Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or their world.
This is fanfiction and I'm just playing for fun, not making any money.
Summary: Spike's looking for a little comfort... but both
Spike and Wes could do with some healing.
Notes: Written for Katleaf as a holiday gift. Enjoy!
Wesley was
passing the by lab, which he always avoided whenever possible, on his way to
his office. But the sight within caught his attention and he headed inside
instead. Spike stood beside a tray of medical instruments and bandages, trying
to patch himself up without the use of his mirror reflection. He was doing a
poor job of it but apparently had refused help.
"You look
awful," Wesley couldn't help but comment.
Spike
shrugged. "I'll heal." He applied a pad of gauze to one gaping wound and
affixed it there with tape. "I just didn't want to bleed all over the nice
carpet while I healed."
"Did the
Hashlack demon do all that to you?" From what he knew of Hashlacks, they
preferred to use less physical techniques of torture like mind control.
With a
laugh, "No. The big prick's on a power trip right now. Didn't want me along for
the ride. Of course, that didn't stop him from bringing fifty of his nearest
and dearest friends on the Wolfram & Hart SWAT team." Spike looked over his
chest, approving of the rudimentary job he had done. "No, these are all
courtesy of Smurfette."
Wesley raised
an eyebrow. "Really? But we've collected all the data we can. There's no need
to continue testing her, Spike."
"I know,"
he said curtly, and met Wesley's eyes. "But you're not the only one who lost
Fred, you know."
Wesley
watched as Spike put on a tight black T-shirt, pulling it into place. His skin
looked incredibly pale in comparison. "And letting Fred's murderer pummel you
to a bloody pulp makes you feel better about that?"
"Course
not," said Spike, looking away. "But at least it makes me feel something." He
licked his lips and raised his voice, straightening up as he looked past Wesley
towards the door. "Well, well, speak of the Devil. Hullo, Blue. You up for some
more?"
Illyria
swept past Wesley with an easy grace and struck Spike in answer. Taken off
guard, he went flying back a few feet, crashing against the counter and
cabinets.
"Not here," Spike winced. "This is the lab,
not-"
"Your rules
are as insignificant to me as a grain of sand is to an Isildrich." Then those
piercing blue eyes turned from Spike to Wesley. "He is not worth my time. And
neither are you. I should kill you all with my next breath."
"Go ahead,"
replied Wesley, flatly.
She studied
him for a minute more, then decided even that was below her. She left the laboratory
as quickly as she had arrived, and at once Wesley felt compelled to follow her.
However, he headed to the counter to help Spike up. The vampire was slow at
separating himself from the counter, and Wesley assumed it was because of his
injuries... until he saw several needles stuck into Spike's back. "What are
those?"
Spike
noticed them at the same time and winced as he pulled them out, one at a time.
"I dunno... but I'm willing to bet they're not good." Spike wasn't turning blue,
at least not yet, so at least there was that. "Don't feel any different."
Wesley
thought about telling Spike to let him know if that changed... but he didn't need
anything else right now. So he left the vampire there and finally made it to
his office. He opened a template book, called on a volume and suddenly saw
himself staring at a picture of Illyria as she had
looked in a previous body.
*
His eyes
grew tired as he read long into the night. The text on the pages grew so blurry
after a while that he soon couldn't remember which language he was supposed to
be reading it in. Wesley just barely had the piece of mind to take his glasses
off and set them aside before his head sank into a cushion of the couch in his
office and he fell right to sleep.
It didn't
feel like much sleep, though, and he woke up to some unidentifiable loud noise.
A moment later, he took it to be a knock at the door to his office. He waved at
the figure through the window. Wesley didn't know what Spike was doing at work
at this time of night. But whatever the reason, the sooner the vampire was
dealt with, the sooner he could go back to sleep or get back to his books,
whichever his body preferred.
"This place
is downright spooky at night," Spike said to him, as though it explained what
he was doing there. "Back when I was a ghosty, I used to go exploring, but a
place like this has more bad than good to discover."
"Spike?" Wesley
put his glasses back on. "Why are you here at this hour?" He blinked at Spike,
inspecting him more carefully. The vampire wasn't sporting bruises and cuts
this time, but had bags under his eyes and a flush to his nose. "You look
awful."
"Well,
that's just it, you see. With all the mysterious bad stuff that's here, it only
makes sense I run into some." He frowned and his nostrils flared. Then,
gritting his teeth, he pitched forward. "heh-CHIIIIH!"
Wesley sat
up. "Spike... come here." Spike did not hesitate for a moment. He went straight
over and sat down on the couch in the small space between the arm of the couch
and Wesley's body, instead of choosing the other, unoccupied portion of the
couch. And when he shivered a second later, Wesley put a blanket around him. This
wasn't the first time he'd napped in his office, and it wasn't even his only
blanket there. But Spike hugged it tightly around himself until his shivering
stopped.
And then
Spike leaned closer to the man.
And then
Wesley, running completely on instinct, put his arm around the vampire.
They sat in
silence for a few moments. Then Spike sniffed and apparently felt compelled to
explain. "After the poke, a whole bunch of the docs tried to figure out what
the needles were going to do to me. Naturally, I found out without them. hehh-IHSHHH!"
"I'll call
one of the doctors to come in," Wesley offered, tensing up in order to reach
for the phone.
Spike shook
his head. "I'm too tired, Pet. I haven't got a fever or cough. Just a little
sniffle and it can wait until Monday."
"All right,
but first thing in the morning..." Wesley warned, but he trailed off. "Wait, did you
just call me P-"
"h'Chishhh!" It threw him forward,
bending in half at the waist, and he stayed like that. "hehh-CHIHH! Hahh-SHIHH!" Spike shook with each sneeze, and Wesley
rubbed a hand up and down Spike's back. Spike gave one more sneeze "hah-IHShhhhh!" and rubbed his hand
beneath his nose.
"Let me get
you some Kleenex," Wesley said. He rummaged around the drawers of his desk, and
then checked the shelves. He always kept a box around somewhere, but he
couldn't seem to find it. It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall to the
bathroom when he remembered he'd used his last tissue up last week during
another of his breakdowns. They were few and far-between, but every so often
something struck him and he went from dark and completely unemotional to a
total and utter wreck.
Spike was
stretched out on the couch when Wesley returned. The vampire looked tired, but
was also shivering again. Wesley handed down the roll of toilet paper and stood
by the couch. He watched critically as Spike tore off a few squares and tried
to blow his nose. He had the exhaling part right, but the rest wasn't very
successful. And the toilet paper was too thin and flimsy that it tore under the
pressure. Shaking his head, Wesley took his handkerchief out of his back pocket
then sat down on the edge of the couch. He cupped it over Spike's nose and his
eyes alone instructed Spike to blow his nose.
Spike did
so, hesitantly, and with Wes' help he managed all right, apart from ears that
popped a little. Spike rubbed at his ears and closed his eyes, looking
miserable. "Thanks," Spike whispered, self-consciously. "Awful, innit? I
haven't been sick since I was human. Don't think I've quite got the hang of... of
it..." Desperately, Spike reached out and grabbed Wesley's wrist, directing the
handkerchief back towards his nose. "hehh-CHEHHHH!"
All life, or whatever semblance of it the undead had, drained out of Spike as
he collapsed down onto the couch cushions. "Why did I want that fucking
Mountain Dew?"
"Excuse
me?" Wesley looked down at his lap, folding the handkerchief tactfully.
"I'd
forgotten the miserable parts of mortality. Who would want this?"
"I thought
you said this was just a little sniffle." Wesley smirked, meeting Spike's eyes.
"Like hell
it is," Spike replied, rubbing his nose. "But I didn't want you calling in the
docs yet. Wanted... some time alone with you... Pet."
One of
Wesley's eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise.
One of
Spike's hands left the folds of the blanket to reach out towards Wesley's
crotch.
Wesley did
not pull away, but he stayed tense. "Why would you want that?" Which translated
to 'why would you want me?' Spike's hand found a bulge in Wesley's trousers and
rubbed expertly. He leaned forward a little and nuzzled his face into Wesley's
hip. "Spike... I'm not..."
Spike
stopped and looked up, his eyes wide. "You can't tell me you're not a poof."
Wesley
loosened up just a smidgen through a small smile. "I prefer not to think of
sexuality as something with such strict labels."
"In that,
we agree." Spike resumed rubbing.
But Wesley
shook his head. "Right now, I'm not exactly in a place where-"
"Bugger
that," Spike said, smiling as though that were the most clever pun ever
imagined. "You trying to tell me you're dark and depressed and just a little
bit on the side of crazy and obsessed right now?" he asked.
Wesley
nodded... and Spike grinned.
"That just
so happens to be my type, Pet." His fingers mastered Wesley's belt buckle,
button, and zipper.
Wesley was
just about to say something he would later regret, like how sweet and just a
little bit vulnerable was his type. But then Spike was doing such absolutely
amazing things to him. More than a century of experience showed in his
technique. Especially his tongue. Oh, the things that tongue did.
With Spike
congested, the vampire had to breathe through his mouth, which made the process
much more interesting. And even when Spike happened to sneeze on him, Wesley
felt nothing but arousal. Wesley hadn't felt that since...
"You know,"
said Wesley. "I always wondered what it would feel like to have a vampire. From
a strictly academic standpoint, of course."
"Of
course," Spike replied. Sniffling, he slowly started to lose his clothes but
was helped out by Wesley. "Vampires are room temperature unless we... borrow some
body heat. hih-EH-" Spike quickly
rolled onto his stomach and directed a sneeze into the couch cushion. "HEH-CHUHH! H'Shihh! Sbeakig of borrowig..."
Spike located Wesley's handkerchief and rubbed at his nose. This time, the
rubbing only seemed to make his symptoms worse. "HAHShuhhh! hehhShihhh! hehh-EhCHIHH!"
Spike was
so busy sneezing that he barely noticed Wesley slide into him. And then that
was all he could notice because he moaned happily and rolled his hips. He went
to drop the handkerchief onto the floor, but Wesley took it back and tucked it
away in a pocket for future use.
Wesley was
amazed at the cool but tight sensation around his dick, as he thrust in and
out. And even more amazed at how quickly Spike's body warmed to him. It made
Wesley want to go harder, faster. He had an arm stretched out along the back of
the couch, and his lower legs and knees dug into the couch cushions beneath
him. His eyes were focused on the pale body, gyrating, succumbing, taking in
all of Wesley and still wanting more. Spike sniffed and coughed and eventually
made a several sounds to convey his rising desire. But Wesley had absolutely no
intention of making it easy for Spike.
It went on
for so long that Wesley began to be concerned that the building would be
swarming with lawyers before they finished. At least that would give the
employees something to see...
But,
thankfully, there was no risk of being walked in on because the impossibly
lengthy session ended when Spike sneezed again, uncovered and to the side, "hehhh-UH-SHAHHH!" And that particular
movement was enough to send Wesley over the edge. Not wanting to be left out, Spike
instantly followed. And the otherwise empty building filled with the sound of
two loud, intense climaxes.
Afterwards,
Wesley separated himself and pulled his shorts and trousers back up. Then he collapsed
on the couch beside Spike in what was a tight fit. Wesley's eyes closed again,
the way they had earlier that night when he had tried to read. He drifted off
to sleep. But he woke only a few minutes later to the sound of Spike sneezing
again.
"Hehshhhh! her-CHIHHH!!"
Wesley
lifted his head and forced his eyes open. "Can't sleep?"
Spike shook
his head. "This bug... my nose won't take a break." He looked around for options
and his eyes fell on the book Wesley had been reading. "That thing can be any
book you want, right?"
An intense
shiver ran up Wesley's spine. He was barely able to nod in the affirmative.
"Could you
read something to me?"
Wesley felt
the tenseness return in his neck and shoulders, and he shuddered as he tried to
force himself to answer that he could not. He could claim to be too tired,
which was at least believable. But he did not get the chance.
"Rupert
never let me near some of his books... and I've always wanted to know what the
writers have said about me."
It was a
curious but understandable request. The days when Wesley had flirted with the
idea of being a rich and famous rogue demon hunter had long since passed. He
found himself reaching for the book despite the slightly sick feeling in the
bit of his stomach. "I can think of a passage or two, if you're sure you can
handle it. Naturally, it won't have anything about you since you regained your
soul, or since you rematerialized here."
"hahh-EH-SHIHH! H'Chihhh! hehShuhh!" Spike
found the handkerchief in Wesley's back pocket and scrubbed at his running
nose. "Baybe that's for the best? Sniff!
Could you...?"
After
helping Spike blow his nose again, Wesley opened up the book and thumbed through
a few pages until he found a passage about William the Bloody. He wrapped his
arm around Spike and began to read.