Title: Tuesday Night Flight Club

Author: Misha
Rating: NC-17 for explicit m/m sex
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Spoilers: General Buffy 4^th season

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Summary: Xander continues his conversation with Spike.
Length: 1100 words
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. own the universe and characters. I’m just playing with them.
Author’s Note: Sequel to “Monday Morning Going Down”

Feedback: Relished at mishamcm@livejournal.com

Copyright (c) October 2000 Misha

Xander’s sitting on the edge of the bed, those broad shoulders half hunched over, all broody. //Such a pretty toy you are.//

“Penny for your thoughts, love?”

Xander turns his head slowly, looking sick to his stomach at first. Then that anger washes over him – his eyes all glinty dark, shadowed as if he had a real vampire brow, a whisper of a malicious grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A real beauty.

“You still here, freeloader?”

Spike gestures at the window. “Hello. Daylight? Crispy as that dinner of yours last night?”

“It would serve you right. You burned it deliberately, didn’t you?”

Spike cocks his head to one side and back, like drawing back the hammer of a pistol. “How many vampires do you know who can use a microwave? Our meals come pre-heated.”

“You don’t have any trouble warming up your blood. Besides, the instructions are right on the box.”

“I get sick enough looking at the sodding picture. Read that tripe and I’ll be as dull as you lot.”

“Oh, I forgot: places to go, things to do. No, wait, you just lie around all day watching soap operas.”

“So get cable. I could do with some extreme sports.”

“Your sports are extreme enough, thanks.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this bloody chip,” as he taps his temple. “Rather be doing it than just watching.”

“So you say. You seemed much happier watching Dru do the nasty than doing it yourself.”

//Pillock.// “Injured. In a wheelchair. All thanks to your gang.”

“And we were all broken up about it.”

“That’s right, make fun of the handicapped. What a saint.”

Xander’s been drifting slowly closer, and now he jabs a finger in Spike’s face. “That’s just humans. You were only evilly-challenged. Oh, excuse me – still are.”

“That’s right. All plugged up. Just like you.”

Xander’s scowl drops, just for an instant, then he’s back in swinging. “That doesn’t mean anything. That was just a fantasy. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Where’d you read that? Mademoiselle?” And before Xander can speak, Spike cuts him off. “Sorry – you just get it for the pictures, right?”

“Hey! You could use to learn how girls think, you know.”

“Teach me, oh Wise One.”

And I can see he’s just about to slug me, but then an idea pops into his head, and he pulls this pair of handcuffs from a drawer.

“Won’t Anya be mad at you using her toys?”

“Shut up, Spike.”

And I figure, could be a kick, so I let him. Boy needs to let that vicious streak out now and again. So it’s one end around my left wrist, and the other on the radiator. Pretty tame so far. And he pulls back my other arm, so I’m off balance and don’t have the leverage to lift him off his feet. At least he’s putting his lobes into it.

And then the bastard grabs a shoe and chucks it, not at me mind you, at the wall. And I’m set to laugh when it hits and the window shade rolls open. My left hand starts to sizzle, and even under the howling a bit of my gray matter is thinking, //Clever lad. Between the pain and the position he’s got me in, he can hold me here.//

I start pulling and wailing but he’s in there first. “Nuh uh! Break the pipes and I get scalded.” And as soon as he’s put the thought in my head the chip starts clanging away, and my eyes go crossed.

I’m not even sure what happens next, but next I know I’m uncuffed and flat on my back, clutching my hand and digging up obscenities I haven’t used in a hundred years, and he’s standing over me, his shorts down, his pride-and-joy bobbing, and he says, “Hungry?”

And he bites his hand, the fleshy bit at the base of the thumb, and slicks his cock with his blood. He doesn’t have to warn me not to mangle it; my brain’s already frying at the thought, and I can feel my face go human again as I push the thought out of my mind.

And I think to myself, //I s’pose he’s earned it.//

I’m watching the wanker sleep it off, and suddenly it hits me.

It was all my idea. I told him his conscience was like my bloody chip, right? So I can’t do the nasty to humans. But I can do whatever I like to demons. So the boy figures I’m fair game.

And that’s when the plan hits me. Beauty, beauty.

Xander opens one eye. //Not quite dark yet.// Spike’s sprawled in the armchair, his legs at right angles as if they don’t get any closer. And Xander smells something, a little burnt, but not in a bad way.

“What are you doing, Spike?”

Spike glances over, the morsel in his fingers poised just before his mouth. “Watching the telly.”

The blue light makes his skin look dead, makes his cheekbones protrude like a famine victim’s. //Then again, that’s how it makes living people look, also. The Great Equalizer.//

He has to shake his head to shift his eyes to the TV.

“You’re watching =Baywatch=.”

Spike points at the screen. “Get a load of that bird, eh?”

“Yeah, you want to eat her.”

“Can’t eat people. I’d do her, though.” He shifts his stare to Xander. “Wouldn’t you?”

“You’re eating popcorn.”

Spike turns back to the screen. “Mm-hm. Salty. Want some?”

“And what are you drinking?”

Spike holds up the can, still fixedly focused on the screen. Xander’s face is motionless, too. “You’re drinking my beer.”

“Shh. Don’t want yer mum to hear.”

“You’re drinking my friggin’ beer.”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll get more soon as it’s dark. Quality stuff this time. You don’t think they’ll card me, do you?”

And Xander just stares. Spike waits a beat.

“Did you want to watch something else? I think there’s a dysfunctional family sitcom on Fox.”

Xander just gapes for a while, then his jaw goes taut. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. Just watching the telly.”

“Shut up.”

“All right, I’ll get whatever swill you call beer here.”

Xander’s voice is just a whisper. “Shut up, Spike.”