AN: I'm somewhat stuck on the last chapter/epilogue, so please bear with me and my fickle muse.
At first he worried that he’d been knocked out and was seeing stars the way it always seemed to happen in cartoons. Then he worried that some kind of hell dimension had found his way into his apartment and set it on fire. Then he realised what he was actually seeing.
There were candles placed in various nooks of his house, soft fairy lights strung up so that the entire apartment looked like something out of a Christmas catalogue. Stepping over the bags he’d dropped, he walked further into the room. He was both expecting and surprised by the gorgeous Christmas tree that had been erected in a corner of his lounge room, gleaming much like the rest of the room with warm lights and tinsel, complete with an ornate star on the top.
Something caught his eye and he moved closer to find half a dozen presents wrapped in silver paper with a pale blue ribbon tied carefully around each one. Turning slightly he tried to take in the rest of the room. There wasn’t a single detail that hadn’t been accounted for. A noise from the direction of the kitchen alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone in the picture-perfect twilight zone he’d stepped into.
Nervous, he tiptoed into the kitchen and was glad he hadn’t picked up his shopping, because he would have dropped it again.
“Spi-ke?” His voice broke on the name and he tried again, “Spike? What’re you doing here?”
“Basting a ham, what’s it look like?” Which would have been a perfectly normal answer, but for the last few weeks of hell.
“Um, o-ok, sure… Why are you basting a ham?” He wasn’t really sure how to feel, other than incredibly confused.
“’Cause otherwise it dries out. You sure you work in a kitchen?” The fond exasperation in that tone jarred sharply with their last conversation and he found himself leaning against a wall for support.
“Here, go sit and sip on that, I’ll be out in a mo’. Seems you and I need to have a little chat.” Automatically, he took the cup thrust out at him and swalllowed a mouthful.
“Eggnog?” Surprise clouded his features for a moment. It wasn’t store bought eggnog either; and his eyes flicked to the bowl full of it on the counter.
Taking his cup to the couch he did as he was told and sat, still staring at what had been done to his apartment in amazement. Two and two finally clicked.
“You did this, didn’t you?” He didn’t raise his voice, well aware the vampire in the other room could hear him if he wanted to.
“Not much good with wordy apologies.” Was all the confirmation he got back and he snorted at that. Spike could convince an Inuit to buy snow if he tried.
Again, it took a moment for the words to really sink in and he went to get up again, “Apologies?”
“Stay there would you? I’ll be out in a sec.” Xander had the sudden surprising realisation that the blond may have been steeling himself for… whatever conversation they were about to have.
With that realisation came another; if Spike was nervous then he should probably be terrified. Jumping up he set his drink on the coffee table and shot to the bathroom with a vague comment he hoped sounded something like “taking a shower”. What actually came out sounded more like “nerves in the bath”, but he was just a little too freaked to correct it.
Cursing himself for a fool, Spike threw the oven door shut and sighed. Picking up his own cup of eggnog he slumped on the couch and waited for the brunet to come out. What felt like an eternity later he heard the water shut off, and shortly afterwards Xander shuffled out. He watched the boy practically fly into his room before shutting the door. Spike decided to give him five minutes before he was ripping the stupid thing off its hinges.
Now that he had it in his head, he was all for it his current plan; no holds barred. So long as the human would let him get a word in and he could stop talking about stupid inane things like the bloody ham.
About two seconds before he really did get up and threaten to kick the door in, a familiar brunet head poked out and made its way cautiously to the couch. Sitting, Spike noted, as far away from him as the human possibly could and still remain on the same piece of furniture.
“Right.” He announced suddenly, and watched the other man jump slightly, “Here’s how it’s going to go; got a couple of things that need airing yeah? So I’m going to say my bit, and you’re not going to interrupt.”
He could see the human already drawing breath to speak and reached across the distance to put one hand over his mouth, “Not one word. You’re welcome to the floor once I’m done with it, but not before, yeah?”
Waiting until the boy nodded, he released him, if a little reluctantly. Standing, he paced and wished he could have a smoke without the boy pulling the face that said “I’m not going to ask you not to, but I’d rather you didn’t” without uttering a single word.
Choosing the human’s approach to their current situation he took a breath and, well… babbled, “You’re a prat when you get too much drink in you and you’ve got god only knows what going on in your head. Partly my fault, should have known better than to let you get you pissed in the first place. But you can still be a wanker about it. You’re also beautiful when you’re like that though. You lose that… hesitance that hangs over you like a cloud and everything that you do; dancing, laughing, even shouting your bloody lungs out at me has this radiance to it.”
He could see Xander drawing breath to speak out of the corner of his eye and pointed a finger accusingly without looking at him. “Not a sound.”
Waiting until he got a sheepish nod of agreement he continued, “I was a twat. An’ ‘m man enough to admit it. You’re one of the bravest men I know, Xander Harris. Loyal to the point of stupidity and so much the White Knight it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
This was not how he’d meant this to go. Not that he’d had a plan so much as a rough draft of a possibility of an idea, but it sure as hell didn’t involve him waxing lyrical on the boy’s finer qualities. Giving up the ghost he threw the remnants of his foolhardy idea to the wind and decided to go with what he’d wanted to go since Red’s little slip of the tongue.
Xander really wasn’t sure what to think when Spike started talking. He was half expecting to be berated for being a giant jerk, which was entirely true, but didn’t really fit with the new décor. When the vampire started babbling in much the same way he had when he’d been trying so pathetically to get out the words “I like you”, his eyes widened slightly.
And they widened again to comical proportions when there were suddenly cool lips pressed against his, gentle hands holding his jaw as though it was made of glass. Not really thinking he opened his mouth to say… something, and found a tongue like cold velvet pressing against his bottom lip. Trying not to freak out too much at the fact that he was kissing a vampire- especially when he’d only very recently admitted to himself he was that way inclined- he sighed and relaxed into the kiss.
Feeling Spike break away slowly, he looked at the blond who, he suddenly realised, was kneeling with slim legs on either side of his own. Not quite able to decide what to say he made a questioning noise and was rewarded with a blinding smile. Very carefully, the other man plucked the cup that he hadn’t even realised he was holding out of his hand before leaning back to put it on the table.
While the action itself was innocent, the small strip of skin just above pale hipbones that it revealed seemed positively pornographic. Not daring to look at blue eyes he reached a hand out and lay fingers over that patch of skin. Watched the muscles bunch and flex as the blond held himself motionless, still half-reclined to reach the table.
Uncounted moments later he looked up and took a deep breath, “Spike. What’s this – I mean what’s going… what are we doing?”
Smiled when the blond laughed, because it was an infectious kind of chuckle and he couldn't help it – didn’t really want to, “Honestly Harris, I don’t have a bloody clue. Wouldn’t mind finding out though, yeah?”
And ok, for all his previous “I’m straight as a straight thing” protests, that sliver of skin was still sending tingles to his fingertips. He smiled up at the man kneeling over him. Feeling bold, he reached the hand that wasn’t thumbing that addictive patch of skin and drew Spike’s head towards him. Maybe Willow was right, he didn’t think he was gay but he was definitely feeling the idea of being Spikesexual.