Title: Arguments Should Always Lead To Make-Up Sex 1/1
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1340
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Arguments should always lead to make-up sex...
Notes: Written for
animadri, for 
slashfest.Her request was: After an argument, Spike finds Xander and convinces him to come back home.
Beta: De-'brit-pick'ed by
reremouse. :DArguments Should Always Lead To Make-Up Sex
Eleven countries in seventeen days; Spike was ready to scream. He'd suffered the bland interiors of more planes and trains and automobiles than any vampire could without a nice, old-fashioned massacre. But he'd been good. He liked to think it was his strength of character that stopped him going postal, but underneath he knew that it was all for Xander - he wouldn't approve. Not that he'd know, seeing as how the stupid git had run off without a word and left them chasing their tails until Angel remembered the credit card.
So. Eleven countries, seventeen days later, and Spike finally tracked his runaway down to a cheap hotel, balanced on the edge of a muddy river in northern France. The door shook beneath the force of his 'pissed off vampire' knock, and he listened to the muttering, shuffling noise inside the room.
"This door's made out of cardboard, pet, I can hear you plain as day. You can open up or I'll come straight through, it's all the same to me." As added punctuation, Spike gave a feeble kick.
The door swung slowly open with a Hammer Horror creak, and Spike was treated to the sight of naked Xander, in a threadbare towel. They stared at one another for a while and then Xander sighed.
"I don't know what you're doing here but you might as well come in." He dropped the towel and quickly pulled on a pair of battered blue jeans, followed by a dark grey knitted sweater that clung to his still damp skin. Perched awkwardly on the corner of the badly sprung bed, he snatched the towel back up and gave his head a vigorous scrub, removing any opportunity for meaningful eye contact.
"You don't know what I'm doing here? Cheeky git! You're the one who hopped the first available flight from LAX and disappeared into the Orient without a bloody word! I was going crazy trying to find out where you'd gone, and then you disappeared off Willow's radar!"
Xander's right hand moved to touch the point of his left shoulder, and Spike made a mental note to see what he'd had done. Later.
"For two long days we thought that you'd been killed, or turned or worse. Then Angel, stupid git, remembered giving you the credit card - only for use in the direst of emergencies, or so he said - and then he ran a check and there you were, as large as life, charging your way around the bloody world. Of course, Red wasn't convinced, she said anyone could use the card. She wasn't happy until she'd seen some proof that it was you. Security at Athens airport's still in bloody chaos - she hacked the camera network, gave it fits until it found you, then wiped the lot in case they tried to trace it back to you."
Xander lowered the towel but didn't raise his eyes, apparently too interested in the orange-green-brown carpet.
"So Willow sent you?"
The defeated slump of Xander's shoulders told Spike the question wasn't a joke. For whatever reason, his boy was convinced that he no longer cared.
"Xan..." Spike stopped and swallowed, determined not to let the fearfuckrage response of his demon take control of the conversation. "Xander, love, you upped and disappeared without a single word. Nobody even knew that you were gone until I said. I'm here because I love you, and I thought that you loved me, and if you don't, well at least you should tell me why, and to my face. If nothing else I think I deserve that much."
Ripples of disbelief spread out across Xander's face, leaving him sitting open-mouthed and stunned, the ragged towel a tightly twisted rope between his hands.
"We'd argued again on the drive over and I figured it was my turn to initiate the make-up sex this time. I opened the door and I saw you! Both of you! Together. Less than an hour in that damn hotel and you were in his arms. You'd just refused, again, to take me as Consort without his permission, so I figured you'd probably be glad to see me go."
For maybe half a second, Spike's mind was a complete blank - he didn't have a clue what Xander was... Oh.
"Oh. You saw that?"
"What, Spike? The hug? The kiss? Or did I see you 'shag'? Actually I left before you got that far."
Caught between tears of relief and the urge to shake his lover until his brain leaked out of his ears, Spike moved forward and dropped to one knee in front of Xander.
"Idiot. The hug was meant as a 'thank you' to the stupid git. The kiss was, well, a final fond farewell, as much as anything. It's taken a while but Peaches has realised just how much you mean to me, and that night he caved to pressure and said yes. I was going to tell you once we were in bed, but you were gone. Please don't ever leave like that again."
"I... I don't... I can't... Yes? What did...? He said yes?"
The weakest fibres of the towel caught between Xander's hands began to pop under the stress of near constant twists and strains. Spike reached out to grab both cotton-wrapped fists and hold them still.
"Angel said yes, luv. He'll let us do the ceremony. He's even agreed to do the whole 'Master of the Clan' bit, to make it all official to those who know and give a damn. You're going to be the first full-blooded human Aurelius Consort in three centuries, give or take a decade, maybe two. I figured that was worth a hug and a kiss."
"Oh."
"Yeah. So, ready to come back home and make amends? Red'll want to know exactly how you ducked her tracking spell, and the slayer is going to want to kick your arse for running off."
Xander winced, and Spike knew what had him most scared. A kicking from the slayer was bad, but he'd upset his Willow. Spike had seen the power of the witch's trembling bottom lip and he was just glad it wasn't aimed at him.
"I, uh, might have over-reacted just a bit. I probably should have stayed and had a screaming match instead?"
"Probably."
"Yeah. Oh God." Xander's pulse spiked and his breathing started to get erratic.
"Xander! What the bloody hell's the matter with you now?"
"He's gonna get the... Oh, he's going to kill me now, for sure. He's never going to accept me into the family after this!"
Spike's thighs flexed, lifting him up from the floor and onto the bed where he wrapped his arms tightly around his panicking future Consort.
"Shhh, luv. Calm down. If this is about the bill, well, he can afford a damn sight more than that without even blinking. Not exactly as poor as he makes out, is our Peaches, so don't be worrying about his bloody credit."
"That's not it." Xander grinned weakly, automatically more relaxed now that he was in Spike's arms. "I, uh, might have sent you both some 'gifts'. Every now and then I just got mad, you know? So I'd shop and put a package in the mail then feel all vengeful, at least until I woke up the next day."
The bed groaned beneath their combined weight as Spike leaned back, tugging and arranging Xander until they were both as comfortable as it was possible to be with their knees and feet hanging over the end of the bed.
"You've got a really wicked streak hidden inside you, Xan. Love that, I do. What did you send?"
"First of all, there was the Hello Kitty vibrator from Japan, along with a geisha how-to kit with a kimono meant for you. Then I sent six pounds of badly wrapped yak butter from Tibet, with a note suggesting he use it instead of his over-priced hair gel. The goat came next, I think - that was in India..."
Originally posted at
slashfest, so most fb is here. 