"Hey, Deadboy Junior. Why are you here?"
Spike rolled his eyes and looked beseechingly at Willow. She winked at him. "Will you dance with me?"
"What?!?"
"I'm not asking again."
"Spike, what is it you always call Angel?"
"Nancy-boy?"
"No."
"Tosspot?"
"No."
"Broody?"
"No."
"Wanker?"
"That's it. Well, I looked that up on the internet-" Spike raised a scornful eyebrow. "I'll have you know I can do a mean Google." Spike didn't say anything, just kept up the eyebrow. "Fine, I admit it. I had to ask Giles what you were talking about until Willow bookmarked peevish.co.uk/slang for me. But I still know what it means. And unlike certain members of the undead, I'm not one. So just stay away from me."
Spike thought a minute. ~It's either him or the Poof. It's either him or the Poof. Remember, the Poof is worse than the div. The Poof is worse than the div. The Poof...~ "What'll it take to make you say yes?"
"Gee, Spike, I don't know. What do you always want from us?"
"Blood? You want blood? Why?"
"Not blood! How thick are you!?" Spike leered at him. "Eww. That was not what I meant! I want the twenty bucks you stole from me last week." Spike tried to affect an innocent air. "Don't even try it. I know it was you. Pay up." Spike sighed and reached into his jeans' pocket. Xander took the bill and tucked it into his back pocket. "Okay. One dance. And no copping a feel."
"Fine. I lead."
"No way, fangless. I lead or the deal's off."
"Bullocks! Let's get this over with." They walked to the dance floor. The band began to play a slow song. Xander put his hands on Spike's shoulders, and he put his on Xander's waist. They started swaying in time to the music, Xander leading them in a slow circle. Spike, sensing a chance to use the situation to his advantage, winked at Xander, and slid his hands down. "Hey! What did I say? None of your wankerness!" Spike ignored him and started massaging with his left hand, and looked down. He took a step closer to Xander, leaned his head forward, and said huskily in his ear, "Down boy."
Xander blushed. "That's not my fault! I haven't had real sex in weks and- what the hell are you doing?" Spike had stepped close enough for their chests to be touching, and started grinding his hips in a slow, erotic circle. His right hand was slowly creeping into Xander's back pocket.
"Junior?"
Spike rested his chin on Xander's shoulder, and said, "From the feel of things, I'm not the Junior here." Xander blushed again.
"I'm a good eight inches!"
"And I'm 'Enry the Eighth."
"You know, if you're trying to get into my pants,-" Spike tensed at this, then relaxed when he realized what Xander meant. Fortunately for him, Xander didn't notice. "Flattery will work a lot better." ~He really is a wanker. Hmm. I wonder if Red knows.~
"Sorry, luv, I've got company tonight."
"Tease."
~The div is flirting with me. If I wasn't so disgusted, I might be flattered. Oh well, at least I have something to tell Willow later.~ "Wanker."
"Pot."
"Howzat?"
"You called me a wanker, which, by the way, not, but isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" During this exchange, Spike's right hand had been working its way into Xander's pocket. Finding the bill Xander had shoved in earlier, and several others, his fingers closed around them. He pinched Xander's left cheek, and snatched his hand out of Xander's pocket.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"Nothing." The song ended, and Spike backed away, concealing the bills in his hand. He gave Xander an evil grin. "Here's to blackmail, mate." Spike raised an invisible glass and lowered his gaze. "Hmmm.. What are you gonna do about that?"
Xander showed Spike the American salute. Spike shrugged, then turned to the bar, leaving Xander to try to casually adjust his pants.
Spike rolled his eyes and looked beseechingly at Willow. She winked at him. "Will you dance with me?"
"What?!?"
"I'm not asking again."
"Spike, what is it you always call Angel?"
"Nancy-boy?"
"No."
"Tosspot?"
"No."
"Broody?"
"No."
"Wanker?"
"That's it. Well, I looked that up on the internet-" Spike raised a scornful eyebrow. "I'll have you know I can do a mean Google." Spike didn't say anything, just kept up the eyebrow. "Fine, I admit it. I had to ask Giles what you were talking about until Willow bookmarked peevish.co.uk/slang for me. But I still know what it means. And unlike certain members of the undead, I'm not one. So just stay away from me."
Spike thought a minute. ~It's either him or the Poof. It's either him or the Poof. Remember, the Poof is worse than the div. The Poof is worse than the div. The Poof...~ "What'll it take to make you say yes?"
"Gee, Spike, I don't know. What do you always want from us?"
"Blood? You want blood? Why?"
"Not blood! How thick are you!?" Spike leered at him. "Eww. That was not what I meant! I want the twenty bucks you stole from me last week." Spike tried to affect an innocent air. "Don't even try it. I know it was you. Pay up." Spike sighed and reached into his jeans' pocket. Xander took the bill and tucked it into his back pocket. "Okay. One dance. And no copping a feel."
"Fine. I lead."
"No way, fangless. I lead or the deal's off."
"Bullocks! Let's get this over with." They walked to the dance floor. The band began to play a slow song. Xander put his hands on Spike's shoulders, and he put his on Xander's waist. They started swaying in time to the music, Xander leading them in a slow circle. Spike, sensing a chance to use the situation to his advantage, winked at Xander, and slid his hands down. "Hey! What did I say? None of your wankerness!" Spike ignored him and started massaging with his left hand, and looked down. He took a step closer to Xander, leaned his head forward, and said huskily in his ear, "Down boy."
Xander blushed. "That's not my fault! I haven't had real sex in weks and- what the hell are you doing?" Spike had stepped close enough for their chests to be touching, and started grinding his hips in a slow, erotic circle. His right hand was slowly creeping into Xander's back pocket.
"Junior?"
Spike rested his chin on Xander's shoulder, and said, "From the feel of things, I'm not the Junior here." Xander blushed again.
"I'm a good eight inches!"
"And I'm 'Enry the Eighth."
"You know, if you're trying to get into my pants,-" Spike tensed at this, then relaxed when he realized what Xander meant. Fortunately for him, Xander didn't notice. "Flattery will work a lot better." ~He really is a wanker. Hmm. I wonder if Red knows.~
"Sorry, luv, I've got company tonight."
"Tease."
~The div is flirting with me. If I wasn't so disgusted, I might be flattered. Oh well, at least I have something to tell Willow later.~ "Wanker."
"Pot."
"Howzat?"
"You called me a wanker, which, by the way, not, but isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" During this exchange, Spike's right hand had been working its way into Xander's pocket. Finding the bill Xander had shoved in earlier, and several others, his fingers closed around them. He pinched Xander's left cheek, and snatched his hand out of Xander's pocket.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"Nothing." The song ended, and Spike backed away, concealing the bills in his hand. He gave Xander an evil grin. "Here's to blackmail, mate." Spike raised an invisible glass and lowered his gaze. "Hmmm.. What are you gonna do about that?"
Xander showed Spike the American salute. Spike shrugged, then turned to the bar, leaving Xander to try to casually adjust his pants.