A series of 8 ficlettes, and 1 drabble, for those with a high squick threshold
Warning: If mention of bodily functions squick you, this may not be the fic for you.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to these characters. I'm just using them for my own twisted gratification. No copyright infringement intended. This also goes for whatever product, movie, actor, television program, store, or any other pop-culture reference that may be included throughout the fic.
An extra-special thanks to Crazydiamondsue for the beta!

Humans Are Disgustin'


1 The Trouble with Chimis

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: The perils of eating too many chimichangas.
Feedback: Please, sir, may I have some more?

"That's disgustin'," Spike all but growled.

"I can't help it!"

"I can't help it," Spike repeated, mocking Xander in a whiny voice.

"Well, I can't!"

"Right. Yeah. Just like you couldn't help ordering the special."

"But it was all you can eat bean chimichangas, Spike. You know how I love chimis," Xander stated, ever the voice of reason when it came to good eats.

Spike got out of bed so he could more easily gesture at his lover rudely while he continued his rant. "What moron orders chimichangas at a place like 'Bucky's Fondue Hut', you ponce? I don't care that you fry 'em yourself at the table. An' just 'cause it says 'all you can eat' doesn't mean you should take it as a bloody personal challenge, Harris."

"But, but they were small…"

"But…but you ate 28 of them, you greedy git! An' point that arse away from me. It should be registered as a soddin' lethal weapon."

"C'mon, Spike. It's just a little gas. It'll pass," Xander said, and then giggled. "Hey, I rhymed."

Spike was in no mood. "You fuckin' pass gas in here one more time and I'm gonna call in a goddamn HAZ-MAT team!" Spike ripped a blanket and pillow of the bed, and tossed them at Xander. "Out!"

Xander's face fell. He clutched the pillow and blanket to his chest and walked out of the bedroom, dejected.

Spike sighed in relief before he climbed back into the warm bed and pulled the comforter up to his chin. Fifteen minutes went by. The bed was cold. Thirty minutes. Too damned quiet. No heartbeat, no soft snoring sounds against his neck.

He held out for an hour. Couldn't sleep without a warm boy behind him, snuggling close. Bugger. Grumbling, he tossed back the covers, stalked into the living room, grabbed Xander, and dragged him back to bed.

Spike covered up the surprised boy and snuggled against him.

"Um, Spike?"

Spike tossed a leg over his boy, shrugged, and said, "S'not like I have ta breathe."

Xander smiled as he reached over and turned out the light. "G'night, Spike."

"Tomorrow you're installin' one o' them ceiling fans."

2 Here's Corndog in Your Eye

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Rides + junkfood = ???
Feedback: Please? I'll candy your apple for you.

The evening hadn't started badly, Spike reflected. The boy had been all eager and puppy-ish, all but bouncing in his eagerness to get to the Indian Summer Carnival in the next county. A few sneaky, not-so-little snogs and less-than-totally-obvious gropes on top of the Ferris wheel…a few candy-apple kisses behind the concession stand.

Of course, after that was when it all went to hell. That's when Xander insisted on riding the bumper cars. Which resulted in Spike hosing off his docs. Thank hell he'd left the duster at home. Spike tried to be patient.

"You know you get car-sick, Xander…"

"Only in the back seat!"

"The car wasn't even bloody moving, Xander."

"But the guy in back, he came from this way," he said, gesturing even though he was still bent over, "and that little girl in the braids rammed me from the other…"

"Well, you showed her, didn't ya, pet?"

Xander slowly stood up and looked around. "Do you still see her mom? Now, she was scary!"

"I think she was a mite peeved that you spewed half-digested corndog on her tot's head, luv. Congrats on projecting it that far, though. If you could do it on cue, we could call Guinness. Get ya in the book."

Xander looked at the ground. "Sorry, Spike."

Fuck-all. Now the boy looked depressed. Wouldn't do. "C'mon, then, pet. What other mechanical monstrosity do ya want ta ride next, eh?"

Spike was rewarded by a dazzling smile. "Oh! The roller coaster. Definitely. But first, I want to get something to eat. I'm starving!"

"Of course you are, Xan."

"Ooo! Look! Nachos."

It was gonna be a long night.

3 Now, That's Talent

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: More rides + more junkfood = Even more than the last story.
Feedback: Please? I'll give you dibbs on my funnel cake.

"Spike! A little help here?" Xander asked between retches as he bent over by the bushes behind the Tilt-A-Whirl.

"What? I was waitin' for your head to start spinnin' around."

Xander glared up at him, breathing hard from the exertion of vomiting repeatedly.

At Xander's glare, Spike pulled out his omnipresent handkerchief. Xander'd already gone through all the napkins; after the Slip 'N Slide, Spike had stocked up. Xander had killed off the napkins after the Flying Eagle. He hated to pull out his surprisingly pristine hanky. His Mum had taught him that a proper gent should always carry a handkerchief. Somehow, he didn't think that the need to pass it off to his barfing boytoy so said boy could not-so-daintily dab off the blue…blue? Oh, right. Slush Puppy…specks from his lightly stubbled chin, had ever crossed her mind.

Spike glanced down. Bollocks. Harris could barely hit the side of a crypt with a crossbow but he sure as Christ could hit Spike's docs like a soddin' sharpshooter every time he tossed his cookies...or cotton candy…or caramel corn.

Maybe he should take a few steps back? Bugger. Too late, he realized, as Xander doubled over and Spike watched the remainder of $17.84 worth of regurgitated food hit the top of his Doc Marten's. Oh, well. When it came to upchucking, the boy certainly had talent.

4 What British Guy Doesn't Like Tea....Cups?

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Xander's favorite ride.
Feedback: Please? I'll let you share my Dramamine.

Spike's jaw was clenched. His teeth were grinding. His left eye had developed a tick. Xander swallowed hard. "At least I missed your docs this time," he offered in an apparently vain attempt to placate.

The irate vampire pinned Xander with a definite pre-chip-variety glare. Xander backed up a few feet and tried a goofy grin next. "So. Whatcha wanna ride next, Spike?"

"Your arse!" he growled, walking menacingly towards the boy. "You've blown feckin' chunks on or after every goddamned ride tonight!"

Apparently, Xander had heaved up a few brain cells that controlled self-preservation before he oh-so-helpfully pointed out, "Nuh-uh. I didn't throw up on the Ferris wheel!"

Spike clenched his fists audibly. "No. But you did on the bumper cars, the roller coaster, the Tilt-A-Whirl. Even the fucking carousel, you bloody pillock!"


"Xander, if you knew that the rides would make you sick, why the fuck did we get on them?"

"I like the rides."

"Then why the hell did you eat all of that disgustin' shite?"

"It's tasty? C'mon, who doesn't like funnel cake?"

"How much did you like it when it came up through your nose, you git? And that's a sight I can go eternity without seeing again, ta very much."

"I get hungry after I throw up, Spike."

"Then why, why for the love of Satan didn't you take some sodding Dramamine or some such?"

"Oh, it makes me drowsy. I couldn't enjoy myself if I was drowsy," Xander said, as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

Spike was gobsmacked. "I've bloody well had enough! Get your arse in the goddamn car!"

"Please, Spike? Please? Just one more ride? I promise I won't eat before we get on it!" Xander pleaded.

"No," was the terse reply.

"Pretty please with a blowjob on top?"

"Not tonight, luv. There's not enough mouthwash on the bloody planet."

"Spike! I promise I won't puke. I've never, ever puked when I've ridden this ride before."

"There's always a first time, Harris."

Xander turned on the puppy eyes. He stuck out his lower lip in a pout. He made a sad, little whimpering noise.

Spike was a tower of strength. A rock. A veritable monument to…oh, bloody hell. Was the boy's chin trembling? Fuck. Tower of Jell-O, more like. Soddin' marshmallow. "Oh, alright! Jus' stop with the…" he trailed off waving at the boy's expressions.

Xander bounced. "Yes! And I promise I will give you that blowjob. But I'll brush three times, and use the Waterpik, and gargle with Scope, 'n everything. Thanks, Spike!"

"Yeah, yeah. But this is it. We go home right after, agreed?"

Xander nodded his head in affirmation.

When the approached the aforementioned ride, Spike stopped in his tracks. "This spins, Xander."


"I don't think you're getting' what I'm sayin' here. It spins. In small circles."

"Uh huh."

Spike was incredulous. "You've been bounced, bumped, twisted, turned, gone up 'n down, backwards 'n forwards, and you've upchucked every…single…time!"

Xander shook his head in denial. "Not on the Ferris…"

"Alright. Not the bloody Ferris wheel. Why is this ride any different?"

Xander thought about it for a moment before he answered. He shrugged. "Dunno. I've never gotten sick riding the Teacups. Cross my heart!"

Spike looked dubious. Fortunately, the line for the ride was short. The evening would be over that much more quickly. Luckily, they wound up with their own private teacup. It was bad enough with the bumper-car bint; he didn't want to have to try and fend off a whole gaggle of parentally pissed-off humans he could do nothing about.

He looked across the teacup at his boy. Despite spending a great deal of the time heaving up his toenails, Xan looked happy. Really happy. And, despite of all that had transpired, Spike found himself smiling back.

As the gears for the ride switched on, a look of mischief sparkled in the boy's eyes. "Mind if I drive, Spike?"

"G'head, Xan."

Xander gripped the large, metal wheel in the center of the cup and began to spin it…starting slowly and then building speed.

Spike relaxed back into the seat, letting everything whir around him. T'wasn't too bad; kinda boring, actually. The whirring got faster. And faster. The sights, and sounds, and smells began to spin 'round, and 'round in his head. Faster. Faster. His vision began to blur, his head was spinning…fuck, no, stop!

Spike dug his nails into the vinyl seat, puncturing the sturdy upholstery and burying them in the cheap foam rubber cushion. His stomach was doing somersaults.

Spinningdizzyspinningdizzyslowdownslowdownspinningstopstopstopstop. He began to pant, desperate to keep his stomach from rebelling.

"This is great!" Xander yelled out, glad that his stomach wasn't flipping over in protest. "Isn't it great, Spike?" He looked over at the vampire and frowned slightly. "Spike?"

Spike looked green.

Xander's eyes flew wide and he threw himself on top of the wheel, gripping it tightly, and wrapping his arms around it in an effort to slow it down. "It's slowing down, Spike. It's slowing down," he repeated.

Spike's eyes were impossibly wide and watering from the stinging wind of the spinning. He was breathing hard and swallowing convulsively. Xander watched him closely, obviously worried. As soon as the ride slowed to a halt, he helped Spike stumble off.

Spike barely made it to the entrance of the ride before he doubled over and vomited violently. The waiting children and their parents jumped back to avoid the splash. More than a few 'eww's were heard.

"Jesus, buddy," said the dirty-looking carnie operating the ride. "Ya probably shouldn't have drunk that much fruit punch before you got on the 'cups, man," he theorized, his brow wrinkling in disgust at the widening red puddle.

"Uh, yeah. Fruit punch. Baaaad idea," Xander sputtered out while trying to help Spike over to a less-conspicuous area. He got the gasping, shaking blond over to the side of one of the outbuildings.

Spike leaned against the wall and breathed deeply though his mouth, trying to calm his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I fuckin' look alright?"

"That would be a 'no'. Hey, look on the bright side; at least you didn't kak on my sneaks!"

Spike leveled his gaze at the boy. "I, William the Bloody, just threw up on a fuckin' kiddie ride. A master vampire who just humiliated himself by spewing in front of an entire crowd of soddin' humans!"

"Yeah. I guess now you're the Scourge of the Carnival."

Spike narrowed his eyes.

Xander tried to muffle a snicker.

"What?" Spike snapped.

"Big Bad Barfer," Xander managed to say before he lost himself in helpless giggles.

Spike felt the urge to vomit again and doubled over, retching.

This time, he aimed for the boy's sneakers.

5 Fyarl Demons Are Amateurs

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Xander caught a bug at work.
Feedback: Please? I promise not to sneeze on you.

"Spike?" came the muffled, nasal voice from the bedroom. "Spike? Can you get me some orange juice, please?"

"Alright. Hold on," came the gruff reply. Whiny git was home sick. Seems most of the crew was down with the same damned virus that Xan had.

"Here," he said, handing the bed-ridden boy his juice. He looked around the bed in disgust. The boy's lousy aim seemed to extend to snotty tissues. "Here's a thought, Harris. How about pretending the trash basket is my docs and just pretend you're upchuckin' when ya toss the Kleenex?"

All he got in return was a petulant look while Xander blew his nose. And blew. And blew. And kept blowing.

Spike began picking up used Kleenex with kitchen tongs he'd placed on the nightstand just for this purpose.

"You'd think your head would be empty by now. After all, it was only half-full ta begin with."

"Very funny," Xander replied, feeling way, waaaay too crappy to try and think of a clever retort. He pulled a few more tissues from the box and tried to roll the phlegm up his throat so he could spit it out.

"That sound is disgustin'."

Xander spat into the tissue and wearily replied, "Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, but the orange juice breaks up the crap in my throat."

"Perhaps you should ring up Rupert. He probably has a few pointers about mucus, having been a Fyarl for a bit, 'n all. You two could talk shop."

6 If You Can't Take the Heat, Stay Out of the Construction Site

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Excessive heat + sun - sunscreen = ???
Feedback: Please? I'll rub Noxema aaaaaaaalll over your body.

Spike knew something was wrong right off. Kinda obvious when the first thing Xander did after coming through the door was rush to the kitchen sink to throw up. Bad timing, too. Montel was on with that Sylvia Brown bint.

"Glad to see you too, pet. What's wrong? Stop at a festival on the way home?"

Xander just grunted and leaned his hot forehead against the cool edge of the sink. When Xander gave no more reply than that, Spike got up to take a look. Xander's work shirt was gone, leaving him in a dirty, sweaty wife-beater. He was badly sunburned and was shaking.

"What the bloody hell did you do to yourself, now?" Spike was upset. It seemed like the boy hadn't drawn a well breath in weeks. Every time he turned around, the boy was sick or injured. It…unnerved him.

Xander took a couple gasping breaths and splashed cool water over his face before he pushed himself into an upright position. "Really hot today. A bunch of guys had to go to the Emergency Room with heat stroke."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, then?"

"J-just heat exhaustion."

"Why is your skin so sunburned?"

"I sweated off all the sunscreen."

"Then why, you moron, didn't you put more on?"

"The bottle was empty." He interrupted Spike before he had a chance to say anything else. "Look, I don't want to argue. I feel like hell. I just want to take a cool shower, drink about 80 gallons of water, slather myself in Noxema, and sleep for about 16 hours. Can you wait till then to bitch at me?" Xander began to wind his way over to the bathroom.

Spike glared at him and prepared to throw a truly impressive tantrum but was stopped in his tracks by Xander practically keeling over while he tried to walk across the room. He used his speed to catch the boy before he fell over. Xander's reddened skin was hot, but dry…like he hadn't sweated for awhile. He could practically feel the heat radiating off Xander's body. He bit his tongue and helped him into the bathroom.

A long cool bath, 3 pitchers of ice water, half a jar of Noxema, and 4 episodes of leg cramps later, and the boy was finally resting more or less comfortably. Now, the boy was chilling a little due to the severity of the sunburn and Spike had put several lightweight covers on him.

Spike was getting frustrated. Xander kept getting sick and hurt. Over and over, and Spike couldn't do anything to stop it. It made him angry. Xander rolled over and whimpered in his sleep. Spike put a cool hand on Xander's warm forehead and stroked it lightly until the frown on his brow smoothed out and he sighed contentedly in his sleep. "You've got to stop this nonsense, Xan. You hear me?"

"Mmm. Spike," he breathed out.

7 Is It Moulting Season?

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Xander's extra flaky.
Feedback: Please? I'll promise to flake in the other direction.

"What the bloody hell is this?"


"This. In the bed. Looks like sodding dandruff on steroids."

"Oh. Sorry. That's me. My skin is peeling."

"What the fuck do you mean your skin is peeling? You're not a snake, you dolt."

"It's because of the sunburn. See?" He turned around. The skin was much less reddened but had peeling pieces of skin all over.

"That's right nasty."

"Yeah, well…wanna come over and peel it off? Doesn't hurt and it kinda helps with the itching."

"Really?" Spike was intrigued…he hadn't been able to peel the skin off a human in years.

8 Judge Not, Lest Ye Really Piss Everyone Off

Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Spike doesn't feel well.
Feedback: Please? I'll polish your spectacles for you.

"Giiiiles!" Xander shouted out as he burst through the door of the Magic Box with a really rough-looking Spike. "Hey, Giles!"

"Don't bellow, Xander. I'm not deaf," Giles said when he came out of the back room. "What is it?"

"Spike's sick," Xander replied while helping Spike sit in one of the more comfortable chairs.

"Vampires don't get sick. Perhaps his chip simply went off. Did you anger him; perhaps vomit on his boots again?"

"No. And geez! I get a little sick and throw up on Spike's docs once time…"

"Seven," was the muffled reply from Spike who had his arms wrapped around his head, resting on the tabletop.

"Beat it to death why don't you?" Xander muttered. "Take a look, Giles. He looks like hell! I'm really worried."

Giles began to walk towards the undead patient and Willow bounced though the door.

"Willow! Spike's sick," Xander announced.

Willow's facial expression fell a little and she walked over to the table. "I know."

"You know?"

Everyone turned to look at Willow in shock. "Um, yeah."

"Willow, what did you do?"

"A spell. To make Spike sick."

"What?" Xander screeched. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Willow plastered on her resolve-face and began to explain herself. "I don't like the way Spike treats you when you're sick. I don't think he appreciated what you were going through."

Spike felt too shitty to comment. He was barely able to moan out a weak, "Fuckin' hell."

"Oh, shit. This is like that time you gave me cramps when I made that stupid comment about PMS, isn't it?"

Willow had to smile a bit at that. Xander had whined incessantly while he'd pressed a heating pad to his abdomen and pounded chocolate like it was being discontinued from this dimension.

"It's not funny!" Xander shouted, angry.

Willow and Giles jumped at his tone.

"Dammit! He's not human! There was no way you could know how that spell would affect a vampire! A-and he's my boyfriend. You have no right to be so, so, so…"

"Interfering?" Giles offered. He pulled out his handkerchief and began to polish his spotless lenses. He was obviously less than pleased.

"Right! And doing something like that…just making the decision that Spike was treating me badly was, was…"

"Judgemental?" The Watcher contributed.

"Yes! Willow. Willow, I thought you were my friend. Why is it you always disapprove of who I'm dating?"

"I don't," the redhead denied.

Everyone stared at her again.

"Okay. I do," she said, crestfallen. "It's just that I love you so much and I want you to be happy."

"So you make my undead boyfriend sick? Oh, yeah. I'm all kinds of happy, now."

"Well, it'll only last for 72 hours."

"Christ. Fine. What will last? What exactly did you give him?"

"Uh, sort of a combo."

"What symptoms?"

Willow began to innumerate on her fingers. "Runny nose, fever, chills, congestion, cough, sneeze, nausea, diarrhea, dizziness, vomiting, headache, muscle pain…"

"Shit! Are you completely nuts? Is there a way to reverse it? Return to sender?"

Willow shook her head. "No," she answered in a small voice.

As if on cue, Spike began to cough. Xander hurried over to him and gently asked, "Sweetheart? When did you start feeling bad?"

"J-jus a couple hours ago, Xan."

"C'mon, baby. Let's get you home and try to get you comfortable." He helped an even weaker Spike to his feet. "Giles? Can you do me a favor and pick up a few things and drop them off at our place? I really want to get Spike home before all the symptoms hit."

"Of course, Xander. I think I have a good idea what to pick up. I'll get some blood, too."

"Great, make it human, please? I'll reimburse you later. You're the best, Giles."

"I'll be along as soon as I have a brief discussion on magical ethics with our Miss Rosenberg."

Willow shifted from foot to foot, obviously dreading the coming conversation.

Xander nodded as he supported Spike's shoulders, tempted to just pick him up and carry him to the car. He didn't look at Willow as he left.

9 Tea and Sympathy

R (for language)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: Spike and Xander discuss their situation.
Feedback: Please? I'll be your private nurse. I've been told I have a pleasant bedside manner.

"I'm so sorry you feel bad, baby," Xander said, stroking the pale, shaking back. It had been a really rough two and a half days.

Spike's voice was gruff from his sore throat and deep cough. "W-was I really that bad to you, Xan?"

"Well, you weren't exactly Mr. Sympathy. And it did kinda hurt my feelings when you kept saying how disgusting I was."

"'M sorry, luv," he said. "Never meant it, well, not that it wasn't disgusting, but I didn't mean to hurt ya. You know that, don't you?"

"I did wonder sometimes if you'd be nicer if I was just nuts instead. And I did get a few licks in there, too."

"Yeah." Big Bad Barfer definitely stood out in Spike's mind. "It's just…it scared me, Xan. You bein' in a bad way. You're so bloody fragile. I don't want to lose you, pet. Jus' haven't had to deal with all that human stuff, in over a hundred years. Don't quite remember how."

"I'd say you've gotten a hell of a lot of experience, now. From both sides. And I don't plan on going anywhere, Spike."

Spike grunted. He still felt awful. Fuck. He had been a bit of a bastard to Xan. For the past 2 days since Red's spell, Xander had been nothing but kind, sympathetic, and nurturing. Spike definitely needed to eat some crow…as soon as he could keep something down.

Xander held his palm to Spike's surprisingly hot and sweaty brow. "Hey, I think your fever is coming down a little. Tell you what, how about a nice bath? I can use the essential oil that Tara brought by; the eucalyptus will help open your head up."

Spike sighed. "Sounds lovely."

The young man pressed a gentle kiss to Spike's shoulder. "I'll go start the bath and make you some of that chamomile tea Giles dropped off. It'll help your throat. I'll put a little honey in there, too."

Spike drifted, exhausted, until it was time for his bath. Xander helped him in, stripped, and got in behind him. Spike leaned back into Xander and groaned in contentment. Xander's hands came up to rub Spike's neck and shoulders. "I'm so sorry Willow did this to you."

"Much as I hate ta admit it, the bint did it 'cause she loves you."

"I know. Still pissed, though."

"Oh, yeah."

"But I have kinda liked taking care of you. You don't let me do it much, normally."

"S'pose not. But I think I could get used to it."


"'An I think I'd like to try takin' care of you a little better."

"I'd like that, too."

The End

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