Standard disclaimers apply.
Squeals filled the office and for once it wasn't because a group of Slayers In Training had walked in on Spike and Xander. Willow and Kennedy were gushing over Buffy's necklace from The Immortal, Buffy and Dawn were admiring the matching henna tattoos the witch and slayer were sporting, and Dawn was putting in an occasional good word for her boyfriend, who had arranged a romantic evening for them that weekend.
It was Valentines Day at the IWC and nothing was getting done.
"So what are you guys doing for each other?" Either this was what Dawn thought Giles meant by his occasional attempts at 'moving on to other matters' or she was just ignoring him like the other women. Xander blinked in surprise at the question.
"Hey, you know my track record on the Big V, I'm largely non-celebratory for the safety of the populace." He grinned over at his boyfriend. "And I think Mr Grumpy Pants here doesn't celebrate anything."
"Nothing with the word 'Saint' in the name, that's for sure." Spike matched his grin and threw in a leer for good measure. "Could have an extra long celebratory-"
"Do not finish that sentence in front of my little sister!" Buffy glared while the sister in question rolled her eyes. "And I always thought you were the hyper-romantic type. You aren't even going to write a nice poem?"
"Don't think I'm the type to inspire poetry, Buff," Xander jumped in before things could turn ugly. He knew the vampire's 'misspent youth' and while Spike was willing to show his education more often these days, talk of poncy poetry writing was right out. "I mean, I don't think anything rhymes with 'pirate' you know?"
"True enough, Luv. What can I say, my Xander's eye is nothing like the sun."
A wave of blinks passed over the female occupants of the room. "But that's good, right?" Dawn finally said. "What with you and sunlight being unmixy..."
"He's mangling Shakespeare," Giles said in his most 'librarian' voice ever, "And pithy Shakespeare at that."
"Oi! Have you know that was my favorite sonnet in school! And it suits my Xan perfectly." He smirked over and continued in his cultured poetry reading voice. "Coral is far more red than his lips' red; A statue's bronzed, why then his flesh is dun. If hair be wires, black wires grow on his head."
Dawn was looking confused, Willow insulted and Giles merely annoyed. Xander was still trying to figure out why Spike would want to compare his tan to a horse color when when the next lines came around.
"I have seen roses damasked, red and white, but no such roses see I in his cheeks; And in most perfumes is there more delight, than morning breath that from my Xander reeks."
Kennedy gave a snort of amusement, Buffy scowled and Xander wondered why none of his English teachers ever told him Shakespeare wrote style parodies. He was so breaking out some Weird Al love songs next time Spike wanted to get romantic.
The vampire just kept going, with a sincere seeming smile at the man he was mocking. "I love to hear him babble, yet I know, that music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a Greek God go; My Xander when he walks treads on the ground."
Spike stepped close and pulled his boyfriend into an embrace, his eyes suddenly serious as he finished the poem. "And yet, dear Xander, I think my love as rare; as any you belied with false compare."
He considered carefully. "Your favorite sonnet, huh?"
The vampire smiled in that way that meant he'd be blushing if he could. "Admittedly, I then spent the next hundred odd years both before and after my death chasing impossibly idealized dreams before I fell for someone real enough to apply it to..."
Xander laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss. "Love your imperfect ass too, Fang."
Giles sighed loudly. "Well, if that's settled, can we please move on to other matters?"
"Sure thing G-man, I'm sure the girls want to hear about your plans too! You still seeing that professor?" He took advantage of further questions and glasses polishing to get a longer kiss in.
A/N : Happy Valentines!
A/N2 : The proper version of the bastardized sonnet in question is 'My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)'. I've always rather liked it, both for snark value and the appreciation of love for an non-idealised lover. I'd link it, but, you know how this site is.