Spike fiddled with his tie. He felt entirely too uncomfortable. He looked around the restaurant, searching for his date's face among the throngs of people. Was it uncomfortably hot? He felt hot. Which was strange because he had no temperature.
"Wine?" the snooty Italian waiter asked, holding the bottle he had ordered.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, please." Spike nodded towards his glass.
Spike peered through the crowd again. Was he early, or was his date late? And were all restaurants so uncomfortable?
He couldn't imagine why he was so nervous. They'd had sex before. They hung out and talked constantly. They were friends. So why did the idea of a blasted dinner in a fancy restaurant make him so uncomfortable?
He pictured the night before. They were hanging at his hotel -hotel because he refused to admit he didn't plan on leaving if he was leaving alone-, they were watching some old black and white movies. A normal night, with alcohol, popcorn and thrilling arguments over the film. It was great, until he opened his big, stupid yap and asked for a date. He'd been so lame, and halting in the proposal that he was certain he'd die of embarrassment before hearing the answer. He almost hoped for a "no" so he could pass it off as a joke and that would be that. But of course it was an eager affirmative. And now here he sat, uncomfortable, studying the guests in search of his bloody date. What a stupid idea.
"Sorry I'm late," he heard behind him.
His mood improved substantially when Andrew came into sight.
"You're the one who'll have to deal with a drunk vampire," Spike said tip his glass in greetings. "Working on my second bottle."
"Spike, I wasn't that late," Andrew whined. "You drink way too fast."
"And you drive way too slow. Bad combination."
Andrew rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile.
"Did you order?"
"Just the wine. Figured I'd wait for you. This is the restaurant you picked out, so I thought you might have insight into what tastes best."
Andrew grinned, proud as a peacock. "Yeah, I can help you pick the right meal."
The waiter poured Andrew a glass of wine.
"The linguine with clam sauce is renowned. Oh, and shrimp fra diavolo is delicious."
Spike smirked crookedly. "Brother devil? What kind of meal is that?"
"A hot one."
"Sounds promising. What are you getting?" Spike sipped his wine.
"Don't know. Probably spaghetti."
Spike sputtered indignantly, choking on his drink. "What do you mean spaghetti? What about the dishes you mentioned? What about the shrimp one?"
"Too spicy for me."
"And the other one?"
"Too clammy."
Spike pursed his lips. "With all these elaborate meals, you're choosing something I could have cooked for you?"
"Umm, yeah? I like spaghetti."
The waiter came over, pestering them for their orders.
"I'll have the shrimp fra diavolo, and he will have... spaghetti."
"Excellent choices," the waiter said curtly, and walked away with their menus.
"So..." Andrew said awkwardly.
"So..." Spike answered.
"Our Italian waiter is acting kinda French."
Spike laughed. "He is rather rude, isn't he?"
"Rude doesn't cover it," Andrew whispered.
Spike searched his mind for a topic. It was so easy to talk at home. "This is ridiculous. I'm not supposed to act like teenager at a drive-in movie."
"When's the last time you went on a date, the fifties? They don't even have drive-in movies anymore."
Spike pursed his lips. "That's not the point. But actually, I haven't been on a real date since the eighties. Took Dru to a concert."
"Did you end up eating someone?" Andrew asked skeptically.
"Um, yes? Why?"
"Dates don't involve murder, so that doesn't count."
"But dates involve dinner, so it does count."
Andrew opened his mouth, but closed it. "You're gross."
Spike smirked. "Oh?" he rubbed his leg up against Andrew's. "Is that so?" He dropped his cloth napkin. "I'm also evil, you know." He leaned down under the pretense of picking up his napkin.
Andrew stiffened, biting back a moan as Spike's hand fondled him through his trousers. He tried to inconspicuously shoo the hand away, but Spike was persistent.
"Spike," Andrew choked, "please, not here."
Spike reluctantly grabbed his napkin and sat back up. "Have anymore complaints about my dating skills?"
"No. Nuh-uh. None. Zip. Zilch. Nein."
"That's what I thought."
Their waiter brought their meals, and the next several minute were spent in a comfortable silence as they ate, and drank.
"You know," Andrew said, "most dates have both dinner and a show."
Spike groaned. "I already told you I'm not taking you to that stupid Hobbit film."
"But you said you liked the book," Andrew wined.
"And they turned one good book into three boring movies."
"They aren't boring! They're awesome."
"Boring. Go see it yourself."
"But if I go alone I'll look like a dork."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Pet, that trekkie t-shirt of yours already did that."
Andrew stuck his bottom lip out. "I want to see it."
"I'm not saying you can't."
"I want to see it with you."
"No. I'm not going to sit through that sixteen hour movie," Spike said firmly.
"If you cared about me you would."
Spike's features softened. "You know I care about you."
"Not enough to do things I like."
"I watch Doctor Who."
"You like Doctor Who."
"I watched your marathon of those blasted Lord of the Rings movies. I don't like those."
"Yeah, but you didn't watch them. You annoyed me the whole time so I couldn't watch them."
"So now my kissin' and touchin' you is annoying?"
"You know what I mean!"
"Shh, Andrew people are lookin'," Spike hissed softly.
"I don't care. You aren't listening to me. You never do. We always do what you want, and go where you want, and talk about what you want. If I want anything it's too stupid, or nerdy for you. Why do you even want to be with me?"
Spike would have paled if he could. His lips moved without sound. Finally he said the first thing that came to mind.
"You pick the restaurant."
"After you vetoed my first four choices!" Andrew stood fast enough you knock his chair back.
"Where are you going?"
"To see my stupid, boring movie. I figure it's a sure fire way to get away from you for sixteen hours," Andrew snapped and walked away.
Spike stared after him in shock. "What the fuck just happened?" he muttered to himself.
He thought Andrew was happy. Where did that outburst come from? He thought they had fun together.
The waiter came with the check. "I suggest you pay and leave. And preferably don't come back with crazy dates."
Spike glared at the waiter, wishing more than ever he didn't have a soul so he could rip the bugger's throat out.
"You don't get many tips, do you?" Spike handed over the expense card Angel gave him as a bribe to stay out of his hair.
Without a word the waiter left with the card and bill.
Spike was out of the restaurants five minutes later, vowing never to return. The valet brought his car around and after a nice tip, told him where the nearest theater was.
He made it there in record time, but was stuck in a line from hell. Forty people long, with kids running and screaming, mothers hushing, fathers threatening, teens arguing or flirting with each other and street performers asking for money. By the time he made it to the ticket counter he was ready to kill someone.
"One ticket to the current playing of the Hobbit movie."
The ticket person eyed his suit suspiciously. "Imax or 3D?"
"I don't care. Whichever is on first."
"They're both on."
"3D then."
She clicked some buttons. "We're sold out."
"Then Imax!"
She huffed, "I don't appreciate your attitude."
Spike growled and she typed a few buttons again.
"Sold out."
"Then give me a ticket for the next showing," he said through clenched teeth.
"That's not for another four hours."
Spike wished fervently that he could vault the counter and tear the bitch limb from limb.
"Can I buy one now?"
"Yes bu-"
He interrupted her."Can I enter this blasted theater four hours prior to my movie starting?"
"Of course bu-"
"Then give me the god damn ticket!"
"Fine! Geeze. Psycho much?"
Spike snarled and the girl quickly took his money and issued his ticket.
Spike found where the 3D version was currently playing, and entered. He groaned at the sea of people. How would he ever find Andrew? He couldn't catch his scent through all of these other overwhelming smells. It would take forever to find him if he tried to look.
"Screw it."
He walked to the front of the auditorium and stood in front of the screen.
"Andrew!" he yelled. He could barely be heard over the cacophony of the film and the cries of irritation from the movie goers. "Pet please, if you're here, come to me! I need to talk to you,"
A minute ticked by, and an usher came in to drag Spike out.
Spike pushed the guy off and ran out to the Imax showing. He repeated the same announcement in front of that showing, and three ushers came to drag him out.
He yelled the entire way out of the theater, and was thrown out unceremoniously on his ass. He was warned not to come back.
Frustrated and angry he returned back to his hotel.
He threw his keys on a small table by the door, and slipped out of his coat. He was working on his tie when he came into his living room.
"Gosh it's about time you came back," Andrew said from his spot on the couch.
Spike's eyes widened. "What? Why? When? I mean, I thought you were at the movies."
"I was going to, but I felt bad, so I came here to wait for you. I thought you'd be home sooner. Where were you?"
Spike stepped over to Andrew and pulled him off the couch. "I went to the blasted theater to find you. Got kicked out for disrupting two showings of the bloody Hobbit movie."
Andrew frowned, looking at Spike's agitated expression. "Um, why?"
Spike made a frustrated whining sound. "Because I wanted to find you!"
Spike pressed his lips against Andrew's. His hands fell from his shoulders to wrap around his waist.
Andrew melted into the kiss, putting his arms around Spike's neck.
Spike pressed his forehead against Andrew's as the kiss tapered off.
"I'm sorry. We can do what you want. We can go see the movie. We can do whatever makes you happy. I don't want to lose you. I never want that. I care too much about you. I do. I'm so sorry you thought I didn't."
Andrew ran his fingers through the hair at Spike's nape.
"It's not about the movie, Spike. I've... I've felt this way for a while."
"What? Why? I mean, what have I done? I can fix it."
"No Spike, you can't. Do you remember the night we ... The night after you found out about Buffy and the Immortal?"
Spike furrowed his brow. "Of course I remember."
"You were hurt, and lonely so you took up with me. I was there, I want you, I was convenient. I knew it then, I did it anyway, even though I knew this would happen."
"What's happening? Nothing is happening. Andrew what the hell are you taking about?"
Andrew stepped back. "I can't take it anymore, Spike. I know you love Buffy, I know why you're with me. I shouldn't have let it come this far."
"Buffy? This is about Buffy? Andrew, no. Don't let her come between us. I don't want to be with her. It's over with her. She doesn't want me, she doesn't love me. We're not even friends. Don't. Just, don't let her break us up."
"Spike, if she came in here right now and told you she wanted you, you wouldn't remember my name. You'd leap at another chance with her."
Spike took Andrew's hand. "Pet, I've been convenient. I know how it feels. I would never do that to you."
Spike tugged Andrew against his chest. He kissed his forehead. "I care about you. I enjoy spending time with you. I look foreword to talking to you. I anticipate making love to you. Believe it or not this is the most stable relationship I've been in."
Andrew didn't protest when Spike pushed his jacket off, or when he removed his tie. His own hands found Spike's shirt buttons.
Spike let Andrew remove his shirt button by button, resisting the urge to tear both their clothes off. Instead he set to undoing Andrew's shirt.
Andrew whimpered as Spike's lips explored his neck and chest. He cried out when Spike's hand slipped into his pants.
"I want you, pet. I need you," Spike whispered as he led Andrew to his bedroom.
Andrew had forgotten how good Spike's black satin sheets felt against his skin. Half the time they didn't make it to the bed, and the other half it was Andrew's bed they made it to. His Star Wars bed spread wasn't nearly as nice.
Spike unlaced Andrew's shoes as he kissed up his cotton clad thighs. He slipped them, and his socks off before moving to his belt.
"Wanna show you how I feel. Wanna prove how much I want you. Just you," Spike said as he pulled Andrew's pants and boxers off in one fluid motion.
"Spike," Andrew moaned. Spike kissed up his painfully hard length, causing him to squirm and babble.
Spike crawled up Andrew, capturing his lips with his own. He reached into his bedside table, taking out a bottle of lubricant.
Andrew mewled as Spike licked and nipped his nipple. He felt Spike's hand between his thighs, and relaxed his muscles. He gripped Spike's shoulders when one long finger pressed into him. He moved his hips against Spike's hand, crying for more.
Spike added another finger, and another still, preparing Andrew as well as he could. He peppered kisses against his face and he removed his hand.
Andrew lost himself in Spike's eyes as he felt him press into him. He wrapped his legs around him.
"Spike, oh god, Spike."
Spike nuzzled into Andrew's neck, thrusting slowly into him. He moved to the rhythm of Andrew's thudding pulse.
Andrew held onto him tightly. He wasn't sure what tomorrow held, but he couldn't think about that. Now Spike was his. That was what mattered.
