Just An Ordinary Sunday
by Saber ShadowKitten

Xander wondered if there was anything more perfect than an ordinary Sunday
afternoon. A soft rain pattered against the casement windows of the
apartment, blending with the soft sounds from the television. The rich
smell of coffee drifted in the air, awakening the senses before the caffeine
awakened the body. The Sunday newspaper was spread open on the kitchen
table. Xander leaned on his elbows, mug of coffee clasped between his
palms, reading the sports pages. He was dressed comfortably, a plain tee
thrown on over his jeans, and his hair was still damp from his recent
shower.

Xander glanced up when the television went off and Spike unfolded himself
from the couch. The sleep-tousled vampire wove unsteadily towards the hall,
rubbing his eye with one hand and scratching his backside with the other.
Xander snerked and went back to reading the paper.

Spike returned a short while later, having donned a black tee and white
socks with his green plaid sleepshorts. His hair, which hadn't been cut or
bleached since last Christmas, was a two-toned, curling, mussed mop on his
head. He padded into the kitchen, stocking feet silent on the off-white
linoleum, and poured himself a cup of coffee, using his favorite mug. It
read: "Mornings suck, which is why I don't get up until after noon."

The blond plucked a pencil from the jelly jar on the counter, which was
filled with other writing utensils, scissors, various screwdrivers and
pliers, and an American flag Xander had gotten on the Fourth of July. Spike
dropped his glasses case and the pencil on the kitchen table, pulled out the
chair next to Xander, and sat down. Sipping his coffee, he sorted through
the sections of the newspaper until he found what he wanted. He opened the
paper to a page mid-way through, slid on his glasses, picked up the pencil,
and went to work on the Sunday crossword puzzle.

It was just another ordinary Sunday at the Harris/Barstow residence.

Since the destruction of the Initiative, Xander and Spike had fallen into a
comfortable routine. Life was nice and complacent. [It's like living with
a brother, if I was in Arkansas.]

The first month after Adam was no more, Spike barely left the apartment.
Depression and post- seizure fear had kept him close to home. There was
much snuggling on the couch [which I in no way minded] and sweet, reassuring
kisses that made Xander's insides mushy. As the weeks continued to pass,
however, and no new life and death situations occurred, Spike became less
clingy and more like his normal half-psychotic, half-neurotic self. Hard on
the outside, soft and gooshy in the middle. [Like an old Starburst Fruit
Chew. Lemon flavored, because he makes my mouth pucker. Heh.]

Xander was happy, hopelessly horny, and hesitantly hopeful that things would
either stay the way they were or progress in a forward moving direction. Or
horizontal. He wasn't too picky.

"Giles called," Xander said conversationally, setting his mug on the table.
"He bought The Magic Box on Friday and wants us to go over there and be his
free labor."

"First a flashy motor, now a shop," Spike tisked. "Next thing you know,
he'll have Buffy in his bed. Or the witches, if he's lucky."

"Okay, that's just gross," Xander told him. [No! Bad brain! Eew!]

"Why?" Spike looked over the tops of his glasses at Xander. "Rupert isn't
that old, and your chums are hot bits of fluff."

"He's *Giles.*" Xander shuddered. "Giles can't have sex with Buffy or
Willow! That's- that's like incest! Not to mention very, very icky!"

"Hmm," Spike responded non-committally. "I just thought Rupert 'I'm Going
Through My Mid-Life Crisis' Giles might be looking for companionship in the
near future."

"If he wants companionship, he should get a dog," Xander said. Spike's brow
shot up and a corner of his mouth quirked. Xander caught on to the double
entendre, and punched him on the arm. "You are a sick, sick vampire."

The blond chuckled and returned to his crossword puzzle. [Yeah, you can
laugh, Disgusto Boy. I'm the one who's going to suffer from the mental
pictures. Barf.]

Xander took a large gulp of his cooling coffee to get rid of the taste of
bile in his throat. He stood, went into the kitchen, and poured himself a
fresh cup. On the return to the table, he swatted Spike on the back of the
head. Spike laughed. [Bastard.]

Settling into his chair again, Xander went back to reading the newspaper.
The rain continued to pitter-pat-pat against the windows, adding atmosphere
to the comfortable quiet of the apartment. When he finished with the sports
section, Xander folded it neatly and dug out the comics. He glanced at
Spike as he unfolded the paper, and a soft smile crossed his face.

Spike worried his lower lip as he studied the crossword puzzle in front of
him. Several locks of hair had fallen over his brow and, with his glasses,
he looked every bit the Assistant, Assistant Librarian he professed to no
longer be. He leaned forward, a frown of concentration wrinkling his
forehead as he penciled in an answer on the page.

"I love you, Spike."

Spike paused briefly in his writing, then finished filling in the word. He
laid his pencil down, removed his glasses, and folded his hands in his lap.
He turned slightly on his chair towards Xander and, head down, asked
hesitantly, "Er, what was that?"

"I said: I love you," Xander repeated, casually sipping his coffee. Inside,
he was surprisingly calm. At peace. [I'm channeling my inner-Yoda.] It
just felt right, telling Spike now. There were no apocalyptic disasters
hanging over their heads; death was not imminent; it was just an ordinary
Sunday in August, and he was in love with Spike.

"Oh. Um..." Spike started to fidget, his hands twisting in his lap. He
looked everywhere but at Xander. "Uh..."

[Adorkable.] Xander probably should not be enjoying the flustered blond's
reaction, but it was amusing. He hadn't expected returned declarations of
love, [heck, I didn't expect to *profess* love today,] so this was
entertaining enough.

"But we haven't even... ah...," Spike's hand fluttered in the direction of
the hallway, "...so how can you know that... erm..."

"Spike, I don't have to fuck you to know that I love you." [Is Spike
hyperventilating?] "The two aren't fully related."

"But... but..."

[If he starts sucking his thumb, I'm going to melt into a puddle of mush.]
Xander set his coffee on the table, captured a nervously gesturing hand, and
kissed Spike's knuckles. He held the trembling [gooshy feelings!] hand and
addressed the distressed man.

"Listen, you don't have to say or do anything just because I told you how I
feel," Xander said. "I simply wanted you to know."

"How long?" Spike croaked. He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing
dramatically. "How long have you l-loved me?"

"Since about April." Xander released Spike's hand, stood, and went into the
kitchen, giving the vampire some 'breathing' room. He poured his coffee
into a travel mug.

"Oh," Spike said faintly. "That's a bloody long time."

Xander dropped a kiss on top of Spike's head as he passed, heading for the
door. "I'm going over to The Magic Box so you can process this in peace.
If you're gone when I get home, I'll understand." [I'll hate it and be
miserable for possibly *ever,* but I'll understand.]

He didn't look at Spike as he left, afraid to see disgust replacing surprise
on the blond's face. If Spike was going to break his heart, he'd rather it
happened when he wasn't there. [And that makes sense only to me. I hope
Giles stocked chocolate at the store. I'm going to need at least a pound to
get through the next few hours.]

*****

The Magic Box was starting to resemble a store again, rather than a hotel
for dirt and creepy-crawly things. Xander's legs ached from carrying boxes
up and down stairs, and his hand throbbed from hitting it with a hammer.
[Not my most shining of moments.] Between himself, Buffy, Willow, Tara, and
Giles, they would have the store ready to open tomorrow. [Well, not really.
Giles would have to do inventory and restock and all that fun stuff first.
Which reminds me: don't answer the phone for the next few days.]

He still couldn't believe Giles had bought the store. Neither could Willow
or Buffy. In fact, every other word out of the Slayer's mouth had to do
with death and Giles's apparent wish for it. Xander agreed; he knew how
many proprietors were now pushing up daisies. [I'd like for Giles to stay
daisy-free, thank you very much.] But Giles insisted he was not an idiot and
that The Magic Box was a good investment. So the worker ants kept working,
and Xander ate lots of chocolate.

"Where do you want this, Giles?" Buffy asked, standing beside a glass
cabinet.

"Ah...," Giles looked around, then pointed, "...over there, if you'd
please."

"'Kay." Buffy easily picked up the cabinet and moved it.

"Do you have any idea what all this stuff is?" Willow said, shifting through
an open box.

"No," Giles admitted. "But there is an inventory list around here
somewhere. I'm certain everything is on it."

"Your bookshelves are assembled," Xander announced from the loft, dropping
his screwdriver into his toolbox.

"Very good." Giles gestured to a pile of boxes at the bottom of the
stair-ladder. "If you would bring those boxes of books up there, please."

[Woohoo, more boxes to carry!] "Sure, Giles."

The bell above the front door jingled, and Xander froze at the top of the
stairs as Spike rushed inside, followed by a gust of wind and a whole lot of
rain. He slammed the door shut and turned to greet the others with a
twisted smile. "Rain's picked up a bit," he said wryly.

That was an understatement. Spike was drenched. His hair was plastered to
his head, and droplets of water hung from his ears, nose, and chin. His
clothing clung to his body like a second skin beneath his duster, outlining
his lean muscles and turning Xander's knees to jelly.

"You look a little wet," Buffy teased.

"Like a drowned r-rat," Tara added with a timid smile.

"You could wring me out and create a lake in the desert," Spike said,
looking around the store. His gaze found Xander and skittered away
immediately, the smile disappearing from his face.

[Horrid, ripping pain...]

"Come along, Spike," Giles said, beckoning the vampire towards the back
room. "I have a change of clothing you may borrow."

Xander sank down on the top step of the stair-ladder after Spike had
followed Giles out of the main room. He didn't know what Spike's being at
the store meant. The blond was on friendly terms with everyone, especially
since Adam royally screwed him over, but he didn't go out of his way to pal
around with them.

Xander was still sitting there when Spike emerged from the back, dressed in
Giles's clothing. The soft ivory shirt he wore was a tad big, and the cuffs
on the cotton dockers were rolled up. He looked completely and utterly
adorasexy. [Whimper.]

The girls apparently agreed with Xander's opnion, because they fawned over
Spike. Xander growled [my vampire,] stood, and stomped down the steps. He
turned his back to the salivating masses and surveyed the boxes of books he
was to take up to the loft. [Eenie, meenie, myvampire, mo.]

Hefting a heavy box up the stair-ladder was no picnic. The steps were
steeper than the ones to the basement, and the books had to weigh a billion
pounds. [And there are at least eight more of these boxes. Can we say
'hernia,' class?]

Xander set the box in the back corner of the loft, turned around, and jumped
with a manly squeak of fright. "Spike!" he exclaimed, pressing his hand to
his pounding heart. "Don't sneak up on people like that."

Spike smiled devilishly, his blue eyes sparkling. Xander's heart, if
anything, pounded harder. "Sorry," the wildly curling blond apologized
insincerely. "Won't do it again... today."

"That's good to know," Xander said warily. "Um... what are you doing here?"

[No! Please! Not the pout!]

Spike ignored Xander's mental pleading and his lower lip slid into pouting
position, glistening with moisture from recent licking. [Must... resist...]
"Don't you want me...," Spike paused significantly, before adding,
"...around?"

"Saying things like that is a surefire way to get yourself kissed," Xander
pointed out, his voice growing husky.

"Maybe...," Spike stepped closer, so they were toe-to-toe, "...that's what I
want." He abruptly dropped his chin and cleared his throat. "If- if you,
er, do, too."

Xander grabbed him by the shoulders, spun them both, and pressed Spike
against the convenient wall. "I always do," Xander growled. Spike looked
shocked and pleased and aroused all at once, his wide blue eyes flecked with
gold.

Xander's mouth descended upon the vampire's with a hiss of need. There was
no finesse in this particular kiss, just a fierce, raw passion that ripped
through all barriers. Emotions were stripped of their wordy camouflage and
laid bare. The kiss was primal. Primitive. Base. And elicited wild
applause and wolf-whistles from the peanut gallery below.

Xander angrily broke the kiss and glared down at his so-called friends.
Tara blushed and hid behind her hair. Giles pretended to be busy. Willow
and Buffy grinned unrepentantly and bombarded him with cheers for more. [I
am going to kill them.]

"Xan?" Spike's soft call drew the brunette's attention away from the girls
and to the debauched man plastered to the wall in front of him. The
vampire's desirous gaze was focused upon Xander, and he said thickly,
"Home?"

"Home," Xander agreed. "Now."

They only made it as far as the Bel Air, parked on the street a block from
the shop. Or rather, against the car, in the heavily pouring rain which had
soaked the borrowed ivory shirt Spike was wearing and molded it to his torso
and robbed Xander of coherent speech.

Xander pressed Spike against the side of the car and devoured him with
hungry kisses, ones that were wetter than the rain. One hand gripped the
vampire's white-blond hair, the other bruising his backside. Xander pushed
his thigh between Spike's legs, bringing his hip flush against the marble
hardness beneath the dark cotton trousers.

And then there was writhing. Heavenly writhing against a hell-spawn
creature with the blue, blue eyes and wet cotton trousers that did nothing
to hide what Xander felt digging into his hip. But he didn't see, couldn't
see past the black and white and red spots dancing behind his eyelids. He
heard a strangled sound, but couldn't tell if it came from him, or Spike, or
a cat that had been kicked. It really didn't matter, because Spike was
shuddering in his arms and placing sloppy kisses on his neck and...
[*INCOMING*!]

It was raining outside, the softening end of a downpour that had washed
everything clean. The rich scent of coffee drifted from the Espresso Pump
as the side door opened, and a man with a newspaper emerged. He unfolded
it, held it above his head, and hurried down the street through the drizzle.
It was just another ordinary Sunday in Sunnydale, but Xander found the one
thing more perfect than that.

"I, uh, don't think Rupert's gonna want his trousers back," Spike said
sheepishly.

Xander threw back his head and laughed.


End