Title : Hang Ten
7/50
Author: BmblBee
Paring: Spike/Xander (of course)
Rating: NC17. Not a lot of sex, but what there is, is very graphic. M/M
Warnings: See above.
Disclaimer: The Bee has no claim on any of the characters she plays with.
Summary: HAU. A story of teens, sun and surf in the 1960's.
Special thanks, as always to my dearest friend Petxnd for the wonderful banner
and the thoughtful preread.
The Bee greatly appreciates readers who take the time to comment.
Spelling and punctuation checked by Silk_Labyrinth. Remaining boo boos are
by the Bee's choice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles stood in the center of the chaos and disorder that was attempting to be their new
home. The movers had just left amidst a flurry of disagreements over what constituted
the completion of their appointed task and their departure was capped by having the
gall to extend their sweaty palms in hopes of receiving remuneration on top of their
contractual wage. Reluctantly, and with much lens polishing, Giles slapped a single
dollar bill into each hand before slamming the door in their faces.
And now, he stood in the center of the living room and turned in a full circle. It was
deplorable. None of the furniture had been placed where he had instructed and the
boxes were stacked recklessly in every open space leaving only a single narrow walkway
through and into the direction of the kitchen. He dreaded what awaited him in there.
It wasn't until then that he began to realize just how long it had been since his son had
ridden off on his bicycle. With a small niggle of concern, Rupert walked out onto the
front porch and stepped out to the sidewalk. He looked as far down as he could in
each direction and was dismayed to see that there was no sign of the boy or his
red Schwinn Flyer anywhere.
"Hi. Welcome to the neighborhood."
Giles jumped straight in the air at the unexpected voice. He spun around to find himself
face to face with a very attractive, dark-haired woman handing him a pie of some unknown
fruitish persuasion. Quickly, he regained his composure.
"Well. Yes, thank you. How very neighborly of you. I'm Rupert Giles and you are....?"
The young woman's face crinkled slightly as the genuine smile warmed her features in
what he thought a most appealing manner. She shifted the pie to her left hand and she
extended her right.
"I'm your next door neighbor, Jenny Calendar. When I saw the truck arrive this morning
I decided to do the hospitable thing and bake you a pie. OK, that's a lie. The truth is, I
ran down to the market and bought it, but it is the thought that counts."
Giles had to laugh at the woman's blunt honesty. She was like a breath of fresh air and
despite the disorganized mess inside the house, he was beginning to think this could very
well be a lovely place to settle in.
Waving the pie in enticing little circles under his nose, Jenny waggled her eyebrows.
"Would you like to step over to my place for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie? It's
rhubarb."
Rupert gazed longingly at both the fresh baked pie and the fresh-faced purveyor of the
pastry. Although that sounded like a wonderful idea, he had other more pressing concerns
at the moment.
"That sounds absolutely delightful, Miss Calendar, however I seem to have misplaced
my son. You didn't see a small, blond boy on a bicycle go by here earlier did you?"
The smile on Jenny's face sagged slightly. She knew it was too good to be true. An
eligible man in a small town of divorced and spinstered women was as rare as lipstick
on a polar bear. She had been watching out her dining room window all morning as the
movers hauled things in and nothing looked feminine. Damn. $3.00 wasted on a
fucking pie.
"Oh, sorry, no. Your wife must be very concerned about him."
Rupert removed his glasses and he began polishing them. Giving his hands a specific
task helped keep his focus from becoming tearful whenever his wife was mentioned.
"No. I'm ah....That is, my wife has.....I'm a widower."
Jenny's eyes lit up and she immediately looped her arm through his and began steering
him toward the small, brown bungalow next door. It struck him that she was amazingly
strong for a woman of her stature.
"Wow, I'm so sorry to hear that. Gosh it must be real hard. You know, starting fresh
in a new country with a little boy to raise on your own. Well, don't you worry one more
second cause I'm right here and I will give you a hand any old time you need. Now,
why don't we go in and have some pie while we decide what to do about that missing
boy of yours."
SLAM.
The door whooshed shut as Ruper Giles disappeared inside. His last thought before
being whisked off the street was that he suddenly had an inkling of what a bug felt like
just before it was consumed by a Venus flytrap.
"I have to pee."
It was an auspicious statement that seemed to have a physical effect on every female
bladder in the area. William, now known as Spike, was somewhat confused. The instant
Buffy made her declaration, all three girls jumped to their feet and began an unspoken,
mutually agreed upon trek across the sand to the ramshackle, wooden outhouse.
"Do they always pee together?"
Xander was still laying flat on his back on the beach blanket. His arm was over his
eyes and it was unclear if he was asleep or awake. When Spike asked the question,
Xander removed his arm, turned his head and seemed slightly surprised that the boy was
still there.
"Yeah, they do. Toilet trips are a group activity for girls. Don't they do that where
you come from?"
Spike hemmed and hawed, reluctant to admit that he actually had very little contact
with females back in his hometown and certainly was not privy to their urination habits.
In fact, he was startled to realize that this was the first time that he had ever actually
spent time with girls and counted any as friends. Or potential friends. Before he could
find a way to express any of that, Xander propped himself up on his elbows and squinted
at the newcomer.
"Aren't you hot in all those clothes?"
Spike shrugged. He wanted to respond that he was nowhere near as hot as Xander
but he knew a statement like that could buy him a punch in the nose.
"Yeah, sort of. I didn't really intend to come to the beach. I was just out riding my
bike and...."
The corners of Xander's mouth twitched. "You're riding your bicycle?"
Spike blinked innocently. Xander sure was cute when he smiled. What was the
question again? Oh, yes.
"My bike, yes. Anyway, I was on the pier when I saw you surfing. Other than the
cinema, I have never actually seen anyone surf before. It is incredible. It must be the
most wonderful feeling in the world."
Xander sat up and crossed his legs. It was a move that caused his snug, short, swim
trunks to bind and accentuate the wonderful bulge in the front. Spike tried his best not
to stare at it. Xander seemed to be oblivious to his companion's interest as the chance
to expound on the virtues of surfing presented itself.
"Oh, man, it's a gas! You're bookin' on the high-n-fly and just praying for the tubular
to wrap you up inside it. Then when you shoot out the other end, man oh man, there
ain't nothing that can beat it."
Spike's face took on a dreamy look as he listened to Xander. He didn't understand one
single word of it but he knew with absolute certainty that that was what he wanted to do
too. He wanted to feel that way about something. He wanted to be on top of the world
and if he could be there with Xander, his life would be complete.
"I say, will you teach me? Please, Xander? Will you teach me how to surf?'
It was a down-to-earth question that snapped Xander's mind out of the clouds and jerked
him back to reality. With a grunt of disgust, he flopped back down and closed his eyes
again.
"Nope. No can do. The Xanman here has to get a nine-to-five and earn some bread. I
got my eye on some wheels and I only have the month to come up with the greenbacks
to put down on her or I lose out. This weekend will be my only parole before lockup
Monday morning. If you ask around, you should be able to find somebody to...."
"No. No, I want you! I mean, it's just that you are so good and I want to learn from the
best. Tell you what, I'll pay you. Yes, that's it. I'll hire you to teach me to surf. What
do you say?"
Xander again sat up and he looked inquisitively at the small boy in front of him. For a
few seconds, he considered the offer before he dismissed it.
"Nah. It wouldn't work. I need three bills for my woody. That's a lot of paper."
Spike whimpered. He didn't know how much three bills was, but he was certain that
Xander's woody would be worth every pound of it. His own dick agreed and twitched
within the confines of his denims.
"Straight English. How much?"
"Three hundred dollars."
It was a needle into the balloon of Spike's enthusiasm. He had a good deal of money
set back from gifts and allowances but nowhere near that much. Then, a possibility
came to mind. A compromise that may suit them both.
"How about this. How about I buy one month of your time for one hundred of your
American dollars. That is one third of the summer and one third of what you need.
After that, you are still free to seek other employment in order to secure the balance."
Xander straightened his slumped shoulders while he stared into the pale, small face
and tried to gauge the validity of the proposition. Was it possible? Could he actually
have the best of both worlds? It would give him thirty days more of surfing while he
collected enough money to keep Rory on the hook. In exchange, all he had to do was
waste a few minutes each day going through the motions of teaching this boy to surf.
"Tell you what. You meet me here tomorrow and show me the color of your money.
If it is as green as you say, we got a deal."
Spike let out an odd little squeak as the grin took over his face. He immediately leapt
to his feet and brushed the sand from the seat of his pants.
"It's a deal! Splendid! I shall meet you here as instructed and we shall begin posthaste.
Thank you. Thank you, Xander. You shall see. I will be an apt pupil. Till then. TTFN,
as you Americans say."
Xander laughed and watched as the boy did his best to run through the sand in his bulky
tennis shoes. Who the hell says TTFN?
He then laid back down, placed his arm over his eyes and thought no more about his
new student.