Paring: S/X HAU
Warning: Contains very adult content. Strong language
and sexual activity of the m/m nature.
Disclaimer: I tried to buy them but they apparently
aren't for sale so I own none of the products or characters
named in this story and make no money from it.
Summary: Kindergarten teacher Xander meets porn star Spike.
Extra thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and plot suggestions.
After showering and dressing in a plain dark shirt and clean jeans,
Spike came back out to find his boy waiting impatiently in his spot
on the couch.
"Boy, you sure take a long time to wash. You must have a lot of dirty
skin. You gotta hurry. Mr. Harris don't like it when people is late.
Did you wash your hands? Mr. Harris is always saying "wash your
hands cause germs are everywhere." I don't never see 'em but if
Mr. Harris says they are there then they must be cause Mr. Harris
don't never lie."
Spike smiled as he looked down at the boy. His son. His pride
and joy. The child he didn't even know he had till Willow had
shown up on his door step four years ago, strung out, broke and
carrying a bundle that she claimed was his.
He hardly even remembered her till the DVD reminded him. It was the
filming of Pizza Delivery Boy. He was new to the business and stupid.
He had agreed to participate without protection. A lot of the studios
paid extra for it. He knew at the time that she was a street worker, just
doing it for the money and he thought the day he came inside her was the
last time he would have to see her.
After demanding a DNA test, Will did what he could. He arranged
for an apartment two floors down. He paid the utilities and he gave
her money. He had hoped the assistance would encourage Willow
to kick her habit and get back on her feet, but just the opposite
seems to have happened. Now he was almost grateful to her.
Scotty was the best thing in his life.
"O.k. Come on, Buddy. Let's go downstairs and check on your
Mum before I go."
Scotty jumped to his feet and took Will's hand happily.
The apartment was cluttered. Fast food boxes that Will knew
had been Scotty's supper for the last few day were scattered all
around. Dirty dished were stacked up in the sink and there was
a layer of dust covering everything.
Will sighed in disgust and resolved to find a weekly cleaning service.
"Have a seat and turn on some cartoons, Bud. I'm going to pop
in and make sure your Mum is awake."
Scotty did as he was told and his smile never faltered.
Keeping his voice low, Will snatched the blankets off Willow's body
and the bed completely.
"Get the fuck up!"
Willow grabbed a pillow and threw it over her face to block out the light.
"Go away. I'm sick."
Will grabbed up the bottles off the bedstand and started reading the
labels. Valium, percocet, oxy contin, Vicodin, every type of upper and
downer sold on the street, and he tossed them, slamming them against
the back of her head.
Immediately she jerked aside the pillow and sat up.
"All right, you ass hole, I'm awake. Happy?"
Will stepped back and clenched his fists.
"I swear to God, Willow, if you don't get your shit together and start
acting like the mother that boy deserves, I'll call CPS."
Calmly, Willow reached over and put a cigarette between her lips.
After fishing around the pile of dirty clothes at her feet, she retrieved
a lighter and lit it.
"Yeah, that's a good idea. Why don't you go call Child Protective
Services and tell them all about me. Then what do you think they will
do? Take him away? Sure. Give him to you? A porn star? Oh,
wait, a GAY porn star. Yeah, that's what they will do. NOT. You
know they will stick him in a foster home. You know what happens to
kids in the system? Well I know and it ain't pretty."
Will shook his head in disgust.
"You are such a bitch."
Willow sat on the edge of her bed and scratched her head.
"Yeah, I know."
Will turned to leave. At the last second he looked back at her.
"When I get back, you better be up, dressed, cleaning this fucking
apartment and taking care of that boy. Do you understand me?"
Willow didn't answer, but they both knew she had heard and
With a last minute hug and a kiss to the top of his son's head, Will
left the apartment and headed out into the morning. He took a deep
calming breath to clear his head and ease his anger.
Driving down the street, he was reminded of his own school years.
Sent to a boarding school outside of London, it was a time of self
discovery and experimentation. At was an opportunity to learn about
your own body through the hands and mouths of the other boys.
For the majority of them, it had nothing to do with homosexuality.
It was a matter of opportunity and convenience. As the boys grew
older it became a compensation and substitution for what they really
wanted as well as a chance to hone their skills in power and control
on the younger, smaller ones.
As time went on, the older boys would wander into town, meeting
the local girls and finding their way in the world of pussy and breasts.
It was a class that Will never chose to take.
Sexuality, like math and history, were subjects well learned in the
hallowed halls of Radmore Place.
He also remembered the school masters. Male teachers who
instructed with a ruler on the backs of your knuckles and a cold
indifference. Aloof and distant, Will hoped that Scotty's teacher
had a bit more compassion.
Parking out front of the school, Will watched the happy, proud couples
come and go, all there to hear the progress of their sons and daughters.
Will smiled, thinking, 'Scotty deserves that. Parents who love and
care for him as a family. Some day....Some how...'
Wasting no further time on contemplation, Will hurried up the walk
and through the double glass doors. In preparation for today's
open house, the long hallway that led facing him was brightly decorated.
Bulletin boards along the wall were covered with orange and brown
paper leaves, turkeys and traditional pictures of the upcoming
Thanksgiving holiday. There were also signs and arrows making it
easy for the visiting parents to locate the classrooms and teachers.
Within minutes, Will found the one that proudly proclaimed
"This way to Mr. Harris's Kindergarten. -->"
Each of the letters was colored a different color and they were obviously
done with care, love and unskilled hands.
Following the well marked path, Will came to the last door on the left.
The one next to the boy's restroom and he snickered, wondering if that
was coincidence or design.
He reached for the door handle, mumbling,
"Well, you old fart, let's get this over with."
And he stepped inside.