A/N: I recently re-watched (5OO) Days of Summer, which is one of my favorite movies, so I've been wanting to do a similar theme with one of my favorite pairings. I was thinking Inception or Hetalia for the fandom, but I'm not honestly satisfied with how "Smile" is coming along, and I listened to Prince's "Raspberry Beret" for twenty minutes today, and that always reminds me of Buffy (or, really, Xander/Anya) for some reason, so . . . between that and watching Torchwood, which James is in, the idea occurred to me. Enjoy.

There are two types of lovers in the world; those who act upon love, and those who are love, people who can love unconditionally, who are consumed by it.

William is the second type of lover. He has loved three women during his life-time. The first, Celicity, did not return his love; he wrote poems of her beauty, and he was mocked for it. He was not much of a man, he was told-that was the last that he would let a woman know of the sonnets that he wrote for her. The second, Dru, unlike the first, fed his passion; though he was not as sensitive as before, he could fawn over her, he could let her know that she was loved and wanted-and, though she was not faithful, and sometimes she was fickle, she would do something the first would not; she would allow such affection. But the second woman, he was woe to realize too late, allowed this so she could silently laugh at him, so she could see the immense pain in his eyes when she, too, hurt him. From this one, he lost not his desire and passion but his quick forgiveness-and, even more unfortunately, some of his kindness, some of his lustre for affection. The third one, Buffy, he wanted just as badly as the first two-more so-but this one he learned to love silently. Oh, she knew-there was no doubt that she knew. They even had a tryst together for a while, but in the end, she, too, did not really want him; she was a mix of the first two women, in a way. After hurting one another, after instances of intimacy that he wanted and she accepted, they became something akin to friends, and it would simply have to be good enough, because it was all she was going to give him-still it was better than what the other two had left him with. He was not broken or bitter this time-at least not completely-just wiser and maybe a bit hopeful for the future.

Andrew, on the other hand, is full of hope. Never a lover, always waiting for someone to realize how special he truly is. There was one instance with a man, Warren, where he thought that he was getting close, but . . . well, that was in the past. He has a firm belief that things will get better, that they have to. Not that he was in a rush looking for Mr. Right. There were guys that he met and liked, but what made Warren special was that they were friends; they had similar interests, Andrew could actually talk to him; he would actually talk to Andrew. So, friends first. A boyfriend would be great, but he wasn't going to actively look for someone.

They have that last bit in common.

(70)

"I don't know, I don't think you'll do it."

They're sitting in a bar, somewhere between work and Spike's place, somewhere he visits often. They've been there half the night now, and Spike is well on his way to being more than a little drunk, whereas Andrew has barely drunk anything, wanting to savor the night. It was loosening the older man up, making him, to Andrew's delightment, even a little giddy. He usually felt uncomfortable around intoxicated people, but drunk Spike? Drunk Spike was nice.

"You don't think I-you don't think I will do something? Oh, you're on,mate."

Spike spends the next five minutes on stage, singing his drunken heart out to a band Andrew has never heard of but will be sure to Google in the morning. (He also records the moment on his phone, but that's a secret just for him.)

(1)

Spike is staying in Los Angeles. He's there a week before Angel, the caring sod, begrudgingly offers him a job as a bodyguard to one of his more risk-involved clients. It's two weeks later before he accepts the job; the client is dead (or paid; he isn't sure and doesn't care enough to ask) but he stays on anyway, doing the odd protection job here and there. He doesn't like it as much as he could-the clients are usually on the bad side, and Angel could irritate anyone-but the pay is good, and, more importantly, it gives him something to do during the day.

It's on his third day at the job, while he's walking around (lost) aimlessly, that he stops the mail guy to ask him if he's seen his ex (because Harmony is close to Angel's office, and from there, he can find his way around). The guy is caught off guard, probably surprised that someone is actually talking to him. He knows who he's talking about; the two are apparently friends, but Spike doesn't honestly care. After a quick "thanks," he wonders off, not paying any mind to the guy's attempt at making conversation with him.

So it isn't love at first sight; neither one of them are, as said, looking for someone-just yet.

(71)

When Spike wakes up, he's groaning. He silently swears to never drink again, something he's done and broken time and time again; it goes hand in hand with his swear that he'll drink harder. He sits up slowly, finding himself on his bed, dressed the same as the night before, save his jacket is off of him, resting on the chair in the room.

"I, uh, tried to change you, but you kept kicking at me . . ."

He isn't startled; he figured the bloke would spend the night, thinking he would also be drunk. He didn't realize that the man was in the room with him though, laying on the floor next to the bed. He wonders if he nosed around the apartment, but the thought doesn't bother him; he doesn't have anything laying around that he wouldn't want to be seen. (One night stands are common with him, after all.)

He looks Andrew over, checking to make sure there aren't any visible signs that they had sex.

"Breakfast. Now."

A/N: The band that I imagine Spike singing to is The Ramones, if anyone is curious.