Saturation - Chapter 9
written by Jane Davitt & WesleysGirl
Spike slept better than
he had any night since he'd come back human;
one second he was closing his eyes, aware of his own breathing, and the
next he was waking up, light filtering in through the crack in the
window shade. He was too warm, his muscles heavy and stiff with sleep,
sweat beaded up on the back of his neck where he could feel Xander's
hot exhalations. His own arm was wrapped around Giles' waist, the man's
arse cradled in the curve of Spike's pelvis, the three of them neatly
spooned together with Spike in the middle.
He wasn't sure whether he should be comforted or disturbed.
Then Xander stirred behind him, the big hand resting on Spike's thigh
moving slightly, and Spike felt a wet tongue lick the spot just behind
The shiver he gave meant that the lick was followed by a soft chuckle
and then a kiss that was more of a nuzzle than anything else, with
Xander's mouth fitting perfectly into a hollow on Spike's shoulder.
Spike was still too drowsy to respond meaningfully -- and too tightly
sandwiched to even think about moving -- but he made an encouraging,
approving murmur and felt Xander's lips curve in a smile.
They weren't the only things waking up, either. Spike's cock was
stirring to life just from the memories of the night before and the
promise of more implicit in that warm kiss, and there was something
pressed against his backside that told him Xander was in a similar
Unthinkingly, his arm tightened around Giles, and then he relaxed and
let his hand drift down, fingers crooked so that he was dragging the
tips of his fingers, no more, across Giles' stomach.
Giles gave a small, protesting grumble that died away as Spike's light,
questing touch brushed over his cock, rousing it within moments.
With his eyes closed, Spike slid his fingers lower, running them over
Giles' balls, feeling the skin there tighten as Giles' erection grew.
Giles made another sound, softer this time, and pushed his arse back,
rubbing it against Spike's cock. Spike groaned and nipped gently at the
thin skin over Giles' shoulder blade.
Xander shifted behind him, pressing closer, hard cock sliding damply
between Spike's thighs, the head of it bumping Spike's balls and
driving a sudden, unexpectedly breathless sob from him. Xander's hand
settled on the bonier part of Spike's hip, steadying him, hot mouth
exploring Spike's neck.
The warmth of the bodies surrounding him and the soft exhalations that
greeted each slow, languid shift of skin on skin were almost enough to
lull Spike back to sleep, or allow him to pretend that this was a
dream. Almost. Even with his eyes closed, the arousal he felt was too
insistent not to be real, even muted as it was by his drowsiness.
Relaxing and refusing to think beyond the moment, or give any thought
at all to what had been decided the night before, Spike stroked his
fingers along Giles' shaft, barely touching it, teasingly light touches
that had Giles' hips pushing forward, mutely begging for more. With a
small space between them now, Spike was able to rub his cock gently
against the cleft of Giles' arse, the friction enough to have him
groaning softly against Giles' back.
He was discovering that one consequence of being in the middle was that
anything he did to Giles affected Xander as well; as Spike thrust up
slowly along Giles' warm skin, his thighs rubbed against Xander's cock,
trapped between them, drawing a moan from Xander.
Spike could feel the imprint of each of Xander's fingers on his hip,
Xander's rocking motions growing somehow more intense and needy even
though he wasn't moving any faster. Giles' cock was hard beneath
Spike's teasing fingertips, and suddenly Giles squirmed in Spike's
arms, turning around until their cocks fit side by side and kissing him
Reaching a hand over Spike's waist, Giles did something -- grabbed onto
Xander's ass, maybe -- that made Xander gasp in Spike's ear. "God,"
Xander whispered, his voice hoarse. "Spike..."
The slide of Xander's cock, slick between Spike's thighs and rubbing
his balls with each slow forward push, would have been enough to make
Spike beg if he'd been fully awake. Instead, he made a sound
suspiciously like a whimper and clung to Giles, accepting the lingering
kisses and occasional delve of Giles' tongue into his mouth. He
couldn't stay still, had to keep wriggling against Giles and back
Giles' kisses were becoming more urgent, although, like Spike and
Xander, he seemed content to remain in the half-drowsy state Spike was
in, with an arousal unaccompanied by impatience. Spike's cock was hard
and there was a pleasant ache of need sending tingles through his body,
but he didn't want to rush. This was perfect. He felt safe. Not a
feeling he was used to, not something he'd known he wanted, even, but
now that he had it -
With a reluctant sigh, Giles broke the kiss and Spike finally opened
his eyes, staring at Giles' face, so close that all he really saw were
Giles' eyes, half-closed, sleepy and gleaming at him.
Giles rolled Spike gently to his back and leaned over him to kiss
Xander, their lips meeting and their eyes sliding closed again. Spike
lay beneath them, enjoying the view as the pair of them were definitely
playing to their audience, pulling back so that Spike could see their
tongues licking and teasing each other, watch the open-mouthed,
increasingly fervent kisses...
Reaching out, Spike slid his hands down and wrapped his fingers around
Giles and Xander's cocks, smiling as they turned their heads to look at
him, their expressions an identical mixture of surprise and pleasure.
Xander bit down on his lip as Spike tightened the circle of his left
hand and slid it slowly along Xander's cock, repeating the action with
his right hand until he saw Giles' eyes close and his jaw tighten.
"Don't stop," Spike said, the words emerging in a murmur as if he'd
forgotten how to talk. "And I won't."
Xander's thigh settled over Spike's, then the two of them were kissing
again, open-mouthed, putting on a real show for Spike. The sound of
their slow, slick kisses made Spike harder as he stroked their cocks
with a firm grip, paying attention to each little gasp and twitch.
He felt Giles' hand on his inner thigh, sliding up, and couldn't be
bothered to stop him. He considered it for a minute, though. But he
wanted to be touched, wanted to feel Giles' fingers
wrap around him -- oh fuck yes, like that.
He managed to keep jerking them off for about three seconds, and then
Xander's hand came to cup at Spike's balls and Spike lost all semblance
of rhythm, pausing, his hands locked tight around their cocks as they
worked together to bring him close to spilling.
"Don't stop," Giles said, his lips a bare inch away from Xander's,
giving Spike a sidelong, wickedly-amused glance.
"Making it hard to concentrate," Spike said hoarsely as Giles rubbed
his thumb across the top of Spike's cock, slippery and exposed. "Oh,
fuck, do that again!"
"Perhaps you need a helping hand," Giles said, so solemnly that it took
Spike a moment to get that he was joking. Which made him wonder how
often Giles hadn't been serious and he'd thought he was... but like
this it was easy to pick up on the subtleties of expression and voice,
Giles kicked back the sheets that were still just about covering them,
although by now they were half-way down the bed, and stared down at the
tangle of hands. "Let go of me, please, Spike," he said. Regretfully,
and with one final pump of his hand, Spike released Giles' cock.
With a quirk of his lips, Giles moved Xander's hand away from Spike's
balls and brought it to his own cock, shuddering slightly as Xander's
hand closed enthusiastically around it. "God, Xander," he said.
"Sorry," Xander murmured.
"Don't be," Giles said, which was all it took to bring a grin to
Xander's face. Giles bent his head and kissed Spike again. "Is that
Spike's hand on Xander, Xander taking care of Giles, Giles seeing to
Spike... oh, yeah, that was just fine with him. He nodded and turned
his head for his first kiss of the morning from Xander, who made the
most of it, leaving Spike trying to catch his breath, tingles chasing
and racing over him.
Spike chuckled softly against Xander's lips.
"What?" Xander asked, nipping at Spike's ear.
"Nice way to wake up, is all." Spike's breath caught as Giles' talented
hand worked him expertly, the muscles in his calves and thighs
tightening. They were all slow, languid, the scent of male sweat and
arousal heavy in the air as they moved together. Xander's cock fit into
Spike's hand perfectly, large and hard and eager, a young man's cock.
Spike remembered how it had felt the night before, having that thick
shaft inside him, and he groaned, shuddering on the edge of release.
Giles murmured, "No, not yet." It was quiet, but the authority was
unquestionable. Giles' hand moved down to the base of Spike's cock and
"Not yet," Xander agreed, although his cock was wet-tipped and slippery
in Spike's grip. "God, just a... little bit longer."
Spike's head was moving restlessly against the pillow, and he wasn't
sure how much longer he could hold out, but he was definitely in favor
of making this last. They were exchanging glances now, intimate and
searching, watching each other react to what was being done to them,
their faces close enough to Spike's that he would only have had to
crane his neck a little to be able to kiss them. But he didn't need to
do even that. As they drew out the inevitable, slowing down the slide
of their hands so that Spike was pretty much fucking Giles' hand rather
than the other way around, tilting his hips up with increasing
desperation, Giles and Xander both took turns kissing him and each
other, distracting Spike -- a little -- from the sensations building up
in him as his balls tightened and his cock stiffened. He was lost in
the feel of them both; warm, strong bodies pressed close, and the very
specific feel of Xander's cock against his palm and fingers as he
learned what made Xander moan and shift even closer.
"Need to come," he said finally, staring up at Xander, turning to him
instinctively for support, the words tumbling out of him. He closed his
eyes, feeling a brief stab of shame that out of all of them he was the
one with the least control, but he couldn't help it. He groaned, his
hips jerking involuntarily, craving a hard, fast finish to this. "Fuck,
Begging them came way too easy, he thought, opening his eyes and hoping
they'd see that he was serious.
"We've got you," Giles said, the deep, authoritative rumble of his
voice reassuring and exhilarating in one. "Xander..."
And Xander's mouth came down hard on Spike's, the kiss eager and
desperate, their skin flushed and Spike's chest heaving as Giles' hand
on his cock squeezed and pumped faster as if Giles
had been jerking Spike off all his life. That
thought startled a laugh out of Spike, and he came, crying out,
shuddering in the arms of two men he'd never have imagined feeling this
close to as the pleasure wracked through him.
Alone had never been Spike's favorite state, but he'd had time to get
used it, and with the translation to work on it took him a while to
notice how quiet the house was without the two of them there. Pushing
the papers aside, he stood up and snagged a can of soda from the
fridge, sipping it as he stared out at the garden.
Nice day. Should make the most of it, he supposed.
Stepping out into the garden and all that sunshine still took a small
effort of will, but every time he did, the urge to stick his hand out
first, like a child testing the heat of the bathwater, lessened.
Not sure he'd ever feel the need to tan, though. And it really wouldn't
go with the hair.
He finished the soda in the garden, along with two cigarettes, and
still didn't feel anywhere near understanding what the hell was going
on here. Half of him thought that this was some elaborate joke, with
the punch line being some variant on the usual 'get out, Spike, we
don't want you' riff, but the buildup went far beyond the payoff.
Giles. Xander. Giles and Xander. Holding him,
kissing him, fucking him until he was a gasping, shuddering wreck in
Grinding out his cigarette on the stone path that led through the
postage-stamp sized garden, bright with flowers, but in need of
weeding, Spike stalked back in, crumpling the thin metal of the can in
He didn't know how to deal with this. Hostility and anger -- they were
easy. You lashed out, you hurt back. He was <i>good</i> at
that. He'd scored point after point with Xander those first few days;
drawn blood with a dozen sly jabs. That, he could do.
But accept friendship, trust that he was cared for -- no.
And they'd left him here. Giles had gone to his office, Xander to his
shop, promising to come back if he felt at all tired... and they'd left
him free to rummage through their stuff, dig out all their secrets,
prowl and poke around -
Even knowing that he hadn't opened more than the fridge door didn't
make Spike feel less like an intruder. He didn't belong here in this
tidy, normal little house with this -- well. You couldn't really call
them a normal pair. Not when you knew them the way he did. Not when you
knew how Xander had lost his eye -- and what put that dangerous glint
in Giles' from time to time. No. They weren't your average people and
it showed. Xander might not have realized just how scary he looked when
he faced down that Robbie git in the pub, and it seemed to have escaped
his notice that Spike wasn't the only one shorter and lighter than the
muscle-bound lunk. Spike hadn't missed it, though. Robbie had just
taken one whiff of the confidence Xander slapped on like aftershave and
caved before the punch.
Still didn't mean he belonged with them, even if they were all freaks
-- or heroes -- together.
The key in the lock jarred him out of an introspection that was verging
on depression and he went to the hall to see who'd come back early.
"Xander?" Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was checking Xander
out for signs of illness. Fuck. Knew they shouldn't have let him go
back to that bloody shop this soon, breathing in sawdust and fumes...
"You not feeling so good, mate?"
"I'm fine," Xander said, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up.
"Just figured I should, you know, take it easy. First day back and all.
I kind of learned my lesson on that one the last time around."
"Yeah?" Spike said.
Kicking off his shoes, Xander said, "Yeah. Did a whole day and ended up
needing to stay home the next one because I could barely get out of
bed." Spike could picture that, Xander too weak to get up. Seen it
himself, hadn't he.
"Maybe you should get off your feet," Spike said.
"I could if you'd move out of the hallway and let me by," Xander said
mildly, and Spike felt himself flush.
"Right," he muttered, stepping up onto the stairs to make room. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Xander said. "I was thinking about heating up that
leftover pizza from the other night. You want some?"
"What? Oh, sure. I'll do it," Spike offered. "You go and sit down." He
thought about the mess he'd left on the kitchen table. "Think Giles
would mind if we ate it in the front room? I'm kind of in the middle of
something right now and the table's covered in paperwork."
"He's been known to eat in there himself from time to time," Xander
said. "That weird yellow splodge on the carpet? Giles, a chicken curry
and me -- ah...well, let's just say he wasn't expecting me to walk in
wearing nothing but a towel, and then lose the towel when I bent over
to pick something up."
Spike couldn't help grinning as he pictured that. "I take it this was
before you two were an item?"
"God, yes." Xander gave Spike a stern look. "And no, I didn't do it on
Spike stared at him, still grinning, and waited.
"Maybe just a little bit," Xander said. "But I'll deny it to my dying
"Giles isn't daft," Spike said. "Probably figured it out, you know."
Xander shook his head. "Even so. Towel slipped. End of story." He
walked into the front room and sat down a little heavily. "Feed me?" he
"Re-warmed pizza coming up," Spike answered. "Extra gooey."
"Amateur," Xander said. "It's impossible to make leftover pizza extra
Spike thought Xander's voice sounded just a little bit strained,
though, and he quickly got the pizza on a pan and into the oven, then
grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Returning to the front room,
he found Xander slumped on the couch with his feet up on the table,
holding the remote control. "Here," he said, handing Xander the water.
"Thanks." Xander set the remote down unused and sipped at the water.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Sure," Spike said.
"No, really. I am."
"Don't look it," Spike retorted, although this close the only visible
sign of illness was that Xander looked a little pale. "And the only way
you get to move off that sofa is if you decide you need to go to bed
and get some sleep." Xander opened his mouth and Spike glared at him,
anticipating a protest. "Don't even think about arguing with me." He
folded his arms across his chest. "Or I'll call Giles."
That shut Xander up pretty effectively. He drank half his glass of
water before setting it down and saying, "I'm just a little bit tired,
okay? I came home. What more do you want?"
Taken aback by the question, Spike sat down on the edge of the couch.
"Came on a bit strong, didn't I?" he asked ruefully. "Sorry. Just
worried about you."
Because he always worried about people he cared about, even if they
numbered less than the cigarettes left in his packet of smokes. He'd
been looking out for the assorted Scoobies for years now, it seemed,
but this was different. With a small amount of resignation mixed in
with a surprising warmth, he accepted that Xander and Giles had just
joined the list of people he'd consider worth dying for.
Even if this time around he didn't think he'd be coming back.
Xander was looking at him.
"What?" Spike said.
"Nothing," Xander said. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out what's
going on in your head."
Spike shrugged. "Not much."
"Looks like there's plenty," Xander said. "But worrying about me
doesn't have to be included in it. I'm here, I'm resting and really,
"Fine. Yeah. Got that," Spike said. "I'll go and see if I've managed to
burn the pizza, shall I?"
Xander rolled his eyes. "Tell me you didn't set the oven to high?"
"Well -" Spike sniffed the slightly smoky air and decided not to waste
time defending his cooking ability in the face of the evidence to the
The pizza turned out to be on the crispy side, but still edible, and
Spike carried it on two plates into the front room, setting them down
on the coffee table and producing two pieces of paper towel with a
"Five star service," Xander said admiringly. He leaned over and gave
Spike's cheek a quick kiss before stuffing most of a slice of pizza
into his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled through his mouthful of food,
settling back and looking about as content as it was possible to be.
Spike watched Xander eat while chewing thoughtfully at his own pizza.
He still wasn't convinced that Xander was fine, but it was simple
enough to bully him into taking it easy for the rest of the day if it
came down to it.
"Stop it," Xander said wearily, leaning his head back against the
"No," Spike said, swallowing. "M'not gonna pretend I don't care when
you're sick. If you don't like it, too bad."
Xander blinked at him. "Do you?"
"Do I what?" Spike asked.
"Care about me?"
"Yes," Spike said without thinking about it. "Both of you." He gave his
words a moment's consideration as they hung in the air, and then
nodded. "Yeah. I care. Nothing new about that, is there?" Xander looked
uncertain enough to make Spike feel hurt. "Been saving your arse on
patrol for years, Xander, and we weren't even fucking then."
"I thought that was because you felt guilty about Buffy," Xander said,
not cruelly, but to Spike it felt like a punch in the gut.
"Lots of misconceptions there, weren't there," Spike said, getting up.
He remembered finding out that Red and Xander had been planning to
bring Buffy back, but hadn't told him, and he didn't like remembering.
Xander stood up, too. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it.
What, we're not allowed to mention her name all of a sudden?"
"Sit down," Spike said. "And no. Mention her all you like. Just don't
make out that everything's simple. Wasn't then and it isn't now." He
ran his hand over his hair and shook his head. "Especially now." The
unreality of it all came crashing down on him, and he stared at Xander
helplessly. "What the hell are we doing?" he asked. "You -- him --
Christ, this is insane. You can't want me. You never did before; you
just made that really plain."
"I... what? Wait." Xander looked confused. And pale. Important not to
leave that part out; important not to forget it. Spike gestured at the
couch sternly and Xander sat. "What do you mean, I can't want you?"
"Why do you?" Spike countered. "You've got Giles." And he couldn't let
himself think about how lucky Xander was -- how lucky both of them
were, until he'd come along and wrecked everything. "And you nearly
lost him and it was all my fault," he said, sitting down again because
he didn't want Xander to have to crane his neck. "And you expect me to
believe that's the time you pick to start fancying me? Doesn't make
"I'm not going to deny that I was a little bit worried for a day or so
there, but... me and Giles, that's not something that's going to just
end. Not even over you." Xander was watching him earnestly. "And we
both wanted you. Want you. We don't..." Suddenly,
Xander looked concerned. "You know last night wasn't just a one time
Spike stared down at his knees, rubbing his thumb slowly over denim
still too new to be comfortable. "Could be," he said finally. "Wouldn't
blame you both." He sighed and lifted his head, meeting Xander's
anxious eyes, all dark and wide and vulnerable -- oh
fuck that wasn't playing fair -- "Okay, that's a
total sodding lie. I'd scream and swear and kick things. Not you," he
added hastily. "But -- yeah, I'd mind. But I wouldn't -- I wouldn't be
surprised, you know? So if Giles and you have spent the morning talking
behind my -- about me, and you've got something to say, then spit it
out, will you?"
Xander reached over and put his hand over Spike's on his knee, big and
warm. "Pretty much the only conclusions we've come to at this point are
that we both want this -- with you -- and that we're not ready for it
to be anything but the three of us together. Everything else is
still..." He squeezed Spike's hand. "It's not like we were looking
for this, you know? But all of a sudden,
there you were."
"Yeah," Spike said. "Turning up out of the blue." He risked a small
smile through stiff lips. "Didn't plan this, you know. It just
happened, and I -" He opted for honesty, because it was no more than
Xander deserved. "I didn't want it to stop. You both being nice to me,
you both -" He shook his head, holding onto Xander's hand and trying
not to grip it too hard. "Going to take a while to get used to it.
And could I sound any more pathetic? he thought savagely, waiting,
cringing, for Xander to come out with one of his trademark flip
comments by way of reply.
Instead, all Xander did was say, "C'mere," and pull on his hand. Spike
went along a bit more willingly than he might have wanted to admit,
letting Xander tow him into a comfortable embrace, settled with his
back to Xander's chest. "It's okay that this is kind of weird," Xander
said. "We'll figure it out. It makes sense that it wouldn't be easy
right from the beginning, you know?"
Spike found himself chuckling. "I'd be worried if it was. For you two,
anyway. Me, I'm used to sharing -" He broke off, not wanting to think
about Drusilla and Angel. Not now. Different life, different Spike.
Before Xander could answer, Spike turned just enough to be able to kiss
Xander, an awkward, clumsy kiss because of the angle and because he
still couldn't get over that tiny thrill of shock at what he was doing.
Kissing Xander. Broad daylight. No magic, no spells, no guilt, no
secrets. Just Xander, warm and strong and kissing him back, until the
rough edges smoothed out and the kiss gentled into a final brush of
Xander's lips against Spike's forehead as they settled back again.
Spike looked down at their linked hands, resting on his chest and
relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. "Tell me if your arm goes
numb or something," he said lightly, knowing that it'd take more
discomfort than that to get him to move, but not wanting Xander to be
at all uncomfortable.
"You don't weigh that much," Xander said, sounding amused. Spike could
feel each rise and fall of Xander's chest along with his own, and he
stroked the edge of his thumb along Xander's slowly until, to his
surprise, Xander's hand went gradually limp in his as Xander fell
Spike didn't want to wake him, but after a little while he eased away a
bit and turned, studying Xander's peaceful, sleeping face. Any small
lines of tension were gone, dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks,
his hair slightly mussed. Looked good like that, Spike thought.
Everything about Xander looked good to him, and he was happy to sit
there and watch him as long as he could.
After a while, when Xander had stirred just long enough to snuggle down
even deeper into the cushions without opening his eyes, Spike stood up
reluctantly and went back to the kitchen to carry on working at the
He didn't get a lot done, because he kept coming to the door to check
on Xander, but he'd made some progress when he heard the slide of
Giles' key in the front door. In the silence of the house it was loud
enough to make Spike jump, and he hurried into the hall to stop Giles
from calling out a greeting and waking Xander.
Giles came through the door, saw Spike, and smiled, and then blinked in
astonishment as Spike rushed towards him to stop the front door from
being shut with a slam.
"What's the matter?" Giles said, lowering his voice in response to
Spike's frantic shushing.
"Xander's asleep on the couch," Spike told him in a whisper. "Came home
at lunchtime, had some food and dozed off."
"Is he feeling ill?" Giles asked, a frown beginning to crease his
forehead. "You should have called -"
"No," Spike said hastily, wanting to reassure him. "Don't think so.
Just tired, I'd say. He didn't feel hot or anything." Something he
thought he saw in Giles' expression made him add, "When I say he didn't
feel hot -- I don't mean I touched -- we didn't -"
Giles' hand came up to pat his shoulder, and Spike stopped talking. "If
he's been sleeping this long, he'll wake soon, I'd imagine, and be all
the better for it." Giles moved in closer and gave Spike a kiss that
was probably supposed to be casual, but ended up lasting a second too
long for that, and then said, with a smile, "Hello, Spike. How was your
As if Giles had thrown a switch, Spike relaxed. He even leaned in
against Giles and kissed him again, letting Giles' body partially
support his own. Maybe the hours of being alone in the house while
Xander slept had got to him more than he'd realized, because he didn't
feel embarrassed about his need for the physical comfort. "It was
okay," he said. "How was yours?"
"Fine." Giles shrugged out of his jacket without really moving away and
dropped it onto the floor, which was okay with Spike since it meant
they could stay where they were. "You're sure he's all right?"
"I think so."
"You've been worrying about him." It wasn't a question. Giles gave
Spike a slightly mischievous look. "Has he been snapping at you to
leave him alone?"
Spike nodded, realizing that Giles was just as concerned as he was and
that Xander didn't stand a chance of overdoing it with both of them
there to look out for him. That made him relax even more.
"He does that with me," Giles confided, slipping both his arms around
Spike. "I tend to ignore him for the most part, but I suppose if he's
going to have both of us fussing over him, he might have cause for
complaint." Giles grinned, running his hand over Spike's back and
stopping just short of his ass. Even through his T-shirt the teasingly
light touch was enough to make Spike press a little closer to him.
"Perhaps we can take alternate days?"
"Or even hours," Spike agreed.
There was a muffled sound from the living room, and Spike pulled away
from Giles and backtracked to the doorway with Giles following. Xander
had turned onto his side on the couch and was resettling himself into a
more comfortable position, blinking sleepily at them. "What time is
it?" he asked.
"Just after five," Giles replied, crossing the room slowly, Spike
noticed, and studying Xander the whole way. He must've been happy with
what he saw, because he sat down on the couch and leaned over to kiss
Xander by way of hello, without asking how he was.
Xander struggled up to sitting and gave Giles a hug, resting his head
against Giles' shoulder much as Spike had. He lifted his head after a
moment, gave Giles a smile and another kiss, and then settled back
against the couch, his hand linked with Giles', and looked over at
"You going to come here so I can say sorry for falling asleep on you?
Or under you?"
Spike walked over to them, feeling slightly awkward, partly because
they were both watching him, partly because of Xander's words, although
Giles didn't look at all bothered. He sat down next to Xander, perching
on the edge of the couch, and gave him a quick smile. "Nothing to be
sorry for. Glad you got some rest."
"Well, yeah, but there could have been, you know, conversation or
something," Xander said. He did look better, and he leaned forward and
patted Spike's thigh. "So, someone's going to cook dinner for me,
right?" he asked hopefully.
Spike looked at Giles.
"You can't keep burning things to get out of cooking forever, you
know," Giles warned him.
Spike gasped with pretended hurt. "Not doing it on purpose," he said,
which was mostly true. Tilting his head, he gave Giles a speculative
look. "But as excuses go, it's good for a few more months, right?"
Xander and Giles shook their head in unison.
"Weeks?" Spike hazarded.
"I'll cook tonight," Giles said sounding firm, "and after that we're
"Fine," Spike grumbled. Better to drop the subject, he thought, than
get into too much detail about why he was so reluctant to participate
in the kitchen, because he really didn't want to talk about it. Giles
hadn't said anything to Xander about the incident in Spike's presence,
but he didn't have any reason to think the two of them hadn't talked
about it in private. He didn't want to think about how that
conversation had gone.
He didn't like to think about them talking about him when he wasn't
there at all, really.
Giles reached over and took Spike's hand, turning it so that the faint,
red line of the cut from the knife was visible and then covering it
with his own hand. "I'll help you," he said reassuringly. "And if you
both promise to do the dishes afterwards, I might even have a go at
Sunday lunch this weekend and introduce you to the wonder that is a
Yorkshire Pudding, Xander," he added, giving Spike's hand a gentle
squeeze before releasing it.
Undone by the fact that Giles had not only understood exactly what was
going through Spike's head, but had reassured him about it without
actually saying anything, Spike stood up, brushing his hands against
his jeans. "Gonna go straighten up my stuff," he said gruffly, turning
and heading for the kitchen where he'd left his papers strewn across
He could hear Xander and Giles talking as he neatened everything into a
pile, the sound of their voices familiar enough that this place was
beginning to feel like home.
Spike wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Giles glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece and wondered lazily
how much longer he had before the peace of the house was disturbed by
the return of a -- probably -- slightly drunken pair, eager to tell him
in detail about everything he'd missed by not joining them at the White
Horse for a Battle of the Bands evening.
It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to be with them, of course, but there
were limits to what he'd endure in the name of entertainment, and
overly-cold lager and conversations that consisted of 'What? Can't hear
you!' went beyond them. Well beyond.
Besides, having the house to himself was rather nice, if only because
it brought home just how much he missed them.
Sipping happily at his whiskey, he turned a page of his book and let
his thoughts wander ahead to what the pair of them would do to console
him for what they'd consider a lonely, dull evening of solitude. The
insistent, sudden ring of the telephone came far enough into his
fantasies to have him stammering as he answered it, feeling as
flustered as if the caller had walked in to find him lying there on the
couch, his hand absently stroking his hardening cock through his pants.
"Yes? H-Hello? This is Rupert Giles." Work, he thought, feeling a
mixture of irritation and alarm. It was almost eleven, and it would
have to be a real emergency for them to call him this late.
The voice on the other end of the line was instantly and disturbingly
familiar, although it took several seconds for Giles' brain to catch up
to his body's immediate reaction. "Hey, Giles. It's Angel."
Read: Chapter 10