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 grumbled and stomped back through the apartment and into the
kitchen, resenting the interruption and the unfounded threat to his sack
of nuts. He shook his head. The boy was clearly bonkers. The constant
head battering during their nightly patrols had obviously taken a greater
toll than any of them had realized.
It was a good thing he was considering moving in. The boy apparently
needed adult supervision. Besides, the boy fascinated him. The way he
jumped in and fought alongside the slayer despite having no chance of winning.
That combined with the fact that it was winter in California, which meant
the rainy season and a flooded crypt. It all added up to Spike having a
change of address.
With a huff of disgust, he looked around at the mess of scattered canned
goods and Tupperware he had dumped from the bottom cupboards.
A man hates to be stopped in the middle of a job. Lucky for the boy,
Spike was methodical and could pick up where he left off.
Immediately, Spike began again tossing items from the shelves as he mentally
calculated random facts, such as: Xander ate far too much shite, he had no
whiskey or hard liquor on hand. And there was a strange sprinkling of little
black spots on the shelf with his crackers. Odd.
Finally, when he decided that there was nothing of interest to be learned in the
kitchen, Spike booted aside a plastic Mickey Mouse cereal bowl, tucked a
box of Cheerios under his arm and he headed for the bedroom.
As he walked from the kitchen, he picked up a coffee mug off the sink. Then,
as he strolled through the living room, he gave it a wild fling causing it to shatter
into a million pieces against the front door as he shouted.
"AAHHH! Don't come in! The little fucker's fighting back!"
He then shoved a handful of Cheerios in his mouth and sauntered into the
boy's private sanctum, the area at the back of the apartment that held his
bedroom and bath. If Spike was to move in, he would be spending a lot of
time here and he had certain needs. Blackout curtains, natch, but it went far
deeper than that. It required a certain comfort level that the boy would have
to achieve in order to win the vampire's five-star approval rating.
When he stepped in, Spike was pleasantly surprised. The drapes were
lined and heavy almost as though Xander were hoping that if he were a really
good boy, Santa would bring him a vampire for Christmas.
"Well, ho fucking ho, Xander."
Spike decided to save the in-depth search of the bedroom for last and give
the bathroom a quick sweep. While a vamp didn't shit, he sure did shower,
and water temp and pressure were a requisite. Spike shoved another handful
of Cheerios in his mouth and started his mental checklist.
The towels were not fluffy enough. The tile floor was cold and who the fuck
picked out that pussy pink color for the walls? And a big no no on the generic
brand shampoo! Spike cringed when he thought about what that cheap crap
would do to his bleached locks. The bathroom did NOT pass muster.
Spike, however, was a fair-minded vampire and he wanted to give the boy the
benefit of the doubt. The quality of the shower could still save this disaster of a
bathroom if the water was hot enough and the water pressure carried sufficient
force to tingle on his skin after a long night of demon fighting or a quick round
of fist fucking.
Still munching his dry cereal, Spike jerked back the Sponge Bob shower curtain
which, so far, was the one thing in this room that he highly approved of, and
he wrinkled his nose at the ring of soap scum in the tub. The minute he moved
in, he would have the boy on his hands and knees scrubbing the hell out of that
porcelain nightmare. Spike's breath unexpectedly hitched at the mental image
and a Cheerio dropped from his mouth.
The boy, Xander, on his hands and knees. Naked. Wiggling as he swiped scum
in preparation for Spike's bubble bath. Spike blinked. He puckered up and
blew out a low, slow whistle, shooting ringlets of squished, chewed cereal out
to land with a splat against Bob's squarepants.
Recovering quickly, Spike knew he was on a short timetable and still had the
water situation to verify and then a check of the bedroom before he gave the
all clear. Clutching the cereal box in his left arm, Spike reached in with his right
and flipped the handle.
Immediately, a tidal wave of impressively hot water shot directly into the vampire's
face with an unexpected force and volume that slapped the Cheerios from his hand
and nearly knocked him backwards. He immediately shifted to his fang face and
attacked the attempt to waterboard him. He fought back the barrage as he spit and
sputtered, launching himself into the contamination of the scummy tub till he was able
to reach the evil chrome knob and twist it off.
Spike slumped back against the shower wall as he recovered from the sudden attack.
Gradually, his face slid back to human and other concerns replaced the urgency
to build an ark and collect animals.
He was soaked! Not just damp. Far beyond wet. Spike was dripping from the
top of his head to the soles of his boots. He was drenched.
"Son of a fucking bitch!"
Hating the feel of wet fabric clinging to his skin, Spike immediately did the only
thing he could. He stripped naked. Using the tips of his fingers and wrinkling
his nose, he 'eewed' and 'yucked' till everything had been peeled off and tossed
with a splat into a heap in the offensive tub, and he stepped away.
Spike grabbed one of the scratchy towels and stood on the rugless floor as he dried
himself off, cursing and muttering threats. When he was done, a condition decided
by the fact that he had run out of towels and they all lay scattered about on the
wet bathroom floor, Spike put his fists on his hips and he huffed in disgust.
"Well, isn't this just a fine kettle of fish?"
Spike looked around at the bathroom and wondered if the boy's latest job would
afford him a cleaning lady once or twice a week. He then turned his back on the
wet, musty smell and marched, naked, into the bedroom where he scratched his
nuts and glanced around, mumbling.
"Well, whenever this situation arises in those slash stories on the web, and
surprisingly this apparently happens a lot, the first thing those silly writer bints do
is put me in the boy's sweats. So, where would he keep 'em? AHA!"
Spike headed for the closet. He threw open the folding doors and he began
flipping through the things hanging on the rack. The selection nearly caused him
to gag. Tacky Hawaiian shirts, uniforms from every fast food joint in Sunnydale
and, oh, one nice black suit. OK, the suit stays, everything else goes. Once he
got settled in, they would be having their own version of 'What Not to Wear.'
Spoiler for the first episode? It was NOT any of this.
Spike then dropped to his knees and stuck his head into the far back corner of the
closet. Within seconds he let out a whoop of delight and popped back out.
In his hand he held a black, felt, perfectly shaped cowboy hat. Spike had always
wanted one of these. He shook it to knock the brown fur ball out of it and he
reverently placed it on his head. It fit like a glove.
Happily, Spike sat back on his heels and he ran his hands across the smooth
brim of the hat as his eyes slowly squinted and his lip curled in a snear.
"That's right, pardner. Six-Gun Spike here and them's my cattle you been a-rustlin'.
What's that you say? Them's fightin' words, mister. Meet me on Main Street at high
noon and kiss yer gal cause you ain't a-comin' home. POW! POW! POW!"
Spike blew across the tips of the fingers that he had used as guns and he slid them
back in his imaginary holster. Before his fantasy could go any further, something
else on the floor of the closet caught his eye and he reached in to pull it out.
He knew it! No healthy young man Xander's age did not possess any porn and from the
looks of this shoebox, the boy had an impressive selection. Spike giggled like a
schoolgirl as he perused the movie titles. Peter Cock'n Tail, The Hippies of Woodcock.
Great Trains of the Hershey Highway. 'Oh look, he has the X-rated, vampire version of
Titanic. Been meaning to see that one.'
Slowly, an evil grin spread across the vampire's lips. He was seeing a definite trend here.
Apparently the boy was ready to explore his adventurous side and, lucky for him,
Spike would be the perfect tour guide.