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Cicirossi
It started with with a (fictional, we hope) ice cream/donut/sex shop rest area on the highway. And then it just grew until it ate Cici's brain.
Rated NC-17. Contains rampant silliness, ice cream abuse, food as sex toys. If you're bothered by slash you might not want to keep reading....
Spike, Xander, and the Buffyverse ©Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers,
UPN, 20th Century Fox, Sandollar, and probably some other people I've forgotten.
It's Joss' world, we just like to play in it.
Where they stayed until they had to make a run for it. Panting, Xander slammed the door of the hotel room behind him and leaned back on it. Then he looked at Spike, and they both burst out laughing. Xander laughed until he doubled over, wheezing, and Spike laughed until tears streamed down his face.
"Oh, god, pet. The look on that guard's face!"
"Not to mention the look on mine when you picked up everything, including me, and made like Flash Gordon. Give a whole new meaning to flapping in the breeze."
Still chuckling occasionally, Spike moved to check Xander over, making sure he wasn't too badly beat up. He could've told Spike he wasn't, but he really didn't mind the pat down.
"Sorry I had to heave you over that wall. But I couldn't make it as a standing jump and carry you too."
"Don't worry about it. I've had a lot worse. Like with trolls. Besides, I'm grateful for that wall. The security guy couldn't haul his butt over it, so it gave me time to get some clothes on. I was feeling a little vulnerable there."
"Yeah? But you were cute, flopping about like that."
"Gee thanks. You flop more than I do. And why the heck did I admit that? Shower? You don't want your hair to turn green."
"Heaven forbid."
The occasional giggle fit was had while they showered, because one of them would start thinking of their wild flight from the pool complex and laugh. Spike sponged off Xander's cuts and bruises. Xander washed Spike's hair. They settled into bed feeling the warm glow of exhaustion that comes from a day full of a thousand little moments well spent.
"You know," Spike started, "tomorrow is our last full day and night here. Night after next we have to go home."
"Thanks for reminding me." It wasn't all sarcasm. Xander had enjoyed this trip much more than he'd thought he would. All complaints about Spike's driving, and talking camels and clowns aside, he wouldn't have missed it for anything. No, he wasn't going to wax all poetic and go on and on about how good this had been for their relationship, blah, blah, blah. Just, well, it had been damned fun.
"So what do you want to do with our last day, pet?"
"Well, we need to get souvenirs. But we can stay in the room part of the day and just be potatoes. Then tomorrow night I want to go to the old section of town, you know, where the plane crashes in Con-Air? Fremont Street I think it's called."
"You're so cultured."
"Oh, and where would you like to go, oh educated one?"
"Well, at the risk of sounding nancyish, I want to go to the Bellagio."
"No more clowns, Spike. I know the Cirque du Solei has a show there, with water. But no."
A sharp pinch on his left butt cheek made him wince. "Ha, ha. No, I want to goseetheartshow."
"What?" Xander thought it translated into go see the art show, but he wasn't sure.
"Impressionist exhibit at the Bellagio gallery. We can stand real close and let the dots make us dizzy."
Xander carefully hid his grin in Spike's neck. "Sounds like a plan."
Souvenirs were not procured until late in the afternoon the next day, because they got up around eleven in the morning and ordered room service. Or rather, Xander ordered room service. Spike was showering, and Xander hoped he couldn't hear more than snatches of the conversation Xander had with their waiter. Who was a good man, and managed to produce some slightly worn sheets along with their fruit, bread and cheese. Bread, fruit and cheese that he figured Spike should appreciate when what Xander really wanted was a three-egg omelet. He worked industriously while Spike bathed. The luggage stand got pulled up next to the bed, a cup of blood warmed just so, and another old sheet ripped up to match his. When Spike came out of the steamy bathroom, Xander met him wearing a makeshift toga.
Safe to say that Spike was speechless. After he stopped choking, when he could talk again, he asked, "Do I want to know?"
Striking a classical pose, Xander sneered at him. "We're having a toga party. Come on."
The urge was there to wrap Spike up like a mummy and beat him with a blunt object, but Xander manfully resisted. Difficult, because Spike kept breaking into undignified snorts and ha has, but he did it. "Will you shut up? You can't stay at Caesar's Palace without a toga party." A mighty shove, and Spike sprawled out on the bed. Xander curled up beside him and grabbed a piece of bread off the tray behind him. Dipping it the cup of blood, he turned and popped it into Spike's mouth. Which caused Spike to stop laughing, and to chew.
A small bunch of grapes was next, but Spike grabbed his wrist before he could dangle them above Spike's mouth. "Pet? I hate to complain, because freakish as this is, it's given me raging wood. But I'm starting to believe you've been replaced by a pod Xander. You let me drive. You rode a roller coaster. You got naked last night in the great out-of-not-so-private-doors. All because I asked you to. I don't want you to feel like you have to do these things just for me. Even though I'm evil and I like to have my way, I do."
"You're worried because I always said this blood and food thing grossed me out, right?"
"Um, yeah. Among other things."
With a sigh, Xander plopped the dripping grapes back onto the breakfast tray. "Okay. I'll say this one time, and then no more weirdness. I'm assuming this is what bothered you last night?" At Spike's nod, he trundled on. "Right, okay. I'll take your worries one by one. I let you drive because of a rampaging sugar rush that I knew would end as soon as we got five miles down the road. That, along with the fact that I trust you not to kill me, much as I say to the contrary, allowed me to sleep all the way here. Two: I rode the roller coaster for the sheer joy of seeing your face when you did it. You were hilarious. So I was sick. So big deal. Three: I got naked last night because no one knows me from Adam's housecat here, and even if I got arrested, nobody back in Sunnydale would ever have to know. So I could do something nice for you, and for me, and be relaxed about it. Discuss."
Spike was quiet for so long that Xander started to worry. Especially since the idiot wouldn't look at him. Then he mumbled something too low for Xander to hear, even as close as he was.
"What?"
"Said, I don't want you to be like I was with Dru."
Bang. Right to the bottom of the problem with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Xander wanted to yell, or maybe kiss Spike, but he did neither. Instead, he shifted on the bed so he was on his back, then pulled Spike over to rest on his chest. "You don't want me to do all the work."
"Right in one."
There was a frayed edge on Spike's toga, just where Xander's fingers rested, and he worried it until it started to unravel. "This isn't the same."
"How? You do all this for me, up to and including blood things that usually make you gag. What do I do for you?"
"Hmmm. Let's see. You buy me sex toys and you give me hand jobs in public." Spike gurgled, half laughing and half pained, and Xander got serious. "You worry about me when I don't feel good, and you pile me up with blankets, and you sit and watch me eat food that will knock you down with garlic breath later and never say anything, except ask me to go brush my teeth before I kiss you. You take me on vacations I didn't even know I needed and you make me do things I didn't think I could and thank god, because what kind of boring jerk would I be if I stayed the same all the time? But you know what really gets me?" A shake of Spike's head against his chest. "The way you sleep with me. I've been around vamps enough to see them sleep. Angel, you. Any little thing wakes you up. Everything is a threat."
"What of it?" Spike sounded genuinely puzzled, and Xander rubbed gently at his back.
"You trust me. Trust me not to hurt you, not to ask you to do things that you can't do, and trust me to love you. The fact that you can sleep through me waking up, going to the bathroom, and sitting on your feet while I call room service tells me everyday how much you trust me. How could I not want to do things like this for you?"
The reply he received wasn't coherent, but it was certainly inspiring. Which was why it was late afternoon before they made it out of the room. The subject of mutual adoration seemed to be pretty well closed, Spike's only other comment on the matter being, "You might have to remind me of all that sometimes, Xan."
To which Xander answered, "Anytime, Spike."
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