for him to function with this newfound knowledge burning in his gut.
“Spike,” Xander said, sounding worried. He was staring at Spike, and Spike wondered what he was seeing. His hair was probably sticking up, since he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times, and his eyes were probably bloodshot, if the way he was feeling was any indication.
Xander glanced down at the pile of empty bottles on one side of the chair and the growing mound of cigarette butts on the other side. “Something happen?” he asked, and Spike could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even.
Spike took a long drag off the cigarette as he looked Xander over, buying himself time. Finally he said, “Had an epiphany.”
“E-epiphany?”
“Yeah.”
When Spike didn’t elaborate, Xander said, “Gonna share?” He tried to make his tone light, but his voice cracked, and Spike could tell he was nervous but trying to hide it.
As much as Spike didn’t want to broach this topic, he wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “What is this?” he asked, brandishing the nearly empty bottle in a drunken gesture.
“This?”
“Us. You. Me. Hookin’ up a DVD player and watchin’ movies. Puttin’ in a shower.”
Xander blanched. Spike smelled the sour scent of fear, something he hadn’t smelled on Xander since after his second visit, and it made him nauseous to know he’d done that, been the cause of that, which pissed him off. What was he doing, caring about a silly human boy? He glanced up as Xander shuffled his feet.
“Want me to leave?” Xander asked. His voice quavered.
And suddenly, Spike couldn’t imagine anything he wanted less. He dropped the bottle as he pushed himself out of the chair. Xander’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said as Spike backed him into the wall. “I didn’t mean to....”
Spike leaned into Xander and rested his head on Xander’s shoulder. He was so tired of being alone, of being lonely, and, after dwelling on it all day, had pretty much adjusted himself to the fact that he’d fallen for another brown-eyed, brown-haired beauty, and that this one was human at that. “I didn’t mean to, either,” he whispered hoarsely.
That night they made love, just as hot and passionate as usual, but the difference was almost palpable. For the first time since they’d started down this path, Spike asked Xander to stay.
Since the night they’d admitted that their feelings for each other were...more...they’d only grown stronger. It took them a couple more nights together to be able to say the actual words, but Spike would never forget the wonder in Xander’s eyes that first night, when he realized that the same act that had brought them such sexual pleasure could also give them a deeper emotional connection.
Spike wasn’t sure if Xander was surprised because he felt it with Spike, or because he’d never felt it before. Spike liked to think that he was the only person Xander had ever achieved such a bond with, but figured he was only deluding himself.
Three nights after his drunken admission, Spike, in the middle of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced, cried out, “Hell, Xander, love you!”
When the haze lifted, and he realized what he’d said, Spike raised his head to look at Xander, who was staring back at him. Spike opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His brain didn’t seem to be connected, not that he knew what to say even if his mouth was working.
“Did you mean it?” Xander finally asked.
Spike swallowed hard. “Yes?”
Xander raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Um, yes.”
Xander’s lips quirked.
“You laughin’ at me?”
“No?”
“Pillock. What about you?” He glared at the smirking boy.
“What about me?”
Spike poked his fingers in Xander’s ribs.
“Spike!”
“Say it.”
“Spike, please, god...!”
“Say it, Xan.”
“Okayokayokayokay!”
Spike stopped tickling him, and Xander gasped for air.
“I....”
Spike raised his hand and wiggled his fingers threateningly.
“No, no!” Xander grabbed his hand. “I...I.... This is hard.”
“I said it,” Spike said, put out.
“You said it when you were thinking with your little brain,” Xander reminded him.
“Not so little,” Spike pouted.
Xander grinned at that. “I love you,” he said.
And Now
Spike shook the memories away and got out clean jeans and a t-shirt. It was Friday night, and Spike knew that Xander and his friends were going to be at The Bronze. They’d gotten used to having Spike show up, play a couple of games of pool, and then join them at their table.
Buffy usually rolled her eyes and gave him the cold shoulder, but she’d stopped voicing her disapproval when he and Xander made it clear, by deed rather than word, that they at least tolerated each other’s company. Buffy didn’t like it, but it made it easier to pair Xander with Spike for patrol without feeling too guilty about fobbing him off, and made one less person she had to walk home at night, so she kept quiet for the most part.
He glanced at the growing pile of dirty clothes heaped on the floor next to the dresser Xander had made for him. He hated going to the laundromat. As he climbed into the shower, Spike wondered if he could get Xander to put in a washing machine.
Showered and dressed, Spike gave his hair a final pat, wishing briefly that he could see what he looked like. He remembered vaguely what William had looked like, but he had no idea what Spike looked like. Shrugging such poncey thoughts away, Spike swung his duster over his shoulders like a piece of armor, and headed out to meet Xander.
Spike swaggered into The Bronze, knowing that Xander’s eyes would immediately be on him. Xander had told him once, after an extremely energetic rimming that took him to the edge twice before Spike let him fall over, that he watched the door until Spike came through it, and that the first glimpse of Spike always made him hard. Spike, who’d come when Xander’s ass tightened around his tongue, had gotten hard enough to fuck Xander unconscious after that revelation.
After a shot of tequila, preceded by a lick of salt while he gazed across the room at Xander from under lowered lashes, Spike sucked the slice of lime with a relish usually reserved for the bedroom, and then grabbed his beer and sauntered over to the pool tables with an extra swish of his hips. With feigned ignorance of his lover’s flush, his stampeding heartbeat, Spike greeted Raul and Ted at the tables.
As usual, they arranged for him to play the winner, and then he set his beer down on the small round table they were using. He took his duster off, hung it over the back of a chair, and stretched. He felt the air on his belly as his t-shirt lifted, heard the muffled moan he’d been listening for over the other sounds filling the club. Spike smirked, and turned to the game, pretending to give it his full attention.
Three games later Spike slipped his duster on and looked around for Xander. The boy was usually waiting for him at the table, though Xander refused to admit he was doing anything other than enjoying his friends’ company. Spike, however, could always tell by the boy’s raised body temperature and increased heart rate that he was fully aware when Spike moved to join him.
Sometimes Xander was able to keep an empty chair beside him, and other times Spike had to pull one over, but he always made sure to drag his fingers along the back of Xander’s neck when he grabbed the chair back in a pretense of needing to balance himself as he took his seat.
Tonight, however, Xander wasn’t sitting at the table. Spike, who could now easily pick his lover’s heartbeat out of the crowd, eventually zeroed in on Xander—on the dance floor. Spike raised an eyebrow as he watched Xander gyrate between Willow and Tara. He noted Buffy and Riley dancing nearby, marking the enemy’s position out of habit, and then ignored them in favor of watching Xander. The boy wasn’t paying attention to Spike, so he couldn’t resist eschewing a seat at the table for the opportunity to sneak up on him unnoticed.
Spike glided through the dancers and slid up behind Xander. He placed his hand on Xander’s lower back where it would go unnoticed by the others, and applied a gentle pressure with his thumb, a move that was normally the prelude to a long full-body massage, and which always turned Xander to mush.
He felt Xander melt into the light touch, and nodded over Xander’s shoulder to Willow, who shot him a small, uncertain smile. Suddenly, Xander tensed and jumped away from Spike. He heard the boy’s heart start pounding, and sensed his anxiety.
“Whao, fangless,” Xander greeted him in a high pitched voice. “Don’t be touching the goods, oh, undead one.” He gave a nervous laugh.
The words cut like a knife. Spike wasn’t sure why, since they weren’t much different from the words Xander usually used when they were with the other Scoobies, in order to keep their relationship a secret. The words were usually underlaid by a note of teasing, almost as if they were nicknames, or a form of flirting, and Spike accepted them in that vein. But not tonight.
Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been urging Xander to make their relationship known to his friends. Xander told Spike that he wished they didn’t have to hide their feelings for each other, but insisted that neither one of them would be able to keep Buffy from staking Spike, and her first reaction was not going to be joy that Xander was very happy in his new homosexual slash necrophilic relationship with the vampire.
Xander had always managed to tease Spike out of his funk with sweet words, tender kisses, and light touches until Spike couldn’t remember his own name, much less why he thought it was a good idea to let the Scoobies in on their little secret. But that wouldn’t work now.
Spike’s vision blurred and the sound dimmed as if he’d entered a long tunnel. All he could feel was the pain of Xander’s seeming rejection like a stake to the heart. His vision cleared and he saw Xander looking at him worriedly.
“Are you all right?” Xander asked, reaching for Spike’s arm, but Spike could barely hear him over the borrowed blood rushing through his ears. He pulled his arm back to evade Xander’s touch.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
“Um, okay,” Xander responded.
Spike ignored the curious looks the others were shooting his way, turned on his heels, and pushed his way through the couples crowding the dance floor. He heard Xander call his name, but gave no indication of it. His entire being was suffused with a hurt like none he’d ever felt, and he just needed to get out of there.
Spike pushed through the door and stepped out into the night, unaware of how he’d gotten there. He paused, looked up and down the street. He needed to do something to take his mind off Xander and how much it felt like everything was falling apart.
Xander claimed to be worried about Spike’s remaining among the undusted when Buffy found out about them, and while Spike believed that was true, he also knew that Xander’s fear of discovery was also based on shame. He’d seen it in Xander’s eyes tonight before the boy could hide it. Spike hated how much it tore him up inside.
He headed off in the direction of the old high school, knowing that he’d find a nice spot or two of violence near the Hellmouth. Before he’d gotten very far, he sensed Xander’s presence behind him.
“Spike!”
He ignored Xander and kept walking.
“Spike, wait a minute! Geez.” Xander grabbed his arm and pulled him around, then stood for a minute to catch his breath. “You left...so fast...I didn’t.... Listen, I’ll stop by later?” he asked breathlessly, looking at Spike with eyes that shone with love.
The light in Xander’s eyes only served to push Spike’s buttons, because he couldn’t understand how Xander could love him so much, and still want to deny their love when they were with his friends. Spike laughed derisively. He was only fooling himself. He knew, had certainly thought about it often enough.
Spike didn’t doubt that Xander loved him and was concerned that Buffy would stake him if she found out about them, but Xander also didn’t want his friends to find out because he was afraid of what they’d think about him for taking up with a vampire, especially Spike. Well, he knew how to take care of that.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spike finally said.
“Oh. Okay.” Xander sounded surprised, confused. “What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t think we’re a good idea,” Spike said gruffly, trying to hide the pain his own words caused him.
“Wh-what?”
Spike tilted his head so he didn’t have to look into Xander’s eyes. “This isn’t working,” he said, his tone hard, unyielding.
“Not working?” Xander repeated dumbly. “What are you talking about? We’re working just fine! Spike, what’s...why’re you...?”
“Then why are we hiding?” Spike asked, poking a finger into Xander’s chest hard enough to make the chip twinge. “If we’re working, if we’re...good...then why won’t you tell your friends about us?” he demanded.
Xander visibly deflated. “We’ve talked about that,” he said. “We agreed not to say anything to keep you from getting all dusty.”
“We did agree,” Spike growled. “We don’t agree anymore. You know I want to tell them. I don’t want to keep pretending we’re not together. I want to hold your hand,” he hissed the last word, realizing that his voice has risen. “I want to be able to touch you without having to look over my shoulder,” he continued in a more even tone.
“I want that, too,” Xander said, stepping into Spike and wrapping his fingers around Spike’s biceps. “But it’s too dangerous.”
Spike breathed the scent of him in and nearly caved. “I’m willing to risk it,” he insisted.
“I’m not!” Xander said, squeezing Spike’s arms.
Spike wanted to scream his pain into the night air. Instead he ground out, “I know you care for me, Xander....”
“I love you!”
Spike ignored the interruption and continued, “But I think you need to be honest about the reason you don’t want to tell your friends about us.”
“You know....”
“Yeah,” Spike agreed sadly, “I do.”
“Then what...?”
“You’re afraid of what they’ll say,” Spike said, the words pouring salt into an already open wound. “Afraid of what they’ll think about you for getting involved with a vampire. With me.”
Xander shook his head in denial. “No. Spike, no.”
“You’re ashamed of me. Of us.”
“No, Spike, that’s not true,” Xander insisted.
“Then tell them,” Spike urged, a spark of hope flaring in his heart. He touched Xander’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Xander stared into Spike’s eyes. “I can’t,” he said, his voice thick with tears.
Spike nodded once, reluctantly pulled his hand away from Xander’s face, and stepped back. “And I can’t be your dirty little secret anymore,” he said, and then turned away before Xander could see the tears gathering in his eyes. Before he changed his mind.
It had been thirteen days since Spike broke things off with Xander. The first night he’d left Xander standing on the sidewalk, Spike hadn’t been thinking about where he was going. He didn’t get far before he was confronted by a Y’l’rch demon and realized he was still headed towards the Hellmouth.
He made it back to his crypt just before the sun rose. Covered in demon goo, he’d stripped and stepped into the shower. Xander’s scent, which pervaded his home, filled his nostrils. He tried to close his mind down and not think about Xander. Once in the shower, however, the scent memory of Xander was nearly overwhelming.
Spike wasn’t completely surprised when Xander showed up the next afternoon—heart hammering anxiously—but he was still in bed since he’d gotten in so late, or early. Attuned to his lover, ex-lover, Spike listened as Xander approached the crypt and entered, blinked blearily as he climbed down the ladder.
“What do you want, Xander?” he asked dispiritedly.
“I thought we could talk,” Xander replied.
Spike’s hope that Xander might have changed his mind, decided to tell his friends about them, was dashed. He pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed, not missing Xander’s gasp and the rush of arousal at his nakedness, wishing he could take comfort in it.
“I think we said it all last night,” Spike said as he angrily shoved his legs into a pair of jeans, zipped and buttoned them.
“Spike, please.”
“Have you changed your mind?” Spike asked. Xander couldn’t look at him, didn’t reply. “Well, neither have I.” He took a deep breath to center himself. “Go home, Xander,” he said softly, sadly.
Spike needed to get away, couldn’t take having Xander so close knowing he didn’t really have him at all. He skirted Xander and moved over to the ladder. “Since you’re here, maybe you should pack up your stuff,” he suggested, forcing a casual tone that was far from what he felt.
He climbed up the ladder before the nearly overpowering misery pouring off Xander made him pull the boy into his arms and forget about the misery he felt at Xander’s denial of him. Of them. Xander left silently, taking nothing with him. Spike, unable to wait until the sun set, got dressed and headed for the sewers so he could drown his sorrows.
Spike didn’t see Xander until Wednesday, when he was called upon to help the Slayer and her rag tag bunch of pals put an end to a Lumox demon that was using the city’s feline population for dinner. Spike had rolled his eyes at the use of resources on a demon that was afraid of humans, but Willow had summed up the feelings of the Scoobies when she’d looked at Spike, horrified, and wailed, “Kitties!”
As usual, he was paired with Xander. They didn’t speak. Not that Xander didn’t try, but once Spike made it clear he had no intention of indulging in ‘small talk’ and had no interest in listening to Xander jabber on, Xander remained silent. The demon was ridiculously easy to find, though not that easy to eliminate, since Buffy had failed to notice that instead of one demon, there was a pack of six roaming the streets of Sunnydale.
The increase in numbers made the Lumox less fearful, and they stood their ground when confronted by Spike and Xander. The demons lost their bravery when Buffy and Riley showed up from one direction, and Giles, Willow, and Tara from another. Despite their numbers, the battle was one-sided and short-lived. Once the six demon corpses lay fermenting on the pavement—Spike had taken great joy in telling Buffy he had no idea that the demons released such a foul-smelling gas when they expired—he checked to make sure that Xander was all right, and then melted into the shadows.
By Friday he’d worked himself into a tizzy and refused to let Xander keep him from enjoying his weekly game of pool with the guys. Spike showered and dressed for The Bronze, and if he took care to make sure he wore the dark blue Henley that Xander said made his eyes look deep enough to get lost in, who was gonna tell?
The night was pure hell as he and Xander both pretended to ignore the other. Spike feigned disinterest when he noticed that Xander was wearing Spike’s favorite shirt, and took his pain out on the pool table. He drank more beer than was good for him, and made note of the overly-made up woman who was stuffed into her dress and flirting with him. Five games later, Spike shoved his winnings into his pocket, raised an eyebrow at the woman who was, against all odds, still standing, and headed to the dance floor with her.
Spike made sure Xander saw them, and then made sure that Xander was the first one to leave. As soon as he confirmed that the Scoobies had vacated the premises, he left the woman standing alone on the dance floor, grabbed his duster, and then set out to find something to kill. He spent the weekend alternating between binge drinking and violence.
By the time Thursday rolled around, he was going stir-crazy—he hadn’t spent so many nights alone in months—and decided to check out the action at The Bronze. He rolled off the bed and stuffed his feet into his boots, only checking to make sure he didn’t have blood stains on his shirts before he flung his duster over his shoulders and took off. Only when he was walking down the sidewalk outside the club did he remember to run his fingers through his hair.
The Bronze was much quieter on a Thursday night, despite the sign advertising ‘Ladies Night’, and Spike had no problem bellying up to the bar and ordering his drinks, and then finding an empty pool table. He rolled the sleeves of the flannel shirt he wore over his t-shirt up and shot alone for nearly an hour before he was approached by a sandy-haired man who asked if Spike wanted to play a game. Spike took his shot before acknowledging the other man, and then stood up slowly and raked his eyes up his body.
“Sure,” he said, figuring he could take the guy.
“Great! My name’s Rob,” Rob said. He pulled out a handful of quarters. “Want me to rack?”
Spike stepped back and held his hand out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture, then leaned on his stick and finished his beer while Rob racked the balls. Rob smiled when the balls had been racked and gave Spike room to break.
Before Spike made the shot, Rob leaned close and asked, “What do you want to play for?”
Spike didn’t let the surprise he felt when he recognized Xander’s heartbeat show, and slowly straightened, taking a step towards Rob. “What do you have in mind?” he asked. Rob wasn’t his type, he had a thing for brunettes, but neither Rob nor Xander knew that.
Rob smiled, like an eager little puppy, and ran one finger up Spike’s arm. “How about winner’s choice?” he suggested huskily.
Spike had no intention of losing, so he said, “Deal.”
Rob smiled as if he’d just won the lottery, and Spike could feel Xander’s eyes burning into him. They played three games, and Spike won all three. Rob didn’t seem to care, since he thought Spike was a sure thing. After Spike dropped the eight ball, Rob moved into Spike’s personal space and pressed his chest against Spike’s arm.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his voice holding a lot of promise.
Spike had turned towards Rob, intending to tell him to sod off, when hurricane Xander appeared, shoving his way into the tiny space between the two men. He placed both hands palm-flat against Rob’s chest and shoved him back a few steps.
“Get lost,” he snarled. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s mine.” Xander turned to Spike and pushed him back against the pool table. “You’re mine.”
“Hey, buddy,” Rob interrupted, unwilling to give up so easily.
Xander closed his fingers around the back of Spike’s neck and kneaded. Spike couldn’t help arching into the touch as he watched Xander slowly turn his head until he was glaring at Rob. “Take. A hike.”
Rob looked between Xander and Spike and must have realized that his sure thing wasn’t so sure anymore. “Fuck,” he swore, and then took off.
Xander turned his glare back onto Spike. Despite his response to Xander’s touch, Spike said, “I think you’re forgettin’ somethin’, pet.”
“Shut up, Spike,” Xander ground out before using his hold on Spike to pull him into a kiss.
Kiss? Spike thought. This wasn’t a kiss. Xander attacked his mouth like a starving man at a banquet. Spike shifted against the table, and Xander, assuming Spike was trying to get away, spread his legs to either side of Spike’s and pressed more tightly against him. The hand not on Spike’s neck went around his back and his fingers fisted in the flannel.
Someone whimpered, and Spike thought it might have been him. He dropped the cue stick and both arms went around Xander as he kissed the boy back. Xander pulled back, breathing hard. Spike’s eyes were drawn to Xander’s wet and swollen lips, and then back up to eyes that looked nearly as dazed as he felt.
The cacophony around them resolved itself into Buffy yelling, “Xander! What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
Spike stiffened in Xander’s hold and made his face go blank. Xander might have been pushed to the edge by Rob’s flirting, but that didn’t mean he was ready to tell his friends about them. He waited for Xander to let go and step away from him, but Xander didn’t release his hold, nor did he look away.
“I,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, “am kissing my boyfriend.”
“You’re whating your who?”
Spike swallowed hard, then again. There was no way he was going to act like a poof in front of the Slayer. “Xander.”
Xander’s hand was still on Spike’s neck, and he began kneading again, this time a gesture of comfort. “And I’m going to kiss him again, because I’ve really missed kissing him.”
“Xander.” Spike knew that there would come a time when he could do more than breathe Xander’s name, but he didn’t know when that would be.
“I don’t think so!” Buffy growled, then huffed when both men ignored her.
“Spike, I’m sorry....”
Spike cut off Xander’s apology with a kiss.
“What in hell is going on here?” Buffy threw her hands up.
“Something freakishly Hellmouthy,” Willow submitted.
“Xander and Spike appear to be kissing,” Tara offered helpfully.
“Thanks,” Buffy said.
Xander broke their kiss and turned his attention to Buffy. “Spike and I are together,” he began defensively, then quickly turned back to Spike. “We’re still together, right?” he asked worriedly.
Spike nodded. “Yes,” he croaked.
Xander smiled, and ran his hands down Spike’s chest. His smile faltered. “Is this my shirt?” he asked.
Spike was saved from having to answer by Buffy’s annoyed, “Xander!”
“Oh, right, sorry. Look, Spike and I are together. We have been for a while. There will be no discussion. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”
“Xander, you....” Willow began, a surprised look on her face.
“No,” Xander said softly, “no discussion, that’s it.” He turned to Spike. “That’s it, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed sappily.
“Cool,” Xander said, grinning. “Can we go home now? I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too, Xan,” Spike admitted.
Xander threw his arms around Spike’s neck and hugged him tight. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, pet,” Spike said, wondering when he’d become susceptible to allergies.
Xander rested his forehead on Spike’s and just looked into his eyes, oblivious to the irate Slayer and confused witches. “Your place?”
“Anywhere,” Spike said.
Xander smiled shyly. “And then, you know, maybe I could stay?”The End
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