Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Don't know how many times I've said this….of course some of it is mine but I hold no claim to Paris, Transylvania, Dracula, Andrew, Oz, Spike or Xander or anything from the Buffy Universe that might pop up within this story.
Warning: Warning!! THIS STORY CONTAINS SLIGHTLY SEXUAL SITUATIONS BETWEEN TWO CONSENTING ADULT MALES. IF THAT'S NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA, THERE IS A BACK BUTTON AND ALL FLAMES WITH BE MET WITH A DRESSING DOWN THAT WILL MAKE YOUR EARS BURN. THERE IS ENOUGH FLAMERS IN THIS STORY THAT WE DON'T NEED ANY MORE. THAT IS ALL.
Author Talk: HI!! As I promised two days late….there are people in the "Bones" section of the site very sad right now but my promises to my Peanuts come first. And admit it…you all miss Spike as much as I do. So here he is....
"SOMETIME AROUND MIDNIGHT"
(and Xander too!!)
Chapter One: Morning Ritual with a Twist
It was the smell of bacon that woke me up. I grab the glow-in-the-dark digital bedside clock to see that it's nine o'clock in the morning. I growl, mildly discontented. I roll off the bed along with a bunch of white sheets and a blue comforter (my lover's choice, we have an alternate set of bedding that's red and black). I rip the rest of the bedding from the bed and make it with my set. Thanks to Beledia LeBrun we have thick curtains that match both sets of bed clothes. The curtains were striped with black, white, red, and blue with cloth hoops through which was thrust a sturdy black rod that ran all the way across the double wide window. We had generic white carpeting over which I had put an authentic oriental found at a second hand store on the cheap.
The entire flat was decorated like this; a combination of my Gothic punk Victorian and Xander's American lack of style. It somehow works, like our relationship. Although we did get matching leather Lazy-Boy recliners, those comfy seats of the gods….bollocks, that sounded like him, didn't it? Bugger. I need British friends. I'm becoming more American and French then English which is just wrong on so many levels. I finish making the bed and take great pleasure in slamming the door open and stalk naked into the rest of the apartment because I still get a kick out of it even after three months of living alone with my boyfriend. I stalk through the heavy curtain-dimmed living room, scoff at the fugly brown leather sofa, and walk into the kitchen.
Xander is cooking bacon at the stove wearing his 'I'm-too-lazy-to-pick-out-decent-clothes-so-I'm-wearing-plaid-flannel-no-matter-what-you-call-me' shirt. I slip my arms under and up the shirt to get closer to his body heat and around his torso. I mold my body to his and nuzzle the spot between his shoulder blades. "Morning." I say…or mumble. Whichever.
"Morning, grease-monkey." I growl deep in my chest and pinch his belly fat to show my disapproval. I've told him a thousand times not to bring up that incident ever again. So, of course like a good Scooby intent on making my life miserable, he mentions it whenever possible. "Shut it, Spike." Of course, I have some influence on him too. "Crap…I'm turning British."
"Could never happen. You're simply not cool enough."
"No. Pretty sure my parents were married…unlike yours." There was the distinctive click of the stove going off. I smirk into his shirt, pleased. I slide a knee in between his legs and inch it upward.
"Spike." Pretty sure that breath meant to be an insult but came out as a mere statement of my name.
"Hmm?" Xander sighs.
"I swear that we're the only couple that uses insults as foreplay."
"You and Cordelia, You and Ahn. You and…did you have more than two relationships before me?"
"Oh." Sore spot. "Buffy used punches as foreplay and Dru scratched."
"Great, we're masochists." I recognized that tone. That particular tone is not an aroused tone. That tone is a moody, none at all aroused tone. I'm morally against that tone.
"Sadomasochists. We give as good as we get. Besides, I love you and anything I say should be taken with a grain of salt and a blow to the head, yeah?" I grind up against him to remind him of the mood that I was trying to cultivate, namely his arousal. "Of course by blow to the head I mean-" I draw out the words for his laugh then trail off.
"You're such a sleaze."
"Yeah, but I'm your sleaze." Xander turned around and I let him wrap his arms around me. He looks down those few annoying inches at me with that big brown eye and leans down to kiss me. I lick at his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He bites my tongue, my lips, his arms resting on my shoulders. My arms are around his waist. He moves his head to kiss at my jaw then moves his hands to grasp my shoulders. We back out of the kitchen, mutually feeling each other up. At one point I stumble and he catches me. I wrap my arms around his neck and he grabs my thighs so we end up stumbling into the couch. He bites my neck gently as I shift, getting stuck to the cheap leather. "Guh, why did we buy this monstrosity?" Xander pauses in his tasting of my neck to look down at me
"Easy clean up." Oh. Yeah. I knew that.
"Huh." I reach up and pull him to me. I push so that I'm on top of him, longways, on the couch. I pull off his shirt and toss it behind the couch where I know he'll have a bitch of a time retrieving it. I grin at that and scratch along his ribs before he can ask what's so funny. His hands run down either side of my spine to grab handfuls of my ass and push to create friction for us both. I reach down his sweats and barely touch him where he's most sensitive. He gasps and I grab hold of his dick which causes a full body shudder. He lets go with one hand to reach into the couch cushions for the bottle of lubricate that we keep there. I move my head to lick the bite mark on his neck which is incredibly exciting to the both of us, him because it such a sensitive spot on his body and me because it means he's mine, really mine.
Ten o'clock found us collapsed together on the couch without a care in the world. Very suddenly, Xander's stomach growls. We look at each other and burst out laughing. "Hungry, pet?"
"Well, you did stop me from finishing making my breakfast."
"You don't need to eat." Xander laughed briefly.
"Really? I was under the impression that I did."
"Yeah, well, your mistake." Xander laughed and threw me off his chest. "WHOA!" I yell as my naked ass hits the ground. "Bitch." Xander chuckled evilly as he stood and pulled up his sweat pants then looked around.
"Where's my shirt?" I shrug innocently. "Spike."
"Yeah?" I look up at him from the floor. "Can I help you?"
"Did you throw my shirt behind the couch again?" I look at him in confusion.
"I might have. I'm not sure. I was sort of distracted at the time." Xander narrowed his eye at me suspiciously.
"You sneaky little fangface." He bounced onto the couch and looked behind it. "Fuck." I mock-gasp,
"Xander! Language!" He turns to look at me from his blindside, realizes that doesn't work and turned the other way. I grin at his annoyed look. He growls at me fairly decently and I attempt to look contrite but I can't help but be a cheeky bastard about it. He growls again for good measure and bends over to grab the shirt. I stand and slap his ass and bolt before he can react properly. I hear him mumble about my little white ass and I cackle evilly as I slam the bed room door shut. I love not living with a bunch of teenaged girls…or Angel….or Andrew for that matter. Of course, I have yet to meet the living soul that would want to live with Andrew Wells. I put on a black tee shirt and my blue jeans with a plain black belt and a weird purplish-bluish dress shirt. I looked down at the shirt and took it off again with a sigh of derision. I don't care what our girls said about fashion. This shirt was still ugly. I drop it into the waste bin (knowing Xander, it probably end up back in the closet) and walk out to the kitchen.
When I get there Xander's back in his fugly plaid shirt making bacon and eggs. I open the refrigerator and grab a bag of OB neg and put it between my fangs. "Don't spill that everywhere." Xander warns me like he does everyday. I flip him off as I'm routing through the cabinets for my favorite novelty mug that states "SUCK IT!" in German, French, Dutch and English. The "Twilight" series is for shit but it did produce a lot of vamp friendly merchandise that I love to buy and give to our brood of Vampire Slayers. The irony kills me. My only regret is that Alex and Kenya both seem to develop an unhealthy attachment to Edward Cullen who, in fact, reminds me of Angel, that great broody poof that originated the whole "I love you but stay away from me" vibe. Makes me gag and I haven't even had breakfast yet! I grab the mug and rip open the bag then dump the red liquid into the cup. I pop into the microwave for a bit and steal some finished bacon from the pan. Xander slaps my wrist with the tongs he was using to flip the bacon in the pan. I chuckle evilly and pull out another pan and a bowl and start to make his scrambled eggs. The microwave beeps and I pull out my mug to sip at it over the stove. The blood's a little bland so I dump some of the undercooked egg in it and Xander blanches and gags. I grin at him and he turns off the stove and walks away. I gulp down the rest of the egged blood and clean out the mug in the sink. He comes back in when I'm setting up a plate for him with the eggs and some toast. "Mail's in." he says as he drops it onto the pass-through bar-island thing. I grunt as he finishes off the bacon and loads his plate with it. I pour him a cup of coffee and take about half of the meat off his plate.
"You're not getting heart disease." He sticks his tongue out at me and digs into his breakfast while I sort through the mail. "Bill. Bill. Bill. Junk. Letter from your mum…why doesn't she just email? Junk. Bill. Postcard from your Aunt-slash-cousin from Puerto Rico…" I turn it over and read it. "They're having a lovely time…yadda, yadda, yadda, when can they visit their favorite relative in Paris." I snort. "God, that's subtle. Not. How they produced you is beyond me."
"A happy accident?" I look at him.
"Yeah, your da ran out of rubbers. I'd call that an accident…I'm not sure about the happy part."
"Believe it or not I was planned."
"You're right. I don't believe it. By the way, have you phoned your parents in Toledo and told them that you're gay now?"
"Uhhhh." I exhale through my nose.
"One day, Xander, you will have to tell them."
"Do I have to tell them that I'm dating a vampire?"
"Living…You're living with a vampire and no, you can leave that part out…I just want you to be honest with them."
"I am. The way you're honest with Buffy." I point at him.
"Hey, that's me saving our relationship from certain doom."
"And not telling my parents isn't?"
"Point." I restart sorting the mail. "Bill. Oh!" The last letter was for me.
"What?" Xander stopped with a forkful halfway to his mouth. "What is it?" I try to block him from seeing but he catches a glimpse of the official looking letter head. "Universite Sorbonne Nouvelle? Why would they be writing you?" I clear my throat and open the letter. "Spike?" I start breathing then stop myself as I unfold the letter and start to read. In English it read Dear Mr. William Pratt; We are delighted to welcome you to the Universite Sorbonne Nouvelle's English General and Comparative Literature program. Within two weeks you will be sent a starter package as well as your orientation date. We hope that you have a productive and pleasant time at Paris III. Sincerely yours;… I exhale and start reviewing the sewer systems, public transports and the like to the campus. Xander had come over and read it over my shoulder. "Spike…when did you apply to college? How did you apply to college? You're dead. You're exempted from the whole higher education thing." I shrug, really happy.
"Did it on a whim really. I always liked school and got bored sitting around the house all day while your off training the girls and thought it seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Spike. You can't go out in the daytime. You're a vampire."
"One of the reasons I applied to Sorbonne Nouvelle. Sewer access right into most of the buildings." I folded the letter up and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans. I shrug again. "If you don't want me to go I won't." Xander looked at me hard.
"Why wouldn't I want you to go? I'm just saying that's seems like it's going to be difficult."
"Yeah, well. Anything in life worth doing is going to be difficult."
"You don't seem like the brainy type."
"You have my memories in your head…I once was the brainy type…and I never did finish school. We're sort of settled here in Paris…for now and…it just….seemed like a good idea..." My voice sort of trails off. I look away, suddenly embarrassed by the whole thing.
"So go do it." I look back at him but don't say anything. "It sounds like you thought this thing out completely….which is rare for you and you sound like you really want it so go do it. I'll be your working class lover supporting you the whole way." I swallow harshly.
"Yeah?" I ask softly.
"Yeah." He steps into me and we hug. He chuckles "Doesn't take much with you, does it?" I bite his shoulder with my fangsin retaliation. "OW!" He pulls back and bops me on the head. "Grease-monkey!"
"Bitch!" The phone rings. He turns to answer it and I steal the rest of his bacon.
"Hello? Hey, Oz…she's what? Yeah! I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll tell Spike." Xander turns around to look at me. "Patricia just went into labor." I start. "I'm going down to the hospital…be there as soon as the sun goes down?"
"Yeah! Go! If she delivers before dark call me, yeah?" He nods frantically. I point at the phone. He startles himself and nearly drops it. I catch it and him before either falls. "Oz?
"Yeah. Xan's a little bit…Xan right now and he'll be there as soon as he gets dressed." I push my lover toward the bedroom cradling the phone to my ear. He jumps and goes as I pull out a pencil and a pad of paper from a draw. "Which hospital is it?" I write it down and pull my laptop toward me from across the pass-through bar to write in the address on Google Earth. "Alright, thanks Oz. We'll be there soon." I end the call and put the cordless back on the receiver. I hit print and bolt across the room to the wireless printer to grab Xander's copy. He bashes out of the bedroom, bouncing on one foot trying to put a shoe on. I shove the map into his mouth.
"Ang uuu." He hums around the paper, attempts to kiss my cheek with the paper still in his mouth, fails epically at it, and races out the apartment. I pull up the city sewer grid and try to find the closest access to the hospital my godchild was being born in….Bloody hell, that sounds weird. My godchild. I'm a vampire who has a godchild….shouldn't it be devilchild? Or vampfather? Or something like that? Just so weird.
Author After Talk: A few days late but fairly good, wouldn't you say? Please say. Feedback is appreciated because this is for you.