bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

The Crossing

Title: The Crossing
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: NC17
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.

It was morning. The sun had crested and the sky was clear and blue. A
heavy frosting of ice covered the round glass window in Xander's room
and although the interior temperature was warm, he shivered as he stood,
still naked by his bed.

Xander was almost too twittery to sleep. He went to the washpan and
poured some water from the pitcher into the bowl. Like all of the table
service in the dining room, the bowl and pitcher were imprinted with the blue
and white insignia of the Titanic. An elegant touch that impressed him greatly
and Xander wondered if he had the nerve to swipe something small to keep
as a souvenir.

He used his last fresh towel, dipped in the tepid water and cleaned himself off as
he was in no position to stroll down the hallway for a real bath.

When he washed his privates, he moaned and twitched at the memory of
the incredible things he had done and the handsome, wonderful man he had
done them with. He never would have imagined the turn his life would take.

He wondered what he would do once they docked in New York. His family,
and he seldom thought of them in that term any more, expected him to return
to the small town south of the main city of New York. He would secure a
position of employment, marry and live the life of an everyman.

They would have no reason to expect anything else. He was certain that
Paddy would not have confided the real reason for his impromptu return, and
he doubted they would care enough to ask.

Suddenly he stopped washing and his considerations took a different turn.
Maybe he would not go with them. He was a grown man now. A man of infinite
thought and design for his life. A man who wanted to find his own way to live and
someone, some man, to live with. He didn't take that final step of naming that man.
Even to himself, this was too presumptuous.

When he was as clean as he could get without making the trip down the carpeted
walkway to the communal bath, Xander yawned and stretched. He really was
exhausted and he giggled when he remembered why. Before climbing into bed, he
retrieved the long black coat and he spread it out where Spike had lain.

Xander extended the scratchy, woolen arms and he sighed as he curled up on
his bed with the only souvenir that really mattered. He tucked one coat arm
underneath him and one folded over him. When he was as surrounded by the
embracing smell of cigar smoke, whisky and coal dust as he could get, Xander
fell asleep.

For the next eight hours, Xander tossed and turned. The dreams had started
out pleasantly enough with he and Spike holding hands, walking the deck,
conversing with the other canoodling couples and dancing. Always dancing.
Swept up in each others arms and swaying, dipping and gliding smoothly across
the floor to the melodic strains of horns and strings.

But the dreams soon morphed. The wind on deck had turned cold and biting
and Xander wanted to go in where it was warm so they could snuggle.
He stood at the railing and looked out over the vast, seemingly endless ocean
and a feeling of terror gripped him. When he turned to seek reassurance, Spike
was gone. His black wool coat lay in a heap at Xander's feet but the deck
was now empty. The Titanic looked like a ghost town with Xander as its
last lone inhabitant.

When he awoke, it was with a start and he looked frantically around. The coat
was a wrinkled mess at his side and the blanket was crumpled on the floor
but Xander was relieved. It was a dream. A stupid dream that meant nothing.
He did not subscribe to the old wives' tales of dreams being prophetic. Except,
of course, when he dreamed of searching for an outhouse then waking to find he
had to piss like a Russian racehorse.

Xander sat up in bed. He smiled and stretched. From the looks of the sky
it was probably late afternoon and he had shamefully slept away the day.
The Titanic was indeed a den of iniquity! Xander laughed at the thought as
he scooped up the coat and clutched it to his naked body, raking the rough
wool over his chest and between his thighs.

"Good morning, Spike's coat. Did you sleep well?"

Then his smile slipped and he tipped his head in an effort to assist his foggy
memory. Spike said he would come for him. Did he say when? Was he to
wait here? Would they dine together? The last question was of great importance
to Xander considering his stomach was growling loudly. He had no breakfast nor
lunch and was not accustomed to missing a meal. Emma would not hear of it.

Xander wished he knew where Spike's cabin was. It now struck him as odd
that he had no clue as to which hallway it was in or even the names of any of the
lecherous, coveting men who slept in the room with him. It was very disquieting.

Xander resolved to rectify the situation this evening. He would insist that Spike
take him to the evil hellhole so that Xander could personally assess the threat
to Spike's safety and virtue. If it was deemed anything less than innocuous,
Spike would be moved in with him posthaste.

With all that settled in his mind, Xander pulled on his funky clothes from the night
before and with fresh clothes in hand, he headed for the bath. Luckily, at this
time of day, it was free and he took his time. He peed, he soaked in a luxurious
long relaxing bath with the soap that the ship provided, and he washed out
his dirty clothes to take back and hang in his room.

With all that completed, he sat on the end of his bed to wait and before long he
began talking to himself.

"Soooo, Xander Harris on the Titanic. Who'd a thunk it. Nice room, fancy
parties, big big ship and very sexy men. Yep, nice ship. Everything a body
needs. Good food. GREAT food. Lot's of great food. Damn. I'm hungry
as fuck. Where the fuck is he? Oh, maybe he is expecting me in the dining hall.
Well, shit. I've been sitting here and poor Spike is waiting in the dining hall. Where
all the food is. Damn."

Xander grabbed his shoes and his suit coat and rushed out the door. He barreled
down the hallway and out onto the deck where he bundled against the stabbing
cold wind and he darted into the vast space and clattering noise of the dining hall.
It was already packed with chattering pleasant conversation and laughter and
Xander, too, had to smile at the camaraderie and the warm spicy smells.

He scanned the room but didn't see the blond and knew with the number of
diners sitting and moving from table to table to visit, there was no way he could
find one, lone, handsome man.

"ALEXANDER!! Mon Cher! Come."

Xander groaned and rolled his eyes as the small, delicate arm looped through his and
he was dragged to his place at the table. If he hadn't been so hungry he would have
considered an escape. Something daring and adventurous. Something along the
lines of a jailbreak like Billy the Kid would have executed in the dime novels
he read as a child. But his stomach bid him stay so he blocked out the prater
and he followed meekly.

"They are just starting the service. The soup is tomato bisque and it looks
wonderful. I have looked for you on deck. Silly man, you have slept the day
away. Last night must have exhausted you. It was incredible. I shall remember
it all my life Alexander."

Xander frowned and looked at her blushing face wondering what the hell she
was going on about. When they reached the table, he pulled out her chair as he was
taught a gentleman always does, missing the smug smirk she gave her sister, and
he sat down to eat.

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