California Dreamin'




"Hmm. Hey, Spike? It's a good thing you're not in Sunnydale anymore."

"The phrase 'duh' comes to mind, Harris." Spike didn't look away from the television.

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"I know why. Don't need to ask, do I?"

"Oh, but you might want to ask." Xander rattled the newspaper enticingly, watching Spike. "It might just be something you want to know."

Spike sighed. "Oh hand it here. You're not going to leave me be until I've asked, are you?
Right, then. Oh tell me, do, why it's just as well that Sunnyhell is no more."

"Since you asked so nicely." Xander handed over the newspaper with a grin, considerately folded to the headline: Governor Schwarzenegger Outlaws Sex
With Corpses.

"I--huh." Spike snorted, tossing the newspaper on the couch and giving Xander an unamused look. "I'm not a sodding corpse, Harris."

"Got a pulse, fang boy?"

"Of course I haven't got a bleeding pulse."

"Did you once?"

"Oh, no--you're not
playin' that card with me, mate."

Xander's grin only spread wider, cheerful and bright. "But you did once, and you don't now--therefore, you are a corpse. You are not alive. You have rung down the curtain. The fact that you're still walking around and drinking my beer is absolutely immaterial. And if we were still in Sunnydale, you'd be facing a hell of a dry spell."

"And you're happy about that why?" Spike narrowed his eyes. "And when'd you start usin' words like 'immaterial' anyhow?"

Xander ignored the last bit. "Because then, I'd get to watch you
suf-" Xander stopped, staring at Spike, who only raised an eyebrow at him. "Aww, that's not fair."

"It took you this long to realize that if I'm not gettin' any, you're not either?"

"Okay, this would have been a lot more fun if it'd happened when you were living in my basement and I still hated you." Xander slouched lower on the couch, tilting his head back. He only made a quiet sound of approval when Spike's fingers ran through his hair.

"Old habits dyin' hard, pet?"

Xander opened his eye, rolling it in Spike's direction, and laid a hand on his leg.
"Gimme time. It's only been what? A few months for us?"

Two months, three weeks, four days. You want the hours and minutes?"

Xander's lips twisted, half smiling. "Yeah?"

"Five hours, and thirteen minutes."

"My vampire does math in his head." Xander sighed. "Damn. I need a new vamp target for my humor."

"Could always invite Peaches up for a visit."

"Not that badly."

"Could always turn Andrew."

"I hope you're kidding."

Spike opened his eyes wide, the picture of blue-eyed innocence.

Xander sighed. "That's not gonna work. I know you're kidding."

"You keep
tellin' yourself that, luv."

"That's it.
Moving to California." Xander closed his eye again, throwing his arm up over his face. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zip lowering was loud over the quiet television. "Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike's voice was perfectly casual, absolutely denying any knowledge of what his hand might be doing down Xander's shorts, clever fingers curling behind his balls, and pressing just right to make Xander's hips lurch up off the couch on a moan.

"Hand--hand-jobs from corpses... still legal in California. ...Spike? Ohh... okay... maybe not that...

"Still feelin' homesick for California, pet?"


"Course, never was one to let legalities get in the way of my fun.
Might add a little spice to our courtship."

Xander's eye rolled back down to a position where he could stare blearily at Spike. "Any more spice and we'll both be corpses."

"There you are, then.
Legal again in all fifty. Problem solved. Bet there aren't any laws on the books against two corpses shaggin'."

"You're a sick, sick vampire." Xander's breath hitched. "Who has my
absolute, and unrestrained approval."

Spike, mouth too full for speech, merely hummed.

It was a very smug hum.







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