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Xander was tired. Not the bone-tired exhaustion that can only come from manual labor, but the under-your-skin, listened-to-people-bitch-at-me-all-day exhaustion that is the byproduct of slaving away in retail hell. As Xander thought this, he chuckled a little. Here he was, living on the actual Hellmouth, and even fighting revolting hell-beasts was a welcome alternative to the retail grind. He guessed that the powers that be had one hell of a twisted sense of humor.
Sighing with relief, Xander marched into his basement, ready for a night of microwaved food and karate movies, as seen from the most comfortable position of sideways on his couch. Then a knock at the door: in an instant, he knew his plans had been foiled. "Just kill me now," he mumbled to himself as he opened the door. "Well a hearty good-evening to you, Spike. What can I do for you that will get you out of here the fastest, and preferably without much speaking?"
"Well, good evening to you too. Sale at the irregular clothing outlet, I assume?" Spike answered coolly, eyeing Xander's Hawaiian shirt.
"Ha, ha, ha!" Xander shot out loudly, then stopped sharply. "Well if that's all, then I'll be getting back to..."
"Wait, wait. So ask me in, already," Spike ordered.
Xander scratched his head for a second. "Well let me think if my plans tonight included you, hmm... right, no they didn't." He made a move to shut the door.
"Be a pal, Harris," Spike mockingly pouted. "I need a favor."
"Oh, that's rich. A favor. Spike, we ain't cool like dat."
Spike stomped. "Let me in you giant floral nightmare!"
"Talk like that isn't getting' you in the door, mister." Xander folded his arms and shook his head.
"I 'aven't got a lot of time here, kid."
Xander clasped his hands in mock terror. "Oh no! Are they after you? Whatever shall we do?"
"As a matter of fact, I do have someone on my tail, and if you don't let me in, you'll be responsible for my bloody demise. What do you think of that?" Spike folded his arms impatiently.
"I think that I'd get a medal. Probably a good one too, like a Congressional Medal of Honor, or an Olympic medal, or something. It may well be my civic duty to not let you in. Besides, what makes you think that they won't find you in here."
"Last bloody buggerin' place on the planet I'd be by choice," Spike spat. Xander pursed his lips into a little "o". "Ooh, wrong answer. Thank you for playing, we have a box of Rice a Roni as your parting gift." Xander made a move to close the door.
"Wait, wait!" Spike shouted. "Maybe you'll change your mind after seeing...this:" Dramatically, Spike pulled Xander's 1978 original Darth Vader action figure out of his back pocket.
Xander gasped. "You fiend! How did you get that?"
Spike shrugged. "Swiped it the last time I was here. Now are you ready to talk?"
"Entrée, evil villain," Xander growled, taking a step back to allow Spike through the door.
Spike stepped in and slammed the door shut. "Was that so hard, dolt?"
"Give me Darth."
"Not so fast, I seem to recall you not wanting me in your dank little dungeon."
"I still don't."
Spike went into the kitchen area and pawed through the refrigerator. "Well then, I think I'll have to hold on to your toy for a while longer."
"Stay out of my food." Spike wordlessly shoved a piece of leftover pizza into his mouth. "That's my dinner!"
"Too bad, git."
Xander flopped onto the couch and tried to ignore the vampire in his kitchen. Spike was not making it easy for him; he had begun to pose Darth in a variety of suggestive positions. Xander cleared his throat: "So, how long can I expect the pleasure of your mooching?"
"Don't worry, luv. I'm in no hurry ta go." Spike brought the pizza box and action figure over to the couch. "Care for some pizza, Punkin?"
Xander snatched his action figure back. "Feet off the coffee table, Transylvania 6-5000."
Spike only stretched out further, and crammed another slice in his mouth. "What's on the telly, nit?"
"Bruce Lee movies. And you are going to be completely silent through the entire thing. You get me? Not one word."
"Oh, my lips are sealed." Spike made the locking his lips gesture. "Wouldn't dream of talking through your blatant attempt at machismo. Oooh, you're a toughie, Xander Harris, a real man," Spike goaded him, running a hand along his arm seductively.
Xander moved to the end of the couch, as far as possible from the vamp. "Next rule: no touching. Followed by no sitting on my side of the couch. See?" Xander drew an imaginary line down the center of the middle cushion. "Three cushions, one and one half each. Comprende?"
"Got it, Xanny." Spike sat quietly for a few minutes, then stuck one finger onto Xander's side of the couch. Xander ignored him. Spike then made a dramatic stretch, and placed his entire hand onto Xander's side. Xander continued to ignore him. "Uh oh. Looks like I'm on your side of the couch," Spike sang.
Xander continued to ignore the blonde, so Spike decided to stop being subtle. He scooted over onto the middle cushion, shoulder to shoulder with Xander. Xander rolled his eyes and raised his hands in the air in a penitent motion. "Hey Spike," he started very loudly. "You may not have realized, but you are on MY SIDE!"
"I noticed, dumplin'," Spike raised his eyebrows up and down and placed one hand on Xander's knee.
"I'm guessing you don't need that hand anymore," Xander hissed.
"Oh, I'll need it. And you are very sexy when you're threatenin' me," Spike purred.
"Ok, can someone, anyone, please explain why *Spike* is hitting on me? Is this just my lucky day, or what?" Xander looked around the room, but didn't get an answer.
"I can make it your lucky day, pet."
Xander jumped up, immediately followed by Spike, who lunged for him. Xander took a swing, but fell over the coffee table and landed flat on his back. Spike leapt over the table, and knelt down, straddling Xander with his legs. With a flash of lust, Spike licked his lips and forced them against Xander's, where they remained in a passionate kiss for several minutes.
When they broke apart, Xander spoke first. "So?"
"I think that was the best one yet," Spike nodded enthusiastically. "I loved that whole bit at the door. Ooooh, and that old name tag, a lovely touch. Very realistic."
"I thought you might like that, you perv," Xander giggled, stroking the vampire's chest. "You weren't so bad yourself, stealing Darth and all."
"Come to the dark side, baby," Spike said lasciviously. "So, next time, let's do the time you tied me up. I love that one, nummyness."
"Definitely." Xander nodded from the floor. "Promise me one thing."
Spike had pushed Xander's shirt up under his arms and was kissing his stomach. "What's that luv?"
"Promise me that we will only live in houses with basements."
"Oh, yes, luv. Definitely basements."