Wild Things
by James Walkwithwind and Mad Poetess

"You want this a little tighter, maybe?" Xander asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Spike returned his raised eyebrow, and raised him another. "Tighter? Bloody hell, Xan, if I didn't have to breathe just so I could say 'take off your jeans now', I wouldn't care."

Xander shrugged, and loosened Spike's cummerbund. "Just thought I'd show off that fine, toned, 'I died after not eating well for three weeks' waist of yours. Anyway, the design looks good, even if nobody's decided on a color scheme yet."

Spike glanced down, and said, "If you want to show me off, lemme take the shirt off." Which was getting them one step closer to swimsuits or naked, which is what he still really wanted. If everyone was staring at their goolies, they wouldn't notice if any big, bad scourges of Chinas and subway stations were nervous.

Xander slipped a finger into the elastic waistband of the cummerbund, and snapped it against Spike's back. He also gave Spike an appraising stare. "Hmm. Yeah, I could see you in just the pants and the tie and the cummerbund. In fact, I could see you like that tonight, if you want. We'll just buy these, and if it's not the color somebody finally settles on, they're pretty cheap anyway." Spike saw no reason for waiting. He pulled the shirt free and began unbuttoning it, leaving the cummerbund and tie in place. After all, if Xander was going to cause delicious sharp tingling sensations in his back.... Did the guy just never remember that pain was foreplay? Like caressing and kissing and eating and being awake? "Spike!" Xander put warm hands on his, stopping him. "What did we say about undressing in the middle of retail stores?"

"Um," he stopped and tried to remember. Honestly tried, for two seconds. "Not unless the security cameras are on?" He'd made off with half a dozen tapes so far, which he intended on splicing together and giving to Ann, the production manager of Scooby, Inc.'s films department.

Xander whapped him on the head, which really didn't do anything to take his mind off the foreplay issue. "That would be a no, except at Morrie's, and certain other places with whom I have an arrangement. Gingiss Formalwear is not one of those places, so no stripping off except in the changing rooms, capice?" He said the last bit in a Marlon-Brando-as-the-Godfather voice. Oo! Roleplaying! What fun!

"But I was only takin' off my shirt," he said, trying to decide if he wanted to be the moll, or the lieutenant. Realized it'd pretty much have to be moll, since Xander was buying him clothes. Er, and marrying him. Too bad he didn't have any bubble gum. He liked having props when he role-played. "So if you're buying these anyway, what about buyin' me one of those, as well?" He nodded towards the tuxedo jackets with tails. He'd always wanted to know what he looked like in tails.

Xander shrugged. "Well, you can try it on, anyway. I think Cordy and Joyce and Willow are still arguing via computer over whether it's tails, morning suits, or dinner jackets." Xander pulled one off the hanger and held it out to him. "Here, try this on, baby. Daddy'll buy you whatever your little heart desires. As long as it doesn't set things on fire or make them go boom."

Spike had started to look gleefully excited until Xander reached the last bit. Then he pouted, even as he handed Xander the shirt he'd managed to slip out of anyway, and accepted the jacket. "Whatdya mean, doesn't set things on fire or make them go boom?" He jutted his chin out. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Xander sighed over the shirt, then helped Spike fit the jacket around his shoulders. "It's too big for you. Even with the shirt it would be too big." He stood on tiptoe, and kissed Spike on the top of the head. "Yes, I love you, and no, you can't blow anything up for at least two more weeks. You're grounded, remember?"

He pouted harder. "I didn't *mean* to." And he hadn't, really. Was it his fault the stupid things were flammable? Had been, rather? He wished he could see himself in the mirror. "Is it really too big? Can we get a smaller one? If they don't have my size, can I eat the shop owner?"

"I know you didn't, but you were told not to play with matches near the nitroglycerin jars. Yes, it's too big. Yes, we can get a smaller one. No, you can't eat the owner, it's a national chain, and I think David just bought it." Xander pulled the jacket from Spike's shoulders, gave his bare chest a glazed-donut look for a moment, then shook his head, handing Spike another jacket.

Spike accidentally stretched a bit as he moved to try on the second jacket. "Does that mean I have to ask Nabbit first, if I can eat the manager?" He decided he liked this jacket. Silk lining, sliding over his skin. He never felt like it was odd that he had no body heat, when he wore silk. He ran his hands down the front of the jacket, and posed. "How do I look?"

"Like you need to be in the changing room." Xander's eyes had moved on from glazed-donut to devil's food cake with chocolate pudding inside. "Spike, do you understand now why there will be *no* naked wedding?" His hands were on Spike's chest, and Spike was having a hard time understanding anything, really.

"Um, no?" Seeing as how he was almost fully dressed, and already Xander was salivating over him, he didn't see how being naked would be any worse.

"See? I knew it. We left them alone, and *now* we gotta get a fire hose." Spike nodded happily at Gunn, who groaned. "No, I take it back, they'd like it too much."

Well, sure. Wet silk, wet Xander, wet Spike. What was wrong with the equation? Aside from the presence of Princess, Sire, Wesley, and Sire's-Grumpy-Other-Lover-Who-Needed-To-Take-The-Battleaxe-Out-Of-His-Arse. Actually, Spike wouldn't have minded their presence-- they could watch all they liked. But they never seemed to agree with him on that issue, and it always led to high-pitched squeaking that hurt his ears, and him getting picked up by his shirt collar. Course, he wasn't currently wearing a shirt, so...

He reached for Xander, and Cordelia slapped his hand. "Behave! You're supposed to be trying on jackets, not playing Dead British Chippendale." Although she had a tiny bit of glazing in her eyes too, and Spike preened.

"M'behaving!" he protested, just by sheer reflex. "Nothing burnt down, is it?" Other than a few brain cells, and who needed those anyway?

"I told you we should have done this separately," Wesley commented. "Even if they're charging us for staying open late which we wouldn't *have* to do if someone would just behave for the half an hour it should have taken us to get him fitted." Wesley was starting pointedly at him. Spike looked behind himself, bewildered.

Xander came to his rescue, wonderful white-knight that he was. Today, at least. "Well, if somebody would decide on a jacket style, it might be a bit easier." They'd managed to talk Cordelia out of either salmon or teal for colors, but it had been made plain to them that they might as well not bother trying to control whatever else they were wearing. Or anything at all about the wedding.

Spike stuck his tongue out at Princess. Then he ducked behind Xander. "I told you we shoulda gone for the swim-- ow!" He rubbed his head.

"Be nice, or you'll get more of that." Cordelia smiled smugly. Xander did absolutely nothing to defend him. In fact, he snickered, and ducked behind *Spike*. Some white-knight! Didn't he understand that whapping him was foreplay, and Cordelia had just intruded on Xander's territory?

"No swimsuits," Gunn growled. Spike still thought he'd really make a good vampire, but he seemed to have some kind of problem with the suggestion every time Spike brought it up.

The vampire one, not the swimsuits one, although he had a problem with that one too. Wesley raised an eyebrow at Gunn, though. "No swimsuits?"

Gunn sighed. "It's not about you and the striped speedos, Wes. Hell, you can wear 'em if you want, but do you really *want* to see these two get married in *their* idea of swimsuits?"

Wesley turned and gave Spike and Xander an appraising look. Angel and Gunn both growled softly -- but Spike could hear the tone of those growls. They weren't 'we own you, you can't do it.' They were 'please don't make us beg in public.' Spike chortled.

"Actually, I like the idea of a pool-side wedding. In swimsuits. It would be new, and different -- it will set a whole trend in celebrity weddings, and we'd be the first!" Spike looked at Cordelia with some surprise. He hadn't thought *she'd* go for it, else he'd have mentioned it to her before now. Often. Showed her Wes' swimsuit, which he'd found underneath the sofa, when he'd been a newt crawling around in his Sire's quarters.

"Cordelia," Angel began, and Spike knew *that* tone of voice, too. Spike took a step backwards, so he could watch. Incidentally got himself plastered up against Xander, but oh well. He'd have to learn to unlive with that.

"What, Mister Growly-Face? You don't wanna show off your lack of a tan? Hey, pale is in. It's healthy."

"I thought we agreed on formalwear?"

She sneered. "Oh, you just wanna wear a tux because you think you look hot in them."

Wesley leaped to his defense. "He does!" Spike nudged Xander. See, that's how you're supposed to treat your lover. Fiancés, too. Not let Miss Pretty-Pretty whap them on the head, even if it did send little shivery feelings down their spine, no matter who did it. Xander just gave him a look like he didn't know what Spike wasn't saying to him, and went back to watching Cordelia and Angel. Spike wished he had some popcorn. He did reach back and find Xander's arms, and wrapped them around his waist.

"You look hot in a swimsuit, too," Wesley was saying to Angel, which got him growled at again.

"You're not helping! Do you *want* to wear a swimsuit to their wedding?" Angel asked him.

Wesley sniffed. "I might do. Is there something *wrong* with me wearing a swimsuit in public?"

Angel groaned. Gunn groaned. Xander giggled in Spike's ear, which tickled. "It ain't *you* we don't wanna see in a swimsuit in public," Gunn said, as he'd said at least half a dozen times that Spike had overheard. Wesley had told him they'd said it a bit more often in private. "But I don't wanna see *them* in their swimsuits, which they don't own any besides their skin if you've forgotten, and I don't wanna have to watch everybody in the wedding party salivating over you in *your* swimsuit."

"We could make him wear the cargo shorts," Angel interjected.

Cordelia cried out, and everyone took a half-step towards her before realizing it wasn't a vision. "We could! Oh, we could do it!" She started looking around at the various jackets, with an intent expression on her face. Spike thought she looked like a vampire on the hunt -- but every time he thought about saying that to her, he remembered just how hard she could hit when she was *pissed*. And it wasn't that he didn't *like* being hit that hard, it was that Xander *growled* when she did it. Which turned him on even more, and then Xander would whap him for trying to maul him in public, which was also fine, but it wouldn't end in shagging. It almost never did.

"What could we do?" Xander asked, sounding a little frightened. Great. If Xander was scared, they could all just run for the hills right now. Xander wasn't scared of anything, anymore. Spike thought about growling at Princess, just a bit, but there again was the whole being hit problem. Though he did need an excuse to grab Xander and run. Or did he have one, already, and needed...um.... He couldn't remember. All he did know was that he'd been interrupted in his Mafia moll game, as well as his 'bet I can't make you shag me in the middle of the store', which wasn't so much a game as it was hopeful thinking.

"We can!" Cordelia was saying. "Hm, it might have to be dinner jackets...I'm not sure tails would work, unless the tails were *short*, and... I'm going to need someone to model the different jackets."

"Anybody know what she's on about?" Spike asked.

It was Wesley who answered. "Are we *really* going to -- are you thinking swim trunks, or bikinis? It will affect which jacket looks best."

Xander nestled his chin on Spike's shoulder. "You mean you want us to wear tux jackets and swimsuit bottoms?" It was *not* Spike's fault that his brain really only heard the word 'bottoms'. Xander had broken it with too many whaps on the head. He tugged on Xander's sleeve, and Xander repeated the question for him. "I think she's saying she's gonna," Xander lowered his voice to a whisper, "compromise."

"Bottoms?" Spike asked, not really listening. Although 'compromise' might mean they *could* go find the dressing rooms. Cordelia and Wesley were still talking, though, he could hear their voices. Didn't care what they were saying until Angel and Gunn both yelled 'No!' Startled, Spike turned to give them his best 'you're interrupting my about to be shagged' glare.

Wesley was glaring at his lovers. "Well, if I thought either of you two were wearing underwear, I'd suggest you model for her."

Xander raised his hand. "I'm wearing underwear. So's Spike, actually." They all turned to look at Spike, who turned his head to glare at his lover. Nobody was supposed to know that. Bad enough he'd been cajoled into wearing boxers today, now the whole world had to hear about it?

Cordelia tilted her head. "Well, I guess it *would* make sense for the grooms to model..."

Angel and Gunn were still glaring slightly at Wesley, who gave Spike a suspicious look. "You're wearing underwear?" Spike gave him a fierce glare, which got him counter-glared at by Angel and Gunn, big surprise there.

"So, you two can model for us. A dinner jacket, and tails. Perfect!" Cordelia said.

"No. Xander can model." Spike frowned at her, daring her to say otherwise.

Xander whapped him, more or less gently. "Spike can model too. I wanna see him in the dinner jacket." Xander responded to Spike's growl by pinching his arse. Talk about mixed signals-- was that 'go on, you're turning me on,' or 'stop that, bad little vampire'?

"I'm not modeling in my underwear. If you wanna see me in a dinner jacket, I'll wear the jacket." And only the jacket. Didn't Xander *remember* which boxers he'd made Spike wear today?

Xander kissed him on the top of the head again. Bugger *had* to be standing on tiptoe, or a box-- he wasn't that much taller than Spike. "Love you, pookie-butt...."

Spike groaned.

Cordelia giggled. "Pookie-butt?" He tried the death glare on her, and she only grinned wider. "OK, now I *know* I want you to model." She was holding out a jacket to Xander. "Come on! Dressing rooms, guys!" Spike was about to protest again, when he realized she'd just ordered them exactly where he wanted to go. He grabbed the jacket, took Xander's hand, and hurried towards the dressing rooms. Maybe he could make Xander forget all about Spike walking out of the dressing rooms in his underwear. Then Cordelia grabbed him and shoved him into a *separate* dressing room from Xander. "Here," she said, handing him a black dinner-jacket through the curtain. Pretending she wasn't peeking.

"Oi! What's this?"

"It's a jacket, Spike," she replied, only sounding a little annoyed. Spike whimpered. He could hear Xander undressing in the room next to his. Hear the clothes sliding off his body...hear his hands running along his skin. He closed his eyes and leant against the wall. Would Xander shag him, if he tore down the wall to get to him? Possibly not.

"Spike, I don't hear you taking off your clothes," Xander said warningly. There was a corresponding tapping of a high-heeled shoe on the floor outside.

"If you don't hurry up, I'm gonna come in there and *help* you, Spike," Cordelia threatened. "And I promise, you won't enjoy it." He'd started to remove his trousers, and stopped. Have Cordelia undress him? How could he possibly not enjoy that? Then his imagination kicked in. Mostly it showed him ways in which Xander didn't have sex with him for days and days. Spike slipped out of the dress pants, and looked mournfully down at his boxers. Maybe he could slip them off, and go out and find something else. Silk, maybe.

"Spike, if you walk out of there naked, you're showering alone for a week," Xander warned.

"Bugger."

"None of that either," Xander said.

Spike rolled his eyes, and asked himself just exactly how he'd gotten so hen-pecked. He was evil, right? So he ought to be able to do evil things, like walk around without anything on except a dinner jacket. Then he heard Xander stepping out of his dressing room, and heard Cordelia's appreciative gasp. He jerked the curtain out of his way and stepped out to glare at her and get an eyeful of his -- *his* -- Xander.

Black briefs covering, well, not much. No, quite a lot, but not much of it was covered. White formal shirt that had to be tucked into the red silk cummerbund, because it certainly wasn't impeding the view below it, and a red bow-tie. All topped off with Fred-Astaire tails. Xander grinned at Spike, and gently reached over to push his gaping jaw back into place. "You like?"

Spike couldn't answer. Couldn't even be sure he knew English anymore, and Fyarl didn't have the words for this. Fyarl demons didn't wear cummerbunds, or underwear. Spike wasn't able to make his brain think about anything else.

"I like," Cordelia was saying, and Spike whirled at her and growled. She stuck her tongue out at him, which made him realize he'd gone into full vamp face at her. He growled again, anyway.

She put her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down, from head to toe. He could see it in her eyes. The hair-- getting a little shaggy around the ears, since Xander wanted him to grow it out for the honeymoon. The black bow-tie. The no-shirt, and he grinned when she went a little glazey, but Princess was long used to ignoring him naked, and she moved past it. The dinner jacket, and she made a little twist of her lips. A hmm-maybe twist. Then... "Snerk... snort... schhzz... Heeheeheeheeheehee Oh God, Angel, Gunn, Wes, you have to see this!"

Spike's brain suddenly kicked back into gear, and he leapt backwards, back into the dressing room. He yanked the curtain closed, and held it in place. Why, today of all days, had he let Xander do the puppy-dog eyes thing at him and make him wear underwear? *These* underwear?

There was the sound of footsteps, and then Angel's voice. "What?" A pause. "Oh. Yes, not bad, Xander." Spike growled loudly. "Shut up, Spike. I think two lovers is enough without trying to add yours to my nest."

Wesley, a little amused. "Nest?"

Cordelia stamped her foot for attention. "Yes, boys, we all know Xander's yummy and Spike's horny and insane. That's not what I wanted to show you." There was a tugging at the curtain that Spike was holding closed so tightly. "Come on out of there, 'Pookie-Butt' !"

Spike growled again, and held the curtain tightly.

"Nest?" Gunn was saying. "Since when the fuck was it *his* nest?" Spike began eyeing the dressing room for possible escape routes.

Angel sighed, low and dear-god-help-me. Spike knew it well, from long ago. "I just meant, since I'm the vampire, and we have nests... Don't get all huffy, Gunn."

Cordelia leaned close to the curtain, and whispered throatily, as if she were trying to seduce Spike. "Spii-ike...."

There had to be a catch. "Eh? What?"

"If you come out now, I won't tell Angel about the lobsters..."

"What lobsters?" Angel asked. Yeah, and Princess had just *conveniently* forgotten about vampires being able to hear even when being pouted at by his lovers.

Spike growled. "Not coming out. Ever. Sod off!"

There was some movement outside, and Spike tightened his grip on the curtain. Then he heard, "Oh, here, this will get him out," from Wesley.

A pause, then Xander yelped and said, "Hey! Watch the fingers."

Spike was outside and holding onto Wesley's hand -- which was still near the butt he'd pinched. The briefs-covered-belongs-to-Spike butt.

"Let him go, Spike," Angel said. Then he laughed. Spike stood as tall as possible, which still wasn't very tall compared to his six-foot-whatever Sire and glared. Angel didn't stop laughing, and Wesley started. So did Gunn. Xander was kind enough not to laugh, but then he'd known Spike was wearing the boxers in the first place. Hell, he'd bought them. Besides, he was too busy rubbing his arse. Spike would give him something to rub his arse about-- just wait until they got home!

Gunn started humming. Well, singing, really. If it was humming, you couldn't hear the words. "Scooby-dooby-doo, where are you...."

Spike dropped Wesley's hand, because threatening anybody when they were that busy laughing wasn't any fun. He gave everyone in the store a scowl, including the shopkeeper, and turned to Xander. Someone was going to get a hell of a spanking to make up for this. How the hell was he supposed to be evil with people thinking of him wearing Scooby-Doo underwear? Xander just gave him that look. The 'you're so cute I could eat you up' look. The one that made him forget all about being evil and start looking for body parts to lick, or offering body parts for licking.

He offered his hand, since that was the nearest thing to Xander, and Xander dutifully licked it. Spike moved a little closer, and offered his neck.

"Excuse me! This is *not* modeling wedding attire!" Gunn's annoying voice tried to impinge on Spike's awareness. He batted it away like he would...well, anything. He heard another muttering, this time recognised it as Angel -- ignored it, too. When Angel's fingers closed on the back of his bow-tie and lifted him about an inch off the ground, he found it a bit harder to ignore his Sire. He gave it a damn good effort, but no. Not that he needed to breathe, but that tie was pinching his neck.

"Grrr. What?" Then Xander retracted his tongue, which had been just about to give Spike's throat a good licking, and Spike *really* growled.

"Later. First we let Cordelia make a decision so we can get out of here." Angel growled back at Spike, that deep almost-not-there back of the throat growl that used to make Spike think he *really* ought to do as he was told. With Xander around to defend him...or help distract Angel, actually, he didn't give it more than a second thought.

"What's stoppin' her?" he demanded. "We're in our monkey suits, she can look all she likes."

"Okay, stand side by side, you two." When Spike gleefully complied by scrunching up as close to Xander as possible, Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Without touching or in any way doing even PG-13 rated sex stuff, thank you." Xander shrugged as if to say 'what can you do?' but he did manage to pinch Spike's arse before moving away. "I saw that!" Cordelia said, staring at them pointedly. She walked around each of them. "Tails and briefs, tails and trunks? Dinner jackets and briefs, dinner jackets and trunks? Shirt or no shirt?" she asked aloud, obviously requesting Spike's opinion.

"No shirt. Briefs. Just briefs, actually--" He stopped as he realized she was looking at him in a way that often presaged being Xanderless for hours. Princess had discovered a nasty way of punishing Spike - she guilted Xander into running errands with her. Just Xander, with Cordelia.

But Xander, for some reason, decided to be helpful. He removed his jacket and shirt, and handed them to Spike. "Give me your jacket," he said. Spike just stood there and looked at Xander wearing only his briefs. What was the question? Just to prove that he could do it, he let his gaze wander up, over Xander's stomach, which really needed slurping, to his chest, and finally neck, which also needed slurping. And was covered with a bow-tie. Fine, not just briefs, but he could work with that. Xander in briefs and bow-tie.

"Jacket, Spike," Cordelia said. "Give Xander your jacket." Give Xander his what? Cordelia huffed, and pulled it from his shoulders, while he smiled in a way that he was sure looked completely intelligent.

When she handed it to Xander, he protested. "Hey! Don't give him that, he'll be dressed! Er, more dressed." He tried to pull the jacket away from Xander and got whapped for his trouble. Then he was being pulled backwards by someone who smelled a lot like Angel, and Xander's shirt was being pulled up Spike's arms.

"Gerrof! What are you doing?"

Wesley sighed. "Trying to get us out of here so you can do your licking and the rest of us can go do whatever *we* would prefer to be doing." That *sounded* logical, but Spike was sure there was something wrong with the idea, somewhere. What was it?

"Why can't we lick now *and* later?" Xander asked. Oh yes, that was it.

"Because it's difficult to lick someone when your tongue is inserted in your left nostril and pulled so hard it comes out the right one," Wesley explained.

While Spike tried to picture this and decided it fell into the small category of pain that didn't count as foreplay, Cordelia tugged on Angel's sleeve. "I'm thinking maybe pants for the actual walk down the aisle, or into the poolroom, or something? And then they rip away to show the trunks? Or briefs?"

"I think if you let them start tearing their clothes off, they might not stop at just the trousers," Angel replied.

Spike perked up. "We can take off our clothes?"

"See?" Spike found himself being yanked back away from Xander again, and wondered if this mightn't count as an evil enough thing that he could turn around and bite whoever was back there.

"Ow! Ow, ow, dammit!" It was not *even* fair that Witchywillow had tuned his chip to go off if he even *thought* about biting anybody in the immediate family except for Xander. No spankings for her, Spike reminded himself. Not even for Chanukkha. Unless she was really good.

Cordelia groaned. "I see your point. Maybe just for the formal pictures, right after the ceremony?"

Gunn chuckled. "You think you're gonna get them to put clothes *on* after they get hitched?"

Wesley spoke from behind Spike. "I'm thinking perhaps we should just feed them enough Haitian zombie powder to last for the entire ceremony, and let them wake up in time for the honeymoon. Preferably after they're already on the plane."

"Oo! Do you have some?" Cordelia asked. "And if so, why haven't you ever offered any before now?"

"Well, because technically the zombification process would only work on Xander, as he's still alive." Wesley began speaking in his usual lecturer's tone. "The poison used to induce death--"

Spike really liked the fact that he could sometimes ignore the brain-splitting pain in his skull. Couldn't so much ignore Angel and Gunn, peeling his hand off Wes' throat and hauling him back off the man. Spike only stopped growling when Angel threw him onto the floor and Xander sat on Spike's stomach.

"Fake death?" Xander said. "Don't you ever read Wade Davis?" Spike blinked. Did he care, now that Xander was sitting on him?

"That rainbow snake guy?" Gunn asked. "Man, that was one creepy movie." Oh, yeah. That was a good one, with all the hallucinations, and the mud and blood. Had Xander sitting in his lap and whispering 'eew' into his shoulder when they'd rented the video a few years ago. Spike smiled happily up at Xander, hoping for a little repeat performance of the shoulder-whispering. And/or the lap-sitting.

"Okay, short-attention-span boy is under control, you can get up, Xander," Cordelia ordered.

Xander didn't move. "She said you can get up now," Spike said, leering at the bit of Xander he was trying to get up. Xander wriggled.

"Xander?" Cordelia asked. "God, why do I even try? OK, I've seen enough, I can decide--" There were five cheers, and Spike yanked Xander down to lie on top of him. A strong hand yanked Xander back up, and Spike looked up into not-amused hazel eyes. "I *said* I've seen enough, William Abelard Jones." Cordelia pushed Xander out of the way and yanked Spike up by the front of his bow-tie. "Are we clear?"

Spike blinked. When the bloody hell did she hear about 'Abelard'? He glared at Wesley and Gunn, who were both snickering. Then he glared at Princess again, and pulled Xander back towards him. "Mine!" He bit Xander's arm, to prove it. Not that he drew blood, more like just holding onto the arm with his teeth. But just let anyone try to take him away, now....

Xander whapped him with the other arm. "Spike, middle names mean Cordelia is serious. What does it mean when Cordelia is serious?"

"Er..." He had to let go of Xander's arm in order to answer. "No sex?"

Xander blinked at him. "Um, yeah. My God, you remembered something!"

Well, sure, if it involved no sex. He'd rather deal with splitting headaches, wanky in-laws, annoying ex-girlfriends, endearing ex-girlfriends, and the telly being stuck on the PTL network all in the same day, than suffer from no sex. "S'not Abelard," he mumbled, but no one appeared to be taking him seriously. It was probably the shorts. That, in fact, was possibly a good reason to get up off the floor and wrestle Xander into the dressing room. Or, hang about, why get up first? He'd grabbed onto Xander's arms before realizing that might also lead to Princess-induced no-sex. He sighed.

Xander pulled him up. "Come on, Spike. If you'll be good I'll..." and he leaned over and whispered something in Spike's ear. It couldn't possibly have been what Spike thought he heard. Angel's eyebrows rose, though, so maybe it was.

Spike blinked, and put his hands down at his sides, smiling at Cordelia. "Right, what d'you want me to do?"

Gunn's mouth dropped open. "Xander, what did you promise him? It works that fast, I gotta know!"

Xander just gave Gunn a smile, and quirked an eyebrow at Angel. Angel just kept looking somewhat surprised, though he did, after a moment, nod. Spike scrambled to his feet, helping Xander up, and stood there in front of Cordelia, not doing anything even remotely rated PG or above. Except for a couple of thoughts which he quite carefully did not act on. Yet. Gunn and now Wesley were both glaring at Angel. Who smiled mysteriously, which for some reason made Wesley pout. Possibly because it was either mysterious smile Number 11 or 12.5, if Spike read it correctly, and only Wesley was supposed to know how to do it.

"Spike, take off your shirt." Spike stared at Cordelia, who nodded encouragingly. Well, if she said so. He skinned off the jacket and the shirt that Angel had pulled over his head, and stood in his Scooby-Doo boxers, silk cummerbund, and bow-tie. "Now, put on this jacket." She held out the jacket Xander had been wearing. He dutifully put it on, not smirking at the expressions on Gunn and Wesley's faces. "Xander, you stand next to him." Cordelia didn't even have to tell them to keep their hands off each other. She looked at them both, frowning slightly. "Switch jackets." They did so. "Stand on one foot." Looking at each other, they shrugged, and complied. She nodded. "Okay, stand on both feet, and put one hand on your hip. Like a GQ model." Or a sales assistant at Grace Brothers Department Store, Spike thought, but did as he was told. So did Xander.

"Ok, hold the other hand out. Like this." She demonstrated, and Spike blinked, but copied her. "Now sing 'I'm a little teapot, short and---" Spike growled at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Wesley, Gunn and Angel were all tittering, though Wesley was trying to look sternly at her. Traitorous ponce. See if he got any of the Scrumpy Jack that Spike had just ordered online. "Well, how often do I get the chance?" Cordelia asked, plainly not remotely sorry. Spike just growled again, but didn't actually do anything that might look like it wasn't sorta behaving. "All right, I think I've got it," she said with a decisive nod. "Oh, one thing, Xander?"

"Yeah?"

She walked over and hit him on the arm. "Why the hell didn't you make him behave an hour ago?"

Small growl. Just a little no-hitting-my-Xander growl, and she wouldn't condemn Spike to no sex for that. They understood each other. Spike knew she wouldn't ever really hurt Xander, and she knew Spike actually worshipped the two hundred dollar shoes she walked on, and everything was roses. Unless it involved her getting between him and sex, but how often did that happen? Er, not counting today. And most other days.

"Okay. Trunks."

Gunn nodded at Cordelia, then pointed a finger at Spike's lower regions. Why, what was wrong with them? Spike looked down, just to check. Nope, all there, present and accounted for. "Not Scooby Doo trunks?"

Cordelia shook her head. "No. Well, maybe for Spike, if he doesn't behave. Otherwise, black trunks. And tails."

Spike took a look at Xander's. Tail, that is. "Easier to see 'em in briefs," he pointed out helpfully. He didn't even blink when someone -- possibly Cordelia, from the way it stung -- whapped him in the head. He was thinking about shaving his hair like the black blokes did, leaving a bull's-eye target shaved in. Xander was grinning at him, though, and turned slightly to waggle his tail. Spike grinned back, and reached for it. And got whapped again.

"Whatever Xander said, it won't happen if you grope him while I'm watching," Cordelia warned.

"Yeah, but if I grope him while you're watching, I'll get to have sex with him." Spike thought this was perfectly logical. Then he saw Xander making puppy-eyes at him and remembered what Xander had promised to do. Oh well. Sex, he could have any time. Most of the time. He was working on some way to make it all of the time, but Xander would still have to eat, breathe, and do nasty biological things, until he got turned. Nasty biological things like working for a living, for instance. What Xander had promised him was a rare occurrence, and sex could wait. At least until about five minutes later. "Right, fine. Trunks an' tails and puppy-dog snails," Spike said. "S'that it?"

There was a sigh, as if Cordelia *really* didn't want to quit -- then again, it *was* shopping, on someone else's credit card. But she said, "Yes, that's it. That does *not* relieve you of your fittings! You still have to be-- oh, never mind, I'll tell you next time I drag you each down here," she muttered to herself, as all her companions had obviously stopped listening, and some had even already begun heading for the door.

Spike just walked over to Xander for a quick kiss before he had to put his clothes back on. The only reason he was going to put his clothes back on before leaving the shop, was because of the Scooby shorts. Which, hang about, might be why Xander had blackmailed him into wearing them tonight.... He narrowed his eyes at his sneaky fiancé. His sneaky fiancé widened big Doctor Pepper colored eyes at him. Who, me? Yes, you. They did the eye-dance for a few seconds, then Xander smiled at him. "Go get dressed, Spike."

Harrumphing, Spike did as he was told. He caught Gunn giving him a 'you are *strange*, boy' look as he turned to go back to the dressing room. Spike flipped him off, which Gunn *still* didn't get, and Spike wasn't about to explain it to him.

Spike spent two precious seconds actually taking off the jacket and grabbing his jeans and shirt, before heading over to the dressing room where Xander was currently getting dressed. Xander smiled at him as Spike brushed the curtain back and stepped in. See, now, it really wasn't fair to expect Spike to wait, if Xander was going to stand about in just jeans--especially unzipped ones. Xander in just jeans made you want to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist and feel how warm his skin was, and tuck your chin into that space where his neck met his shoulder, and look in the mirror over that shoulder, at yourself not being there. So Spike did.

"You realize this means she's letting us get married in no shirts?" he asked, nuzzling Xander's bare skin with his lips.

"And skin-tight shorts," Xander replied, happily. He didn't seem to be trying to get dressed, any longer. Just stood there and let Spike nuzzle. So Spike nuzzled some more.

"Know what that means, luv?"

"We can push Angel into the pool and he won't get mad? Well, not *very* mad, anyway."

Spike shook his head. "Well, other than that," he said over Angel's voice saying something like 'try it and you'll be ashes.' He sidled up closer to Xander, and ran a finger up Xander's hipbone. Xander leaned back against him, looking at him in the mirror like he was really there, which he was. Pretty sure Xander could *tell* he was really there, even through his jeans, as close as Spike and his thin cotton boxers were pressed to the back of those jeans.

"We'll...look like Chippendales dancers?" Xander did a little dance against Spike, and he groaned, and wished sincerely that he'd been in Oxnard, California, during the summer of 1999. At least Xander had indulged him once, and rented that dance club last year. One night, private party, and he still had the pictures glued to the bathroom door.

"What it means is that everyone will get to see just what Lil Xander and Lil Spike think of each other...."

Xander frowned at him, or rather, at the mirror. "I truly hope you're talking about those animated cartoon versions of us that you did up on the Mac last year." Said cartoons had been a big hit at the LA/Sunnydale brunch a few months ago-- at least until toon Spike started taking toon Xander's clothes off. Then for some reason Spike kept getting pelted with bread rolls. Spike just let his finger trail the curve of Xander's hipbone, towards the front. Skipped right over to that anatomically impossible to use opening in his briefs, and tried to use it, anyhow. Xander glared, now, though he was noticeably *not* doing anything to stop Spike's perambulating fingers. "You know that's why I said no naked wedding in the first place, don't you?"

"Hmm?" Spike wasn't listening any more. He had one finger halfway inside the briefs, and wriggled it to stretch the fabric enough to allow him to get another finger or three in as well.

"Because..mmm...Lil Xander really likes Lil Spike, and Big Xander seeing Big Spike naked would pretty much advertise that to the world. Big Xander seeing Big Spike in black swimming trunks, tails, and a bow tie..." Xander trailed off, as if he'd suddenly realized something. "Ah, frankly, Big Xander seeing Big Spike in Scooby Doo boxers pretty much does it too. Or jeans, or even green fluffy socks."

Spike wondered if he was supposed to be listening to his lover-fiancé-fuck-toy, or if he could freely continue trying to get enough fingers inside a stupidly-tight pair of underwear. Then he wondered if Xander would be sufficiently annoyed with him if he tore the underwear off, that he wouldn't let Spike play. There was a thought in there about leaving the shop and keeping a promise, but surely now that they'd *done* as Princess had asked, they could have sex?

"Spike?" Xander was writhing pleasantly against him, but his lips kept moving, and words, not groans, kept coming out of his mouth. "Spike, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Hmm? No, why?" He almost had two fingers in where he could get a hold of something useful.

Xander slapped his hand. "William Abelard?"

Right, that was it. Drusilla was a dead woman. No, wait, Drusilla was already a dead woman. Fine. Drusilla was a dead woman with severely curtailed Piranha-visitation rights. See if the kids got to play with their Auntie Dru again any time soon. Revenge plotted, he returned his attention to what his hand was doing. His now-stinging hand, which made him think that it'd be awfully nice if other things were stinging, too. Maybe he could annoy Xander just enough to make him spank Spike....Then he got a sudden mental image of what Xander had *promised*, and almost let his hand fall. "Er... wanna go home?"

Xander nodded, then whispered, "Yeah, but could you finish that, first? Lil Xander doesn't really care if you were listening to me or not."

*****

"Do I wanna know?" Gunn was asking Wesley. Xander and Spike were standing outside the boytoys' rooms, looking cute and expectant. Angel was trying *very* hard not to look amused. But Spike could tell. He was very amused.

"I'm not sure," Wesley replied. They didn't know what Spike and Xander wanted, only that they'd come to collect Angel, and that Angel had promised his lovers he'd be back shortly.

"You realize that after this, we're even," Angel said to Xander. Spike wondered, for a moment, just what favor Xander had done for Angel to get him to do this. He decided that first, he didn't want to know, because it probably involved stopping Spike from doing some evil thing or other that he really, truly, desperately needed to do to Angel, and second, that he didn't care. He was having enough trouble trying not to bounce up and down as he stood in the hall next to Xander.

"Right, until the next time you need me to put in a rush call down to Ann at headquarters to have the naked pictures of you removed from the July issue of _Demon_Lovers_," Xander said with a perfectly innocent smile. Spike had taught him well. Angel just glowered, mildly. Spike suspected that wasn't the favor Xander had done -- because if Angel really *had* found out about those photos, Spike would right now be living in Poughkeepsie. Possibly in a funeral urn.

"All right, let's do this," Angel sighed. Then Spike bounced. Stopped himself from yelling 'yea!' because...well...he couldn't remember why.

"Yea!"

Wesley and Gunn were looking at each other like they were afraid to let Angel out of their sight. "Er... Angel, this doesn't involve anything we should be jealous of, does it?" Wesley asked as Spike, Xander, and Angel turned to walk towards the lift.

Angel gave his lover a look, like Xander and Spike wouldn't be *worth* doing anything to be jealous about with, and Spike had to stop himself from kicking Angel in the shin. "With these two?"

Wesley nodded, though he didn't look completely convinced. Honestly-- like Spike needed big old Sire in his bed when he had enough Xander to take up two hands, a tongue, Lil Spike, and any extraneous fun objects or sauces they happened to have lying about. Or knew where to steal, which was sometimes half the fun.

Spike grabbed onto Angel's arm. "Come on, already! You promised, well, Xander promised and talked you into it and let's go, already. I wanna shag Xander, afterwards, and we're wasting time." For a second it looked like Angel was going to balk. Spike started to pout, and Xander did the eyes thing. Spike was so proud -- though most of it was sheer natural talent on the human's part. Honed on years of use on Giles, it worked quite nicely on a prone-to-guilt souled vampire.

"I already said I would," Angel said. "There's no point in wasting those looks on me." Yeah, Spike could see how *wasted* they were. Might get him to do it twice!

On the way to their room, Spike was watching Xander. Not looking at his arse or anything, of course. Just observing the fact that Xander was bouncing as much as Spike was. It was merely a happy accident that the bouncing part of Xander that Spike happened to be watching was his bouncing arse. Angel walked into the room slowly, as if he was expecting something to jump out and scream at him. How stupid. That gag only worked once, and then you had to move on to more subtle and advanced things, like shaving cream under the boytoys' door.

"Spike, did you remember to feed the kids?' Xander asked, bouncing over to the tank.

"Yeah, er, no. Hang on, I'll do it." He hurried over to the tub of fish food, and pried the top open. Looked like Dru had sent another box -- either Xander was getting less squeamish, or Auntie Dru had snuck into the hotel today. He reminded himself he was mad at her, and scooped up some of what was still wriggling, and dumped them into the tank.

"Is that--?" Angel began. When Spike turned to him, Angel just shook his head. "I'm not asking."

"You turned her," Spike pointed out.

"The spider?"

"Drusilla, you daft git..." Spike started to say, and Xander gave him a glare.

"Spike, don't you think we should go get ready?"

"Yea!" Spike dropped the lid and headed towards the bedroom -- then stopped and went back and put the lid back on the tub, firmly. He wasn't going to have his evening ruined because Xander was screaming in his ear that there were spiders in the bed. Especially if there *were*. As opposed to that time when he'd put the mechanical one under the blankets and waited for the fuss to start. *That* had gotten him some nicely stinging parts, and he smiled at the memory before dragging Xander into the bedroom by the arm.

Five minutes later, Xander called out, "We're ready! You can come in now!"

"Wait! I haven't brushed my fangs," Spike said, and hurried off to the bathroom. He made short work of it, and when he went back out, he jumped into bed with Xander. Then bounced. "Right, you can come in now an' infect us with your poofiness," Spike called. Xander whapped him, this time on the knee, for variation.

Angel poked his nose around the half-open door like he expected something to jump out of *this* room and do *worse* than scream at him. Or eat him, or throw raspberry ice cream at him, and Spike had *explained* about that, but no one believed him. When nothing jumped out at him, Angel walked carefully into the room, looking around. Looking everywhere, in fact, except at Xander and Spike in the bed. Finally Spike had enough of Sire stares at the ceiling. "Hello? We're over here, y'know."

Angel glanced at him, distrust obvious on his face. "You're sure about this...?"

Spike pouted, and could feel Xander doing the same. Hopefully they'd both gone for the exact same pout: Number 2. You're my daddy and you promised. Soon to be followed by Pout #2.5, which had the added "You don't love us anymore" lip quiver.

Angel sighed. "Fine, but after this we are *even*, do you hear me?"

"Yea!" Spike and Xander shouted together. "Until next time, anyway," Xander added.

Angel sat down in the red velvet chair next to the bed. Gingerly, as if he wasn't sure what exactly had been done in that chair. He probably didn't want to know, really--which wouldn't stop Spike from telling him, normally, but not when it might call off the fun. A dubious look at the two of them. "You're not naked under there, are you? Because if you're naked, the deal's off."

Xander shook his head. "Nope. Well, naked under our clothes, obviously. Wanna see?"

Angel desperately shook his head no, but it was too late-- Xander had already flipped the covers back to show him. Pajama bottoms for Xander, infamous Scooby shorts for Spike. Xander was giggling. "What did you think I meant-- did you wanna see under our clothes?" He flipped the covers back into place.

Spike could see Angel arguing himself out of getting back up and walking out. He could see the words running through Angel's head, probably half in English, half in Rutharian. It was really the only language in which one could properly say 'How did I get myself into this?' Spike and Xander got themselves re-settled after the blanket-flipping, then looked at Angel. Waited.

Angel opened the book, eyed them suspiciously once more, and then began to read. "Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak." He looked up at them. "Are you sure this is what you want? I have Paddington upstairs."

Xander sniffed. "Paddington's a Wesley book. This is our book."

Angel sighed again, but he turned the first page and began to read. Spike wriggled happily -- and not the 'I'm in bed with Xander' wriggle which would make Angel stop reading and leave the room. He did, however, sling an arm around Xander and snuggle him like a stuffed bear. Angel glanced up, eyes narrowing in suspicion. When Spike just looked back with as innocent an expression as he could muster, Angel returned to the book.

"The night Max wore his wolf suit, and made mischief of one kind and another," and Angel gave them both a knowing glance. Who, them? "His mother called him 'Wild thing!' and Max said--" Angel waited.

"I'll eat you up!" Spike and Xander chorused.

"So he was sent to bed without eating anything."

"Not fair," Spike murmured, but Xander shushed him, and he laid his head on Xander's shoulder. Just listening. They stayed more or less quiet while Angel read, except for yelling out the best bits. When the story was finally over, they made Angel read it again. After glaring at them and very clearly debating whether he'd rather feed them to the piranhas, he did so.

Afterwards, Spike and Xander snuggled down into bed, eyes closed -- waiting for Angel to leave so they could have sex without listening to him yell at them. Spike heard Angel walk over, and kept his eyes closed...even when he felt the kiss on the top of his head. Felt Angel lean over and give one to Xander. Waited until Angel was almost out the door before he called out, "I'm thirsty-- can I have a glass of blood?"

Angel walked back in-- Spike could only tell by listening, because he hadn't opened his eyes. "No, you cannot have a glass of blood. And you can't have a cookie, and you can't have another story, and you can't have a new car, either. Now pretend to go to sleep like a good little vampire."

Spike pouted, which wasn't as much fun with his eyes closed, because he couldn't see how good a guilt-reaction he was getting. He finally felt lips touch his forehead, though, and then, again, Angel leaning over him to do the same to Xander. "If you tell *anyone* about this, I'll make Wesley turn you into newts again. With no reversal spell."

"Can I have a glass of water?" Xander piped up.

Spike heard Angel trying to stifle a sigh. Gleefully, Spike remained quiet. Xander always had the edge when guilting Angel this way -- double the edge, actually. If Angel tried to brush him off with any 'You're 26, act like a grown-up' nonsense, Xander would go in one of two directions. The not-so-subtle 'That's OK, no one ever did that for me when I really *was* little' -- or the more subtle 'I suppose I could call Giles...he'd drive down here to do it for me.'

All Spike had was the 'you let me get turned into an evil-undead guy' guilt going for him. Well, that and the 'you stole my woman and I had to hit you over the head with a crowbar' guilt, but they'd pretty much agreed to drop that one, because it didn't really amuse anybody currently in the room. Angel wisely decided not to risk any of the guilt options, gave a long-suffering sigh, and brought Xander a glass of water.

Xander grinned and sipped about a teaspoon's worth of liquid out of it, then put it down on the table next to the bed. "I suppose a lullaby is *completely* out of the question?" Spike's absolutely wonderful fiancé asked with a straight face.

Angel just gave him a flat look. "Think about who you're asking," he said.

"Can we borrow Wesley, then? He does a good--" Then Spike was unable to talk, because there was a hand cutting off his airway.

A second later Angel had the decency to look a little abashed at his reflexive action. Of course, he didn't let go until Xander whapped him on the arm. "If you bruise him, we won't go away on our honeymoon."

"He doesn't bruise-- he has no circulation," Angel pointed out. "No bruising, no blushing, no---"

"His butt turns pink when I spank him," Xander offered with a smile, and Angel turned without a word, thumping his hulklike way to the door. "At the Copa, Copacabana..." Xander sang after him. Angel slammed the bedroom door, then a moment later they heard the door to the hallway slam, as well. Xander looked at Spike, grinning triumphantly.

"Very nice, I give it a 'ten'," Spike told him. "We got a bedtime story, *and* got to annoy Angel, and that was a very lovely touch with the Manilow," he continued in an academic tone.

"We forgot to buy the bow-ties and cummerbunds to bring home with us, though," Xander said, snuggling up to him.

Spike gave him a smug look. "*You* might have."

Xander returned the look with a measuring gaze. "Okay, so where are you hiding them?"

"Had 'em stashed in the closet since yesterday." Spike debated getting out of bed and fetching them, or staying where he was and getting praised for his cleverness.

"You went shopping without me? You're a very bad vampire," Xander said softly. But his hands were under the covers, and they were doing things that very bad vampires didn't deserve. Or maybe only very, very bad vampires deserved them. "Where'd you get the money?"

Spike blinked. Who cared about money, when there were hands to be encouraged? And why did Xander think he'd gotten the money anyplace other than where he *usually* got money? Oh. *That* was why. "I stole it. I'm a very, very bad vampire." And everyone knew, bad vampires got spanked.

The End