A few blocks away, Spike is leaning back against his refrigerator, Coke in hand and hot chocolate heating in the microwave. Spike's never been one for coffee, but needs a caffeine buzz to get going in the mornings
( ... )
The phone rings just as Xander paints the back wall with creamy pale fluid. Rinsing quickly, he trips out of the shower. It always amazes him that he can be so graceful carrying a full tray of shots, and just about kill himself in his own home
( ... )
"Bloody Hell!" Spike shouts into his empty apartment with a grin. His phone rings and he leans out of the shower to grab the cordless that he installed in here just for this reason. It never failed, Red always called when he was in the shower
( ... )
Xander pulls a pair of worn cotton shorts on, secretly admiring the strong lithe lines of his legs. His last job doing construction had turned his Twinkie laden baby fat into quite a nice physique. If he did say so himself. The newfound confidence of moving away from home didn’t hurt either. Topping off his lazy ensemble with a thin gray wife beater, he saunters in time with the music
( ... )
Faith looks at Spike’s guilt laden face and understanding washes over her. Spike backs away at the look in her eyes. “You have a crush! Just wait until Cordy and Red hear about this!”
Spike shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him, trying to get Faith to be quiet. “Shut up you bloody bint! I do not have a crush, besides, Xander hates me. And Red already knows.”
“Spike has a crush! Spike has a…” Spike slaps a hand over Faith’s mouth and drags her towards the door, grabbing the bag of ice cream along the way. He deposits her outside the door to the club, and she resumes her singing. “Spike has a crush!”
Spike flips open his phone, glaring at Faith. “Cordelia, I just tossed your significant other out of the club. She has a bag of ice cream, come get her.”
Pressing a quick kiss to Faith’s lips, he turns and walks back into the club to look for Xander.
Standing in the middle of the empty kitchen, Xander raises his arms into the air.
“Why me?” muttering to himself now, “First I don’t get to see Willow today, then I get Angel on my doorstep, and then Spike…not even going there.” He stalks over to the cooler case, pulling out a rack of beer. “Let’s see. I now live on a fault line, think I could get a nice earthquake to round out my day?” Freeing a long neck bottle, he presses the ice-cold glass against the back of his neck. Sighing when the condensation cools his flesh.
Spike walks into the kitchen, hearing Xander’s murmured comment about earthquakes. He watches as Xander presses the cold bottle against his neck, gasping noiselessly when a drop of moisture begins to travel down the tanned skin. He licks his lips and clears his throat to get Xander’s attention.
Xander turns at the sound, dragging the bottle around his neck to slide down his throat. A slow curl of lust worms its way up his belly at the sight of the blond.
“Hey, Spike. Let me get these out to the fridge, then we can do…” he shrugs, “Whatever.” Lifting the rack to sit on his broad shoulder, he flushes slightly when he realizes his erection is now prominently displayed.
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Spike shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him, trying to get Faith to be quiet. “Shut up you bloody bint! I do not have a crush, besides, Xander hates me. And Red already knows.”
“Spike has a crush! Spike has a…” Spike slaps a hand over Faith’s mouth and drags her towards the door, grabbing the bag of ice cream along the way. He deposits her outside the door to the club, and she resumes her singing. “Spike has a crush!”
Spike flips open his phone, glaring at Faith. “Cordelia, I just tossed your significant other out of the club. She has a bag of ice cream, come get her.”
Pressing a quick kiss to Faith’s lips, he turns and walks back into the club to look for Xander.
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“Why me?” muttering to himself now, “First I don’t get to see Willow today, then I get Angel on my doorstep, and then Spike…not even going there.” He stalks over to the cooler case, pulling out a rack of beer. “Let’s see. I now live on a fault line, think I could get a nice earthquake to round out my day?” Freeing a long neck bottle, he presses the ice-cold glass against the back of his neck. Sighing when the condensation cools his flesh.
Reply
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“Hey, Spike. Let me get these out to the fridge, then we can do…” he shrugs, “Whatever.” Lifting the rack to sit on his broad shoulder, he flushes slightly when he realizes his erection is now prominently displayed.
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