All About Spike

Dancing in the Dark
By Carolyn Claire

Response to the Spike/Xander kiss meme.

There were so many stars, Xander thought. Not really as close together as they seemed, of course, space being vast, and all. But, look, they all seemed to be sort of paired off, little stars nestled close to bigger ones, none of them alone, or lonely. Every star a part of something bigger.

He snorted and shook his head, then took another swallow of his beer. Pretty pathetic. He ought to just go home.

Sounds filtered out through the open back door, into the yard where he sat--couple-ish sounds, the kind that people who brought someone to the party made. Will looked so happy. Xander smiled and took another drink and tried not to remember what her lips had once felt like against his. She so deserved this. He blinked rapidly and studied his shoes.

He blinked again when a pair of black boots joined his ratty sneakers, but didn't look up. "Hey, Spike."

"Harris." Spike sat down next to him on the steps and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, inhaled deeply, and then gestured over his shoulder at the house behind them. "Sounds like a party. Shouldn't you be in there?"

Xander sighed. "Probably, yeah."

Spike nodded. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them looking up at the stars. Xander felt a touch on his arm, and looked over to see Spike offering his cigarette. He opened his mouth to decline, but stopped and took it from him instead. He took a deep drag, choked just a little, and let it out. The next one went down more smoothly.

He felt another touch. Spike was looking at his beer, then up at him, one eyebrow raised. Xander rolled his eyes and passed the bottle to him.

Spike swallowed twice, then passed it back. "Thanks."

"No problem." Xander glanced down at the cigarette he still held, took one last short hit and passed it back. Spike looked at it, shook his head, took a last drag himself and dropped it to the ground, rubbing it out with his boot.

They didn't speak for a few more minutes, listening to the laughter coming from inside the house, the conversation, the music. Someone came into the kitchen--two voices, one high, one low, giggling, murmuring, then silent. Then there were loud sounds of discovery, much laughter, and a herd of footsteps receding toward the front of the house.

Xander sighed again.

Spike looked sideways at him. "Feeling a little sorry for yourself, I gather? A bit left out?"

"Yeah, well." Xander eyed him back. "I don't see you in there, either."

"No. You don't." Spike looked off into the distance beyond the back fence, and Xander felt like a little bit of a shit.

"Not that you'd want to be."

Spike sort-of smiled. "Course not." He looked over at Xander and then away again. "Be nice to be invited once in a while, though."

Xander felt a little pang at that that surprised him. A real count-your-blessings moment, he thought. "I guess so."

The music had changed again, sliding into something slow and mournful. Sounded like the Eagles. Someone turned it up. Definitely Eagles--"I Can't Tell You Why." Xander sighed again, deeply.

Spike snorted. "Oh, don't tell me they're playing your song."

Xander grimaced. "Sort of. Not really. Long story."

Spike chuckled. "Well, you know what they say." Xander didn't, of course, and looked at Spike inquiringly. "Gotta make new memories to replace the old." He stood, and, to Xander's complete and utter surprise, held out his hand to him.

Xander stared at it as though it were a snake. "What?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Dance, idiot."

Xander barked out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, you must be kidding me." Spike stood there, his hand held out, the picture of irritated patience. "You're not kidding. I don't believe you." He laughed harder.

"It's not the bloody prom, Harris. Just a dance."

Shadows passed across a window--someone walking through the kitchen again, looking for more snacks, maybe. He'd been out here for, what, twenty minutes, now? No one had come looking for him. He looked at Spike's hand, then up into his face. Spike's brows were a little lowered, mouth pressed into a kind of prim line, like an annoyed teacher. Giles looked like that, sometimes.

What the hell. He'd made him laugh. And there was no one else out here in the back yard with him.

He took Spike's hand and stood, letting Spike lead him out into the middle of the yard, away from the edge of the light that spilled from the kitchen. The stars were easier to see, out here.

Xander felt more laughter well up. "Who's leading?" he chuckled.

Spike held up his right hand. "Be my guest."

Xander took Spike's right hand in his left and stepped forward. As his right hand circled Spike's waist, and Spike's hand slid up his shoulder, he burst out laughing in earnest, standing still and shaking for a few seconds.

Spike was looking into his face, a hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "You don't start dancing, we'll miss our song."

Xander laughed harder, pulled Spike to him, and danced. Spike was a surprisingly light partner, disappearing in his arms like there was nothing there, moving in perfect time and with practiced grace. Xander kept chuckling. He felt an odd sort of exhilaration made up of laughter and daring and contact comfort, and he pulled Spike in tight against him, unable to stop giggling, and spun them both around.

The song ended quickly, and he took a half-step back, almost regretfully, and grinned down at the other man.

Spike was smiling up at him, something open and gentle in his expression. "Better?" he asked. Xander could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, actually. Better." Xander was aware that he was still smiling and still holding the other man, and was surprised by how nice that felt.

"Good." Spike didn't move either.

They were kissing before Xander really knew what was happening, or how it had started. They were pressed together, chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other, and his mouth was opening on Spike's, and Spike's was responding, opening under his, their tongues sliding together.

The song had changed again, and they were still kissing, in the middle of Buffy's back yard, under the stars, sounds of merrymaking distant and forgotten. Xander held him tightly, pulling Spike to him so closely he might have had trouble breathing, if he'd needed to. Spike's hands were all over him--his back, his hair, his ass, and even that didn't distract Xander from the sweet, lush comfort of Spike's mouth, his tongue, the way he melted against him.

He heard the squeak of a door, a footstep on the porch, and suddenly his arms were empty.

"Xander?" Willow called to him, squinting out into the darkness. "What are you--oh! Are you peeing? Sorry. And, ew."

Xander laughed. "No, just looking at the stars." He looked up at the points of light above him, definitely much easier to see from here, away from the light from the house. Some things were like that, much clearer out of the light. "I'm coming in."

He was still smiling as he climbed the steps. Willow smiled back at him. "What's funny?"

He slipped one arm around her shoulders. "Nothing. They just played my song," he said, and followed her into the house.

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