Title: An Unconventional Celebration
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: It's Xander's 29th birthday...
Dedication: To everyone at bloodclaim. Thank you for helping make the community such an amazing success!
"Uh, Xander? What's with all the 'one' stuff? Are you re-celebrating a birthday you weren't old enough to remember?"
Spike looked around the apartment, taking in the cake with one single candle on it, the banner over the sofa that read 'One Year... Today' and had obviously had the word 'Old' removed with something extremely blunt, finally ending up looking quizzically at the huge number one pinned to Xander's chest.
"Did I miss something?"
Xander grinned and bounced across the room to lift the suddenly worried vampire up and spin him madly around. Okay, so obviously sugar had already been consumed, in terrifying amounts.
"No! But it's my twenty ninth birthday, yeah? So you know what that means!"
Still wobbling slightly from his unexpected ride, Spike shook his head, then latched on to the broad shoulders in front of him to prevent an embarrassing topple.
"You made your coffee in the sugar bowl again?"
A wet, sloppy kiss prevented further snark, and Spike lost track of the conversation, and everyone's hands, as the kiss grew and morphed into a full-body grope. Eventually he had to let the man in his arms come up for air, so he pulled back slowly, nibbling along that strong, tanned jaw to a twice-pierced earlobe. Xander squeaked.
"Spike! This is my one-year-left-iversary! You promised, remember? When I hit thirty you make with the biting and turning, whether or not I'm still getting asked for I.D. when I buy your booze. I think we've pretty much established that regular sharing of blood and other bodily fluids with a vampire slows the aging process of your average human construction worker down. A lot. I'm not waiting until I'm forty, Spike, no matter what you say. Chances are I'd still be getting carded. I always did look younger than I really was, anyway. Hooking up with you has practically turned me into Peter Pan."
Spike gave an ominous warning growl that Xander cheerfully ignored in favour of starting to remove his lover's shirt.
"You make one crack about me being Tinkerbell, Pet, and you wont be able to sit down for a week, got it?"
Fingers callused by hard manual labour danced up and down Spike's ribs, trying to make him squirm and lose the Big Bad attitude.
"'K. I always thought of you more as the Wendy type anyway. Ow!" Xander rubbed his stinging left ass cheek and pouted. "What was that for?"
"What was...? You called me a girl, you git!"
"Well, it's not like there's much of a choice, Spike. A girl, a fairy, or one of the lost boys who never... Yeah, okay. So you're a lost boy. Hey, does that mean I get to be the boss of you?" Xander backed away, trying to keep the sofa between him and the wicked look on his vampire's face.
"Ooh, I know! You can be Captain Hook. I bet you'd look lovely in a long, dark, curly wig! Oof!"
Cushions went flying as Spike tackled Xander, knocking him over the arm of the sofa so that he was hanging half on and half off the much-abused piece of furniture.
"Happy one-year-left-iversary, luv."