Happiness is a holiday bonus!
Dec. 15th, 2003 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
angelchickenToday, we got our holiday remembrance bonuses. Woo! And might I add Hoo! I really didn't know if I was going to get one or not, so the fact that I did just makes me extra happy!
In other news,
I still don't have a title. And it is ultimately a Spike/Xander story, despite what you may read. I have to confess, though, I'm not all that pleased with the second part of the second half of "The Club". I have literally been trying to finish the damn scene months and finally at lunch today I just wrote. I am going to rework it and tweak it, I think, because I couldn't fucking end it, but nothing major. This is still unbetaed, so you can have fun counting the grammatical errors and laughing at the many misspellings not caught by spell-check or my countless rereadings.
Anyway, you can find the first two parts here.
Rated R. Spike/Xander. Post Chosen. Still not mine. James Marsters is hot. I would love it if you would comment on anything you liked, didn't like, didn't understand or anything just so I know if I'm making sense and stuff. This is my first non-one off fic and I am a wee bit stressed about it.
Anyway, the fic:
When we left young Xander, he had seen a Spike-a-like on the beach and used his connections to W&H to finagle his way onto the list at the club where he (Spike) works. Xander was just about to confront the probably-not-a-vampire-anymore-because-he-didn't-burst-into-flames-on-the-beach-person-thing-Spike.
Xander feels like it is taking years for Spike to reach them. Time has slowed down in that surreal way it has when you are pretty sure something profound and life changing is about to happen. He just wishes it would just hurry up already.
Spike works his way over and is standing in front of Xander soon enough. This should be interesting.
“Spike.”
The Club- part B
A pause.
“Don’t know what’s in that, mate, but if you give me the ingredients I can mix it up for you.”
He’s more intent the second time. “Spike.”
“What’s a spike?” He asks, confused.
And now Xander thinks something might be wrong, “You. You’re a Spike. William the Bloody?”
“Nooo,” the bartender draws out. “I’m a Will. William the Sawyer?”
“What?”
“Will Sawyer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t a clue,” he delivers with a small grin. “You started it.”
“You aren’t Spike.”
“Nope. You think I’m someone named after a dog?”
“Railroad spike, actually,” Xander mumbles. A thought strikes. “But you have the scar! And the accent! You’re English!” Xander lays down his Trump card like he has just won the game. Blackjack, baby. Uno. Gin.
Unfortunately, his victory is short lived and results not in a “By Gum! You’re right. How clever of you to catch onto my ruse!” or however Spike would say it, but a personalized version of the “Is everybody here very stoned” stare, which truthfully makes Xander feel about as big as a mite. A stoned mite.
And it’s perplexing, because Xander would bet his Babylon 5 collectors edition commorative plates that the man standing before him is Spike; he knows it like he knows the kind of windows you install in any climate- it’s a no brainer.
Except he can tell by the expression on William the Sawyer’s face the he is in no way Spike.
He shakes his head, obviously mistaken and is about to apologize for the mix-up when he hears a validating “Spike!” shrieked from somewhere to his right, and Xander gives a small prayer of thanks that there is two and a half feet of bar and coolers between Andrew and William the Sawyer (and he has to stop thinking of the guy in that way). Xander is pretty sure Andrew would have had no qualms about throwing himself into the bartender’s arms. He lightly hooks a finger into Andrew’s collar just in case.
William, in the meantime, has swung his stoned gaze to Andrew and a hint of what could be dazed fear, or possibly flat out confusion, has entered his eyes as he tries to absorb the rushing stream of chatter flowing from Andrew. “Oh my God! We all thought you were dead! Dawn was hysterical, talking about not being able to make things right between you and everyone was kind of sad because they all treated you badly but Buffy…” And there is a small – flinch? – reaction to the name, so fast that Xander is convinced he imagined it. “…believed in you and she told us and everyone left except me and Xander and…”
Xander cuts him off with a slight tug and when Andrew swivels his head, Xander gives a small shake.
“What?”
“It’s not him.”
“Are you blind? Of course it’s him! Look at him!”
“It’s not, Andrew.”
Andrew cranes his head back towards Will whose stunned expression has turned to one of amusement. He has a small smile playing on his lips, a fraction of an inch away from a smirk.
Xander really doesn’t understand how this can’t be Spike.
The subject of the debate suddenly looks around, aware that he is actually working and should probably be waiting on the customers, two deep at the bar, most of whom are starting to look a bit restless.
He speaks. “Yeah. Look, what’ll you have?”
“Huh,” Xander asks, eloquence personified.
“To drink? From the bar?” Will holds up a bottle of vodka and swishes it in front of the men.
Xander jerks into awareness and, remembering that he is actually here on a date, turns to Cindy to ask what she is having. She gives Not-Spike her order, and Xander overhears them pass a few words about bitch roommates and Malibu.
Will leans across the bar to give her a friendly peck and then, like a pendulum, his gaze swings back to Xander. No… more like a pit and a pendulum. His stomach drops in a not unpleasant way, and he is suddenly, inexplicably, locked into Will’s gaze. There is something familiar there – knowing – and Xander has the sudden and slightly horrifying thought that he would like to kiss this man with the laughing eyes. Kiss him and then do . . . other stuff that he hasn’t actually done before. He shakes his head to clear it from these unsettling thoughts and opens his mouth to order, when Andrew’s thoughtful voice pipes up.
“We’re having some problems deciding,” he begins, gesturing to his ‘dates’. “I was initially thinking that a drink of the mixed variety would hit the spot, but then Stan suggested something frozen, and it is just so hot in here.” He leans thoughtfully on the bar. “What do you have in the frozen department?”
Finally breaking eye contact with Xander, Will glances over to Andrew, eyes widening minutely – unnoticeable, unless you were just staring into them – at the sight of Andrew almost perfectly mimicking Xander’s stance. He shoots a quick look back at Xander, then grins in understanding, which freaks Xander out, as he has no idea what on earth Will could know.
Will grabs a laminated flip book that has different drinks colorfully displayed - one to a page - and hands it to Andrew, his gaze returning to Xander.
“So,” he begins, casually. “What’ll it be?”
He tries to order, but can only croak. Cindy, her own knowing smile firmly planted on her lips, offers him a sip of what ends up being a really fucking strong Long Island iced tea. He almost chokes at the heavy tequila taste, but at least his throat is clear so he can order a Bud.
Will looks at him like he just ordered flaming dog shit.
“What?”
“Come to my bar, accuse me of being someone named after a dog, and then,” Will pauses, apparently struggling to compose himself. “Then, you have the audacity to order American piss water? I think not. You can have a Bass.”
“What?” Xander’s tone is slightly incredulous. “What’s wrong with Budweiser? It is the King of Beers.”
“Yes, it is. In a country that has no actual royalty to speak of. I’d hardly call this country any sort of authority on the Patriarchy. Or hops. Here,” he hands Xander a bottle of Bass. “It may be utter crap, but at least it’s from the right side of the pond.”
To say Xander is stunned would be an understatement. He opens and closes his mouth a few times and then, because he can’t think of a single reply, asks, “I thought Bass was better by the pint. You have it on tap. Why a bottle?”
Yeah. It’s a dumb question. But it’s all he’s got.
“Trust me, mate, you do not want anything that came out of those taps to enter your body. It is possible that they haven’t been cleaned since this place opened.”
Xander grimaces and gives a nod of thanks. Then mentally smacks himself when he realizes that Will is actually staring at him because he is waiting for payment. Embarrassed, he fishes out a twenty and hands it over the bar. Will smiles and quickly makes change.
He darts a quick glance at Andrew and Co. who are now debating the merits of daiquiris versus coladas and then, sensing that they will be a while, moves onto the next customer.
Xander glances toward Andrew, Dana, and Stan who are now lost in their debate. Seeing they are good for a bit, he finally turns back to his date with an apologetic smile.
“So. Not your guy, huh?” Cindy asks with an apologetic smile. “But are you really surprised? I mean, you did say he was dead.”
“I know, I know. And I am surprised. But it’s more that I’m surprised that I’m surprised. If that makes any sense. I’m sorry. I dragged you out on my ridiculous quest-“
“You’re right, you horrible person,” Cindy monotones, cutting him off. “How dare you take me and some friends to a wonderful dinner at a fabulous Cuban restaurant and follow it up with drinks and dancing at one of the hottest nightclubs in L.A.” She smiles and gives him a playful swat on the chest. “I’m having a great time. It seems like everyone is. You are having fun, right?”
Xander’s smile it completely genuine. “I am having barrels of fun. Really. And I am embracing the new camaraderie that is forming between Andrew and your friends. He really needs to meet more people.”
“And you don’t?”
“I don’t what?”
“Need to meet people?”
“Well, it’s different. I have a job where I am always interacting with people. All the time. Often times when I don’t want to be. And, I did just meet you. You are a new person.”
“I am indeed,” she grins. He loves how free she is with that. It happened far too little, the last few years in Sunnydale.
“Andrew is afraid of meeting new people, I think. He… well, he had some problems with betrayal from his best friend. Then there was an… incident. With another friend. And so he clings to the friends he has, which currently are me and Knox. He has a job in a Forbidden Planet – actually, he manages a Forbidden Planet” (and no, Xander is not jealous. He’s not) - “but he does seem to keep to himself.”
“I gotcha. And there is the crush he has on you.”
Xander chokes on his beer. Not because it is a surprise – he is perfectly capable of seeing the glaringly obvious even with one eye and, according to Dawn, riverside property on De Nile – but because he really, really doesn’t want Andrew or, God forbid, William the Sawyer, to hear. He quickly looks around and notices that Andrew is actually flagging down Will and shifts his way closer to the bar. Because he wants to hear what Andrew has finally chosen, of course. And not because he wants to look at the tanned and toned man slinging drinks.
He elbows a spot for himself and Cindy in time to hear “We’re having problems deciding between the Banana or Piná Coladas or the Strawberry Daiquiri. Do you have a preference?”
Will offers a friendly smile and grabs a metal canister from behind the bar. “I would suggest the Daiquiri,” he says and sprays a line of pink foam across his index finger. He offers the finger to Dana who gives it a quick glance before shyly licking the cream off. After she gets over her initial embarrassment her eyes light up. “It’s strawberry!” she exclaims and all at once Stan and Andrew are asking for samples, too. Smiling, Will sucks the remaining cream off his own finger, an unconscious move that makes Xander’s breath catch, and then motions for the other men to hold out their fingers as well. Xander can’t help asking “What? Boys don’t get to suck?” and then feels all of the blood rush to his face. Stupid mouth, not consulting with his brain before speaking. Another familiar smile, this time with a hint of tongue peeking out behind white, white teeth. Suddenly Xander is lightheaded.
This is so wrong. He can’t be flirting, no matter how unintentionally, with this Spike-like guy. For one thing? Guy. Also? Date. Two very good reasons for not feeling the dizziness that has him clutching the bar. And the sudden snugness of his pants. This is bad.
His body turning like a snake, Will glides towards Xander and stops in front of the nearly hyperventilating man. Wordlessly, he runs another line of the whipped cream down his finger, never breaking eye contact – he must wear lenses. No one’s eyes are that blue – and then offers the finger. To Cindy.
Xander smiles with relief he didn’t expect to feel and offers a weak laugh. It is cut off, though, when Will’s hand is suddenly maneuvering Xander’s so that his own index finger is being sprayed with a thick line of the strawberry cream. He holds Will’s eyes as he brings the finger to his mouth and sucks on it (and no, this isn’t flirting. It is showing appreciation through eye contact. And possibly a moan. ). He pulls his finger from his mouth, suddenly aware of the eyes riveted on him and Will, and clears his throat, licking the remnants of the sweet, stickiness from his lips. In a husky voice, he asks “Did I get it all?” and like it’s an invitation, Will is suddenly leaning forward and licking a small dollop of cream from the corner of Xander’s mouth.
This isn’t happening. Can’t be. Twelve hours ago he was on the beach checking out tits behind his sunglasses and chatting up a pretty brunette with red streaked hair. Now there is mouth lickage with the identical twin of a vampire he used to hate. The parts just don’t add up. Einstein wouldn’t have been able to figure out the math.
Will pulls back, just enough and looks at Xander with a very open gaze. So open, in fact, Xander can easily read the “I want to take you over this bar right now, and make you my good little bitch” in his eyes.
Xander thinks he wants to be Will’s bitch.
Before Xander can even begin to process - Spike. Tongue. Mouth. – the other man is pulling back and grinning at him. No. Grinning at something just over his right shoulder. Before Xander can follow Will’s Right. Will. Not Spike gaze Will:
- Grins
- Looks over at another bartender
- Engages in a complex dialogue consisting of various heat tilts and exasperated glances
- Blows the bartender a kiss
All of this while wile within six inches of Xander’s face. Xander’s still stuck on Spike. Tongue. Mouth.
Will catches Xander’s eye again saying “Be a mate and watch the bar for a mo. I’m going to take a spin with Alice” before hopping over the bar (very unsexy). After a minute, Xander turns and sees Will usher the redhead from the beach (Alice? Who the fuck is Alice?) onto the dance floor. They are soon lost in the swell of gyrating bodies.
Xander continues to watch the spot where Will disappeared until he feels a tap on the back of his shoulder, followed by a smack upside the head. Turning towards Cindy, the smacker, he asks “What the hell was that for” and gets a nod towards the bar.
“She’s been tapping you on the shoulder for, like, the last two minutes.”
“Huh? Oh,” he eloquently replies, turning to the annoyed looking woman behind the bar.
She speaks with a heavy Russian accent, and that coupled with the leather pants and silver F*C*U*K bustier frightens Xander. Slightly.
“Are you planning on getting back here any time soon? The natives are thirsty.” he thinks she says. Xander gives her an odd look mentally replaying Will’s request. Shit. He’s supposed to tend bar?
“Is that legal?” He asks, not sure he wants to be in closer proximity to the Mistress of Pain.
“I have a fucking crowded bar and I’m short a bastard. Get back here.”
His shirt is being tugged – hard – and he quickly does his own, less graceful hop, to the other side of the bar.
“Serve up to the taps. If you have any questions, figure it out. If in doubt, over charge.” And then he is alone, facing a rambunctious crowd headed by a laughing Cindy and a gaping Andrew.
The next twenty minutes continue in a blur of complicated drinks and surprisingly plentiful tips. He spares a brief moment to not thank his old boss who turned the patrons into cavepeople and in no way prepared him for whatever the hell it is he’s doing now. But there is actually money on the bar that is intended for him, and he’s even gotten a few numbers.
Will returns sweaty and disheveled with Alice nowhere to be seen allowing Xander quickly makes his way to the right side of the bar.
The night continues like that. Xander and Cindy dance and drink and occasionally Xander finds himself behind the bar again while Will takes another blushing girl for a spin.
He has to admit that – randomly being put to work aside – he is having a really good time.
When there’s a lull at the bar, Will comes over to chat with them; catching up with Cindy, humoring Andrew and, let’s face it, flirting with Xander. At one point, while Cindy is off on the dance floor with Andrew and her friends, Will runs a finger down Xander’s cheek, then along the band of his patch.
Will: Fashion statement or necessity?
Xander: Actually, in my free time I like to sail the high seas, pillaging any boat that dares cross my path and making time with many a toothless wench.
Will, chuckling: Of course. So, if I were to lift up the patch, what would I see?
Xander: Umm, an eyelid covering the gaping hole where my eye once was?
Will, intrigued: Really? Huh. How’d that come about?
Xander: Got in a fight.
Will: Ah. But I should see the other guy?
Xander, with a wry smile: I am the other guy.
That makes Will laugh, and it’s good, because people have a tendency to freak out when they hear he lost his eye in a fight. They have also been known to end a conversation and high tail it in the other direction. It’s gotten to the point that he makes answers up more often than not. Rare disease, construction accident, evil seagull, they all garner a better response. He likes to use the evil seagull one at the beach and then look around like he expects the bird to be following him, waiting for him to drop his guard so it can take his other eye. At least when people back away slowly it is because Xander manipulated the scenario. Granted, it has occasionally backfired. One guy started talking to him in a low voice about how the gulls were actually trained by the government to keep tabs on the populous. He invited Xander to join his yahoo group where he could learn about many other fun and exciting conspiracies that were being perpetrated right under his nose.
It was nice to be the one to back away slowly for a change.
But points to Will for not assuming the worst, at least out loud.
The night goes quickly. Between the Bass and the occasional tequila shot Xander’s got a nice buzz going and he finds himself flirting more consciously with Will.
Will’s shift ends around two thirty. Xander feels a pang of regret that he might never see the guy again, but shoves it aside. Before he leaves he stops to talk to Xander and Cindy and there’s. . . something, the way he glances at Xander, like he’s trying not to be obvious about it that sparks a ball of warmth in his stomach.
Will gives Cindy a kiss good-bye and turns to Xander, leaning in so their lips are just inches apart. Before anything like a kiss can happen, though, he turns to whisper a soft “See you soon” in Xander’s ear, and then pulls back with a slightly wicked grin.
Xander can see Cindy is tired so he thinks maybe it’s time for them to head out as well. He looks for Andrew and is surprised to find him in the middle of the dance floor going nuts to a techno remake of children’s commercials. Xander never, ever thought he’d witness people bumping and grinding to “My Little Pony”.
Andrew, Stan and Dana decline his offer for a ride. When they start shrieking at Monchi-chi jingle starting up Cindy and Xander grab their things and run for the door.
*****
A Brief Interlude - aka What the Fuck?
It is a little past three when they pull up in front of Cindy’s building. Xander: ever the gentleman. And his gentlemanly duties included driving his date home. Of course, in this case, Xander doesn’t think he could operate a pair of pliers, let alone a ton of fiberglass and steel, so he gentlemanly accompanies Cindy in her cab, figuring he can just continue on after he drops her off. He holds the door for Cindy, asking the cabbie to stay there with the meter running while he walks her up. Mr. Cabbie is actually okay with this. Nice guy. Probably evil.
When they reach her door, Cindy turns to him with a big smile, “I had a wonderful time tonight, Xander.”
He smiles in return and boasts, “Of course you did. I’m an exceptional date.”
“And modest, too,” she jabs with a smile of her own.
“Well, I was thinking of going with self-depreciating charm, kind of a Hugh Grant thing, but I just wasn’t feeling it.”
Cindy’s knowing look is kind of frightening and Willow-like. Crap. “Ahh. And does this giddy confidence have anything to do with the pretty boy you were flirting with all night?”
“Andrew isn’t pretty,” he dodges, because if he doesn’t talk about it, it won’t be true. “And I sure as hell don’t flirt with him.”
She responds Summers-style with an eye roll and a light punch to the arm (Dawn Summers style, he mentally amends. Even Buffy’s light punches bruise).
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh. Will?” he continues on with what he hopes look like naive innocence. “That wasn’t flirting, that was guys being guys.”
“He slapped your ass.”
“That’s definitely a guy thing. A lot of guys do that,” he argues. Of her disbelieving look he elaborates. “Professional athletes. Well, football players. And. . . porn staaaalright. Athletes. It was a ‘good job tending bar’ slap. Not an ‘I want you to be my sex-monkey’ slap.”
“You practically made out.”
“What!” And now Xander is a bit freaked because Cindy sounds so, so sure, and he knows he was drunk, but he didn’t think he was that drunk. He is pretty sure he’d remember if there was kissing. Especially if it was kissing a guy. Especially if said guy looked like Spike.
Cindy is probably out of her mind. What a relief.
“I may be slightly – slightly – drunk, but I know there wasn’t kissing.”
Another eye-roll, and Cindy turns to unlock her door, tossing over her shoulder, “he licked your mouth.”
Okay, there’s that.
“But that wasn’t really anything. Really. You sucked his finger. That’s like . . . a metaphor. Only, well, kind of literal. Maybe he’s just a licker. Maybe he licks everyone he comes in contact with. Maybe it’s an English thing. Like the French. Just licking mouths instead of kissing cheeks. He probably wanted to lick me good-bye as well but slapped my . . .” and behold Super Xander, able to make a bad situation even worse.
He sighs at the look she gives him from the open door then steps up to her and places a chaste kiss on her lips.
“See,” he steps back. “That’s a kiss.”
“Whatever. You totally want him. Call me. We can go out this week and figure out how to get you in his pants.”
“You know, I just met you today.”
“And thank god you did. The way your mind is currently working, you’re never going to get laid.”
Before he can respond she flashes a grin and he gets a face full of door.
He lets his eye glaze over for a few moments then shakes himself out of his stupor. Glances at his watch, notices it’s about three-thirty and gives a brief word of thanks that tomorrow is Sunday. He shoves his hands into his rear pockets and leans back, stretching. Frowns and straightens when he feels something foreign in his left hand.
Removing the rectangular object, he stares at the glossy black and gray F*C*U*K card, wondering if he actually might be losing his mind as he has no recollection of picking it up.
He distractedly runs his finger over the embossed letters then absently flips it over, still wondering where it came from.
The answer is printed neatly on the back in what he thinks is silver paint pen. The address of one Will Sawyer.
Beneath it, in an elegant chicken scratch is the caption “If you’re ever bored . . .”
A honk from outside snaps him out of his fugue-like state and he has an “Oh Shit” moment when he realizes the cab has been waiting for close to ten minutes. He hustles down the three flights of stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and distractedly gives Mr. Nice Cabbie the address as he slumps into the seat.
He closes his eye and tries to think about anything that isn’t his conversation with Cindy or the card burning a hole in the pocket he hastily shoved it in.
Xander thinks he must have fallen asleep when, a few short minutes later, the cabbie announces their arrival. Sitting up and reaching for his wallet, Xander looks around and pauses.
“Um. This isn’t where I live.”
“This is the address you gave me,” and the tone is dry as Mr. Sarcastic Cabbie reads the street and building number off his clip board.
Oh Fuck.
The Hook-up
The door is a disappointment. No skull and crossbones, no sign hanging above it proclaiming “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. It isn’t even painted like the album cover of Never mind the Bullocks. Just a plain door, an unfortunate sea-foam green, with “3D” (heh) etched above the peep hole.
It’s terrifying in its normality.
Xander stops and wonders just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Its 3:40 in the morning, and he is standing in front of the apartment of a man – and he really tries not to dwell on that concept – he just met that evening, for what he thinks is a bootie call. And not Will’s first, judging from the giggles of the stoned yuppies that let him into the building. The evening is officially beyond surreal. Even Hellmouth surreal.
He takes a deep breath and prepares to knock. It’s quiet inside, but that doesn’t mean anything. His hand hovers above the door and then drops back to his side. He takes a few more deep breaths and feels himself getting light-headed. While he isn’t exactly sure what Will expects, he’s fairly certain it isn’t Xander passed out on his doorstep come morning.
Finally, he sucks it up and knocks. Three sharp raps. Non-committal. Loud, but not too loud (he hopes). And then he takes a rather large step back from the door and waits, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eye looking everywhere but where Will may or may not appear. It’s highly nerve-wracking, this wait, and he is just about to turn around and high-tail it out of there when he hears a dead bolt turn and the door is pulled open - about three inches.
There is a curse and the door is slammed shut again only to be opened about four seconds later, this time after the chain lock has been released.
Xander doesn’t say anything - can’t say anything. Will is standing in front of him in a pair of half buttoned jeans, stifling a yawn. His right hand runs over his face and then through his hair and rests on the back of his neck as he finally looks up and sees Xander.
He doesn’t say anything, which Xander is almost grateful for. Just steps back and holds the door open wider, invitation implied. Xander takes a deep breath and steps through, wondering if he is really awake, and here and if he looks okay. Standing in the entryway to Will’s place and looking around, he takes in the décor. Ah, there’s the “Never Mind the Bullocks” poster, framed and resting on top of an overfull bookcase.
He gets a sense of the place and decides that it’s similar to his own - comfy, and maybe a little bigger, though size doesn’t matter and Jesus god why on earth did he think that now? He panics when he hears the door shut and lock behind him, and turns around to see Will staring at him, a small, unassuming smile on his lips.
Xander decides now would be a good time to do what Willow does best in potentially awkward situations.
He babbles.
“This is a nice place you have here,” he starts, a hint of mild hysteria in his voice, looking everywhere Will isn’t. “It’s comfy. Kind of like my place, though bigger, but size doe-“ and thankfully, he cuts himself off before he can actually finish the thought. Christ.
He tries again. “So, it’s a great neighborhood. Is this place rent controlled? I was looking for rent control when I first came to the city, but I didn’t know where to look and even with the connections I kind of have I ended up in a small place that actually isn’t all that far from here. Not waking distance . . .” and he keeps going, wondering why the hell he hasn’t shut up.
Will looks amused now. He takes a step towards Xander and whose words finally trail off, thank the gods. One more step and Will is now face to face with Xander, seriously invading personal zones. Still smiling he tilts his head a bit and places a small, chaste kiss on the corner of Xander’s mouth.
He pulls back, just far enough to look Xander in the eye, and breathes in a faint gasp when Xander’s tongue peeks out to taste the kiss. But he doesn’t do anything else, and Xander knows that Will is giving him control.
Suddenly this is easy.
His hand comes up to rest on Will’s cheek, and he leans forward to softly brush his lips across the other man’s. A little more pressure, but still light, and Will doesn’t push. He barely pulls back, because there is suddenly an intimacy he doesn’t want to lose.
“Hey,” he breathes into Will’s slightly parted mouth.
“Hey,” Will breathes back, and then they are kissing for real. They keep it slow, taking time to learn each others mouths. Hands come into play, while they nip at each other; sucking on lips, rubbing scratchy cheeks against each other. The hand that isn’t on Will’s cheek strokes up and down his bare back, while Will’s come up between them, stroking Xander’s chest, finally resting lightly on either side of his neck, his fingers playing with the soft hair at his nape.
The intensity grows. Will pulls back, leaving both of them panting with arousal, then ducks back in, this time claiming Xander’s mouth, teasing with his tongue until Xander can’t help but open under the assault. Neither can stop the groans that escape as their tongue’s meet for the first time, and suddenly Xander is very much aware of how this is affecting Will; affecting them both.
Xander’s hands slide slowly to Will’s ass, seemingly of their own accord, and cup around the tight curves hidden under the denim. He scratches lightly over the rough material and then pulls Will close, so that their erections are pressed securely together.
The first spark of friction is unbelievable. Any control either are exerting is shattered at the connection. Will backs Xander into a wall and grinds his hips against the larger man’s. The kissing becomes frantic and messy, bites becoming harder, tongue’s more demanding and Xander has no idea how he is still standing, still breathing. The only thing he knows is that he is going to come embarrassingly quickly, but there is no way he can stop moving, feeling Will’s cock moving against Xander’s matching rhythm while his hands dig into his hair holding him in place but god it’s exactly where Xander wants to be.
And just when Xander thinks that he has passed the point of no return, the point where he would have resigned himself to coming in his pants like a teenager, if he had the capacity to think, where he can stop and not explode, his arms are suddenly empty, and the delicious friction, that had him gasping and panting like a porn star, is gone.
He can’t even begin to hide the moan of loss that escapes his lips, and he looks up to see why the magical sensations are gone.
“Wha . . .” he starts, but stops to clear his throat, and tries again, his voice husky with desire. “Is everything alright?” Xander knows that there is a smidge of insecurity in his voice - some things never change- but he doesn’t care because he is pretty sure Will was enjoying himself, too, and he can’t figure out why he stopped.
“Sorry,” Will gasps, trying to catch his breath, and reestablish some control. “I just . . . needed a second to cool down.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
They smile at each other, both slightly stunned at the connection they both felt. Xander slumps against the wall (and with a quick glance notices that is it next to the kitchen entrance. There is a short hall to his left which Xander assumes leads to the bedroom, and he stores that tidbit of information into the “will be useful later” file in his brain). He turns back as his breathing steadies and looks at Will, noticing the other man is still taking long calming breaths while his hands clench compulsively by his sides. He looks positively debauched and Xander’s eye zeros in on Will crotch where his cock is jutting out of his jeans, the head soaked with pre-come that is slowly ribboning down what Xander can see of the length.
He can’t help himself. The renewed arousal slams into him at warp speed, and in one step he drops to his knees, yanking the denims down Will’s hips and engulfing his erection to the root. Xander hears Will’ s loud “Fuck!” followed by what sounds like a hand slamming onto the table against the wall of the entryway while the other suddenly tangles in his hair, and he smiles around the more than a mouthful.
He belatedly realizes that he has no idea what he is doing, having never been in this position before, so he slowly pulls back, until just the tip is left and then takes Will’s cock in again. He hears a loud moan from above and echoes it. When Will’s hips jerk at the added vibrations he moans again, this time completely unintentionally, but he can’t help it. His level of excitement is now in the red, and he begins to speed up trying to take a little more each time he sucks Will in. His hands, which have been resting on Will’s ass, holding him in place, come into play, one reaching up to skirt over Will’s right nipple while the other gently pulls his balls. Xander is aware of the steady stream of “Oh fuck yes. Xander so fucking hot, fucking sweet. Xander suck me; take me fucking yes…” coming from Will and when he dares to look up, he sees Will’s face twisted in pleasure, the muscles in his arms and neck clenched with his struggle to keep control.
Still looking up, Xander squeezes Will’s balls, getting the other mans attention. When their eyes are locked, and Xander - who is now lightly sucking the head and licking the sensitive underside - sees that Will is more or less aware, he goes in for the kill, sucking in Will’s cock, hard, while a finger slides back to roughly stroke Will’s perineum. His free hand pinches at the first nipple it can find, and with a shout, Will comes, violently shooting into Xander’s mouth and Xander wants to take it all, swallow every drop, but there is so much and it is so fast that come drips out of the corners of his mouth, onto his chin, shirt, his jeans.
Before he finishes swallowing, Will is on his knees, claiming Xander’s mouth while roughly pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his painfully tight pants. Xander helps get it off and tosses it . . . somewhere, while Will’s left hand dives into Xander’s jeans and shorts and firmly grasps the screaming erection.
Xander gives a tight, harsh yell at the friction finally bestowed upon his aching dick and uses a hand to undo the button and zipper, giving Will maneuvering room. The other man shows his appreciation by releasing Xander’s mouth and kissing his way up to Xander’s ear, trailing his tongue along the shell before nipping at the lobe. He continues to work Xander’s sensitive cock while is mouth moves down his neck and Xander realizes that Will is most likely going to return the favor and reaches out, blindly, to stop him. The way Xander is feeling, the only thing Will is going to get is a face full of come. The thought is so sudden and so hot that Xander screams out at the force with which the orgasm hits, desperately searching until he finds Wills mouth and attacks it, plunging his tongue into the wet, soft entry and letting Will devour the sounds of his pleasure.
It’s seems to go on forever, his dick played expertly by Will’s talented hand, drawing out the pleasure until Xander is whimpering into Will’s mouth, tears stinging his eyes from the glorious fucking sensations.
They come down together, and when Xander can think clearly again he takes stock of the situation. They are both clinging to each other, still mouthing shoulders, faces, arms, and necks, whatever they can reach. They’re on their knees, and they are still in the front hall.
Thank God Will had the presence of mind to shut the front door, he thinks and breaks into giggles. Startled, Will looks up from where he is sucking Xander’s chest, confused, his eyes still in a post-sex haze. He’s gorgeous and, still laughing, Xander wraps an arm around him and kisses him full on the mouth with a loud *smack*.
The haze clears from Will’s eyes, and he looks down, at Xander’s jeans, still open, his plaid boxers bunched up at the fly, and his own pants that never managed to make it further than mid-thigh.
Then he’s laughing too.
Their laughter just encourages the other until they are both gasping for air, almost delirious with the unexpected joy of good sex in a foyer. Xander, still wrapped around Will, eventually falls, landing on his back, with Will half on top of him, and the laughter continues, but there is now kissing, and Xander isn’t surprised to feel Will’s erection firming up against his hip. He’s feeling like he could go a few more rounds himself. In a few minutes.
Will eventually pulls back, resting his forehead on Xander’s chin while he catches his breath. Then, with what sounds like a Herculean effort, he rolls off of Xander until they are lying next to each other, sides pressed together so they don’t lose too much contact.
“So,” Xander starts, conversationally. “How are you?”
Will, who is tracing patterns on Xander’s thigh, chokes out a chuckle. “I won’t say I didn’t have any seduction in mind, really, when I slipped you the card. But I’m fairly certain I wasn’t thinking ‘Now that’s a guy I want to shag in my entryway’”.
“Really. That’s interesting, because the moment I saw you I thought that you had hall sex written all over you.”
“Funny.” He pauses and Xander turns his head a fraction so he is staring at Will’s familiar profile. It’s a nice profile to have. Another thought to stick a pin in.
“Hey, here’s a question,” Will begins. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased you’re here, but is there a reason you thought to drop by at,” he tilts his head so he can see the clock on the microwave “four o’clock in the bloody morning? Or is that when you usually drop in on friends?”
“Well, I don’t know. You spend the better part of the evening flirting with a guy, and then find his card in your pocket, you think bootie call. It’s the way things are done.”
“Uh huh. Silly me, then.”
They both lapse into comfortable silence, still softly touching each other. Will suddenly sits up to get his jeans the rest of the way off and blindly throws them in the direction of the bedroom as he lays down again.
“So,” he asks, after more time has passed. “Where exactly did you learn to give head like that?”
“Mmm? Oh. Head? I didn’t. I mean, I haven’t. Like that. Given head. Or, in English, I haven’t given head before. At least, not to a guy.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Congratulations, you’re my first.”
“You’ve never gone down on a bloke?”
“Never gone up on a bloke. Never been with a man.”
“But that Andre-”
“Please, dear God don’t finish that thought. Andrew is Andrew. He’s like my . . . I have no idea. He’s like my annoying but not terribly bad guy friend who hangs around a whole hell of a lot and occasionally makes mocha-chip squares.” He rolls onto his side, so he can look at Will’s face in the dim light from the bedroom. “So, until today, tonight really, I have never been inspired to get groiny with a guy.”
“Well, hell. Aren’t I the special one.”
“Yup,” he pops the ‘P’, the pauses and continues a bit hesitantly. “So it was okay? I mean the blow job. The giving of head.”
Will looks at him, terribly serious, and says “Well. I think you could use some practice. Often. A few times a day, really. And I volunteer to help.”
Xander smiles, leaning in to kiss the smirking lips, “How terribly,” a kiss, “altruistic,” another one, a little longer “of you.”
“I’m all about making sacrifices”
They’re kissing again, their cocks both coming back to life, eager for another chance to play.
Will suddenly pulls away- again- and Xander gives a grunt of sexually fueled exasperation.
Will smiles, standing up and holding out a hand to Xander to haul him to his feet. “I actually have a very comfortable bed. And it’s not all that far from here. So maybe,” he grabs Xander’s other hand and starts to walk backwards, drawing one of Xander’s hands to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. “Maybe we could try that this go round?”
Xander uses their joined hands to draw Wills arms around his neck then runs his hands down the naked man’s arms, to finally rest at his hips. Still walking toward the now visible goal of the bed in a tangle of limbs Xander leans in and deeply kisses the smirk off Will’s face.
Will spins them; guiding Xander toward the bed, until he feels the back of his knees hit the mattress. He is gently pushed back and then Will is climbing over him, crawling up to meet his mouth in a heated kiss.
*****
Afterglow
“Tell me about this Spike.”
They’re laying in bed, well fucked, the both of them. Xander wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t walk for a few . . . years. With the feeling sexually sated and all, Xander isn’t sure he’s up to any conversation, especially this one, but there's something in Will's voice that is . . .odd. A touch beyond idle curiousity, so Xander complies.
“He was a jackass. A bastard of the highest magnitude. There are few people on this planet I disliked more than Spike. One person,” he reconsiders. “Maybe two.”
And he has to stop and take a moment because it’s been over a year and he still hasn’t heard anything. He stopped by their place – once, when things were getting bad - to tell them to leave town, but his dad wouldn’t listen: “Arrogant little shit thinks he can tell me what to do? I don’t owe you a damn thing. Steal my money with that sham wedding then disappear? If anything you owe me. I could have lost my membership, all those freaks tearing up the lodge. And who do you think had to pay for the repairs?”
He had left then. Taken his mother aside and begged her get out; to leave him if she had to. She said she’d think about it. That was the last time he saw them.
So yeah. There are two people higher up on his shit list than Spike. One might be dead. The other already is, and running an evil law firm.
“But you wanted him.” It’s a statement, and it shocks the hell out Xander, effectively banishing any morose thoughts he’s having about his mom.
“I- what? Why? Wha- um, I mean, what on earth would make you think that?”
Will raises an eyebrow and gestures to his naked self and Xander can understand how Will might have come to that conclusion.
“I hated him,” Xander states, voice flat. “He fucked my ex-fiancée. He tried to rape my best friend.”
“I can see why you’d find him so attractive.” God that sarcasm is so damn familiar.
Xander continues, emotion leaking into his voice despite his best efforts. “But that’s that the worst of it. Not even close. He was so horrified by what he had done to Buffy – my friend-” he clarifies, “that he left. Tried to redeem himself. And when he came back he was. . . He was wrecked. Don’t get me wrong; he deserved every second of it. But how can you hate a guy in that much pain?” As he says it he realizes it’s true. He didn’t hate Spike. Not at the end. He didn’t like him, but Christ; he sure as hell didn’t hate him.
Xander sighs and continues, “And it’s not like I don’t have any black marks against me. I left the love of my life at the alter. Before that, I cheated on my high school girlfriend with my best friend.”
“Buffy,” Will interjects.
Xander gives a dry laugh. “No, Willow. She’s gay now.”
“Must be contagious,” and off Xander’s confused look, gestures to himself again, smirking. It takes a minute but then Xander catches up and laughs. It helps to break the tension that has built up.
“How,” Will asks, and Xander replies “Well, there was this guy, Oz, and he and Will were dating. But-“
“No,” Will cuts him off. “How did the jackass- Spike. How did Spike redeem himself?”
And now Xander is stuck. He hasn’t really thought about that part. What is he supposed to say to him? This guy in Spike’s clothing who is innocent of all of all the supernatural crap that Xander has known since he was sixteen?
To brush off the question – offering Will an “It’s not important” – would be an insult to Spike. They guy sacrificed himself, his life, to save the world. He got a soul and became a better man.
Xander rubs his eye and drags his hand down his face, trying to come up with a suitable answer. He listens to the silence of the room. His heart has stopped its post-orgasm thudding, his breathing is back to normal and the quiet in the room is absolute. It is too early for the birds to be up, and too late for there to be any real activity on the street below the bedroom window.
Will’s voice is barely a whisper. But the words are like a cannon shot in the stillness of the room.
“He went to Africa. He got a soul.”
*****
In other news,
I still don't have a title. And it is ultimately a Spike/Xander story, despite what you may read. I have to confess, though, I'm not all that pleased with the second part of the second half of "The Club". I have literally been trying to finish the damn scene months and finally at lunch today I just wrote. I am going to rework it and tweak it, I think, because I couldn't fucking end it, but nothing major. This is still unbetaed, so you can have fun counting the grammatical errors and laughing at the many misspellings not caught by spell-check or my countless rereadings.
Anyway, you can find the first two parts here.
Rated R. Spike/Xander. Post Chosen. Still not mine. James Marsters is hot. I would love it if you would comment on anything you liked, didn't like, didn't understand or anything just so I know if I'm making sense and stuff. This is my first non-one off fic and I am a wee bit stressed about it.
Anyway, the fic:
When we left young Xander, he had seen a Spike-a-like on the beach and used his connections to W&H to finagle his way onto the list at the club where he (Spike) works. Xander was just about to confront the probably-not-a-vampire-anymore-because-he-didn't-burst-into-flames-on-the-beach-person-thing-Spike.
Xander feels like it is taking years for Spike to reach them. Time has slowed down in that surreal way it has when you are pretty sure something profound and life changing is about to happen. He just wishes it would just hurry up already.
Spike works his way over and is standing in front of Xander soon enough. This should be interesting.
“Spike.”
The Club- part B
A pause.
“Don’t know what’s in that, mate, but if you give me the ingredients I can mix it up for you.”
He’s more intent the second time. “Spike.”
“What’s a spike?” He asks, confused.
And now Xander thinks something might be wrong, “You. You’re a Spike. William the Bloody?”
“Nooo,” the bartender draws out. “I’m a Will. William the Sawyer?”
“What?”
“Will Sawyer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t a clue,” he delivers with a small grin. “You started it.”
“You aren’t Spike.”
“Nope. You think I’m someone named after a dog?”
“Railroad spike, actually,” Xander mumbles. A thought strikes. “But you have the scar! And the accent! You’re English!” Xander lays down his Trump card like he has just won the game. Blackjack, baby. Uno. Gin.
Unfortunately, his victory is short lived and results not in a “By Gum! You’re right. How clever of you to catch onto my ruse!” or however Spike would say it, but a personalized version of the “Is everybody here very stoned” stare, which truthfully makes Xander feel about as big as a mite. A stoned mite.
And it’s perplexing, because Xander would bet his Babylon 5 collectors edition commorative plates that the man standing before him is Spike; he knows it like he knows the kind of windows you install in any climate- it’s a no brainer.
Except he can tell by the expression on William the Sawyer’s face the he is in no way Spike.
He shakes his head, obviously mistaken and is about to apologize for the mix-up when he hears a validating “Spike!” shrieked from somewhere to his right, and Xander gives a small prayer of thanks that there is two and a half feet of bar and coolers between Andrew and William the Sawyer (and he has to stop thinking of the guy in that way). Xander is pretty sure Andrew would have had no qualms about throwing himself into the bartender’s arms. He lightly hooks a finger into Andrew’s collar just in case.
William, in the meantime, has swung his stoned gaze to Andrew and a hint of what could be dazed fear, or possibly flat out confusion, has entered his eyes as he tries to absorb the rushing stream of chatter flowing from Andrew. “Oh my God! We all thought you were dead! Dawn was hysterical, talking about not being able to make things right between you and everyone was kind of sad because they all treated you badly but Buffy…” And there is a small – flinch? – reaction to the name, so fast that Xander is convinced he imagined it. “…believed in you and she told us and everyone left except me and Xander and…”
Xander cuts him off with a slight tug and when Andrew swivels his head, Xander gives a small shake.
“What?”
“It’s not him.”
“Are you blind? Of course it’s him! Look at him!”
“It’s not, Andrew.”
Andrew cranes his head back towards Will whose stunned expression has turned to one of amusement. He has a small smile playing on his lips, a fraction of an inch away from a smirk.
Xander really doesn’t understand how this can’t be Spike.
The subject of the debate suddenly looks around, aware that he is actually working and should probably be waiting on the customers, two deep at the bar, most of whom are starting to look a bit restless.
He speaks. “Yeah. Look, what’ll you have?”
“Huh,” Xander asks, eloquence personified.
“To drink? From the bar?” Will holds up a bottle of vodka and swishes it in front of the men.
Xander jerks into awareness and, remembering that he is actually here on a date, turns to Cindy to ask what she is having. She gives Not-Spike her order, and Xander overhears them pass a few words about bitch roommates and Malibu.
Will leans across the bar to give her a friendly peck and then, like a pendulum, his gaze swings back to Xander. No… more like a pit and a pendulum. His stomach drops in a not unpleasant way, and he is suddenly, inexplicably, locked into Will’s gaze. There is something familiar there – knowing – and Xander has the sudden and slightly horrifying thought that he would like to kiss this man with the laughing eyes. Kiss him and then do . . . other stuff that he hasn’t actually done before. He shakes his head to clear it from these unsettling thoughts and opens his mouth to order, when Andrew’s thoughtful voice pipes up.
“We’re having some problems deciding,” he begins, gesturing to his ‘dates’. “I was initially thinking that a drink of the mixed variety would hit the spot, but then Stan suggested something frozen, and it is just so hot in here.” He leans thoughtfully on the bar. “What do you have in the frozen department?”
Finally breaking eye contact with Xander, Will glances over to Andrew, eyes widening minutely – unnoticeable, unless you were just staring into them – at the sight of Andrew almost perfectly mimicking Xander’s stance. He shoots a quick look back at Xander, then grins in understanding, which freaks Xander out, as he has no idea what on earth Will could know.
Will grabs a laminated flip book that has different drinks colorfully displayed - one to a page - and hands it to Andrew, his gaze returning to Xander.
“So,” he begins, casually. “What’ll it be?”
He tries to order, but can only croak. Cindy, her own knowing smile firmly planted on her lips, offers him a sip of what ends up being a really fucking strong Long Island iced tea. He almost chokes at the heavy tequila taste, but at least his throat is clear so he can order a Bud.
Will looks at him like he just ordered flaming dog shit.
“What?”
“Come to my bar, accuse me of being someone named after a dog, and then,” Will pauses, apparently struggling to compose himself. “Then, you have the audacity to order American piss water? I think not. You can have a Bass.”
“What?” Xander’s tone is slightly incredulous. “What’s wrong with Budweiser? It is the King of Beers.”
“Yes, it is. In a country that has no actual royalty to speak of. I’d hardly call this country any sort of authority on the Patriarchy. Or hops. Here,” he hands Xander a bottle of Bass. “It may be utter crap, but at least it’s from the right side of the pond.”
To say Xander is stunned would be an understatement. He opens and closes his mouth a few times and then, because he can’t think of a single reply, asks, “I thought Bass was better by the pint. You have it on tap. Why a bottle?”
Yeah. It’s a dumb question. But it’s all he’s got.
“Trust me, mate, you do not want anything that came out of those taps to enter your body. It is possible that they haven’t been cleaned since this place opened.”
Xander grimaces and gives a nod of thanks. Then mentally smacks himself when he realizes that Will is actually staring at him because he is waiting for payment. Embarrassed, he fishes out a twenty and hands it over the bar. Will smiles and quickly makes change.
He darts a quick glance at Andrew and Co. who are now debating the merits of daiquiris versus coladas and then, sensing that they will be a while, moves onto the next customer.
Xander glances toward Andrew, Dana, and Stan who are now lost in their debate. Seeing they are good for a bit, he finally turns back to his date with an apologetic smile.
“So. Not your guy, huh?” Cindy asks with an apologetic smile. “But are you really surprised? I mean, you did say he was dead.”
“I know, I know. And I am surprised. But it’s more that I’m surprised that I’m surprised. If that makes any sense. I’m sorry. I dragged you out on my ridiculous quest-“
“You’re right, you horrible person,” Cindy monotones, cutting him off. “How dare you take me and some friends to a wonderful dinner at a fabulous Cuban restaurant and follow it up with drinks and dancing at one of the hottest nightclubs in L.A.” She smiles and gives him a playful swat on the chest. “I’m having a great time. It seems like everyone is. You are having fun, right?”
Xander’s smile it completely genuine. “I am having barrels of fun. Really. And I am embracing the new camaraderie that is forming between Andrew and your friends. He really needs to meet more people.”
“And you don’t?”
“I don’t what?”
“Need to meet people?”
“Well, it’s different. I have a job where I am always interacting with people. All the time. Often times when I don’t want to be. And, I did just meet you. You are a new person.”
“I am indeed,” she grins. He loves how free she is with that. It happened far too little, the last few years in Sunnydale.
“Andrew is afraid of meeting new people, I think. He… well, he had some problems with betrayal from his best friend. Then there was an… incident. With another friend. And so he clings to the friends he has, which currently are me and Knox. He has a job in a Forbidden Planet – actually, he manages a Forbidden Planet” (and no, Xander is not jealous. He’s not) - “but he does seem to keep to himself.”
“I gotcha. And there is the crush he has on you.”
Xander chokes on his beer. Not because it is a surprise – he is perfectly capable of seeing the glaringly obvious even with one eye and, according to Dawn, riverside property on De Nile – but because he really, really doesn’t want Andrew or, God forbid, William the Sawyer, to hear. He quickly looks around and notices that Andrew is actually flagging down Will and shifts his way closer to the bar. Because he wants to hear what Andrew has finally chosen, of course. And not because he wants to look at the tanned and toned man slinging drinks.
He elbows a spot for himself and Cindy in time to hear “We’re having problems deciding between the Banana or Piná Coladas or the Strawberry Daiquiri. Do you have a preference?”
Will offers a friendly smile and grabs a metal canister from behind the bar. “I would suggest the Daiquiri,” he says and sprays a line of pink foam across his index finger. He offers the finger to Dana who gives it a quick glance before shyly licking the cream off. After she gets over her initial embarrassment her eyes light up. “It’s strawberry!” she exclaims and all at once Stan and Andrew are asking for samples, too. Smiling, Will sucks the remaining cream off his own finger, an unconscious move that makes Xander’s breath catch, and then motions for the other men to hold out their fingers as well. Xander can’t help asking “What? Boys don’t get to suck?” and then feels all of the blood rush to his face. Stupid mouth, not consulting with his brain before speaking. Another familiar smile, this time with a hint of tongue peeking out behind white, white teeth. Suddenly Xander is lightheaded.
This is so wrong. He can’t be flirting, no matter how unintentionally, with this Spike-like guy. For one thing? Guy. Also? Date. Two very good reasons for not feeling the dizziness that has him clutching the bar. And the sudden snugness of his pants. This is bad.
His body turning like a snake, Will glides towards Xander and stops in front of the nearly hyperventilating man. Wordlessly, he runs another line of the whipped cream down his finger, never breaking eye contact – he must wear lenses. No one’s eyes are that blue – and then offers the finger. To Cindy.
Xander smiles with relief he didn’t expect to feel and offers a weak laugh. It is cut off, though, when Will’s hand is suddenly maneuvering Xander’s so that his own index finger is being sprayed with a thick line of the strawberry cream. He holds Will’s eyes as he brings the finger to his mouth and sucks on it (and no, this isn’t flirting. It is showing appreciation through eye contact. And possibly a moan. ). He pulls his finger from his mouth, suddenly aware of the eyes riveted on him and Will, and clears his throat, licking the remnants of the sweet, stickiness from his lips. In a husky voice, he asks “Did I get it all?” and like it’s an invitation, Will is suddenly leaning forward and licking a small dollop of cream from the corner of Xander’s mouth.
This isn’t happening. Can’t be. Twelve hours ago he was on the beach checking out tits behind his sunglasses and chatting up a pretty brunette with red streaked hair. Now there is mouth lickage with the identical twin of a vampire he used to hate. The parts just don’t add up. Einstein wouldn’t have been able to figure out the math.
Will pulls back, just enough and looks at Xander with a very open gaze. So open, in fact, Xander can easily read the “I want to take you over this bar right now, and make you my good little bitch” in his eyes.
Xander thinks he wants to be Will’s bitch.
Before Xander can even begin to process - Spike. Tongue. Mouth. – the other man is pulling back and grinning at him. No. Grinning at something just over his right shoulder. Before Xander can follow Will’s Right. Will. Not Spike gaze Will:
- Grins
- Looks over at another bartender
- Engages in a complex dialogue consisting of various heat tilts and exasperated glances
- Blows the bartender a kiss
All of this while wile within six inches of Xander’s face. Xander’s still stuck on Spike. Tongue. Mouth.
Will catches Xander’s eye again saying “Be a mate and watch the bar for a mo. I’m going to take a spin with Alice” before hopping over the bar (very unsexy). After a minute, Xander turns and sees Will usher the redhead from the beach (Alice? Who the fuck is Alice?) onto the dance floor. They are soon lost in the swell of gyrating bodies.
Xander continues to watch the spot where Will disappeared until he feels a tap on the back of his shoulder, followed by a smack upside the head. Turning towards Cindy, the smacker, he asks “What the hell was that for” and gets a nod towards the bar.
“She’s been tapping you on the shoulder for, like, the last two minutes.”
“Huh? Oh,” he eloquently replies, turning to the annoyed looking woman behind the bar.
She speaks with a heavy Russian accent, and that coupled with the leather pants and silver F*C*U*K bustier frightens Xander. Slightly.
“Are you planning on getting back here any time soon? The natives are thirsty.” he thinks she says. Xander gives her an odd look mentally replaying Will’s request. Shit. He’s supposed to tend bar?
“Is that legal?” He asks, not sure he wants to be in closer proximity to the Mistress of Pain.
“I have a fucking crowded bar and I’m short a bastard. Get back here.”
His shirt is being tugged – hard – and he quickly does his own, less graceful hop, to the other side of the bar.
“Serve up to the taps. If you have any questions, figure it out. If in doubt, over charge.” And then he is alone, facing a rambunctious crowd headed by a laughing Cindy and a gaping Andrew.
The next twenty minutes continue in a blur of complicated drinks and surprisingly plentiful tips. He spares a brief moment to not thank his old boss who turned the patrons into cavepeople and in no way prepared him for whatever the hell it is he’s doing now. But there is actually money on the bar that is intended for him, and he’s even gotten a few numbers.
Will returns sweaty and disheveled with Alice nowhere to be seen allowing Xander quickly makes his way to the right side of the bar.
The night continues like that. Xander and Cindy dance and drink and occasionally Xander finds himself behind the bar again while Will takes another blushing girl for a spin.
He has to admit that – randomly being put to work aside – he is having a really good time.
When there’s a lull at the bar, Will comes over to chat with them; catching up with Cindy, humoring Andrew and, let’s face it, flirting with Xander. At one point, while Cindy is off on the dance floor with Andrew and her friends, Will runs a finger down Xander’s cheek, then along the band of his patch.
Will: Fashion statement or necessity?
Xander: Actually, in my free time I like to sail the high seas, pillaging any boat that dares cross my path and making time with many a toothless wench.
Will, chuckling: Of course. So, if I were to lift up the patch, what would I see?
Xander: Umm, an eyelid covering the gaping hole where my eye once was?
Will, intrigued: Really? Huh. How’d that come about?
Xander: Got in a fight.
Will: Ah. But I should see the other guy?
Xander, with a wry smile: I am the other guy.
That makes Will laugh, and it’s good, because people have a tendency to freak out when they hear he lost his eye in a fight. They have also been known to end a conversation and high tail it in the other direction. It’s gotten to the point that he makes answers up more often than not. Rare disease, construction accident, evil seagull, they all garner a better response. He likes to use the evil seagull one at the beach and then look around like he expects the bird to be following him, waiting for him to drop his guard so it can take his other eye. At least when people back away slowly it is because Xander manipulated the scenario. Granted, it has occasionally backfired. One guy started talking to him in a low voice about how the gulls were actually trained by the government to keep tabs on the populous. He invited Xander to join his yahoo group where he could learn about many other fun and exciting conspiracies that were being perpetrated right under his nose.
It was nice to be the one to back away slowly for a change.
But points to Will for not assuming the worst, at least out loud.
The night goes quickly. Between the Bass and the occasional tequila shot Xander’s got a nice buzz going and he finds himself flirting more consciously with Will.
Will’s shift ends around two thirty. Xander feels a pang of regret that he might never see the guy again, but shoves it aside. Before he leaves he stops to talk to Xander and Cindy and there’s. . . something, the way he glances at Xander, like he’s trying not to be obvious about it that sparks a ball of warmth in his stomach.
Will gives Cindy a kiss good-bye and turns to Xander, leaning in so their lips are just inches apart. Before anything like a kiss can happen, though, he turns to whisper a soft “See you soon” in Xander’s ear, and then pulls back with a slightly wicked grin.
Xander can see Cindy is tired so he thinks maybe it’s time for them to head out as well. He looks for Andrew and is surprised to find him in the middle of the dance floor going nuts to a techno remake of children’s commercials. Xander never, ever thought he’d witness people bumping and grinding to “My Little Pony”.
Andrew, Stan and Dana decline his offer for a ride. When they start shrieking at Monchi-chi jingle starting up Cindy and Xander grab their things and run for the door.
*****
A Brief Interlude - aka What the Fuck?
It is a little past three when they pull up in front of Cindy’s building. Xander: ever the gentleman. And his gentlemanly duties included driving his date home. Of course, in this case, Xander doesn’t think he could operate a pair of pliers, let alone a ton of fiberglass and steel, so he gentlemanly accompanies Cindy in her cab, figuring he can just continue on after he drops her off. He holds the door for Cindy, asking the cabbie to stay there with the meter running while he walks her up. Mr. Cabbie is actually okay with this. Nice guy. Probably evil.
When they reach her door, Cindy turns to him with a big smile, “I had a wonderful time tonight, Xander.”
He smiles in return and boasts, “Of course you did. I’m an exceptional date.”
“And modest, too,” she jabs with a smile of her own.
“Well, I was thinking of going with self-depreciating charm, kind of a Hugh Grant thing, but I just wasn’t feeling it.”
Cindy’s knowing look is kind of frightening and Willow-like. Crap. “Ahh. And does this giddy confidence have anything to do with the pretty boy you were flirting with all night?”
“Andrew isn’t pretty,” he dodges, because if he doesn’t talk about it, it won’t be true. “And I sure as hell don’t flirt with him.”
She responds Summers-style with an eye roll and a light punch to the arm (Dawn Summers style, he mentally amends. Even Buffy’s light punches bruise).
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh. Will?” he continues on with what he hopes look like naive innocence. “That wasn’t flirting, that was guys being guys.”
“He slapped your ass.”
“That’s definitely a guy thing. A lot of guys do that,” he argues. Of her disbelieving look he elaborates. “Professional athletes. Well, football players. And. . . porn staaaalright. Athletes. It was a ‘good job tending bar’ slap. Not an ‘I want you to be my sex-monkey’ slap.”
“You practically made out.”
“What!” And now Xander is a bit freaked because Cindy sounds so, so sure, and he knows he was drunk, but he didn’t think he was that drunk. He is pretty sure he’d remember if there was kissing. Especially if it was kissing a guy. Especially if said guy looked like Spike.
Cindy is probably out of her mind. What a relief.
“I may be slightly – slightly – drunk, but I know there wasn’t kissing.”
Another eye-roll, and Cindy turns to unlock her door, tossing over her shoulder, “he licked your mouth.”
Okay, there’s that.
“But that wasn’t really anything. Really. You sucked his finger. That’s like . . . a metaphor. Only, well, kind of literal. Maybe he’s just a licker. Maybe he licks everyone he comes in contact with. Maybe it’s an English thing. Like the French. Just licking mouths instead of kissing cheeks. He probably wanted to lick me good-bye as well but slapped my . . .” and behold Super Xander, able to make a bad situation even worse.
He sighs at the look she gives him from the open door then steps up to her and places a chaste kiss on her lips.
“See,” he steps back. “That’s a kiss.”
“Whatever. You totally want him. Call me. We can go out this week and figure out how to get you in his pants.”
“You know, I just met you today.”
“And thank god you did. The way your mind is currently working, you’re never going to get laid.”
Before he can respond she flashes a grin and he gets a face full of door.
He lets his eye glaze over for a few moments then shakes himself out of his stupor. Glances at his watch, notices it’s about three-thirty and gives a brief word of thanks that tomorrow is Sunday. He shoves his hands into his rear pockets and leans back, stretching. Frowns and straightens when he feels something foreign in his left hand.
Removing the rectangular object, he stares at the glossy black and gray F*C*U*K card, wondering if he actually might be losing his mind as he has no recollection of picking it up.
He distractedly runs his finger over the embossed letters then absently flips it over, still wondering where it came from.
The answer is printed neatly on the back in what he thinks is silver paint pen. The address of one Will Sawyer.
Beneath it, in an elegant chicken scratch is the caption “If you’re ever bored . . .”
A honk from outside snaps him out of his fugue-like state and he has an “Oh Shit” moment when he realizes the cab has been waiting for close to ten minutes. He hustles down the three flights of stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and distractedly gives Mr. Nice Cabbie the address as he slumps into the seat.
He closes his eye and tries to think about anything that isn’t his conversation with Cindy or the card burning a hole in the pocket he hastily shoved it in.
Xander thinks he must have fallen asleep when, a few short minutes later, the cabbie announces their arrival. Sitting up and reaching for his wallet, Xander looks around and pauses.
“Um. This isn’t where I live.”
“This is the address you gave me,” and the tone is dry as Mr. Sarcastic Cabbie reads the street and building number off his clip board.
Oh Fuck.
The Hook-up
The door is a disappointment. No skull and crossbones, no sign hanging above it proclaiming “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. It isn’t even painted like the album cover of Never mind the Bullocks. Just a plain door, an unfortunate sea-foam green, with “3D” (heh) etched above the peep hole.
It’s terrifying in its normality.
Xander stops and wonders just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Its 3:40 in the morning, and he is standing in front of the apartment of a man – and he really tries not to dwell on that concept – he just met that evening, for what he thinks is a bootie call. And not Will’s first, judging from the giggles of the stoned yuppies that let him into the building. The evening is officially beyond surreal. Even Hellmouth surreal.
He takes a deep breath and prepares to knock. It’s quiet inside, but that doesn’t mean anything. His hand hovers above the door and then drops back to his side. He takes a few more deep breaths and feels himself getting light-headed. While he isn’t exactly sure what Will expects, he’s fairly certain it isn’t Xander passed out on his doorstep come morning.
Finally, he sucks it up and knocks. Three sharp raps. Non-committal. Loud, but not too loud (he hopes). And then he takes a rather large step back from the door and waits, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eye looking everywhere but where Will may or may not appear. It’s highly nerve-wracking, this wait, and he is just about to turn around and high-tail it out of there when he hears a dead bolt turn and the door is pulled open - about three inches.
There is a curse and the door is slammed shut again only to be opened about four seconds later, this time after the chain lock has been released.
Xander doesn’t say anything - can’t say anything. Will is standing in front of him in a pair of half buttoned jeans, stifling a yawn. His right hand runs over his face and then through his hair and rests on the back of his neck as he finally looks up and sees Xander.
He doesn’t say anything, which Xander is almost grateful for. Just steps back and holds the door open wider, invitation implied. Xander takes a deep breath and steps through, wondering if he is really awake, and here and if he looks okay. Standing in the entryway to Will’s place and looking around, he takes in the décor. Ah, there’s the “Never Mind the Bullocks” poster, framed and resting on top of an overfull bookcase.
He gets a sense of the place and decides that it’s similar to his own - comfy, and maybe a little bigger, though size doesn’t matter and Jesus god why on earth did he think that now? He panics when he hears the door shut and lock behind him, and turns around to see Will staring at him, a small, unassuming smile on his lips.
Xander decides now would be a good time to do what Willow does best in potentially awkward situations.
He babbles.
“This is a nice place you have here,” he starts, a hint of mild hysteria in his voice, looking everywhere Will isn’t. “It’s comfy. Kind of like my place, though bigger, but size doe-“ and thankfully, he cuts himself off before he can actually finish the thought. Christ.
He tries again. “So, it’s a great neighborhood. Is this place rent controlled? I was looking for rent control when I first came to the city, but I didn’t know where to look and even with the connections I kind of have I ended up in a small place that actually isn’t all that far from here. Not waking distance . . .” and he keeps going, wondering why the hell he hasn’t shut up.
Will looks amused now. He takes a step towards Xander and whose words finally trail off, thank the gods. One more step and Will is now face to face with Xander, seriously invading personal zones. Still smiling he tilts his head a bit and places a small, chaste kiss on the corner of Xander’s mouth.
He pulls back, just far enough to look Xander in the eye, and breathes in a faint gasp when Xander’s tongue peeks out to taste the kiss. But he doesn’t do anything else, and Xander knows that Will is giving him control.
Suddenly this is easy.
His hand comes up to rest on Will’s cheek, and he leans forward to softly brush his lips across the other man’s. A little more pressure, but still light, and Will doesn’t push. He barely pulls back, because there is suddenly an intimacy he doesn’t want to lose.
“Hey,” he breathes into Will’s slightly parted mouth.
“Hey,” Will breathes back, and then they are kissing for real. They keep it slow, taking time to learn each others mouths. Hands come into play, while they nip at each other; sucking on lips, rubbing scratchy cheeks against each other. The hand that isn’t on Will’s cheek strokes up and down his bare back, while Will’s come up between them, stroking Xander’s chest, finally resting lightly on either side of his neck, his fingers playing with the soft hair at his nape.
The intensity grows. Will pulls back, leaving both of them panting with arousal, then ducks back in, this time claiming Xander’s mouth, teasing with his tongue until Xander can’t help but open under the assault. Neither can stop the groans that escape as their tongue’s meet for the first time, and suddenly Xander is very much aware of how this is affecting Will; affecting them both.
Xander’s hands slide slowly to Will’s ass, seemingly of their own accord, and cup around the tight curves hidden under the denim. He scratches lightly over the rough material and then pulls Will close, so that their erections are pressed securely together.
The first spark of friction is unbelievable. Any control either are exerting is shattered at the connection. Will backs Xander into a wall and grinds his hips against the larger man’s. The kissing becomes frantic and messy, bites becoming harder, tongue’s more demanding and Xander has no idea how he is still standing, still breathing. The only thing he knows is that he is going to come embarrassingly quickly, but there is no way he can stop moving, feeling Will’s cock moving against Xander’s matching rhythm while his hands dig into his hair holding him in place but god it’s exactly where Xander wants to be.
And just when Xander thinks that he has passed the point of no return, the point where he would have resigned himself to coming in his pants like a teenager, if he had the capacity to think, where he can stop and not explode, his arms are suddenly empty, and the delicious friction, that had him gasping and panting like a porn star, is gone.
He can’t even begin to hide the moan of loss that escapes his lips, and he looks up to see why the magical sensations are gone.
“Wha . . .” he starts, but stops to clear his throat, and tries again, his voice husky with desire. “Is everything alright?” Xander knows that there is a smidge of insecurity in his voice - some things never change- but he doesn’t care because he is pretty sure Will was enjoying himself, too, and he can’t figure out why he stopped.
“Sorry,” Will gasps, trying to catch his breath, and reestablish some control. “I just . . . needed a second to cool down.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
They smile at each other, both slightly stunned at the connection they both felt. Xander slumps against the wall (and with a quick glance notices that is it next to the kitchen entrance. There is a short hall to his left which Xander assumes leads to the bedroom, and he stores that tidbit of information into the “will be useful later” file in his brain). He turns back as his breathing steadies and looks at Will, noticing the other man is still taking long calming breaths while his hands clench compulsively by his sides. He looks positively debauched and Xander’s eye zeros in on Will crotch where his cock is jutting out of his jeans, the head soaked with pre-come that is slowly ribboning down what Xander can see of the length.
He can’t help himself. The renewed arousal slams into him at warp speed, and in one step he drops to his knees, yanking the denims down Will’s hips and engulfing his erection to the root. Xander hears Will’ s loud “Fuck!” followed by what sounds like a hand slamming onto the table against the wall of the entryway while the other suddenly tangles in his hair, and he smiles around the more than a mouthful.
He belatedly realizes that he has no idea what he is doing, having never been in this position before, so he slowly pulls back, until just the tip is left and then takes Will’s cock in again. He hears a loud moan from above and echoes it. When Will’s hips jerk at the added vibrations he moans again, this time completely unintentionally, but he can’t help it. His level of excitement is now in the red, and he begins to speed up trying to take a little more each time he sucks Will in. His hands, which have been resting on Will’s ass, holding him in place, come into play, one reaching up to skirt over Will’s right nipple while the other gently pulls his balls. Xander is aware of the steady stream of “Oh fuck yes. Xander so fucking hot, fucking sweet. Xander suck me; take me fucking yes…” coming from Will and when he dares to look up, he sees Will’s face twisted in pleasure, the muscles in his arms and neck clenched with his struggle to keep control.
Still looking up, Xander squeezes Will’s balls, getting the other mans attention. When their eyes are locked, and Xander - who is now lightly sucking the head and licking the sensitive underside - sees that Will is more or less aware, he goes in for the kill, sucking in Will’s cock, hard, while a finger slides back to roughly stroke Will’s perineum. His free hand pinches at the first nipple it can find, and with a shout, Will comes, violently shooting into Xander’s mouth and Xander wants to take it all, swallow every drop, but there is so much and it is so fast that come drips out of the corners of his mouth, onto his chin, shirt, his jeans.
Before he finishes swallowing, Will is on his knees, claiming Xander’s mouth while roughly pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his painfully tight pants. Xander helps get it off and tosses it . . . somewhere, while Will’s left hand dives into Xander’s jeans and shorts and firmly grasps the screaming erection.
Xander gives a tight, harsh yell at the friction finally bestowed upon his aching dick and uses a hand to undo the button and zipper, giving Will maneuvering room. The other man shows his appreciation by releasing Xander’s mouth and kissing his way up to Xander’s ear, trailing his tongue along the shell before nipping at the lobe. He continues to work Xander’s sensitive cock while is mouth moves down his neck and Xander realizes that Will is most likely going to return the favor and reaches out, blindly, to stop him. The way Xander is feeling, the only thing Will is going to get is a face full of come. The thought is so sudden and so hot that Xander screams out at the force with which the orgasm hits, desperately searching until he finds Wills mouth and attacks it, plunging his tongue into the wet, soft entry and letting Will devour the sounds of his pleasure.
It’s seems to go on forever, his dick played expertly by Will’s talented hand, drawing out the pleasure until Xander is whimpering into Will’s mouth, tears stinging his eyes from the glorious fucking sensations.
They come down together, and when Xander can think clearly again he takes stock of the situation. They are both clinging to each other, still mouthing shoulders, faces, arms, and necks, whatever they can reach. They’re on their knees, and they are still in the front hall.
Thank God Will had the presence of mind to shut the front door, he thinks and breaks into giggles. Startled, Will looks up from where he is sucking Xander’s chest, confused, his eyes still in a post-sex haze. He’s gorgeous and, still laughing, Xander wraps an arm around him and kisses him full on the mouth with a loud *smack*.
The haze clears from Will’s eyes, and he looks down, at Xander’s jeans, still open, his plaid boxers bunched up at the fly, and his own pants that never managed to make it further than mid-thigh.
Then he’s laughing too.
Their laughter just encourages the other until they are both gasping for air, almost delirious with the unexpected joy of good sex in a foyer. Xander, still wrapped around Will, eventually falls, landing on his back, with Will half on top of him, and the laughter continues, but there is now kissing, and Xander isn’t surprised to feel Will’s erection firming up against his hip. He’s feeling like he could go a few more rounds himself. In a few minutes.
Will eventually pulls back, resting his forehead on Xander’s chin while he catches his breath. Then, with what sounds like a Herculean effort, he rolls off of Xander until they are lying next to each other, sides pressed together so they don’t lose too much contact.
“So,” Xander starts, conversationally. “How are you?”
Will, who is tracing patterns on Xander’s thigh, chokes out a chuckle. “I won’t say I didn’t have any seduction in mind, really, when I slipped you the card. But I’m fairly certain I wasn’t thinking ‘Now that’s a guy I want to shag in my entryway’”.
“Really. That’s interesting, because the moment I saw you I thought that you had hall sex written all over you.”
“Funny.” He pauses and Xander turns his head a fraction so he is staring at Will’s familiar profile. It’s a nice profile to have. Another thought to stick a pin in.
“Hey, here’s a question,” Will begins. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased you’re here, but is there a reason you thought to drop by at,” he tilts his head so he can see the clock on the microwave “four o’clock in the bloody morning? Or is that when you usually drop in on friends?”
“Well, I don’t know. You spend the better part of the evening flirting with a guy, and then find his card in your pocket, you think bootie call. It’s the way things are done.”
“Uh huh. Silly me, then.”
They both lapse into comfortable silence, still softly touching each other. Will suddenly sits up to get his jeans the rest of the way off and blindly throws them in the direction of the bedroom as he lays down again.
“So,” he asks, after more time has passed. “Where exactly did you learn to give head like that?”
“Mmm? Oh. Head? I didn’t. I mean, I haven’t. Like that. Given head. Or, in English, I haven’t given head before. At least, not to a guy.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Congratulations, you’re my first.”
“You’ve never gone down on a bloke?”
“Never gone up on a bloke. Never been with a man.”
“But that Andre-”
“Please, dear God don’t finish that thought. Andrew is Andrew. He’s like my . . . I have no idea. He’s like my annoying but not terribly bad guy friend who hangs around a whole hell of a lot and occasionally makes mocha-chip squares.” He rolls onto his side, so he can look at Will’s face in the dim light from the bedroom. “So, until today, tonight really, I have never been inspired to get groiny with a guy.”
“Well, hell. Aren’t I the special one.”
“Yup,” he pops the ‘P’, the pauses and continues a bit hesitantly. “So it was okay? I mean the blow job. The giving of head.”
Will looks at him, terribly serious, and says “Well. I think you could use some practice. Often. A few times a day, really. And I volunteer to help.”
Xander smiles, leaning in to kiss the smirking lips, “How terribly,” a kiss, “altruistic,” another one, a little longer “of you.”
“I’m all about making sacrifices”
They’re kissing again, their cocks both coming back to life, eager for another chance to play.
Will suddenly pulls away- again- and Xander gives a grunt of sexually fueled exasperation.
Will smiles, standing up and holding out a hand to Xander to haul him to his feet. “I actually have a very comfortable bed. And it’s not all that far from here. So maybe,” he grabs Xander’s other hand and starts to walk backwards, drawing one of Xander’s hands to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. “Maybe we could try that this go round?”
Xander uses their joined hands to draw Wills arms around his neck then runs his hands down the naked man’s arms, to finally rest at his hips. Still walking toward the now visible goal of the bed in a tangle of limbs Xander leans in and deeply kisses the smirk off Will’s face.
Will spins them; guiding Xander toward the bed, until he feels the back of his knees hit the mattress. He is gently pushed back and then Will is climbing over him, crawling up to meet his mouth in a heated kiss.
*****
Afterglow
“Tell me about this Spike.”
They’re laying in bed, well fucked, the both of them. Xander wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t walk for a few . . . years. With the feeling sexually sated and all, Xander isn’t sure he’s up to any conversation, especially this one, but there's something in Will's voice that is . . .odd. A touch beyond idle curiousity, so Xander complies.
“He was a jackass. A bastard of the highest magnitude. There are few people on this planet I disliked more than Spike. One person,” he reconsiders. “Maybe two.”
And he has to stop and take a moment because it’s been over a year and he still hasn’t heard anything. He stopped by their place – once, when things were getting bad - to tell them to leave town, but his dad wouldn’t listen: “Arrogant little shit thinks he can tell me what to do? I don’t owe you a damn thing. Steal my money with that sham wedding then disappear? If anything you owe me. I could have lost my membership, all those freaks tearing up the lodge. And who do you think had to pay for the repairs?”
He had left then. Taken his mother aside and begged her get out; to leave him if she had to. She said she’d think about it. That was the last time he saw them.
So yeah. There are two people higher up on his shit list than Spike. One might be dead. The other already is, and running an evil law firm.
“But you wanted him.” It’s a statement, and it shocks the hell out Xander, effectively banishing any morose thoughts he’s having about his mom.
“I- what? Why? Wha- um, I mean, what on earth would make you think that?”
Will raises an eyebrow and gestures to his naked self and Xander can understand how Will might have come to that conclusion.
“I hated him,” Xander states, voice flat. “He fucked my ex-fiancée. He tried to rape my best friend.”
“I can see why you’d find him so attractive.” God that sarcasm is so damn familiar.
Xander continues, emotion leaking into his voice despite his best efforts. “But that’s that the worst of it. Not even close. He was so horrified by what he had done to Buffy – my friend-” he clarifies, “that he left. Tried to redeem himself. And when he came back he was. . . He was wrecked. Don’t get me wrong; he deserved every second of it. But how can you hate a guy in that much pain?” As he says it he realizes it’s true. He didn’t hate Spike. Not at the end. He didn’t like him, but Christ; he sure as hell didn’t hate him.
Xander sighs and continues, “And it’s not like I don’t have any black marks against me. I left the love of my life at the alter. Before that, I cheated on my high school girlfriend with my best friend.”
“Buffy,” Will interjects.
Xander gives a dry laugh. “No, Willow. She’s gay now.”
“Must be contagious,” and off Xander’s confused look, gestures to himself again, smirking. It takes a minute but then Xander catches up and laughs. It helps to break the tension that has built up.
“How,” Will asks, and Xander replies “Well, there was this guy, Oz, and he and Will were dating. But-“
“No,” Will cuts him off. “How did the jackass- Spike. How did Spike redeem himself?”
And now Xander is stuck. He hasn’t really thought about that part. What is he supposed to say to him? This guy in Spike’s clothing who is innocent of all of all the supernatural crap that Xander has known since he was sixteen?
To brush off the question – offering Will an “It’s not important” – would be an insult to Spike. They guy sacrificed himself, his life, to save the world. He got a soul and became a better man.
Xander rubs his eye and drags his hand down his face, trying to come up with a suitable answer. He listens to the silence of the room. His heart has stopped its post-orgasm thudding, his breathing is back to normal and the quiet in the room is absolute. It is too early for the birds to be up, and too late for there to be any real activity on the street below the bedroom window.
Will’s voice is barely a whisper. But the words are like a cannon shot in the stillness of the room.
“He went to Africa. He got a soul.”
*****
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-12-16 03:12 am (UTC)PS I'll be in NYC for the retrial, let's try to hook up!
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Date: 2003-12-16 10:00 am (UTC)Let me know when it'd be good for you to meet up! Yay! Saucy's in the hiz-ouse.