Poor Old Mr. Woogie
Everyone's on about boogie on the radio.
Boogie's pretty big down at the disco.
Boogie boogie boogie everywhere.
Not a mention of woogie and I don't think it's fair.
A body dropped onto the stool next to Spike and set a soda on the table, but the vampire didn't look up. He was occupied. It was incredibly difficult to eat Buffalo wings in public without looking like a total wanker; Spike was exerting himself. He thought he was managing it rather well.
"And here we find the European vampire at rest. Note the almost delicate precision he uses in devouring his prey. Those chicken wings didn't stand a chance." Xander had pitched his voice to a hush and adopted a truly dreadful British accent. How that was meant to make him sound like a naturalist, Spike didn't know. He rolled his eyes in annoyance when he looked up and saw Xander's pose. The boy had put his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands so he could gaze at Spike with false fascination. At least, Spike thought it was false. He'd caught the boy watching him out of the corner of his eye more than once lately. Maybe Xander's present expression of open curiosity was more than sarcasm.
Spike set down the wing he'd been eating and schooled his face into a sneer of disinterest. "If you're so bloody bored, why don't you grab a bint and dance with her? Leave me in peace."
Xander made a face. "That is so not gonna happen."
"Why not?" Spike asked. He scanned the club. "There must be some girls with no taste here tonight."
"Oh! I have been pierced by your rapier wit," Xander cried, holding a hand to his heart melodramatically and lurching back on his stool. He miscalculated and almost lurched right off. Spike watched with amusement as the he tried to right himself nonchalantly. Once he was seated firmly once again, Xander glared at the snickering vampire. "For your information, I could get a girl to dance if I wanted. I just can't really dance. I mostly just do it when I can hide behind Buffy and Willow."
Spike let his accent slip closer to the one he had owned as a young human. "Every savage can dance," he said condescendingly.
"I guess I'm just too civilized, then. I only have two dancing styles: 'spastic freak' and 'strip tease.' And God, please tell me I did not just say that out loud."
"Sorry, mate. I'm afraid you did," Spike said in a gleeful voice. "And now you've got me all hot and bothered to see the Droopy Boy strip tease." The vampire bounced a bit on his seat. He anticipated months of harassment and blackmail from this. "Come on, then."
"Hello! I am so not taking my clothes off in the middle of the Bronze," Xander protested. He looked positively scandalized. Spike considered the mindset of the Scoobies; they could take destruction and mayhem in stride, yet be appalled at the thought of a little public nudity. As far as Spike was concerned, public nudity was just as much fun as public drunkenness and public violence. Put all three together, and you had a good night.
"What's wrong? Got something under those rags to be ashamed of?" Spike knew full well he didn't. Even a prude would have had trouble keeping his eyes to himself in the close quarters they'd been sharing. And Spike was certainly not a prude.
Xander crossed his arms over his chest. "No!"
"Could just dance, you know. Don't have to take your clothes off," Spike said. He curled his tongue behind his top teeth and ran his eyes up Xander's body. "Although anything'd be an improvement over the kit you got on."
"I'm not looking for fashion tips from the Peroxide Avenger," Xander said scornfully. "You probably don't look any better than I do on the dance floor, anyway."
"Reckon you could take me, then?" Spike asked with narrowed eyes. Xander raised his chin stubbornly for a moment, glaring back at him. Then, in a blink, the boy's face changed. Over the last few weeks, Spike had come to know this look. The small, delighted smile and dancing eyes always betrayed Xander's delight when something struck him as absurd. "What?" Spike demanded.
"You wanna challenge me to a dance off, Spike? That's so West Side Story of you."
He tried. Spike really tried to keep his face impassive. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips twitched. Bollocks! "Idiot!" He reached out and shoved at Xander's shoulder, toppling the human right off his stool. The boy glared up at him from the floor before climbing to his feet and making a show of dusting himself off. "Sorry," Spike said unapologetically. "But since you're up, you might as well dance now, aye?"
Xander looked around the club, then back at Spike. To Spike's surprise, he shrugged and said, "What the hell. But I'm warning you now: People laugh at me and I'm spiking your blood with holy water."
Spike sat up straight. He hadn't thought Xander would actually agree. He'd just been planning to pester him mercilessly. Still, he wasn't about to look a dancing fool in the mouth. He just raised an eyebrow and settled in to watch.
The current song was ending as Xander stepped out on the floor, so he waited for a new one to start. The band was good tonight, harder and louder than the weepy bilge Spike had suffered through other nights. The next song kicked off with a rumble of bass and drums, and Xander nodded his approval and closed his eyes. Than he danced. Spike could see why he had called it 'strip tease.' The boy moved liquidly, his hips and shoulders rolling to the beat of the music. His hands wandered over his body, sliding over his stomach and thighs, plucking at his clothes like he was just waiting to pull them off.
Spike never knew he had it in him.
The vampire wasn't the only one watching. He noticed a few young men glaring at Xander when their birds paid too much attention to his act. Xander was oblivious, dancing with his eyes closed and his head back. Both hands were buried in his hair, pulling his head back in simulated passion. To Spike, the way that move bared his long, smooth neck was at least as erotic as the way his hips were thrusting up at the air.
When the song ended, Xander opened his eyes and grinned. He ran his hands through his hair to settle it and walked back to the table. Gulping from his soda, he said, "There. I have once again publicly humiliated myself for the pleasure of others. Happy?"
"I dunno, mate. Maybe you should stick to 'spastic freak' next time. Seems more ... you, somehow."
"Yeah, you're gonna want to work on your insults," Xander said. "I got more of an ouch from Barbara Genoa's teasing in third grade, and she rode on the short bus." Finishing off his drink, Xander waved the empty cup at him in a salute. "I'm taking off. Some of us actually work for a living. Later." Spike watched him go, knowing he wouldn't be following right away.
There was no way he could walk with his trousers this tight.