Title: The Long Term Plan
Words: 722 words
Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments. I want you to!
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: They're in a car, on a desert highway, and Spike is being particularly Spikish. Futurefic.
Notes: Written for entrenous88, who requested 'Spike/Xander, driving, after they've had a fight?' Title chosen by reremouse, who also alpha-read. :D
The first fifteen minutes of the drive were completed in a stony silence that lasted at least ten minutes longer than Xander would have previously believed possible.
Spike put on his best apologetic pout and leaned closer.
Another minute and a half dragged past, the silence broken only by the ticking of the road beneath the wheels and the muted roar of the engine. Xander's attention was fixed, determinedly so, on the otherwise empty stretch of Interstate that was leading them inexorably on towards the distant mountains, the dark ribbon fading out into hazy heat ripples just below the horizon.
The throaty purr had Xander glancing sideways automatically.
Somehow, Spike had arranged himself against the door so he was half-turned to face Xander in the driver's seat. His head was tilted back against the necro-tinted glass and he was studying Xander through lowered lashes, the tip of his tongue trapped between even white teeth.
As if that wasn't distracting enough, he'd also managed to unbutton his shirt and was naked from neck to navel.
Eye flickering rapidly back and forth between the empty endless road and his infuriating passenger, Xander took a moment to wonder where the ever-present undershirt had gone.
The next quick peek was promptly hijacked by the sight of elegant fingers, tipped in - Xander blinked and stared harder - rich purple, pseudo-casually flicking open Spike's brass-buttoned fly. Three buttons, then four, and there was Spike's erect cock, crown standing proud above the rolled back foreskin, glistening in the carefully filtered sunlight.
It was a beautiful sight.
Xander forced his attention back to the road.
"Put it away."
A lightning flash of a glance showed Xander that, yes, Spike was indeed wearing his 'why for art thou rejecting me?' expression.
"Jesus, Spike, can you at least try and keep it in your pants for the next few hours? This contract could be our ticket to the big time, and you've already told this guy's assistant that you're my houseboy. And don't for one minute think I've forgotten you had to've broken into my office to pick up the business phone in the first place."
Radiating injured innocence, Spike re-buttoned his jeans and then his shirt, making a show out of fastening each and every button with great care.
"How many hours do I have to be good this time, and what's it worth? Captain of industry like yourself wouldn't want to be caught screwing his employees out of hard earned dosh, now would you?"
Xander's fingers curled tight around the steering wheel as he wilfully resisted the urge to run them off the road and jump the vampire who was practically begging to be jumped.
"Spike, you're my business partner, remember? Not one of the downtrodden proletariat workers." And then, off Spike's stunned mullet expression, "I looked it up, okay? After the last time you pulled the 'poor abused wage slave' routine. It seemed expedient."
"Oh, I know you got that one off Rupert. Has he been giving you tips on the care and handling of vampires again?"
"I have him on speed dial, but you know that already. If I didn't, at least one of us would be dead by now. Eight years is a hell of a long time relationship-wise for me, Spike."
Reaching out, Xander snagged one of Spike's hands from his lap and carried it back to his own thigh. The rest of Spike quickly followed until he was pressed tight against Xander's right side, fingertips tracing the inside seam of Xander's high-priced pants from knee to groin.
"It's a spit in the ocean, love, I keep telling you that. I'm going nowhere and you keep getting better with age. Give it another ten years, maybe fifteen, and you'll be the big success you think you need to be. I bet you'll have pretty silver wings in your hair from getting there too. That's the time to do it: before your knees and back are buggered up beyond all fixing."
This argument, just like the previous thousand and one, faded away to nothing as the road rolled out beneath their wheels; as the mountains moved incrementally closer; and as Spike explained to Xander, yet again, what they'd do when it was his turn to plan their future.