BtVS Fic: Outside Pride (Spike/Xander, 9/10, PG-13)
It's here!!! I'm so excited to have more Outside Pride! It's been a while, I know, but I've been figuring how to conclude things and finally know, so Chapter 10 should be coming your way soon! I've included a "Previously" to refresh you on exactly where we left things between Spike and Xander at the end of chapter eight. :D
Title: Outside Pride
Author: cordelianne
Chapter: 9/10
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,480
Feedback: Comments will be very encouraging. Concrit is very welcome by email.
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, Joss own them.
Summary: AU set at a summer camp.
The sun is shining, crickets are chirping, birds are singing and it’s bloody annoying. Spike visualizes knocking the birds out - not to kill ’em, just to shut ’em up. But it would be messy. And he’d have to get up to do it.
A/N: Thanks to the completely awesome and wonderful savoytruffle and spookymonkey for their invaluable pre-reading, betaing and support. Any mistakes are mine (and you're always welcome to point out any to me!).
Previous chapters are in memories here.
Previously
Spike runs a hand up Xander’s back. “Forget all that rot. Pretend we’re somewhere else.”
He nods again. “Do you - we could, um, my campers’re on a trip.” Spike kisses the place where he bit a few seconds before. “Want to come inside?”
Spike doesn’t answer, just propels Xander through the cabin door so quickly that everything blurs. Makes it easy to imagine they’re somewhere else.
Another country or another continent.
Anywhere but here.
CHAPTER NINE
The sun is shining, crickets are chirping, birds are singing and it’s bloody annoying. Spike visualizes knocking the birds out - not to kill ’em, just to shut ’em up.
But it would be messy. And he’d have to get up to do it.
He rolls over - away from the sun streaming in the window - and finds himself face-to-face with Xander. Xander, who’s breathing noisily as he sleeps. It’s not cute. Spike wants to resent Xander for being oblivious to everything that’s woken him up, but he can’t. Not when they’re both naked under the sheet and he’s still feeling smug from having worn the boy out last night.
It’s been a while.
He smiles the smile of the smug and slides a hand through Xander’s hair, then drops it when Xander shifts.
Spike’s lying on his back, hands resting under his head when Xander rolls over with eyes open.
“Hey,” Xander says, voice low. He reaches over and places a hand on Spike’s chest, careful, like he thinks Spike’ll break.
The hand is warm.
“Hey.” Spike turns his head toward Xander but keeps some space. Waits to see how this counselor - this bloody Christian role model - feels about last night in the harsh light of way-too-early-in-the-fucking-morning.
But maybe Xander’s in denial about it being morning because he closes the gap between them and kisses Spike, and that’s not a bad place to be. Denial Spike can work with.
He finds his arms have wrapped around Xander, pressing them together, and unless the moans are complaints, Xander hasn’t got any. Spike’s shoulders lower and he traces a hand down Xander’s back causing him to shiver.
It’s weird not to get shoved out of bed and out the window while still stuffing one leg into his jeans. And the plus side of this new scenario is that there’s time for round two. Or three. You never know.
A creak splits the silence and they break apart.
“Door,” Xander says, eyes darting between Spike and the front of the cabin. “What time ….?” He looks at his wristwatch. “Oh crap, it’s past breakfast.”
Spike sits up, heart pounding, looks for his jeans.
Xander grips his arm. “What should we....?” he asks, clearly unable to finish a sentence.
Spike shakes his head. He must have misplaced his copy of the How to Have Hot Gay Sex at Christian Camps and Not Get Caught guidebook. Or maybe Wyndam-Price had forgotten to hand them out this year.
“Xander?” a voice calls, saving Spike from answering. Not actually saving, of course, more like damning.
“Jesse!” Xander sits up and looks wildly at the cabin door. “It’s okay…” He looks down and yanks the sheet up to cover himself. “I’ll be out in a sec -” Jesse enters and comes to a screeching halt. “-ond.”
Jesse looks at Xander. Xander looks at Jesse. Jesse looks at Spike. Xander looks at Spike. Spike tries to keep up with who’s looking at whom. It’s like a three-way tennis match and - as hard as it is to imagine - less fun.
No chance of a hasty escape now.
No point.
Spike leans back, tilts his head and fixes his gaze on Jesse. “Guess you’re not here to join the fun?”
***
Spike sinks into the leather chair, surprised he’s not being forced to sit on a hard wooden pew - or better yet to kneel.
Wilkins’ office is almost creepy in its comfort, and he half expects the chair to start whirring as it transforms into some sort of diabolical torture device. After all, Wilkins didn’t call him here for some cozy chat or to offer him milk and…
“Cookies?” Wilkins holds out a plate stacked with them and beams at Spike.
“Er.” Not exactly the treatment he was expecting, but then, for all Spike knows they could be baked with rat poison. He takes one anyway. “Sure.”
Wilkins places the cookies down in front of Spike and starts pacing slowly around his desk, like he can’t decide how much distance to keep between him and Spike. Or maybe he’s just a pacer. Considering the circumstances it’s unlikely to be the latter but Spike’s been wrong before about Wilkins - he’s not Mr. Predictable.
“Peppermint Crunch Cookies.” Wilkins paces back, picks up one and paces away. “My dear Edna Mae’s favorite. No one’s recipe comes close to hers. That spirited Wells, bless him, tries, but they lack that special Edna Mae touch.” He sniffs the cookie, pulls out a tissue and places the cookie down upon it, uneaten.
Braced for threats of sin and damnation, the cookies and reminiscing disarm Spike. “Right,” he says.
“Eat it.” Wilkins gestures at the cookie. “It’s still good.”
Spike relents, takes a small bite and nods. It slides down his throat like a dead weight.
Wilkins finally sits down in his desk chair. “I founded Outside Pride in Edna Mae’s memory.” He sighs. “She believed that children are the heart of a community, the heart of God’s community. It’s a wonderful sentiment, I’m sure you’d agree?”
He clasps his hands in his lap and looks at Spike expectantly.
Agree with that Sunday school sentiment? He almost shakes his head, then remembers why he’s here - gay sex is something he doubts Edna Mae would consider a God approved activity.
Wilkins takes his silence for assent and continues, “Of course the thing with children is that they need to be looked after.” He pauses, makes eye contact. “Controlled. And, most unfortunately, the more rebellious element needs to be dealt with. The children are our future. We need them.”
Spike would roll his eyes if he hadn’t just been hit over the head with an anvil - a metaphorical one, of course. But now that they’ve crossed from surreal to slightly creepy, enough is enough. Best to get it over with.
“Listen.” Spike leans forward, then quickly back again. “’M sure you know that the kid, Harris, isn’t to blame. He wasn’t…it was all me.”
“I knew you’d step up!” Wilkins beams at Spike. “Gosh darn it, I’m almost sorry we’ll have to ask you to leave because I respect your guts.” He unfolds his hands and stands up. “Of course you don’t seem to repent your sin, and I don’t want to explain to Mrs. Harris why the corruptor of her innocent son is still here, so good guts or no, you’ll be packing your bags, sonny,” he finishes, still smiling.
Did he really just take the fall for some kid he barely knows and who doesn’t even need a summer job? Spike shakes the thoughts off. Not like he wanted to stay here anyway. He stands up too. “More than happy to hit the road.”
Wilkins reaches out and shakes his hand. Upon releasing it, he wipes his with one of those cloths people use for diaper changes.
He offers one to Spike. “Moist towelette?”
Spike shakes his head. He must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.
***
“Have you gone insane?”
Trust Angel to go from calm to drama queen faster than Spike can say “kicked out.” And here he’d been grateful that he hadn’t been yelled at and called a sinner or unpure or…
“Idiot. That’s what you are,” Angel declares as he paces across the room, because apparently that’s what people did when discussing Spike’s sex life. He decides to take it as a compliment. “It’s just…” Angel sighs. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? This isn’t some fairy tale; he’s not going to be impressed by you trying to be the big hero.”
Spike scoffs and continues tossing clothes into his duffel bag. “Does it look like I’m throwing myself off a tower to save a princess?”
Angel crosses his arms and frowns at him. Spike waves him off.
“Listen, Spike…” Angel says in his oh-so-serious voice. Spike rolls his eyes. “This isn’t something you can just throw away. You - okay, we - need this job. Remember how this was going to set us up with clients for our landscaping business come fall?”
Spike is cornered by logic. “Yeah, well it’s not like I had a choice.” Angel raises an eyebrow and glowers. “I mean, just now, with Wilkins. It was either Xander and me or just me.” He shrugs. “Kid’s got his whole life ahead of him.”
Angel sinks into the closest chair. “Guess we need a plan B.”
“Don’t worry, big guy.” Spike closes his bag, tosses it over his shoulder. “People like you and me, can’t keep us down for long. We'll be rolling hard eights again in no time.”
But as he walks down the main road alone, it’s harder to believe his next roll of the dice will be lucky. Spike tightens his grip on the duffel’s handle and speeds up his pace.
There’s a bend in the road up ahead. He focuses on that.
Concludes here.
Title: Outside Pride
Author: cordelianne
Chapter: 9/10
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,480
Feedback: Comments will be very encouraging. Concrit is very welcome by email.
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, Joss own them.
Summary: AU set at a summer camp.
The sun is shining, crickets are chirping, birds are singing and it’s bloody annoying. Spike visualizes knocking the birds out - not to kill ’em, just to shut ’em up. But it would be messy. And he’d have to get up to do it.
A/N: Thanks to the completely awesome and wonderful savoytruffle and spookymonkey for their invaluable pre-reading, betaing and support. Any mistakes are mine (and you're always welcome to point out any to me!).
Previous chapters are in memories here.
Previously
Spike runs a hand up Xander’s back. “Forget all that rot. Pretend we’re somewhere else.”
He nods again. “Do you - we could, um, my campers’re on a trip.” Spike kisses the place where he bit a few seconds before. “Want to come inside?”
Spike doesn’t answer, just propels Xander through the cabin door so quickly that everything blurs. Makes it easy to imagine they’re somewhere else.
Another country or another continent.
Anywhere but here.
CHAPTER NINE
The sun is shining, crickets are chirping, birds are singing and it’s bloody annoying. Spike visualizes knocking the birds out - not to kill ’em, just to shut ’em up.
But it would be messy. And he’d have to get up to do it.
He rolls over - away from the sun streaming in the window - and finds himself face-to-face with Xander. Xander, who’s breathing noisily as he sleeps. It’s not cute. Spike wants to resent Xander for being oblivious to everything that’s woken him up, but he can’t. Not when they’re both naked under the sheet and he’s still feeling smug from having worn the boy out last night.
It’s been a while.
He smiles the smile of the smug and slides a hand through Xander’s hair, then drops it when Xander shifts.
Spike’s lying on his back, hands resting under his head when Xander rolls over with eyes open.
“Hey,” Xander says, voice low. He reaches over and places a hand on Spike’s chest, careful, like he thinks Spike’ll break.
The hand is warm.
“Hey.” Spike turns his head toward Xander but keeps some space. Waits to see how this counselor - this bloody Christian role model - feels about last night in the harsh light of way-too-early-in-the-fucking-morning.
But maybe Xander’s in denial about it being morning because he closes the gap between them and kisses Spike, and that’s not a bad place to be. Denial Spike can work with.
He finds his arms have wrapped around Xander, pressing them together, and unless the moans are complaints, Xander hasn’t got any. Spike’s shoulders lower and he traces a hand down Xander’s back causing him to shiver.
It’s weird not to get shoved out of bed and out the window while still stuffing one leg into his jeans. And the plus side of this new scenario is that there’s time for round two. Or three. You never know.
A creak splits the silence and they break apart.
“Door,” Xander says, eyes darting between Spike and the front of the cabin. “What time ….?” He looks at his wristwatch. “Oh crap, it’s past breakfast.”
Spike sits up, heart pounding, looks for his jeans.
Xander grips his arm. “What should we....?” he asks, clearly unable to finish a sentence.
Spike shakes his head. He must have misplaced his copy of the How to Have Hot Gay Sex at Christian Camps and Not Get Caught guidebook. Or maybe Wyndam-Price had forgotten to hand them out this year.
“Xander?” a voice calls, saving Spike from answering. Not actually saving, of course, more like damning.
“Jesse!” Xander sits up and looks wildly at the cabin door. “It’s okay…” He looks down and yanks the sheet up to cover himself. “I’ll be out in a sec -” Jesse enters and comes to a screeching halt. “-ond.”
Jesse looks at Xander. Xander looks at Jesse. Jesse looks at Spike. Xander looks at Spike. Spike tries to keep up with who’s looking at whom. It’s like a three-way tennis match and - as hard as it is to imagine - less fun.
No chance of a hasty escape now.
No point.
Spike leans back, tilts his head and fixes his gaze on Jesse. “Guess you’re not here to join the fun?”
***
Spike sinks into the leather chair, surprised he’s not being forced to sit on a hard wooden pew - or better yet to kneel.
Wilkins’ office is almost creepy in its comfort, and he half expects the chair to start whirring as it transforms into some sort of diabolical torture device. After all, Wilkins didn’t call him here for some cozy chat or to offer him milk and…
“Cookies?” Wilkins holds out a plate stacked with them and beams at Spike.
“Er.” Not exactly the treatment he was expecting, but then, for all Spike knows they could be baked with rat poison. He takes one anyway. “Sure.”
Wilkins places the cookies down in front of Spike and starts pacing slowly around his desk, like he can’t decide how much distance to keep between him and Spike. Or maybe he’s just a pacer. Considering the circumstances it’s unlikely to be the latter but Spike’s been wrong before about Wilkins - he’s not Mr. Predictable.
“Peppermint Crunch Cookies.” Wilkins paces back, picks up one and paces away. “My dear Edna Mae’s favorite. No one’s recipe comes close to hers. That spirited Wells, bless him, tries, but they lack that special Edna Mae touch.” He sniffs the cookie, pulls out a tissue and places the cookie down upon it, uneaten.
Braced for threats of sin and damnation, the cookies and reminiscing disarm Spike. “Right,” he says.
“Eat it.” Wilkins gestures at the cookie. “It’s still good.”
Spike relents, takes a small bite and nods. It slides down his throat like a dead weight.
Wilkins finally sits down in his desk chair. “I founded Outside Pride in Edna Mae’s memory.” He sighs. “She believed that children are the heart of a community, the heart of God’s community. It’s a wonderful sentiment, I’m sure you’d agree?”
He clasps his hands in his lap and looks at Spike expectantly.
Agree with that Sunday school sentiment? He almost shakes his head, then remembers why he’s here - gay sex is something he doubts Edna Mae would consider a God approved activity.
Wilkins takes his silence for assent and continues, “Of course the thing with children is that they need to be looked after.” He pauses, makes eye contact. “Controlled. And, most unfortunately, the more rebellious element needs to be dealt with. The children are our future. We need them.”
Spike would roll his eyes if he hadn’t just been hit over the head with an anvil - a metaphorical one, of course. But now that they’ve crossed from surreal to slightly creepy, enough is enough. Best to get it over with.
“Listen.” Spike leans forward, then quickly back again. “’M sure you know that the kid, Harris, isn’t to blame. He wasn’t…it was all me.”
“I knew you’d step up!” Wilkins beams at Spike. “Gosh darn it, I’m almost sorry we’ll have to ask you to leave because I respect your guts.” He unfolds his hands and stands up. “Of course you don’t seem to repent your sin, and I don’t want to explain to Mrs. Harris why the corruptor of her innocent son is still here, so good guts or no, you’ll be packing your bags, sonny,” he finishes, still smiling.
Did he really just take the fall for some kid he barely knows and who doesn’t even need a summer job? Spike shakes the thoughts off. Not like he wanted to stay here anyway. He stands up too. “More than happy to hit the road.”
Wilkins reaches out and shakes his hand. Upon releasing it, he wipes his with one of those cloths people use for diaper changes.
He offers one to Spike. “Moist towelette?”
Spike shakes his head. He must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.
***
“Have you gone insane?”
Trust Angel to go from calm to drama queen faster than Spike can say “kicked out.” And here he’d been grateful that he hadn’t been yelled at and called a sinner or unpure or…
“Idiot. That’s what you are,” Angel declares as he paces across the room, because apparently that’s what people did when discussing Spike’s sex life. He decides to take it as a compliment. “It’s just…” Angel sighs. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? This isn’t some fairy tale; he’s not going to be impressed by you trying to be the big hero.”
Spike scoffs and continues tossing clothes into his duffel bag. “Does it look like I’m throwing myself off a tower to save a princess?”
Angel crosses his arms and frowns at him. Spike waves him off.
“Listen, Spike…” Angel says in his oh-so-serious voice. Spike rolls his eyes. “This isn’t something you can just throw away. You - okay, we - need this job. Remember how this was going to set us up with clients for our landscaping business come fall?”
Spike is cornered by logic. “Yeah, well it’s not like I had a choice.” Angel raises an eyebrow and glowers. “I mean, just now, with Wilkins. It was either Xander and me or just me.” He shrugs. “Kid’s got his whole life ahead of him.”
Angel sinks into the closest chair. “Guess we need a plan B.”
“Don’t worry, big guy.” Spike closes his bag, tosses it over his shoulder. “People like you and me, can’t keep us down for long. We'll be rolling hard eights again in no time.”
But as he walks down the main road alone, it’s harder to believe his next roll of the dice will be lucky. Spike tightens his grip on the duffel’s handle and speeds up his pace.
There’s a bend in the road up ahead. He focuses on that.
Concludes here.