He woke with Giles again, and ate Spike's cereal to the sound of turning pages. Giles didn't bring up the previous night, or the offer to return to Sunnydale. He didn't even mention his going to bed early. He asked how he had slept, and Xander had skirted around the fact that he hadn't gone to sleep until three-thirty in the morning. Simply answered that he had slept really well, which he had.
Spike had left the T.V. on for him so when he woke to the sounds of Giles' shuffling feet, he also had the sounds of bad dialogue in his ears. Spike had been sleeping on his bed, bleached hair curling softly over his forehead, looking relaxed and approachable even though he was still powerful and coiled tight in that 'loose' black tee and pajama bottoms. Xander had resisted the urge to brush his fingers through the older man's hair.
After his breakfast, Joyce had come down, grabbed the newspaper and settled down next to Xander. She, too, didn't bring up the previous night, and although he felt her gaze every now and again, when he caught her eye, she would give him a sweet smile. After she had finished up the local news, she folded it up and passed it to Giles. After another brief look at Xander, she fished out the comics and handed them to him.
It was actually kind of nice. They all had their sections of the paper and read together in silence almost like they were a normal family. Xander felt more relaxed than he remembered being in the last three months and when he finished the strips of humor, he migrated to the living room alone, which felt huge to him. They let him go alone.
He watched cartoons alone until Buffy and Willow came to join him with their breakfasts. They, unlike the adults in the kitchen, watched him like he would fall apart into a million small pieces. Neither of them really said anything—asked how he was feeling, if he had eaten, would he like something to drink because Buffy would totally go juice some oranges for him—and then settled down to watch shows with him.
He didn't really notice until about noon, but he had been watching the clock steadily. He was waiting for…for Dawn, yes, to make an appearance, to come bounding down the stairs in her purple p.j.'s and hop onto the couch next to him. By one, she hadn't come down, and neither had Spike. He tried not to let it get to him, tried not to fidget, or play with his cast, but as time went on he could feel the antsiness eating at him.
At one-thirty, he made a quick excuse about showering and getting dressed and ran upstairs. He checked Joyce's room first, feeling a bit like a creep, but he saw the bed devoid of bodies. His brows fell, wondering where the young girl was.
Of course, he found her in Spike's room, on Spike's bed, with her eyes glued to the television. Both of them were in their pajamas still, a strange pairing even in their color tastes, with Dawn wearing vibrant purple and Spike in his black. Xander stood in the doorway for a second, just looking at the two of them, taking them in as they stared avidly at the screen.
He admitted, to the Box, that Spike looked edible like he was. He was sleep-tussled and relaxed and completely fixated on the television in front of him. He was sweet, childish. Xander couldn't resist his small smile.
They hadn't even glanced at him in the few minutes he had been standing in the doorway, didn't look like they had even noticed him in the slightest. His smile grew.
"What are you watching?" he asked, brows falling as he finally focused on the show they were watching. It was grainy, and some lady was bemoaning something he wasn't quite sure what, and knew he didn't want to know about.
In tandem, they answered, "Passions."
Xander came further into the room, watching the show as he went. He considered sitting on his bed, but after a brief second's debate he went towards Spike's bed, demanding that the blond, "Move over!" Spike didn't even hesitate, simply scooted closer to Dawn and allowed for Xander to settle next to him. He made himself comfortable in the corner, his eyes dialing in on the screen before him.
He didn't understand what was going on, but he supposed that he wouldn't, seeing as he had never seen the show before in his life and apparently it had been going for a couple of years. He didn't ask about anything though. He didn't think that he would be well received if he did spoke.
They watched the first episode, and Xander didn't complain, enjoyed the numbness of the room. By the second episode, it became apparent that the shows were recorded and that they had apparently recorded at least a week's worth of shows.
They paused between the shows. Dawn tucked her feet under her. Spike pulled his knee up, wrapping one hand around his ankle and letting the other flop lifelessly beside him. Xander pulled Spike's pillow behind him, also letting his hands fall willy-nilly.
It was halfway through the third show. Dawn had brought them drinks between episodes and finally settled on Xander's bed, leaving Xander and Spike alone on the bed they shared. Xander and Spike were both relaxed, leaning back against wall and pillow.
And their hands touched.
Xander wanted to freak out. Knew he should, but he couldn't. Couldn't even move his hand away.
He didn't even try to wig when Spike linked his pinky with his.