NOTHING
IS FOREVER 14
by
flaming
muse
When he was asleep, Xander liked to spread out. He had hated it when Anya used
to press herself up against him for warmth instead of letting him sprawl in
whatever position was most comfortable. He had a big bed because he liked his
space.
When he was waking up or falling asleep, on the other hand, Xander
liked to cuddle. There was nothing better than curling around a warm body and
drifting in blissful semi-consciousness. He used to snuggle with Anya for hours
on the weekends before other concerns, like showers, waffles, and the occasional
rampaging demon with no respect for Sunday mornings, became too pressing to
ignore.
So when Xander began to wake late the next morning, he rolled
toward the center of the bed in search of the lukewarm body he had fallen asleep
with the night before. He reached out an arm and a leg to locate his bed-partner
but found nothing to stop his progress before he reached the opposite edge of
the mattress.
The bed was empty.
Xander sat up, rubbing his eye
and adjusting the band of his patch so that it was no longer digging into his
skin. He didn't hear any noise from the rest of the apartment, nor did he find
Spike during a quick search. Instead he discovered a note on his kitchen
counter.
Couldn't sleep. Maybe breakfast some other
time.
He stared at the words for a minute before shrugging away his
plan of having a lazy - or more adventure-filled - day with
Spike.
This is good. It's sunny out, so Spike would be stuck here all
day, and so would I, because even with the soul I'm not letting him hang
out in my apartment alone. He'd probably mix all my cereals together and draw
rude cartoons on the bathroom mirror with toothpaste. And if I was here,
he'd get on my nerves and drink all my beer and make me wish I could remember
where I put those stakes. So it's definitely better he left. Besides, I never
did get another waffle iron.
After crumpling up the note and throwing
it in the trash, Xander went to shower and get dressed. He'd enjoyed the
previous night, and the note indicated that there might be another time. He
couldn't expect more.
It's not like I even want more, he
thought as he shaved after his shower. I mean, sure, I want more sex. I like
sex. Sex is good. Sex with Spike is great, and, god, five years ago that thought
would never have passed my lips... gone through my brain, whatever. But I don't
want more than that, not with Spike. He's not a waffles kind of guy, except to
put blood on them to make me gag. He's Spike.
He fixed himself
a bowl of cereal, which he ate while watching cartoons and biting back the quips
that ran through his head. He thought fondly to Sunday mornings back when Andrew
had lived with him; debating animation styles and MST3King the worst shows was a
weekly tradition.
Okay, I'm missing Andrew. That's a big flashing sign
that I need a life. He glanced over at the clock. Maybe I should call
Willow and see how things are going over there. Except she'll want to talk about
my love life, and that would be really bad. 'Yes, I kind of am seeing someone.
Well, not so much seeing as having great sex with. No, it's not serious, apart
from the sex. Okay, it's funny but it actually is another demon. He's got
a soul, though, so... No, it's not Angel!' And there's another bad
topic.
Willow had been so enthusiastic about the idea of Xander
flying to England for Thanksgiving that she had managed to convince Angel to
call and offer to pay his way. As his schedule was the problem, not the money,
Xander had declined in one of the longest five minutes of his life. Angel had
barely spoken, and Xander hadn't babbled like that since high school. Willow was
still pouting about him not coming to visit.
So Xander decided that
talking with her wasn't the best idea, and he didn't feel like sitting around
watching TV all day. He turned on his computer to do some work but shut it down
as soon as it had booted. He was feeling full of energy, despite his eventful
night, and he decided to take advantage of his mood and go out.
Boston
had plenty to keep Xander occupied, and, after buying some Christmas presents
for his friends, he had a late lunch in a snooty café on Newbury Street, where
he wrote a long letter to Dawn about the people walking by. She had teased him
in her last letter than he only sent her short e-mails about drywall, so he made
sure to include a long paragraph about the differences between drywall and
plaster and why using products appropriate to the period of the building was so
important in his business. He could almost hear her groaning his name as she
read it.
Out sight-seeing and shopping until late in the afternoon,
Xander picked up a pizza on the way home. He fumbled with it and the bags of
presents over his arm to get to the keys in his coat pocket.
Xander
jumped as a familiar pair of pale hands rescued the pizza box from sliding out
of his grip.
"First with the following and now with the grabbing. Are you
stalking me?" he asked, pulling out his keys. Be cool, he told himself.
Be nonchalant. Pretend Spike waiting outside my apartment isn't making my
heart race, even if he can probably hear it. Fuck. Be cool. "'Cause if
you're going to start going through my garbage I could leave it out for you and
save you the trouble of dumpster-diving. Unless that's part of the
fun."
"Think you've got a high opinion of your rubbish." Spike's
nonchalance blew Xander's out of the water.
"Not really. That's why I
throw it away." Xander opened the door and stepped back to see if Spike showed
any interest in going upstairs with him.
Spike seemed to have that idea
in mind, since he didn't hesitate before walking into the building, still
carrying the pizza.
"That new Bruce Willis movie is on cable," Xander
said, closing the door behind him. "Supposedly it has more explosions than any
other film ever. You interested?" He tried to keep his tone
light.
"What's on the pizza?" Spike asked, following Xander into the
elevator. He cracked open the lid.
Xander's hand slammed down on the top
of the box, and Spike raised his eyebrow.
"It'll get cold. And it's
pepperoni and black olive."
"I'm in."
There was a brief flurry of
activity - putting down bags and coats, fetching plates, beer, a big wad of
napkins - once they got inside of the apartment, and then they both settled on
the couch with the pizza on the coffee table in front of them.
The movie
began with an extended sequence of explosions decimating buildings, cars,
trains, boats, and a lemonade stand, and by the time the opening credits finally
appeared Spike and Xander had polished off the pizza.
"Think there'll be
a plot?" Xander asked, sitting back and kicking off his shoes.
"Nah.
Probably used the money for paying writers to put in extra effects," Spike said.
He pushed his plate out of the way and put his feet up on the table.
"At
least they know what's important."
"Exactly. Who needs writers, anyway?
The dialogue gets in the way of all the destruction."
"And it's not
like... Wait, I thought you were a writer," Xander said.
Spike
choked on his beer and grimaced as Xander pounded him on the back.
"Who
told you that?" he asked between coughs.
"You did."
"I bloody well
didn't!"
"Sure you did," Xander said. "Okay, you were crazy at the time,
but you did. You even wrote a poem for me."
"I did?" Spike eyes were wide
with horror.
"Yeah. You rhymed my name with 'antler.' I always thought
that was a weird choice. I mean, why not 'gander' or 'pander' or, if you wanted
to go with something that might even make sense in a poem about me,
'sander'?"
"I was insane."
"It was still a poem. It rhymed.
Mostly. And you told me you were a poet."
"I was insane," Spike repeated
firmly.
Xander shrugged.
"All I'm saying is maybe you should have
more respect for writers. There could be a struggling poet inside you trying to
get out."
"I bloody well hope not."
Xander paused for a moment,
thinking.
"There once was a builder named Xander, who was great with a
power sander," he said.
"Shut up and watch the movie."
Around
halfway through the film, Xander came back from a trip to the bathroom by way of
the kitchen to find Spike having taken off his boots and sprawled over the
length of the couch.
"Move over," Xander said.
Spike rolled his
head where it rested on the arm of the sofa to look at Xander with steady
eyes.
"There's a chair right over there."
"You're disrupting the
sacred bond between a man and his couch. Move over."
"What're you gonna
give me to make it worth my while?" Spike asked.
"Cookie?" Xander
displayed the bag of chocolate chip cookies he had brought from the
kitchen.
Spike reached for them.
"Nuh uh. Not 'til I get my
couch."
Spike scowled but bent his legs so that he was only taking up two
of the three cushions.
"Cookies," Spike said as soon as Xander was
seated. He held out his hand.
After grabbing a couple for himself, he
handed the package to Spike, who promptly stretched out his legs and settled his
feet in Xander's lap.
"Great. Vampire feet are the perfect addition to
any dessert," Xander said, staring down at them. The bones of Spike's feet
looked surprisingly fragile beneath the thin layer of pale skin, and Xander
found himself wondering if Spike had ever killed people with his
toes.
"At least mine don't smell," Spike said.
"Don't breathe,
then. Or go sit in the chair."
Spike grunted and bit into a cookie. They
quickly settled back into the movie, interjecting their commentary about the
increasingly thin plot.
After trying other options with limited success,
Xander found that the most comfortable place for his hands was on Spike's legs,
and he figured that if Spike didn't like it he could sit somewhere else. Spike
didn't seem to mind, nor did he move a muscle when Xander began to run his hands
without thought along Spike's calves. Enjoying the casual contact, Xander didn't
stop when he realized what he was doing. It had been a long time since he had
spent a quiet Sunday night with a friend.
A friend? Xander
thought, freezing. Without taking his eyes off the screen, Spike nudged him in
the stomach with his toes, and Xander returned to stroking his legs. He's not
a friend. If he were I'd be able to say anything, to ask anything. I wouldn't be
wondering if something will set him off again or if he's going to disappear for
another two years. No, he's just... Spike.
Spike's comments dwindled
as the film progressed, despite the fact that there were plot holes that Bruce
could've driven that exploding tanker truck through, and he didn't move when
Xander turned off the television as the closing credits rolled.
Xander
looked over to see Spike lying with his eyes closed, his body relaxed, and his
lips twisted into a slight smile. Stilling his hands, Xander watched him for a
moment, wondering if the vampire was asleep enough that he could slide out from
under his feet without waking him.
"Don't even think about it," Spike
said, not opening his eyes.
"Think about what?"
"Moving. I'm
comfortable."
"Okay," Xander said. He started to stroke Spike's calves
again.
"Was thinking about you at the restaurant today."
"Yeah?"
He tried for nonchalance again and ended up closer to
child-being-given-a-big-bag-of-candy.
"Thought about you coming into my
office to surprise me."
"Like with balloons and
noise-makers?"
Spike chuckled and shook his head.
"Not that kind
of surprise, you git. I'd be behind my desk, working, and you'd come in and lock
the door behind you. You'd have that look on your face you get when you're hard
and ready."
"I have a look?" Xander asked, his voice slightly higher than
usual. He coughed. He didn't know that he had a look, and he was surprised that
Spike had noticed it even if he did.
"Oh, yeah. It's bloody gorgeous."
Spike grinned wolfishly. "So you'd have that look on your face, and you'd walk
around my desk and jerk my chair out. Then you'd sink to your knees and pull
open my jeans."
"Yeah?" The picture was sharp in Xander's mind, and he
squeezed Spike's legs more tightly.
"And then you'd suck my cock, just
like you did so beautifully last night. Fuck, you've got a gorgeous mouth, and
your hands on me... You'd suck me until I came and then 'til I was hard again.
Wouldn't take long."
"Vampire stamina?" Xander shifted slightly to ease
the pressure that Spike's words were causing.
"Good incentive, because
when I was hard again I could fuck you. You'd gotten yourself ready, so all I'd
have to do was bend you over the desk and slide all the way in. You'd be hot and
tight and pushing back with every thrust. I'd find the perfect angle, and you'd
come without me even touching you."
Xander swallowed, his eyes fixed on
the obvious bulge in Spike's jeans.
"All over your papers? That'd be
messy," he managed to say.
"I bloody well wouldn't care."
"You
might the next day."
"Guess you'd have to come back and take my mind off
of it," Spike said.
Xander thought about that possibility, and then
blinked to try to focus on something other than the enticing pictures running
through his mind.
"So that's what you thought about today, huh?" he
asked.
His eyes still closed, Spike nodded.
"That and why I should
have an executive washroom to wank off in. Had to come here straight after
sunset."
"My bathroom has a lock," Xander said, trying not to grin. "I
won't bother you."
Spike moved so fast that Xander had hardly registered
the vampire's muscles tensing before he found himself pinned to the couch,
Spike's face less than an inch away from his.
"I want to fuck you. Now,"
Spike growled. He kissed him before Xander could open his mouth to
answer.
When Spike let him breathe again, Xander nodded.
"Yeah,
okay," he said, slightly dazed and extremely hard.
Pulling at each
other's clothes, they stumbled into the bedroom, and Xander soon found himself
naked and on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. Spike slid into him
with as little preparation as he could manage and took him hard, holding
Xander's hips still and fucking him thoroughly. Xander came at the first touch
of Spike's hand on his erection, and Spike arched back and followed him into
orgasm.
When Xander had recovered sufficiently to do more than watch the
room spin, he found a clean spot on the sheets and pulled Spike with him. Xander
absently carded his fingers through Spike's tousled hair as they lay curled
around each other.
"You're going to mess up my laundry schedule, aren't
you?" Xander said with a sleepy laugh. "I had this system where I could get by
doing it every other Tuesday, but even I think these sheets have to be
washed."
"Could always get more sheets."
"That's an idea. I
always knew you were smarter than you let on."
"And I always knew you
were smarter than you looked," Spike said, but there was barely any bite to the
words.
Xander grinned and tugged him closer.
"Glad you came over,"
he murmured, already dozing off. He didn't notice Spike moving until the vampire
was already slipping out of his arms.
"You're not staying?" Xander
asked.
No, that wasn't disappointment in my voice. I'm just
annoyed because I was comfortable.
"It's early for me yet," Spike
said, pulling on his jeans. "Got to get back to work."
"Oh.
Okay."
"Thanks for dinner and the shag." Spike shot him a satisfied grin,
and Xander managed a half-smile in return. "Get some sleep. You look
knackered."
"Yeah."
"I'll let myself out. No need for you to get
up."
Xander lay on top of his tangled covers and listened to the front
door shut behind Spike.
I am tired, Xander thought, and
now I can get some sleep. It was nice to have a quiet - except for the noisy
part, which was great, too - night with Spike, but it's not like I wanted him to
stay. It's good. I'm good.
Closing his eyes and relaxing again,
Xander ignored the small but uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of in his
stomach.
