Part One

"Spike! You've just come out to the Scoobies about your hot, steaming relationship with Xander and moved in with said construction worker boyfriend to a gorgeous new apartment on Sunnydale's famous Main Street. What're you gonna do now?"

Spike blinked at the carrot…uh…imaginary microphone that Xander had swooped down to shove in his face. "Erm…shag him all night so hard that he can't walk away to go to work tomorrow?"

"No, no, Spike," Xander complained. "You've got it all wrong. You're supposed to say, 'I'm going to Disneyland!' Haven't you ever watched an NBA game?"

"Can't say that I have, pet," Spike returned, and vamped out briefly to split a few boxes open with his talon-like nails. He shifted back into human guise, and peered inside the first box. “Where do you think we packed the lube?"

"Already in the night-table drawer," Xander said grandly, with a sweep of his hand. He smiled, then backed away as Spike started prowling towards him with a familiar look in his eye. "Not yet. Now you ask me."

"Oh. Uh, have you ever watched an NBA game?"

"No, no, no!" Xander stamped his foot a little. "Do the Disneyland question to me."

"Right. So…Xander! You've just managed to land the most desirable vamp on the planet [Here Spike struck an enticing pose], informed your friends that despite any protests that they have, you're going to keep on being his naughty bit o' crumpet [here Spike leered and Xander blushed], and you've planned ahead for the best sex session of your life by unpacking the lube first thing, good pet that you are. What're you gonna do now?"

"Have a cocktail party!" Xander cried happily to the unbelieving vamp.

"What? What?!? Did I just set myself up for that? A *cocktail* party? Aren't you supposed to say something about that wretched theme park? Aren't you supposed to run off to the bedroom so I can chase you and pin you down? Have a cocktail party?!? Who are we, effing Nick and Nora?"

Xander emitted a world-weary sigh. "Spike, when you move into a new apartment you're supposed to have a housewarming thing for all of you friends so that they can see the place. I figure what with the relationship revelations we should crank up the expectations and have a really cool party. So…cocktails. And who're Nick and Nora?"

"Your knowledge of classic American cinema is appalling. But, all our friends? That's just you and me, right?" Spike asked hopefully.

"No! That means Buffy and Willow and Tara and Giles and…"

"There's more?" Spike looked paler.

" …and Angel, and Cordelia, and Wesley, and Gunn, and…"

"And that's it!" Spike roared. "Fine, we can have your poncy cocktail party, but you are not inviting every vamp, watcher, and slayer this side of the Mississippi."

"Fine." Xander paused. "So then Angel will come too."

"What? What? Did I just set myself up again? How did I agree to that one?" Spike sank heavily into the couch, and looked dazed. "Good god, we're having me sire over for canapés and martinis? Oh sure, Buffy and Willow were all worried about *you* getting tangled up with the big bad, but no one warns me about you and your-"

"Wily ways?" Xander asked hopefully.

Spike sat up. "Okay, pet, we'll have your little shindig…but you owe me!"

Xander rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to have fun at this too, you know."

"Don't see how."

"Alright, you big baby - I'll make it up to you - eep!"

Spike was on his feet, knocking Xander down, crawling his way up the other man, and rubbing suggestively against him in less than five seconds. "How about now?"

"Yessss…" Xander hissed agreeably.

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"Oooh…a cocktail party!" Buffy cooed excitedly over the phone. "I have a great new dress that'll be perfect! I saw it and I thought, well, I don't really have an occasion to wear it, but then the saleswoman said, 'get the dress and the occasion will find you.' Wow, it's like instant-dress-karma…buy a dress, get invited to a party - I'm totally never going to pass up a sexy A-line sheath again -"

"Gosh, that's great, Buff," Xander interrupted her. "Just tell me what you like to drink so that we can have everything on hand."

"Oh, well…cosmos, mostly. Do you know the ingredients for those?"

"As I am now the proud owner of two bartending guides, it matters not." Xander shifted the receiver to his other ear, and scratched his pencil against a pad of paper. "Cosmos you shall have. I've already got Will and Tara down for," he checked his list, "red wine…"

"God, could they be any more earthy? You're supposed to drink the hard stuff at parties. Wine is for dinner," Buffy said resolutely. "Make them drink vodka tonics."

"Well, it's wine they want, so we'll have it on hand. Actually if anyone wants vodka tonics, we should be all set. Apparently Wesley drinks vodka – Grey Goose, I think Cordy said – on ice, I guess? And Cordelia said she drinks Manhattans, Gunn said he'd be cool with Dry Rob Roys-"

"Well, that's kickin' it old school," Buffy said admiringly. "And we already know what Giles'll have-"

"Scotch. And more scotch," they said in unison. Xander snickered as he rounded out the list, then frowned at the one blank spot remaining.

"One more thing, Buffy. I haven't been able to get a hold of Angel. Cordelia says that he's definitely going to show, but she didn't know what kind of drink he likes. Actually, when I asked her, she thought for a while, and couldn't really come up with any drink that she'd seen him have. Except champagne one time, but I think that was drugged…"

"I sooo don't want to know about that." Buffy coughed. "But she's right - I haven't ever really seen him with anything alcoholic in years - some wine here and there, but only when everyone was having some. Nothing he chose himself. Doesn't Spike know what Angel likes to drink?"

"No. Funny, isn't it? He already knows that I drink Jameson and Ginger. Decades and decades together with Deadboy and he can't remember Angel, or Angelus, drinking much besides the blood."

"Well, Spike probably can't remember what Angel drank because he wasn't as interested as he is now in a certain manly carpenter-type guy we know and love."

"That's sweet, Buff…you're getting over your case of the wiggins about this, aren'tcha?"

"That's me…support-o-gal."

"And just for that, I'll buy those frozen mini-quiches you like for the party."

"Score! Hey, and I'll bring those Kalamata olives cooked in wine and garlic! Xander, you…I mean, you and Spike…should have parties more often. Hey, you know what? Maybe Angel drinks ye olden daye type stuff. Like…grog? Or wassail?"

"Not going to make anything called wassail. It'd make me feel dirty."

"Well, I guess that's good, 'cause I don't even know if that'd be in your book. Maybe we should ask Giles?"

"How the hell is Giles supposed to know what Angel drinks?"

"Watchers' Diaries?"

"Man, those watchers are a fun bunch. How many of them do you think died virgins?"

"Most of them, I guess. Except Giles, of course - but let's not go there!"

"Not going there. Just going. Talk to you, Buff."

"Later, Xand."

Xander put down the phone and sat at the kitchen table. “Hope Giles knows what we should mainline into Angel,” he muttered. “Ain’t no way that broody vamp is going to drag down this party.”

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TBC