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The pimp first, of course. It's lovely, dark, strange and beautiful. Angel, Xander, Angel/Xander, Xander/Connor...Oz...some Spike, a smidge of Gunn. You must, must, must read. Twisty, angsty, funny, emotional and wonderful. Satori(Kick in the Eye) by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glossing.
You won't be sorry.
And we're in season five on Angel - at long last! Everyone all bummed out over Jasmine - Connor just...so damn alone... Fred kickin' ass and Wes all clever with the demon from Jasmine's old dimension... Lovely stuff. And of course, Spike, who has already managed to make me laugh and take the piss out of Angel, which is all good. :)
*bounce*
Thank you thank you toreremouse, as always.
Previous parts here.
'Under the Mountain'
Spot and Jerome were ecstatic to see Xander when he got home, although he was pretty sure they were happier about the box of fruit-filled croissants he was carrying. They knew they'd get bites of the buttery pastry. But they danced around his feet, talked a mile a minute and crawled up into his lap the moment he sat down, sniffing him over suspiciously. Mouths open as they drew in what Xander was sure was a heady brew of Spike-scents. He had his own Spike-scent - the mint-and-clove soap that had lain like a crookedly-cut chunk of darkly swirled marble in the tray on the edge of the tub.
Thick, rich scent of the soap filling his nostrils as he'd washed, a shaft of bronze-green light turning tub and drape and pale-honey walls into an undersea grotto. Spike lying over the acre of disordered sheets on the bed, one leg drawn up and his hair half over his eyes - enticing shadow between thigh and sand-colored cotton and Xander hadn't resisted. Had kissed his way slowly from tailbone to the nape of Spike's neck and watched with amusement as Spike's hands curled, cat-like, into the pillows. His own hair lying damp over his neck, water still beaded on his shoulders. Nine in the morning and Xander was pretty sure Spike wasn't gonna wake up anytime soon. So he'd left a note.
"Did you guys miss me? Spot, don't be greedy." Xander fed a bite to Jerome and then took his own bite, cherries and cream cheese, and reached for his juice. Winced ever so slightly as his knee banged the table leg.
Spike's mouth just there - tongue curling into the crease behind, fingers and thumb wrapped around his shin and kneading the muscle - half-lidded eyes glancing up and Spike's lips and teeth drawing the blood up, making a mark. Like the ones blooming bruise-blue and plum on Spike's collarbones. Love-bites, they were called, but Xander thought love was a bit presumptuous at this point. Lust-bites worked. Drowning-in-musk-and-smoke, skin-like-cream-and-honey bites, and Xander couldn't...get enough. Felt like he was starving.
Breakfast finished, apartment tidied and the kittens - nearly cats, really - dozing in cream and seal-brown circles on the couch. Xander moved restlessly from window to window, watching high, thin clouds thicken and curdle, the morning slowly graying toward a stormy afternoon. He had paperwork to do - an email from Willow and one from Dawn to reply to. Or he could go over to the job site and do some work. Raif didn't care what hours he kept, although Xander usually stuck to a schedule. But - he couldn't settle. Didn't want to settle. He wanted... Xander flopped into his recliner and tipped it back - stared up at the ceiling.
"It was so weird meeting Angel's son."
"Yeah. Bloody right it was weird. He was a right little bastard, too, but he could fight. When I got there they'd just sprung that dark Slayer -"
"Faith."
"Yeah, her. They'd just sprung her from jail. Some kind of big to-do going down and they'd loosed Angelus, of all things. Needed her to help bring him back to heel." Spike blew a plume of smoke up toward the canopy of the bed. "I was pretty much bats in the belfry right then, don't remember much of what they were doing. I do remember thinking that Angelus would know how to get rid of the soul, though." Spike stubbed out his cigarette and rolled onto his side, his head propped on his fist, hips draped haphazardly by a corner of the sheet. Xander reached out and pressed his thumb lightly into the hollow under Spike's hip-bone where a bruise smudged the milky skin. Spike's eyes went hot and dark.
Xander shuddered slightly. He wasn't into rough stuff, but his mouth on Spike's skin... The marks had come up so easily. So perfectly. And faded by the time Xander had left. *Just have to make more. Whoa. That's...assuming a lot.* Xander closed his eye - put his hands behind his head and thought about that. Yeah - he wanted a next time. But he had no clue if Spike did. *Maybe I should ask. Jesus. I hate asking.* It was too much like junior high and those papers, 'Do you like me? Chose one: yes, no, maybe...' Humiliation lurking in the shadows and Xander didn't do humiliation anymore. Not by choice.
"Heard Faith was the one wore the amulet. Saved the day an' all," Spike murmured, his head thrown back and his fingers tangled in Xander's hair as Xander made a slow and thorough exploration of Spike's chest and stomach - of the other, unmarked hip.
"Yup. Channeled the sun, burned up all the uber-vamps,, brought down the house. Then we got outta Dodge and headed down your way. Angel never said you'd been there."
"He wouldn't, would he? Christ, Xander, do that again -" Xander lifted his head and smiled lazily - put his teeth back onto the thin skin between groin and thigh and bit down. Spike arched up, breathing in a sharp little gasp and Xander moved his mouth slowly, cheek pressed to flushed and hardening flesh, tongue plucking over the tendon that stood up taut and quivering when Spike let his thighs fall wide.
They hadn't talked about Angel again after that - who needed that kind of mood-killer? And Spike didn't seem to care much one way or the other about what had happened afterward in L.A. More heartbreak, really. Cordelia being revealed as - something else. Dying by Angel's hand much like Angel had died by Buffy's and the son, Connor, having a medium-sized break-down. Hard times that seemed to draw the L.A. team tighter together and what remained of the Sunnydale crew had left soon after, feeling like intruders into the grief and healing. Faith - had stayed. Said somebody had to keep Angel from getting too broody - somebody had to make sure Connor didn't get in on the act. Last Xander had heard they'd been in a mini-war with an evil law firm that hadn't liked Angel rejecting their recruiting spiel. Stubbornly fighting the good fight in the face of nearly impossible odds and winning, if he understood Willow correctly.
Xander felt himself dozing off and decided to go with it. He hadn't gotten that much sleep, anyway - and that thought made him grin. He wrestled the fleece throw out from under his shoulders and snuggled under it, sighing softly into sleep as the first threads of rain came whispering down out of the sky.
He woke disoriented, his arm asleep and his apartment dark. Rain was falling faster, rattling off the kitchen window and he lay still for a moment, his heart going a little too fast. Something -
Thump thump at the door and Xander groaned - fumbled the throw off and pushed with his legs, sitting the recliner up. *Who in hell is that? What time is it? Jesus.* He turned on a lamp as he stumbled toward the door - tripped over his boots and cursed as he whacked his wrist on the door knob.
"You all right in there, mate?"
*Spike? I can't believe...* Xander was frozen for a moment and then he turned the deadbolt and unlocked the door - pulled it open and stood there, staring at Spike. A Spike whose black leather coat was covered in raindrops and whose hair was plastered in curling tendrils all over his forehead and cheeks. Spike's face was wet with droplets - his lips were - and Xander wanted to know what that whiskey-lemon mouth tasted like, drowned in rain.
"You think I can come in then?" Spike asked, little smirk on his face and Xander blinked and took a step back - scrubbed his hand through his hair and realized that with Spike came the intoxicating odor of -
"You brought food?"
"I brought Salty's." Spike held up two bulging paper bags and grinned at Xander's squeak of delight. "Are we gonna eat in the hall?"
"What? Oh - oh! Hey - wait." Xander held up a hand - closed his eye and concentrated.
"What in bloody hell are you doing?"
Xander didn't open his eye. "I'm seeing if I can do the invite thing with my mind," Xander said, and there was a snort of laughter from Spike.
"Don't think so, mate."
Xander opened his eye. "Try anyway?" Spike shook his head but put one hand obligingly up, pushing the bag of food through the doorway. The barrier stopped his hand.
"Sorry, pet - you're no Professor X."
*Pet? He called me pet. What the hell does that mean?* "Guess not. C'mon in, Spike." Spike sauntered through the door and Xander shut it - turned around to find vampire and cats both stock-still. Spot and Jerome's noses were quivering frantically as they scoped out Spike, rain, outside - food. Spike was eyeing them with the look some people gave other people's children.
"Here, they're not going to crawl all over me and claw me and stuff, are they?"
"Only if you don't feed them. Spot, Jerome - you remember Spike, right?" Spot brrr'd happily, coming to wind around Spike's leg and put a paw up toward the bags, claws coming out in a hooking motion. Spike drew the bags in close to his chest. Jerome sat down, back straight and ears up, tail wrapped neatly over his paws. His best 'I'm such a good cat, reward me!' look on his face.
"They're staring at me."
"You'll get used to it. Umm - wanna give me the food and you can get your coat off? Are you wet through?"
"Tryin' to get me out of my clothes already?" Spike's attention went from the cats to Xander and Xander suddenly felt...warm. All over. He stared at Spike, who lifted an eyebrow and did this - thing. Chin down, mouth curling in a sexy little smirk - eyes going half-lidded and doing a slow, practically tangible journey from Xander's face to his feet and back. Xander felt his bare toes curling into the carpet and his heart skipping up a notch and pounding extra-fast.
"No! Or - maybe. God, Spike! It's like I'm fifteen all over again. Just - gimmie the food."
"Never thought I'd come in second to a box full of calamari."
"Ooh, you got calamari?"
"And crab cakes, and the crab with artichoke dip."
"Oh my god. I love you." Xander froze, the rolled tops of the bags in his hands, his knuckles brushing Spike's.
Spike grinned at him. "You just love me for my pomegranate molasses."
Xander blinked - grinned back. "Jesus Christ. Did you get one of everything?"
"Nah. Don't like salad."
Xander turned - nearly tripped over Spot - and headed for the kitchen. "Yeah - who needs all that green stuff when you can have ginger-lime butter and enough lobster to choke a horse?" He could hear Spike shedding his coat and boots and he put the bags on the kitchen table - went to the cabinet for plates and utensils. "Oh! I don't have any beer or anything - sorry."
"No worries, Xander. Brought my own." Xander looked over his shoulder to see Spike pulling bottles - one, two, three - out his coat pockets and he laughed.
"A vamp with a plan. I like that." Xander set two places at the table - pushed Jerome off of a chair and went to get a bottle of water for himself. "You got chowder too, right?"
"Don't be daft. Of course I did." Spike walked over to the table and Xander couldn't help noticing his worn jeans were dark with rain from mid-thigh down. And the shirt - some sort of silken button-up, dark red - clung damply to Spike's chest and shoulders.
*I'm not gonna make it through this dinner without embarrassing myself. Oh my god. Dinner. Is this a date? Am I dating William the Bloody?* "Did you ride your bike over here?"
"Nothing like a ride in the rain. You'll have to do it with me sometime," Spike said, putting the bottles down with little clinks. He pulled out a chair and sat down - reached for a bag and unrolled the top, taking out container after container of food. Xander did the same until the tabletop was covered. Fragrant chowder and pan-seared scallops - steak and crab and mussels, calamari and tuna and pasta. Spot and Jerome were in hysterical ecstasies, standing on their hind legs, claws sunk into Xander or Spike's thigh. Yowling and snatching at offered tidbits until Spot got overexcited and nipped Xander's finger.
"Okay - if you guys don't calm down, I'm locking you in the bathroom!" Xander glared at the cats who glared back. Jerome groped hopefully at the table-top, trying to hook a piece of lobster off Spike's plate and Spike growled down low in his chest. Both cats froze, tails fluffing out and ears going flat. Then they fled.
Xander stared after them, bemused. "If I'd known it was that easy -"
"You'd have invited a vampire over ages ago?" Spike finished, and Xander kicked him under the table.
"They weren't scared of you before."
"'Cause I was giving 'em my halibut. Spoilt little monsters, aren't they?"
"Well - I...oh, shut up," Xander grumped, grabbing for his water bottle and ignoring the look of amusement on Spike's face. "Just wait 'til you have your own."
"M'not a pet kinda person. At least, not that kind of pet," Spike added, giving Xander a look that was so laden with innuendo, suggestion and lust that Xander dropped his water bottle and leaned over - grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt and yanked him into a hard, butter-flavored kiss.
"Are you saying you want me to scratch your tummy?" he joked breathlessly.
"Sayin' I want to see if I can make you scream this time," Spike muttered and pulled Xander out of his chair. Xander didn't realize until two minutes later - when he nearly gave Spike a piercing - that he was still clutching his fork.
"Okay, I know I've seen these before," Xander said, straddling Spike's thighs determinedly and groping beside the couch for the books he'd gotten from the library. Spike - sprawled decadently in Xander's too-large robe, the shoulders pulled down and *love* bites on his neck - lifted his head and looked around, eyebrow going up.
"You thinking about knocking me over the head with those or what?"
Xander raised the biggest book, grinning. "And dragging you back to my lair."
"Already in your lair. What's that you've got, then?"
"The Primitive Art of Africa and Rock Art of the Bushman," Xander read. He lay them both down on Spike's back and Spike hissed - scissored his legs and twisted and Xander ended up on his back, his flannel pants slipping off his hips and a naked, rampant Spike pinning his wrists to the carpet. The books lay on the floor next to them, one open to a vista of the Matobo Hills.
"Those are cold."
"I just wanted to see - I've seen that stuff before, how your tattoos look. When I was in Africa -"
"Why in bloody hell were you in Africa? You never told me."
Xander blinked up at Spike, frowning up at the deep scowl on Spike's face. "I was looking for Slayers."
Spike just stared at him for a moment and then he sighed and shifted - lay down so that his hips were socketed with Xanders, the robe spread over both of them and his hands curled under Xander's shoulders, pulling him close. His expression smoothed out - went a little distant. "There's been rumors goin' round, the last couple of years. Some big mojo - things changing. Why doesn't it surprise me you lot had something to do with it?"
"We did. Willow did. She - there was this weapon and she used it to give the Slayer power to all the potential Slayers all over the world." Xander let his hands slip under the edges of the robe and trace the line of tiny, contorted figures that marched in a twisted frieze down Spike's spine. Man-shapes in poses of agony, insect-like shapes, something that could be flames. Stick-like and uncomplicated but Xander could sense the power in them.
"Leave it to Red. You know a lot of those Slayers - they're just little girls. Fair game," Spike said softly, his nose and lips brushing slowly over Xander's collarbones.
"Yeah, I... You know, let's leave the 'What I did on my African Vacation' talk for another time, okay? It's kind of a mood killer."
"Bein' held down and tattooed by a Bushman shaman to 'quiet the demons' isn't much of a pick-me-up, either," Spike murmured.
Xander laced his fingers into Spike's hair and pulled him up for a long, hard kiss. "I think they're beautiful," he whispered.
Spike smiled down at him - traced the emptiness that had been an eye with the tip of his finger. "So're you, pet." Eventually, the books were rolled over and squashed, but neither one of them noticed.
The phone was ringing and Xander groped for it - then sat up and peered around him in frustration when he couldn't find it. *Oh. At Spike's house and my phone must be...somewhere in my bag or...on the floor? Or -*
"Lettin' in the cold," Spike grumbled, hooking an arm and a leg around Xander and pulling him back to the center of the bed. Huge bed and Xander flailed for a moment for the edge and then gave up, laughing.
"It's not cold."
"S'raining and it's cold and now you owe me," Spike huffed, curling over and around Xander - warm here and cool there, all dense muscle and slither like a giant, nacreous snake.
"I do? What, exactly, do I owe you?"
"Wake-up shag. Or - pre-nap shag, it's bloody early."
"It's - it's almost noon!"
"And you're late for work, I'll bet. Gonna be later." Spike's mouth was snakelike, too: flickering tongue and prickling fangs and Xander felt like Eve in the garden.
*No, Adam. Except the snake didn't tempt him. Did he? Was Satan gay?*
"What are you talking about?"
Xander looked up at Spike who was looking down at him with a bemused - amused - expression on his face and the smudged traces of eye-liner around his eyes. His left hand absently petted Xander's hip and his rings were chilly. Xander shivered - reached up and curled a lock of bronze-wheat-white hair around his finger.
"Just giving into temptation."
"Bloody well better," Spike murmured and slithered down.
*Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. I'll take Evil for one thousand, Alex.*
Later - around three when he'd finally untangled himself from a sated, deeply sleeping Spike - he found his phone and checked his messages. Just one, a number he didn't recognize. He pressed buttons and listened, struggling into his jeans. *Need to get some cat food - maybe some of those little treats. The boys are gonna be pissed at me for not coming home last night.* The message started to play and Xander stopped dead, his jeans halfway up his thighs and his heart starting to pound.
"Hello - Xander Harris? This is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce... I'm sure you remember me... I'm calling to tell you - well, to warn you... Angel's been rather - preoccupied - about you and - and Spike since you called and... Well, it's been rather - annoying really, and I just found out through Fred that Faith and Connor decided that they needed to come and visit so they could - uh - reassure Angel that all was well... I hope - all is well? They left sometime Tuesday I believe, so look for them early this evening, perhaps? If I'd known about this I'd have tried to stop them, or called you sooner but -"
Xander dropped his phone. "Jesus Christ. I'm getting a visit from Batmite and Xena, Warrior Princess."
For a visual, go here.
ETA:Credit for 'Batmite' goes topretties_4u who is *not* on the Connor lurve-train.
glossing.You won't be sorry.
And we're in season five on Angel - at long last! Everyone all bummed out over Jasmine - Connor just...so damn alone... Fred kickin' ass and Wes all clever with the demon from Jasmine's old dimension... Lovely stuff. And of course, Spike, who has already managed to make me laugh and take the piss out of Angel, which is all good. :)
*bounce*
Thank you thank you to
reremouse, as always.Previous parts here.
'Under the Mountain'
Spot and Jerome were ecstatic to see Xander when he got home, although he was pretty sure they were happier about the box of fruit-filled croissants he was carrying. They knew they'd get bites of the buttery pastry. But they danced around his feet, talked a mile a minute and crawled up into his lap the moment he sat down, sniffing him over suspiciously. Mouths open as they drew in what Xander was sure was a heady brew of Spike-scents. He had his own Spike-scent - the mint-and-clove soap that had lain like a crookedly-cut chunk of darkly swirled marble in the tray on the edge of the tub.
Thick, rich scent of the soap filling his nostrils as he'd washed, a shaft of bronze-green light turning tub and drape and pale-honey walls into an undersea grotto. Spike lying over the acre of disordered sheets on the bed, one leg drawn up and his hair half over his eyes - enticing shadow between thigh and sand-colored cotton and Xander hadn't resisted. Had kissed his way slowly from tailbone to the nape of Spike's neck and watched with amusement as Spike's hands curled, cat-like, into the pillows. His own hair lying damp over his neck, water still beaded on his shoulders. Nine in the morning and Xander was pretty sure Spike wasn't gonna wake up anytime soon. So he'd left a note.
"Did you guys miss me? Spot, don't be greedy." Xander fed a bite to Jerome and then took his own bite, cherries and cream cheese, and reached for his juice. Winced ever so slightly as his knee banged the table leg.
Spike's mouth just there - tongue curling into the crease behind, fingers and thumb wrapped around his shin and kneading the muscle - half-lidded eyes glancing up and Spike's lips and teeth drawing the blood up, making a mark. Like the ones blooming bruise-blue and plum on Spike's collarbones. Love-bites, they were called, but Xander thought love was a bit presumptuous at this point. Lust-bites worked. Drowning-in-musk-and-smoke, skin-like-cream-and-honey bites, and Xander couldn't...get enough. Felt like he was starving.
Breakfast finished, apartment tidied and the kittens - nearly cats, really - dozing in cream and seal-brown circles on the couch. Xander moved restlessly from window to window, watching high, thin clouds thicken and curdle, the morning slowly graying toward a stormy afternoon. He had paperwork to do - an email from Willow and one from Dawn to reply to. Or he could go over to the job site and do some work. Raif didn't care what hours he kept, although Xander usually stuck to a schedule. But - he couldn't settle. Didn't want to settle. He wanted... Xander flopped into his recliner and tipped it back - stared up at the ceiling.
"It was so weird meeting Angel's son."
"Yeah. Bloody right it was weird. He was a right little bastard, too, but he could fight. When I got there they'd just sprung that dark Slayer -"
"Faith."
"Yeah, her. They'd just sprung her from jail. Some kind of big to-do going down and they'd loosed Angelus, of all things. Needed her to help bring him back to heel." Spike blew a plume of smoke up toward the canopy of the bed. "I was pretty much bats in the belfry right then, don't remember much of what they were doing. I do remember thinking that Angelus would know how to get rid of the soul, though." Spike stubbed out his cigarette and rolled onto his side, his head propped on his fist, hips draped haphazardly by a corner of the sheet. Xander reached out and pressed his thumb lightly into the hollow under Spike's hip-bone where a bruise smudged the milky skin. Spike's eyes went hot and dark.
Xander shuddered slightly. He wasn't into rough stuff, but his mouth on Spike's skin... The marks had come up so easily. So perfectly. And faded by the time Xander had left. *Just have to make more. Whoa. That's...assuming a lot.* Xander closed his eye - put his hands behind his head and thought about that. Yeah - he wanted a next time. But he had no clue if Spike did. *Maybe I should ask. Jesus. I hate asking.* It was too much like junior high and those papers, 'Do you like me? Chose one: yes, no, maybe...' Humiliation lurking in the shadows and Xander didn't do humiliation anymore. Not by choice.
"Heard Faith was the one wore the amulet. Saved the day an' all," Spike murmured, his head thrown back and his fingers tangled in Xander's hair as Xander made a slow and thorough exploration of Spike's chest and stomach - of the other, unmarked hip.
"Yup. Channeled the sun, burned up all the uber-vamps,, brought down the house. Then we got outta Dodge and headed down your way. Angel never said you'd been there."
"He wouldn't, would he? Christ, Xander, do that again -" Xander lifted his head and smiled lazily - put his teeth back onto the thin skin between groin and thigh and bit down. Spike arched up, breathing in a sharp little gasp and Xander moved his mouth slowly, cheek pressed to flushed and hardening flesh, tongue plucking over the tendon that stood up taut and quivering when Spike let his thighs fall wide.
They hadn't talked about Angel again after that - who needed that kind of mood-killer? And Spike didn't seem to care much one way or the other about what had happened afterward in L.A. More heartbreak, really. Cordelia being revealed as - something else. Dying by Angel's hand much like Angel had died by Buffy's and the son, Connor, having a medium-sized break-down. Hard times that seemed to draw the L.A. team tighter together and what remained of the Sunnydale crew had left soon after, feeling like intruders into the grief and healing. Faith - had stayed. Said somebody had to keep Angel from getting too broody - somebody had to make sure Connor didn't get in on the act. Last Xander had heard they'd been in a mini-war with an evil law firm that hadn't liked Angel rejecting their recruiting spiel. Stubbornly fighting the good fight in the face of nearly impossible odds and winning, if he understood Willow correctly.
Xander felt himself dozing off and decided to go with it. He hadn't gotten that much sleep, anyway - and that thought made him grin. He wrestled the fleece throw out from under his shoulders and snuggled under it, sighing softly into sleep as the first threads of rain came whispering down out of the sky.
He woke disoriented, his arm asleep and his apartment dark. Rain was falling faster, rattling off the kitchen window and he lay still for a moment, his heart going a little too fast. Something -
Thump thump at the door and Xander groaned - fumbled the throw off and pushed with his legs, sitting the recliner up. *Who in hell is that? What time is it? Jesus.* He turned on a lamp as he stumbled toward the door - tripped over his boots and cursed as he whacked his wrist on the door knob.
"You all right in there, mate?"
*Spike? I can't believe...* Xander was frozen for a moment and then he turned the deadbolt and unlocked the door - pulled it open and stood there, staring at Spike. A Spike whose black leather coat was covered in raindrops and whose hair was plastered in curling tendrils all over his forehead and cheeks. Spike's face was wet with droplets - his lips were - and Xander wanted to know what that whiskey-lemon mouth tasted like, drowned in rain.
"You think I can come in then?" Spike asked, little smirk on his face and Xander blinked and took a step back - scrubbed his hand through his hair and realized that with Spike came the intoxicating odor of -
"You brought food?"
"I brought Salty's." Spike held up two bulging paper bags and grinned at Xander's squeak of delight. "Are we gonna eat in the hall?"
"What? Oh - oh! Hey - wait." Xander held up a hand - closed his eye and concentrated.
"What in bloody hell are you doing?"
Xander didn't open his eye. "I'm seeing if I can do the invite thing with my mind," Xander said, and there was a snort of laughter from Spike.
"Don't think so, mate."
Xander opened his eye. "Try anyway?" Spike shook his head but put one hand obligingly up, pushing the bag of food through the doorway. The barrier stopped his hand.
"Sorry, pet - you're no Professor X."
*Pet? He called me pet. What the hell does that mean?* "Guess not. C'mon in, Spike." Spike sauntered through the door and Xander shut it - turned around to find vampire and cats both stock-still. Spot and Jerome's noses were quivering frantically as they scoped out Spike, rain, outside - food. Spike was eyeing them with the look some people gave other people's children.
"Here, they're not going to crawl all over me and claw me and stuff, are they?"
"Only if you don't feed them. Spot, Jerome - you remember Spike, right?" Spot brrr'd happily, coming to wind around Spike's leg and put a paw up toward the bags, claws coming out in a hooking motion. Spike drew the bags in close to his chest. Jerome sat down, back straight and ears up, tail wrapped neatly over his paws. His best 'I'm such a good cat, reward me!' look on his face.
"They're staring at me."
"You'll get used to it. Umm - wanna give me the food and you can get your coat off? Are you wet through?"
"Tryin' to get me out of my clothes already?" Spike's attention went from the cats to Xander and Xander suddenly felt...warm. All over. He stared at Spike, who lifted an eyebrow and did this - thing. Chin down, mouth curling in a sexy little smirk - eyes going half-lidded and doing a slow, practically tangible journey from Xander's face to his feet and back. Xander felt his bare toes curling into the carpet and his heart skipping up a notch and pounding extra-fast.
"No! Or - maybe. God, Spike! It's like I'm fifteen all over again. Just - gimmie the food."
"Never thought I'd come in second to a box full of calamari."
"Ooh, you got calamari?"
"And crab cakes, and the crab with artichoke dip."
"Oh my god. I love you." Xander froze, the rolled tops of the bags in his hands, his knuckles brushing Spike's.
Spike grinned at him. "You just love me for my pomegranate molasses."
Xander blinked - grinned back. "Jesus Christ. Did you get one of everything?"
"Nah. Don't like salad."
Xander turned - nearly tripped over Spot - and headed for the kitchen. "Yeah - who needs all that green stuff when you can have ginger-lime butter and enough lobster to choke a horse?" He could hear Spike shedding his coat and boots and he put the bags on the kitchen table - went to the cabinet for plates and utensils. "Oh! I don't have any beer or anything - sorry."
"No worries, Xander. Brought my own." Xander looked over his shoulder to see Spike pulling bottles - one, two, three - out his coat pockets and he laughed.
"A vamp with a plan. I like that." Xander set two places at the table - pushed Jerome off of a chair and went to get a bottle of water for himself. "You got chowder too, right?"
"Don't be daft. Of course I did." Spike walked over to the table and Xander couldn't help noticing his worn jeans were dark with rain from mid-thigh down. And the shirt - some sort of silken button-up, dark red - clung damply to Spike's chest and shoulders.
*I'm not gonna make it through this dinner without embarrassing myself. Oh my god. Dinner. Is this a date? Am I dating William the Bloody?* "Did you ride your bike over here?"
"Nothing like a ride in the rain. You'll have to do it with me sometime," Spike said, putting the bottles down with little clinks. He pulled out a chair and sat down - reached for a bag and unrolled the top, taking out container after container of food. Xander did the same until the tabletop was covered. Fragrant chowder and pan-seared scallops - steak and crab and mussels, calamari and tuna and pasta. Spot and Jerome were in hysterical ecstasies, standing on their hind legs, claws sunk into Xander or Spike's thigh. Yowling and snatching at offered tidbits until Spot got overexcited and nipped Xander's finger.
"Okay - if you guys don't calm down, I'm locking you in the bathroom!" Xander glared at the cats who glared back. Jerome groped hopefully at the table-top, trying to hook a piece of lobster off Spike's plate and Spike growled down low in his chest. Both cats froze, tails fluffing out and ears going flat. Then they fled.
Xander stared after them, bemused. "If I'd known it was that easy -"
"You'd have invited a vampire over ages ago?" Spike finished, and Xander kicked him under the table.
"They weren't scared of you before."
"'Cause I was giving 'em my halibut. Spoilt little monsters, aren't they?"
"Well - I...oh, shut up," Xander grumped, grabbing for his water bottle and ignoring the look of amusement on Spike's face. "Just wait 'til you have your own."
"M'not a pet kinda person. At least, not that kind of pet," Spike added, giving Xander a look that was so laden with innuendo, suggestion and lust that Xander dropped his water bottle and leaned over - grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt and yanked him into a hard, butter-flavored kiss.
"Are you saying you want me to scratch your tummy?" he joked breathlessly.
"Sayin' I want to see if I can make you scream this time," Spike muttered and pulled Xander out of his chair. Xander didn't realize until two minutes later - when he nearly gave Spike a piercing - that he was still clutching his fork.
"Okay, I know I've seen these before," Xander said, straddling Spike's thighs determinedly and groping beside the couch for the books he'd gotten from the library. Spike - sprawled decadently in Xander's too-large robe, the shoulders pulled down and *love* bites on his neck - lifted his head and looked around, eyebrow going up.
"You thinking about knocking me over the head with those or what?"
Xander raised the biggest book, grinning. "And dragging you back to my lair."
"Already in your lair. What's that you've got, then?"
"The Primitive Art of Africa and Rock Art of the Bushman," Xander read. He lay them both down on Spike's back and Spike hissed - scissored his legs and twisted and Xander ended up on his back, his flannel pants slipping off his hips and a naked, rampant Spike pinning his wrists to the carpet. The books lay on the floor next to them, one open to a vista of the Matobo Hills.
"Those are cold."
"I just wanted to see - I've seen that stuff before, how your tattoos look. When I was in Africa -"
"Why in bloody hell were you in Africa? You never told me."
Xander blinked up at Spike, frowning up at the deep scowl on Spike's face. "I was looking for Slayers."
Spike just stared at him for a moment and then he sighed and shifted - lay down so that his hips were socketed with Xanders, the robe spread over both of them and his hands curled under Xander's shoulders, pulling him close. His expression smoothed out - went a little distant. "There's been rumors goin' round, the last couple of years. Some big mojo - things changing. Why doesn't it surprise me you lot had something to do with it?"
"We did. Willow did. She - there was this weapon and she used it to give the Slayer power to all the potential Slayers all over the world." Xander let his hands slip under the edges of the robe and trace the line of tiny, contorted figures that marched in a twisted frieze down Spike's spine. Man-shapes in poses of agony, insect-like shapes, something that could be flames. Stick-like and uncomplicated but Xander could sense the power in them.
"Leave it to Red. You know a lot of those Slayers - they're just little girls. Fair game," Spike said softly, his nose and lips brushing slowly over Xander's collarbones.
"Yeah, I... You know, let's leave the 'What I did on my African Vacation' talk for another time, okay? It's kind of a mood killer."
"Bein' held down and tattooed by a Bushman shaman to 'quiet the demons' isn't much of a pick-me-up, either," Spike murmured.
Xander laced his fingers into Spike's hair and pulled him up for a long, hard kiss. "I think they're beautiful," he whispered.
Spike smiled down at him - traced the emptiness that had been an eye with the tip of his finger. "So're you, pet." Eventually, the books were rolled over and squashed, but neither one of them noticed.
The phone was ringing and Xander groped for it - then sat up and peered around him in frustration when he couldn't find it. *Oh. At Spike's house and my phone must be...somewhere in my bag or...on the floor? Or -*
"Lettin' in the cold," Spike grumbled, hooking an arm and a leg around Xander and pulling him back to the center of the bed. Huge bed and Xander flailed for a moment for the edge and then gave up, laughing.
"It's not cold."
"S'raining and it's cold and now you owe me," Spike huffed, curling over and around Xander - warm here and cool there, all dense muscle and slither like a giant, nacreous snake.
"I do? What, exactly, do I owe you?"
"Wake-up shag. Or - pre-nap shag, it's bloody early."
"It's - it's almost noon!"
"And you're late for work, I'll bet. Gonna be later." Spike's mouth was snakelike, too: flickering tongue and prickling fangs and Xander felt like Eve in the garden.
*No, Adam. Except the snake didn't tempt him. Did he? Was Satan gay?*
"What are you talking about?"
Xander looked up at Spike who was looking down at him with a bemused - amused - expression on his face and the smudged traces of eye-liner around his eyes. His left hand absently petted Xander's hip and his rings were chilly. Xander shivered - reached up and curled a lock of bronze-wheat-white hair around his finger.
"Just giving into temptation."
"Bloody well better," Spike murmured and slithered down.
*Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. I'll take Evil for one thousand, Alex.*
Later - around three when he'd finally untangled himself from a sated, deeply sleeping Spike - he found his phone and checked his messages. Just one, a number he didn't recognize. He pressed buttons and listened, struggling into his jeans. *Need to get some cat food - maybe some of those little treats. The boys are gonna be pissed at me for not coming home last night.* The message started to play and Xander stopped dead, his jeans halfway up his thighs and his heart starting to pound.
"Hello - Xander Harris? This is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce... I'm sure you remember me... I'm calling to tell you - well, to warn you... Angel's been rather - preoccupied - about you and - and Spike since you called and... Well, it's been rather - annoying really, and I just found out through Fred that Faith and Connor decided that they needed to come and visit so they could - uh - reassure Angel that all was well... I hope - all is well? They left sometime Tuesday I believe, so look for them early this evening, perhaps? If I'd known about this I'd have tried to stop them, or called you sooner but -"
Xander dropped his phone. "Jesus Christ. I'm getting a visit from Batmite and Xena, Warrior Princess."
For a visual, go here.
ETA:Credit for 'Batmite' goes to
pretties_4u who is *not* on the Connor lurve-train.