cordelianne
Rated R Spike/Xander
It's like Xander's living Reality Bites but without Jeanne Garofalo to liven up the twenties angst. His best bet for a new roommate is to pull some random guy in off the street.
beta'd by savoytruffle
See Disclaimer of Ownership here
Xander’s keys are out but he doesn’t put one in the lock. His hand is on the doorknob but he doesn’t twist his wrist. Instead he stares at the plain white door with the numbers 1001 stuck on it as if it holds the secrets to life, the universe and everything – or at least how they get the caramel in the Cararmilk bars.
He should be rushing through that door, ready to claim his prize, confident that the guy inside wants him.
Instead he’s stuck on the wrong side of it while butterflies do a jitterbug in his stomach.
He takes a deep calming breath, tries to fit the key into the lock and drops it. Oh yeah, this is promising. Visions of sexual failure dance in his head.
The key goes in fine the second time, except the door swings open before he can actually do the unlocking thing.
“Thought I heard someone.” Spike sounds casual but he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot and not quite meeting Xander’s eyes.
Somehow this gives Xander courage, well, enough courage to not be a complete idiot and just stand here. “Key trouble. You know how it goes.”
“Er, yeah.” Spike stands aside to let him in.
As Xander unbundles, Spike continues to do his best impression of Xander’s patented I’m-totally-comfortable-here-and-not-at-a
But it does give Xander more courage.
The courage to place a hand on Spike’s shoulder, lean forward and kiss him. Nothing intense, just a ‘hello’ which he finishes with a redundant, “Hey.”
“Hey.” Spike stops the shifting. “Beer?”
“Sure.” Liquid courage sounds good about now, Xander’s courage tends to be a little unreliable.
But the problem with the beer is that they automatically slip into their old routine of not having sex and suddenly they’re engrossed in a rerun of That ‘70s Show. Well, Xander’s not engrossed at all but he’s pretty sure it would appear that he is, what with his intent staring as Eric and Donna argue.
“That Donna chick’s not half bad,” Spike says, holding up his bottle and eyeing how much remains. “I’d shag her.”
Xander tilts his head, considers. “She is hot. But I don’t know, I’d rather do Hyde.”
Spike turns and smirks at him. “’Course you would.”
That brings Xander’s courage back, along with a jolt of hormones. He strikes while the iron is hot – and doesn’t bother to decide if that’s a lame double entendre or just plain lame because he’s way more focused on leaning over and kissing Spike.
It’s not just a ‘hello’ this time.
And Spike’s definitely doing his part to extend the conversation.
Clearly the jolt affects his coordination because his elbow slips from where he’d propped himself up on the couch and he lands on top of Spike with an “umph.” The move may not be sexy but the results are, leaving them pressed together in very promising places.
But if there’s one thing that’s reliable about Xander it’s his ability to ruin a moment. “So what happened to you after Christmas?”
They’re so close he can see the individual hairs of Spike’s eyebrow lift. “You want to talk about that now?”
“Yes.” But it sinks in that he’s on top of Spike and that it feels really good and he doesn’t want to move, unless it’s to remove clothing. “Did I just say that? No! No talking now.”
And he makes that official by officially shutting up and making with the kissing.
It’s all hot, desperate kisses and fumbling underneath clothing. It makes him feel like a teenager again, about to get caught by dad but now he doesn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on him. All the fun, none of the worry and way hotter than he remembers it being.
When Spike starts paying special attention to Xander’s neck, biting him just hard enough that it’s just right, the couch starts to feel too small.
“Let’s…” Xander gasps. “Bedroom.”
Spike nods and lets himself be pulled to his feet. On the way to their objective they get distracted by kissing and groping against walls and doorframes. When they stumble over their boots, Xander uses the momentum to push Spike against the door, grinds against him while biting down on the skin right at the base of his throat.
“Fuck!” Spike’s the one gasping now, eyes open, face flushed. “Bedroom. Now.”
Xander’s good with now. He’s all about the now.
They end up in Spike’s room – it’s at least two meters closer – and Xander shoves Spike on the bed then climbs on top of him, yanking his own shirt over his head.
“Gonna fuck me?” Spike asks, voice low and hands busy undoing Xander’s fly.
“Mmmhmm.” He’s nodding and biting his lip to keep from coming especially now that Spike’s fingers have wrapped around his dick.
He closes his eyes and breathes.
The good feeling on his dick stops. “Well?” Spike sounds annoyed but Xander catches the edge of desperation. He bites his lip again.
“Sorry, just taking in the moment.”
“Plenty of time to stop and smell the roses after.” Spike leans over the side of the bed and returns with a couple of condoms and lube.
The reality of it all makes Xander a man of action and he’s stripped and ready faster than he’s ever been ready in his life. Spike’s ready too: lying back, naked, with his hands propped behind his head and a smile that says he knows exactly how fuckable he looks right now. “Ready?”
Ready? Oh yeah, if there was something more than ready, that’d be Xander.
There’s some jittering with the lube and condom but the smile doesn’t leave Spike’s face. And when Xander reenacts the key incident, it’s not the end of the world. Probably because he’s staring into Spike’s eyes and listening to him say, “It’s okay,” in a rough and sexy but somehow gentle voice.
And it is okay. Especially because he slides in easily on his second attempt and now that he’s unlocked the door, he is so ready to start exploring.
This is the last coherent thought before Xander’s brain goes offline. He’s not sure how long it stays that way because he’s not timing.
He’s a little distracted.
The upside of sleeping with your roommate is that you don’t have to go home in the morning and you already have a toothbrush handy.
The downside is that you can’t use your lack of toothbrush as an excuse to go home in the morning.
Not that Xander is unhappy lying here draped over Spike. It’s just that the morning after’s a good time to reflect. Alone.
And not that Xander’s big on the reflection per se. It’s just the post-sex tactic he developed post-Angel: get some distance so he doesn’t get all heart-broken like some girl in an after-school special every time a guy sleeps with him and never calls. ’Cause gay guys? Very big on the fucking you and moving on. Not in a malicious way, just more of a we-got–our-ends-away-had-fun-and-now-it’s-t
ime-for-the–next-guy sorta thing. So Xander’s learned to go with the gay flow.
But gay flow and Spike are very unmixy. It’s discombobulating but also… nice.
Nice is of course the wrong word to describe Spike or their sex, but somehow it still feels right.
He realizes Spike is looking at him. By the frown on his face, Xander worries that Spike has some hitherto hidden Jedi mind-reading ability. So he’s not expecting Spike to say, “I’m a jerk.”
“Uh, come again?” It did feel like he fucked his brain out last night, maybe it actually happened.
Spike sighs and rolls on his back. “Jerk. Me.” He lights two cigarettes and passes one to Xander. He takes a couple of deep inhales and exhales. “Was using Angel to make you jealous. See if you were into me.” He offers Xander an ashtray and ashes into it himself before returning it to the bedside table. “Was playing fucking games. It was stupid.”
Xander starts to laugh. He doesn’t mean to. He means to say something meaningful or some crap like that but all he can do is laugh and laugh. He does gasp out an incredulous, “I was right.”
“Guess you were. So…” Spike rolls on his side and peers at Xander. “I take it you’re not mad then?”
He swallows a laugh that’s bubbling up. “I was mad. Remember the yelling and door slamming?”
Spike nods. “Fun times.”
Xander rolls over to face Spike. He wants to just kiss Spike but figures since they’re doing the talking thing, he should finish that before they get to the kissing thing. “I’ve got a deal for you: you forget about me being an idiot and I’ll forget about you being one.”
Spike exhales a breath of smoke and warmth, plucks Xander’s cigarette from his mouth and deposits both their smokes in the ashtray. “Deal.”
They seal it with a kiss.
Dating-slash-sleeping-with his roommate turns out not to be the disaster Buffy and Oz predicted.
Spike still leaves his wet towels on the floor but Xander’s learned to avoid their stealth attacks on his feet.
He’s also learned other stuff about Spike. Like how he lived longer in London, Ontario than he did in London, England but when he tells people he’s from London, he lets them assume it’s the cooler one. Xander understands.
Or like how Spike wants to be in a band but refuses to show anyone his lyrics because he says they’re shit. Xander’s sure they’re brilliant.
And then there are all the weird little details. Like how he has to have his steaks rare but his burgers well done, prefers chunky to creamy peanut butter, never puts the cap back on the toothpaste but always leaves the seat down on the toilet – when asked he’d muttered something about his mum.
Xander’s boggles when Spike admits he’s creeped out by Frosted Mini Wheats. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the frosting’s only on one side?”
His favourite is that they share a love for the same pizza: the Bacon Double Cheeseburger. It’s perfect for those nights when neither of them wants to cook, which to be fair is basically every night. But tonight? When they’ve both had to walk home in minus forty Celsius? Definitely a pizza night.
He cracks the lid far enough to sniff the tantalizing aroma of ground beef, bacon and four cheese, then quickly slams it shut so as not to let any more cold into the box. He stumbles home over the icy snow fantasizing about double-cheeseburger goodness.
It occurs to Xander that it’s weird to fantasize about food more than sex. But, hey, still a guy here. Being gay didn’t take away his appetite or love of food. Thank god for the gym. And Buffy.
And the way Spike takes the pizza box from his outstretched arms speaks of his shared reverence for food. It’s why they’re good together.
Well, there’s the sex too. It’s good. Very good. And fun. Oh yeah, and damn hot.
But when you’re tired from the sex, or just plain tired, you gotta have something else. They have pizza.
And TV.
“Who got booted from Top Model?” Xander asks around a mouthful of pizza he’s trying to inhale.
Spike shakes a head at Xander’s vacuum imitation. “The annoying one.”
“They’re all annoying.” He gulps some soda, and burps. He doesn’t know why Spike isn’t jumping him right now – he’s sex personified. “Why do we watch this?”
“It’s on before One Tree Hill,” Spike says as if that settles it.
And it kinda does. Besides Xander’s pretty sure he could watch Men in Trees with Spike and still have a blast.
Sometimes Xander wonders if he should be deeper and think more about where he’s going with his life and what it all means. But then he gets bored thinking about thinking about it.
Besides he’s happiest just hanging out with Spike even if they’re doing nothing.
If there was a way to get paid for just hanging out, Xander would make a fortune. Not that he knows what he’d do with a lot of money. Well, besides quit his job, order a lot of take-out and hang out with Spike watching a lot of television and movies and having hot sex in between. Or sometimes during.
He’s a simple guy, with simple dreams.
Which is good, ’cause that means he can actually live them out.
Now that they’re full from pizza, and Spike’s head is on Xander’s chest, both of them underneath the blanket, he remembers the best thing he’s learned about Spike (well, more from Spike): That it’s even warmer and better when they’re lying on each other with the blanket covering them both.
The cuddling – not that Spike would ever admit to cuddling and Xander would never call it that out loud – actually has Xander happy that Wiarton Willie saw his shadow this year.
Bring on more winter, he can handle the cold.
-end-
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