Title: Good Guy, Bad Guy: A Spike And Xander Adventure
Authors: cordelianne and reremouse
Warnings: Whirling Dervishes
Summary: In a post-Chosen, post-NFA, non-comic canon compliant world, Xander's working with the Council and Spike's working with Angel. Somehow they keep running into each other.
Xander whirls through the crowd whilst the crowd applauds the Whirling Dervishes.
His whirl is definitely less whirl-like and more stumble-like with a side of oh-god-where-did-my-slayer-go panic.
As luck would have it, he slams right into her.
And did he say luck?
It’s definitely not luck, it’s pure slayer skill when Cigdem shoves him to the ground and grabs the blade inches before it reaches his neck.
Definitely a close shave.
Xander chuckles inappropriately while Cigdem kicks some demon ass.
“What?” She stands over the now dead demon, her head cocked.
“It’s okay.” Xander coughs to stop the laughter and sends thanks to whoever decides these things that this slayer knows some English. “Just – thanks. For saving me.”
She shrugs and scuffs the ground.
He nods at her bleeding arm. “Is there somewhere we can go to patch you up?”
When there’s a knock-knock on Cigdem’s door an hour later, Xander’s not even a little surprised about who’s there.
No surprise either when he becomes Xander’s second patient of the night.
Xander wouldn’t even be surprised if those Red Rectangle guys are responsible.
It’s that kind of night in Konya.
Of course there is a big clue in the form of a cloth-covered something at Spike’s feet that squishes creepily when Xander pokes at it.
Xander’s more than happy to keep not finding out what’s behind the curtain.
“Is this even necessary?” He winds the bandage around Spike’s arm. “Aren’t you like a super quick healer?”
Spike raises an eyebrow. “Don’t like playing nurse? Bet you’d look cute in white.”
Xander opens his mouth and closes it again. No way is he going there.
“Cat got your tongue?” Only Spike can make that question sound dirty. The artful spread of his legs and the leer on his face don’t help.
Xander rolls his eye. “You’re not that irresistible, you know.”
“That so?” A finger runs along Xander’s arm.
Xander tries to suppress a shudder as he pats a bandage into place. “I’ll have you know that I run across lots of hot guys in my travels. Lots.”
An arm encircles his waist and pulls him in between Spike’s legs (thankfully well clear of the package). “Monks don’t count.”
“How did you –?” But Xander has some dignity.
Key word being some.
Enough for token protests, but clearly not enough to stop himself from gasping and pressing into Spike when he’s shown just how talented Spike can be with one hand.
“The slayer…,” he manages.
“Is snoring,” says the vamp with eerily good hearing.
Xander still pushes away. “I have a hotel room.”
Spike’s on his feet and pulling Xander out of the door before he even gets to the second syllable of ‘hotel.’
The next morning Spike rolls over. “So,” he says between puffs of nicotine, “end of the world.” As if they’re continuing a conversation they’ve been having all along.
It’s all Xander’s brain will do right now.
Spike just traces his finger back and forth between Xander’s nipples.
Xander tries to get his brain to work.
It takes a while, but it gets there.
Xander props his head up and stares down at Spike’s face, looking for clues. “When should –?”