Chelle (altyronsmaker) wrote,
Chelle
altyronsmaker

Spander! OMG! Fic: Creative R

Title: Crazy
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Characters: Xander/Spike
Prompt: crazy
Word Count: 720
Rating: Adult
Warning/Spoilers: Umm, S4 roughly, but no real spoilers and definitely no warnings.
Summary: Spike shows up and Xander remembers some stuff.

Previously:
“See ya, Jake.” Xander said, and watched Jake walked down the hall a ways before shutting the door. Just as he stepped fully back into the apartment, he thought he saw a flash of white and ducking around the corner, so he checked the corridor one last time before shutting the door.

He wandered back into the kitchen, scanning the floor and the open cabinet and spied a small crescent wrench that he knew didn’t belong to him. He stooped to pick it up just a knock sounded at the door.

He trotted back to the door, and swung it open, saying, “You forgot your wren-”

“Looks like tall dark and dumb’s not the only one what forgets things.”

“Spike,” Xander gasped, the crescent wrench in his hand forgotten. “What...what are you doing here?”



“You gonna let me in, or just leave me hangin’ in the door?” Spike arched a black eyebrow, blue eyes flashing heat at Xander, who frowned at him.

“What?”

Spike’s expression settled into hopefulness and he tapped his fingers on the invisible barrier of the door, reminding Xander of the need for an invite. “Can’t come in, pet, unless you want me.”

Xander shook his head at the endearment, confusion rattling his brain, leaving him searching for the words he knew should be there. Words that would send Spike away, banish him out of Xander’s life just like Spike had banished him. Words that would deny the insinuation Spike had just made, words that would illustrate just how much Xander didn’t want Spike, but then he looked up and all he could say was, “Come in, Spike.”

He waited for the grin, waited for the “I knew it” smugness that Spike could do so well, but it never came. Spike’s expression never changed, just intensified, and Xander could only stand in silence, waiting for what he would do next.

Spike’s hand slid down the door frame, chipped fingernails digging slightly at the wood.

Xander watched them avidly, eyes wide with memories of being woken up with those same fingers in that same stiff arch and the nails leaving sensitive pink trails on his sleep-warmed skin. He swallowed, the thick lump nearly choking him.

Spike stepped over the threshold and into Xander’s space – not just into the apartment but so close to Xander that he could see the white line of Spike’s scar and count the tiny hairs in his eyebrows. Xander lifted a hand, laid it on Spike’s chest. A chest that, beneath the thin cotton was cool and didn’t thud with a heartbeat or rise and fall with a panted breath. A chest that was familiar and missed and his fingers curled into the fabric and his eyes closed and memories flooded through him, leaving Xander breathless and dizzy and wondering how the hell his brain could be so creative with the images it chose to remember.

As his breath hitched in his chest and his fingers fisted into Spike’s clothes, he heard Spike murmur, “Missed you, Xander,” and then there was another set of lips on his and these felt right. Cool and smooth and perfect, belonging - finally - to the right guy at the right time with the right temperature.

Xander’s free hand slid to the back of Spike’s neck, holding him in the kiss. Lips that Xander had not tasted for weeks, he now explored with curiosity, wondering if they’d changed at all, and when they opened beneath his, knowing they hadn’t. They were still right, still delicious, and still his.

And while Jake had been nice and perfectly acceptable, he wasn’t Spike. He’d never be Spike, and anything less than Spike is not what Xander wanted. The sultry, slow, dark taste of Spike is what he wanted and he realized that he’d never settle for anything else. But he had to know.

He pulled out of the kiss and leaned his forehead against Spike’s, panting at the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. The hand that had clutched a fistful of Spike’s t-shirt relaxed, and Xander patted the hard chest beneath it. He sniffed, a sharp inhale of air before looking up at Spike and asking the question he’d been dying to know the answer to for the last three weeks.

“Why didn’t you trust me, Spike?”
Tags: 2007, fic, spander, spander table
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