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Disclaimer: "The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, and David Greenwalt Productions, 20th Century Fox, and whoever else may have a hold upon them. The situation is wholly mine, and I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights."

Spoilers: through the beginning of the seventh season of BtVS

Summary: Xander discovers the love that dare not speak its name. There's an apocalypse, naturally, and some tasteful male nudity. The only caveat is that in this world, Anya and Spike never slept together.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Suki and Ame for encouragement on the naughty bits . Thanks to Shannon for helping this fic get out there in the first place.

Ohmygod, Giles and Willow caught us. Caught me, almost doing IT with Spike. Ahhh, this is not good. Why are they not saying anything? Is . . . is Giles laughing? Giles is laughing! He is so laughing, behind that glasses polishing. Does he think we can’t see him when he does that, just because he can’t see us? Willow is not laughing. She is looking at the floor, shuddering in shame and revulsion . . . Oh wait. She’s laughing, too?

Xander noticed that Spike had settled back down on the bed beside him, one hand draped loosely across Xander’s thigh, the other fishing for his cigarettes on the nightstand. The young man resisted the overwhelming urge to flee the room, and instead said the first thing that came to mind. “So, Master Vampire, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do. Did ya leave all your Spidey senses back at the Hellmouth?”

Spike took a drag and leered at him suggestively. “No. I was just a bit . . . preoccupied, pet.”

“Well, I believe we can assume that Xander has made a full recovery, Willow. Why don’t we adjourn to the Magic Shop where I’m sure Spike and Xander will join us later this evening.” Giles replaced his glasses and turned to leave the room.

“Wait a minute. That’s it? My father figure and my best friend of all time catch me in the middle of a smoochathon with another guy, said guy being not so much guy as dead guy, and that’s it? No interventions or scary displays of magic? Just the uncontrollable laughing?”

Giles sighed. “Xander, grow up. You might think your attraction to Spike was artfully concealed from the rest of the world, but you would be sorely mistaken. The both of you wear your hearts on your sleeves. I don’t think you could keep your emotions a secret if you tried, Xander, and Spike seems to suffer from the same predicament. In addition, you both seem quite partial to soulful glances at the other’s retreating backside.”

“Even Buffy noticed after awhile, Xander.” Willow laughed again at the incredulous looks from the men on the bed. “Okay, maybe Dawn clued her in . . .”

Spike interrupted, “The Niblet knows about me and Xander! And she told the Slayer! We didn’t even know about it until just now, witch!” Spike clutched at Xander’s hand at this unexpected news. “What does Buffy think?” he asked quietly.

“Buffy thinks it’s weird, but good. She also has several speeches planned about your imminent demise should you ever hurt Xander, but those are really better coming from her.” Willow’s voice softened, and she said, “You and Buffy have a history, Spike, not all of it pleasant, but she . . . she told me she knows what it feels like to be loved by you and that Xander’s a lucky guy.”

Giles cleared his throat and took Willow by the elbow. “We’ll be expecting you later tonight at the Magic Box.” Before the pair turned to leave, Giles made one last comment. “I’m happy for the both of you. We all are.”

Spike sat silently for long minutes after they’d gone. Xander knew this silence was a good one, so he just let it envelop them, sat back and made good friends with it. He had started to feel sleepy again when the hand draped across his thigh began to creep suggestively upwards. Xander sighed (yet again, but this time in pleasure) as their lips met in a continuation of the kiss they’d shared before.

Oh my fucking God! Spike’s hands are in my pants—which are now in several pieces across the room. Good. Terrible pants, getting in Spike’s way like that and . . . he’s. . . Oh Dear Lord! Why does my internal sex monologue sound like Giles? . . . but Oh Dear Lord, won’t he have to breathe sometime soon? Oh right, undead, no breathing. I knew that . . . that. . . that. . oh fuck Spike fuck Spike fuckSpikefuckfuckfuck . . . .sigh. He’s smirking that sexy Spike smirk, whispering love you in my ear and we’re kissing again. My hands in his pants now and . . . thank God he went first because otherwise I’d be hiding in the bathroom about now indulging in some womanly feelings of inadequacy. Surely this is the penis in the DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER? emails in which, I am assured, size does really matter, the important detail being—any size but yours, Xander. But he’s moaning and writhing—moaning my name—William the Bloody is clutching the back of my head and moaning XanderfuckXanderyesXander. And I love this man, and he loves me and I have done this to him. Torn this cry from his lips, this shudder from his body—ME! Kissing again. Kissing Spike so of the good. He tastes like me, which should be Ewww, but instead is so fucking hot. And, I do remember one phrase from Health Class—refractory period—which apparently doesn’t apply to vampires because Spike is asking me to let him . . . and I’m scared, but mostly I want and . . . perfect . . . fucking perfect SpikeSpikedeepgaspneedwantlovefuckfuckohgodyesplease . . . I love you.
***
Xander and Spike stood hand in hand before the Magic Box. Behind the window, Dawn and Buffy argued, both rolling their eyes at the other. Willow worked diligently at her crossword, and Giles watched them all with quiet, paternal amusement. He glanced up and took in the pair loitering on the sidewalk. The Watcher smiled at them, a smile that said, “Welcome—c’mon in.”

Spike looked at Xander. “Shall we, love?”

“Yeah, Spike. Let’s.”

The End.

	Roomies - Part Seven Fiction by Lorraine
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	Disclaimer: "The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, and David Greenwalt Productions, 20th Century Fox, and whoever else may have a hold upon them. The situation is wholly mine, and I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights." Spoilers: through the beginning of the seventh season of BtVS Summary: Xander discovers the love that dare not speak its name. There's an apocalypse, naturally, and some tasteful male nudity. The only caveat is that in this world, Anya and Spike never slept together. Author's Notes: Thanks to Suki and Ame for encouragement on the naughty bits . Thanks to Shannon for helping this fic get out there in the first place. Ohmygod, Giles and Willow caught us. Caught me, almost doing IT with Spike. Ahhh, this is not good. Why are they not saying anything? Is . . . is Giles laughing? Giles is laughing! He is so laughing, behind that glasses polishing. Does he think we can’t see him when he does that, just because he can’t see us? Willow is not laughing. She is looking at the floor, shuddering in shame and revulsion . . . Oh wait. She’s laughing, too? Xander noticed that Spike had settled back down on the bed beside him, one hand draped loosely across Xander’s thigh, the other fishing for his cigarettes on the nightstand. The young man resisted the overwhelming urge to flee the room, and instead said the first thing that came to mind. “So, Master Vampire, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do. Did ya leave all your Spidey senses back at the Hellmouth?” Spike took a drag and leered at him suggestively. “No. I was just a bit . . . preoccupied, pet.” “Well, I believe we can assume that Xander has made a full recovery, Willow. Why don’t we adjourn to the Magic Shop where I’m sure Spike and Xander will join us later this evening.” Giles replaced his glasses and turned to leave the room. “Wait a minute. That’s it? My father figure and my best friend of all time catch me in the middle of a smoochathon with another guy, said guy being not so much guy as dead guy, and that’s it? No interventions or scary displays of magic? Just the uncontrollable laughing?” Giles sighed. “Xander, grow up. You might think your attraction to Spike was artfully concealed from the rest of the world, but you would be sorely mistaken. The both of you wear your hearts on your sleeves. I don’t think you could keep your emotions a secret if you tried, Xander, and Spike seems to suffer from the same predicament. In addition, you both seem quite partial to soulful glances at the other’s retreating backside.” “Even Buffy noticed after awhile, Xander.” Willow laughed again at the incredulous looks from the men on the bed. “Okay, maybe Dawn clued her in . . .” Spike interrupted, “The Niblet knows about me and Xander! And she told the Slayer! We didn’t even know about it until just now, witch!” Spike clutched at Xander’s hand at this unexpected news. “What does Buffy think?” he asked quietly. “Buffy thinks it’s weird, but good. She also has several speeches planned about your imminent demise should you ever hurt Xander, but those are really better coming from her.” Willow’s voice softened, and she said, “You and Buffy have a history, Spike, not all of it pleasant, but she . . . she told me she knows what it feels like to be loved by you and that Xander’s a lucky guy.” Giles cleared his throat and took Willow by the elbow. “We’ll be expecting you later tonight at the Magic Box.” Before the pair turned to leave, Giles made one last comment. “I’m happy for the both of you. We all are.” Spike sat silently for long minutes after they’d gone. Xander knew this silence was a good one, so he just let it envelop them, sat back and made good friends with it. He had started to feel sleepy again when the hand draped across his thigh began to creep suggestively upwards. Xander sighed (yet again, but this time in pleasure) as their lips met in a continuation of the kiss they’d shared before. Oh my fucking God! Spike’s hands are in my pants—which are now in several pieces across the room. Good. Terrible pants, getting in Spike’s way like that and . . . he’s. . . Oh Dear Lord! Why does my internal sex monologue sound like Giles? . . . but Oh Dear Lord, won’t he have to breathe sometime soon? Oh right, undead, no breathing. I knew that . . . that. . . that. . oh fuck Spike fuck Spike fuckSpikefuckfuckfuck . . . .sigh. He’s smirking that sexy Spike smirk, whispering love you in my ear and we’re kissing again. My hands in his pants now and . . . thank God he went first because otherwise I’d be hiding in the bathroom about now indulging in some womanly feelings of inadequacy. Surely this is the penis in the DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER? emails in which, I am assured, size does really matter, the important detail being—any size but yours, Xander. But he’s moaning and writhing—moaning my name—William the Bloody is clutching the back of my head and moaning XanderfuckXanderyesXander. And I love this man, and he loves me and I have done this to him. Torn this cry from his lips, this shudder from his body—ME! Kissing again. Kissing Spike so of the good. He tastes like me, which should be Ewww, but instead is so fucking hot. And, I do remember one phrase from Health Class—refractory period—which apparently doesn’t apply to vampires because Spike is asking me to let him . . . and I’m scared, but mostly I want and . . . perfect . . . fucking perfect SpikeSpikedeepgaspneedwantlovefuckfuckohgodyesplease . . . I love you. *** Xander and Spike stood hand in hand before the Magic Box. Behind the window, Dawn and Buffy argued, both rolling their eyes at the other. Willow worked diligently at her crossword, and Giles watched them all with quiet, paternal amusement. He glanced up and took in the pair loitering on the sidewalk. The Watcher smiled at them, a smile that said, “Welcome—c’mon in.” Spike looked at Xander. “Shall we, love?” “Yeah, Spike. Let’s.” The End.