bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,


Title: Mouse
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: Adult for language and very brief M/M sexual content.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing including the characters and
products named in this fanciful story.

Summary: AU. Xander is living in his own apartment when he
is invaded by a mouse. Although he often faces demons and vampires,
Xander has a particular fear of rodents and therefore enlists Spike to rid
him of the varment. Spike, who has his own aganda, accepts the challenge.

Authors note: This is a very short story that the Bee is offering up to
her loyal and wonderful readers as a Christmas gift of thanks.

Boo Boo Betaed by the patient and gracious Silk_labyrinth

Waves and winks to the wonderful Petxnd for the banner and a hug for her friendship.

Spike leaned against the doorframe. He dropped his half-smoked cigarette on
the floor and crushed it with the toe of his boot as Xander continued to wring
his hands and shift from one foot to another. Finally, Spike crossed his arms
and glared at the frantic antics.

"So, I take it you ain't never birthed no babies?"

The Gone with the Wind reference breezed high over Xander's head and
even if he had understood it, he would have been less than interested. Time
was running and every minute that varmint was permitted free rein in his
apartment was pure agony. When it didn't appear that Spike was grasping the
seriousness of the situation, Xander grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed
the small, compact, muscular body against the closed door.

Spike was shocked but his assailant was even more so.

Xander's eyes got big as his brain registered his own actions. The feel of
the tight, hard muscles as they rolled beneath his hands shot feather-tipped
darts through his body to hit the bullseye in his pants.

His percentage shot to 61.4% gay.


The mental scolding got him back on track as he chose to ignore the less than
subtle sniffing and smirking of the killer he had hired.

"Look, Spike, while you are dicking around out here, that fucking beast is in
there having his way with every Moonpie and Twinkie in the house. Do you
not get the urgency of this?"

Spike continued to suck his teeth, leer and generally enjoy the feel of the boy's
hot fingers as they flexed and massaged his shoulders like a cat in the hot sun.
He doubted Xander was even aware that he was doing it.

"Dicking? Methinks that was a very Freudian term, Pet."

Xander threw his arms straight out to the sides. Terror, exasperation and a small
tidbit of arousal had him ready to scream as his heart pounded, his eyes bugged
and his pecker tried to peek out the leg of his tighty whiteys to get a better look
at the vampire. Finally, Xander could stand it no longer and he pounced.

When Spike saw the boy lurch towards him, he too became alarmed and
concerned. He was beginning to wonder about the lad's sanity and he knew
that with the damn chip, he would be unable to defend himself if the human
snapped and attacked. Just as he was about to raise his hands to signal that
he conceded and would indeed take care of the evil mouse, Xander grabbed
him by the lapels of the sacred leather duster and spun him around.

Xander then jerked his door open and shoved the vampire as hard as he could.

"IN! Get in there and kill the little fucker! Now! Do it now!"

Each word and command was punctuated by Xander pushing the startled and
uncooperative vampire forward. Unfortunately, it did not immediately register
that all he was accomplishing was to repeatedly smack Spike's face into the
invisible barrier that was the Power's cosmic joke.

"OW! OW! OW, Goddamn it, Xander! Invite! I need a fucking invite!"

Without releasing the iron grip on the back of Spike's collar, Xander shouted.

"I invite your scrumptious ass inside!"

Then with one last push and the word 'scrumptious?' on his lips, Spike was
propelled forward where he flailed and tumbled arse over tin cups onto the
floor, only to have the door slammed behind him.

"Bloody hell!"

With as much dignity as he could muster, he sprang to his feet and gingerly felt
his nose to see if there had been any damage done by its repeated battering
against the invisible wall. When he was satisfied that nothing was broken or bent,
he again grinned. The casual comments that he had tossed out to irritate the boy
had paid back unexpected profits. No, his nose was not bent but just maybe
the slayer's lapdog was. Interesting.

Spike stood inside the small apartment living room and looked all around.
It certainly was much nicer digs than when he was forced to live with the boy
in that dank basement that always smelled like feet and arseholes. This was....
cozy. Yep, that was the word. Cozy.

Spike took one step on into the room as a desperate, muffled voice called
from the hallway.

"Can you see him? Is he there? KILL HIM, SPIKE! KILL THE BASTARD!!"

Spike just rolled his eyes as he sauntered over to the plaid sofa and plopped down.
He squiggled his butt to confirm its comfort level and he tossed an arm over the
back. It was definitely the type of couch that one could sleep on were an
impromptu invite to be issued.

He then spotted a small bookcase to the side of the television that contained
a tall stack of DVDs. Checking titles only seemed logical if he were to be
asked to endure hour after hour of what he hoped would not be Hopalong
Cassidy westerns that Yanks seemed so fond of or worse, that Star Trek
shite the boy was always spouting.

Spike shoved off the sofa and squatted down to peruse the titles. When he did,
a small brown ball of fur shot out from behind the bookcase and disappeared
into what Spike assumed was the kitchen. He shrugged with disinterest and
ran his fingertip across the plastic cases.

He was impressed. The range and variety spanned all tastes from sports to
science fiction to horror and even some chick flicks that probably belonged
to the witch and slayer. Spike tossed them all on the floor. Something
was missing. A human male living on his own, recently dumped by his demon
girlfriend should have porn. Lots of porn. Stacks and stacks of.........

"Spike? How's it goin' in there, buddy?"

Spike shouted back a time-buying reply.

"Got 'im on the run, mate. Just a few minutes more."

Rising to his feet, Spike glanced back down at the pile of movies he had scattered
around the floor. He would have picked them up but he had already lost interest.

Idly scratching behind his ear, Spike considered what to do next. He could simply
kill the mouse and go home or he could entertain himself with a bit of a snoop.
See what sort of secrets the whelp had going on for himself. Spike tapped his
fingertip on his chin as he considered the old adage, 'curiosity killed the cat.'

Finally, with a shrug and a grin, he figured, what did he have to lose? He was
already dead. So he headed to the kitchen.

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