Cross posted to slashthedrabble and my regular journal.
AtS – Season 5 Post Destiny – Spike/Angel, Wesley
“Really now, Spike. Don’t you have anyone else you can bother?” Wes looks at the recently recorporealized vampire with disdain. “I’ve little enough time to work on these translations without having you not breathing over my shoulder.”
“Sorry mate. Seems you’re my victim by default.” Spike grouses. “Everyone else has a life... and their own apartment.”
Reluctantly looking up from his books Wes feels a momentary twinge of…empathy for the morose blond. “If you wish, I can intimate your need for a place of your own to Angel. Perhaps a calm suggestion would go a long way…”
“Yeah, right. You intimate to Angel all you like. Angel and me have never been intimate,” Spike sighs, his eyes glazing over with a far away look. “… except for that one time…”
That catches Wes’ attention. “You and Angel were intimate?” he murmurs, almost too low to be caught by preternatural hearing. “Pray tell?”
The vampire snaps back to himself, personal shields strongly in place. “That’s not what I meant, Percy, and you know it. Spend twenty years with a bloke and you’re forced into some tight spots. Doesn’t mean we were shaggin’ or nothing.” Yeah, Spike. You keep tellin’ yourself that.
BtVS – Season 5 – Intervention – Buffy, Xander/Spike
Buffy is furious. How dare they even think of her and Spike in that way? Her, sex and Spike? Totally un-mixy. Even if he does look damned fine coming and going.
“No one is judging you,” Xander soothes. “It’s understandable. Spike is strong and mysterious and sort of compact but well-muscled.”
“I am not having sex with Spike,” she insists, vehemently. “But I’m starting to think that you might be.”
And isn’t that a thought for the ages? Buffy’s mind goes to a happy place. Light and dark, broad and slender… limbs entwined in passion. Maybe there should be oil.
BtVS – Season 3 – The Prom – Giles/Wesley
Dancing Around the Truth
Giles watches Wesley staring at Cordelia across the decorated gymnasium, the longing palpable on the younger Watcher’s innocent face.
“Mr. Giles, I’d like your opinion. While the last thing I want to do is model bad behavior in front of impressionable youth, I wonder if asking Miss Chase to dance would…”
“For God’s sake, man,” he spat, unable to control his temper any longer. “She’s eighteen, and you have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone. Just have at it, would you, and stop fluttering about.” Giles turns and walks away, immediately sorry for the hurt that flashes across Wesley’s face.
“Right, then. Thanks for that.”
No sooner does Wesley head for the girl in question before Giles berates himself for his rash remark. Truth is, he’s jealous. He knows the man doesn’t stand a chance with a vacuous twit like Cordelia Chase. What Wesley needs is a firm hand to guide him… Giles’ hand. And now he’s blown any chance to make the overtures that should be made.
Wesley moves around the floor, stiff limbed and uncomfortable with his arms tentatively holding the girl. Cordelia looks bored. Giles wishes he could step up to the couple and cut in.