DISCLAIMER: I was talking to my lawyer about the papers Joss served me. "Why would he serve me with a pre-nuptial? I love him so!" I cried, wailing on his shoulder. "We are soul mates! He's the man I love! My champion! He has a soul, and I know he can be a good man, even if he is a fool for love!" The lawyer pulled away from my snotty, tearful embrace and frowned. "Yeah. Except these are restraining orders," he explained, pointing to the papers. "You have to stay at least one hundred yards away from him." I blinked. "Joss and I are getting married in Paris." I said, slowly. The lawyer sighed.
THANKS: Big thanks to you guys, cause you are really hot and so damn cool. Also, thanks to sisabet and dr. dawn for having dreams of Spander running through their warped little minds.
LAST TIME: Spike got a soul and felt a little nutbar from it...and the demons in the school basement. Buffy dropped Spike off at Xander's for a sleepover party. A sleepover party till Spike wasn't crazy anymore. Xander confronted Spike about his relationship with Buffy. Spike felt glum. Xander felt slightly less mad at Spike and promised to bring him J-ello. Spike still felt bad, but also slightly happy, cause raspberry J-ello is good. It solves all of life's big messes. Like Bounty. The Quicker Picker Upper.
******************************
"Oh holy Jeebus, what are you doing?"
Spike turned around to find Xander standing in the doorway of his room, mouth hanging open in shock. Oh great. Just what he needed. "What's it look like I'm doing?"
Xander leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his jaw mock-thoughtfully. "Well, it looks like you're turning in circles like a dog chasing his tail. I was just wondering why. Oh, and I was also wondering what was up with the new-and interesting-look."
Spike glared. "I wasn't turning in circles. Just couldn't see how these pants fit is all. Seem to have a certain lack of reflection, soul or not." He fruitlessly tried to peer over his shoulder again. "I can't tell how these pants look. Don't want to be too much the ponce you know."
"You'rewearingleatherpants." It came out in a strangled, giggly mess, making Spike glare some more. "Spike. In leather pants. Why?"
"My jeans were filthy. So I went through my bag-"
Xander shook his head. "You have a bag?"
Spike ignored him. "And I found these old things. Never actually wore them though." He peeked over his shoulder again, turning slightly as he did.
"Wait. You have a bag?" Xander repeated, getting another look from Spike. "What? I never saw a bag. Vampires have sleepover bags? Backpacks? Purses?"
"It's not a purse." Spike stopped his spinning and pointed at Xander, who was still chuckling. "In fact, the only male I ever saw carrying what could only be described as a purse was you, Harris. High school ring a bell to you?"
Xander stopped laughing. "It wasn't a purse! It was an oversized pleather carrying ensemble, so shut up."
Spike nodded mockingly and grabbed a t-shirt from his bed. "Right," he droned, pulling it over his head.
"Yes, that's right! I'm all man!" Xander watched the top slide down his chest, blinking when Spike's head popped out of the neckline, eyes meeting his. "Hey...isn't that my shirt?"
Spike shrugged.
"Are you wearing my clothes now?" he demanded, annoyed at the vampire roommate from hell. "It isn't bad enough that you eat all my food, use all the wrong towels, watch TV all day and pace all night while I'm trying to sleep...but now you're wearing my clothes."
"Well, I don't have anything else. The only thing in the bag were these nancypants, and they're bad enough. I just figured you'd prefer me covered." Spike watched Xander's eyes drift over him and felt a little of the old teasing surface. "Unless you prefer me half-dressed..." His voice lowered. "Or maybe not dressed at all."
The pun fell more truthful than sarcastic when it left his mouth, judging from Xander's reaction of wide eyes and frantic glancing-asides. Spike's own eyes narrowed as he watched him stammer and splutter vague denials about never even thinking about Spike that way, and ewwww, shut up you pervert. The boy's body language was just screaming that he was lying. Hmmm. Go figure. Harris was interested. And embarrassed.
"Relax Harris. Just kidding around," he said. Taking a few steps towards the door, he was mortified to hear his pants make a slight squeaking noise. He looked down at them, smoothing nervously. This outfit was worse that the time he'd been forced to wear Harris' schoolboy short pants and Hawaiian shirts when he'd shrunk the laundry. Horrors, that's what that was.
Xander grinned. This was better than the hang-dog expression he'd worn since the day he'd arrived. Xander had thought he'd die of boredom before Spike got his spirit back. "Feeling a little loud?" he asked, enjoying turning the tables back to the annoyed-looking vampire.
Spike raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the outfit Xander was sporting.
"What?" Xander glanced at the dirty jeans and plaid shirt he wore. "I just got back from work. It's not tacky!"
"Okay." Spike shrugged and walked out into the living room, pants swooshing each time he took a step. "And if I ever need a tree chopped down I'll know who to call."
"Shut up." Xander followed him. "This, coming from the guy with the leather pants."
Spike paused. "Hey..." he looked over his shoulder once again, turning in a small circle, and finally gave up. "These pants here...they don't make my bum look..." He swallowed painfully, but spit it out. "Flat?"
Xander choked. "No."
Spike relaxed and sat down on the couch.
"They make your butt look like a bubble. Bubble Butt Spike."
Spike shot back up, furious. "My butt is not bubble-shaped! I'm in perfect health-being dead not included-and my butt is hard as a rock! You could bounce pennies off it! Here...where's a penny?" He looked around franticly.
Xander held his hands up defensively. "Kidding, geeze, calm down." he laughed, ducking as Spike flicked the penny he'd fished from one of Anya's leftover candy dishes at him. Spike actually shot him a quick grin back, surprising him to no end. "I'm gonna grab a beer out of the fridge. Want one?"
"That watered down hog piss?" Spike scoffed. He paused at the look on Xander's face. "Yeah. Sure, why not. I'd love an American 'beer'" Spike caught the can Xander tossed him and popped it, trying not to grimace too much as he drank. Ugh. Terrible stuff.
They sat quietly, contemplating.
"You know who has the bubble-butt?" Spike said suddenly, breaking the silence. Xander looked up at him and nodded.
"Angel," they chimed together.
Silence again.
"Let's pretend we never had this conversation." Xander looked pained at the thought of Angel and his butt.
"Gladly," Spike muttered, downing the last of his beer. The less thoughts of that pathetic souled vamp the bett-. Oh wait, he had a soul now too. Spike groaned inwardly, imagining the two of them running through the streets of L.A., saving puppies from early deaths and old ladies of being robbed of their pensions. Saving with matching leather pants and sad-eyed expressions. Oh god.
Xander looked at his can of Bud, studying the moisture on the outside, daydreaming. It was Friday night. Another Friday night of boredom. Anya and he used to go out for dinner on Friday nights, usually Mexican. They'd go out and laugh and dance, and Anya would wear a sexy little number and be annoyed that her food was cold, then tell him that in her old days she would have cursed a man for that, make him sauté his own eyeballs and serve them to hungry dogs in the ally. And he'd look scared for a moment, vowing that he'd never be dumb enough to break her heart, in any way. Oh...wait. Dammit.
"Do you want to go out for dinner?" Xander blurted.
"God yes." Spike stood up. "Where to? And, uh, your treat, right?"
Xander shrugged. "Hmmm, big surprise. Yeah sure, my treat. How's Mexican sound?"
Spike frowned a bit and looked pained.
"What? Don't like Mexican?"
"No....it's not that..." Spike thought about how much Dru had loved eating Mexicans. Said they were delicious. 'A touch of spice,' she'd murmur, licking her lips with a naughty giggle. 'Have some, Spike.' And he'd laugh and bite down, drinking...
His stomach turned.
"If you don't want to go..." Xander's face fell. Spike noticed and shook his head. Anything was better than another moment in this apartment. He had to get out. Besides, what was he going to say? He was sad because he used to eat Mexicans?
"No no, Mexican is fine. Let's go."
*************************************
Xander looked over the menu at the vampire across from him. Spike was studying the choices carefully, face serious. It was rare that his face wasn't serious, these days. The few smiles he'd gotten earlier were few and far between now. Then again...it wasn't like Spike was Mr. Smiley before the soul. But he did have that snarky sarcastic humor that Xander had secretly liked. He needed more of that right now. He needed more of anything right now.
"Holy bloody..." Spike looked up, face full of wonderment.
"What?" Xander looked around, fully expecting to see a glowing deity or the face of Jesus in a tortilla.
"They have a dish called Deep Fried Ice-cream."
Xander blinked. "Yeah? And?"
Spike looked at him like he was a crazy person. "And? And?? And that's damn brilliant, that's what that is." He pointed at the menu in obvious excitement now, finger stabbing the laminated paper roughly. "Deep. Fried. Ice. Cream. They deep fry it. It's cold and they stick it in a fryer of hot oil!" He trailed off, imagining the wonderful possibilities.
"Never had it before, I assume," Xander said. "It's really the only dessert they hav-" He broke off at the sight of Spike flagging down their waitress. "What are you doing?"
The waitress came over, obviously annoyed at being rudely motioned over from across the room. As she got closer, however, Xander saw how her mouth went from pinched with anger to slack at the sight of the blonde at her table. Humph. Figures.
"Deep fried ice-cream, luv." Spike drawled, making the middle-aged woman practically swoon right there. "Two orders."
"Wait-I haven't even ordered my main course. I don't want dessert yet-"
Spike cut him off. "Those are both for me."
The waitress tore her eyes off of Spike's t-shirted chest (MY t-shirt Xander thought, annoyed) and looked over at the other person at the table. "Sir?" she asked impatiently, pencil poised over her notepad.
Xander looked at his menu, flustered. "Uh...well. I'm not sure. How's the lobster today?" he joked, trying to buy more time.
The waitress frowned. "Sir, there is no lobster on the menu. This is Moxico, not Red Lobster."
"Yeah..." Xander let that one go. Humorless old fishwife.
"Our dinner special is 'Twenty Tacos for Twenty Million Pesos' That's ten dollars," she added helpfully. Xander looked back up in relief at the nice gesture and found she was staring at Spike again, a goofy smile on her face. "Would you be having some tonight sir? After your dessert?"
"Twenty tacos?" Spike looked alarmed. "That's a lot of food." He looked up to find Xander staring at him, a challenge in his eyes. "What?"
"I call a Taco Eating Contest." Xander said slowly, a nasty glint in his eyes. Spike stared at him, refusing to look away.
"You're on," he said finally, voice menacing. "And I'll still have the ice cream. And, I'll still kick your sad ass, Harris."
"You're going down," Xander said, almost rubbing his hands in glee as the waitress gathered their menus and huffed off, annoyed at being ignored in the testosterone-charged moment.
"Harris..." Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Such naughty talk. And me, a virgin."
"What?" Xander frowned, totally missing the innuendo he'd made. "Huh?"
Spike sighed. "Never mind."
"I'm gonna go water the daisies." Xander stood up. "I forgot to order a drink. When the waitress comes back to offer you a hand-job on the house, order me a Bud."
"Ha bloody ha Harris. Very funny."
As he stood at the urinal, Xander contemplated his life. Single. Good job. Long-time friends. An ex that was an ex-vengeance demon. Undead roommate. He shook his head and zipped up. Life wasn't too bad. It was weird, but still okay.
He was still half-smiling to himself as he walked up to the table. The smile froze. "What the hell...?"
Spike looked at him, innocent.
"What is this...monstrosity?" Xander sat down in front of the giant fishbowl glass with the twisty straw.
"The waitress told me about tonight's special drink. Once she was done jacking me off, that is." Spike pushed it closer to Xander encouragingly. "It's called 'Girl Drink Drunk'. Felt it described you to a tee."
Xander took a sip. "It's a raspberry Margarita," he said, unimpressed.
"But it's Moxico-sized," Spike informed him.
"Uh huh. And was your orgasm Moxico-sized?" Xander waved his straw sarcastically.
"Jealous?" Spike asked, voice low. Xander opened his mouth and paused, not knowing how to react.
"Shut up Spike," he said, trying for nonchalant. Why is it he could always do that? He took another drink and almost did a spit-take as the waitress suddenly appeared, dropping a full bottle of tequila and two shot glasses in front of Spike. "What the hell?"
Spike winked at the waitress and slipped a twenty down her top, making her preen like a stripper preens to a fifty. "Thanks sweetheart," he said, giving her a familiar pat on the rump as she left. Xander was speechless. For two seconds.
"You are even crazier than Basement Spike if you think I'm going to drink that with you," he spluttered, watching Spike pour two healthy shots and push one over to him. "Xander and tequila don't mix. I had a bad experience on a road trip once. Found myself shoeless and pantless outside the alley where I washed dishes...and...and...where did you get that twenty, by the way?"
"Loan me a twenty, would ya?" Spike pushed the shot glass closer. "And drink up you massive fairy."
"Hey! No one calls Xander Harris a fairy, except for the entire Sunnydale High football team, that is." Xander picked up his shot and tossed it back.
Spike nodded his approval. "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Xander wiped his teary eyes. "Yes. I see the restaurant doesn't scrimp on their alcohol. I'm sure they found the best bottle a whole two dollars could get them."
"And you only paid twenty dollars for it." Spike poured again.
*************************************
"So I said to the vamp, 'No, I'm not Billy Idol. E's a dammed poofy poofter, that's what 'e is, you bloody, bleedin' idiot.' An' then I broke 'is neck, good an' proper-like."
Spike focused blearily on the man across the table from him. "I do not talk like that. Liar." He reached for his shot glass and promptly knocked it onto the floor. "Oh oh. Need more tiny glasses. And take off that ridiculous hat."
"What hat?" Xander reached up and touched his head. "Ah yes. That hat. And it's called a 'sombrero'. I took Spanish in high school. Plus, I look cool in this hat. Plus, you also have one on."
Spike blinked slowly. "Damn soul. It's making me go out for dinner with a carpenter and wear bright pink hats. I think it makes me get pissed faster too. I used to be a vamp who could hold his drink."
"Maybe..." Xander searched for his giant glass, finally finding it behind one of the empty bottles of tequila"...maybe it's the soul...or...maybe you are just getting old. What are you, like, three hundred years old now?" He pulled his fishbowl forward and took a healthy sip, mesmerized by the liquid streaming upward in loops and curls from his bendy straw. "Heh. It's like a roller coaster of tasty drink."
Spike suddenly figured out that Xander had implied he was old, and sat up straight, offended. Unfortunately, the act of straightening made him lose his balance in his chair and he ended up over-adjusting, sliding off into an untidy heap beside his table. "Bloody....hell."
"See?" Xander peeked over at him. "You do talk like that." His hat slid forward over his eyes.
"You shut it. You and your identical twin right there. That's right, I'm talking to you. Do you know who I am??" Spike got up and pointed unsteadily to Xander's right shoulder.
"Who are you talking to?" Xander asked, pushing his hat back up.
"That wanker that looks just like you, that's who. And I'm not old! Why, your ex was a thousand years old! That's almost..." Spike frowned and tried to subtract. Coming up empty, he grabbed at the tequila bottle instead and drank heavily.
Anya. Xander shook his head. What had happened with the two of them? Here he was, drunk as a skunk in the moonshine shed with an equally smashed vampire who was wearing leather pants and a fuchsia Mexican hat that they'd stolen from the hallway to the men's room. It was Friday night and he was supposed to be out for dinner with Anya, and afterwards they'd play an nice game of 'How the Secretary Got Her Raise', and Anya would be all 'Oh sir! I don't know how I'll ever make my mortgage payment this month!' and he'd grin and tell her he had some extra work she could do to earn it and...
"What the hell are you rambling on about, Harris?" Spike waved the half-empty bottle at him and motioned to the door. "C'mon. Let's get out of this hole."
They wove a path to the door and were just outside when Spike suddenly froze. "We forgot to pay the bill!"
"Of course...the bill..." Xander reached for his wallet and came up empty. "Spike, pay the man."
"Certainly." Spike pulled Xander's wallet from the back of his pants and stumbled back inside.
Xander looked up at the stars and smiled. Such a nice night. So peaceful. So spinny and wavy. He grinned, watching the stars move, faster and faster, turning and turning and...oh god.
Spike came back out, distressed. "I can't believe we almost left before settling the tab. That nice waitress would have had to pay for it out of her hard-earned tips you know. " He paused and looked around. "Xander?"
"Present."
Spike went over to the side of the parking lot where Xander was sprawled in a messy pile. "Ha. I knew you would lose the Taco Challenge."
"Ugh. As god as my witness, I'll never eat a taco again." Xander held his stomach and groaned. "And that waitress wasn't nice at all. And since when do you care about a dine and dash?"
"What? Are you saying I've gone soft? That the soul has made me all emotional? Or are you trying to say I ate Mexicans? Because I. Did. Not." Spike hauled Xander up. "Can you walk?"
"Uh huh,' Xander said, leaning on him heavily. "I can walk. I just need some help to do this 'walk' that you speak of."
"Here." Spike held the bottle of tequila up to Xander's mouth. "Rinse."
"Ewww." Xander tried to push it away.
"Rinse." Spike repeated. "You smell like a wino."
Xander took a mouthful and swished, spitting it out as fast as he could. "There. Happy now?" he asked. "And winos smell like wine."
"Winos smell like vomit, which is how you smelled. Here, let's go." Spike took a few steps and Xander's feet dragged badly. "C'mon now, step lively. Left foot then right."
The two of them staggered wildly and sank to the ground.
"Wait." Spike narrowed his eyes and looked at Xander. "Weren't there two of you before? At that place...you know, where we ate...the place with the alcohol...?" He waved his hand around in an attempt to remember.
"Moxico?" Xander said helpfully from his spot in the grass.
"Yes! That's the place. Nice place, that."
"You called it a 'hole'."
"Did not!"
"Yes you did. And you're wearing my shirt."
Spike sat up and leaned over Xander. "Oh? Am I? Do you want it back then?"
"Uh..." Xander looked up at him, feeling funny. Did he want it back? That would mean Spike would have no shirt on. "Won't you get cold?"
"No," Spike said, a small grin on his face. "Vampire, remember?"
"Right." Xander wriggled a bit, trying not to make it look like he was sneaking closer. Wait. What the hell was he doing? This was Spike. And they were in the grassy area beside the local Mexican restaurant. And they were really really drunk. And he, Xander, was not gay. Gay was Willow's area. And...this was Spike. And he smelled kinda good..."Spike?"
"Yeah?" Spike looked down at him, mouth close.
"I have to pee."
Spike drew back. "Again?"
"Well, yes." Xander rolled over and fought to get to his feet. "Don't you have to go? I mean, you drank almost as much as me..." Spike smirked and held up the bottle in his hand. "Okay, well, more than me. It's a mystery of the ages. 'Do Vampires Pee?'"
"Yeah, it's a question that keeps people up at night, I'm sure." Spike pushed Xander off towards a clump of trees. "Go. Answer the call of nature and all that." Xander shuffled away.
Spike sipped quietly as he waited. And waited. And...waited. "Uh...Harris?"
No answer.
What if he was in trouble? Spike frowned and broke into an unsteady run, dropping the tequila bottle as he ran. "Xander!"
He found him sprawled in the grass under the trees, mouth slack as he rolled him over. "Hey, Harris." He ran his hands over him. No cuts, no bites. No blood. Wait a sec...
Xander let out a snore.
"Great." Spike sighed and shook his head. "You've passed out. This will be an interesting walk home." He heaved Xander up in a fireman carry over his shoulder and almost fell back down. "You lightweight, look at you, being carried like a great girl." Spike stumbled heavily. "Whoops."
"S'not Monday. I dun have homework..." Xander mumbled against his back.