Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Nekid Colour: Purple (Yeah, I know, so sorry I'm late again -- but only one day this time! Promise to do better next month!)
Word Count: 904
Date Written: 31 January 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
Spike reaches into the dryer as it stops and brings out a leather sleeve. Looking down at the sleeve he holds, his eyes suddenly darken and flash. His forehead protrudes, and he starts to growl. His head snaps up, his eyes flashing again now on yellow, as the door opens and shuts behind him. “What the Hell’s the meaning of this, Harris?” he demands.
“What do you mean?” Xander asks, blinking innocently.
“You know damn well what I mean!” Spike hisses, releasing the jacket. He spins to face his room mate, his back to the dryer and its disturbing contents. “Give me one reason,” he growls viciously, “why I shouldn’t rip you apart right now and spit down your bloody neck!”
“Well, for one,” Xander responds even while beginning to back up toward the door, “the chip.”
“Screw the bloody chip! Taking you out will be worth any pain!”
“Th-Then there’s Buffy,” Xander hurriedly points out, backing away faster.
“The Slayer can stake me after I kill you! How dare you destroy my jacket!” Snarling, he lunges at him.
“Spike!” Xander throws up his arms, bags and all. “What are you talking about?!”
Spike stops and glares at him for just a moment. “You know damn well what I’m talking about!” he hisses, but as Xander continues to look even more clueless than usual, he spins around and stalks back to the dryer. Reaching it, Spike snatches the jacket out of the dryer and holds it up between them. When Xander still looks clueless, Spike stops, looks at the jacket again, and stares hard at it this time. It is a long jacket and made of leather. The thick, leather material has been dyed purple. But it’s not his jacket. His head tilts slightly to one side as he turns and glances up at Xander, suddenly uncertain.
“Your jacket,” Xander tells him as calmly as he can despite the way he’s shaking inside, “is right here.” He holds up the bag from the dry cleaners. “I know how important it is to you, and you did get it slimed while saving me. I wasn’t going to take any chances with it.”
“Then what,” Spike looks at the jacket with a thoroughly disgusted expression, “is this thing?”
“A jacket. But not your jacket.” Xander unzips the dry cleaning bag and holds out Spike’s jacket so that he can see it. “Your jacket’s as good as new.”
Spike drops the other jacket and grabs his out of the bag. He shrugs into it and flips the collar up along his pale neck. He almost blushes at the look Xander gives him. “Shut up, Harris.”
Xander shrugs easily. “Didn’t say anything.”
“And you bloody well better not!” Spike stomps away from him but pauses just before slipping out into the night to mutter something.
“What’s that?” Xander asks, leaning toward him.
“Damn it, Harris! I said thanks is all!” Spike storms out the door, slamming it behind him.
Xander doesn’t jump at the way the door slams. Instead he grins. “You’re welcome,” he says to the empty air. He walks over and picks his costume jacket up off the floor. He snickers quietly at the look on Spike’s face when he’d thought he had dyed his beloved leather jacket purple, but then he remembers how quickly he’d saved him the other night, how determinedly he’d fought, how scared he’d seemed that something had happened to him, and how touched he himself had been at Spike’s concern and determination to save him. “And thank you,” he whispers in the empty basement.
He looks up quickly as the door slams in the opposite direction. Spike strides into the basement. Xander turns toward him, the first piece of his new Halloween costume held in his hand. “Spike,” he says uncertainly.
“Drop the bloody jacket,” Spike snarls.
Xander drops it, still uncertain, and stands, staring at him as Spike strides purposefully toward him. He grabs the lapels of Xander’s Hawaiian shirt and throws him up onto the dryer. Xander squeals in surprise, his heart racing with fear and something else that has gone unspoken for too long between the two men. Without wasting one single second more, Spike slams his lips down on top of Xander’s mouth.
The color drains from Xander’s flesh as his heartbeat roars. Realizing he’s not responding, Spike stills. He’s just about to pull away when Xander raises his hands to his face, cups his head, and kisses him back. They kiss long, deep, and hard, Spike’s tongue thrusting up into Xander’s mouth, Xander’s rubbing against him. Xander moans softly, and Spike, almost as though just now realizing what he is doing, lets him go so suddenly he almost falls sideways off of the dryer.
“Spike -- “ Xander starts breathlessly.
But Spike turns from him and stalks back into the night. “All this for a jacket?” Xander whispers, amazed, and shakes his head. No, it has to do with much more than just a jacket and these few nights. Spike might have stormed out. He might be ripping apart some other Vampires right now, but he will be back. He will come back, and Xander will be waiting. He hesitates for just a moment, then quickly disrobes and pulls on his new purple jacket. Clad only in the jacket, Xander stretches across Spike’s bed, his heart still thundering like a roaring beast, and waits for the Vampire’s return.