Wicked Writing Wench (perverted_pages) wrote,
Wicked Writing Wench

Truth Denied 8/?

Title: Truth Denied 8/?
Pairings: Spander (eventually)
Appropriate Ratings: NC17 overall but this chapter... PG13
Warnings: Nothing in this short bit.
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: About five years post NFA, Xander needs a job, like, NOW! And runs into someone he knows where he'd least expect it.
Word Count: 1577 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: tamakin with some Spike help from limerickgirl. Thank you so much again!!! Any errors are mine and mine alone.
X-posted to: perverted_pages, bloodclaim, btvs_lightsout, btvs_slash, btvsatsdotcom, darker_spike, spike_fics, sxandviolence, spanderslash, darker_vault, sickchicks, spike_xander, xander_slash, i_need_a_parrot, all_fics_btvs, nekid_spike
Archived Outside LJ At: adultfanfiction.net, The Spander Files and My Back-Up IJ Account

Comments keep my muse well fed.

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He woke up hours later to heavy banging on his door. He groaned and buried his head under the thin pillow but it did nothing to block out the sound. He didn’t want to be around people today, didn’t want to talk to anyone, but that had to be his landlord. No one else came to visit him and if he didn’t answer soon his landlord would use his own key to barge in. Maybe he was here to change the locks two weeks early. Maybe he was here to fix Xander’s stove, not that he had any food to cook on it anymore. Maybe he was here to change the showerhead that dribbled instead of sprayed. Maybe he was here to finally put Xander out of his misery. That’s the thought that drove him to his feet. He was pretty sure his landlord was non-violent, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a first time for everything.

He pulled the door open with a lurch, squinting against the daylight outside and someone pushed their way into his apartment before he processed who it was. When he finally noticed the shock of almost white hair Xander went weak kneed and nearly fell. He scrambled to grab a chair and fell into it. Thankfully his apartment was so tiny everything was always within easy reach.

“Spike! What are you doing here? I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss, I really hope I didn’t screw things up with your plans to buy the place. You didn’t have to come here to ream me out, I know I failed, I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” He was breaking down, breathing quicker and quicker, easily ramping himself up to a full hyperventilation attack. He was sure Spike was here to yell, maybe throw a few punches, but definitely let him know what a looser asshole he was for screwing things up for Spike so spectacularly.

Spike took one look at Xander and came up behind him, telling him in low tones to put his head between his knees, pushing Xander gently into position. He knew the boy couldn’t hear him, not now, but he spoke calmly, rubbing his back until he was sure he was going to stay put and scrambled in the miniscule kitchen for a paper bag for Xander to breathe into.

When he finally found one he saw Xander straighten up and look at him with suspiciously damp eyes, one hand clenched in his gut, pushing his fist deep into his abdomen, as if trying to stop a wound from bleeding, or keeping his guts inside his body. Something wasn’t right, that much was obvious, he just hadn’t known before he got here how bad things must be. He’d never seen Xander so distraught, not even when Buffy had died the second time. The closest he’d ever seen Xander like this was when he’d tried to kill him after seeing that fateful Magic Box video the three dweebs had set up.

“Xan, sssh, it’s alright,” Spike pulled up the only other chair in the room and placed it close to Xander. He nudged his chair forward until his inner thighs pressed against Xander’s outer one’s and grabbed his hands, trying to sooth and comfort. “Nothing bad happened, alright? We had a full staff, you didn’t disappoint anyone last night. Well, other than the customers who really wanted to see you up close an’ personal, but a little taunt an’ tease is good for ‘em, innit? Keeps ‘em comin’ back for more. It’s alright Xan, really, just relax. I didn’t come here to tell you I was disappointed, I came here to give you this an’ talk for a minute.” He handed over a banker’s envelope and pressed it into Xander’s hands. “This is your half o’ the tips last night, minus your DJ fees. And before you ask, no, I didn’t give you more than half.”

Xander stared dumbly at the envelope, feeling the slight bulge. It was thinner than he expected, not that he had been expecting anything. He clutched at it, trying to remember what he was supposed to do with it when Spike plucked it from his hands and ripped open one end, spilling the contents onto the tiny table beside them. Xander stared dumbstruck.

There was a single hundred dollar bill and a pile of twenties. He reached out with a shaking hand to fan them out, get a better idea of the actual numbers. He didn’t understand, the bills in the bag had been mostly one’s.

Spike read the confusion on his face. “The bar takes the small bills an’ gives us the big one’s. Easier to give change to the patrons that way when they ask for tippin’ money. This way we just keep re-usin’ the same ones and most of the fives instead of hoppin’ over to the bank every night for small change. Just under four hundred here, pet,” Spike tapped the pile with his index finger.

“F-four… four hundred? For one dance?” Xander was stunned, the words fell past numb lips and echoed in the silence of his head. Four hundred was almost half a month’s rent, and it was all for just a few minutes of work, on one night. He wondered how much he would have brought in waiting tables before realizing most of this money was because of Spike. Actually, all of it was because of Spike. Spike taught him, got him the job, danced with him… the fact that they had such a huge crowd because of Spike and not because of his questionable talents didn’t get past him either.

“Thanks Spike,” he whispered, hand trembling over the pile, not daring to breathe on them, not daring to grow attached. “You can take it though. I’m sure you must have lost some money after I ran out. I don’t want to owe you guys anything, or make you think… that I was trying to screw you over or anything.” He pushed the pile across the table, nudging it against Spike’s hand.

"You daft git, we haven’t had that big of a night since the ruddy club opened. They LOVED you, an’ don’t you worry about missin’ your turn waitin’ tables. They all think you were just too shy to go through with it an’ for once, they loved you for it. Wish I could convince you to come back. Chad’s worryin’, kept askin’ me to call you but I don’t have your number.”

A thought occurred to Xander, “How’d you find me?”

Spike smirked, “Left your address on the employment application thing, didn’t ya?.


Their conversation was abruptly cut off by a loud crash erupting from the upstairs apartment, followed by imaginative swearing and accusations of infidelity. Xander winced and quickly looked away from Spike. This was too much like his parents basement for comfort, and he was just waiting for Spike to make some kind of snide comment about leaving home but home having found him. He was surprised when Spike just sat there, waiting. Apparently becoming human had changed his snarky attitude. Either that or he’d learned some tact. In either case, Xander appreciated it. He stood up and scooped up the bills, folding them into his back pocket and held out his hand to Spike.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here, I owe you a meal.” He pulled Spike to his feet, their faces so close he could feel the blonds breath on his lips. He felt his own breath catch on the intake in reaction. He stepped back awkwardly until his back touched the wall, standing bow legged and straddling the chair. He looked like an idiot and he knew it, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t be that close.

He licked his lips and quickly blurted out, “And before you argue, yes I owe you. I don’t take charity and I repay favors. You know that.” Spike nodded silently, face carefully neutral when he stepped back and moved his own chair out of the way. They both winced again when something else breakable was tossed about upstairs.

“Give us some quiet to talk about things, yeah? ‘Cause some things need to be said,” He hadn’t looked away since he stood up, clear blue eyes locked to his, unmoving, unblinking.

Xander nodded, swallowing thickly. He hoped Spike wouldn’t be loud when the yelling began. He couldn’t stand any public humiliation from the one person he’d been honest with after… everything. Not now.


A.N. To anyone who the last chapter didn't scare away, I'm trying to come up with a few new dances, but am having a really hard time with songs! If you have anything you think would be perfect (and now y'all have an idea of some more of the inner workings of the major players) a DL link and your reasoning behind the recommendation would be muchly appreciated. C'mon! Gotta be something else sexy the boys can dance to!

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Tags: angst, post nfa, spander, stripping, truth denied

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