Title: It's Really Not.
Pairing: Spike/Xander of Buffy
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Notes: More of baby!vamp!Xander's exploits.
"It's not what you think!"
Spike looked down to the foot of the bed, then back. "Dammit, Xan! She's on my pillow!"
"Well, actually, no. She's on my pillow; this is yours. But you know you always end up wrapped around me once you're asleep. There's a permanent groove in my shoulder that's been chiselled out by your cheekbone, so I don't see what the fuss is all about. Now, please, lie back down, it's nearly dawn."
"It was either the pillow or your duster, Spike. When I took them both away she cried."
"She... My duster? Evil little..."
"It's not what you think, luv. Honest."
Xander's horrified glance skimmed over the empty pet carrier, past the open door and back to Spike's expression of defiantly vague apology.
"She was asleep! I didn't think she'd notice if I had a smoke, but she was up and out and gone into those trees before I could stop her. If I thought we could find her you know I'd..."
The sound, from ankle level, actually made Spike start. He looked down to find the thoroughly hated creature on his toe.
"Seven! You came back! Clever kitten!"
Xander petted. Spike fumed.
"It's not what you think, Spike. I'm not getting bored. I don't think we should 'see other people'. I don't miss girly bits, I don't want other men, and I don't need to know how it feels to fuck a human male. Going to that club's not about other people - well, it is, but, only as an audience, y'know? I want you to fuck me so everyone can see - 'everyone' being people who won't run screaming to the cops, for once. I'd just like the chance at a bit of exhibitionism now and then, without the constant threat of interruption."