"Shouldn't be in here deaf like that, anyway - s'dangerous," Spike says - walks over to the floater and pulls it down to eye-level. Xander is slick with sweat and smells of grease and metal - of burning and rock-sugar candy and Spike wonders if he just kissed him, if he'd get a welder in the face. He has no idea where the sudden heat - the sudden want - comes from, but in his nearly quarter-century in space - and almost two hundred years of living - Spike's learned to just go with his instincts.
I heart your prose, this you already know, but even more than that, I love the scents you give people--despite your own preference of a fishy-smell to a doggy-smell--they're so apt and descriptive and effing cool!
And OMG the flashback! Damn youse! So good, I want more backstory--I mean in addition to "Scaling Heaven". Yeah, I'm a greedy bastid, but if you loffed me, you'd give me everything I asked for. *has a tantrum*
"Huh." Xander rubbed his eyes - watched Spike get a palmful of soap and start to soap himself up. "The dog make it all right?"
"Right as rain."
"What doest that mean? I mean - does that mean rain is the 'right' way for weather to be and not-rain is wrong? Or does it mean -"
"Means he lived, you git."
*squees*
"Think there's time for me to replace that filter?"
"I - dunno. Just leave it. I don't you want you in there with a bunch of tools if we have to move."
"Okay then. But just remember one thing." Xander ducked out of the cabinet and got under the dryer, rubbing lotion into his skin as the warm, forced air blew his hair around his face.
"What's that?"
"If we get pneumonia and die it's all Ferro's fault."
Spike rolled his eyes - shook water out of his hair like a dog and palmed the switch, shutting the water off. "If you all get pneumonia and die, I'll be sure to do something nasty to Ferro's corpse, okay?"
"Sounds good." Xander finger-combed his hair, grinning cheerfully, and looked at himself in the mirror. "Okay then. Battle gear. Do you think the 'U2 - Last Legs' tour shirt or 'Demons do it in the dark'?"
"How 'bout that retro-Hawaiian thing Ferro got you for your birthday last year? They'll be dazed and confused and we can steal all their spoons."
"I don't think Outsides have spoons, Spike."
Spike stared at Xander's 'I'm so serious it hurts' expression. "And I don't think U2's gonna make 'em run for cover. Unless you're gonna stay on board I think you might wanna go for the very expensive body armor I got you."
"Nothin' says 'Happy Birthday, I love you,' like body armor," Xander muttered, walking out into the main room and leaving the dryer on for Spike.
"Better than a sucking chest wound!" Spike yelled after him.
"That's supposed to be 'better than a sharp stick in the eye!" Xander yelled back, and Spike kicked the heat on the dryer up, grinning.
Okay, I, for one, think that all Spander should now take place in Space. Well--Space and Vietnam =D
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"Shouldn't be in here deaf like that, anyway - s'dangerous," Spike says - walks over to the floater and pulls it down to eye-level. Xander is slick with sweat and smells of grease and metal - of burning and rock-sugar candy and Spike wonders if he just kissed him, if he'd get a welder in the face. He has no idea where the sudden heat - the sudden want - comes from, but in his nearly quarter-century in space - and almost two hundred years of living - Spike's learned to just go with his instincts.
I heart your prose, this you already know, but even more than that, I love the scents you give people--despite your own preference of a fishy-smell to a doggy-smell--they're so apt and descriptive and effing cool!
And OMG the flashback! Damn youse! So good, I want more backstory--I mean in addition to "Scaling Heaven". Yeah, I'm a greedy bastid, but if you loffed me, you'd give me everything I asked for.
*has a tantrum*
"Huh." Xander rubbed his eyes - watched Spike get a palmful of soap and start to soap himself up. "The dog make it all right?"
"Right as rain."
"What doest that mean? I mean - does that mean rain is the 'right' way for weather to be and not-rain is wrong? Or does it mean -"
"Means he lived, you git."
*squees*
"Think there's time for me to replace that filter?"
"I - dunno. Just leave it. I don't you want you in there with a bunch of tools if we have to move."
"Okay then. But just remember one thing." Xander ducked out of the cabinet and got under the dryer, rubbing lotion into his skin as the warm, forced air blew his hair around his face.
"What's that?"
"If we get pneumonia and die it's all Ferro's fault."
Spike rolled his eyes - shook water out of his hair like a dog and palmed the switch, shutting the water off. "If you all get pneumonia and die, I'll be sure to do something nasty to Ferro's corpse, okay?"
"Sounds good." Xander finger-combed his hair, grinning cheerfully, and looked at himself in the mirror. "Okay then. Battle gear. Do you think the 'U2 - Last Legs' tour shirt or 'Demons do it in the dark'?"
"How 'bout that retro-Hawaiian thing Ferro got you for your birthday last year? They'll be dazed and confused and we can steal all their spoons."
"I don't think Outsides have spoons, Spike."
Spike stared at Xander's 'I'm so serious it hurts' expression. "And I don't think U2's gonna make 'em run for cover. Unless you're gonna stay on board I think you might wanna go for the very expensive body armor I got you."
"Nothin' says 'Happy Birthday, I love you,' like body armor," Xander muttered, walking out into the main room and leaving the dryer on for Spike.
"Better than a sucking chest wound!" Spike yelled after him.
"That's supposed to be 'better than a sharp stick in the eye!" Xander yelled back, and Spike kicked the heat on the dryer up, grinning.
Okay, I, for one, think that all Spander should now take place in Space. Well--Space and Vietnam =D