Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1201
Warnings: AU (because Xander has both eyes), Val Kilmer bashing.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made from this.
Author Notes: For last year’s contribution I wrote Who Needs Superman and [info]amejisuto asked me to do one for Batman. So, this is for [info]amejisuto. Better late than never, right?
Beta: [info]vccv
Summary: Written for [info]fall_for_sx Bruce Wayne, or Terry McGinnis? Who is the better Batman, and what the hell does Angel have to do with it?

Saturday Morning Cartoons


Curled up on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons, Xander and Spike were in yet another heated debate over fictional characters.

“I like this Terry McGinnis,” Spike nodded. “He’s a helluva lot better at being Batman than Bruce Wayne was.”

“What?” Xander spluttered, sitting up on his elbow and leaning over Spike to look him in the eye. “No. No way, Spike. Bruce Wayne is the definitive Batman. He’s the original Dark Knight, there is no one better at being Batman.”

“He’s a broody poof,” Spike grumbled.

“Broody? Naw, he’s just the strong, silent type. Tall, dark and handsome, mysterious, sexy as sin.” Xander sighed, his eyes glazing over.

“Oh please,” Spike snorted. “Bruce Wayne is so yesterday’s Batman that it isn’t even funny. Terry McGinnis is the Batman o’ the future. He’s young--”

“Inexperienced,” Xander cut in.

“Eager ta prove himself,” Spike countered.

“Which only means that he’ll be a total top,” Xander said with a roll of his eyes. “And we both know that you would never go for a relationship in which you were always the bottom. You have control issues.”

“Who said anything ‘bout a relationship? I’d just like to bend him over that fancy plane o’ his and give him a right good seeing to.” Spike leered.

Xander snorted. “Total top, Spike. You’d be the one bent over the Bat-plane, not Terry. And also? It’s not his plane, is it? It all belongs to Bruce. The real Batman.”

“Are we still talking about that old has-been? Give it up, love. Bruce Wayne is as outdated as Windows 98.”

“I’d still do him,” Xander muttered mutinously.

Spike chuckled. “You think McGinnis has top issues? Please, you’d have better luck getting into Angelus’ arse than you would old Bruce’s. The man probably squeaks when he walks, he’s so tight.”

“Fine, he could do me; I’m not picky. Besides, couldn’t you just imagine all that pent-up emotion coming out when he fucks? I bet he’d be an awesome lay. And you just know he has to have a utility belt for the bedroom as well. I wonder what kind of funky sex-toys his millions could create?”

“Please, I’ll bet he has no finesse whatsoever. Get it in, and get the job done quick as you can, no thought at all for whether the other bloke is having a good time or not. Just like bloody Angelus. All he needs is a set of fangs and an overgrown forehead.”

“I think you have Sire issues, Spike,” Xander said gently. “I mean, other than the vigilante crime fighting, destroying of evil thing, Bruce Wayne and Angel have nothing in common. I would so not be lusting after anyone who was even remotely like Angel. Gah!”

Spike raised one eyebrow and gave Xander a ‘look’. “Batman drives around in a big, black car, yeah?” Xander nodded. “And Angel drives, what?”

“A big, black car,” Xander answered. “But Angel’s is a convertible - and don’t even get me started on the logic behind that one - and it doesn’t have turbo boosts, or ejector seats, or anything cool like that.”

“Alright,” Spike said, giving him that one. “Try this then. Batman dresses in all black, so does Angel.”

“And so does that group of Goth kids that hang out by the cemetery. That proves nothing.” Xander had the audacity to stick his tongue out at Spike, but Spike only lunged upwards and sucked it into his mouth, giving it a sharp nip, before laying back down, grinning wickedly.

“Batman only comes out at night, same as the Poof.”

“Because he’s a vampire, Spike. That doesn’t count.”

“I’m telling you, Xander. If Angel were turned into a cartoon character…”

“Yeah, ’cause he isn’t one already,” Xander cut in snidely.

“Point,” Spike admitted. “But as I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted - and don’t stick your tongue out at me again, love, unless you plan on using it - Angel is the Bruce Wayne of the real world. Only with out all the dosh and the fancy gadgets.”

“I’m still not seeing it.”

“Maybe if you pulled yer head outta yer arse, you might,” Spike stated, getting agitated by Xander’s obtuseness.

Xander laughed at Spike’s frustration, causing Spike to growl and roll off the couch and onto his feet in one smooth move. He stomped across the room, and sat down at the desk, turning on the computer.

“Spike?” Xander asked, concerned by his lover’s behaviour. “What’cha doing?”

“Provin’ it to ya,” Spike muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Xander just watched, amused, from his seat on the sofa as Spike moved the mouse around on the screen, clicking here and there. He soon forgot all about Spike and whatever he was doing on the computer, drawn back into the wonderful world of cartoons - where justice always prevails, the bad guys go to jail, and the good guys never die.

Half an hour later, Xander was startled out of his cartoon-induced stupor when Spike shouted and punched a fist into the air.

“Ha! Now tell me the Poof doesn’t look like soddin’ Batman!” he crowed and turned toward Xander.

“Um, okay, Spike. What have you done?”

“Come look.”

Hesitantly, Xander got to his feet, walked toward the desk and looked at the computer. On the screen was a picture of Angel. “How is it that you guys show up on film but not in mirrors?” Xander asked.

“Not important right now, love. Watch,” Spike said and then clicked the mouse, which brought up another picture beside Angel’s. One of Batman, from one of the movies.

“Is that George Clooney?”

“Dunno. Does it really matter? Spike asked.

“You tell me. I have no idea what you’re trying to do here,” Xander answered.

Spike huffed and clicked the mouse again. “Watch.”

On screen the images of Batman and Angel were replaced by an obviously manipulated photo of Angel in the Bat-suit. Xander snorted and brought his fist up to his mouth trying to stifle a giggle. “We so have to make that our desktop picture,” he said gleefully. “Maybe I can get Willow to hack into the Angel Investigations website and post it there as well.”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “Lovely thought, pet, but not the point I was trying ta make. Do you see it, now? Angel is just like Batman. Hell, he could be Batman.”

Xander didn’t want to admit it. If he told Spike that he might have a point, that Angel might, in some small, miniscule way, resemble Bruce Wayne, then he would have to admit that he might, in some teeny, tiny, very small part of his brain, find Angel just a little bit attractive. And there was no way he was going to do that.

“Are we talking Adam West’s Batman, Michael Keaton’s Batman, George Clooney’s Batman, or Christian Bale’s? And before you say it, Val Kilmer does not count. He was so not Batman, I don’t care what anyone says. I mean, he wasn’t even brunet, and….”

Spike growled and thunked his head on the keyboard as Xander continued to babble. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

The End

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