Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named and
makes no money off anything. Sad state of affairs.
Warnings: Bad language, strong sexual content between M/M.
Second warning: Although I did do a lot of research, this story is not intended to
be an exact historical account so please don't scream and pounce on a detail or
two that may not be entirely accurate.
Credit: The snippets at the tops of the pages are from a web site entitled "Titanic,
A Time Line of Events". Earl Chapman on the Titanic Discussion List originally
published this chronology of events. Chapman modified it slightly in 1997. The
1997 version formed the basis of this timeline.
Summary: AU. It is the spring of 1912 and Xander Harris, who has been living
with relatives in Ireland, is heading home. As a gift of love, he was booked
passage on the maiden voyage of the Titanic with the promise that it will be the
adventure of a lifetime.
Author's note: This story is NOT a retelling of any of the Titanic movies.
It is the tale of one man and one vampire forgotten by history and the destiny they
both find on this doomed crossing.
Spelling checked by the gracious Silk_Labyrinth
As always, thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banners and the valued friendship.
Xander felt as though his entire body was frozen to the core. His skin burned
from the sheen of frosty sweat that covered it, his eyes stung and watered and
his toes and fingers were beginning to tingle ominously. His lips and face
were so cold that he knew any attempt to speak would come out sounding like
he had a mouthful of marbles.
Still, the huge grin that was plastered on his lips never waivered as the two men
dashed across the deck to the doorway that led to the inner corridor and the
second class cabins.
As soon as they stepped out of the night air and blasting wind, Xander stopped.
He bent at the waist with his hands on his knees and he gasped to catch his breath
as he laughed with exhilaration.
"Boy, you must really be in great shape! You aren't even winded. Goddamn it's
cold out there! Shit! I think the fucking blood in my veins is frozen solid. I'll bet
if you cut me, little chunks of red ice would drop out."
Spike moaned silently at the thought and briefly considered testing the young
man's theory before checking himself. He laughed casually and slapped the
boy on the back as he waved the bottle of stolen whisky in the air.
"Come on. Let's get to your cabin. A couple of swallows of this will thaw you
Xander stood up straight and nodded. He sucked in a lungful of warm air and
blew it out as his heartrate slowed and his body began to thaw. Leading the way,
the men quickly came to a small doorway marked #269 and Xander inserted
"Come on in. It's small, but if you don't need to turn around, we should be fine."
Spike laughed at the silly joke and felt the slight cosmic tingle in his spine as
the boy's invitation was casually given. With a relaxed smile on his lips and
the body language of ownership in his walk, Spike entered the cabin and
closed the door behind him.
"Why, this is lovely, Pet. Cozy."
Xander blushed and shivered at the easily tossed nick name, then checked
himself as he realized it was probably just one of those strange words that
English people use. The Irish did that too and it had taken some getting used
to. Xander thought he could get used to this man calling him 'Pet' very quickly.
"Is your cabin near here? Is it as cramped as this?"
Spike stripped off his long woolen overcoat and he tossed it on the bottom
of the bed then he sat down beside it as he appeared to look around and assess
"No, I'm staying quite a ways from here and this is much nicer. Your passage
must have cost a pretty penny. It's just lovely to have the privacy."
Xander scowled. From Spike's description Xander concluded that his new
friend must be staying in the cheap seats. The second class cabins that
were bigger, but housed four or more men in bunk beds. Xander didn't like
the thought of that. He didn't like that at all.
"What kind of a cabin do you have? Are you sharing? Where is it?"
Spike popped the cork out of the bottle and took a big swallow then held
it out for Xander. Xander paused. He really wasn't much of a hard drinker.
Yeah, he like a beer or three, hell he lived in Ireland, it would have been
unpatriotic if he hadn't gotten pissed a night or two, but he wasn't much
for hard liquor.
Besides that, he was already half buzzed from the alcohol earlier AND
floating on a cloud of sexual tension, he feared the whisky might just loosen
his lips and lower his inhibitions.
Spike watched his boy intently, almost squealing with delight as he read
the hesitation and fears in him. Oh, this one was going to be delicious. In
more ways than one. He again waggled the bottle in Xander's face and lifted
one scarred eyebrow in question. Finally, Xander shrugged his shoulders
and clutched the bottle by the neck. He then lifted it to his lips and swallowed.
Instantly, the sharp burn of the whisky tore at his throat and caused him
to gasp. Xander coughed and sputtered when it landed in his stomach
and he feared, for a minute, that it might not stay there.
But it did, and within seconds, a wave of languid warmth flushed through
him, bathing him in the most relaxed, pleasant feeling he had had in a long
time. He took another fast gulp and handed it back. Spike accepted the bottle
with a chuckle and a grin and he drank a third of it straight down.
"So, Pet, you're not much of a dancer, are you?"
Xander blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the fog that
had everything coated in marshmallow cream. Had they been talking about
dancing? Had he dozed off?
"Wha? Dancing? Um, no. I don't dance. But then I suppose you saw that."
Spike set the bottle down on the floor by the small bed and he slowly rose
to his feet. A move so graceful and predatory it reminded Xander of a
panther he had seen once in a zoo in New York. He then stepped to the
round porthole and he flipped the latch and pushed it slightly open.
The night air floated in, but not unpleasantly as it combated with the steam
heat in the cabin to create a wonderful atmosphere. Piggybacking on the
cold fog was just a faint sound of the far off orchestra as it continued to play
and entertain the late night party goers. Spike stood there, with his face
at the open window and he closed his eyes, taking it all in.
Xander watched. The man in his cabin was absolutely gorgeous. Small
but solid. Firm with strong arms to wrap tightly around a young eager
boy unschooled in the ways of the world. Muscular thighs that could
'NO! Stop it!' Xander mentally reprimanded himself but knew it was too
late. His damn erection was back and this time probably would not leave
till he took it firmly in hand. Xander's eyes wandered to the bottle and he
suddenly wanted another drink. He swayed on shaky legs and as he tried
to reach for it he tripped. In a flash, Spike turned and caught him.
"Whoa, Pet. Steady as she goes."
Spike continued to hold Xander, presumably to steady him. If the extended
embrace seemed odd to Xander, he didn't show it. Gradually, Spike began
to sway, much in the same way Yvette had done earlier.
"Dance with me, Pet. Let me show you how."
Surprisingly, Xander found no objection to the strange request. In fact, at this
point in time and place, dancing with Spike seemed the only logical thing to do.
Xander stood, his arms hanging limply at his sides and a goofy grin on his
face and he nodded.
"You gotta tell me what to do."
Spike shivered at the possibilities. He could picture himself instructing this boy
in all manner of things to do to please him. But that was for later. A treat like
Xander must be savored. It shouldn't be rushed.
"Tell you what, Love. Since you are bigger, you take the lead. Place your
left hand in the center of my back and hold my hand in your right. None
of this nancy hand on arm shite.'
Xander did as he was told and both men quietly moaned. Spike at the feel of
the incredible heat that soaked through him from the large hand that pressed
against his spine and Xander at the amazing contrast of holding Yvette's
spindly, mushy body vs Spike's perfect one.
Spike's other arm snaked up and around Xander's neck and the two men
entwined their fingers. For Xander it was almost too much. The cold air and
the hot room. The alcohol haze and the distant strains of music that
bypassed his ears and coasted into his brain. The aching, rock hard cock
in his pants and the overly dressed man in his arms.
Xander closed his eyes and feared it all may disappear till the soft, low
"You all right, Love?"
"Good. So, let's dance."
And they did. And this time there were no smashed toes or tripped left feet.
This time the two bodies moved in perfect synchronicity to the music and to
Finally, Xander knew exactly what he was doing. He had found his rhythm.