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.)
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.
'You can't hurry love'
(Not part of the movie) A Short Glimpse into Their Lives Post Salt Lake City.
Bouncing Boulder was a pretty, bustling, little town; happily bypassed by the railroad it still depended on four legged transport and the bi weekly stage was a welcome sight. The town sat squarely between two large cattle ranches and numerous small farms and homesteads that co-existed happily together. It was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone else, Weddings, Births, Funerals and barn raising's were town events and the people had a reputation for welcoming strangers and misfits and taking them into their midst and hearts. What they'd done in the past stayed there and it was the present that counted.
On the one road into (and out of) town there was a rickety signpost that declared the inhabitants to be 310, the nought had been crossed out and replaced by a 2.
In the sheriff's office the sheriff crossed to the coffee pot on the stove and tin cup in hand, poured in the hot liquid and then carried the cup through to the cells.
"Here you go Sam, black coffee to help you sober up." The middle aged drunk sat up on the narrow bed and smiled, blinking with bleary eyes at the young man. The sheriff opened the unlocked cell and handed over the tin cup. "Watch it now, it's hot," he warned.
"Thank you kindly sheriff." The sheriff smiled and nodded. "You're welcome to sleep it off here 'till Mable comes looking for you." The drunk groaned and the sheriff chuckled as he closed the cell door to and wandered back into his office. The office door opened and a young man staggered in with a heavy pile of law books and deposited them noisily on the sheriff's desk. "Evening sheriff," the deputy smiled, the sheriff nodded. "Evening Wes, got some studying to do I see."
"Sure have." Wes grinned and the sheriff smiled sympathetically. "Coffee's hot on the stove." Wes grabbed a tin cup and poured himself a cup of the hot, thick, black liquid. "Christ Xander how do you drink this stuff?" Xander chuckled. "Habit, Spike ain't never learned to make it any other way." Wes grinned. Xander reached for his hat and rifle. "Guess I'll make a final round and go on home." Wes nodded. "Anything I should know?"
"Sam's in the cells sleeping it off, I said he can stay the night and Mable should be along to collect him in the morning." Wes nodded. "He won't be any trouble." Xander shouldered his rifle and made his way to the door. "Have a good night Wes." Wes nodded and settled himself into the chair and turned up the oil lamp. "You too sheriff, give my best to Spike." Xander opened the door and stepped through with a smile and closed it behind him. He turned and began to walk up the street.
The moon glinted off his sheriff's badge as he checked the doors of the businesses and exchanged 'good night' with the townsfolk still making their way home. He checked the alleys for courting couples and jovially sent them on their way and at the end of the street he turned left and headed for the Livery Stable to bid a good night to Jack and his family.
The Livery was cozy and warm. Jack had a plush stall to himself and Cleopatra occupied the stall next door. The black horse stuck his head over the half door and Xander petted his nose. "How ya doin' buddy?" Jack snorted softly and nuzzled his hand. Cleopatra's blond head appeared and Xander petted her ears. He leaned over and looked in the straw, the black foal was laid asleep, Xander smiled. "Hi Ace," Xander whispered, it flicked it's ears while Jack and Cleopatra touched noses.
Xander closed the door quietly behind him and crossed over and began making his way up the other side of the street.
The Duke and Dirtwater Fox Saloon and Music Hall was the only establishment of it's kind in Bouncing Boulder and did thriving business, due in no small part to the management, talent and charismatic nature of one of the owners. If anyone wondered about the strange name, none were bothered enough to ask. It gave enjoyment to many and employment to several.
Spike stood at the swing doors bidding goodnight to the last of his customers and then he looked up the street. In the distance he saw the familiar figure of Xander making his final round of the day. He ducked inside and pulled one of the inner doors shut and bolted it. Toby was circulating the tables collecting the dirty glasses, Spike nodded. "Leave that mate and do it in the morning, yeah."
"Are you sure Mr Quaid?" The young man was already taking off his barman's apron. "Sure thing," Spike confirmed. "you cut along home to your mum and I'll see you in the morning." Toby hung his apron on the hook and made for the door. "Night Mr Quaid." Spike nodded "Night son, give my best to your mum." Spike watched him go and then quickly took off his blue waistcoat and white shirt and tossed them behind the bar as he struck a seductive pose leaning against it.
Xander came through the swing doors and then turned closing the remaining inner door and bolting it. "Was that Toby I saw haring up the street?"
"Sure was." Xander turned "Gah!" Spike was looking at him with hooded eyes and tongue curled behind his teeth, Xander's cock jerked as he crossed to the bar and lay down his rifle. "And what do you think you're doing young man?" Spike grinned and moved closer. "I heard," he purred. " the sheriff of this town is a mighty handsome bloke." Xander grinned. "That's as maybe, but I heard he's spoken for." Xander reached out and ran the flat of his hand over Spike's chest, Spike leaned into the touch. "That so?" Then I guess I'll have to be real persuasive."
"Yeah, shacked up with the Saloon Keeper," Xander paused. "blond, short, Limey guy." Spike knocked off his hat. "I am not short!" Xander chuckled, Spike grabbed the handcuffs from Xander's belt and dodged away, shaking them at him, Xander set off after him, Spike weaved through the tables. "I get to play with the handcuffs tonight." Xander grinned as Spike began to race up the stairs. "Ok," Xander raced after him. "but this time don't lose the key 'cos last time was plain embarrassing." Laughing they tumbled together into their bedroom.
To those who have read and/or commented on this fic, thank you and I hoped you enjoyed it.
There will be a change to my usual posting in December. 'Xander And The Beast' is my entry for Fall for S/X. It is eight chapters and will be posted over TWO days, 1st and 2nd December. 4 Chapters throughout the 1st and the remainder throughout the 2nd. Although plotted on the lines of the Fairytale 'Beauty And The Beast' it has nothing in common with any movie and not much with the Fairytale. It is original writing.