Written for the Drunken!Giles Ficathon
This challenge takes place in December every year.
lostgirlslair is the great women who initiates and organises it in her LJcommunity gilesslash.
Giles/Spike - 14+ - 2,800 words My assignment was to write for Alexao who wanted: Spike, Giles’ guitar and a lone sock and did not want explicit sex or any drug other than alcohol. Set during Season 4, post-chip Spike
Baby, it's cold outside!
Spike heard the last of the Scoobies leaving as he tried yet again to get comfy in the bath tub. They had all come over to see Giles for a little Christmas Eve party and, judging by the sounds which had been emanating from the living room, a good time had been had by all. The younger members had all been drinking sodas, but Spike had definitely caught the aroma of a well-aged scotch which was obviously what Giles had been drinking and Spike was very keen to sample it for himself.
“Oi, Watcher,” Spike shouted. “How about letting me out of here now. I’ve been good whilst your little gang were having their party, now it’s my turn.”
Giles walked in to the bathroom topping up his drink, which he had picked up on the way back from the door.
“What are you yelling about, Spike.”
“Oh, Glenmorangie, that’s my favourite. How about giving a guy a sip?”
“I’m not going to waste my best scotch on you.”
“Who better to appreciate a single malt of the finest quality than a fellow Brit,” Spike cajoled. “Come on, mate, you know you’re not in any danger from me. How about we call a Christmas truce and you let me out of here and we welcome in the festive season in style.”
Giles pondered for a moment. He knew that there was no real threat from Spike since he’d had the Initiative chip inserted in his brain and it would be nice to have a bit of company that was actually older than the bottle of scotch he was drinking for once.
“Okay, I’ll let you out. But no messing about or you’ll go straight back in the bath.”
“Sure, you bet. I’ll be as good as gold, cross my heart.”
“I don’t think you need to go to quite such extremes, Spike,” Giles said, as he unlocked the padlock holding the chains in place.
Spike stood up and stretched his arms high above his head to ease the crick from his back. As his arms went up so, too, did his t-shirt, exposing his taut, washboard abs. Giles turned quickly away, telling himself that he hadn’t been watching more of the skin be revealed as Spike stretched first one arm behind his head and then the other.
Giles had definitely been without a girlfriend for too long, he decided. Or maybe even a boyfriend, he declared fairly, as he remembered times during his earlier years when he had been interested in either sex. He had to admit that he was attracted to a person for their own merits, not being dependent on their gender. But he certainly wasn’t interested in Spike, absolutely not!
Spike distracted him from these thoughts then by asking once more for a drink of Giles’ scotch.
As Spike stepped out of the bath a lone beige sock fell on to the floor at Giles’ feet. Spike bent forward quickly to grab the sock before Giles could get hold of it.
“Spike, what is my sock doing in the bath with you? I wondered what had happened to it when I had an odd sock left over after doing the last load of washing.”
“Erm… well, it must have just fallen in when you were sorting the clothes out.”
“Well, give it to me then please and I’ll put it away.” Giles held out his hand to take back the sock.
“Well… I… You don’t need it right now do you.” Spike looked very guilty and hid the sock behind his back. “I’ll do some washing for you tomorrow and I’ll sort it out for you, no problem.”
“Why on earth are you volunteering to do my washing? Just give me the sock, Spike.”
“I really don’t think you’d want it right now.”
Giles’ face took on a look of dawning horror and he took a rapid step backwards. He raised his hands in front of himself as if trying to push Spike away, or at the very least, the image which was now seared into his brain.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve been doing what I think you’ve been doing.”
Spike looked somewhat bashful for a moment then shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, a bloke’s got to do what a bloke’s got to do. I thought I was being very considerate.”
“Considerate! I’ll have to wash them all with bleach. No, I’ll have to burn them. I can never wear any of those socks ever again.”
“No need to overreact, mate. It was only this one and I’ve rinsed it out each time.”
“’Each time’,” Giles looked aghast again. “You mean it’s been more than once!”
“Well, of course, it’s been more than once. I have a very healthy sexual appetite, I’ll have you know.”
Giles shook his head trying to remove from it the thought of Spike’s sexual appetite and the images which would lead to the satisfaction of those desires. He wasn’t interested in that image at all he kept telling himself. He definitely needed another drink.
They moved through into the living room and Giles got Spike a drink and then he grabbed his own glass and poured himself a very, very generous measure.
The two men progressed on to more harmless topics of conversation and were soon discussing their favourite drinks and parties and traditions of Christmas they’d both enjoyed back home in England. They gradually worked their way through the whole bottle, getting more and more drunk as they did so, until Giles went to top the glasses up again only to find it empty.
“’S gone?” Giles looked puzzled as he tipped the bottle up and peered down the neck, giving the bottle a shake as if some more liquid would suddenly appear from the empty bottle.
“Haven’t you got another bottle anywhere?” Spike asked.
Giles gesticulated behind him towards the cupboard under the stairs.
“’S another one in there,” Giles said, as he tried to stand up. His foot slipped out from under him and he crashed back down on the sofa. “Whoops a daisy!” he said, as he started giggling over at Spike.
Spike patted him on the shoulder as he himself stood up.
“I’ll get it, luv, you stay there.”
Spike went over to the cupboard and quickly found another bottle. As he was pulling back out of the cupboard something fell down from the side where it had been wedged in. Spike pulled it out and held it up for Giles to see.
“My guitar. Oh, bring it over Spike. I forgot that was there, I haven’t played in months.”
Spike brought the drink and the guitar over and topped up both their glasses whilst Giles took the cover off his guitar and starting tuning it.
“Here you go,” Spike said, as he passed Giles his drink. “Give us a tune then.”
Giles took a large drink and then started strumming.
“What would you like to hear?”
“Give us something Christmassy.”
Giles started playing the intro to ‘Let It Snow’ and he and Spike both started to sing it together.
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we’ve no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
“That’s what this country needs – some snow. Or any kind of real bloody weather, except for this incessant sun. Where’s a bit of rain when you want it,” Giles complained.
“Couldn’t agree with you more, mate. They can’t understand why we talk about the weather so much at home, but it’s because we get so much variety in our weather, even during the same day. The only reason they don’t talk about it over here is because it’s always the same. Spike put on an American accent: ‘Oh wow man, did you see all that sun we had this morning. We haven’t had such a clear and bright day since yesterday!’”
Giles was giggling again by the time Spike finished.
“That is so true. It’s just always the same here. It would be nice to have a bit of a change now and again. Let’s have another song, what would you like?”
They started with some of the old favourites: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, White Christmas, The Christmas Song, the Slade classic, Merry Christmas Everybody and Wizzard’s, I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day.
“How about a few proper hymns now,” Giles suggested. “I used to like going to Midnight services on Christmas Eve when I was younger and listening to the choristers.”
“Dru had a thing for choristers too; she used to like to make them sing for her supper.”
“Spike! That’s disgusting,” Giles groaned.
“What? I was only saying. Let’s do ‘Little Town Of Bethlehem’ and ‘Once In Royal David’s City’, I used to like those.”
They proceeded to sing those two carols and then carried on with ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and ‘While Shepherds Watched’, plus several more. In between each song they were keeping their voices well lubricated with more scotch and some of the lyrics they were now coming out with were becoming weird and woolly in the extreme.
“Ya know,” Spike slurred. “If you like chosters… chorers… choristers,” he grinned at having finally got the word out correctly, “we ought to do ‘Walking In the Air’. That Aled bloke had a really high voice.”
“Oh yesh, I like that one, but I can’t play it.”
“No matter, luv. We’ll just sing it.”
Spike stood up rather wobbly and pulled Giles up after him. The pair stood there unsteadily for a moment, before Giles counted them in. Then, in unison, they began singing, both using a falsetto voice and by the end of the first verse they were practically screeching along together. They turned and looked at each other and collapsed back down on to the sofa, heads leaning against one another, giggling hysterically at what they had been doing. When they had recovered slightly, Giles put in a request for another of his favourites.
“Let’s do ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’. I’ll be Dean Martin and you can be the girl.”
“Hey, why do I have to be the girl?” Spike pouted.
“’Cause I’m more manly, of course,” Giles giggled. “Plus, judging by how high you just sang that last song you’d make a good girl.”
“You were singing just as high as I was and, anyway, stop casting ‘spersions, mate. If I was a girl I’d be a bad girl not a good girl. Bad girls always have more fun.”
Giles pointed at him and sniggered. “Do you realise you’re arguing about what type of girl you’re going to be. I’m definitely the man now.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
They turned to face each other, still being very close together from how they had landed during their giggling fit earlier. Their legs had somehow become entwined and Spike had ended up with his leg across Giles’ thigh. Spike started in on the first line.
“I really can’t stay.”
“But baby it’s cold outside.”
“Got to go away.”
“But baby it’s cold outside.”
Almost subconsciously they found themselves doing the actions that matched what they were singing. Giles pretended to take Spike’s hat and patted his hair as he told him ‘your hair looks swell’ and pointed out of the window as he told Spike to ‘look out the window at the storm’.
Spike got caught up in it too and started acting the part of a shy, young girl and he really pulled off the reluctant acceptance of Giles’ advances well. He coyly wagged his finger in front of Giles as he said ‘I ought to say no, no, no sir’.
They kept going until Giles got to the line about Spike’s lips ‘looking delicious’ and he found himself staring pointedly at them. They did look delicious, all soft and pouty. As Giles sang the line, ‘Gosh, your lips are delicious’, he stretched out his thumb and slid it along Spike’s bottom lip, finding it just as soft as it appeared.
Spike stopped singing as he felt that thumb slide back across again and, almost of its own accord, his tongue came out to moisten his lip where it had been touched. As he did so, the tip of his tongue caught the side of Giles’ thumb.
Giles groaned as he watched that tongue moistening the delicate lip he had just been touching and when the tongue touched him he felt a shaft of pleasure shoot from his thumb, right up his arm and straight down to his groin.
Giles moved his thumb back to the centre of Spike’s mouth and ran it across the slight crease where Spike’s lips were parted. Spike stuck out his tongue again and this time he licked all around the edge of Giles’ thumb, before sucking the whole thing into his mouth.
Giles moaned again as he felt all these enhanced sensations. Giles watched Spike bobbing his head up and down as he sucked on Giles’ thumb, his motions simulating another action which Giles was now feeling desperate to experience. Finally, Giles could bear it no longer and he pulled his thumb out. It popped as it came out of Spike’s mouth and Spike looked most disappointed for a moment at its loss until he realised that Giles had other plans for his mouth.
Giles leaned his head forward until he was poised right in front of Spike. He pushed his tongue forward and traced it along the path his thumb had taken, tasting the soft, moist lip in front of him. Spike gasped as he felt that warm tongue touching him and Giles took instant advantage of that movement to slip his tongue into the small gap which appeared.
Spike wasn’t slow to react and, as soon as he felt that tongue sliding across his own, he put his hands on either side of Giles’ head to hold him close and slid his own tongue into Giles’ mouth. They spent several minutes revelling in the tastes of each other as they explored their mouths.
When they had had their fill, Giles pulled back slightly and looked into Spike’s lust-glazed eyes and knew they must match his own. He started kissing his way along Spike’s jaw and down the side of his neck. He paused for a moment over Spike’s pulse point, knowing what a sensitive spot that was for a vampire. He grinned to himself as he sucked hard on the skin and gave Spike a deep, purple love bite.
Spike gasped loudly as he felt the pressure over that point on his skin and he only waited long enough for Giles to let go before he dragged Giles’ mouth back up and started devouring him, wanting to taste the mouth which had just given him such pleasure.
When Giles’ brain had recovered somewhat from that onslaught, and he had filed away the information of what delights he could evoke by playing with Spike’s obviously highly erogenous zones, he decided that the sofa wasn’t really a comfy proposition for what he wanted to happen next. He definitely wanted to see what other talents that tongue possessed and he wanted to follow through on those images he had pictured before when Spike had been sucking his thumb.
Giles pulled back and looked at Spike again. He had to admit it, the man was beautiful, especially with that debauched look on his face and his gelled-back hair all ruffled from where Giles had been running his fingers through it.
“Shall we go somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Giles asked, nodding his head towards the stairs.
“Thought you’d never ask, luv.”
Before Giles even realised what was happening, Spike had disentangled their legs, jumped up off the sofa and bent down to pick Giles up. He had already started to make his way over to the stairs with Giles held in his arms before Giles had even drawn breath.
“Hey, you were s’posed to be the girl, not me.”
“Yeah, but I told you that I was going to be a bad girl and we’re like the Mounties, we always get our man.”
Giles giggled at the analogy – not that he could think of the word analogy in the state he was in! – and he fake swooned in Spike’s arms.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Mr Mountie, you’re my hero.”
“Well, we aim to please.” Spike grinned down at Giles, “and believe me, love, that’s just what I’ll be doing.”
Giles looked up at the handsome face above him and, as visions of just how pleasing this encounter looked like becoming flashed through his head, Giles decided that this might well turn out to be a very happy Christmas indeed.
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