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Written for ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
tamingthemuse prompt 'Juggling'.
Title: Under the Influence
Fandom: BtVS, Season 4, Spike and Xander in the basement.
Rating: Teen+
Warnings: Drug use, profanity, cold Thai takeaway
Disclaimer: All Joss's, except the juggling balls - they're mine.
Wordcount: ~3700
Summary: They've been in my head for two weeks, stoned and giggling like fools: they just wouldn't shut the hell up, so I wrote them down - that'll teach 'em.
"Untie me!"
"No."
"Untie me!"
"No."
They'd been at it for 10 minutes. Ever since Xander came in and sat down to try and watch TV.
"Please?"
"No."
Spike fidgeted wildly against the ropes, "Bloody hell! Untie me, or I'll…"
"You'll what?" Xander slammed down the remote.
Spike smiled triumphantly at getting an irritated response.
Xander scowled, "You can't do anything, fangless, now shut the hell up," he turned back to the TV apparently content to glare at the shopping channel.
Boy was tense. Ok so the constant…
"Untie me."
Xander ground his teeth, he gritted out "No."
… probably wasn't helping, but he'd been tense when he came in. Job hunting not the most fun thing to do with your time, especially given the type of jobs this one was likely to get. And following it up with a bout of slaying not the most relaxing pass time either.
"Untie me."
"No."
"Untie me-"
"No."
"-and I'll help you forget all your problems."
Xander half turned to him with a suspicious look, "If that's a come on, you are seriously deluded if you think it will make me more likely to let you go."
"I'm hurt," Spike didn't manage to look remotely offended.
"Right," Xander started to turn back to the once-in-a-lifetime offer of a hose extension for cleaning windows.
"Drugs."
Xander dropped his head onto the back of the sofa with a groan and counted off on his fingers, "I am not buying you drugs, Spike. Nor am I paying for porn channels, or letting you entertain a prostitute of any specialty or species in here. I'm not going to sub you the stake for a poker game, and I am NOT GOING TO UNTIE YOU!"
"No you, berk. I've got drugs. And if you ask nicely I'll share."
"I don't do drugs," Xander stared stubbornly at the ceiling, but Spike could see the temptation in the little twitch of the boy's fingers.
"Nothing heavy, pet. Just a little marijuana," that much was true. In Spike's not inconsiderable experience most pills or injected drugs worked better second hand, imbibed through the blood of a human. Alcohol required large quantities to have the proper effect, but smoke seemed to work pretty well the normal way. Ironic really, given vampire flammability.
Xander was chewing on his top lip. Spike plastered a cheap look of innocence on his face when the boy glanced at him. He reckoned just a little coaxing should seal the deal.
"Look. All it'll do is take the edge off, you know? Make the big bad world seem a little less big and bad."
"Willow'd kill me." Xander mumbled.
"Really," Spike snorted, "She's in college, mate. It's practically compulsory there. And I won't tell her if that's what you're worried about. Who do you think would be in bigger trouble? You for doing it, or me for giving it to you?"
Boy was looking at him now, considering.
"They even prescribe it medically some places. And I know you've taken more than the stated dose on a painkiller or two in your time. All those bruises; Slayer's sidekick it's a dangerous job. This is no different."
Xander rolled his eyes. Ok, so that tack wasn't working.
"Where do you think I got it? Brandy's not the only thing worth stealing from the Watcher."
"Liar."
"Am not! Well, yeah I am." Spike grinned evilly and Xander almost cracked a smile, "But I swear on- on- on my dope! You all got a glimpse of his misspent youth; even if you all pretend it doesn't exist. Seems he never stopped some of that misspending."
There was a long pause while Xander narrowed his eyes in consideration, and Spike held his gaze as bold and innocent as he could muster. He was just about to try another persuasive argument-
"Ok," Xander got up and came over to the lounger, "But any funny business and you're moving out of that chair and into the dustbuster, are we clear?"
"Cross my heart and hope to- oops."
"Very funny," Xander untied one of Spike's arms and the rope around his chest, then left him to deal with the rest himself.
Spike settled down on one half of the sofa and Xander perched on the end. Kid was jumpy, still thinking about getting caught. Though whether it was the drugs that concerned him most or the evil fiend he'd just let loose, Spike wouldn't like to bet. He just kept his movements unthreatening as he retrieved the hash from his coat. He had indeed swiped the little tin from behind Rupert's box of LPs, he wondered what other boxes of delights were secreted about that apartment. He busied himself with the tobacco, weed and papers; there were two joints ready rolled in there, but if he was going to corrupt the boy properly he had to show him how to make one. He finished the roll-up and lit it, immediately holding it out to Xander.
"There you go. Ladies first."
Xander took it and hesitated.
"Just take a little puff and hold it. Might make you cough, but you'll get the hang quickly enough."
Xander looked at him suspiciously, probably nervous of the sworn enemy apparently being nice to him, but he took the advice and the first toke without as much as a splutter. Then he quickly passed it back to Spike as if getting rid of the evidence.
Spike sat back and changed the TV channel to some music, but turned the sound down a bit, keeping it in the background. The smoked quietly for a couple of turns and Spike watched the majority of the tension bleed out of the boy.
"Don't see your little friends round here much," Spike couldn't resist a little dig.
"They were here yesterday, Spike."
Damn, they had been too. But the point still stood. Obligingly Xander seemed ready to make his point for him.
"Willow's doing even more homework than she did at school now. And Buffy's got a potential new boyfriend."
"Course she has. Great potential to be the town bike that one."
"Hey, she's only slept with Angel."
Spike shrugged, "He always did like them easy. Easy, perky and preferably blonde."
"Buffy's pretty," Xander said dreamily.
Spike looked at him askance.
"What? She is!"
"She's a slayer," Spike enunciated it very clearly as if explaining it to someone deaf or a bit slow.
"So? Yeah, yeah, mortal enemies and all that," he flapped his hand in dismissal, and was momentarily distracted by the movement, then he regained his argument "But! But, you've got to admit she's pretty. All blonde and fit and… pert. Butt. Pert."
Spike sniggered, then stopped himself and cleared his throat, beckoned for the joint. Xander passed it to him.
"You're pretty too."
Spike froze with the joint halfway to his mouth, but Xander gave no indication he was aware that he had just called Spike pretty out loud. Spike filed it away for reference and took a deep drag on the joint, holding the smoke in until his ears started to ring.
Xander took another puff and relaxed back into the sofa cushions with a sigh.
"Feeling better, pet?"
"Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Job hunting, pffft, who cares," Xander tried to blow a smoke ring and failed, "Not like anywhere that I'd want to work would hire me anyway."
"What job do you want to do?" Spike asked, genuinely curious.
"Well, I used to want to run away and join the circus."
"That so, pet. What would you be? Bearded lady?" Spike fell about laughing, pleased with his joke. Xander frowned at him in a slightly wounded, slightly confused way, and then ploughed on undeterred.
"I had a plan and everything. I learned to juggle. I was all ready, with an emergency bag packed for leaving in a hurry. All the essentials: chips, Twinkies, comics, balls. But the circus doesn't come to Sunnydale. Did you know that? They always avoid the vamp infested hell mouthy town. Smarter than your average resident I guess."
"Go on then," Spike gestured to the space in front of the TV.
"Huh?"
"I demand a demonstration."
"Of what?" Xander sounded ever so slightly panicked.
"Juggling."
"Oh. Can't."
"Why not," Spike actually pouted. Xander looked at him, blinking for several seconds as if trying to clear the fog in his eyesight, before realising the fog was in the room. He was staring intently at Spike's bottom lip in a way that could be misconstrued. Or maybe just construed. Spike filed that with the earlier 'pretty' comment. Spike's bottom lip resumed normal service with a smirk and the eyebrow came into play with a sarcastic arch.
"Ground control to Major Xander."
Xander closed his eyes and reopened them wide, restarted his train of thought.
"Rats ate them. My special juggling balls. I stored them down here in a box and rats ripped them open to eat the grainy bits inside. Weird." he shook his head then took a puff of the joint and held it out for Spike to take.
Spike drew his legs up on the sofa and eyed the corners of the room warily.
"What are you doing?" Xander said.
"Shh!" Spike held up one finger to silence Xander and cocked his head listening.
"Are you scared of rats?" Xander used Spike's distraction to take an extra deep lungful out of turn.
"No!" the Big Bad said just a little too defensively, before whipping his head around at an imaginary rustle.
Xander spluttered and laugh-coughed out the smoke he'd been holding in.
"Stop wasting it!" Spike snatched back the spliff, phantom rats forgotten. Xander carried on sniggering.
"Berk," muttered Spike.
"What does that mean anyway?" Xander asked.
"What does what mean?"
"Berk. Another one of your crazy English words, I know. And from the context I'm thinking it's not complimentary. But what does it really mean?"
Spike squinted at Xander, holding in a breath then exhaling a long cool jet of smoke.
"It's rhyming slang."
"What?"
"Jeez, you Americans. Rhyming slang. Apples and pairs - stairs. Dog and bone - phone."
Xander's mouth moved silently reciting the examples, "But what rhymes with 'berk'? Is it 'jerk'? That's a bit lame isn't it?"
"No it's not 'jerk', that's American. Berk is short for Berkeley hunt."
Xander repeated it a few times, while Spike watched in amusement as realisation dawned.
"You've been calling me a-"
Spike sniggered, "Calm down, pet. It generally just means 'idiot' now."
"Oh. Ok then." Xander settled back down with the almost spent roach, and Spike quietly delighted that he'd made the boy happy about being called an idiot.
"God, I could murder a Chinese."
Xander looked at him in horror.
"A takeaway! Bloody hell, stop being so uptight."
"Oh." Xander looked abashed, then his stomach gave a loud growl of agreement, "I think there might be some leftovers upstairs. The parental units had Chinese last night. Or it might have been Thai."
"Thai's good," Spike said brightly, taking the last puff on the joint and squashing it out in the tin lid. He stood up and stretched extravagantly; his t-shirt rode up baring his stomach. Spike noted the long glance Xander gave to the strip of bare skin, he added to his ever growing list of interesting moments. Just how malleable would another joint make the boy? But first there were munchies to be addressed.
They sneaked up the stairs to the kitchen. Xander's parents were already in bed, but neither wanted to risk waking them. Spike wasn't sure what they'd make of their secret houseguest, or his corrupting influence on their son, so he'd taken off his boots to tread lighter. He wasn't entirely sure how that would help, given that he could move pretty silently with them on, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
With exaggerated care they opened the fridge and retrieved the cartons of food. There was a hissed argument over Spike liberating a new six pack of beer as well, a compromised being reached at two bottles out of an already opened pack that were less likely to be missed.
As he tried to reopen the basement door with his hands full Xander dropped one of the cartons and the forks which clattered alarmingly as they hit the floor. They shared a wild-eyed look of horror as they stood frozen in the hallway, waiting for Harris senior to investigate the noise, but after a tense 30 seconds or so they figured they were safe and resumed their mission. Spike stepped in the spilled noodles and cursed softly, shuddering at the feel of the slimy strands between his bare toes. Xander barely contained his laughter, his shoulders heaving silently, taking in little wheezes of air. Spike gave him a two-fingered salute.
Eventually they made it back to the basement and the sofa.
"Do you want the rest of the noodles?" Xander asked.
Spike glared at him as he cleaned the noodle sauce off his foot using some paper towels, grimacing all the while. He threw the serviettes across the room missing the bin deliberately. Xander didn't seem to notice, he was too busy tucking into a carton of chili chicken. Spike snagged one of the other cartons and a fork.
Having demolished the food in short time (except the noodles which made Spike want to gag and which Xander declared unfit for human consumption now that they'd had vampire feet in them), Spike lit up one of the pre-rolled joints and settled back in the sofa cushions again.
After Spike's third hit without sharing Xander was frowning.
"Hey, you gonna pass that or not?"
Spike lounged, the spliff held in the hand he'd casually draped over the arm of the couch, well out of Xander's reach, "Make me."
He was expecting the boy, in his suggestible state, to make a mad lunge for it, a move guaranteed to land him right in Spike's lap. Instead he got a lapful of cold noodles, and Xander snagged the joint while Spike flailed about.
"Ugh, like bloody Gak'h'lar spawn. Fucking disgusting," Spike scraped the last of the offending food off his jeans and the chair and wiped his hands on the last serviette.
"Teach you to hog the dope, evil fiend."
Spike sighed and flopped onto the sofa, "What part of evil do you people not get?" he asked half-heartedly.
Xander offered him the joint in a conciliatory gesture, and picked up the TV remote. He flicked through a couple of channels settling on a creaky old black-and-white horror film, then breathed out the smoke he'd held in for as long as he was able. Spike was quietly impressed how quickly the lad had picked it up, smoking like an old pro.
"Why would you still want to watch horror films, given that you know it's not make believe?"
"It's still make believe if it's there on the screen," Xander leaned back and made himself comfortable, "and I can critique their monster make-up and their slaying techniques like never before. Makes me feel like an expert on something at least."
Spike noted that Xander was no longer sitting as far away as was humanly possible. In fact, he was quite close. As he passed the joint back again, he shifted a little, until his shoulder was just barely touching the boy's. How far could he press this?
"Don't be getting any big ideas there, blondie."
"Huh? No ideas here. None at all."
"I know I'm a nummy treat, and under the influence right now. Way, way under in fact. The influence is a mere speck in the ether above us. But whatever moves you're thinking of, forget them."
Spike craned his neck to look at Xander without moving his shoulder away from the warm touch of the boy's arm. Xander was fixedly watching the film.
"I can't bite you. We've established that. Several times in fact."
"You can't hurt me. Not the same thing." Xander took a puff and passed the last of the joint to Spike.
Spike stared at Xander who stared at the zombies lurching about the screen, "What are you talking about, pet?"
"Don't pretend you haven't thought of the anesthetic effect of orgasms."
Spike's eyes almost bugged out of his head, and Xander at least had the decency to blush.
"You think- You thought- How do you know about the anaesthetic effect of orgasms?!"
"I know stuff about lots of things. I just need to be interested that's all." Xander said defensively.
"You're interested in anaesthetic?" Spike asked incredulously.
"No! Orgasms. Look, I'm sorry I brought it up." the blush intensified, "Oh god, I did not just say that did I? I just know about it, that's all. And if you think you can seduce me into a free bite-fest you can forget it. And oh boy does pot make me run away at the mouth. I'm going to shut up now and watch my movie. As long as you behave yourself you can join me."
Spike busied himself for a couple of minutes, finishing off the joint and tidying away the makings into the tin. He assessed his options: the kid seemed to think Spike was after a quick bite, which was a fair assessment, but somewhere he had mixed in the idea of sex all on his own, the anaesthetic effect of cannabis having apparently completely passed him by. He'd also made several slip ups that suggested the pert, bounciness of the Slayer wasn't the only thing the boy found attractive. On the down side, he'd just pretty clearly declined any real or imagined advances Spike might have been making or about to make. It was almost too much of a challenge to refuse. That resolve could be worn down. What does a vampire have if not time, and the makings of several more nights full of sweet scented smoke? That sounded suspiciously like a plan. Spike opened the beers and sat back to watch the film, handing one of the bottles to his boy.
"I've seen this one before. I think I was at the premiere. Might have eaten the second director."
"Shut up and watch the movie, Spike," Xander reached over and clinked his bottle against Spike's.
"I can't believe he untied him."
"Well it's not like he can bite him. Maybe he just felt sorry for him."
"Right, because Xander has always had such empathy for the undead."
"Buffy, don't be mean. They look cute. I wish I had a camera."
"Does it smell funky in here to you? I think it smells weird. Do you think it smells sweet?"
"Um. It's- er- probably the take-away."
There was a sound of boxes being cleared away. Spike shifted in his half-sleep. His pillow was kind of lumpy and warm and had a heartbeat, which was odd.
"Willow, don't do his cleaning for him. You're not his mother. I'm going to wake them. Seeing them all snuggled up is wigging me out."
Spike's eyes shot open. He twisted his head and stared straight into Xander's bleary expression.
"Mornin'," Xander yawned and started to stretch, then he saw, "Buffy!"
Spike lurched upright, scrubbing at his hair - all over spiky mess was better than the one side of flattened curls he knew he'd probably woken up with.
"Xander, what were you thinking untying the evil undead?" Buffy demanded, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face.
"Hi Buffy, Wills," Xander repeated.
"Hi," Willow waved at him, and smiled sunnily at Spike too.
That was too strange; Spike started rooting in his coat for some cigarettes. Normal tobacco cigarettes. He found them and put one in his mouth, he reached for the lighter still lying on the table after last night.
"Don't light that in here," Buffy glared at him.
"It's ok, Buff," Xander stood up and rubbed his face, "let him smoke."
"You let him smoke in here? When did you become best buds with him? Has he got you in thrall? Why did you untie him?"
"I'm not in thrall, Buffy! He's really annoying when he's tied up, so I let him go. He didn't do anything bad."
"So you just hung out on the sofa watching TV? Am I supposed to buy that?"
"Yeah, you are. That's all that happened. That and eating Thai food," Xander took some of the cartons from the table and dumped them in the bin.
"What was wrong with the noodles?" Willow peered into the carton and poked at them with a fork.
"Gak'h'lar spawn," muttered Spike. Xander suppressed a laugh. Willow dropped the carton quickly.
"Ok. Whatever," Buffy shook her head, "We need to go to Giles' house. There's been some funky goings on at the cinema on the corner of Main Street. They've been showing a double-bill of old horrors and people have been going missing."
"I'll catch up with you. I just need to shower and change my clothes," Xander said as he started to usher the girls towards the door. Willow waved goodbye to Spike, who waved back, eyeing her warily, "You should take Spike."
Three pairs of eyes turned to Xander in surprise.
"He might be useful. It seems he knows quite a bit about old films. Isn't that right, Spike?"
"Er- yeah. Quite a bit," god help him, but he was quite pleased to be included. Besides, in the middle of their little group, there was all sorts of space to cause mischief. Spike bounded up to the girls and put an arm around each of them, "Shall we ladies."
"Move that arm, or you lose it," Buffy growled.
Spike didn't push his luck, as Buffy stalked away he winked at Xander and he lifted a blanket over his head to walk out to Willow's waiting car. He was rewarded with a smile and a roll of the eyes, and he may just have detected the start of a blush: all without the influence of Giles rather fine marijuana. Things were looking up already.