Title: Who With the What?
Summary: Spike and Xander get hot and sweaty, and one of them bleeds - which could lead to some mild hysteria...
Who With the What?
"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Xander stopped to wipe his brow with the shirt he'd long since removed. He stared at the hole they'd been working on for what seemed like hours and sighed before picking up his shovel again. "Shouldn't you be doing twice as much as me?" he grumbled to Spike. "What with the super-strength and everything."
"Maybe I just like watching you sweat," Spike leered, licking his lips. "And I have been doing twice as much as you - I just don't get all hot and sweaty and—Duck!"
Years of living on the Hellmouth had prepared Xander for such non-sequiturs and he hit the ground immediately. Even so, he barely missed being decapitated by the Fyral demon that had taken a swipe at his head. As it was, he received a long scratch across his shoulder that stung like the devil.
He raised his head from the loose dirt in which his face and chest had landed, watching with mild interest as Spike began banging on the demon with his shovel. When he'd beaten it into a state of near-unconsciousness, he asked over his shoulder, "Don't suppose you have anything pointy on you made of silver?"
"Gosh, no. It never occurred to me we might need tableware to finish this job. What do you want silver for?"
" 's the only thing that kills them... usually. Ah well, there's the old standby, I guess." He reached down and grabbed the Fayrl's head, twisting until it popped off with a gush of green fluid and stench.
"Ugh!" Xander sat up and wrinkled his nose. "And ow!" he added as he moved his damaged shoulder.''
Spike moved away from the dead demon, smiling with satisfaction. "The old ways are always the best," he said, dusting his hands theatrically. He cocked his head and sniffed the air. "I smell something besides dead Fayrl," he said, his eyes riveted on Xander's shoulder. "Oh, I smell something much, much better...."
He walked towards Xander, licking his hips. "Here, Harris, let me take care of that for you...."
Xander frowned. "You brought a first aid kit?"
Spike shook his head and grinned. "Got your first aid kit right here," he purred, leaning in and running his tongue up the deep scratch before Xander could realize what he was doing. Putting his arms around the speechless man, he began to lick the cut in earnest, ignoring the sputtering and high-pitched whimpers from Xander.
When he'd cleaned the cut to his satisfaction, and also stopped the bleeding, he loosened his grip on Xander and pulled his head back. "There you go," he said. "All clean and beginning to heal. Now, let's get you home and into a shower so you don't get any more dirt in it."
Still speechless from both the rough first aid and Spike's apparent interest in his well-being, Xander let Spike lead him back to the basement apartment they'd been reluctantly sharing. He responded to the little shove Spike gave him towards the bathroom by nodding and kicking off his work boots. He was unzipping his pants as he entered the bathroom, and paid no attention to what Spike was doing. It wasn't until he was standing under the hot water and sighing at the way his muscles were relaxing that he realized Spike had followed him into the bathroom.
Suddenly the small space was too crowded as the naked vampire joined Xander under the water.
"What are you doing?" Xander's voice reached heights he'd never realized were possible. His hands fluttered around as he tried to decide between covering himself or pushing Spike out of the shower.
"Just making sure you get all those hard-to-reach places, Harris." Spike grinned and pointed at Xander's rapidly hardening cock.
"That's not hard to reach!" he responded, groaning when Spike burst into laughter.
"No," he said, stroking it and causing Xander to begin to pant. "It isn't hard to reach at all..."
It only took Spike a few more minutes to calm Xander down enough for him to appreciate the vampire's unique version of continued first aid.
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