Title: Just This Side of Bent Part 3

Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Site: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Velvet Crypt

Disclaimer: Joss is God. I own nothing.

Distribution: Sure. Just lemme know where my baby’s going.

Spoilers: Season 7 for living arrangements, i.e. Xander has his place and Spike and Andrew are bunking at Buffy’s.

Summary: Spike shares a bit of ‘hands-on’ assistance to help Andrew go after Xander. (Oh, the combinations of S/X/Ad)

Dedication: To the fine folk at Xandrew (yahoo) for sharing in my new obsession with Xandrew and the wonderful listsibs at Nummytreats for enjoying the warm comfy goodness that is Spander. Ummm…does this make it Spandrewer? ~snert~

“Okay, so who is supposed to be babysitting who here?” Kennedy snickered, hanging on Willow’s shoulder. Andrew flushed, hanging his head. Spike stifled a growl and the desire to rip the young Slayer Potential’s head off for probably the 100^th time since meeting her.

“Whom,” was all he managed to grit out civilly.

Kennedy frowned. “Who what?”

Spike fought off a twitch. “Whom, not who. Who is supposed to be babysitting whom—,” he began calmly before giving up on twitch suppression. “Bloody hell! That’s not the point and you have no say so in it anyway.” He felt his head gyrate like one of those ridiculous chits on those hip-hip (or something) movies the potentials were always watching and finished in an embarrassed mutter. “…Bloody Xena wannabe.”

Andrew ducked behind Spike’s duster and began to shake in silent laughter. Kennedy puffed up and her head had just started to imitate Spike’s when Willow tugged on her arm. “Kennedy, honey, let’s just go upstairs,” she rolled her eyes in silent apology as she pulled the wayward brunette out the kitchen door.

“He can’t talk to me that way, Willow!” Kennedy’s voice echoed down the hall. Buffy turned back to Spike, grinning.

“So, who exactly are you?” she asked teasingly. “First you channel Giles, then you try for the ‘Best Sista in a Slayer Household’ award and now you’re going all sci fi ‘Xena kicks ass’ on us?”

Andrew peeked out from behind Spike’s back and cleared his throat. “Actually, Xena is more of the fantasy genre. Sci fi lends itself to space travel and aliens and you really don’t care what genre Xena’s from and would just like me to shut up and let you talk to Spike okay that’s fine I’ll just be over here working on the next grocery list because, whoa, do Slayers in Training sure eat a lot and—“

Buffy stared in transfixed horror as Andrew just kept going and going. Spike put an end to it by simply clamping his hand over the former Troika’s mouth and nodding at Buffy. “So, Buffy,” he smiled winningly. “How about it? Are you comfortable with having Drew and I heading over to Xander’s tonight?”

Buffy tore her gaze away from Andrew and smiled up at Spike. “Of course, Spike. You were the one who suggested being chained down in the basement, not me. If you think you’ll be okay, then sure…you do deserve a night away from the girls.”

While Buffy and Spike hammered away at the details of the evening, Andrew’s mind focused on one thing: Spike had called him Drew again. Yes, it brought fluffy happy feelings that Spike had a nickname for him; that Spike felt comfortable enough with him to call him that in front of the Slayer. But mostly, it reminded Andrew that, not two hours ago, Spike had called him Drew just before blowing his mind via his cock.

And looky there, Andrew’s eyelids drooped languidly. The little Drewster was making another appearance. Giving in to the first self-inspired sexual impulse he’d ever had, Andrew flicked out his tongue to taste the palm of Spike’s hand.

“I would assume that the carpenter rented 10 or 15 of his ultra-geek movies and so I wouldn’t expect us back until oh, more—er, morning,” Spike caught the moan just as it fell from his lips. He shot a glare at Andrew, who just looked at him innocently, big blue eyes shining with mirth out from behind long eyelashes.

“Are you okay, Spike?” Buffy looked concerned at Spike’s lapse.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he growled as Andrew drew tiny circles with his tongue on Spike’s palm. “Never better. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Buffy still looked worried.

Spike drug his eyes away from Andrew’s and forced a smile for the slayer. “I’m fine, Buffy. So, if you don’t need anything else?”

Buffy shook her head shyly. “No, just have fun,” she smiled and turned to include Andrew. “Both of you, that is.”

Andrew nodded against Spike’s palm and allowed Spike to lead him out of the room, hand still firmly on his mouth. Spike shoved them both back through the basement door and kicked it shut behind them. He turned loose of Andrew’s head and pointed firmly down the stairs. Andrew smiled impishly and bounced down the steps.

Meeting the boy at the bottom, Spike pulled him into his arms roughly. He slammed his lips down on Andrew’s, drinking in the taste. He forced Andrew’s head back and ripped his lips from the boy’s sweetness to nuzzle his neck. Andrew tensed, but strangely enough, Spike sensed no fear…only anticipation. Slipping into game face momentarily, he ran his fangs lightly across the pale flesh, feeling Andrew tremble.

Smiling, he shook the vampire off and looked down at Andrew in exasperation. “You idiotic git,” he shook his head. “First you tease, then you bare your neck to a vampire. Have you no sense at all?”

Andrew sucked in a much-needed breath and flushed. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”

Spike chucked a finger under Andrew’s chin. “Don’t make promises I don’t want you to keep,” he breathed back. As Andrew shuddered again, Spike moved over to his bed and flopped down. “C’mere,” he called, patting the mattress next to him. “We need to talk about Operation Turn-Xander-Into-a-Flaming-Queer.”

Andrew giggled and the sexual tension was gone just like that. He continued to be in awe at Spike’s ability to sense whatever his current companion needed him to be. A moment ago, Andrew was sure Spike was just a few seconds away from slamming him into a wall and fucking him into oblivion. Now, Spike grinned conspiritally at him as he made ready to tutor Andrew in the ways of man-seduction.

Andrew shook his head in amazement. And Buffy passed him up…why? He plopped down next to Spike and smiled. “So, Master Spike, share your secrets with me. Where do we start?”

The next few hours were spent in serious study as Andrew quickly learned that Master was actually a very accurate term for Spike. He seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of what to do and what to say to flick that switch in Andrew’s brain that screamed ‘fuck me now!’ If Andrew had enough confidence to go along with Spike’s thorough teaching, Xander would have the younger boy flat on his back screaming for God before he even realized Andrew had seduced him.

Spike hitched his legs up in an effort to quell his hard on. Talking about sex was one thing. He’d learned early on in unlife that talking the talk could be done without walking the walk. It was just words, and words had no power over him. Of course the slide show in his head starring Andrew’s naked (peach smelling-tight-lickable) body pressed under Xander’s larger (naked-what would he smell like-Andrew’s right, he has a fucking amazing arse-sweat sheened) body was playing havoc with Spike’s ability to concentrate.

And so Spike watched with a barely functional brain as Andrew sat, listening to him prattle on as though he thought Spike were the second coming of Christ. His brow was furrowed as he absorbed Spike’s words; he leaned forward to listen actively; he nodded in all the right places. At least, Spike thought they were all the right places. He had no bloody idea what the fuck he was talking about right around the time Andrew stuck his tongue between those sodding rosebud lips in concentration.

Dear Jesus, how the hell was he going to make it through tonight? If Andrew took his advice, he would have to spend the rest of the evening sequestered on the couch as the other two boys fucked like rabid bunnies in the other room. He didn’t trust himself out on the streets yet, not with his recent backslides into soulless behavior. And with his vamp senses, he was assured of the most sexually unfulfilled evening he’d spent since wanking over the slayer.

He really needed to find a hobby other than playing cupid for a bunch of bloody Slayerettes.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Spike reached out and snagged Andrew’s elbow just as the younger man tensed to run. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked before knocking firmly on the door. Andrew bit back a whine as the door opened. Xander peered out and then grinned, stepping back to let them inside. “Hey, guys,” he waved them in. “I just got back from shopping!” He rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“I picked up some beer, oh, and some JD for you, Spike,” he smiled at the vamp as he shut the door. “I got some chips and dips, some Twinkies and ice cream, plenty of O neg…” he paused a moment. “Okay, that’s just disturbing. I just included your nasty blood in my list of nummy snacks.” He shuddered and turned towards the kitchen, continuing to rattle off the rest of his booty.

Spike felt a pang as he too realized that Xander had thought of Spike’s needs and supplied them as unconsciously as he had his own or Andrew’s. It was getting more difficult by the minute to remember that he was there strictly for the purpose of getting Andrew laid.

“I grabbed some movies too,” he looked over his shoulder with such an adorable caught-doing-something-naughty look that both Spike and Andrew sucked in audible breaths. Xander looked curiously between them, then shrugged and continued, “I picked up all five Star Wars movies and the newest Star Trek for Andrew, both Matrix movies and all three Terminator movies for Spike and mwaphss for me,” he finished with a huge smile and attempted to leave the room.

“Er, I don’t think we caught that last one, Xander,” Andrew pointed out helpfully. Xander winced.

“Jackass,” he said in a pained voice. “I picked up Jackass, The Movie.”

Spike smirked. “Really? I didn’t know you liked Jackass. You always bitched that it was ‘fucking ridiculous’ if I’m remembering correctly.”

Xander glared. “Shut up, Spike or I’ll make you smoke outside.”

Spike halted, mid sneer. “You were planning to let me smoke inside?” he asked in a strangely small voice.

Xander snorted. “Don’t let it go to your head, bleach boy. I just thought you couldn’t really enjoy a boys night out if you were constantly jumping up and down to have a smoke.”

Andrew’s face lit up. “That reminds me,” he chirped. He rummaged in the bag he’d brought with him from the Summers’ house and came up with a carton of Marlboro’s. “Here ya go,” he smiled. “I noticed you were getting low.” He set them on the end table and followed Xander through the door.

Spike sat down without another word. He watched Andrew helping Xander put the snacks away in the kitchen and wondered what it would be like to live in, rather than visit, a house where people worried about you, remembered your favorite things, tried to make you feel comfortable. He was still musing over what the hell was happening when he realized that Andrew was attempting to follow some of his advice.

“So, Xander, thanks for having us over,” Andrew began. “I sure was getting tired of all that girly crap.” Spike barely stopped his snort of laughter as Andrew took up Position #1--I’m a man, oh, yeah. “It’s tough being the only guy in a house full of menstu—er, pmsing women.” Slight slip up, quick catch…doing good Wells, Andrew coached himself slightly. Real men do not say menstruating; even though it is the correct terminology. Arh! He shook it off again.

Xander smiled and tossed him the Twinkie box. “Know what you mean, brother.” Andrew caught the box awkwardly, flailing slightly and blushing at the connotation of a box of twink-ies. “I spent many a year as the only form of testosterone in the room.”

Andrew carefully set the embarrassing box in the cupboard and moved to wash his hands. Xander looked at him strangely. “I’m just washing up,” Andrew smiled weakly. “You never know who has touched your groceries. It’s always a wise decision to wash your hands after handling something that dozens of unhealthy people have touched.” His eyes widened and he dropped the soap container as though it were a snake.

“Not that I actually do any of that,” he blustered, looking for a hand towel to dry his hands on. He flinched and manfully wiped his hands on his shirt. “Cause I like germs! Nasty germs…the worse they are, the better I always say.”

Xander smiled at him as though he were a slightly dangerous escaped mental patient. “Sure, yeah. Er, me too.” He turned to the fridge and went in search of a cold beer. Andrew’s smile dropped as soon as Xander’s back was turned and he clutched at his head in disgust. Get it together, Wells, you fruity nutcase! Nasty germs my ass! He flung his hands up, beseeching the Powers That Be and Spike choked back laughter till it hurt.

Xander turned back around to offer Andrew a beer just in time to see the other man jerk his hands down and smile innocently at him. He smiled back, wariness written in every line of his body. “Uh, here you go, Andrew. Nice cold brewski for you.” Andrew took it with a gracious smile. “You, er, want it in a glass?” Xander offered uncertainly.

Andrew’s eyes lit up briefly, then he tamped his interest down and adopted Position #2—I’m way too fucking cool for sissy things like drinking out of a glass. “No, that won’t be nece—er, I mean, hell, no! No glass for me.” Spike bent double over his arms and muffled his mouth with his duster sleeve. He had himself under control by the time the two men made their way out of the kitchen.

Xander tossed Spike a beer and nodded towards the TV. “Why don’t you pick out a movie while I call in the pizza?” he suggested. Spike inserted the DVD into the machine and then flopped back on the couch next to Andrew to wait for Xander to finish the order.

“I can’t do this, Spike,” the quiet whisper came. “I’m just awful at being manly.”

Spike grinned and patted Andrew on the knee. “You’re doing fine, Drew. Just ease up a bit. Xander likes you for you. Stop trying so hard to be someone else.”

Andrew looked at him skeptically. “Right. Xander likes me for me. Cause what isn’t there to like? I’m a failed supervillian, demon-summoning geek. I’ve never had a girlfriend, much less a boyfriend and I know exactly nothing about what Xander might find attractive in a man.” He dropped his head into his hands. “It’s hopeless.”

Spike tugged Andrew’s hands out from under his face. “Bullshit, Drew,” he stated shortly. “You have a lot to offer. You’re handsome, you like the same things as Xander in case you hadn’t noticed his movie selections, and most importantly…you like Xander just like he is.” Spike shuffled around on the couch uncomfortably. “He hasn’t had a lot of people in his life that have liked him for who he is. Most everyone he gets with wants to change him. S’nice to see him being chased by someone who won’t do that.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes and stared at Spike. “You seem very knowledgeable about Xander’s love life,” he pointed out. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be the one going after him? Cause I can back off,” he pointed out almost hopefully.

Spike shook his head fiercely. “Bloody hell, no!” he hissed. “I have no desire to bed the whelp.” Liar, his head told him. “My only thoughts right now are getting you two together.” And gnawing my gut out breaking you in and handing you over to someone else. “I’ll do anything I can to get to get you two together.” And oh, fucking Lord do I ever mean that literally.

Andrew smiled and gave Spike a quick hug…just as Xander hung up the phone and turned around. Xander looked like he was about to bolt. Spike pushed Andrew off of him and straightened his duster, pretending nothing happened. Andrew just blushed.

“So, er…pizza will be here in about 15 minutes. You want to start watching the movie?” Xander asked nervously.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds fine,” Spike drawled. Andrew nodded like a seizuring puppy and Xander sat down carefully.

Oh, yeah. Sounds just spiffy, Spike sighed.