"No. Goddamn. Way." Xander stated flatly, folding his arms across his chest. Jenna raised a pierced eyebrow.
"It's funny - you say that like you have a choice in the matter," she said sweetly, shifting on the park bench with an elegant poise that looked strange on the girl with dreadlocks, more than one piercing and various tattoos. Xander pulled his coat tighter to him, shuddering as he watched white mist come out of his mouth when he breathed. Fucking Pittsburgh and it's lousy, stinking, freezing October weather when Jenna had a cushy surveillance job in Hawaii. She probably landed it because of her 'thing' with the Boss. Bitch. Bitter? Him? Never!
"You can't be serious," he stated flatly, rubbing his freezing hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. "Did you even discuss this with the Boss? Oh, never mind I can just hear your argument. Send the poof in to baby sit the new hellmouth – he won't mind working in a sleazy gay club where he'll feel right at home!" Xander said resentfully, throwing his hands in the air. He blinked, wondered whether he'd just referred to himself as a 'poof' and decided he was spending way to much time with Spike.
"You've been working in this firm for five years and every year you piss and whine about your assignment. So what are you going to do now, Harris? Complain to your union?" Jenna shot back, who was now discreetly pouring whisky into the cup of steaming coffee she held in her hand. Fucking Starbucks with their tasty warm coffee and long lines and stupid goddamn mocha latte things that made him stay twitchy for hours. "Besides," Jenna continued, looking like she was enjoying this way to much, "this isn't my decision. The order comes straight from the top. The Boss wants to keep an eye on this Hellmouth. We didn't know it was smack bang on top of a gay night-club now did we? Believe it or not, the universe doesn't revolve around the fact that you're as gay as a tangerine, so why don't you grow a pair? You and Spike were picked because you've already dealt with Hellmouth shit ..."
"Wait. Spike is going to be here too? Again?!" Xander interrupted. Jenna pinched the bridge of her nose,
"Yeah. I told you. Wolfram & Hart, Mr. Angel's people, they like to keep tabs on all our our open investigations. He's their key player," she said,eyes fixed on a grey squirrel that satin a tree opposite them. She licked her lips. Xander felt uncomfortable. "You two will be posing as lovers. Again.The Boss already worked it out with the owner of the club and Mr. Angel.You're tending bar and Spike is posing as an eccentric, manager who sorts out music for the club and just happens to be fucking you," she said, a slightly malicious grin spreading across her features.
"This is unbelievable." Xander moaned, running his hands through his hair. This would be the third time he and Spike would have to pose as a couple during an undercover investigation. Typical. Just typical.
"What's unbelievable is that you two have faked being a couple twice on the job, for exceptionally long periods of time, and you didn't shag once. I mean, I know he's an annoying, blood sucking fiend but come on, I see you two ogling each other all the time. Just get it over with, the sexual tension is crippling," Jenna said, acting as though she were completely oblivious to Xander's glare.
"Everyone knows you have a thing for The Boss," Xander retaliated childishly. Jenna flipped him the birdie. "Grouchy this morning, aren't we? That time of the month, again?" Xander asked snidely. Snidely becase, hello, he'd been forced to hang out with Spike, who was the King of Snidedom.
"Go scew yourself, Harris," she snarled.
Ah, Xander amended that perhaps 'that time of the month' hadn't been the best phrase to pick when talking to a werewolf.
"Here's everything you need to know, including your new identity. Certificates, passports, the works. Noah gave Spike all his info too. He's being briefed and will meet you in the Liberty diner in a few minutes. So, remember, act like a couple from the moment you walk in. He'll know what the deal is. Stay a while, get something to eat, make sure the locals see you two nice and cosy before you go off to your new apartment," she paused and almost looked sympathetic at Xander's wince. Almost. "The addresses you'll need are in the file … you start as of now. And don't look so pissed off about the whole thing, you're getting paid twice what I am for this job," she said, pulling an alarmingly thick grey folder from her back-pack and shoving it onto his lap.
She stood and picked up her things, moving away. Xander nodded goodbye and watched her stride towards the road, ignoring the curious looks shot her way. She paused and turned, looking thoughtful, "Shag him at least once this time!" she called, blowing him a kiss before leaving. She could be a sadistic bitch – one whom he'd grudgingly grown to admire and trust. Even though she could get really annoying.
Xander wondered vaguely whether he should be worried that his toes were now growing numb in the cold.
He looked down at the file in his hands and sighed, opening it just enough so he could read the address. Liberty diner was on, no prizes for guessing this brain teaser, Liberty avenue. So. He stood and decided to walk to the diner, wanting to move about and clear his head before he arrived at his destination. He tried to put the newest batch of information into some sort of order. He was going to a diner on Liberty Street,before setting off to his new home above a hellmouth, in Pittsburgh. He was also going to be left alone for an indefinite time with Spike and pretend they're a couple - and yeah they were sort of friends now, but there was a limit to how much one can stand of the bleached vamp. Their mission: to baby-sit a dormant Hellmouth beneath a gay night-club where he was to pose as an innocuous bar tender. Just another day in the life of Xander Harris, employee of the well respected private investigators of all things creepy, Fanghorn and Burks©.
He made a mental note to ask for a pay rise. Maybe he could find aa Carclops demonto kill for a Christmas bonus or something.
Before long, Xander stood before the door of Liberty diner. It wasn't a bad place, pleasant and cheerful enough to make Spike uncomfortable. So, there was a plus. He stepped inside and was grateful to be out of the cold, spotting Spike's platinum locks in the back corner booth straight away. He was well dressed and groomed despite the flight, with a dark purple tank top on and his usual leather duster and black jeans. Xander walked over, remembering to assume his new alias. His altered name: Alex Crocus. Spike's? Well, he'd done enough under cover jobs with Spike to know he always stuck with his nickname, regardless of the warnings and reprimands for not following procedure. "Hey," he said, flopping down on the seat opposite with a 'thunk'. Spike grinned.
"Hello, Alex. Did Jenna tell you what your new occupation is?" He asked gleefully. Xander heaved another sigh and let his head drop onto the table. Spike clucked his tongue and petted Xander's hair. "Poor boy. Not feeling too well?" he asked, trying to sound compassionate. Hah. Spike and compassion. Two mutually exclusive words.
"Honey, is he alright?" a woman's voice asked from next to him. Waitress. Xander wanted coffee. Black coffee and sugary doughy things. The only problem was he couldn't lift his head. So he grunted and waved.
"Alex'll be fine, pet. Just a bit a but of jet lag. One black coffee and one tea, please," Spike replied, laying on the cockny accent thicker than it ever was when he was talking alone.
"Sure thing. Anything else, Spike?" the woman asked, using the nickname almost teasingly. Ah, so Spike had already made introductions. Xander could hear the smile in her voice. Damn Spike and his stupid English charm.
"Uh, what would you like Alex?" he asked, sickly sweet, his voiec grating on Xander's already freyed nerves. Xander opened his mouth, but was unable to stop a yawn from escaping and thumped his head back onto the table. "Sorry about him. Doesn't like flying - we just got in from a holiday in London. You'd think he'd be glad to get home," Spike said, his voice tinged with exasperation as he stroked the back of Xander's neck. Xander decided they were getting way too good at this. "He'll also have a cinnamon roll," Spike said, petting Xander's hair again. Xander narrowed his eyes. Spike knew he was slightly allergic to cinnamon but would eat it anyway because he liked them, and would suffer with indigestion later. Evil bastard.
"No problem sweetie," the woman said before Xander heard her shoes squeaking away.
"Ta," Spike called, waiting until she was out of earshot. Spike's hand withdrew and he leant in so that he was next to Xander's ear.
"What's wrong with you? One too many Shirley Temples last night?" Spike asked mockingly. Aha. That was the Spike Xander knew and … tolerated.
"Fuck off, Spike. I think I may be coming down with something." Xander muttered, his voice muffled. He could almost feel Spike rolling his eyes.
"With what? Bubonic plague? Influenza? Syphilis? Oh, please, tell me it's syphilis. Brighten up a bored vampire's day," Spike asked cheerfully. Xander dragged himself to a sitting position and narrowed his eyes.
"We made a deal. No syphilis jokes from you, and I won't make any jokes about really bad and romantic poems someone used to write." Xander said threateningly. He fondly treasured his memory of the night Spike got rotten drunk and recited poetry that he'd written as a mortal for three hours before passing out onto the floor. Ah, bliss.
"Bad tempered little sod, aren't you?" Spike muttered, fiddling with a sugar packet. Something occurred to him and he looked up, looking animated, "You know how we're supposed to make connections with the locals here, yeah?" He said suddenly, making Xander jump slightly.
"Yes," Xander said warily. Spike had an idea and seemed pleased by it. As a rule, this was never a good thing.
"Well, me and Noah were thinking and we came up with the perfect idea to make friends, fast," Spike continued, making Xander's stomach flip. Noah and Spike often had their 'ingenious' plans, most of which, ended up with Xander getting punched, and someone in jail. "See, Noah is going to come storming in acting as your homophobic brother. He's going to harass us, generally act like an arse and you'll have a scrap. I'll come to your rescue and chuck him out. Voila. Loads of sympathetic fairy friends." Spike said, looking supremely pleased with himself. Xander's eyes widened.
"What? Why am I the one who always gets hit? No. This is never going to work, someone is going to end up in jail like the last time and …"
"Too late." Spike said gleefully when he noted Noah walking through the front door with a baggy t-shirt and a scowl on his face.
Xander flopped his head onto the table. Again.
Noah was in jail and Xander had been punched, as predicted.
"The Boss will bail him out. But I told you it would work, didn't I?" Spike said, grinning as he passed Xander a bottle of antiseptic. Xander ignored him. "Aw, come on Harris, quit being such a baby. It's only a few cuts and scrapes for the cause an' all that," he added eyeing a random painting that hung in their newly assigned apartment.
"Shut. Up. Now." Xander growled, moving the only pointed wooden implement he could find -a salad fork- closer to him as he carefully dabbed at the cut above his eye. The eye that worked.
"And what about that Debbie, eh? Nice bird, that one. She introduced me to a kid who was working there, Justin summat, who offered to show us around," Spike continued, blithely ignoring Xander's order, "I think he fancied me, but then, who could blame the poor boy. My charm is irresistible, after all."
"Spike!" Xander yelled. Spike raised an eyebrow, making Xander want to snap his neck. "I'm going to bed now so I can get a few hours sleep before work. Then I am going to wake up, take a shower and get dressed before getting a cab to the club, Babylon. You are not going to speak to me, poke my cuts, or turn the TV up so it will wake me. You will do whatever it is you do and stay out of my way until tonight where we pretend to be madly in love. Got it?" Xander was using his Dangerous Voice now, the quiet one that made informants shit their pants and tell him anything he wanted. The one he had taken months developing and perfecting.
"Been practicin' that?" Spike asked, eyebrow raised and sporting a look of complete bemusement.
Xander walked to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him so hard that it shuddered on it's hinges.
To be continued