Note: altyronsmaker gave me this prompt. you know, I enjoy writing Spander, but I don't, and probably never will, Know They Were Doing It (tm). but I surprised myself here, because this? this, I totally believe happened.

It’s the summer of denial.

It seems like a small sin, in the grand scheme of things. It starts when Ahn is still in the hospital…when Dawn can’t be left alone, even while she sleeps, because the nightmares come. When Willow collapses into coma-like unconsciousness after every patrol, powers drained in the effort to make up for the absence of…Her.

It starts when Spike and Xander keep the hour-hand company long into the night, too wired from the hunt to sleep…too…something else…to ever sleep well.

They’re men. They’re men with no access to the loves of their lives. It seems inevitable that their attention will turn to porn.

It always begins with Spike. Of course it does. Spike has no shame. He doesn’t hesitate to whip it out and stroke it, as Xander tries desperately to keep his eyes focused on the dicks on-screen, safely shielded by female parts, instead of the one begging for attention…within arm's length.

But he doesn’t kid himself about which cock gets him hard. Which one gets him stroking. Which one gets him off.

It starts off silent, just the slapping of flesh on flesh—television muted, so as not to disturb the ladies of the house. There is panting. Breath hitching. Maybe the quiet whimper of desperation in a manly throat.

There are tears. It always begins with Spike. Of course it does. Spike has no shame. His tears slip freely down his face and dry on his cheeks, making his skin tight with salt. He never wipes them away. He stifles the sobs only to keep from waking the girls. His grief is raw and open.

Xander is the one that covers his face.

Afterwards, cocks are tucked into flies. They never look at one another. Sometimes they sleep on the couch. Sometimes they excuse themselves home. Either way, the next time they see one another…this never happened.

It’s the summer of denial.