August 30, 2006
2,830 words
Written for txrabbit in the maleslashminis's Spike round. Request found
after the fic.
* * *
Xander stopped in the doorway and contemplated the sight before him. Looked like they'd started without him.
Not that it bothered him, not at all. They were beautiful together, their legs and arms tangled until they looked like only one person and not two. Xander liked to just sit back and watch them, even though he often felt like an outsider, because whenever they touched, they forgot the world around them, and only saw each other.
And it wasn't really a surprise, either. Spike and Wesley had been together long before Xander had come along, long before he'd been ready to accept that Spike was alive, let alone in a relationship with Wesley.
When Xander and the others had swept in, saving Angel's people's asses just seconds before they were about to all be killed, he'd had no idea what he was in for. Willow had found Wesley; she'd found a pulse, very faint but enough to work with, and she'd made with the mojo, and three weeks later, Wesley was waking up in the hospital, Spike holding his hand, and both of them alive.
Xander had been a bystander. He'd come to the hospital, sometimes, sitting down with Spike, neither of them saying a word in the silent room, as the monitor by Wesley's side beeped steadily, the only sign that Wesley wasn't gone. He hadn't understood Spike's insistence that he couldn't leave Wesley's side, until Spike had explained everything. Sex, then friends, then something more that Spike hadn't really been able to comprehend until he'd heard that Wesley was dead, and then there was nothing left. But Wesley wasn't dead, and there was something left after all, and Spike couldn't go away. Couldn't let Wesley wake up without Spike being there, showing him-
Of course, Xander had freaked out a bit, because Spike? So very not gay, at least not in Xander's book. Now, Wesley? That was another matter entirely, and Xander couldn't say he was surprised. But beyond that, the thought that Spike was in love was, in its very own self, scary.
Then Xander had come to the hospital to find them both gone, and Spike hadn't called-not even to tell Xander that Wesley had opened his eyes. And Spike had promised. So Xander had left, asked Giles for an overseas assignment and gone to Montreal-whoever had said Canada was an English-speaking country had been very wrong, and Xander should totally kick their ass. He didn't know a word of French, and the slayer he'd come to find and train spoke not a word of English. But they'd worked it out, and in the end, Xander had flown back to England with Diane in tow.
He'd stumbled upon Wesley in the corridors of the council. He was thin and looked ready to break, but there'd been a smile on his face, and Xander hadn't been able to stop himself from smiling back. A bar, a few beers, and then Spike had joined them. Xander had almost bailed then; he'd always hated being the third wheel, but Spike and Wesley had both begged him to stay, and that's when they'd become friends. Xander hadn't asked for another assignment, and Giles had let him help at the office.
Xander hadn't understood why he hadn't wanted to travel again. He really liked it, but there was just something-something that was going on here that he couldn't run away from. Spike had apologized, said he hadn't thought beyond the point where Wesley was awake and all Spike had wanted was to take him home. And Xander accepted that. He knew love when he saw it, and this was definitely love. Even if Spike and Wesley didn't ever say the word, Xander could see it.
They met again and again, for coffee, for a beer, for a night out on the town. For fun. Xander couldn't remember when he had felt this-content with life. Prone to smile at any time of day, even in the middle of a pile of paperwork. Giles had commented on it, offered Xander a permanent job in the office, instead of in the field, and Xander had accepted. If only because it had made Giles smile, and that was a rare thing now, and it made Xander want to make it happen again. And what better way to do it than to stay around?
It wasn't that bad of a deal either. Spike, Wesley, a great apartment, a good job that paid well, and enough time on his hands to do some carpentry whenever he felt like it. It was a good life.
And then, one day, he'd walked to Spike and Wesley's apartment; they'd invited him over for the evening, to watch a soccer-football-match, and Xander had accepted. He never knocked on their door, just walked in and took off his shoes-because Wesley was just a tad anal retentive about the state of the apartment-though according to Spike, that was a new thing-and you don't wear shoes in a house that clean, especially shoes covered in wood dust. He'd heard noise coming from the living room, unmistakable; moans and groans, and the sound of flesh on flesh. Xander knew he should have turned around and left, just let them finish and come back later-he was early after all-but he hadn't.
He'd been holding his breath as he walked down the hall, his sock-clad feet silent on the hardwood floor. He'd stopped in the doorway, his eyes fixed on them. Wesley was bent down over the arm of the couch, facing Xander, his eyes lowered to the floor; if Wesley looked up, Xander was busted. Spike was standing behind Wesley, his eyes closed, his hips moving fast and hard, slapping against the flesh of Wesley's buttocks.
The sight made Xander instantly hard. And he couldn't move. His mouth dried up. He was panting. And he couldn't stop his hand from touching his crotch, caressing his jeans-clad erection.
And it all suddenly made sense; the dreams from which he'd wake up sweating, and hard, and unable to recall anything; the need he felt to hear Spike's voice, or Wesley's, on the phone at least once every day; the way Xander shivered every time either of them touched him.
Wesley had looked up then. He'd licked his lips and tugged on Spike's arm until Spike had opened his eyes.
The rest, as they say, was history.
Now Xander was standing in the doorway again, his hand moving against his covered cock, and panting. They weren't fucking; Spike was on top, Wesley's legs and arms wrapped tightly around him, and they were moving slowly, their cocks brushing against each other. Xander moaned. Wesley looked at him, and pushed Spike off him. He beckoned Xander closer.
He didn't have to do it twice.
***
Spike sat back, watching Wesley undress Xander slowly, knowing it was all for his benefit. Xander liked to watch them fuck, Spike loved to watch them undress each other. Both so different, both so beautiful and his.
Wesley's agile fingers were working on the buttons of Xander's shirt, exposing the tanned skin beneath. Xander's broad hands were moving under Wesley's sweater, pulling it up over his head. Spike licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from them; they were both Spike's lovers, Spike's everything.
When Wesley had lain in the white hospital room, the machines surrounding him all that kept him alive, Spike hadn't known what to do. The despair he'd felt had been almost enough to drive him away. He couldn't risk himself that way again. But Xander had sat with him, and Spike had had no choice but to stay. He guessed he owed Xander that as well.
Spike wasn't the kind to just open up and share-except when he was, but this was not one of those cases-Xander hadn't asked anything of him. For once in his life, Xander stayed silent. Maybe that was why Spike had told Xander then what neither he, nor Wesley, had told anyone. The first time had been just after Spike had regained his corporeal body. He had tried Harmony, of course, because he knew she would be willing.
It hadn't been enough. Not for Spike, and he had gone looking for more. Looking for somebody to touch, and be touched by. Wesley hadn't been the obvious choice, far from it, but he had been there, offering to take Spike out for a beer. A beer had turned into several, and Spike had woken up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed, feeling sated and content for the first time in years.
So, of course, they'd done it again.
And again.
And one day, Spike had woken up first, something that usually didn't happen. He had leaned on his side, his elbow holding him up, and looked at Wesley. Really looked at him. Spike had felt something stirring inside him. "No," he'd said out loud, sitting up and sliding out of the bed. He'd grabbed his clothes, and left. Everyone knew what happened when Spike fell in love, and he wouldn't let Wesley be caught up in that.
Spike was too far gone already; he just hadn't known it yet.
When he'd thought he could rein his feelings in, Spike had gone back to Wesley, and ignored the accusing stare, because Wesley couldn't have been that hurt; he was never in the bed when Spike woke up, so what did it matter if the situation was reversed? And yes, maybe Spike had stayed away for weeks, but it's not like they were together.
But they had been increasingly tender with each other. The hard sex made way to a gentler coupling, and Spike had spent more time mapping out Wesley's skin with his fingers. Spike had denied that it meant anything, though, until-
Until Wesley had died. Then everything had been clear. Spike had decided then that denial was not the answer to everything. Life was too fucking short anyway.
Fortunately for him, Wesley had understood exactly what Spike was feeling. Spike had taken him home and made love to him for the first time. Tired, aching, and smiling, Wesley had fallen asleep in Spike's arms, and that's when Spike had remembered Xander. Who still didn't know that Wesley was awake, and let alone home.
Spike had called, gotten the answering machine, but one look at Wesley, and he couldn't leave a message. Not for something that important. So he'd promised to whoever was listening that he would call Xander first thing in the morning.
The morning had gone on too fast, Wesley and Spike waking up late, and discovering each other again, until they'd been too hungry and sticky to stay in bed. When Spike finally called Xander again, he was gone. Giles told Spike that Xander had requested an assignment somewhere far from England, and had left within the hour.
Xander was gone for months; months during which Spike and Wesley's relationship shifted and changed, from uneasy friends, to lovers, to partners. Wesley was hired by Giles to research and teach at the new Watcher's Academy, and Spike did the odd job for the council here and there. Spike wouldn't let himself be tied down by accepting a real job offer, with a steady paycheck and an office. Not after L.A., not when Wesley was already was already tying him down to-something.
He still had some dignity.
And then Xander had come back, and they'd grown closer, and Spike couldn't ignore the fact that Xander was becoming more and more important. Wesley and he had talked about it, accepted that there might be more there than met the eye. When they'd discovered Xander leaning against the doorway, touching himself as they fucked, there had been no doubt that they would invite him to share their bed.
Four months now, and it just got better every day. Spike didn't care if they were tying him down even more tightly, stealing more and more of his heart as the days passed. It was worth it when he saw them like this, their skin exposed, their cocks hard and leaking, and their mouths moving across each other's in a dance that had Spike aching to touch them again.
And so he did.
***
Wesley had been so absorbed in Xander's lips, so intent on kissing all those doubts and fears away, that he hadn't felt Spike come closer to them until his fingers had brushed against Wesley's back. Whenever Spike touched him, Wesley shivered, his body immediately tuning itself to Spike's fingers. Tonight was no exception.
Spike trailed his fingers from Wesley's buttocks up to his neck, and Wesley knew he was doing the same to Xander, because Xander was thrashing quietly against Wesley's body in that telltale sign of being tickled. Xander was so very ticklish. Spike pressed his palm against the back of Wesley's neck and drew them apart. They reluctantly let go of each other's lips, panting, and looked at Spike. Spike who bent his head down, and captured Xander's kiss-swollen mouth, leaving Wesley to watch and lick his lips, his cock aching at the sight before him.
Wesley loved to watch them kiss, just as much as Spike loved to watch them strip, and Xander loved to watch them fuck.
Xander still had a lot of uncertainty, despite all the times Spike and Wesley had done all they could to drive them away. Xander still believed he was just a fleeting passion, and would soon be forgotten. Wesley worked every day on undoing that, and proving to Xander that he was as much part of him as Spike was. Part of them both. A necessary third to their whole.
Waking up in that hospital room, after he'd been so sure he had died, he couldn't have dreamed of being where he was now. It had been a shock to find Spike there, asleep on the chair. It had changed everything. The whirlwind that had followed, between Spike's confession, and Wesley's subsequent release from the hospital, and that night, had made Wesley's head spin, but Wesley hadn't ever regretted living.
Not even when he'd learned that Charles hadn't been as lucky, and that Angel had disappeared soon after their rescue, Illyria in tow. No, Wesley hadn't regretted it then either. He couldn't.
He had noticed that Spike was disappointed at Xander's disappearance, and it had taken a while before Spike had told him why. No, Spike hadn't been interested in Xander, at least, not consciously then, but he still felt that Xander had run away from him-them, for some reason that he couldn't understand. Then he'd told Wesley about all the nights that Xander had sat with him, by Wesley's side, silent. Xander had been the first one to know about them, to know about Spike's feelings for Wesley, even before Wesley had known.
And instead of feeling betrayed that Spike had confided in Xander, Wesley had felt relieved. Spike had had someone. When Wesley had lain there, so close to death that Willow had had to rely on magic to keep him alive, Spike had someone to support him, and not let him fall.
Wesley had been the first one to understand that Spike had feelings for Xander that were almost as strong as the ones Spike held for him. Not that he had told Spike until Spike had figured it out on his own. That would only have led to arguments, and possibly a fight.
Finding out that he had feelings for Xander himself, that had been unexpected. Wesley had expected to be friends with him, uneasy friends, considering the depths of emotions Spike felt for Xander. Wesley had never dealt well with competition.
But then Wesley had seen Xander at the office, and he'd smiled, and Xander had smiled back. The friendship was far from uneasy, and Wesley understood how Spike felt from the first night they'd gone out to drink. The subsequent talk with Spike hadn't been easy, both of them feeling as if they were betraying the other, until they'd realized that it didn't matter at all, because if they both felt the same way, then it wasn't a betrayal. Just another step to climb.
And climbed it they had.
Wesley reached a hand out, wrapping his hand tightly around Xander's erection, stroking it as Spike kept kissing Xander, their tongues tangling together. With a sigh, Wesley pulled Spike away from Xander and brought him close, kissing him. He loved the mingled taste of Xander and Spike, both so different, and yet so beautiful.
They never said 'I love you', and they didn't need to. Wesley knew, and Spike knew, and Xander would know. In time, he would understand exactly how much he meant to them both, and until then, they would keep showing him, every moment of every day that they spent together.
The request:
Your name: txrabbit
Male character you want paired with Spike: Xander & Wesley
Up to three things you want in your fic: Happy ending, affection between the characters
Up to two things you don't want: Death of main characters, unhappy ending
Preferred rating: Adult