nasty shrew
NC-17 Spike/Xander
Xander's known Spike three days when he quits his job as a courier to go on tour with the band.
Warnings for drug use
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Chapter Eleven
It comes down to this. Sitting in an airport, a blue biro with the cap chewed off scribbling the decisions that will change his life. Words spread out across the pages of a notepad that came free with a pizza order describing the balance of Xander’s life (or lack thereof).
Three lists (pros and cons). Spike. Whether to stay with him. Whether to go to England with him. Xander’s life revolved around one person these days – but to be fair he can’t remember a time when his life didn’t revolve around one person.
There was Jesse, hot huff of breath by his ear, Jesse pressing close against him as they hid from the mall security guard – a moment there, an opportunity. But they’re thirteen years old so they spring apart and talk about Ms Peterman’s boobs.
Then Willow, “I love it!” she squeals, fingers running over the God awful attempt of a card – Chanukah spelt wrong, the corner dog eared and an accidental thumbprint over the letter X, she held it as though it were the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.
So, after days of thinking, deciding, reasoning and analysing Xander had still only come to one conclusion: Dr. Phil’s ‘life lists’ were the biggest waste of time since his two week fixation with Dawson’s Creek. He kept reading over them though, reaffirming what he already knew.
List One:
Going to England with Spike
Cons
Feeling totally left out.
Touring again (exhaustion is setting in).
Meeting ‘the birds’ Spike talks about so much.
Spending another few months in a bus with Buffy (I feel sick whenever I look at her).
Pros
London. With Spike.
Having sex underground (the subway makes him horny).
Meeting ‘the lads’ Spike talks about so much.
Seeing Spike’s home.
“What’s England like?” words slipping off his tongue as they basked in lazy Sunday warmth, morning light slipping through the blinds neither could be bothered to open. Spike hummed as he considered, eyes shut, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“In general, or places I’ve been?” he asked finally, voice low with scratches of sleep over his words.
“Places you’ve been. Where did you live, anyway?” a little thrill coupled with his curiosity because Spike almost never talked about the past.
“London when I turned 12. Harrogate before then.”
“Where’s that?” eyes narrowed, Xander tried to picture a map of Britain in his head. Wasn’t much use – he barely had a grasp of where everything was in America let alone the rest of the world.
“Near Yorkshire,” a sudden grin, “I’m a ‘northan basstad’ at heart,” his accent shifted to something startlingly different and he laughed the moment the words came out of his mouth, shifting languidly so he sat with his back to the headboard, the sheets pooled around his hips. “Every summer before we moved to London, we’d visit this little seaside town near Newcastle – Whitley bay. The beach on the north sea, so the water was freezing all year round and I’d be blue and my teeth’d be chattering but I’d refuse to get dry and go back in. And they had a fairground, the Spanish City – bloody ancient place, a mucky, glittery invitation for a law suit. Fucking fantastic. Loved the place. Got my first snog on the roller coaster. Threw up on her afterwards, though,” he lit a cigarette as he spoke, rolled the smoke over his tongue.
“Sounds … cool,” pathetic attempt at snatching the right word out of the ones that spun through his head, but Spike didn’t seem to mind. He passed Xander his cigarette, kissed his throat and slid back down onto his pillow.
List Two:
Staying with Spike
Cons
Wet towels on the floor
Feeling worried every time he’s out of my sight.
Feeling like The Bitter Wife, a fixture of the Harris clan.
Dealing with his mood
Learning to accept that I’m not enough.
Pros
Mind blowing sex.
Living with a
Having someone who gets me and doesn’t mind if I don’t always understand him.
Experiences I’ll never forget.
Did I mention the sex?
“I can’t believe I let you do this,” Xander groaned, catching his lip between his teeth. Spike grinned, eyes wild and God, it felt like all the air was being pressed out of Xander’s chest and the pleasure so was so exquisite it felt like slices in his skin, needles up his spine.
“Knew you were a kinky bugger at heart,” Spike whispered, nipping his ear as his hands dragged down Xander’s sides.
“Don’t stop,” Xander gasped, thrashing his head back, his body arching under Spike’s wicked fingers, his careful tongue. His arms tied to the fixture above his head, a slip of silk across his eyes (figured that the only tie Spike owned was bought solely for encounters like this).
“I won’t stop, trust me,” Spike rasped, teeth at Xander’s nipple, cool expanse of flesh and weight suddenly laying across his legs and a mouth soveryhotslickwet.
It could go on for hours or seconds, delicate torture that was driving Xander insane. He was sure he’d come out of the bedroom certifiable, eye twitch, muttering to himself, the whole shebang. Until then, he’d just lie still and pray Spike wasn’t feeling particularly sadistic.
List Three
Spike
Pros
He’s fun
He’s insane
He loves me
He needs me
He won’t ever leave me
Cons
He cheats on me
He lies about it
He never knows when he’s had one too many
He’s unpredictable
He doesn’t get the concept of ‘no’
He’s insane
He needs me
“You’re still angry with me,” Spike observed, a laugh pulling at his features.
“Well somebody has to be!” Xander yelled.
“What?” genuinely puzzled as he pulled off his boots and walked to the bathroom.
“You. Got me. Arrested.” His words pushed through his teeth, dropping with almost an almost audible clunk onto deaf ears.
“So? Got a warning, is all. Overnight stay in the slammer does a man good. Bit of a detox – a breather,” and he had the cheek to say it with sincerity as he stared at his reflection, pulling a tissue over the smudges of makeup across his face, lips, neck. Not all of it was his. None of it was Xander’s.
“What the hell is wrong with you!? It was a prison, not a day spa!” said with such exasperation, hands fluttering about his head. He was one step away from the edge and all Spike could do was laugh as he shed his coat.
“Things could have been worse, Xan. That fat bloke with the shaved head was making eyes at you and who knows what sorts of depravity might have gone on if I weren’t there – you’re lucky Buffy told me you were …”
“Will you stop! For once in your life, just fucking stop!” yelling again, a tear at the edges of his words, a slight hitch to his breath. His fist pushed down into Spike’s face and within a snap of a second, Spike was staring up at him from the floor with a thick stroke of red running down his cheek.
“This what you want? Fine,” he muttered. Xander couldn’t speak.
Found he didn’t need to.
Fist in his stomach, nails down his neck.
A handful of hair, crisp and brittle blonde.
Dull thud of his heart, dull thunk of flesh, dull click of bones shifting.
The world had been smothered in red and bathroom tile.
…
“I’ll go in the morning,” Xander said, watching Spike pick absently at the cut on his lip. Spike’s gaze snapped up, his brow furrowed.
“Why?”
Xander blinked. Stared. Nodded to the smudges of bluepurple and slashes of red across their bodies. Naked, of course – every encounter with Spike ended like this. Naked, utterly drained in every way a man can be.
“I hit … I …” swallowed down his own disgust when he thought of it, shut his eyes and let his head rest on the cool of the bathtub. He started at the warm slick skin that cupped his face, the calloused fingertips dragging across his lips.
“Not like I didn’t throw a few of my own. You needed it. I needed it. ‘S what we are,” he makes it sound like it’s normal, like people always beat each other up while they kiss in hotel rooms. Xander shuts his eyes again. Being with Spike meant redefining normal.
___
“What’s that?” Gunn asked, nodding to the slips of paper Xander was reading.
“Nothing,” he said, not looking up.
“Right. Nothing. Well, you’re staring pretty damn hard at ‘nothing’,” he observed, eyebrow raised. Xander snorted, shoved the scraps of paper into his pocket, didn’t reply. Gunn shrugged, shifted his hold on Fred. She was fast asleep in his arms, delicate features smooth and expressionless – stillness found in sleep. She was exhausted and had fallen asleep the moment they sat down at the gate (another four to go before they could board the plane). Touring pulled the life out of you, left you wobbling on your feet – and there was still a way to go. They were scheduled to tour England next, another three months.
He glanced back to Xander whose head was dipping occasionally, shoulders sinking. Boy was dog-tired, that much was obvious. Spike must keep him awake (the man hardly ever sits still long enough to sleep). “Where’s Spike?” he asked suddenly, only just noticing that he was nowhere to be seen. Xander started, jerked out of the beginnings of sleep. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, looked around blearily.
“I … he gets bored waiting. Probably at a Starbucks harassing the customers or something,” words flippant, though his tone was anything but. Gunn felt bad – he hadn’t wanted to start something. Xander had enough to think about after the whole ‘Buffy vs. Spike’ disaster.
“He said something about going to the bathroom,” he offered. He wasn’t lying. He just didn’t mention the fact that Spike had announced he ‘needed to take a slash’ about an hour ago.
“If I keep hanging out with Spike I’ll have a heart attack by the time I’m thirty,” Xander muttered, slight smile when Gunn caught his gaze. “’S okay. I always thought it’d be cool to die young. And odds are I’d be having sex at the time,” a joke, good natured laugh when Gunn rolled his eyes. A beat. Silence between them, like a vacuum in the flurry of activity around them. Gunn glanced down when Fred mumbled something in her sleep. When he looked up again, Xander was gone.
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