Spike was
not the researchy type. Not because he was a vampire, or because he couldn't be
bothered, or because he'd rather be the muscle all the time. On the contrary,
his abilities to calmly think through problems and to relay valuable
information were, well, invaluable. He was not a stranger to a book either;
even with bleach blonde hair, black nail polish and cold eyes, having a book or
just a few pieces of paper in his hand seemed somehow to fit him. The real
problem was that Spike's patience never lasted past a few pages.
Back in
Spike's B.S. time-- Before Soul, that is-- Spike would much rather have lounged
about or prowled around to sniff out danger, related or not. And it wasn't as
though a soul and a bit of humanity had made him any more patient. But for some
reason, when the situation was dire and called for it, Spike could make it
through whole chapters and sometimes whole books before resulting to pacing
around or going out for a smoke.
And if
Xander had really bothered to think about it-- really think about it-- he would have discovered the change
coincided not with Spike's partial Shanshuian-prophecized humanity but with the
time he and Spike had become something of an item.
Though Xander
didn't put much thought into that particular matter, he did think about Spike
frequently. When Spike was around, he could not take his eyes off him. He
watched hungrily, taking in every bit. Mostly, he did it unconsciously. But
sometimes, especially when Spike was doing something like researching, Xander
was well aware of how he just sat and watched.
Spike sat back
in the chair, a large volume held up with both hands and tilted at a convenient
angle. One leg was stretched out on the chair beside him and beneath the table,
and the other was bent normally except that his foot was not flat on the floor;
only the toe of his boot touched it. His eyes traveled from left to right over
the lines, studying the words as intently as Xander was studying him.
What Xander
should have been studying was invisibility. A few of the slayers had run into
demons who seemed to be able to weave in and out of existence. The good news
was, they couldn't harm anyone or make contact with anything when invisible.
The bad was that they appeared out of nowhere with their slimy antennae and
pincer hands that could snap a head clean from its body in two seconds flat. Not
that they'd bothered to whip out a stopwatch while fighting and retreating to
time the destruction. There were all sorts of possibilities, from phasing in
and out of dimensions to magically charmed objects but the only thing they'd
been able to discover through research was that none of the books listed this
as an ability inherent to this particular breed of demon. Which only meant
dividing up the books among willing parties and doing more research at their
respective residences.
"You'd
think we'd do less research now that
our ranks have grown," Xander commented, trying to look interested in the
biography of some long-dead barren who supposedly had been able to turn his
most annoying subjects invisible at will. It seemed to have worked well for
him, apart from the fact that he had a very short temper and no way to make
them visible again. The whole kingdom had died out within a week and the barren
had fallen on his own sword in grief. Or stupidity. Possibly both. Xander was
pretty sure this wasn't the key to the whole thing and he automatically turned
the page of one of the ten books scattered across the table while still gazing
at the researchy Spike, all thoughtful-looking.
After a few
moments, Spike lifted his head, gazing over his own book unfocusedly. Xander
cocked his head, watching curiously. Spike's eyes narrowed slightly and he bit
his lower lip for a brief moment before it slipped out from between his teeth.
Otherwise, he was completely immobile, his face showing concentration and
intense thought.
Xander
wondered what it was Spike was thinking about. Had he found something
interesting and was considering the ramifications? Was recalling some related
incident of his distant past? Or was he just thinking? Xander wanted to know.
He felt that if he could just reach out and touch Spike-- press his fingers to
that smooth, pale skin-- he might somehow understand what was going on inside
the vampire's mind.
His
expression made Xander wonder if that was how Spike had looked in his pre-vamp
days, selecting words for a poem. Of course he wasn't going to ask that, as he
was relatively sure Spike wouldn't want to be reminded of that. But he couldn't
just let that expression go without commenting. "Spike," he said with a bit of
a chuckle. "Do--"
"Shut it,"
Spike said, letting go of the book and holding his hand up to quiet Xander. The
hardcover volume slammed down onto the table but he didn't flinch. Not with
attitude, just with insistence. He kept staring forward, unblinkingly, as
seconds ticked away. Finally, he gave a sigh and shook his head with
frustration. "Felt a sneeze comin' on all afternoon." He scrubbed the back of
his hand and wrist against his nose while moving his mouth about forming shapes
but not words as he tried to wiggle his nose into either sneezing or ceasing to
tickle.
Neither
happened. "Bloody Hell!" He sniffed
hard, then sighed deeply, dropping his hands into his lap and, conveniently,
between his spread legs.
Xander frowned
sympathetically. "Sometimes it helps to go look at the..." He stopped himself
before stupidly saying 'sun'. "At a bright light."
"Tried that
already," Spike said, eyeing him for what was very nearly suggested. The tickle
in his nose was too distracting to allow him to linger on the comment, however.
He lifted his hand and vigorously rubbed two fingers beneath his nose. "Tried
everything but I..." His voice died off and he froze again. His eyes narrowed
slightly. His nostrils flared briefly. But then his shoulders sank and his head
bowed. "Bugger!" He rubbed harder at his nose as though trying to draw the
sneeze out with the touch. His leg bounced up and down restlessly. He seemed
stiff and tense, every move seeming overly strong and sharp.
"Hey..."
Xander said, his voice calm and soothing as he scooted his chair around the
table, closer to Spike. "Calm down, okay? Flesh-eating zombies and demons'
sacrifices you can handle but a sneeze gets the better of you?"
"I can fight zombies and demons," Spike
muttered. He tried pinching his nose and holding his breath. But he finally let
his breath out with an agitated sigh and dropped his hands again.
Xander
decided it was time for action. He needed to do something to calm Spike down a
little. Plus he had to admit Spike looked rather attractive like that, with all
his energy put into concentrating on a sneeze, and with his face frozen
expectantly halfway between loose and tense.
So he laid
his hand on Spike's knee to keep it from bouncing. And then it inched up the
vampire's thigh. It came close to his crotch but veered away at the very last
second and slid his fingers in-between Spike's. They squeezed each other's
hand, and Xander took that as a sign he could move in closer. And though he
wanted to go straight for Spike's lips-- so bright and lush against the pale
skin-- he veered off course there as well and went for a spot just at the end of
Spike's jaw and just beneath his right ear. He gave a few snuffly, nuzzly
kisses, with tongue and breath and his own skin warm against the inhumanly
lukewarm that was Spike.
Then he
moved his kisses upwards, lingering against those exceptionally strong cheekbones
on his way to the lips. But as he went for the kiss, his mouth already open to
meet Spike's parting lips, Spike pulled back and snapped his head to the side.
"H'TChhtttttt!" Even after all the
rubbing at his nose, Spike hadn't moved his hand to cover. He sneezed freely,
the spray light and directed away from Xander. His whole body relaxed with
relief when it was over. He rubbed a single finger beneath his nose but every
movement he made seemed casual and flowing. Normal again. Or at least as normal
as he ever was. Then he turned his head back and cocked it slightly, examining
Xander's expression for a change.
Xander had
watched the sneeze out of the corner of his eye, but had been preoccupied. One
sneeze almost always led to two. And from two it was only a short hop to
twenty. Thus, Xander had scanned the room instinctively. Instead of baddies
lurking in the shadows, he was in search of options. There was a box of tissues
in every room, but the one in the kitchen was all the way across the room on
top of the microwave. Much closer was the roll of paper towels above the sink.
And closer than that, albeit rougher and rather weak, were napkins that sat in
the center of the table, just beyond the books.
"What?"
Spike asked, trying to figure out what Xander was up to.
Xander's
attention returned at once. "Only one this time?"
Spike
sniffed tentatively, then shrugged. "Looks like."
Xander
relaxed. It was hardly ever just one, even though no one had yet been able to
figure out why. Something about the ability to get sick and sneeze mixed with
heightened senses. The point was, one Spike sneeze made Xander as jumpy as
Spike had been a moment ago.
"Harris!"
Xander snapped back to attention again. "Are you going to finish or what?"
"Finish?" Xander
blinked-- or winked, technically-- and looked down at the mountain of uncracked books.
"You mean the research?"
Spike
sighed in frustration. Of course he hadn't meant the research. Spike seized
Xander, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and undershirt 'round the collar. "Sod
the research. M'bored." He pulled Xander up and pushed him down onto the table
on top of the books and papers. "'Sides, books are far more interesting like this,"
he insisted, pinning Xander down and kissing him good and proper while shoving
his thigh in-between Xander's legs.