Private Dancer


Watching Spike fight was a lot like being at the ballet. The taut, lean, muscular body dipping and swaying in it's deadly dance – one mis-step could mean catastrophe, but it never happened. Spike always seemed to be three or four steps ahead of whatever he was fighting which made him appear all the more graceful – like he knew the moves and others were merely stumbling through the motions, lamely following his footsteps, like novices dancing alongside a professional.

It reminded Xander of a trip he had made to the ballet when he was younger. In an attempt to force some culture down their young throats, Sunnydale High had hauled his entire class to Los Angeles to attend the ballet. It was a cheap performance – he remembered that much otherwise there was no way Tony and Jessica would have paid for him to go – and his fellow students were rowdy and loud until the performance actually started. And then he no longer even heard them. Suddenly, all of his attention – every last bit of it, no distracting inner babble, no checking out girls as they milled around – was focused on the stage. He learned later that the main male dancer was called the Danseur Noble if he was deserving of the title. The dancer they saw was incredible – tall, powerful, taut bodied, beautiful and Xander was sure that he was deserving of that title simply because he changed the way that Xander saw himself forever.

Fluffy, pretty ballerinas in tutus, swirling and twirling across the stage in minimal amounts of clothing seemed to grab the attention of his male classmates, whereas he could barely take his eyes away from the male lead. He couldn't even remember what ballet it was – all he knew was that it was the first time he realised that he found men beautiful – that his unruly body didn't just react to women, but to men as well. And for once in his young life, he didn't fight it – he didn't wonder what his dad would say, or how his peers would react. He didn't feel shame or fear. There was no room for any of that – his heart was full of watching the amazing grace of this young man, leaping across the stage in powerful, amazing arcs, arms raised expressively, every line of his body assisting in telling the story.

He never followed through on any of those inclinations – Buffy came to town, Jesse who was probably the most likely candidate for his attentions was gone, and suddenly his life was full of powerful women and practically permanent danger – and his inclinations were buried unintentionally in the drama of his life. Until Spike.

Until the first time he saw that sharp cheeked, cockney voiced, loudmouth, larger than life vampire. Spike was the enemy – the bad guy – William the Bloody, here to claim his third slayer. And even knowing all of that, seeing the hatred between Angel and Spike; Spike's drive and vivacity as he did his absolute best to kill one of Xander's best friends – there was just something about him. Something that reawakened the desires that had been sleeping since that school trip – since the time he saw that dancer leap gracefully across the stage, And it all came rampaging back and Xander burned.

The chip made it possible to learn even more about Spike – the softer side, the snarky side, the passionate side that had been in love with the same woman for over 100 years and was heartbroken by her betrayal. And it gave Spike the chance to learn more about the Slayer's minions – to see the heart and passion beneath the scruffy, sarcastic image to the man underneath. And somehow – Xander had no real idea how or when – the two of them became an us.......

This particular dance was over – the outcome a foregone conclusion – and his vampire was coming towards him, chest heaving with exertion, panting in order to get his breath back. And all Xander wanted to do was grab him and kiss him, take control of that powerful body, smother that pouting, panting mouth and take all of that passion and life and love into himself.

“What's come over you then?!” Spike pulled his head back, looking into Xander's face with amused eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about my trip to the ballet?!” He wondered how badly would Spike would react to being compared to a male ballet dancer? He gasped as Spike's hand slipped down the front of his trousers, cupping him through the denim that was now feeling way too tight.

“No, Pet, but judging by the state you're in, it's an interesting story.......”

The End