Title: Good Guy, Bad Guy: A Spike And Xander Adventure
Authors: cordelianne and reremouse
Warnings: Juggling, stalking and confusion.
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.
It’s not a surprise.
Not even a little one.
Of course Spike is standing underneath a lamppost across the street from Xander’s London flat.
Of course it’s only been three days since they saw each other in L.A.
Now, what is a surprise is that he knows Xander’s here.
’Cause here isn’t even technically Xander’s flat.
Not even close to technically what with it being Giles’ and all. Xander crashes here when he’s in town.
Xander had never credited Spike and Angel with much brains between them – bookishness doesn’t fit with the brooding and/or violent vamp image – but he is impressed they found him this quickly.
Someone they work with knows how to research anyway.
He files that under ‘details of Spike's evil plans I don't need to think about right now,’ and opens the window and calls out, “'I think we're kind of past the stalking phase in this relationship. So are you going to come inside?”
There’s a shrug. A cigarette is tossed away.
Xander interprets that as ‘yes’. Possibly a reluctant ‘yes’ with a side of ‘still sulking.’ He’s just happy to break the single white maling behavior.
Spike breezes in like he lives here. Apparently vamp rules aren’t too sticklery about how an invite is given.
Xander files that under ‘remember for later, it could save your life.’
“Beer?” He tries the hosting thing.
Spike rejects the hosting thing. “Not when Giles has the good stuff.” He roots around the cupboards until emerging with an expensive looking bottle (hidden behind the pots, no wonder Xander didn’t know it was there) and a triumphant smile.
He ponders objecting, just for appearances, but can’t be bothered.
Xander sticks with beer and lets Spike work on polishing off alcohol that Giles has likely saved for a special occasion.
And that’s enough guilt for one night. Xander switches off his brain and switches on the TV.
They watch twins juggle on Britain’s Got Talent.
The silence between them stretches filled with the occasional polite applause.
The longer it goes, the more Xander finds that his words have wandered off somewhere that’s far from here.
It’s weird. They’ve never watched TV together or done anything remotely this close to domestic. Plus, he’s dying to know why Spike’s here, what he’s up to.
But he doesn’t have the guts to actually suck it up and ask.
At least that’s par for the no-ask-no-tell course.
Or maybe he just needs more alcohol.
When he gets up for another beer, Spike’s head jerks to face the TV.
When he flops down, Xander angles himself so that he can see Spike better. Aha! Spike is studying him. And frowning. Xander’s not sure what to make of any of this.
He doesn’t get the chance.
Spike is right in front of him, his face close enough that the smell of scotch is strong. His eyes dart over Xander’s face, his hands cup Xander’s chin.
Xander feels surrounded.
And unsure. Also confused. Add in a little perplexed too. Stir and let simmer.
Maybe Spike’s feeling that way too ’cause he gives a small shrug.
And now Xander can say with confidence that Spike definitely knows what he wants. The yanking up of Xander, turning him around and bracing his hands on the couch is a clue.
The hard dick against his ass? Also a clue.
A good clue.
As Spike shoves down Xander’s pants he thinks, Do I want to have sex on Giles’ couch?
“Maybe we should –”
“Shut up,” Spike says. More like commands in a harsh voice.
Somehow that just turns Xander on more.
He decides to go with the brain off approach.
Go with the fucking on Giles’ couch.
’Cause the fucking is definitely something they do.
And do well. Very well.