(no subject)
Love/Hate Relationship
by Harikari
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Disclaimer: Don't own em'.
Warnings: Strong language, mild violence, sexiness, etc.
AN: Possible spoilers for all seasons of BtVS and AtS. In my mind, this takes place after all of those events are over with -- Spike and Xander are an established couple, living together, and hunt demons at their leisure. Written for fall_for_sx.
Summary: It's Halloween. Spike scares an already agitated Xander, then apologizes. Sort of.
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"Bloody brilliant, that was," laughed Spike, the harsh ridges of his vamp face morphing rapidly back into something more human.
Xander blinked; took in a deep, shaky breath. His left arm was thrust out in front of him, his hand splayed open in some pathetic attempt at defense. His right hand was clutching at his sweater, his heart. A moment beat by. Another. His left arm fell, finally, to his side. His grip on his sweater (that green sweater that was a little snug around his chest area, the sweater Dawn had given him for his birthday the year before) slackened. "What..." he stammered. "What the hell, Spike!"
But the vampire wasn't listening. No, the vampire jerk was chuckling. "Should have seen your face, pet," the blond managed between his laughter. "Priceless, that. And-"
"You're an asshole," Xander cut in. He narrowed his eyes, squared his shoulders and pushed passed the vampire, into the apartment. "I can't believe you did that. Seriously."
"You can't?" asked Spike. He sounded surprised.
Xander limped determinedly into the smallish kitchen; went straight for the fridge. He grabbed one of the several diet grape soda's (a few months back, after flipping through a medical encyclopedia and browsing some 'all about health' websites for no reason Xander could fathom, Spike had insisted the human stop drinking beer altogether, and also that he drink diet if he had to drink soft drinks) stacked inside; turned and slammed the can onto the kitchen table. "I didn't even agree to your stupid new health rules," he complained under his breath, at the same time removing the wooden stake from his back pocket. He slammed that onto the table, too.
Spike had followed him into the kitchen. The vampire stared at the stake on the table; frowned.
Xander pulled out one of the chairs that surrounded the table, fell into it. He bent and reached for the loaded knife sheath on his left ankle; unbuckled it and let it fall to the tiled floor. "And I don't know why everyone always says that nothing ever happens on Halloween," he said. "I mean, it's just not true. Something bad has happened every Halloween for as long as I've known about demons and spells and all of that..."
He trailed off. A pained sort of hissing sound escaped his mouth; he hunched his shoulders, rubbed at the spot just above his right knee. "I hate Halloween."
"What happened?" demanded Spike. And Xander looked up; realized that the blond had pulled out a chair of his own and was sitting directly across from him. Their knees were about a foot away from touching. The goofy ecstatic look had faded from the vampire's face -- had been replaced with something harsh, intense. Something angry, maybe.
"Nothing," Xander snapped. "I just got knocked over by some stupid fresh-from-the-grave vampire trying to munch on some Trick or Treating teenagers. And the teenagers didn't even say 'thank you, mysterious savior guy' after I dusted the demon bastard. Can you believe that? They just ran away screaming." He bit at his bottom lip; glanced at the fridge and wondered if getting ice would be worth the pain. "And then I come home and you jump out at me all fang faced and scare the hell..." He trailed off, rolled up his right pant leg so he could get a good look at the large bruise that was blooming near his knee. "Well," he started again, "you didn't really scare me, just-"
"How did you run into a fledgling on you way home from work?" asked Spike, leaning in close. "You have a car, whelp."
Angry, Xander leaned back in his chair. Glared. "I saw those kids in trouble and I pulled over, Fang Breath. I couldn't just leave them to die."
They both fell silent for a moment. Xander just breathed. Spike stared.
"Come here," the vampire said, suddenly.
"What?" asked Xander. "No way. I'm in pain, and I'm mad. Did you somehow not pick up on the me being mad thing? Because-"
But it didn't matter. Spike was already reaching for him, for his chair. The vampire pulled at the chair, there was a loud scraping sound as its legs dragged against the tile. They were suddenly close; their knees not just touching -- the vampire's knee had actually managed to worm its way between Xander's thighs.
"No, Spike," ordered Xander, and he tried to push away. But the blond grabbed at his waist, lifted, and before Xander had time to struggle he found himself on his lover's lap. "No, Spike," he said again, this time more forcefully. He tried to get free, but was no match for the vampire's strength. He sighed. "You can't just-"
"Come here," Spike said again, and this time it definitely wasn't a suggestion. He grabbed at the back of Xander's neck with one hand, the other still firm on the former Scooby's waist, and pulled him in for a kiss.
Xander resisted at first -- turned his face away. But when Spike's second kiss caught him at his upper lip he gave in to familiarity. Opened his mouth and let the vampire's tongue (that tongue, Xander remembered, had been surprisingly warm the first time they'd kissed -- by now he was used it) meet his own. Spike's tongue wrestled with his own for a long, heated moment; pushing and wet and forceful. And then Spike pulled back, started aiming brief, moist kisses at his mouth, the edge of his mouth, his jaw.
Xander breathed; realized the tightness in his shoulders had vanished. He felt better.
Spike had stopped his kissing. Xander allowed himself to lean into the vampire's chest, buried his face in the blond's neck. He took in a deep breath; was rewarded with the smell of leather and smoke and Spike. He felt the vampire's hand rubbing his back. Felt the vampire's hardness pushing against his own, straining against cloth. He realized that despite that obvious arousal the blond wasn't pushing anything, was just comforting.
"I..." he started, trailed off. He moved; aimed a quick kiss directly at Spike's mouth (a mouth that was almost as kiss swollen as his own), ground against the vampire's hardness.
"I guess I don't hate Halloween," he conceded. "I mean, it's not all that bad."
Spike just smirked and pulled him closer.