Living Arrangements

By Taltos

Chapter Three

I watch him for just a second before flipping on the light and speaking. I woke up earlier with the remnants of my dreams dried to my body. Same dream almost every night. Sometimes it's less vivid and other times, like last night, it's in Technicolor. Always starring Spike; Spike's hands, Spike's mouth, Spike inside of me, my name on his lips when he comes. I repress a shiver of longing and start trying to wake him up.

"Get up curly, it's six o'clock."

"G'way."

"Nope. You promised lasagna."

"Order it from Tillio's. It's better than mine anyway."

I can barely make out what he's saying. He's on his stomach with his arms under the pillow his head is currently trying to dig into it to shut out my voice and the light. With a grin I reach down and take the corner of his comforter in my hand.

"You leave me no choice. Just remember, this hurts me as much as it hurts you."

In a flash he's sitting up eyeing me with trepidation. Ohhh, Giles word, he'd be proud.

"So help me by all that's unholy if you come at me with that water gun again I'll tie you to the tree outside, pour honey over you and let the ants eat you."

Somewhere in there he lost me. I think it was the pouring honey part. Because all I can think of right now is my naked body covered in honey with a naked Spike licking it off. Shaking off the fantasy I realize he's talking to me.

"...on high."

"Huh?"

"I said fill the six quart pot three quarters full of water and put it on high."

"Hey, not the chef tonight."

"Just until I get dressed."

"Oh."

Again, with the naked Spike thoughts. Before I embarrass myself any further, I pull the door closed behind me, and head for the kitchen. Putting the pot in the sink and turning on the tap I let it start to fill with water. I'm trying really hard not to think about the fact that Spike is naked. I'm failing. My mind wanders back to the dream.

Back to the sight of him crawling up my body laying nipping kisses along my thighs and stomach before settling his body along mine. The press of his cock against mine as his tongue slides along my chest and latches tightly onto one of my nipples. The bright blue of his eyes turning to a deep midnight blue as he looks up at me with need and love shining brightly.

"I think it's full."

I jump at the sound of his voice. Fuck, busted. I realize that the pot was probably full several minutes ago and I'm standing here staring off into space letting water run all over the place. I quickly shut off the water and search my mind for an excuse.

"Sorry, I zoned. We just got the contract on that new strip mall going in at the edge of town and I'm trying to hash out some logistics."

Not a bad save, not completely lame. I carry the pot to the stove and turn on the burner. He's rummaging around in the refrigerator pulling out ingredients.

"Xander, where's the cottage cheese?"

Uh oh. His eyes turn accusingly to me. Well he should have known better. But shit, now I'm going to have to go to the store.

"I'm going, I'm going."

I grab my keys and run out the door. Ten minutes later I'm back and the girls are already here. I never thought there would be a day when Anya and I could be in the same room and not have a scene, but once again I'm amazed at how well we've conquered the friends thing. She's forgiven me and I've groveled, a lot.

I can hear Spike and Buffy in the kitchen arguing over which way to layer the lasagna. There's a way? Guess that's why Spike does most of the cooking. I hear her voice coming closer knowing that Spike probably just kicked her out of the kitchen.

"Fine. When we have soupy lasagna, don't expect me not to say I told you so."

I set the containers of cottage cheese on the counter next to Spike.

"'bout bloody time. Keep her out of the kitchen will ya."

"Sure."

I settle on the couch next to Buffy.

"So, Buff, how'd the date go last night?"

"Don't ask. I learned more about cleaning trout than I ever wanted to know."

"Okay and Ew."

"I didn't think I'd ever wish for the days when Giles would go into very vivid detail about how to kill a Sh'lockt demon, but last night, was definitely one of those nights."

"I hate to say this, but that's what you get when you date a guy from Illinois."

"Yeah, that and a whole dissertation on the fact that the S at the end is silent."

She rolls her eyes and we both laugh. It's good to see her happy. It took a long time. It's good to see her and Willow interact without the weirdness. There was so much tension when Willow first came back. A lot of issues came crawling out of the woodwork. But I'm proud of how well they dealt with them together. I watch Willow get up and walk into the kitchen.

I have to stifle the small bolt of jealously that hums through my body. The closeness between Willow and Spike sometimes rubs me the wrong way. It's not that I don't trust him and it's not like I think that they will ever be anything other than friends, but the way he is with her. Constantly hugging her, touching her hair, her face. I want those hands on me.

They share a bond. His small touches are a reassurance to her that he understands and accepts. He understands the call of the dark that she has to suppress. He understands the way none of the rest of us ever will. Letting her know that he would be there for here if she ever needed him.

Sometimes I'm amazed at the changes in him. He's not like Angel was with his soul. Spike regrets and he's sorry, but he doesn't let it torture him. He accepts what he was. He lives with the demon and the soul, neither one vying for the top spot. The demon gets his fun at the Bronze and the soul gets to show us William.

I turn my attention back to what Buffy was saying nodding my head in agreement. I hope I didn't just agree to be marshmallow man for her again.

"You want something to drink?"

She nods her head as she reaches for the remote. I pat Dawn on the head as I pass her. Her and Anya are in a debate on the Decline of Western Civilization. Dawn has taken an interest in history this semester and who better to learn from than a twelve hundred year old vengeance demon and a one hundred and thirty year old vampire.

I hear Spike's silky voice before I enter the kitchen and I stop dead just around the corner from the door.

"Yeah...right there. Mmm, that's good, Red."

He wouldn't. Not here, not with Willow. Please God, please no. I hear his soft moan of pleasure and I can't help the rage that runs through me. How dare he, how dare she. As I turn the corner I stop again when Willow speaks.

"Spike, you have to be careful when you start throwing people over your shoulder."

I let my eyes take in the scene. Spike is sitting in one of the chairs while Willow stands behind him rubbing his left shoulder. Her face is a mask of pure innocent concentration. I feel like an idiot. He's sore from last night and she's just rubbing the knot out of his shoulder. Willow sees me and her face lights up with a smile. No secretly masked desire, no nervous energy, just Willow, being herself.

"Hey, Xander."

"Hey, Wills."

Spike opens his eyes and looks at me. Nothing there either but a lazy relaxed smile. No ulterior motives, just enjoying a friendly helping hand.

Willow turns her attention back to Spike.

"I think I got it, how's it feel?"

Spike raises his arm and rotates it several times before smiling and rising from the table.

Dropping a quick kiss on her check he thanks her.

Grabbing a soda for Buffy I grab Willow's hand and lead her back to the living room.

"C'mon Will, I think the chef wants to be alone with his noodles."

I hear Spike snort behind me and I smile as we leave the kitchen.

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