TITLE: Gangsters
S/X do Bonnie & Clyde 1/20
Author: BmblBee
Rating: Overall NC17
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or products named
in this story and have no relationship to the original movie.
Summary: This story was written for the movie challenge at UX.
It is my take on Spike and Xander in Bonnie and Clyde.
Please note that these are not the same characters as would
be in BTVS so please don't complain that they would never do the
things portrayed in this story.

As always, hugs and thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner.
Xander rolled over. He knew it was early, not yet 8 am, but there was
no way he could stay in bed. The sweltering Texas heat surrounded him,
bathing his naked body in a glistening coating of perspiration that had
been a constant for the last month that never saw the temperature
drop below 100.
His bed was nothing more than a mattress on the bare wood floor of the
small, ramshackle house he shared with his father, Tony. He had a three
drawer dresser and a closet. Neither of which he really needed considering
he only owned two pair of pants and three shirts. Four if you counted
the stained white wife beater.
The silence of the small claustrophobic space told him what he already
knew. Tony had left hours ago, long before the sun rose, to report
for duty in the coal mines at the edge of town.
It was a shit job that paid barely enough to keep body and soul
together but in these catastrophic economic days of the early 1930's,
with the country choked under the strain of the great depression, any job
that kept you from having to stand in the long bread and soup lines was
something to hang on to with your life.
Xander, himself, had held a steady for the last two months, an eternity
to a teenager like him, but he knew he should be grateful. Old Mr. Tylke
had hired him on down at Pete's Garage where he pumped gas and did
odd jobs in the car repair.
It paid next to nothing but it was some jingle in his pocket and had the
added real perk of all the free grape Nehi that he could drink. That alone
was not something to be taken lightly considering the heat induced thirst
Xander carried to work with him each day.
Still, he hated it. Xander had been born with the knowledge that he was
destined for bigger and better things. He had always felt it despite Tony's
effort to beat the arrogance out of him. No, all the leather strap had taught
Xander was discretion and patience.
He could wait. He knew it was only a matter of time. Now, speaking of time,
Xander knew it was past that hour that he should have reported for work.
He was already late and Pete would be mad. He would, no doubt, give him
the "hundreds of men out there beggin' fer jobs and you ain't treatin' this
one with respect" speech. He would probably go so far as to threaten to
fire Xander. The same way he did at least once a week.
Still stark naked, Xander wandered over to the bedroom window that overlooked
the main street of town. He pushed aside the stained, torn curtains, totally
unconcerned with his nudity, and he gazed down at bustle of activity. He
watched as two chatty women, their arms looped together strolled into the diner.
He saw Mrs. Beech pushing her baby buggy into the grocer's and he noticed
Toad Tillman's old Ford pickup park behind the feed and grain.
Xander rested his forehead against the hot dirty window pane and he sighed.
"Same old, same old. Fuck."
He then turned his body slightly and looked in the direction of Pete's Garage.
What he saw caused his breath to hitch and his heart to skip a beat.
There, parked at the first gas pump, was a huge, sleek black Ford and
leaning against it, arms crossed, smiling and staring back at him, was
the most incredible, gorgeous man Xander had ever seen in his life.
For what seemed an eternity, the two locked eyes and just stared. Xander's
body was pressed against the glass, every nerve ending prickled and each hair
raised as he watched the man. Slowly, the stranger's lips curled into a smile
as his thumbs slid just under the flaps of his suit jacket before he pointed his
finger in Xander's direction.
Immediately Xander picked up on the unspoken signal and he leapt back,
suddenly hyperaware of his nudity. He looked for a moment at the heated,
fogged outline of his chest, stomach and cock on the glass window before he
rushed to his bedside where he snatched up his stained undershirt and trousers.
In a speed he wouldn't have not believed possible in this unforgiving heat,
Xander was dressed, down the stairs and out the door in a matter of
minutes. He then raced across the main street and over to Pete's garage
where Pete Tylke, himself, was preparing to pump the stranger's gas.
"Hey, morning, Pete. Sorry I'm late. Oh, I'll do that."
"Xander! Damn it, Boy. Late again! Do you know that there are hundreds
of men out there that would just kill to have this job. And you treat it
with no respect. What am I gonna do with you, Boy?"
Xander tried to act calm and casual despite the wild heaving as he
attempted to catch his breath and slow his heart from racing.
"I know. Sorry Pete. It won't happen again."
Xander took over the nozzle as Pete grunted in disgust before pulling a
greasy, oily rag out of his back pocket and wiping his hands as he returned
to the garage, mumbling about the scourge of the worthless younger
generation.
The stranger had silently smirked as he watched the drama play out. When
the old man was gone, he sauntered over and leaned against his car, next
to where the flustered boy was still filling the tank.
"That was quite a show, Xander. That is your name 'innit? Was that
little display all for me?"
Xander's eyes bugged and he stuttered.
"What? No! I mean, I was sleeping and it was hot and, and, HEY! You
shouldn't have been looking."
Spike's eyes slowly slithered up and down Xander's body.
"Maybe I wanted to look. Liked what I saw, didn't I? Strong, young boy
like you. Yeah, real nice. Real nice."
Xander blushed, his cheeks burned hot and red as he turned away. When
he finally thought he could speak without stuttering, he laid his free hand
on the side of the car, desperate to change the subject.
"This is a great car. We don't see to many cars like this around here. That
will be $4.00 for the gas, Mister."
Spike leaned back against the Ford and watched as the boy topped off
the tank and hung the nozzle back on the pump.
"Yeah, liked it as soon as I saw it, I did. That's why I waited till the bloke
that owned it took his fat arse into the bank and I hopped in and drove
it away."
Xander jerked his hand away as if it were burned.
"It's stolen? You stole it? You stole this car? It's a stolen car?"
Spike roared with laughter.
"Sure did. I take what I want, Xander. It's the only way to live. Don't
you ever want things. Things people tell you you can't have or don't
deserve? Things that you know in your heart you have a right to."
Xander nodded, unaware that he was doing so. Truth was, he had studied
on just that very fact often enough. Gradually, a slow smile of understanding
tweaked at the corners of his mouth.
"You ain't gonna pay for this here gas, are you?"
Spike sucked his teeth and stood straight up.
"Nope. And I'll tell you something else. Today is your day, Xander.
This is the day your drab and dreary life takes a turn for the better.
This is the day you make a choice. Do you stay here and pump gas
and stand starkers in your bedroom window or do you jump in this here
car with me and leave for the adventure of a lifetime?"
Xander's heart was slamming in his chest and his fingertips flexed repeatedly.
He could feel the sweat run down his scalp and he could smell the sharp
stink of his underarms. He knew instinctively that this was it. The destiny
he had waited on all these miserable 18 years. His indecision passed like a
fast fart in a hurricane.
"Wait here."
Spike watched curiously as the boy ran inside the office only to dart back
out seconds later. He had a wad of bills in one hand and a grape Nehi in
the other.
"LET'S GO!"
Spike jumped behind the wheel, fired up the sleek black sedan and threw
gravel as they sped away.
all it is? Hope you feel better soon.
How will this end? Hmmm. Knowing it is based on real people
means there isn't a lot of leaway for change.