Title: The End Of The Beginning
Title: Dream a little dream of yesteryear
Pairing: Xander/Spike (eventually)
Overall Rating: NC17
Chapter Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, except for the plot, if you could call it that.
AN: Still needing a beta so all mistakes are my own. Should probably give this another run through but I wanted it up tonight.
By the time Xander had clocked out he’d almost convinced himself that the surreal exchange that morning had been a freakishly realistic dream. He was almost certain that Spike didn’t care if he was disembowelled by a T’kz demon, however, the blonde had made it rather clear that “don’t much care about your lard-ass Harris, but getting yourself knocked off would be bad for the Bit.” and that was an explanation Xander could accept.
So when he came home to find booted feet up on his coffee table he wasn’t even surprised. What did surprise him was one pale hand resting on Dawn’s knee, currently receiving what looked like a second coat of electric blue nail polish.
Muttering a “hello” as he made his way into the kitchen he gulped down a glass of water before shuffling his way towards the smell of acetone. He flopped down on the unoccupied couch, a groan slipping unbidden between his lips. He could lug I-beams all day, but hunched over paper work, going from one meeting to another, had left him feeling like hell, and he already knew there wouldn‘t be any patrol tonight, not if he wanted to see the sunrise tomorrow.
Lost in the comfort of the soft couch he missed the pleading look from the teenager and the infuriated acquiescing look from the blonde.
“Come here then you bloody ponce.” The snapped words forced his eyes open, already knowing he looked vague and stupid.
“Wha…?” Apparently his brain had dribbled out his ears at some point and he looked at the vampire dumbly.
“I said, get your flabby ass over here, pillock.” This time the words were accompanied with an eye roll.
Unsure of exactly what was going on, but too sore and tired to bother questioning, the brunette man got slowly to his feet, wincing slightly, before shuffling over to stand in front of the couch, waiting for the next order.
Xander wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up sitting between a certain pair of denim clad legs, arms wrapped loosely around his knees. In fact he was about to ask what was going on, finally brought out of his stupor just enough to realise the he’d obviously entered Wacko World when cool hands landed on his shoulders, and he wasn’t even sure the sound he made was human.
Anya used to rub his shoulders when he had just gotten into construction - ‘course that was mainly because she wanted orgasms, and there was no way he could give them to her when he could hardly move - but this was completely different. Where his former girlfriend’s hands had been soft, gently easing the muscles into relaxation, the strangely soft hands on him now demanded their compliance. Not painfully so, just with a strength that kneaded deep into tissue and had him making strangled groans of sheer bliss within seconds.
Xander wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke he felt more relaxed than he had in months; no tension between his shoulder blades snaking it’s way up his back, no standing under scalding water in the morning while he tried to loosen seemingly permanent aches.
It was only when he rubbed his cheek against his pillow that he realised the fabric beneath his skin felt nothing like his sheets, and smelt like sex, cigarettes and sin. The waking itself had been startling as always, his mind unable to make the quick snap from dream/nightmare to reality instantaneously. Obviously his brain had taken a break completely though, because he found himself breathing in, luxuriating in the feel and smell of it, not fully understanding who it was that he was rubbing his face against like a giant cat.
However, before he could think of shifting - once his thoughts caught up with his actions - or try to stutter out a good excuse, those marvellous hands were pressing into a new knot, working the new tension out of his shoulders and putting him to sleep with a satisfied groan slipping out from slack lips.
Spike had watched the human trudge in the door out of the corner of his eye, circles under the brunette’s eyes almost making it look like he’d gotten into a fist fight. He frowned slightly at the mumbled hello, wondering if this was always the greeting Dawn got when the parent figure - and wasn’t that a laugh? Xander as a parent. - came home. Flicking his eyes quickly to the teen he found her worried gaze tracking the footsteps into the kitchen, staring intently at the wall, almost as though she could see straight through it and to the tired man beyond.
The blonde didn’t bother to hide his quirked eyebrow when Nibblet’s eyes flew back to the hand she was painting as the other man shuffled into the lounge room, obviously not wanting to be caught fretting like a new mum. Again the vampire’s eyebrow went up at the pain-filled groan that seemed to slip, entirely unbidden, between tightened lips.
Looking to the small woman at his side when he felt the small nudge, he saw the request in her eyes and gave her a haughty expression. He was a Master vampire, The Big Bad, he did not give anybody massages other than Dawn when she was studying too hard - not that anybody even knew that little tidbit. Almost growling out loud when the pout came out, he sighed, snapping out his order for the man looking half dead on the other couch to shift his ass.
Hell, he almost felt sorry for the daft twit when he just stood exactly as told, obviously not functioning on even half a brain. With a gentle tug he soon had the tense man sitting comfortably between his spread legs. Giving Dawn a “you owe me big” look he set to work.
He hadn’t realised how easy it was for him to fall into the spell of working out complicated, tight muscles until he heard the boy’s heart rate drop and his breathing even out completely, chuckling softly. Keeping his touches light so as not to wake the remarkably peaceful looking man he worked the last couple of knots out carefully before just resting his hand on shaggy hair and turning to the telly to watch whatever show it was the Bit was currently engrossed it.
Subconsciously his hands had returned to working on tensing shoulders when the human’s heart rate had picked up, breathing speeding just a little as he worked through whatever dream that strange mind of his had conjured up. He frowned at the slight whimper, though didn’t notice when his hands went from kneading to comforting.
He turned his attention from one brunette to another when the figure resting comfortably against his side shifted slightly, and found himself looking down at a sadly accepting face, turned somewhat to the side to stare down at the man on the floor. Obviously these dreams weren’t anything new, or uncommon.
Hearing the heart rate return to a speed closer to waking, he set about manipulating pressure points and muscles. What he hadn’t expected was for the great lump at his feet to rub against him, damn near purring contentedly. He was grateful when the other man slipped back into slumber, unsure what to make of the quietly happy feeling it had given him, to know somebody had wanted him - needed him - if only for that infinitesimal second. Growling silently to himself he removed his hands from broad shoulders and wrapped them around the small girl beside him, cuddling into her warmth - not that he would ever admit to cuddling, he was still a vampire after all.