Disclaimer: I borrow them, muss up their hair and send them back to Joss a little more jaded.
Feedback: This time - I only want flames, do you hear? FLAMES!!!
Notes/Spoilers: Un-beta'd. No spoilers. Pure, unadulterated fluff. AU PWP without the first “P” as well as the second.
“Yeah, mate, just like that... “
“Spike, push it in faster... please... “
“Hey - in case you hadn’t noticed it’s bloody tight from this end.”
“And that’s my fault?”
Breathless grunts, followed by an, “Ouch! Damnit! Not that fast!”
An evil chuckle. "Make up your mind, mate."
“Christ, who knew it’d be this huge? It didn’t look this big before - “
“Oi, Harris! A little harsh, there, aren’t we?”
A snort. “Hardly. Man, I could so do without this thing right now.”
“Well if it’s such a bloody nuisance to you - such a tiny-lookin’ bloody nuisance - “
“Don’t be like that - “
“I’m not being like anything, Harris. I’ll just let you finish up here solo, since - ” A nasty smirk. “- my expertise is so obviously wasted on you. I’ll be at Willie’s having a coupla pints.”
Five Hours Later
“Ah, Willie’s... home of the Skanky-B.O. demons. And of Spike. Hello, Spike.”
“Whatcha doin’ here, mate?”
“Why - ?” Xander lowers his voice and leans in. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“Can’t say as I rightly know. Know what you’re not here for. Know that much.”
“Come on... “
“Easy there, boy; hands off the merchandise.”
“Spike - “
“Lookee, Harris, no touchee,” Spike mutters, taking a healthy gulp of his pint. Xander’s hand on his arm doesn’t leave. It settles there, comfortingly; comfortably.
“On second thought, mate, no lookee or touchee. Go home. Before you get eaten, yeah?” Spike knocks back the rest of his blood, giving himself what turns out to be a very temporary blood-mustache. Xander turns Spike’s face toward his own and leans in to kiss the cool, bloody lips, licking away traces of the oddly enticing flavors of AB-negative and Southern Comfort.
And then they’re looking at each other, one trying not to breathe too quickly, the other trying not to breathe at all.
“Can we get outta here?”
Spike’s face is totally inscrutable, a chiaroscuro study in the dingy light of the bar; a marvel of cheekbones and electric blue eyes. For a moment, the smirking “no” is as palpable as the sudden hard on distending Xander’s jeans.
Then a room temperature hand takes Xander’s and lookit! There’s the leer!
“Soon as you settle up m’ tab, pet.”
Three Hours Later
“I can honestly say I've never done that before..."
“You, oh jaded, 126 year old Master Vampire? There’s something you haven’t tried?”
“What’d you expect? Was faithful to Dru, wasn’t I? And she certainly wasn’t packin’ what you’re packin’. Bloody hell..! Where did you learn that? I haven’t felt so bloody violated since this one time, Angelus - “
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! We’re in the middle of some truly epic afterglow here, blondie. Do you really wanna finish that sentence?”
“Hmm.” Spike doesn’t stop smirking in what appears to be very fond remembrance. Too fond. Xander rolls over onto him and kisses the smirk away. There’s some very nice touching, followed by some very not-nice-at-all touching; then a groan.
“Spike, about earlier - what I said - “
“Insulting my manhood, you mean?” Even Spike’s pouts look like leers.
“Okay, a) you're not a man, you’re a blood-sucking creature of the night and second - how is saying that that ugly, dilapidated thing looked smaller than it is insulting your imaginary manhood?”
“Wasn’t so imaginary when you were swallowing it down so nice a few minutes ago, luv.”
A silent pause filled with blushing and leering, respectively.
“Be that as it may, this is just - stupid! It did look small enough to fit in until it got stuck! And then you, captain chivalry, didn’t help matters by leaving me trapped in my apartment with that - monstrosity blocking the only exit! What if there’d been a fire? Or an apocalypse?”
“Bollocks! And there’s always an apocalypse.”
“I had to remove the door to get it in here! Then put the door back on! And then I had to wrestle the damn thing into the bedroom just to get it out of the way! By myself, unaided by preternatural strength.” Xander nods at the hideous, ancient thing that seemed, now, to take up fully half the bedroom. They both stare at the thing, the armoire, in silence: a giant, many-drawered hulk with chipping varnish and a disturbing number of gouges and -
“Spike - are those bullet holes?”
“Mebbe. Dunno. Didn’t look this gift horse in the gob, did I? Thought you might want it and just brought it straight here.”
“Uh... where - ohmigod - did you find thaaaaat thing - yeah, right there, right there.” The sudden onslaught of nuzzling is distracting Xander, making it difficult for him to follow his previous train of thought.
“Didn’t, luv. Got it from Clem. Poker debt he owed me from way back.” Xander smells, as always, of chocolate. And sex, now. Two of Spike’s favorite scents.
“Out of kittens, wasn’t he?”
“That’s what I told Clem! But Slutty the Vampire Layer’s gone and warned every pet shop within twenty miles of Sunnyhell to be on the look out for people with strange skin conditions buying kittens in bulk, so, 'less a demon wants a Slayer-sized arse-kicking, gotta deal in - “
“Armoires?” A barely suppressed snicker. Xander’s found his voice again.
“Necessities, pet. Was a time when no home was complete without one of these babies. Went to a lot of trouble to get it here.”
“So you’re saying I need something that’s huge - “
“ - that has to be forced into tight entrances - “
“Oh, yeah, pet...”
“ - and is peeling, riddled with bullet holes and smells kinda skanky when you get too close to it?”
Another silent pause, this one filled with blanching and leering. Respectively.
Even Xander's leers looks goofy.
“Wanna tread lightly, Harris, or the first time could also be the last.”
Yet another pause.
“Guess some wood glue and a few coats of varnish might just help.”
“Tell me more...” Spike’s leering smirk is back, and his hands are once again doing wonderfully naughty things that make Xander’s breath take a vacation in Aruba.
“Some, uh... sanding. I’ll have to sand it first. Much sanding to be done.”
“Do tell, luv, I’m all ears. Well, not all ears.”
“Wha- tell me carpentry-talk isn’t turning you on, evil undead.”
A final pause.
“Carpentry-talk is turning you on?”
“Yeah... go back to the sanding and varnishing bit, there's a good pet.”
“Well, uh... it needs a lot more than - sweet jet-pack Chanukah! - sanding and v-varnish. Needs, uh, new hinges...”
“And new knobs and handles. Dozens of hundreds of new knobs and handles...”
“Oh, yeah... more...”
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