Buffyverse Fic: Crush [Spike/Wesley] 1/1
Decided to take a break from my computer issues due to the massive headache threatening to make my head explode, and thought I'd go ahead and post this. I may or may not eventually write a sequel to it, but in case I don't, it stands on its own, I think. Enjoy. :-)
Crush
Pairing: Spike/Wesley, implied Angel/Wesley and Spike/Angel...sort of
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: bykitty_poker1
Word Count: 1,406 words
Setting: AtS Season 5 through Destiny
Summary: Wesley's got a secret and Spike's got a proposition.
"You know what the problem with you Watchers is?" Spike asked, barging into Wesley's office uninvited.
Wesley looked up from the text he was skimming through to find Spike making his way unsteadily toward his desk.
Curious as to where this was coming from and slightly amused in spite of himself, Wesley asked, "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
That, oddly, stopped Spike in his tracks. He blinked cartoonishly at Wesley. "Oh? Why's that?"
Wesley had to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up at Spike's genuine confusion. "Because you don't strike me as the sort of fellow to beat around the bush."
Spike appeared to think about that, then nodded decisively. "Too right 'm not."
That settled, Spike took the final two steps necessary to line him up with the upholstered chair opposite Wesley's desk and flopped down into it, pulling a nearly empty fifth of Jack Daniels from an interior pocket of his leather coat as he did.
Lifting it in the air before bringing it to his lips, Spike mumbled, "Cheers."
Wesley waited patiently while Spike downed half of what was left in the bottle before lowering it. Quirking an eyebrow, Wesley asked, "You were saying something about what a Watcher's problem is? Keeping in mind that I no longer am one, of course."
Spike's brow furrowed. "I was?" There was a pause, then Spike's features smoothed out again. "Oh, right. Yes, the problem with you Watchersex-Watchers toois that you watch."
Wesley blinked at Spike, waiting several heartbeats for the rest of whatever Spike had to say. After over a minute of staring at each other, though, it became painfully apparent that Spike had said all he'd come to say on the subject.
Wesley cleared his throat and looked down at the work on his desk, vacillating between wanting to know what Spike was on about and wanting to get back to his research. Eventually, he gathered together several papers that needed Angel's attention and stood, saying, "If that is all"
Faster than Wesley could blink, Spike was up and around the edge of the desk in spite of his drunkenness, invading Wesley's personal space. Wesley tensed, dropping the papers back to his desk in preparation to defend himself if necessary. "What do you think"
Again Spike's actions cut him off, this time a finger to Wesley's lips doing the trick.
"Shh, Watcher," Spike said, voice low and hypnotic, suddenly looking considerably more sober than the vampire that had walked in minutes ago. "Just wanted to tell you that I know."
Wesley swallowed, fighting the way his body reacted to Spike's nearness, Spike's voice, Spike's penetrating gaze. "Know?"
Spike took another step forward, bringing the front of their bodies flush against each other as he leaned in toward the side of Wesley's neck and inhaled deeply. Against Wesley's ear, Spike said, "I can smell it, you know. Your interest. Whenever I walk into a room, it's there." Spike pulled back and stared into Wesley's eyes. "And your eyes. Can feel them following me 'round the room, watching every move I make."
Wesley's stomach tightened and his cock began to swell as sexual awareness filled the air around them. "Is" Wesley's voice cracked and he cursed silently as he cleared his throat and tried again. "Is that right?"
Spike leaned in, bringing their lips to within a hair's breath of each other. Wesley swallowed as a hand settle on one hip. "That's right. You have no idea how bloody much I want to take you up on your offer, either, mate."
Trying to preserve at least some of his sanity, Wesley countered, "I don't believe there was an offer made."
Spike pulled his face back slightly, his eyes moving from Wesley's to Wesley's lips then back again as a knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "We both know there was, pet. May not have been made with words, but it was made just the same."
Realizing denying it was pointless, Wesley licked his lips, his eyes dropping to Spike's as he asked, "What are you going to do about it?"
Wesley felt Spike tense against him and lifted his eyes from the vampire's lips to meet Spike's gaze. All traces of seduction were suddenly gone, leaving in their wake a restrained violence that only turned Wesley on more.
"Nothing," Spike bit out.
That gave Wesley pause. "Nothing?"
"The tosser wouldn't like it."
Wesley's eyebrows shot up at that. "And by the tosser, I presume you mean Angel?" At Spike's nod, Wesley found himself even more surprised. "I was under the impression you didn't give a damn what Angel thought about anything."
Spike snorted, his hand dropping from Wesley's hip as he took a step back. "Don't. I do, however, like my balls where they are, all attached, like."
Regaining some of his composure along with his personal space, Wesley took a deep breath. "I wouldn't have thought you were one to let Angel bully you, especially after kicking his arse in that battle for the cup."
Spike's expression darkened. "'M not, just don't fancy his inner-Angelus popping out in a jealous rage. It's not pretty, trust me."
Wesley wasn't sure what to make of that, so he asked, "And why would Angel be jealous?"
Spike shot Wesley a sidelong glance. "Come off it, Percy. I know you're not that dense. The ponce considers you his."
Wesley stiffened. He'd had a feeling but having it confirmed verbally was another thing altogether. "He does, does he?"
Spike snorted. "Stop looking so indignant. You knew, and, on some level, you like it."
Wesley thought about denying it, but knew Spike would just see through it anyway, so didn't bother. Instead, he nodded slightly. "Be that as it may, I am not, in point of fact, his, nor have I ever been or will I ever be, so it's a moot point."
Spike shook his head. "You're so very wrong."
Changing tactics, Wesley challenged, "Angel's wrath didn't keep you from Buffy."
Spike chuckled, the sound humorless. "One, I was soulless at the time, with a huge chip on my shoulder aimed in Angel's direction. Got rid of that now, thanks to beating him to that soddin' cup. The playing field's even for a change. Second, make no doubt that Angel had moved on or he wouldn't have hesitated to run off to Sunnyhell to rip me a new one."
Wesley absorbed that. "So you're saying Angel hasn't moved on from me?"
Spike stepped in close again and nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. You are still very much in Angel's sights. The pouf sends out 'hands off' signals a soddin' blind person could see."
Wesley tilted his head to one side and studied Spike's expression, seeing the heat lying just under the surface still. "That's it, then?"
Spike took another step forward, bringing their bodies flush against each other once more. Wordlessly, he leaned in and brought their mouths together in a kiss that quickly became heated. Hands groped, hips ground, tongues thrust.
Spike groaned low in his throat before tearing his mouth away from Wesley's and leaning in toward his ear as Wesley panted for air. "Let's just say that, tempting as the offer isand trust me, it's tempting enough to have had me tossing off every night since becoming corporeal againyou'd have to sweeten the pot a bit, pet, to make me want to risk my dangly bits for you."
Spike released Wesley and walked out, leaving Wesley to stare after him, aroused and bothered by the fact that he actually wanted to figure out what would 'sweeten the pot' enough to make Spike change his mind.
Taking a deep breath, Wesley turned back to his desk and began gathering the papers he'd dropped when Spike had invaded his personal space. The key, Wesley knew, to not letting himself obsess over Spike any more than he already had been was to throw himself into his work, as he had when it became apparent nothing would ever come of his interest in Fred.
Wesley straightened and frowned at the stack of books perched on one corner of his desk, deciding that it was a good thing there seemed to be an endless supply of work to bury himself in at Wolfram & Hart. He was going to need every bit of it and more.
~ Finis
Crush
Pairing: Spike/Wesley, implied Angel/Wesley and Spike/Angel...sort of
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: bykitty_poker1
Word Count: 1,406 words
Setting: AtS Season 5 through Destiny
Summary: Wesley's got a secret and Spike's got a proposition.
"You know what the problem with you Watchers is?" Spike asked, barging into Wesley's office uninvited.
Wesley looked up from the text he was skimming through to find Spike making his way unsteadily toward his desk.
Curious as to where this was coming from and slightly amused in spite of himself, Wesley asked, "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
That, oddly, stopped Spike in his tracks. He blinked cartoonishly at Wesley. "Oh? Why's that?"
Wesley had to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up at Spike's genuine confusion. "Because you don't strike me as the sort of fellow to beat around the bush."
Spike appeared to think about that, then nodded decisively. "Too right 'm not."
That settled, Spike took the final two steps necessary to line him up with the upholstered chair opposite Wesley's desk and flopped down into it, pulling a nearly empty fifth of Jack Daniels from an interior pocket of his leather coat as he did.
Lifting it in the air before bringing it to his lips, Spike mumbled, "Cheers."
Wesley waited patiently while Spike downed half of what was left in the bottle before lowering it. Quirking an eyebrow, Wesley asked, "You were saying something about what a Watcher's problem is? Keeping in mind that I no longer am one, of course."
Spike's brow furrowed. "I was?" There was a pause, then Spike's features smoothed out again. "Oh, right. Yes, the problem with you Watchersex-Watchers toois that you watch."
Wesley blinked at Spike, waiting several heartbeats for the rest of whatever Spike had to say. After over a minute of staring at each other, though, it became painfully apparent that Spike had said all he'd come to say on the subject.
Wesley cleared his throat and looked down at the work on his desk, vacillating between wanting to know what Spike was on about and wanting to get back to his research. Eventually, he gathered together several papers that needed Angel's attention and stood, saying, "If that is all"
Faster than Wesley could blink, Spike was up and around the edge of the desk in spite of his drunkenness, invading Wesley's personal space. Wesley tensed, dropping the papers back to his desk in preparation to defend himself if necessary. "What do you think"
Again Spike's actions cut him off, this time a finger to Wesley's lips doing the trick.
"Shh, Watcher," Spike said, voice low and hypnotic, suddenly looking considerably more sober than the vampire that had walked in minutes ago. "Just wanted to tell you that I know."
Wesley swallowed, fighting the way his body reacted to Spike's nearness, Spike's voice, Spike's penetrating gaze. "Know?"
Spike took another step forward, bringing the front of their bodies flush against each other as he leaned in toward the side of Wesley's neck and inhaled deeply. Against Wesley's ear, Spike said, "I can smell it, you know. Your interest. Whenever I walk into a room, it's there." Spike pulled back and stared into Wesley's eyes. "And your eyes. Can feel them following me 'round the room, watching every move I make."
Wesley's stomach tightened and his cock began to swell as sexual awareness filled the air around them. "Is" Wesley's voice cracked and he cursed silently as he cleared his throat and tried again. "Is that right?"
Spike leaned in, bringing their lips to within a hair's breath of each other. Wesley swallowed as a hand settle on one hip. "That's right. You have no idea how bloody much I want to take you up on your offer, either, mate."
Trying to preserve at least some of his sanity, Wesley countered, "I don't believe there was an offer made."
Spike pulled his face back slightly, his eyes moving from Wesley's to Wesley's lips then back again as a knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "We both know there was, pet. May not have been made with words, but it was made just the same."
Realizing denying it was pointless, Wesley licked his lips, his eyes dropping to Spike's as he asked, "What are you going to do about it?"
Wesley felt Spike tense against him and lifted his eyes from the vampire's lips to meet Spike's gaze. All traces of seduction were suddenly gone, leaving in their wake a restrained violence that only turned Wesley on more.
"Nothing," Spike bit out.
That gave Wesley pause. "Nothing?"
"The tosser wouldn't like it."
Wesley's eyebrows shot up at that. "And by the tosser, I presume you mean Angel?" At Spike's nod, Wesley found himself even more surprised. "I was under the impression you didn't give a damn what Angel thought about anything."
Spike snorted, his hand dropping from Wesley's hip as he took a step back. "Don't. I do, however, like my balls where they are, all attached, like."
Regaining some of his composure along with his personal space, Wesley took a deep breath. "I wouldn't have thought you were one to let Angel bully you, especially after kicking his arse in that battle for the cup."
Spike's expression darkened. "'M not, just don't fancy his inner-Angelus popping out in a jealous rage. It's not pretty, trust me."
Wesley wasn't sure what to make of that, so he asked, "And why would Angel be jealous?"
Spike shot Wesley a sidelong glance. "Come off it, Percy. I know you're not that dense. The ponce considers you his."
Wesley stiffened. He'd had a feeling but having it confirmed verbally was another thing altogether. "He does, does he?"
Spike snorted. "Stop looking so indignant. You knew, and, on some level, you like it."
Wesley thought about denying it, but knew Spike would just see through it anyway, so didn't bother. Instead, he nodded slightly. "Be that as it may, I am not, in point of fact, his, nor have I ever been or will I ever be, so it's a moot point."
Spike shook his head. "You're so very wrong."
Changing tactics, Wesley challenged, "Angel's wrath didn't keep you from Buffy."
Spike chuckled, the sound humorless. "One, I was soulless at the time, with a huge chip on my shoulder aimed in Angel's direction. Got rid of that now, thanks to beating him to that soddin' cup. The playing field's even for a change. Second, make no doubt that Angel had moved on or he wouldn't have hesitated to run off to Sunnyhell to rip me a new one."
Wesley absorbed that. "So you're saying Angel hasn't moved on from me?"
Spike stepped in close again and nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. You are still very much in Angel's sights. The pouf sends out 'hands off' signals a soddin' blind person could see."
Wesley tilted his head to one side and studied Spike's expression, seeing the heat lying just under the surface still. "That's it, then?"
Spike took another step forward, bringing their bodies flush against each other once more. Wordlessly, he leaned in and brought their mouths together in a kiss that quickly became heated. Hands groped, hips ground, tongues thrust.
Spike groaned low in his throat before tearing his mouth away from Wesley's and leaning in toward his ear as Wesley panted for air. "Let's just say that, tempting as the offer isand trust me, it's tempting enough to have had me tossing off every night since becoming corporeal againyou'd have to sweeten the pot a bit, pet, to make me want to risk my dangly bits for you."
Spike released Wesley and walked out, leaving Wesley to stare after him, aroused and bothered by the fact that he actually wanted to figure out what would 'sweeten the pot' enough to make Spike change his mind.
Taking a deep breath, Wesley turned back to his desk and began gathering the papers he'd dropped when Spike had invaded his personal space. The key, Wesley knew, to not letting himself obsess over Spike any more than he already had been was to throw himself into his work, as he had when it became apparent nothing would ever come of his interest in Fred.
Wesley straightened and frowned at the stack of books perched on one corner of his desk, deciding that it was a good thing there seemed to be an endless supply of work to bury himself in at Wolfram & Hart. He was going to need every bit of it and more.
~ Finis