Best Laid Plans of Spike and Men
by James Walkwithwind and Mad Poetess

"Why the bloody hell can't we just stay here? Stock up on cucumbers and fish food, and barricade the doors?" Spike was sitting on the couch, giving Xander a half-disdainful, half-bored look. Possibly because Xander was dressed.

"Because there's at least five spellcasters out there who could just teleport inside, and a damn big vampire who doesn't have to be invited in because he owns the whole place and isn't afraid to break down the door if he has to?" It sounded terribly reasonable to Xander, but Spike just waved his fingers. Pooh-pooh to the spellcasters and the pissed-off Sire, I wanna stay here and shag. Sure he did--he had that vampire healing factor going for him, if he got beaten up by a mob of angry friends and family.

"So you wanna go somewhere else, someplace sunny and at least eight hours away which means stuffing somebody into cargo, just so we can check into a hotel and stay indoors and shag all day, for two weeks?" Spike gave him a look that said he thought he was marrying a moron.

He walked up close to Spike, and looked straight in his face. It was time for the Mr. Rogers version of reality. "Spike, if we do not leave, after we get married, we will make so much noise that all our friends and loved ones will get together to kill us. Can you say 'short honeymoon,' Spike? C'mon, say it with me."

Spike just grinned. "Least we'll die happy. Don't you wanna go out with a bang?" His eyebrows went up, and he leered. Which, for Spike, meant his facial expression didn't change. "Or I could gag you. Be real quiet, then."

"You can gag me, spank me, cover me with strawberry ice cream, tie me up, and tickle me with a feather duster while you play the entire run of 'Dukes of Hazzard' in the background---" Spike's eyes lit up at the mention of the show, and Xander hurried on, because there were some things he did not want to know about his fiancé. "But you're gonna be doing it at least a thousand miles away from here. I promised more people than I can list on all of our appendages combined."

He could see Spike counting, now, and yes, he knew Spike was going to count up to forty-two. It was just the way Spike's mind worked. Or didn't work. Then Spike stopped counting, and gave Xander a pleading look. "Can't we combine some appendages, now, and look through those things later?"

It apparently didn't faze him that Xander had made promises to take them away. Since when did Spike worry about keeping promises? To anyone except Xander, and possibly Angel sometimes. And Dru. And, come to think of it, Buffy. And-- "Spike, we can combine appendages later. You have to book in advance for most of these places, so come and look at 'em with me." Xander walked back over to the spot on the carpet where he'd spread a kaleidoscope of brightly colored travel brochures out. He lay down on his stomach again, and stared flipping through the 'maybe' pile.

"Don' wanna go away," Spike whined.

Xander heard him kick at the couch, but he didn't look up. Teach the vampire right, if Xander had to pick on his own -- he'd always wanted to go to Hawaii. San Diego? Someplace on the equator... Alaska, in summer. Then again, there were other, more subtle ways to torture Spike. "Hey, not all of these places are bright and sunny. What about Torquay? Quaint little shops, lovely garden gnomes..." he read from the brochure, "and it rains day in and day out. Sounds perfect." He held up the brochure over his shoulder so Spike could see it.

Spike narrowed his eyes. "We do get BBC America, thank you. Not that Princess didn't order me the complete set of disks, two years ago. And, hey! Where did you get a brochure from them?" Spike got off the couch, and sprawled onto the floor beside him, to grab the brochure from Fawlty Towers.

Xander grinned. "Not all of these places are in this dimension. Did I forget to mention that? With all the witches and mages and whatevers we've got, they volunteered to send us pretty much wherever we want to go, as long as it's away."

"Really?" and finally, thank god, Spike sounded interested. "We could go to the world without shrimp?"

Still, Xander had to frown at him. "Spike, you like shrimp. Why would you want to go there?"

Spike shrugged. "Figure there's got to be a huge bloody shrine to a certain demoness who sent half the population there. Thought it'd be fun to bring her back pictures."

Xander considered it briefly, then nodded. "Possibly. I think it's somewhere in the maybe pile anyway. Anya says they have a great waterslide park. And it's open at night." He picked up another brochure. "Or we could go to Oz."

A Spike-blink. Slow, and full of eyelash. "Um, the prison, or the wolf?"

Xander blinked, himself. "I'm going with a big 'no' on the prison, and the wolf is coming to the wedding, but not on the honeymoon. The Emerald City, dingwad."

"What emerald city?"

Now Xander was really blinking. "We're off to see the wizard?"

Another Spike-blink, and for god's sake, he was serious. "Chaos bloke?"

"Spike, you're a hundred and thirty-three years old and you've never read, or seen the Wizard of Oz? It's on TV every freakin' year!" Xander's mouth had fallen open, and Spike took the opportunity to try sticking his tongue into it, but Xander batted him away, still unable to wipe the surprise from his face.

"What?" Spike pouted for a moment, then sighed. "Never saw it. Dru was afraid of what's her name. With the red shoes."

"The Wicked Witch of the East?"

"Dunno. Never saw it, did I? Dru always made me take her into a room with no TVs, whenever it was on. Sorta got out of the habit of thinking about it...."

Xander shook his head. "God, Spike, you've gotta see it! There's... munchkins, and this tin guy who wants a heart, and a scarecrow who wants a brain, and... a girl with dark hair who thinks she's in charge..." He blinked again. "Never let Cordy know I said that. Ever."

Now Spike was staring at him like he was the insane one. "Huh?"

"Well... Angel got the heart, and Wesley got the brain, and Gunn always had the courage, and... No. Too scary. Let's look at something else. I'll dig out the tape for you later."

Spike just shrugged, as if he truly didn't care, one way or the other. "Whatever, so, they can send us to an emerald place. What else have you got?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to argue that there was more to it than an emerald place. There were winged monkeys, for instance, and he knew Spike would get a kick out of those. But Spike showing an interest in the brochures was more important than arguing over one particular place. For the moment. "Um...lessee. There's Cleveland."

"Oo, yeah! Always loved Cleveland." Then Xander got hit on the head with a handful of brochures.

"Okay, okay. How about... Oh, God, he's gotta be kidding."

"What? Who's kidding?" Spike leaned over, and Xander suddenly realized the likely reason Spike was finally interested. Spike was lying practically on top of him. Snuggling in. Wriggling.

Xander sighed. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy wriggling and snuggling. It was just that they tended to lead to other things. Which he also enjoyed. They didn't tend to lead to making an informed, rational choice about where to go on their honeymoon. "Giles. This came out of the pile he gave me. 'Drakulon.' "

"What!" Spike grabbed the brochure out of his hands, and began reading. Soon he was chortling gleefully. "Oi, listen to this: tour package includes razing a village!"

Xander snatched it back. "Yeah, yeah, rivers run with blood, hot winged vampire chicks, blah, blah. I think not." Spike started in with the lip, and Xander shook his head. "Uh-uh. No way. Have you seen the way those girls dress?"

And here came the 'you've lost your mind' look. "Er, yeah? And your point is?"

Xander tapped the picture of the scantily clad vampiress on the cover. "I want you looking at me, not her."

Spike blinked, as if surprised by the notion. Then he shrugged -- or wriggled again, Xander wasn't sure. "Yeah? So, you're the one who didn't wanna stay home. If all you want is me looking at you, and, er, other things, we could just stay home." Wriggle.

Xander sighed again. "I want you looking at me, while we go do something fun far away from everyone who wants to kill you. Granted, since that's everyone who's ever met you, it might be hard to find someplace, but that's the point of the extradimensional ones." He wriggled back, just a little.

"Not everyone who's ever met me, wants to kill me." Spike pouted, just a little. The subtle, 'you've really hurt me this time' pout. Except it was actually the 'I want you to think you've really hurt my feelings so you'll kiss me and shag me and make me feel better' pout. "M' very lovable, once you get to know me." There was a hand on Xander's butt.

"What, in the biblical sense?" Xander teased. "Yeah, but how many people know you that well?" He started to count in his head, and realized he probably shouldn't have asked. He picked up another brochure. This one had scenes of gingerbread houses on it. "Hey, this one's actually in this dimension. Brothers Grimm World. You can eat your fill of stupid children, who are actually lifelike, blood-filled robots."

There was a soft, sad sigh from behind him. Xander braced himself to hear something like 'It's not the same'. Instead, Spike said, "Yeah, reckon you and Dru are the only ones who ever loved me."

He turned his head to look at Spike's face, wondering if it was another 'poor pitiful me, I need to be shagged until I can't walk in order to forget my troubled past' attempt, but no. Spike looked completely serious. "You think Angel doesn't love you?"

"But he still tries to kill me, sometimes." There was the faintest flash of gold in Spike's eyes.

Xander blinked at him. "Spike, he wasn't really trying to kill you in the pool. You know that, right?"

Spike looked at him, and seemed to take a second to focus. "Pool?" Then his eyes cleared. "You mean when he tried to drown me? Bloody hell, course he wasn't trying to kill me. He knows I don't drown." He leaned closer, wriggling incidentally, and whispered, "Don't have to breathe, ya know."

Xander took a deep breath for both of them, and replied, "I know, Spike. Well, what do you mean by Angel still tries to kill you, then? You know he's not serious."

"Well, maybe not in the last couple of years." Spike snuggled in again, and Xander could no longer see his face. Not without flipping Spike onto his back, and lying on him.

Which would not get them any closer to choosing a honeymoon destination. Still... "You mean way back when? Party-time Angel? Did he really try to kill you? I remember something about you hitting him over the head with a crowbar, but--"

Spike shook his head; Xander could feel him moving against his shoulder. "Doesn't matter, Xander. Don't need the great poof showering me with declarations of unhate, or demanding I not walk about naked so's anyone can see me."

Xander thought about that for a minute, and snuggled in a little himself. "You want me to demand you not walk around naked? I didn't think it would work, so I never tried."

"No, want you to demand I walk around naked. So you can shag me without havin' to go through the whole 'tearing his shirt off' bits." There was silence, then Spike said, "He was never like that with me. Angel loves me the way he loved Darla. I was part of his life for a long time, and he got used to me. Feels responsible for me. He never loved me."

"He did..." And Xander realized he couldn't speak for the Angel of then. Maybe he didn't. "He does now. And I like tearing your shirt off. Makes it all the more fun to get at what's underneath, if you have to go through a bit of work for it."

"But you haven't bought me another blue silk shirt, to replace the one you ripped last week." Pouting, again, but this was just a dare to point out that Spike had hated the shirt. Specifically, hated the flamingos on the back, pockets, and sleeves. Spike's hand slipped somewhere that was making it difficult for Xander to remember why they were talking.

"You don't even...gah. Mmm. Spike!" Xander rolled away a bit. "You wanna walk around naked for two weeks straight? Pick someplace." He handed Spike a random pile of brochures.

Spike blinked. "Thought you wanted me to shag you."

Yes, because Xander had been the one putting his hands in interesting places, and... was it even worth arguing about? "I do. Later. Now I want you to help me pick a place for the honeymoon." Or maybe they could do that later? No. Xander was trying to be good, here. Give the folks outside an answer, so they could do all their big magicky reservation thingies.

"But if I have to walk around for two weeks, straight...."

Xander rolled his eyes, reached over, and smacked Spike on the ass. "Oh, so funny. You're so bent, you make Ethan Rayne look like a ruler." He tapped on the brochures in Spike's hand. "Honeymoon."

"He's not the one who's gonna send us off, is he? Not that I don't trust him, but I don't trust him." Spike wriggled. "Smack me again?"

Xander frowned at him. "No. To both questions. Pick a place. Pick three, and we can argue over them, instead of arguing over why you don't want to go at all." He frowned again, and looked closer at Spike. "Why don't you want to go at all?"

Another wide-eyed 'who, me' look. "Why do I have to pick?" he asked, sounding put-upon.

Xander countered with 'why me, lord, why do I have to be in love with the world's second most insane vampire?' "You don't have to pick. I just want you to feel like you had some say in it." Mostly so Spike wouldn't whine when they got there about how he'd rather be somewhere else. It was a lost cause, of course, but Xander had to keep trying. "And I want you to have a good time."

"Well, all I need to have a good time is you, lots of lube, and some blackberries. And whipped cream. All right, someplace with a grocery store." Spike waggled an eyebrow. "Someplace that has cucumbers."

Xander blinked. "Right here, in other words." He ignored the sight of Spike nodding happily. "Spike, we're going away. Somewhere. If there's some reason you don't want to go away, tell me. Otherwise, help me pick a place where we can do all those things, and have some non-horizontal fun, too."

Spike pouted, then when Xander just kept looking at him, sternly, he sighed. Reached over and grabbed a brochure without even looking. "Here."

"Um...Alaskan Summer Tours? Spike, I think this was Cordy's idea of a joke." He continued to look at Spike, wondering if there was anything going on inside Spike's skull, or if they could use it as an extra tank to keep the Piranha in.

"So? We'll be inside, shagging. Who cares if it's sunny?" Spike looked at him, but after a moment his gaze slid away.

With a sigh that was less exasperated now than just concerned, Xander moved closer, and put an arm around Spike. "What's wrong? Why don't you want to leave?" Spike still wasn't looking at him, so he touched one high cheekbone with his other hand. "Spike?"

Spike's eyes flicked towards him. "You really think he loves me?"

"I...huh? Who, Angel? Of course he loves you. Wouldn't he have killed you by now, if he didn't love you?" Xander said it as lightly as possible. Spike in a sincerely morose mood meant either long, slow lovemaking to cheer him up, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but didn't get a honeymoon destination picked out, or a couple of hours of Spike staring out the window and twitching his fingers because he desperately wanted one of the cigarettes he didn't smoke anymore, for Xander's sake.

Spike sniffed. "Hasn't killed Wallace, either. Doesn't mean he loves the bloke." Wallace was the guy who brought coffee, donuts, and packets of blood every morning, to the office.

Xander rested his chin on Spike's shoulder. "Yeah, but Wallace isn't nearly as annoying as you are, Spike. Nobody's as good at pissing people off as you. Not even Anya."

"Yeah, hence us havin' to go away for our honeymoon." Spike sounded vaguely amused. But he also wriggled closer to Xander.

"Yeah. Sort of. Except it's really just about going away and having a lot of fun, so we can come back and feel like everything's different, because we're married."

Spike quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that what it's for? Thought it was just so we wouldn't annoy 'em with all the noise we're gonna make."

"Well, that too, but c'mon-- we make that much noise all the time." He gave Spike his best 'don't bullshit me' look. It only worked about half the time, depending how pouty or devilish Spike was feeling, but it was one of the better looks in Xander's arsenal.

"Bet I can make you make more noise than usual," Spike said, leaning closer. "Wanna try it now?"

Xander abandoned 'Don't bullshit me,' and went straight for 'I'm so hurt that you can't trust me with your innermost feelings.' This involved making his eyes really big, sucking slightly on his own bottom lip, and meaning it, just a tiny bit. "Spike?"

"Oh for..." Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. You wanna go on this honeymoon -- that is, go away, because everyone here can't wait to be rid of me. Now I'm supposed to ask those same spell-casting, can't stand me blokes -- and bints -- to send me someplace, and would they please bring me back in two weeks, without any pieces missing? You, I trust 'em with. And I'm not saying they'd do it deliberately--" Spike stopped, and looked thoughtful. "Well, one of 'em might. Claim it was an accident." He paused again, and when Xander tried to un-gape his mouth and respond, Spike added, "Might let Wes do it. Long as he isn't drunk."

Xander rolled half-away again, so he could get a decent look at Spike's face. "You really think they don't like you? I mean yeah, you annoy them, but you do it for fun, and they all know it. You think Wes, Gunn, Angel and Cordelia only put up with you for my sake? Spike, you're the one who got invited to live here in the first place. By Angel, the guy you think doesn't love you. I just came along for the ride. 'Cause my apartment would've seemed pretty empty without you and your spoiled fish-children."

"Mr. Harris, are you saying you're in love with me?" Spike sounded positively smug. If it weren't for the fact that Xander knew Spike could fake his way into anything, he'd have believed that was the end of the emotional crisis. Or the end of the ploy to get Xander to shag him silly. "Hey, we never talked about who was takin' whose name!"

Xander played along, for the moment. "You want me to be Alexander the Bloody?"

"No, I--" Then Spike's eyes were losing focus. Edging towards gold, again, and Xander could smell the arousal exuding from his lover. He told himself he did not want to know what Spike was thinking. Did not. Absolutely... though there were a couple of brochures to places that would actually accommodate that sort of thing. Drakulon, for one. He wasn't ready, quite, to explore how little squinchiness the thought actually produced. No. Put it away for later.

"Alexander Jones?" No immediate answer, so he tilted his head and smiled. "Alexander yes I'm so in love with you that you can call me anything you want?"

Spike's grin got even broader. "An' I can be 'Spike Harris'." His grin vanished. "Er, no. Sorry." His grin reappeared a moment later, and he seemed to be holding back laughter. "Got an idea. We can both change our names to 'Summers'. Think Joyce'd like it?"

Xander couldn't help grinning himself. "Yeah, she'd love it, but it would annoy the hell out of Buffy." He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable 'And the problem with that is?' He pretended to think deeply on the matter. "You wanna be Alexander and Spike Giles?"

"Ooo.. can we?" Spike wriggled, happily. Or else he was losing patience again with not-shagging. "Reckon I'd have to be 'William' again, though, so it'd sound all proper. William Andrew Richard Giles. And no, made those up, sorry." Spike's eyes were still glowing, though, like he intended to go through with it, just to see the look on everyone's face. Which was just so unusual for Spike.

"Duh. Like I don't know your middle name is Abelard." Xander rolled his eyes. "Well, Giles would like it. Possibly. But I'd have to change all my business cards. What's wrong with Spike Harris?"

Spike was having some trouble with his jaw. Moving it up and down, never quite getting it to shut completely. Finally he managed, "My middle name is not Abelard! Who told you such a thing and how could you believe him over me when I said my middle name was 'John'?" And 'Spike Harris' makes me sound like I'm kept, or something."

Xander wasn't quite sure which one to answer first. "Um... Dru told me your middle name was Abelard, and she never lies. She might've hallucinated it, but she wouldn't lie about it."

"Yeah? Well, it isn't. So you can just forget she ever said it. It's 'John'. Spike John Bloody. And you can just change your name to Bloody." Spike's eyes lost a little focus, again. "Er, Xander...?"

"The Bloody? No." Xander looked resolutely away from Spike's eyes, because they were causing his own to lose focus as well, and he just wasn't ready to explore that particular vampiric fantasy. Or maybe he wasn't ready to ask himself how ready he was. "And you are a kept man. I'm keeping you."

"Yeh, but that doesn't mean I want everyone I show my library card to, knowing that I'm bein' kept. I've got some pride."

He smiled at Spike. "I meant, I'm keeping you. Forever."

All the mischievous teasing flew out of Spike's eyes. "Er. Um. Oh yeah?" Spike's attempt to counter-taunt fell flat. Adorably flat, Xander had to admit, because when Spike looked like he'd been hit with a fish, he just...looked adorable. Maybe because no one but he, and possibly Dru, had ever seen him quite so flummoxed. "Er, uh. Grr."

"Yeah. Grr to you too." Xander bent his head close and bit Spike on the nose, not very hard. Then he said, "I don't care what name we take, but I want it to be the same one, so everybody'll know you're mine. 'K ?"

Spike growled again, and nudged Xander's chin with his nose. Then he nudged Xander's mouth with his chin. Just like a cat, only instead of 'scratch me' he was saying 'bite me again so you can shag me'. "Grr. Ah. Don' wanna call yer old man 'pop'."

"Okay, no Giles, then. You wanna both be Jones? And don't say the B-word again."

Spike blinked at him very slowly. Honestly confused. "Which 'B' word? An' I didn't mean Rupes. Call him Pop. Father dear, if he'd rather."

"He'd have an infarction. Okay, you mean him. The other guy. You don't have to call him anything. I don't." Hadn't called him in years, and wasn't planning to. Even to tell him his son was getting married. So there. "But if that's why you don't like Harris, how about LaVelle? It was my mom's maiden name." He was not going to explain about the b-word. Explaining it would mean saying it, and Spike's eyes would go all funny again, the avoidance of which was the whole point of telling him not to say it in the first place.

"Really? It's not some crazy aunt's name that your mum wanted to name you after?" Spike nudged him, again, bumping Xander's chin a tad more forcefully.

Xander gave a resigned little pff-sigh, and bit him on the nose again. Then, "No, at least not according to my Mom's parents, who ought to be able to remember their own last name." Them, he had called, once he'd tracked them down, and they'd been delighted with the news. Well, with the marriage news. He hadn't quite figured out how to break the vampire news, just yet.

"MM.. rrowr." Spike wriggled again, a bit more slowly. More writhingly. Presented Xander with a jaw to bite. When Xander didn't bite right away, he raised his head enough to look at him. "Spike LaVelle. Hmm. Yeah, actually, that has a ring to it. Enough to strike fear in the hearts of stenographers everywhere."

Xander winced a little. "Actually, hearing it out loud, it makes you sound like a porn star. A crushed-velvet and low lighting because of the cheap sets nineteen-seventies porn star." Which of course would do so much to dissuade Spike from taking the name.

"Yeah? You'd rather I were 'Spike Wyndham-Pryce'?" Then Spike chuckled. "Angel and Gunn would shit bricks if they heard that...can we go tell em? After you finish biting me, which, by the way, you stopped doing why?"

Xander dutifully nibbled on Spike's jaw, while he thought about it. Spike Wyndham-Pryce. He snerked, right into Spike's neck, when that thought led him to the next obvious one. He pulled back a little, and tried to say it without cracking up. "Spike...heh..heh. no, wait, I can do this." He took a deep breath, and Spike covered Xander's mouth with his own. After a moment, Xander laughed again. "Not nice. Well, okay, nice, but not fair. Spike Gunn?"

Spike managed an offended look. "You think he wouldn't let me take his name?" Then Spike was laughing right along with him. "Oi! If you be Alexander Wyndham-Pryce, an' I can be Spike Gunn... heehee... Angel'd swallow his hairgel."

"We can be detecting partners. You're like Mike Hammer, only you'll only have sex with me, instead of every woman who walks into the office, and I'll be like... um..." He couldn't think of any wimpy, Wyndham-Prycey type detectives. Except the original, who wasn't really all that wimpy anymore.

"Jacques Clouseau?"

Xander blinked. "The underwater explorer guy?"

Spike whapped him on the ass. "Who's the bloody philistine now? Jacques Clouseau, from the Pink Panther movies. Tell me you haven't seen 'em, and I'll bite you."

Decisions, decisions. He had seen them, but... "Tell you what-- bite me first, then I'll tell you whether I've seen 'em." Anyway, he wasn't the Inspector Clouseau type. If he wanted to find something, he could find it. He'd found Spike once while he was hiding behind the cucumber rack in the grocery store, for instance, merely by the fact that one of the cucumbers really didn't look right.

"Hm. Sounds fair." Spike leant over and bit him.

"Ow!" Xander whapped Spike on the head, then rubbed his ass. Which obviously didn't hurt too much, or Spike's chip would have gone off, but he had to at least go through the motions of protesting. Why, he wasn't sure, since he was kind of hoping Spike would do it again. "Yes, I've seen them, and no, I'm not Inspector Clouseau. Or even Inspector Wydham-Pryce. Oh well. We'll think of something." He reached underneath Spike, which elicited a lot of wriggling, and pulled out several colorful brochures. God only knew which pile was the maybe pile, anymore. They'd have to go through them all. "What about EuroDisney?"

"You're a what?" Spike looked at the brochure Xander had pulled out. "Is that what you were after?" He pouted the 'you don't want to shag me' pout. Number 16. Which Xander did. Sooner than later. But they had to at least make an attempt to go through these things, so he could tell everybody at dinner that they were still discussing it, and not have to lie.

"EuroDisney, Spike. It's in France. They have teacups."

"You want teacups?" And, frighteningly enough, Spike didn't sound like he was marrying a complete loon. He just sounded surprised, like Xander had told him after four years that he liked Irish oatmeal better than cream of wheat.

Xander shook his head. "Big teacups. You can ride in 'em. They go around in circles."

"Do they?" Now he sounded like he did whenever Dru said...well, anything.

"So I'm guessing any place that sells Mickey Mouse ears is right out, then?" Xander pouted at him, just a little. Not that he really wanted to go to EuroDisney; he just liked getting Spike on the defensive.

"Do they also have large plastic tarps?"

"Do they..." Actually, if they were anything like Disneyland, they did. For when it rained. But he really didn't want to know why Spike wanted to know. He really, really... "Why?" It was like passing the scene of an accident and not stopping to get out and help. He just couldn't stop himself.

"So we don't have to listen to whoever's paying for this, bitch about paying for carpet cleaning. When I strip you down and slather you with blood."

Oh, now, there, Spike had gone and said it, and now he had to think about it, and... And the thought of Spike licking anything off him, even blood, made him want to roll over and let Spike do whatever he wanted, right now. Xander tried to clear his head, but it wasn't working very well. "Um... would you wear the Mickey Mouse ears?"

"Yeah. Not Pluto, though. Don't like those flappy Pluto ears. No Minnie ears, but we could bring 'em back for Princess." There was a pause while Spike licked Xander's cheek. "And poof. Think Wes and Gunn would want Mickey or someone else's ears?"

But Xander was still seeing Spike in Mickey Mouse ears. And nothing else. "Uh...um. Possibly. What was the question?"

"We going to the one here, and if so, how are we gonna stay in the park all night so no pile of ashes on the plane home, or is there someplace else we're going? And I can't reach your neck properly."

"What?" Xander had pretty much missed everything but the last part. He rolled closer and lifted his head so Spike could do whatever it was Spike wanted to do with his neck, and tried to decipher the rest. "No, not the one here, promised at least eight hours away. The Euro one has a hotel on the grounds, and it's open late. I'll...put it in the maybe pile." Except the maybe pile had been demolished, so Xander stuck it down the front of his jeans. That was a pretty safe place, at least for a few minutes.

Few seconds. Spike's hand went after the brochure and pulled it out. "Who's a bad brochure?" he asked it. "Reckon one of 'em can find a nice dimension where Disney World is open at night? Or," and he paused to nibble, "Should we just make them buy the park for a week and make 'em stay open?"

Xander was busy reacting to the aftereffects of Spike's hand, but he managed a "N...No. Um..." After a few more seconds, "Um. Buying the park would cost more than David has. Might ask about the dimension thing. Or... What about...um..." He couldn't think properly with Spike's hand where it was now.

"What about what?" Spike asked, and it was his Evil Spike voice. Because Spike was doing things with his hand, and with his tongue, and the tips of his fangs. And he knew Xander couldn't answer questions under these conditions, except possibly 'Do you want your jeans off?'

"Yes." Oh. Shit. Spike hadn't actually asked that question. Um... "Um..." Xander tried to make his brain-muscles work, when every other muscle in his body wanted to take over. "What about Transylvania?"

"They have roller coasters?" Spike asked, sounding like an eight-year old. Not wet, no lolly -- yet, but once Xander's jeans came off -- but otherwise, eight.

"Um..." Yes, that was his word-of-the-day. He'd been living with this man for how long, and a few well-placed licks and nibbles and strokes, and he was reduced to "Um." This didn't bode well for a captain of industry, even when his particular industry catered to horny demons. As did he, at the moment. "No. Well, maybe. But they have all kinds of vamp history. Dracula's supposed to be from there, right?"

There was a snerk in his ear. "Yeah, if you believe the press releases. D'you mean in this dimension? Or is there someplace where Transylvania is the name of a pleasure planet?" Spike bit his ear, and sucked.

"Uhhh...maybe, if you believe the Rocky Horror Picture Show." Xander giggled suddenly. "Oh God. Did I tell you about Giles?"

"Mmm?" Spike let go of Xander's ear. "You know something good about Giles? Rocky Horror...wait, don't tell me. He dressed up as Janet?"

Xander couldn't help it. he tittered. "Oh no. Worse. He played Frank. On stage." There was no responding laughter. Xander looked over to find Spike merely looking slightly puzzled. "What? And why did you let go of my ear?"

"What's wrong with playing Frank? It's a good part. An' he's got the legs for it. Ow! All right, not that I've ever looked." Pout number twelve.

Xander stared at him. "What's wrong is that it was Giles. In high heels, a corset, and fishnet stockings."

"Yeah? Bet he was--- oh. Oh." There was a short silence. Then he was tittering. "Oh, bloody hell. Please, if you love me, tell me you have pictures...."

"I love you. And Wesley has pictures. Which he promised me copies of."

"Oo! What do we owe him?" Spike bounced a little, which made Xander feel very happy. Made him want to make Spike bounce, more, just like that. With his hand right there....

"Ah.. that would be me taking you away for two weeks." Hence the honeymoon brochures spread all over the floor that were about to be completely ruined. Xander smiled, doing his best to convey 'Please don't hurt me in any way you're not already doing right now this minute.'

But Spike was sitting up -- moving away from him. Hey! "Why didn't you say so?" Spike shoved Xander onto his side, which was promising, until Spike just pawed through the brochures. "Here. This one. Go away for two weeks, come back rested and pale." Spike held the brochure out, not seeming to realize he was holding Xander propped up, with a hand on Xander's buttock. Xander squirmed a bit, and Spike squeezed, so maybe he realized, after all.

Xander looked at the brochure-- it was the one for Oz. "Yeah, sounds good, put it down, shag me now." Then he noticed the asterisk on the front. "Wait, turn that over." Or turn me over, or something. Spike obliged by doing both, and Xander was lying on his stomach again. Looking at the back of the brochure. "Oh, shit. No, definitely no."

"Er? What now?" Spike grabbed the brochure out of Xander's hands and read it. Read it again. Read it apparently a third time, sounding out the words -- Xander watched his mouth move, and could clearly lip-read the small print on the brochure. "This reality is rated G. No adult activities of any kind. Thank you." Spike looked up at him. "Who gave us this one?" he growled.

Xander shrugged. Probably Buffy, but who could be sure? "Not a clue." Or had it been Ethan? No, Ethan had only handed him one brochure and that was for a place that even Spike would be afraid to go into.

"Ah. Well, remind me to snarl at all of 'em, later." He quickly looked over the brochures, again, but this time his hands stayed on Xander. Strayed on Xander, actually. Xander considered protesting that Spike's attention didn't seem to be wholly on his task -- but decided Spike might just let go of him, to search through the brochures. And he'd been the one thinking he wanted to study them, rather than have sex? Spike froze, slightly, then reached over and picked up a brochure.

"If we went to Knott's Berry Farm, I could smear jam all over you," Xander said off the top of his head, waiting for Spike to show him the flyer.

"Not far enough away, remember. Look at this." It had a picture of a woman in nineteenth century clothing on the front, and it read 'Victoria ad infinitum.' Xander raised one eyebrow, and Spike opened the tri-fold page. "Come to a world where the sun never set on the British Empire. Where Oscar Wilde is still publishing new works of literature, and Her Majesty reigns in her second century of glorious undeath." Spike's finger moved to one of the smaller pictures, depicting a street of homes. They looked...old and English, was all Xander could think of to describe them. Intriguing, though. "I grew up in a house like this one."

Xander nodded, not sure whether to ask further, or let Spike wander. He didn't talk about his human life, much, and Xander didn't want to push him into clamming up.

"Don't reckon I can take you home to meet my parents, but maybe I can at least show you the sorts of places I used to go." Spike's voice was rather subdued, as if doing so might not be as pleasant a memory as it should have been. But he was looking at the photos with an expression Xander recognized. Xander leaned over and kissed Spike on the temple. Spike wrinkled his nose at him, smiling. "Better warn you bout the ale, though...."

Xander grinned. "I've got that anti-intoxication charm Wesley made for me." Not that it was working very well at the moment. He smiled back at Spike, and nodded. "Okay. We'll go to Vamps-Rule-Victorian-England World. But you'll have to protect me."

Spike moved in, until he was a mere breath's space away. Deep, earth-swallowing blue eyes stared at him. A finger touched Xander's cheek, traced a long, slow line down. "Always." Spike kissed him. Xander whimpered. Then the finger and lips and knee left, and Spike asked, "Can we stop at Disney World on the way back?"

Xander whimpered again, louder. "Yes. Disney World. Or maybe on the way there. I wanna see you in Victorian clothes and Mickey Mouse ears." And come back here, dammit. Then he opened his eyes wide. "Spike?"

"What? And we can do that now, you know. Live in L.A. - there's Disney shops and costume places everywhere."

"Yeah, but I want the Victorian vampire people to see you too. Um, Spike?"

"Fine. Do we need three weeks, then? What can we make Wes give us?" Spike started to grin. "And the rest of 'em - you wanna blackmail them, or should I?"

Xander shook his head. "Don't care. You do it. You'll have more fun anyway. Or... Spike, will you...umm" He reached out and touched Spike's hair, looking. Just looking.

"Will I what?" Spike asked, gently. Leaned closer to kiss him. Didn't, yet. Just held himself almost close enough to.

"Will you grow your hair out? Just for the honeymoon. Just, y'know, so you'll fit in." And so he could run his fingers through it, and so he could finally see what Spike's natural color was, if it didn't match his eyebrows or the rest of his hair. Mostly the finger-running-through, though.

Spike raised an eyebrow at him. "Grow my hair out? Yeah, if you want me to." And he finally kissed him. Nibbled a bit. "Not bleached, too?"

Xander smiled. "Please?" As in 'Please grow your hair out unbleached, please kiss me some more, please do any damn thing you want with me...'

"Right, then, now that all that is settled," Spike whispered as he moved along Xander's neck, almost-not-quite touching, though Xander could feel him, anyway. He shivered, not moving, so as not to make Spike touch him before he was ready to stop torturing him. Finally, a lick, right at the base of the back of his neck. Then, "Er, Xan?" It was the 'I'm cute you love me you don't want to slay me' voice.

"Ye-esssss?" Which was the 'you're cute, I love you, don't make me slay you before you shag me' voice.

"When 'sactly is the wedding?"

Was that all? "I don't know. Ask Cordelia. Later." A pause, then Spike's tongue was right back where it belonged, and Xander was squirming, wondering if he'd survive until the wedding, anyway.

Then Spike's tongue was gone again, and Xander was considering vampire-slayage. "Is that 'it's later, don't know when, go ask Cordelia', or 'don't know, ask Cordelia later, right now shag me'?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Spike looked at him for a second. "Well, I suppose I could...." Spike moved away from him, sliding a bit on the brochures. Before Xander could yell at him that he was about to forego sex for a month if he even got near the door, Spike stopped. His face was right next to Xander's groin. Then there was a zipping sound and a yelp from someone whose warm happy gonads were suddenly exposed to the cold air -- followed by a second yelp when said 'nads were engulfed.