It Began In Paris

"Paris Hilton!"

"Not so sure I want you to finish that thought, pet." Spike looked warily from the newspaper to Xander. "Not on page three, are you? Already seen her tits."

"No; stay with me here, Spike."

"It's not another sex tape, is it? If you want to make a sex tape, we can always steal the little geek's video recorder and go at it."

"No!" Xander paused. "Okay, emphatic yes, but also no. We'll come back to that thought. Paris Hilton."

"Are you going somewhere with this, luv, or have you developed a bizarre stutter?"

Xander jabbed a finger at the newsprint. "No. Whole new worlds of dumb. She lives in New York, right?"

"If you say so, luv. Only cared about her for the fifteen minutes it took to sneak into Red's dorm and download the porn. Bloody disappointing, that."

"Yeah, it was kinda, wait, you downloaded porn on Willow's computer?"

"Didn't you?"

"No!" Xander looked off to the side. "Okay, I downloaded it on Anya's computer, but that's not the point! The guy who wrote her biography for her congratulated her for it being number five on the Wall Street Journal's book list, and pause to ponder the wrong of that statement, and she asked him 'what's the Wall Street Journal? Is that good?' End quote, and wow."

"Right. That's bleeding stupid, and I shagged Harm. I know from bleeding stupid."

"And Drusilla?"

"Now, now, pet, won't have you speaking ill of my sire. Dru was never stupid. Wasn't quite on the same page as the rest of us, but never stupid." Spike considered this a moment. "Well, except maybe the way she kept opening her legs for her sodding 'Daddy,' but who didn't?"

"Ew, Spike."

"It's different for vamps, pet. Owe your sire and your sire's sire and all that lot the proper obedience. They say spread, and you say 'how wide, Sire?'"

"World of wrong, fang boy. Wait. Are you saying that you? You and Angel?"

"What, you think he kept me around for my sparkling personality? Where do you think I learned that maneuver with the-"

"Stop! Right there." Xander held up a hand, dropped the paper, and hauled Spike into his lap. "There is only room for one vampire in my bed, got it?"

"Yeah. Peaches takes up a lot of space these days, and your bed's good for cuddling up, but sod-all else, really."

"And I am so not imagining being the filling in a naughty vampire sandwich."

Draping his arms over Xander's shoulders, Spike looked pointedly down into Xander's lap. "You sure about that, pet?"

"Do not question the ways of the Little Xandman, Spike. For he is naughty and prone to the very scary delusion that imminent death is a great time for sex."

"Can't think of any time better."

"Now."

Spike considered. "Right. Now sounds good. Could be talked into mmmm. That's not talking, pet."

"Want me to stop?"

"Stop and I'll rip out your spleen."

"I love it when you sweet talk."