Pairing: Spike/Xander. Basement days.
Rating: R - NC/17
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon. I'm just playing.
Feedback: It's really nice to get some..





First Time Ever I Saw Your Face


by
Twilightofmagic





Part One



Dear Spike,

I donít know what the hell has got into me. Iím sitting here writing a letter to someone I hate, and for sure Iím never going to send it, but...


This is so lame. I had to stop and go for a walk around the block, get some fresh air. Get my head straight. And here I am back at the table writing to you again, writing as if I could really talk to you this way. Which I will never, ever do. Talk to you like this, I mean. Youíd give me one of those looks--you know the one--okay, maybe you donít know since youíre the one whoís giving it. But I know it. Been on the receiving end more times than I care to think. You just stop cold, your eyebrow rises slowly, your mouth gets these little sarcastic lines around it and you stare. For about five heartbeats. Five horrible seconds when I cringe inside and swear to zip my lip forever. Never again open my mouth to say something so stupid you get that look on your face. Iíve seen it so many times. And let me tell you, I just shrink and mentally kick myself for being such a dork.

But not so youíd see. Thatís when you get the brilliant insults. Fangless wonder, Willy Wanna Bite Oh yeah, you must really feel bad about yourself when I let loose with the well picked phrase. As if.

So, here I am writing as if youíre listening and I still donít know why. Well, I do know. And this is going to sound even more stupid than me writing this letter. To you of all people. The radio was on. Someone must have been fooling around with it and I wish youíd keep your fingers to yourself. I was just sitting on the sofa flicking through TV channels with the mute on, and started to hear a song--Roberta Flack singing The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Not my usual taste in music, though if I have to admit--and why not, no oneís going to read this--I like those slow, bluesy love songs. Makes me feel all quiet and kind of sad. Fuck. I can't believe Iím writing this. If I get any more girly, Iím going to check for tits.

Anyway, I started to listen to the song. Really listen to it. Itís not so much the words, but the emotion in it. And--Iím almost too embarrassed to even write this down in black and white. Okay, here goes. I was thinking about your face.

Sorry. Had to go away for a walk again. This is really too hard, too stupid. Itís upsetting me, but I just have to get it out some way. I canít tell you about it. Fucking hell. Iíd kill myself before Iíd ever let these words out my mouth. I hate you. But while I was outside kicking the side of the house, I made up my mind to come back in here, set fire to the letter and find something better to do. Fold laundry, jerk off, eat the left over Rocky Road in the freezer. Laundryís still in the dryer, but I did eat the Rocky Road. Probably jerk off later.

Anyway, listening to the song made me think about the first time I saw your face. Actually, not the first time. That was at the school on the night of St. Vigius. You were vamped out, and I was being offered for you to snack on by Angel. Good Times. Yeah. So, not then. You looked pretty scary that time. And hot. God, you were hot, even all fangy. Impressed the hell out of me. Wished I could swagger like that. So sue me. I was a geeky 16 year old. Okay, Iím still geeky. What can I say.

But the first time I ever really looked at you--really saw you--was just recently. You were sleeping, tied up in the chair beside my bed. You probably donít know this, but I watch you while youíre sleeping. Canít help myself. Youíre right there, couple of feet from me, and lots of nights I canít sleep. So I watch you. Iím terrified youíll wake up one time and catch me doing it, and Iíll probably die of embarrassment. No alternative but to kill myself on the spot. Cuz I hate you. We gotta keep that in mind. Jeez. Youíre not really reading this. Fuck.

Okay, I gotta keep that in mind. Hate you.

Remember that night when you were complaining about being tied up? And I wiggled my butt at you. Sure, pretended I was going for the light, but I knew what I was doing. That was because Iíd spent the previous night looking at your face for hours. And...okay...deep breath. Youíre so beautiful when your face is relaxed in sleep. Everything just falls away. All the snark, the hard lines around your mouth, the tension in your eyes. Your face goes still and kind of peaceful. I always thought your eyes were your best feature--yeah, I noticed. Theyíre kind of scary a lot of the time, filled with anger and--I donít know--theyíre knowing. Youíre smarter than you let on. I can see you thinking in there. I donít know what about, but it unnerves me. And theyíre so blue. Sometimes, they catch the light and...shit...I get hard. Find myself staring at you and I have to snap myself out of it fast before anyone notices, especially you. Spend quite a bit of time resting heavy books in my lap when weíre at Gilesí place.

When youíre sleeping though, your eyes are hidden. Canít see me looking at you. Canít see into me in the way you seem to. Freaks me out. Sometimes I get the feeling you can read my thoughts. So I make sure you know what a disgusting thing you are. How much I hate you. Because I do. Donít forget that.

But when youíre sleeping, sometimes a bar of moonlight comes in through the basement window where the curtains donít quite close. It falls across your face, and your cheekbones are outlined in pale light. The rest in shadow.

Aw fuck. Iím going to be writing sonnets next. Youíre probably safe though. Never could remember the rhyme scheme. So, youíre a pretty handsome guy, okay? And you should see your lips. The top lip is thinner than the bottom, but perfectly shaped. And, swear to God, your lower lip has become like one of those songs you canít get out of your head. I keep seeing myself chewing on it lightly, pushing my tongue past it into your mouth and....

Okay. Back again. Had to go and take care of some business in the bathroom. So I could concentrate. Once I realized I was becoming Mr. Obsesso guy about watching you at night, I began sneaking looks during the day. Youíve got a great body, you know. I never see you working out, but your arms are built. And when you pull your t-shirt over your head and fling it in the corner--and canít you ever tidy up around here by the way?--and your abs kind of flex, I have to go to the bathroom and stay there for a while. Wait till you get covered up again. Okay, and take care of the little problem I get. You havenít noticed I spend more time in the bathroom than the average bear? Didnít used to. Just since you moved in.

So, Iím tired of it. Just want it to go away. Want you to go back to Gilesí place and let me have my peace of mind back. Maybe just writing this down will help. God, I hope so. Canít take it much longer.


~*~*~*~*~


Jesus Harris. Get a grip. And if you donít want me reading your girly letters, donít leave them lying around. Your sock drawer isnít exactly the last place Iíd look if I was interested in your feeble thoughts.

Oh, we need milk. 2% Donít want to get clogged arteries. Hate black coffee.

Spike.

p.s. What makes you think I donít know you watch me during the night? Wanker.


~*~*~*~*~



Spike you bastard.

What are you doing pawing through my underwear drawer? Iíd have punched your fucking lights out last night if youíd been home. You asshole. Where the hell were you all night?

And I want that letter back.

You fucking bastard. I hate you.

Xander

p.s. Did I mention how much I loath your skinny white ass. You are scum. No, lower than scum. Youíre a bacteria. A creepy crawly little pustule of infection.


Xander!


~*~*~*~*~




My my. What a temper. Didnít think you had it in you. And you love my skinny white ass. Said so in your letter. Black and white. Canít take it back. Sweety. Honey. My little brown haired billet doux.

And you canít have it back. Lost it.

Smooches,

Spike

p.s. You donít know how close you got to being buggered till your eyes bulged that night. Think those ropes could have held me? Vampire. Just in case youíd forgotten.


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Okay. This has got to stop. When I said you didnít have to be tied up any more, I didnít mean you could just fuck off at night any time you wanted. Iím supposed to be watching you. And I want that letter back. You havenít lost it. Youíre just trying to torment me.

Now give it back. Asshole.

Xander.

p.s. Oh yeah, you just try it. You lay one finger on me and Iíll make sure your chip fries your worthless brain. Smokeíll be coming out of your ears. And anything else you bring near me.


~*~*~*~*~


Xander, mon petit Snickers bar,

Been giving your problem a lot of thought. Now, it seems to me youíre just suffering a little hero worship. And teenage hormones. The hero worship I can understand. I mean, look at me. And you do. Youíre still not managing to hide it. Wonít talk to me, but your eyes give you away. The hormones part I know for sure. Pours off you. Got me walking around hard all the time.

So hereís the deal. Iím willing to help you out a bit. Donít thank me. Iím just a giving kind of vamp. I figure you just need to get laid. And Iím willing. You donít need to do anything. Just lie there--face down would be preferable--and Iíll take care of the rest. Time someone popped that cherry for you. Just getting you all hot and bothered.

This is a limited time offer, mind. Iím not a patient man. Take it or leave it.

Spike.

P.s. Don't worry about the lube. Got plenty

XXO <- guess what the O is. Heh. Youíll soon find out.


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

All right. Thatís it. You are so out of this basement and out of my life. When I come home from work tonight, I want your things out of here.

Xander


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Got home and your stuffís still here, but youíre not. So what the fuck is going on? Iím going to bed. If you come in after Iím asleep, I want you to pack up your stuff and be out of here by morning.

Xander


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Where the hell are you? Iím leaving this note in case you come by to get your stuff. Itís been a week since you were last seen by anyone. Thatís unusual. Someone always sees you around during patrols. The townís not that big. Giles thinks maybe someone got lucky and dusted you. One of the other vamps whoís been gunning for you. I donít really care, but still, if youíre still alive--okay, if youíre still not alive, and non dusty, let me know.

Xander




~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Okay, youíve been seen. Someone told Willy and Willy told Buffy. She said it was too bad. She thought you were out of the picture and good riddance.

I think we should talk. Iíd like to talk to you. Let me know if you want to talk to me.

Xander

p.s. I shouldnít be saying this...okay, not going to say it. Iíll tell you if I see you.


~*~*~*~*~


Xander,

Came by but you werenít at home. Been thinking. You know that thing you said about the song that keeps replaying through your head? Got one of those. ĎCept itís not a song. What do you think about that? Curious?

Yeah, letís talk. When?

Spike


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Weird. We keep missing each other. I got home from work and found your note. Not sure what you mean about the song. But maybe thatís one of the things we should talk about. I have to work overtime tomorrow. Come here after 9, and we can sort things out.

Can't believe I'm saying this, but I kind of missed you while you were gone. You know. In the other way.

Xander


~*~*~*~*~


Xander,

So what happened this time? I came by at nine and you werenít home. Thought you wanted to talk to me. Itís okay if you donít. No skin off my nose. Got better things to do with my time than hang around waiting for you to get your shit together.

Spike


~*~*~*~*~


Spike,

Iím so sorry. Stupid fucking boss wouldnít let me go. Said I had to stay to clean up. Not paid for that, but told me Iíd be out on my ass if I didnít. I really do need to speak to you. I need to--well, just want to clear the air between us. Get a few things out on the table and see whatís what. If youíre still interested, tomorrow night at 7. Iíll be here, come hell or high water.

Xander

p.s. Could you pick up some beer?


~*~*~*~*~


Xander,

Came by while you were at work. Wanted to leave you something to listen to before
I arrive. Left it on the table.

Spike

p.s. Do you know your lips kind of go up in a pout? Canít fathom why the girls havenít eaten you up like chocolate on a stick.

P.p.s Beer if you want it. Iím bringing JD for me. Canít stomach the swamp water you yanks call beer.

P.p.p.s No, Iím not making rude sounds. Just thought you should know I found the letter. Seems to have been hidden in my back pocket.



Spike,

Okay. Well. This started with a letter and I guess it fits that it ends in a letter. Not ends really. I figure itíll go on for some time. But I want to tell you a couple of things that Iíd still feel a bit embarrassed to say to your face. And while Iím talking about faces, wow, Spike. When I put that CD in and heard Robertaís voice pouring out, my heart just about stopped. Never in a million years would I have put you down as a romantic. But I guess Iíve got a few things to learn about you.

Like

#1 Iím not gay. Iíve never kissed a guy before, never mind a vampire guy. But when you leaned over and kissed me, I...kind of out of words here. Not so good with words, even though I run off at the mouth all the time. I just...well, you kiss like your heart and body is in every single little touch of your lips and tongue. I think I might have to quit my job to just stay home and kiss you. Does that make me gay? You know, I donít care any more.

#2 You make love like a demon. I always thought that was a bad thing. And donít think that I wasnít terrified. That was virgin ass you took last night--I guess you could tell. But this is just one more thing I would never have dreamed in a million years. You were so gentle. You stroked me, and kissed me and turned me on like Iíve never been turned on before. I was so hard I could have...well, actually I did. But you didnít make a move before I was ready. And you made me so ready. I was out of my mind most of the night with what you were doing to me, but there was one tiny little last cell in my brain that was taking notes. And by God, I guess experience counts. It hurt. Guess it canít not hurt first time. But somehow, you made it not matter. Strike that. It mattered a lot, but somehow the pain was good and I hate pain. Strike that too. Just some kinds of pain. But the feeling of your cock sliding inch by inch inside me, you stroking my back, whispering things, sweet things, dirty things to me, I just opened up under you. I didnít know that was possible.

Whole new world, Spike. First time for me and I want more. Maybe not just yet--a little tender right nowĖ-but soon.

#3 That youíre so observant. I had no idea you were watching me too. Youíre good. Very good. I never caught it. And you remembered the first time you saw me--night of St. Vigius. I had no idea you jacked off later because you didnít get to bite me. Best I didnít know that when you started to hang with us. Would have freaked me out for sure. Or that you love brown eyes. Never thought about mine as anything special. I mean, I donít go looking at them in the mirror all the time. Might do now, though. Now I know you think theyíre sexy. Have to try to see what you see. Naw, I know I wonít. They just look kind of dorky to me. Too--I donít know--I figure everyone can see what a geek I am. Thatís why I look away quickly. Itís hard for me to hold someone elseís eyes. But, like I said, whole new world. When you were inside me the second time, and looking down with that expression on your face, I couldnít look away. Donít want to spoil anything before it gets properly started here, but I almost wanted to cry. Always thought your eyes were hard and angry. Guess theyíre not all the time. Iíd give a lot to see you look at me that way again. Hope youíre going to want to.

Guess youíll be waking soon. I have to go to work, but I want to leave you this so youíll know Iím going to be counting the hours till I come back. If youíre not here, I guess Iíll understand. Itíll be hard, but Iíll get that you...okay, thatís wrong. I wonít get it. If youíre not here when I get back, I have to tell you honestly--and thereís not much you donít know about me now so I may as well say it--Iíll find it real hard to take.

But I got the impression that once youíve started a thing, itís not for the short haul. So, Iím pretty hopeful.

Xander




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