Boys Will Be
“Can I buy you another round, Harris?” asked Spike, leaning across the table.
“Sure, I…Wait a minute, Spike, I bought the last round, and the one before that. You mean, can I buy you another round.”
“Thought you’d never ask, mate.” Spike watched as Xander walked over to the bar and brought them two large cups of beer. He sat them on the table as they both chugged them back. “So, you still got the hots for the Slayer?”
“No,” said Xander, a little too forcefully. “I love Anya. I’m marrying Anya in…” he squinted at his watch, “Three days. Though, ya know,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “when she wears that little white tank top…”
“The tight one. Oh, yeah. But I’d love her in anything.” He put his arm around Xander’s shoulder. “I love her, ya know.”
“Ya, buddy, I know. Must be rough, always around her and never having her. I remember, in high school…”
“Well, ac’tly, don’t tell Buffy or she’d stake me, but we’ve been shaggin’ like rabbits.” He whispered in Xander’s ear, “But don’t tell Buffy.”
“You’ve been having sex with Buffy?” Xander leaned back. “Geez, I wish I was sober enough to get mad at you. I should be, like, so angry right now.” He leaned in to Spike. “So, how is she?”
“A gentleman never tells,” Spike replied. “Bleedin’ amazing. Have you ever watched her doin’ her workout, where she stands on ‘er hands and leans her feet over backwards.” He nodded his head.
“Oh. Merciful. Zeus,” Xander exclaimed.
“’Member that day, you came over, Buffy was invisible, I was doin’ pushups?”
“I think so,” Xander said.
“I don’t do pushups.”
“Invisible Buffy sex. Wow!” Xander chugged back the rest of his beer, and headed back to the bar. Moments later, he staggered back. “Do you believe it? They’ve cut us off.”
“Fascists!” Spike exclaimed. “Come back wit’ me to the crypt. I’ve got a few bottles of the good stuff.”
Xander put his arm around Spike’s shoulder. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
The next morning, Xander woke in the space between Spike’s bed and the crypt wall. He pulled himself up, tried to ignore the large gorilla pounding on the top of his head, and shook a naked Spike awake. “What the hell did we do last night? And why the hell am I here?” He watched as Spike convulsed in hysterics. “And what the hell are you laughing at?”
“Mirror,” gasped Spike, “Bathroom.”
“You have a bathroom?” Xander followed Spike’s pointing finger to a cubicle cut into the wall. “Frilly heck!” he exclaimed loudly. “What the…Why the…” tugging on his hair.
“I seem to recall,” Spike replied, “You asking about my fatal attraction with the ladies. I replied it was my sterling sartorial sense, and my blond good looks.”
“My hair,” Xander screamed. “You bleached my hair! White! Anya will kill me!”
“I think you look right fetching, Harris,” Spike replied. He climbed out of the bed, and bent down to pick up his jeans.
Xander collapsed with laughter, barely catching his breath. “What’s so funny?” Spike asked suspiciously.
“I can dye my hair,” Xander chortled, “But I don’t have to go through eternity with ‘I love Buffy’ tattooed across my back.”
“Bloody hell!”