Laundry
by Scorpio

It had been a lovely and entertaining afternoon. Spike stood under the warm wet spray of the shower washing the evidence of his enjoyment down the drain. Shampoo bubbles tickled down his spine as he warbled along with the slightly muffled music pouring through the bathroom door as it mixed with the sounds of the shower.

"Ev'rything's Zen, ev'rything's Zen. I don't think sooo-ooo-ooo!"

Dimly in the background, Spike heard the telephone ringing and then 
the music was turned down. Annoyed because he liked that song, Spike 
growled softly to himself as he began the 'repeat' part of 
the 'lather, rinse, repeat' shampoo instructions. 99cent Suave (TM) 
Shampoo dripped into his eye's making them burn and sting and he 
thrust his face under the deluge of cool water pouring out of the 
shower faucet.

"Bloody 'ell. Jus' what I needed. Squeaky clean eye-balls."

Spike was just about to dive head first into a lovely rant when the 
bathroom door swung open letting some steam and heat escape. 
Growling, he turned to peek out from behind the shower curtain only 
to see his Xander looking at him with a resigned and unhappy 
expression on his face.

"What's with you luv? You look as if someone just eviscerated your 
pet dog and left 'is innards on the good carpeting."

Spike paused and considered it.

"Not that it wouldn't be funny, but..."

"Can I just interject an EWWW here. That was *so* not a happy thought 
Spike. Besides... it's something worse. Much worse."

Spike raise up his scared eyebrow at this.

"Worse than puppy guts?"

Xander nodded and then glanced down at the watch on his wrist. 

"Yeah. My old man and a few of his buddies from work decided to go 
hit the bar on their lunch hour. Seems a bunch of guys from a rival 
company did too. So, to make a long story short, I gotta go bail his 
ass outta jail for bar-brawling."

Spike grinned.

"I think you should just leave 'im there to rot, pet. Serves 'im 
right, after all."

Xander groaned and rolled his eyes.

"No way. That'll just make the beating I'll get even worse."

"So... stake 'im."

Xander sighed the sigh of the long suffering.

"Spiiiike! We've talked about this. I *can't* stake him. He's 
*human*, not a vamp."

Spike shook his head in confusion. His Xander was wild, witty and an 
excellent shag with a strong killer instinct,... but he had the 
strangest morals.

"Just 'cause 'es not one o the undead doesn't necessarily mean 
that 'e doesn't need a good killing, pet. You 'ave no problem killing 
demons, vamps and creepy crawly insects... why not child abusing 
drunks as well?" 

Xander just rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch again.

"Look. I gotta go get him. I'm gonna grab some money outta your 
wallet, but I *promise* that I'll replace it later. Okay? Just... do 
me a favor would'ja? Throw in a load of laundry while I'm gone. We're 
all outta clean clothes and that was on my list of 'things to do 
today' and now I'm gonna be stuck filling out bureaucratic red-tape 
type paperwork. I'll try and be back before dark. Love ya. Bye!"

And with a swirl of steam and a slamming of the door, Xander was 
gone. Spike blinked.

He didn't care about the money. He knew that Xander's old man would 
never even think of repaying it, but his Xander would. Even if it 
meant working overtime in order to do it, but that really wasn't a 
big deal to him. No. It was that *other* thing that Xander had said 
that was still running in circles around his skull. 

Throw in a load of laundry.

He was *Spike*, William the *Big Bad* Bloody! He was feared by humans 
and demons alike. He was the Childe of Angelus, Scourge of Europe and 
a master vampire in his own right! 

He was... destined to do battle with the dirty clothes.

"O Bloody 'ell!"

~~~

Spike stood, naked but dry, staring at the buttons and nobs on the 
old beat up washing machine in the corner of his and Xander's 
kitchen. The white enamel was scratched in several places and there 
was one or two dents in it, but he knew that the old thing still 
worked. He'd *seen* it work, because Xander washed their clothes in 
it all the time. 

Spike, however, had never washed a load of clothes in his entire 
unlife. 

That's what minions and servants were for, after all. For a few brief 
moments, he considered calling up Red on the phone and demanding that 
the witch come over and throw in a load of wash. He knew that she'd 
do it if he explained where Xander was and why he was there. Of 
course, then he'd have to put up with an unhappy Xander. Xander 
didn't like it when his friends pitied him, and Spike wasn't ready to 
volunteer for an evening without sex. 

And more importantly, Spike would have to admit that he didn't have a 
clue about how to do the stupid laundry. That would never do. He'd 
rather face Angelus with a splinter in his ass than to admit to being 
too dumb to figure out how to work a machine any silly bint could 
use. It was a matter of pride, after all.

Trying to read the worn lettering next to the buttons and nobs, Spike 
finally managed to start the filling cycle. Steaming hot water poured 
into the inner basin and he grabbed up the plastic jug of laundry 
detergent. Unscrewing the cap, Spike eyeballed the brightly colored 
label while wondering just how much of the flowery smelling blue 
stuff he was supposed to put in. With a shrug and a grin, the vampire 
poured in about half the bottle. Bubbles began to form under the 
splashing water.

Smiling, Spike put the lid back on and stuffed the much lighter jug 
back on the shelf. Turning away and whistling to himself, he went off 
to search for some dirty clothes.

Three pairs of white cotton boxers.

Two pairs of black jeans.

One bright red button down shirt.

One pair of tan khakis.

Four pairs black t-shirts, two pairs red t-shirts.

Unknown quantity of inside out balled up white socks.

Three blue bath towels.

Carrying his armful of dirty smelling clothes over to the beat up 
washing machine, Spike began dropping items in. When he'd gotten 
about two thirds of them in, he realized that the machine was full 
up, so... he began to jam the rest in. 

"Just needs a little elbow grease is all. Don't worry ducks... I'll 
make ya all fit in there. Everyone gets clean today. 'Cause I sure 
as 'ell ain't doing *two* loads o wash."

When he'd finally crammed the last piece of material into the 
overstuffed machine, Spike slammed down the metal lid and wandered 
off into the living room. The stupid machine was so loud while going 
about its business, that Spike always pulled out his portable CD 
player with headphones so that he didn't have to hear it. Not seeing 
any reason to break with tradition just because it was him who rammed 
all the dirties into the bloody thing this time, he quickly decided 
on an older Metallica (TM) CD. Something of theirs from the late 
80's... before they'd been turned into a pop-culture phenomenon. 

With the soothing sounds of heavy metal thrash rock pounding in his 
brain, Spike flipped on the telly and the N64. Time to get in some 
Mario practice. No way he'd let Xander kick his ass as some silly 
game...

~~~

Spike was one with the game. He could almost *feel* the moves the bad 
guys were gonna make *before* they made them. He was firmly in 'the 
zone' and more importantly, he was five moves from stomping all over 
Xander's High Score and placing himself as King Shit of 'the game'. 
It was beautiful.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Xander himself stepped in front of the 
bloody telly and ripped the headphones right off of his ears.

"What in the name of God did you *do* Spike!!!!!"

Spike grinned.

"Well, whatever it is you're yelling about, I can assure you that 
*God* had nothing to do with it."

Xander ground his teeth together and *growled* at him. Spike felt his 
cock twitch. His Xander had such a lovely growl.

"I swear, that if it wasn't for the fact that a billowing cloud of 
ash would *add* to this mess, I'd stake you myself!"

With that, Xander turned and stomped away in a righteously pissed off 
mood. Curious and just a bit amused, Spike rose up off of the couch 
and followed his lover into the small kitchen area. And then stopped. 
Stunned.

The banging thumping beat up old washing machine had shimmied itself 
out of it's niche in the wall and was slowly making its way across 
the scuffed linoleum floor. Pink soap-suds were pouring forth from 
under the lid and spilling out across the room to land on top of the 
three inch thick pink foam that was already covering everything. 
Chaos reigned supreme.

"Bloody 'ell Xander! The silly machine is possessed! Should I call 
that pouf of a watcher and 'ave 'im come over and perform an 
exorcism?"

Xander turned his head towards Spike and offered up a truly 
frightening glare. The vampire felt his cock respond favorably to it 
and he just barely managed to stifle a giggle. Finally, with a 
derisive snort, Xander stomped off through the soap-suds towards the 
washing machine. He reached across the lid and twisted a nob 
violently. With one last shudder, the machine fell silent.

His Xander then flipped open the lid with a loud metallic *bang* and 
reached inside. He pulled out a tiny pair of grey-pink boxers with 
little blue fuzz balls all over it and his mouth dropped open in 
utter shock. Spike racked his brain trying to remember if he threw in 
any article of clothing that resembled *that* one and couldn't. 
Stymied, he watched as Xander's shell-shocked face turned to him.

"What?... How did?... Is this?... Fuck it! I *don't* want to know!"

Spike watched as the confused and startled expression morphed into 
one of unadulterated rage. Once again he realized that his lovely 
Xander would make a *wonderful* vampire and pushed that up to the top 
of his list of 'things to do' once he got that bloody chip out of his 
blooming skull.

"You are NEVER allowed to touch a washing machine *again*!"

Spike just grinned.

*****

END