willshenillshe wanted something schmoopy. I can't ever seen to do Spike/Xander schmoop without sticking Dawn in there, so she's there too. Kinda Shadowversy. If Spike and Xander were together.
Dawn’s asleep across their laps. She’s too big for it, really, but Spike’s not about to say no when she clambers up onto him like he’s her toy hobby-horse. He likes it, loves her bony, growing warmth draped across his body, trusting the arms he wraps around her.
Xander minds. “Hey, no fair!” he complains when Dawn’s twined herself around so firmly they’re going to have trouble unwinding themselves later.
“Oh, hush. You’ve got him at home!”
“Okay, yeah, but that’s different.” He’s long past blushing, Xander, but he does get funny when he talks about this kind of thing with Dawn. “We’re too busy to do things like watch tv!”
Dawn scrunches her face, then wriggles happily as both men tickle her into submission. Eventually she flops down, Spike’s lap as her pillow and Xander’s making the perfect butt-warmer, she tells them. They always laugh, Xander so stuffy in his defensiveness, which only makes her giggle that much harder before whatever movie they’ve picked out pulls her into the story and quiet.
She’s really too old for this. Willow always looks on, disapproval mixed up with fond amusement, occasionally mentioning that girls who are nearly sixteen shouldn’t act so childish. Willow’s just worried, though, and Dawn knows it. So does Spike, too, on his less protective days. Not now, though, when she smells of excitement and sleep, curled over his lap, arms around his legs and waist like she’s claiming everything she holds as hers. Incontrovertible. Spike’s not going to contradict her, either.
“You know, I really shouldn’t be jealous of a sixteen year old girl,” Xander whispers.
“Well, you’ve got less energy.”
“I also sleep less. And that’s not what I meant, anyway.”
Spike knows. Eyes that glow like sun on a bottle of whiskey trace over Dawn’s hold and what she hides beneath. It’s possessive without being possessed. Not appropriate to think of the things they do instead of cuddle in front of the television at home, not when he’s got a bundle of sweetness resting right there. “Pervert,” he teases softly.
“Well, hello to you too, kettle.” Xander grins, teeth flashing silver in the blue light of the television. He reaches out to stroke Dawn’s hair, back of his hand conveniently brushing against Spike’s tummy. “Still not what I meant, though.”
“What, you wanna grow your hair long? Can’t say I’d mind that, really. Shoulder length, with a little pony-tail when you’ve gotta keep it off your face? Mm.”
Xander laughs silently, shaking hair that needs to be trimmed or grown longer as Spike’s suggesting. “You just want something to hold,” he accuses.
Spike’s fingers look even bigger against the ocean of sable they run through. “Not really denying it, love.”
Xander sighs. His eyes half-close in pleasure, making him look just like Dawn when Spike does this for her. “Still jealous,” he murmurs, leaning into the touch.
“Yeah. But it looks good on you.”
Somehow, Xander successfully doesn’t move his bottom half at all as he leans against Spike’s shoulder. His arms snake around Spike’s chest, holding as tightly as Dawn. “Glad you think so,” he murmurs, sleepily kissing Spike’s neck.
Spike searches for his mouth, but the angle’s all wrong and he has to settle for air-kisses at the top of Xander’s head. Below them, Dawn shifts and grumbles, “Will you two just say ‘I love you’ already and let me go back to sleep?”
Their laughter sings Dawn back to sleep. Xander’s not far behind, Spike knows, the deep, even breathing as familiar as the house they sit in. “Love you,” he murmurs when he’s sure they are asleep. He doesn’t know which pair of grasping arms he’s speaking to. He doesn’t care, either. “Love you.”
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