"So you're gonna take me out like I was a guide-dog in training so I can get to know the food as people, yeah?"
"Straight to the point Mr Sledge-hammer-man. Not the way I'd have chosen to describe it but, yeah, now you put it like that - it's close enough, I guess."
"Puppy walking! This still-wet-behind-the-ears-barely-been-whelped-himself BOY, is planning on taking me puppy-walking!"
"You've got to learn some manners."
Spike turned to glare at the group of beer-fuelled college jocks, "Go away, I'm busy and I forget my manners when I'm busy."
Derogatory laughter greeted this polite statement and the five guys swaggered towards them. "Well, looky here, the faggot thinks he's being brave."
Spike switched the death-glare to Xander, "See? This," he gesticulated dismissively, "is not 'Company'; it's ors d'ouevres. And there's no dignity in socialising with the starters."
A spin on his heel and he was nose-to-nose, or nose-to-collarbone, with the spokesman who glared down at him, "What did you call me? An "or" what? I'm not an "or" anything, I leave the alternative choices to perverts like you."
Spike took a step backward in order to run a critical eye up and down the solid, bullet-headed form of All-American College Boy. "He called me a pervert, Xan, Why'd he call me a pervert? How does he know I'm a pervert, Xan? He doesn't know me; if we'd met before, he wouldn't be here now."
"I think it was because we were kissing, Spike. Weaver has never had much tolerance when it comes to guy-on-guy stuff."
Spike wrinkled his nose as if he was sniffing the human under discussion. "You know him?"
"Yeah, we were in high school together. He had a real difficult time when Larry came out. Larry was like the idol of all the other football jocks ."
"Oh. He's one of those who plays dress-up in padded armour with crash helmets an' the rest and spends his free time grappling with lots of other dragged-up ponces in order to prove how manly he is?" Spike poked an irresistible forefinger into a chest that proved not as immoveable as its owner would have liked. "And if that's not perverted enough for you, you surround yourselves with jail-bait whose job it is to flash their cunts at you in order to egg you on to triumph." He glanced at Xander, "Have you never stopped to think just how incredibly obscene that whole cheerleader thing is?"
Weaver snarled and, gripping Spike's biceps, lifted him off his feet, "What the fuck would you know from manly, you pathetic excuse for a human-being?"
"I hope you're taking note of the non-aggressive way I'm reacting to this example of ex-tempore socialising, Harris. Though I'm getting rather sick of hanging around like what did he call me?"
"A fuckin' faggot-excuse for a human-being, that's what I called you. Palling up with Sandra Harris proves that - we all knew what he was, right from the start. And now you're going to find out just how bad for your health being a sicko can be." Weaver dropped Spike and followed-up, solidly, with a right-hook to the jaw, which sent Spike staggering back against Xander, "C'mon boys, let's dose out the medicine..."
As the group slowly closed in around them, knuckles cracking in theatrical preparation, Spike addressed Xander, " Do these arseholes assume that we're poofs just cos we like fucking each other? Jesus, guys, get a life!"
Spike moved with deceptively laconic speed. Suddenly a head was staining the path with blood because a boot-clad kick had shattered the owner's kneecap and necessarily introduced him to the unexpected horizontal.
Xander was busy turning their second adversary's face into minced meat and, satisfied that he was allowed off his leash for a while, Spike gripped the throat of a third, holding him at arm's length, while he grabbed the arm of the fourth and twisted until a satisfying snap was followed by a scream of agony. With sadistic malice he jerked the man's broken arm and threw him into the choking, squirming mess that he dangled from his left hand. As momentum sent them flying into the road, Spike caught Weaver's wrist, averting a second punch to his face.
A knee to the athlete's stomach had him folded in half, retching and gasping as tears poured down his face - and being pulled upright by Spike did nothing for his attempts to breathe.
"Oy, Harris! See this?" glaring at Xander who was recovering from his victory - punching a guy really hurts your fist - he jabbed a finger towards his non-vampiric face. "Still socialising on a human level, that OK with you?"
He pushed Weaver with his body and walked him against the wall, still holding him upright. "If you object to me and my boy sharing a kiss, you're going to really appreciate the kiss I'm gonna give you."
Hands struck weakly against Spike's shoulder and Weaver turned his head to one side as Spike flicked his tongue out and salaciously licked his wickedly-grinning lips. Firmly but gently, Spike caught the man's ineffectively flapping hands in one of his and pressed both against their groins. Keeping his gaze fixed on the open mouth still desperately trying to draw in enough breath, he slid his palm across the side of Weaver's face, gently caressing him, thumb distorting the man's bottom lip.
"Now then, Me old mucker," his grip on Weaver's face tightened brutally and he took a moment to enjoy the feeling of bones grating and teeth shifting beneath his fingers. He allowed his own face to shift and Weaver gibbered in terror as he looked at the vampire. Spike glanced down momentarily at the spreading wetness around Weaver's fly and he flicked his hand before wiping it dry against Weaver's shirt, a moue of distaste contorting his lips. He moved slowly forward to within a hair's breadth of the other man's lips, "This is a manly kiss from one manly man to another manly man." He snapped his head back then forward, to crack their foreheads together. One of them split open.
"It's also known as a Glasgow kiss - bloody hell, they'd love you pack of fairies up in the Gorbals, they would. Harris! Can I eat him now?"
The world faded away from Weaver, the blackness strangely comforting, and he dropped like a stone as Spike stopped holding him up.
Spike prodded the limp body with an ungentle toe cap, "Well that's not very polite. How come I'm the only one who's supposed to show manners around here?"
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