A Blind Date
Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to say it, I do not own the Spike or Xander. They belong to Joss Whedon. *pout*
a/n: This is set in the beginning of the 5th season, before Spike realized his feelings for the slayer. I do realize Anya and Xander are crazy about each other, but in order to make the fic work, I had to take her out of the picture.
It was almost 7:00 on a warm Friday night and he was getting ready for a date, happy to not be spending the evening alone. Sure, Buffy and Willow are constantly offering to keep him company, but he’s been getting tired of the whole pizza/movie night routine.
Besides, Willow has Tara to snuggle up to, and Buffy has Riley…even though she keeps him at arm’s length. Ever since Anya threw a fit and left, again, he’s been the uncomfortable fifth wheel of the group. ‘Hey! Snap outta it big guy!’ Xander says to himself as he steps out of the shower.
He wraps a towel around his waist, turns to the bathroom sink, and tries to wipe off the foggy mirror. Xander is by no means a small man standing about six foot with broad shoulders, slimmer waist, and large muscular arms.
He is pleased to note the busting of his ass with construction work has finally paid off as he observes himself in the mirror. He takes a couple minutes to make faces at himself as he poses, flexing his abs and pumping his arms. Does he look like a dork? Hell yes! But he doesn’t care.
He shaves very carefully thankful he remembered to buy new razors. He then runs his fingers over his masculine face to make sure it’s baby smooth. He splashes on some aftershave and combs his wet, dark hair. It’s reached the length to where it’s starting to curl nicely. He curses after taking a quick glance at his watch and realizes he’s running out of time.
Xander throws on a pair of khaki pants and fumbles with the buttons of his green dress shirt. He picks up the single red rose that was laying on his dresser and curses again as he impales one of his fingers on a thorn. Why the hell do roses have thorns anyway? Roses are supposed to be beautiful and romantic, not painful. He winces as he sticks his finger in his mouth to clean off the blood then throws on his dress shoes and shoves his wallet in his pocket. After grabbing his keys, he quickly leaves to meet his blind date.
In the dark corner of a small Italian restaurant, Spike slumps comfortably in his chair, his back to the far wall. He drains the last of his imported beer and places the empty bottle on the square wooden table in front of him. Instead of his usual attire of all black, he is wearing pair of blue jeans; a tight, long sleeved blue shirt a shade darker than his blue eyes, and he allowed his bleach blond hair to curl instead of combing it straight back.
He taps another cigarette from a soft, wrinkled pack and slips it between his lips. He tilts his head to the side and cups his hand around his lighter, protecting the flame out of habit. He inhales deeply, then exhales, watching as the smoke rises past the 'No Smoking' sign above him.
He and the waiter have already had the discussion of his smoking in the restaurant. They reached an agreement after he growled and flashed his game face. The waiter came to his senses and told a smirking Spike to do whatever the hell he wanted.
His blue eyes scan the small crowd before him and a look of annoyance crosses his sharp features. God, he hates waiting. It would be different if he would be able to sample the tasty tidbits scurrying around, stuffing themselves with Italian food, or just sitting and enjoying a glass of red wine. The damn chip those Initiative bastards shoved in his brain bloody well kept that from happening. Still, it didn’t keep Spike from imagining what each patron would taste like.
“Well, will you look at that,” a familiar voice states with false amusement, “Spike is joining the world of the living.”
Spike looks up to see Xander glaring down at him. His lips curl up into a smirk.
“Well, look at you, tryin’ to be all manly.” Spike sneered. “I figured you’d still be off cryin’ to the Scoobies ‘bout your demon girl havin’ the good sense to leave your sorry ass, again.”
Spike watches Xander’s face, waiting to see the small vein that liked to pop out of the boy’s forehead when he got angry. Spike always gets a kick outta watching the little bulge pulsing just above the boy’s left eye.
Xander’s brown eyes darken as he glares down at Spike from his standing position, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. Spike just holds the boy’s gaze, his smirk firmly in place.
“What the hell are you doing here, Fangless?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Monkey boy.”
“I asked you first.”
“And your point is?”
Xander sighs, knowing he lost this round. “I’m waiting for my date.”
“That makes two of us then.”
“You mean you actually found some random lonely loser who was desperate enough to join the likes of you?” He laughs as Spike flips him off.
“As much as I enjoy insulting you,” Xander says, obviously attempting to dismiss the vampire, “you’re gonna have to scram. My date is coming, and you’re sitting at our table.”
“Says you! I was here first, ya wanker!”
“Look, nimrod, my date is gonna be here any minute. Scram.”
“You are not supposed to be sitting at this table. There is supposed to be a woman at this table. An attractive woman with short, curly blond hair, blue eyes and wearing a blue shirt…” Xander’s voice begins to fade as he notices the curly blond hair and the bright blue shirt stretched tight over Spikes chest.
Panic begins to set in.
Spike, picking up on Xander’s alarm, notices for the first time Xander fits his date’s description with his 'warm brown eyes' and his dark green dress shirt. His date was supposed to bring a single red rose.
‘Don’t let him have a red rose. Please, don’t let him have a red rose.’ Spike’s eyes widen as he notices the color of the rose Xander was clutching in his left hand.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a yellow rose with you, do ya?” the other man asks nervously. Spike holds up the single yellow rose. The two men look at each other in absolute horror before their shouts could be heard throughout the entire restaurant.
“Oh sweet Jesus!”
“No! No, this can’t be happening!” Xander exclaims as he pinches his eyes shut as if that will magically make the vampire go away. “Please, dear God, tell me this is not happening.” He opens them again only to find Spike still sitting there. “Dammit!”
“Pipe down you git!” Spike hisses as he grabs the boy and almost throws him into the other seat. Xander yelps in pain, causing the chip in Spike’s brain to go off. The vampire lets out another shout as he presses his hands to his head. “You’re bringing unwanted attention over our way.” He growls.
“Me? You’re the one who’s shouting, buddy.” Xander growls back as he steadies himself on the chair.
Then, ignoring the look of pure murder in Spike’s eyes, Xander proceeds to perform a perfect face plant on the table.
“Why me?” Xander's voice, though muffled, comes across loud and clear.
“Ah, observe the lonely and the desperate.”
“Do you think that’s a wise thing to say to a big bad vampire?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I come across one.” Xander deadpans as he sits back up.
Spike flips Xander off again.
“So, now what are we gonna do?” The young man asks as he looks around.
“I plan on writing a very nasty letter to EDates.” He pauses. “Or perhaps a very interesting letter to Penthouse.” He winks at Xander, knowing full well it pisses the boy off.
“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.”
“Well you know, if you play your cards right…” Spike leans forward, licking his lips.
“You finish that sentence and I’ll make sure you blend in with the ashes on the floor.” Xander’s eyes darken as he makes his threat. Spike holds up his hands as if to declare his innocence and sits back in his chair once more.
After a few moments of silence, Xander looks at Spike. “You know, since we are here and I am kinda hungry, do you wanna….?”
Spike rolls his eyes, “Fine.” He grumbles as he signals hesitant the waiter. Ever since the smoking conversation, the waiter has done everything humanly possible to avoid their table. After glaring at the waiter, Spike looks back at Xander, his voice hopeful. “Do you think they have those onion things here?”
“I dunno. Maybe. But I’m not paying for your meal, got it? We are strictly Dutch tonight.”
Spike scoffs. “Bloody Hell. Fine, whatever."
The rest of the evening didn’t go too bad, considering. Spike and Xander ate their meals quickly and quietly, looking at each other only when necessary; or when their goofy waiter approached.
Once or twice, Xander appears to attempt to start a conversation, but then the words get lost between the large bites of food or the long tugs at the beer bottles.
Spike stands after finishing off his beer and looks down at Xander. “Be back. Gotta go to the loo.” The vampire sniffs and stalks toward the restrooms.
Xander stares at the small table, now full of empty but dirty dishes and almost a dozen beer bottles, most of which belongs to Spike. He shakes his head and sighs to himself. Tonight didn’t go so bad. It coulda been a lot worse. He notices Spike has been gone for a while. Xander looks at his watch. He looks back down at the table then looks at his watch again.
“Hey, wait a minute!”
The waiter appears beside him and hands him the check. “The gentleman in the blue shirt informed me this goes to you. Have a nice evening sir.”
Xander almost has a heart attack when he sees the final total.
“Spike, you son of a bitch!”
Meanwhile, after slipping out the bathroom window, a blond vampire lands lightly on his feet then lights his cigarette. He chuckles when he hears the whelp pitching a fit inside the restaurant. He didn't realize the boy's vocabulary was so colorful. He grins wickedly as an idea for a letter forms in his twisted mind as he strolls toward his crypt.
“Dear Penthouse, I usually don’t write letters like this…”