Gift for texasfan
Your drabble is Spike and Xander during Christmas in season 5. Could be friendship or pre-slash; all up to you.
Of all the people Spike expected to see on his doorstep (all right, crypt-step) on Christmas Eve, Xander Harris wasn't one of them. “Uh, what exactly are you doin' here?” Spike asked hesitantly.
Xander made a face, half hopeful, half embarrassed. “You forgot your blood at my place the other day. Remember?”
No, Spike didn't remember anything of the sort, because the last time he'd brought blood into Xander's place, Xander's place had been a basement, and that was almost a year ago. Xander was giving him a look to go with it, though, so Spike just nodded widely. “Riiight. I remember. Thanks for bringin' it by.”
The relief was evident on his face. “You wanna come in?” Spike asked, and Xander nodded, stepping inside. He set a grocery bag down on the small table Spike had procured, and then stood with his hands in his pockets, looking unsure of what to do.
Spike took a quick glance into the bag, and found three packets of blood. Human blood, packaged from the blood bank at the hospital. Along with a carton of cigarettes. Spike merely turned to Xander with a raised eyebrow. “So why'd you really stop by?” he asked him.
Xander looked down at his shoes. “Because...because you helped Buffy out the other day, like saved her ass and mine and the world's. And then you just walked away like you didn't care, when I know you did. And...it's Christmas,” he added quietly.
Good enough reasons for Spike's book. “You watch football?” he asked, and Xander nodded, before frowning.
“Your type of football or mine?”
“What you nancy-arses call 'soccer'.”
“Then yeah, I do.”
“Good. Game starts in five.”
~Nebula
Of all the people Spike expected to see on his doorstep (all right, crypt-step) on Christmas Eve, Xander Harris wasn't one of them. “Uh, what exactly are you doin' here?” Spike asked hesitantly.
Xander made a face, half hopeful, half embarrassed. “You forgot your blood at my place the other day. Remember?”
No, Spike didn't remember anything of the sort, because the last time he'd brought blood into Xander's place, Xander's place had been a basement, and that was almost a year ago. Xander was giving him a look to go with it, though, so Spike just nodded widely. “Riiight. I remember. Thanks for bringin' it by.”
The relief was evident on his face. “You wanna come in?” Spike asked, and Xander nodded, stepping inside. He set a grocery bag down on the small table Spike had procured, and then stood with his hands in his pockets, looking unsure of what to do.
Spike took a quick glance into the bag, and found three packets of blood. Human blood, packaged from the blood bank at the hospital. Along with a carton of cigarettes. Spike merely turned to Xander with a raised eyebrow. “So why'd you really stop by?” he asked him.
Xander looked down at his shoes. “Because...because you helped Buffy out the other day, like saved her ass and mine and the world's. And then you just walked away like you didn't care, when I know you did. And...it's Christmas,” he added quietly.
Good enough reasons for Spike's book. “You watch football?” he asked, and Xander nodded, before frowning.
“Your type of football or mine?”
“What you nancy-arses call 'soccer'.”
“Then yeah, I do.”
“Good. Game starts in five.”
~Nebula