This was written in February, 2004.

TITLE: Coming Out Of the Closet
PAIRINGS: Spike/Buffy, Spike/Other
SUMMARY: He's trapped in the closet!
SPOILERS: AtS Season five, up to Harm's Way
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for the dirtywrong100 closet challenge. The Challenge? "Mint your own new OTP through one of the following scenarios: love letter, dark closet, grope in a public and crowded place, or answering machine message. "

"Yeah. That's it. Just a little lower...Fuck!"

Spike leaned backwards as the pleasure took him, falling into a tangle of clothes as he hit the back of the closet.

It was all worth it, though.

His cock continued twitching long after the orgasm faded. As much as he loved Buffy, and as amazing as the sex with her was...nothing could compare to the high he was now experiencing.

"Bloody brilliant, that was. It's a damn shame we have to keep meeting like this. Hiding from all of them in her closet of all places...Who says we can't go public?"

Pleading eyes begged him to stop that train of thought. Spike sighed and ran his fingers through his companion's neatly trimmed hair.

"Sorry, pet. I didn't mean it that way. It's just so hard to get up here without any of them seeing. Especially her."

Before Spike received a response, the closet door wrenched open violently. There stood Buffy, confused, until she took in the sight before her. Spike. Naked. Well-satisfied, but ready for more.

"Spike?" Her voice cracked. "I knew it. I thought that we--who--" Her eyes widened as the realization hit.

"No. Anyone but him. Spike! How many times have I told you to stay away from him?" The feelings of betrayal quickly morphed into a pure, blinding rage. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? That this time would be different?"

Spike closed his eyes and did his best to blend into the pile of skirts that landed on his head when he fell.

"Buffy, love, it's not what you think. I just needed--"

"Needed what? You chase me around for years, now you have me, and all of a sudden, I'm not GOOD enough for you?"

"It's nothing like that, kitten. We just needed a bit of...manly bonding time. One on one. Something I can't get with you."

"And this male bonding involved him being in your pants? Do you think I'm blind?"

She motioned to the sticky come that pervaded her once-pristine closet.

"How long have you two been in here? It--" She shook her head. "I don't even care. This is it. The final straw, Spike. You have to choose once and for all. Him or me."

"But that's not fair! If you go..."

"He goes with me. As usual. So what'll it be?"

Spike sighed, resigned to his fate. "It's you, Buffy. Always you. You know that."

She cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Here." Spike begrudgingly thrust his hand out.

Buffy smiled. "A wise choice, indeed." She looked down at Spike's lover and frowned.

"Now don't you start in on me, too, Mr. Gordo..."