My Scorpion

By Firehorse

Epilogue

Ian MacAllistair stood, confused and disbelieving, in his apartment doorway. The deliveryman was impatiently holding out the clipboard for his signature.

"Look, buddy, I don't know who sent it. All I know is the boss says 'deliver this' and I deliver this. To you. Are you gonna sign for it or not?"

Shaking his head with bemusement, Ian signed by the X and stood aside as the deliveryman tipped two large boxes and a slightly smaller one off his dolly.

He pushed the door closed then headed to the kitchen for a utility knife. Finding one, he slit the packing tape on all three boxes. He pulled the biggest box open then gaped in surprise. Inside the box was a new computer-a PowerMac G4; top-of-the-line, with a superfast processor, enormous memory, all the bells and whistles.

In fact, he'd bet- Yep, the other big box contained the 23" flat-screen monitor. He scrabbled the third box open and dumped out nearly a dozen software programs; all the big useful ones and a couple of games besides. Underneath the pile was an envelope with his name on it.

*From who? Who was sending him a new computer, and why?* Well, he decided, no point in trying to guess when the answer was there in his hand. He slit open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper and read.

Hey, Ian-

Bet you're wondering what's going on. With the money and stuff, I mean. You're welcome, by the way.

You remember that weekend? So do I. One of my best memories, actually. This is thank you. Not for the sex, but for making it good. For showing me it could *be* good. Better than good. Something not to be afraid of.

If you hadn't happened, then Spike couldn't have happened, and my life would be way different. So thanks, man, for everything. And now it's my turn to happen to you. All you used to talk about was getting your degree. Well, go get it!

Do better in chemistry than I did, ok?

Xander

PS: Spike says 'thanks, mate' too.

There was a strip of heavy paper taped to the bottom of the letter. He carefully peeled it off and turned it over. It was a strip of black and white pictures from a photo booth, with one end torn off.

The first picture was Xander, grinning at the camera. Ian was surprised to see how mature he looked. The last traces of boyhood were gone-this Xander was a man.

The second was of a good-looking but somehow feral man with white-blond hair, looking at something off-camera. The angle of his head threw his cheekbones into stark relief. This must be Spike, Ian thought.

The third picture was Xander and Spike side by side, faces together, with Xander's cheek propped slightly on the top of Spike's blond head. Xander was flashing his trademark goofy grin, but Spike wasn't smiling. Ian looked again. Something about his eyes... Whatever it was, Ian finally decided that Spike looked happy too, even if it wasn't obvious.

The fourth picture was Xander and Spike again, this time facing each other. And kissing. Whoo, boy, were they kissing, Ian thought with a grin of his own. Spike's far hand was twisted in the hair at the back of Xander's neck; Ian could see his knuckles. His near hand was reaching down, out of camera range. Xander's near hand was bunched in Spike's dark t-shirt, and he was leaning down, into Spike.

The fifth picture...wow.

Pieces of memories flashed past Ian's mind's eye. Xander, kissing him with hesitant eagerness. Wide-eyed and breathless at the touch of Ian's mouth on his cock. Near tears after Ian first touched the sensitive, secret place between those tempting cheeks. Xander, hesitating, before he entered Ian, and the look of awe as he watched Ian come, his cock still deep inside. The heartbreaking trust in his eyes as Ian had prepared him, slowly and gently. And the ecstasy, god, the ecstasy on Xander's face as he came, clenching hard around Ian's cock, head thrown back, neck tightly corded, hair sticking damply to sweaty temples. And Ian's favourite mental snapshot, Xander, asleep on his chest, sated and content, with a small smile still lingering and the silver tracks of happy tears drying slowly in the moonlight.

Ian shook himself out of the past, back into the present and looked at the fifth picture again.

Xander, sprawled on the bench in the booth. Spike was in his lap, back to the camera, his head buried in the crook of Xander's neck. Xander's hands were on the blond's ass, obviously pulling him forward.

But the expression on Xander's face was what made Ian smile. Full of laughter and love and lust, he was winking at the camera.

Chuckling to himself and wondering what was on the *other* strip of pictures, he stuffed everything back in the envelope, and began putting his new computer together.

 

~Fin~