Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: For Bloodclaim's 400 member 400 word challenge.
Notes: Just a bunny, and unfortunately unbeta'd for speed. If you see anything please be kind and point it out!
Word Count: 400 on the button!

Dirty Laundry

by
SunnyD-lite

Badly stained, dark, light, and nothing in these pockets. Dark, light, should be destroyed, and he was betting the last wasn't a typical hausfrau pile, but typical and life with Harris rarely intersected.

Things had been a bit off. Not that he was worried. Why would William the Bloody be worried if the carpenter was coming home later than usual? Or if he seemed distracted? Harris hadn't even opened the latest DVD set of Star Trek:Yet Another Spin-off Series, and that just wasn't bloody normal.

He wasn't bringing home any extra scents on him --vamps never have to wonder about cheating --but he was jumpier than the pot at a kitten poker game.

So Spike dealt with it in his usual fashion: ignoring it and, in the process, beginning to ignore his boy. Pretended to sleep while he left for work; had no choice but to be home in the damned sunlit summer evenings, but always had a late patrol planned.

Didn't stop them from having sex. That would have been taking things too far. Plus, he had to make sure the boy was marked. No more marathon sessions, and no games. Fast and furious, not that that was a bad thing, they both enjoyed it and it primed him for the hunt.

It was when he found himself doing laundry, so as to check through Harris' pockets, that Spike decided he'd had enough. This couldn't be happening again. Maybe Peaches' take on ignoring relationships was best. Not that he was brooding, just figuring out a plan. What about a present? Bribery's still evil.

Bribery it is: a flask. He'd noticed Harris eyeing his one on several occasions. Got it engraved too. Nothing sappy, he wasn't a total git.

The tension between them grew. Harris didn't even complain about the destruction of those Hawaiian things he called shirts. It wasn't natural.

One morning, Spike found a note by his blood.

"The Bronze, 8 pm, usual table"

Was this the end? Where they going to break up at the Bronze? How could he be so cruel? He was supposed to be a bleeding white-hat.

Dressed to the nines, using the never let them see you--metaphorically--sweat theory, he arrived.

There was a big card. The Niblet and the rest of the Scoobies stood cheering.

"Happy death day, Spike."

It was a surprise celebration. Maybe he'd keep the flask.

The End

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