Summary: Xander and Spike reunite and get into it.
Xander
pulled his eye open and was immediately overwhelmed by a rush of panic. It took
him almost a full minute to calm himself sufficiently to think with a clear
head. He reminded himself that the reason he was still in bed at this time of
day was because he had been awake for nearly four days straight. And the reason
that his side hurt was the hit he'd taken the night before in the fight. But
they'd killed it in the end. They.
Xander
smiled, remembering that part, too. He rolled over in bed to find Spike still
lying beside him, just as they'd left things the night before. If not for the
memory of what Spike's tongue had done to him, and if not for the sight of the
naked quasi-vampire beside him, Xander might have let himself drift right back
to sleep.
Instead, he
happily pressed himself into Spike's side. He ran a hand down Spike's front,
from lips to naval, and Spike twitched just a little on his way along the
process towards waking. Xander's hand went down further, caressing the fine
cock, thighs, balls- and Spike stirred again. "Quit it, Harris," he growled.
"Is it the eyepatch?" Xander murmured, continuing his caresses. "I can
go put the glass eye in, if you like."
"That's not
it," Spike growled. "I just don't want to do this."
Xander
chuckled. "Give it a second and you will want it." He slid his palm along the
length of Spike's cock.
His reflexes
still as good as ever, Spike's hand flew downward and grabbed hold of Xander's
wrist. "I mean it, Pet." One night in bed had apparently earned Xander the
pet-name already. "Don't start with me right now. I don't feel good."
"You're
just tired." Xander had a yawn of his own brewing, in fact. As he turned and
directed it into his shoulder, he was shocked to hear the unexpected sound of a
sneeze. Xander's head whipped back in time to see Spike rubbing the palm of his
hand against his nose. "Vampires don't sneeze."
"True."
Spike sniffed and left his nose alone for a moment. "But I'm not exactly a vamp
anymore, am I?" He sniffed again and resumed rubbing. "This treat came with the
whole package. Get limited exposure to the sun, get a faint heartbeat, and I
also get to catch colds."
There was
little chance of either of them going back to sleep now, and Spike needed a
drink, besides. Just not the sort of drink Xander would have expected him to
have. Spike stood and went to the bathroom as Xander sat up in bed, the words
sinking in. "Wait, colds? As in plural?"
Spike
nodded and paused on the other side of the room. His hand kept rubbing but his
breathing hitched. "ehhh-Kshhttt! EhhhKChihhh!" More rubbing and walking, and Spike
disappeared into the bathroom.
Xander
would be damned if he was going to leave it at that. So he jumped out of bed to
follow.
Spike had
the water running in the sink and was bent over, drinking straight from the
tap. Spike caught Xander's eyes to warn him not to make a joke. He lapped at
the water and swallowed repeatedly. Then he tore himself away from the running
water to grab some toilet paper to rub his nose into. He offered some
explanation. "I've been fighting this thing for a week. Thought I had it beat
for a little while there. But I haven't exactly been taking it easy these past
few days, what with that demon and running into you. Guess I underestimated
this bug a bit." Spike coughed from so much talking and ducked down again to
gulp down more water.
Spike's
face, most noticeably his nose, came in contact with the flow. He winced and
kept drinking. When done, he groped around until he found a hand towel. There
were three of them on the rack by the sink, in fact, each embroidered with an
'X' for 'Xander' which made a less than clean statement the way they were lined
up. It was one Spike might have laughed about last night but this afternoon he
just wanted a towel to wipe his face dry. And sniffle into just a little. "And,
of course," Spike continued, his words muffled into the towel, "I didn't exactly
take it easy last night." His breath caught and he turned away, pinching his
nose. "Hehh-Yish!"
Xander
squatted down and rummaged under the sink, trying to find a Kleenex box. He'd
bought one once; they were useful things to have around. But there wasn't one
there now. Spike would have to make do with toilet paper for now. Unless... maybe
he had a travel pack in his suitcase or something. He headed out to his closet
to find his luggage. Spike followed him out. "Why didn't you tell me?" Xander
asked over his shoulder, sounding cold and quiet. "We had that whole
heart-to-heart after the battle. You'd think you'd have mentioned something
about this."
*
Xander had
been fighting demons and vampires, at least in some capacity, since he was
fifteen. He knew when he was in a losing battle. What was different about this
time was that he had gone into it knowing that there was no possible way he
could win. If hope was the thing with wings, imminent death was the thing with
sharp fangs the size of arms, slimy scales, and fiery breath. He did as well as
he could do, because he had absolutely no other choice, but was seriously
outmatched.
Thankfully,
last night, Xander Harris had gotten lucky three times.
The first
came when he faced off with the demon who decided he wasn't so much a threat as
an amusing plaything. Like a cat with a little toy mouse, Xander found himself
being batted around. Mostly it was just a few hits and some crashing against
crates that had been left in the abandoned building.
He fought
back, naturally, trying to get to it to attack while still trying to avoid its
limbs. He managed to stab it in the arm... or leg... or whatever appendage it was...
but it kept right on coming at him. He was struck twice in the head, with a
hard blow to his side in-between.
Just before
Xander lost consciousness, he saw his second stroke of luck. It came in a black
duster and platinum-blond hair. Xander was so far gone that he wasn't entirely
sure of what he was seeing. For a moment, he thought he was right back in Sunnydale. And then a moment later he had passed out.
When Xander
awoke, he found himself face-to-face with the demon. He jumped back with a
start and groaned at the pain shooting through his side. About the same time he
realized the demon was dead, he realized Spike was there. Spike.
There was a
simultaneous 'what are you doing here?' and both began their explanations at
the same time, requiring them to back up and start over again. While Xander had
only learned of the demon in his town a few days ago, Spike had apparently been
tracking it two states back.
Spike slid
an arm around Xander to help him to his feet. "What were you thinking going up
against that alone?"
"Had to do something. Couldn't just vanish off the face of
the earth, like some people," he replied pointedly.
As they
walked to Xander's car, with Xander leaning on Spike most of the way, Spike
explained away the last year. He began with burning up in the hellmouth and then suddenly appearing in Angel's office. "And
then there was this great big fuss about a prophecy," he said, helping Xander
into the passenger seat of the car.
It was as
Xander was insisting he could drive that he suddenly realized what was
happening. And then he froze, looking around wildly as though something on the
street might explain it. But all he could see was normal as normal could be for
an afternoon. "Spike, why aren't you...?"
"A pile of ashes?" Spike finished for him. Xander nodded,
watching as Spike backed up, the sunlight bright on his face. There was nothing
more natural than sunlight, but it looked incredibly strange on Spike's pale
face. "Like I was saying," Spike said, shutting the car door and circling
around to the driver's seat. "There was this prophecy thing, saying the vampire
with a soul who made it past fiends and apocalypses got to be a real boy at the
end. Angel believed every word of it, and as we both fit the bill, we had a bit
of a tussle trying to decide which one of us the prophecy was meant for." Spike
started up the car. "Seems the universe couldn't decide either, 'cause it
didn't have a lot of humanity to throw around and gave us both a dose. Where'm I going?"
The car was
headed straight down the road with no destination. Xander considered a half dozen destinations. And when Spike pointed out a
hospital sign, Xander insisted on just going back to his apartment. "If I check
into the ER one more time, they'll think something's up. I'm out of excuses,
and I'm just a little bruised this time."
"All
right," Spike said. "We'll go back to yours, then."
"I didn't
exactly invite you," Xander said. "Or don't you need that any more?"
"Dunno, really. Haven't tried that one out
yet. But if you don't want me over..."
Xander
smiled. "I didn't say that, either. Wouldn't be the first time you've crashed
at my place. And I could, ah, use some company after that."
With a
chuckle, "Did the fight get you all worked up, too, then?"
"Someone
else said something like that to me once," Xander said, smiling knowingly at
Spike. "Just before we fucked." Spike smiled back and glanced briefly at
Xander, who got lucky again, as soon as they were in the apartment.
*
Xander
tossed a pack of tissues to Spike and stayed across the room. He watched Spike
crawl back into the bed. "So why didn't you say something about being sick?"
Spike sniffed
and made himself as comfortable as he could in bed. "I didn't tell you 'cause I knew that would be the end of that. Heh... yihshh! Chishhh!" He pulled a tissue out of the pack
and rubbed his nose.
Crossing
his arms over his chest, "What do you mean?"
"Who could
possibly want someone in such a sorry state?" He blew his nose in
demonstration, then rubbed with the corners of the tissue, determined to get as
much use out of it as he could. "Frankly, I had to have you last night, Pet.
Didn't want anything to get in the way." He shivered and pulled covers up to
his neck.
He seemed a
bit uncomfortable when Xander climbed into bed beside him. But Xander was warm
and, half-vamp or not, Spike gravitated towards the extra body heat. Xander
stretched his arm out, testing him, and Spike barely hesitated to slide in, curling
into Xander's chest. For the first time in the longest time, both men allowed
themselves to relax completely.
"You're an
idiot," said Xander, after some time had passed. "You really thought I wouldn't
want you if I knew you had a little cold? I mean, Spike, I've seen you a lot
worse: evil, murderous, obsessed, suicidal, certifiably crazy..."
"But you
still wouldn'ta let me fuck you if you knew I was
ill. Hihh... EH'Shih!"
Xander
started to protest but Spike was probably right about that. He wasn't exactly
Mr. Morals any more, but if he'd seen Spike sneeze like that, all he would have
done was put Spike right to bed. And maybe heat up a can of chicken noodle.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Just
this," Spike replied sleepily. He shook in Xander's arms when he sneezed
powerfully, and this time Xander hugged him tightly to help with that. "hetchihhh! YihChehhh!" Xander
wouldn't release him afterwards, either, even as Spike struggled
a little to put some distance between the sick and the well. But Xander only
held him tighter until he finally felt Spike's body relax again. "This is
nice," Spike said into Xander's shoulder. "Comin' home after a fight to the same place, to the same
bed, to the same... body. A bloke could get used to this."
Xander
laughed, and Spike pulled back, slightly insulted. "I was just thinking how it
feels like time for me to move on. Hit the road, shake things up. You don't...
have a motorcycle now, do you?"
Spike shook
his head.
"Probably for the better. Hard to drive one of those things
when you're sneezing, I bet."
Spike
settled back in, closing his eyes. "Then we either stay here 'til I make a full
recovery, or you do the driving, Pet."
Xander had
every intention of replying. But that was a line he had to have a good answer
for. Something fiendishly clever that would make him
irresistible to Spike. But the seconds ticked away and then became
stressful minutes... until Xander realized Spike had fallen back to sleep.