naughty_fae (naughty_fae) wrote in bloodclaim,

The Duke And The Dirtwater Fox

Title: The Duke And The Dirtwater Fox (A VERY LOOSE S/X adaptation of the movie The Duchess And The Dirtwater Fox)
Warnings: HAU, M/M sex, humour, mild violence, swearing, angst, OOC, vague mentions of het sex, prostitution, varying chapter lengths. UNBETA'D. A little use of movie dialogue and songs.
Rating: NC17 overall, various chapters PG-NC17
Pairing: 100% S/X (With vague reference to X/OC, S/OC pre meeting.)
Author: Naughty_Fae
Comments: Comment if you want to, though it would be nice to know someone is reading it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to someone who is not me. I write for fun not profit.

AN 1: Although Sunnydale characters have been used they are NOT necessarily in their Sunnydale persona's.

Note 1: This is set in the West of the 1880's, and it is not meant to be historically accurate. It mentions both the Mormon and Jewish faiths. This is fiction, it is a comedy, no disrespect is meant to either faith.

Note 2: My heartfelt thanks go out to my dear friend Bmblbee, for holding my hand through the writing and posting process. *Hugs*

Note 3: This is a plot driven story. What sex there is happens in the natural course of the plot and as part of Spike and Xander's relationship.

Summary: Xander Harris is a young, charismatic cowboy making his way gambling, petty thieving, womanizing and occasionally rustling through life. When he 'accidentally' steals $40,000 from the hapless Rayne gang, he and his clumsy, near-sighted horse Black Jack are forced to go on the run. He ends up in San Francisco, where he meets the handsome Englishman Spike 'Duke' Quaid, whore, con artist, bar tender and Saloon entertainer and their lives will never be the same.

Chapter 4/18 + Epilogue

Rating: NC17 Overall

Chapter 4/18 + Epilogue

Rating: NC17 Overall

'You can't hurry love'

Spike stalked along the street with his worldly belongings safely in his canvas traveling bag. In the distance, a ship sounded it's horn. He was furious, he'd had enough of San Francisco, he'd had enough of Lord Jim's, Rupert Giles and most of all that bitch Buffy, stealing his tricks. He needed to get away and seek his fortune elsewhere, where, he wasn't sure. He reached the stage depot and went inside, it was deserted except for the clerk; a man in his early thirties. Spike strode up to the counter, leaned casually on the top, dropped his bag on the floor and fished his money out of his pants pocket and slapped it down. "How far will that get me?" The clerk counted the money. "Fourteen dollars and fifty cents, shoot that won't even get you to the first comfort stop." Spike's face fell.

The clerk studied him. "Say aren't you that Duke fella sings and works bar over at Lord Jim's?"

"Yeah, that's me." Spike confirmed.

The clerk grinned. "I had the pleasure of your company for a couple of hours a while back." Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth and hooded his eyes. "Why sure, I remember you. I never forget a ," he paused. "face, you animal." In reality, Spike had no clue who he was.

The clerk's grin widened. Spike lent forward. "Care to relive the experience, make up the difference in the price of the ticket?" The clerk nodded enthusiastically. He obviously remembered Spike. "You got yourself some first class transportation Duke, you just wait there while I get my assistant."

Just as the clerk turned to go through to the back room, three stages pulled up one behind the other, he turned back to the counter as a tall, broad man walked in with dark eyes and hair and thick, black beard. He was severely dressed in a black suit, white shirt and wore a tall, stove pipe hat. Five women entered and stood behind him in a line all dressed the same in gray skirts, white blouses, black shawls and bonnets. Five small boys appeared in short gray trousers, black jackets and each wearing a round hat, they stood beside the women. A young blond man entered looking flustered and wearing a gray suit, white shirt and the same type of hat as the boys. He dived to the counter. "Mr. Liam Widdicome and party." He announced, Spike scanned the party with amusement. The clerk grinned "We've been expecting you."

The dark man stepped forward. "Mr. Waverly I presume." The clerk nodded. "Have all the arrangements been made?"

"Yes sir, you and your party are booked into The Bay Hotel, finest establishment in San Francisco."

"And was the advertisement placed in the newspaper as I instructed?"

"Yes sir, three days ago, interviews are at the hotel, ten thirty tomorrow morning."

"And travel arrangements?"

"As you instructed sir."

"Very good." The tall man smiled and reached into an inside pocket taking out a wad of bills. Spike's eyes widened as he peeled off a fifty and handed it to the clerk. "I believe in rewarding good service." The clerk nodded and grinned. "Thank you sir." Spike watched as the tall man tucked away the bills. The man turned. "Come wives, children." They started to file out, the blond man ushering them along. "You folks have a nice stay," called the clerk. "and if there's anything else I can do for you, you let me know."

Spike watched them go and then leaned on the counter. "What the Hell was that freak show?"

"That was the famous Liam Widdicome and his family, the Mormon tycoon."

"Those ghouls his wives?"

"Every one, it's part of his religion."

"And the brats?"

"His too."

"What's he doin' in San Francisco?"

"Returning to Salt Lake City, stopped here looking for a tutor for his boys, thought this was the place to find men of education, breeding and refinement, he and his wives are holding interviews at the Bay Hotel tomorrow at ten thirty."

"Who's the blond guy?"

"Mr. Wells, his assistant."

"Widdicome's rich?"


Spike looked thoughtful. "Those wives of his and that assistant looked like they'd been eating real good." The clerk nodded. "I'll just get George to take over an' we can continue where we left off."

Spike picked up his bag. "Forget it rabbit. Change of travel plans." He walked to the door. "Looks like I might be headed for Salt Lake City," he mumbled as he walked out.

Spike walked up the street lost in thought, he was sure he could con his way into the job, he was reasonably educated, and he could lay on the accent; the sticking point was the interview. 'Men of refinement', he didn't own a suit, in fact, he didn't own anything suitable for an interview. He passed the gent's outfitters and did a double take, walking back and staring in the window. The male manikin was dressed in a pale brown three piece suit, with a thin cream pinstripe and a dark, brown velvet collar. The shirt was off white and had a frilled front. The notice read 'Latest fashion from London England, as worn by a Duke. $65'. It was just what Spike needed, and he'd look stunning, but he didn't have $65! He needed to turn some tricks and fast, trouble was he'd walked out of Jim's and there was no way Rupert would just let him tout for business. He sighed, time to eat humble pie.

Buffy had tried to take Spike's place and was being booed off stage. Rupert was frantic and more than relieved when Spike returned. Quickly Spike got ready and was stood in the wings waiting to take over. He scanned the tables for a likely trick. The sailor was gone, the Sea Captain as well but the young cowboy looked promising, he was handsome too. As Spike watched a bottle of Champagne was delivered to his table and the cowboy pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and peeled off a couple with a grin. Spike had found his mark.

Spike waited for an appropriate point in the music, strode on stage and squeezed in front of Buffy, the crowd cheered. Spike joined in the dancing, raised his arms and jerked his hips and smiled straight at Xander. The young cowboy smiled and lent forward, yeah this blond was so much better. Spike continued to dance and smile at Xander. He turned his back and swayed his hips. "Well look who's back," Buffy snarled. "his high and mighty."

"Not for long, dog breath and you make one move towards my trick this time, and you'll be singing Stars and Stripes out of your ass, because your head will be up there." He paused. "And the tragedy? No-one will know the bloody difference!" Spike threatened. Before she could reply Spike spun around and started to sing.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh you can grope my cantaloupe,
and I won't 'ardly mind"

He strolled down the steps and toward Xander's table. Xander moved the Champagne and glass aside and Spike vaulted onto the table.

"also stroke me artichoke
or anything you find
act like fellas
with me melons
and we will still be chums"

Spike turned and swayed his ass at Xander, Xander leaned back in his chair and grinned broadly.

try some of those
try some of these
I've got so much for you to squeeze"

Spike looked over his shoulder and winked.

"but I beg you please
on bended knees
please. don't. squeeze. me. plums."

Spike vaulted down as the crowd clapped and sat on Xander's knee, his arms around his neck. "In town long, cowboy?"

"Couple of days, me and my horse are headed for Australia on the next available boat." Xander put his arms around the blond's waist. "Glad you came back."

"Spike hooded his eyes. "Me too. Name's Spike, most folks call me Duke."


"The accent."

"What is that, French?"

Spike blinked. "No dummy, English."

"Xander laughed. "Just teasin'. Name's Xander Harris, sometimes called," he searched for a good name. "The Dirtwater Fox."

Spike raised a eyebrow. "Intrestin' name, how you get it?"

"Long story."

"We've got all night," Spike grinned.

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