The Girl-Drink Vamp-Drunk, Parts 2 and 3
By
EntreNous

Note: This one is for Aoni, who made me giddy with her impatience for the next installment. Hope you like it, girl!

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Part Two:

“Crispy twisted cheese straws?” Xander called out from the shower. He turned off the water and strained to hear Spike.

“Check,” Spike called back from the living room.

“Mini Quiches—both broccoli and bacon—ready to go in the oven?” He gingerly opened the curtain, trying not to splash water on the floor. He’d cleaned the bathroom last night and had barred Spike from entering it during the day on pain of sex-withholding.

“Check.”

“Cucumber cups for the hummus? On the cookie sheet covered with tinfoil?” After wiping the bathroom mirror down, Xander reached into the vanity for his deodorant, promptly knocking over the mouthwash that he’d screwed shut too loosely.

“Check.”

“God damn it, stupid crap!” The room flooded with a sickening smell of mint. When Xander went to retrieve the bottle before the bath rug was thoroughly dyed a heinous shade of green, he jammed his toe into the pipe jutting out of the corner and started hopping up and down furiously.

“Check,” Spike cried out.

“Check?” Xander echoed softly in confusion. Holding his foot in hand, about to slip on the spilled breath freshening fluid, Xander suddenly paused. “Pigs in blankets?”

“Check.”

“Weiners on buns?”

“Check.”

“Slippery foot-long hot dogs sliding in and out of moistened-- ”

“Check.”

“Spike!! Get in here!”

“Ch—wha? Hold on!” Spike came pounding excitedly into the bathroom, stopping just short of grabbing his lover when he saw Xander’s furious face.

“You haven’t been checking anything, have you? Do you have any idea what the last three items I asked you to verify were?”

“Erm…huh…would this be a good time to tell you that I ate all of the pasta-cheese thingies?”

“Argh!!! NO! It would not be a good time! Everyone is showing up here in less than forty minutes, and how are you going to explain yourself if there is no food?”

“Christ, love, I thought this was a cocktail party—we’ve got plenty of the likker, so what’s to worry?”

“People expect snacks! They’ll want tiny puff pastry appetizers filled with stuff. They expect us to have bowls of gunk to dip carrots and crackers into and a full tray of celery that nobody will touch! I want them to be impressed with the hummus filled cucumbers—”

“About those…” Spike began reluctantly.

“No! Not after I was going to fill them and cover them with sprigs of dill! What did you do? Did you eat the cucumbers?”

“I possibly ate all the hummus?” Spike whispered inquiringly.

Xander tried to resist the urge to shake the vampire. He attempted to keep his voice steady. “Why are you whispering? I’m the only one in the fucking apartment!!”

“Now, nummy,” Spike said soothingly. “I’m just helping to calm you down. Why, you’re trembling like a leaf! Do you realize that everyone will be here in less than thirty-five minutes? You really should get ready.”

“Argh! Goddamn it!” Xander yelled. “Fucking. Don’t. Tell! Me! ToCalmDown!!!” He brushed past Spike angrily, and promptly restubbed his toe on the bookcase. “FUCK!!!!”

Spike looked concerned, but then smirked once he realized Xander had him shoved up against the wall of the living room. “Now, really love, this isn’t the time. We can’t very well fuck now when we have to finish setting up the glassware and what all.”

Xander dropped Spike in a heap and extended a warning finger. He spoke slowly in a low-pitched tone.

“You—stay there. Ah, ah, ah!” He cautioned Spike by wagging his finger when the blond tried to move off the floor.

“Stay! Now. I am going into the bedroom and locking the door, and you may *not* break the door down. Once I am safely inside the bedroom, you will run as fast as your undead legs will carry you and pick up stuff to replace the food that you ate. And you will be back here with said food all set up and ready for consumption in exactly thirty minutes.”

Spike smirked. “Love it when you’re all domineering, pet.”

Xander jabbed his finger meaninglessly at Spike, and turned with a huff to sweep indignantly into the bedroom.

“Oh, bugger all,” Spike muttered when he heard the door lock. He looked at the clock. Twenty-nine minutes. He leapt to his feet and scurried out the door.

***************************************

Twenty eight minutes later, Xander was dressed and considerably calmer. Spike had returned with bags and bags of groceries, only half of it completely wrong. (Herring Mayonnaise Spread? A bulbous eggplant? Double Stuff mint Oreos? “I thought we could top those with the RediWhip,” Spike told Xander proudly).

Maybe they didn’t have quite enough food for the crew they were expecting, but fuck it all, it was Friday, he’d been working like a dog all week, and he was going to have a good time.

Willow and Tara were the first ones to arrive, and Willow somehow took all of the wrong things Spike had bought and made sense out of them. The eggplant was now a centerpiece, placed upon the kitchen table in a verdant pile of parsley (Spike had brought back eight bunches from the store—“For garnish?” he’d said, brandishing them uncertainly at Xander) The herring had been dabbed upon crackers and topped with the sprigs of dill that needed new hors’d’oeuvres-y homes anyway. Tara had come up with the idea of crushing the mint Oreos, and layering them alternately with the RediWhip in a glass casserole pan. The concoction was sitting in the refrigerator, and it looked sort of yummy.

The right things Spike had carted home were also in place. Four kinds of cheeses, three of which Xander couldn’t pronounce. Red and green grapes. Stuffed grape leaves positioned around wedges of the lemons that Willow had somehow thought to bring along for the drinks.

At the center of the fold-out card table in the living room, Xander magnanimously placed the five kinds of hummus along with assorted types of pita bread that Spike had anxiously purchased. Spike poured the girls their wine, and when he brought over his boy’s Jameson and Ginger before he’d even poured his own Jack Daniels, he was rewarded with the tantalizing kisses of a forgiving Xander.

After that everyone else arrived close upon one another’s heels. Wes and Giles chatted politely for the first two rounds, but by the third they were snickering about their priggish London colleagues together as they manfully put away their drinks. Buffy was complimented roundly on her dress, and her eyes sparkled from the pleasure and from the strong Cosmos. Willow stuck to the wine, serenely nodding at Gunn’s anecdotes about the latest round of demons in LA, but Tara had gamely accepted a few vodka tonics and was now giggling helplessly at a worried looking Angel. Cordy, poised and darkly gorgeous in a burgundy dress with fabulous shoes to match, held her fourth Manhattan elegantly as she rolled her eyes at the sight of Spike feeding Xander multiple servings of pita topped with hummus.

When Xander ducked into the kitchen to refill the ice bucket and rinse out the two cocktail shakers, Buffy trailed after as she stuffed the last grape leaf into her mouth. “Xander,” Buffy said earnestly. Then she tried again. “Xander?”

Xander stretched and smiled at her. “I do like that dress, Buff.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” she sang as she shook her head back and forth to accompany her words. “There was something else…what was the something else?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Well.” Xander frowned. He wasn’t sure what number drink he was on, but with the relatively light food and the liberal pouring hand of Spike, he felt beyond buzzed already. “Something about another drink?” he asked.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, n—Angel!”

“No Angel? But Buff, I thought you’d want me to invite him.”

“No drinking. Angel. Not drinking. You said. A drink. For Angel. Right?”

Xander tilted his head as he regarded her thoughtfully. “Oh, right!” he exclaimed. “Get Spike—we talked to Giles, and we think that we’ve got something Angel’ll *really* like.”

Buffy was off in a flash, returning with a protesting Spike. When he finally figured out what the two friends were coaxing him to do, he flashed a chilling grin.

“Xander,” he said sharply. Xander snapped to attention. “Xander,” Spike repeated as a slow sneer settled on his face, “get the blender.”

**********************************

Angel attempted once again to hide behind Gunn as Tara scanned the room for him. “Where’d he go?” she asked giddily to no one in particular. “He’s so *silly*.”

“For the last time, Angel, get out there and take it like a man.” Gunn attempted to extricate himself from the clingy vampire.

“I don’t want to,” Angel answered anxiously. “She keeps following me around. And laughing at me. And poking me in the chest.”

Wes and Giles had become involved in a heated debate over whose College at Oxford had in fact boasted the superior cricket club. Cordy and Willow were scoffing and snorting at the two watchers. “Stupid British guys,” Cordy declared. “Coupla guys,” Willow hiccoughed.

When Gunn wandered off in search of the bathroom, Angel darted towards the kitchen to escape the bemused glances of Tara. He nearly collided into Xander, who gripped his arms and stopped him in his tracks.

“Angel,” Xander began, and then contorted his face bizarrely. It seemed he was trying not to laugh, or perhaps attempting to ward off a sneezing attack.

“Got something special for you, mate,” Spike coolly remarked as he stepped around Xander. The two vampires glared at each other in a kind of stand-off until Angel lowered his eyes and stared at what was in Spike’s hands.

It looked like a huge cognac glass. Sugar rimmed the edges. A twisted and striped crazy straw was plunged into the frozen concoction. And in the center was an icy, darkish colored beverage that looked nothing like the grown-up drinks the rest of the group held in their hands. The final insult—a red plastic monkey—hung off the glass in a mocking manner.

Angel put his hand out uncertainly for the drink, and then turned his eyes beseechingly to Buffy. She was leaning against Xander for support, her eyes wide, and her hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles. “Go on!” she encouraged him merrily.

He took a sip. The conversations around him stilled as everyone turned to watch. Angel swirled the crazy straw in the slush experimentally and drank a few gulps. Then he broke out into a smile. “This is really—yummy!”

Willow and Cordy looked at each other. “Are you hearing this?” asked Willow. “Angel said yummy!”

“Are you *seeing* this?” gasped Cordelia. “That’s a girl-drink in Angel’s hand!”

“That was a girl-drink,” Xander corrected them. And the past tense was appropriate, for Angel had already finished off the contents of his glass. “Spike! That was good! What’s that called?” he asked a little loudly.

“Called a Drunken Monkey, mate. Vodka, Godiva liqueur, banana liquer, a bit of cream, ice, and a dash of vanilla. Like another?”

“You bet!” Angel nodded enthusiastically. Xander moved smoothly to refresh everyone else’s drinks as Spike fired up the blender again for Angel. “Oh, and Spike?” Angel continued, “Do you have any of those…umbrellas they put in drinks sometimes?”

“Of course, sire,” Spike said smoothly. His eyes danced, however, and he hummed as he whirred together another complicated libation for the elder vampire. “I’ll even put another plastic monkey on the rim.”

“That’d be great,” Angel said seriously. Buffy stopped stifling her giggles and openly guffawed. Angel snapped up his next round and quickly slurped three-quarters of the way through his huge drink. “Where’s Tara?” he asked pleasantly. “She’s so fun.”

“Good lord,” Cordelia pronounced slowly. “Angel’s a girl-drink-drunk.”

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Part Three:

The CD swing mix that had been on at the beginning of the night had long ago finished, and after a succession of other tunes Beck’s “Mixed Bizness” now blasted from the stereo.

Giles and Wes were holding up the best out of everyone, for they stood upright without support. Their tweed blazers had been tossed aside, and they both gestured emphatically in their shirtsleeves. They were, however, beginning to slur a bit as they talked loudly about the virtues, or lack thereof, of certain daughters of elder Council members they had known in their younger days.

“You know, Willow,” Cordelia said tearfully as she faced the redhead on the couch. “I hated you when you stole Xander away from me. I wanted you to die a horrible and gruesome death. I feel so awful about that now.”

“Oh Cordy,” Willow breathed feelingly. “I wanted you to die long before you ever went out with Xander! Sometimes I still want you to die…you know, retroactive payback? I’m sooo sorry,” she wailed.

“Will—you’re the best!” the brunette assured her feelingly.

“No, Cordelia, you are the one who is the best of us that are the ones who are…here,” Willow answered in a high voice, trembling with emotion. The two hugged on the couch, and rocked back and forth as they soothed each other’s sobs.

Xander and Spike were leaning against a wall as they ran their hands wonderingly over each other. Xander gnawed on Spike’s sensitive neck, while Spike’s attempts to rip Xander’s black jeans right off of him were thwarted only by Spike’s difficulty in gripping anything adeptly after he’d finished off more than a bottle of Jack Daniels by himself. He did manage to wind himself sensuously up and down his lover’s body, however, while Xander urged him on with appreciative moans.

Buffy was seated in Gunn’s lap on the floor, and the two of them were frenching and pawing at one another sloppily.

In the kitchen, Tara perched on a stool while Angel piled cherries and banana slices and pineapple chunks into a mason jar. He drizzled generous amounts of several types of rum on top, then added coke, grenadine, sugar, and two dashes of triple sec on top before stuffing the jar full with ice in the remaining space.

“You know, I think you should totally shave your head.” Tara nodded at Angel, then waved at him in a friendly manner.

“You do?” Angel replied, half-listening as he groped around for another umbrella for his drink. “But people always like my hair. People think my hair is my best feature.” He paused as he downed the liquid part of the drink, then shoved his hand in amid the ice to fish out the fruit. “I don’t think,” he continued brokenly, “that people would *like* me without my hair. It’s a blessing having this hair,” he stated sadly, “but it’s a curse, too.”

“Oh, fuck ‘em!” Tara flung her arm around emphatically, almost knocking herself off the stool. “Do you care what the fuck those assholes think?” she shouted hoarsely.

Angel cringed away, then stopped and looked blankly at her. He slid his glass back onto the counter, and reached for the grenadine and rum.

****************************************

“Is the party over?” Buffy inquired uncertainly when she came up for breath.

“Well, the fact that the hosts have locked themselves in their bedroom might be a sign,” Gunn answered, and laughed easily. “But when the party’s over, we’ll know.” They resumed their lip-lock.

Soft groans drifted out of the bedroom. A series of murmurs was punctuated by the sudden crash of a lamp. “Oh, baby,” Spike called out loudly. At least it seemed loud until it was followed by Xander’s wail, “Come on, yes, oh, yeah, do it, please, Spike, nowgod nowyes nownownow!!!” Two howls tore out of the bedroom, and gradually slowed down to panting. Quiet laughter followed.

“Now,” said Gunn definitively, “the party is over.”

Willow jerked awake from her repose on Cordelia’s lap. Cordy’s head was lolled against the back of the couch, and she snored softly.

Wesley clapped Giles on the shoulder, and then the two Watchers shook hands. Wes appeared unduly moved by their exchange, and suddenly squeezed Giles into a full hug. Giles sputtered, but impatiently submitted to the affectionate gesture as he looked about for his tweed jacket.

Willow struggled to her feet, and decided to track down her girlfriend. She failed to locate her in the main room, and she was pretty sure Tara wasn’t watching the action in the bedroom. The bathroom was empty. That left the kitchen.

Willow appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and did a double take. Angel was hunched over the counter, running his hands desperately through his hair as though it was trying to jump right off of his head. He’d knocked over his latest attempt at a colorful mix of spirits, and was trying to suck the liquid off the counter where it was headed toward the edge. Over him, Tara studied the large pair of shears that gleamed, open and sharp, in her hand. She snapped them open and shut a few times, then nodded decisively.

“C’mon!” she urged Angel belligerently. “Move yer hands.”

“Don’t wanna!!” Angel shrieked in a frightened voice. “Lemme ‘lone!”

“Don’t be such a fucking baby!” Tara shouted, and attempted to maneuver the blades closer to Angel’s thickly-gelled coiffure.

“Tara?” Willow said uncertainly.

“Waita sec, almost finished,” Tara replied brightly. She slapped at Angel’s combing fingers impatiently.

“Oh my god!” Buffy exclaimed from the door. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Damn, girl,” Gunn said admiringly as he eased into the kitchen. “No one gets near the hair. You’re tougher than you look.”

“ ‘Sright,” Tara agreed. She suddenly noticed her vodka-and-tonic glass in her other hand, and tossed it casually to the floor, where it shattered into pieces.

Xander wandered into the room wearing a terry cloth robe, and began laughing when he saw what was going on. Spike appeared behind him, wearing only a rumpled and ripped pair of blue jeans. “Oh, for chrissake,” he swore as he breezed into the room, and easily liberated the scissors from Tara’s grip.

“Hey! No fair!” Tara shook her fist at Spike, then lost interest and went to slump against her girlfriend. She licked Willow’s neck upwards, and then stuck her tongue in the redhead’s ear.

“Alrighty!” Willow exclaimed with false cheer. “Looks like we should be taking off.”

Xander yawned and smiled sleepily at the assembled company. “How’re you gonna get home?”

Buffy, teetering slightly on her high-heeled dress shoes, scooped out a chunk of the Oreo-n-RediWhip dessert, and then licked her fingers efficiently. “I’ll walk everyone home. Not safe here in the dark.”

“Except it being not dark,” Gunn said wisely. “The sun’s about to come up.”

Cordy huffed from the other room. “Unless we can convince Angel to ride in the trunk, we’re stuck in Sunnydale till nightfall,” she called out.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” Spike asserted firmly. “We might want to fuck in the other rooms, and we don’t want none of you getting in the way.”

“Sounds like the trunk it is, Angel,” Gunn grunted as he attempted to hoist Angel out of the chair.

“None of you are in any condition to drive,” Buffy observed responsibly. “So no trunk for Angel.” Angel shuffled over to Buffy and grasped her hands gratefully. He started when he realized Tara was still in the room, and pushed Buffy around so that the slayer was positioned as a vamp shield.

“Get off! Guuyyy,” Buffy sighed dramatically. Angel snuffled pathetically, holding on to his red plastic monkeys for dear life.

“I know!” Willow exclaimed suddenly. “There’s a pancake restaurant just a few doors down on Main street. [“Famous Main street!” Xander cheered sleepily] We’ll bundle Angel up in a blanket, get some waffles and eggs, and sober up over a coupla quarts of coffee.”

“Yes, well, their blintzes are quite nice,” Giles affirmed, and the group gathered their things and prepared to leave.

“Great party, guys!” Buffy kissed both sleepy Xander and scowling Spike on the cheek. Giles nodded at the couple, and Wesley startled Spike by gathering him into a crushing bear hug. Willow stood on her tip toes, ruffled Xander’s hair, and dragged Tara along, preventing her girlfriend from making a last lunge for Angel’s head. Gunn steered Angel down the hall with a borrowed blanket, and when Angel turned for a last look at Xander and Spike they saw that he had taken not only the entire box of plastic monkeys, but also the ornately shaped crazy-straw that had been in his drink.

“That wacky sire of yours,” Xander observed cheerfully. “I’m glad Giles found those entries about Angel drinking sugared wine punch on the sly back in the day. Sounded like he managed to hide his fix for sweet candy drinks from the other vamps, but he couldn’t keep it a secret from those tricky Watchers. I must say, he seemed pretty happy with the Drunken Monkeys.”

“He did indeed, pet,” Spike agreed. “That is, until Glinda decided he’d look scrumptious with a buzz cut.” They laughed helplessly.

“Your sire is a girl-drink vamp-drunk,” Xander taunted Spike as they closed the front door and headed back to the bedroom.

“Well, thank god for that,” Spike shot back as he stripped off his jeans. “Annoying ponce that he is, can never figure out how to shut him up so’s other people can have some fun. Now we have ways of making him weak.” Spike rubbed his hands together maniacally.

“Whaddya think we should spring on him next?” Xander asked? “A Chocolate Choo-Choo? An Icee Cherry Vodka Bomb?”

“Oh, we’ll worry about the pouf later,” Spike observed. “Right now I want back at that arse while you’re still too drunk to mind that we fucked while your friends were in the next room.”

“Okay,” Xander said agreeably. “I’m definitely still drunk, because I couldn’t care less about that right now.”

Spike eased off Xander’s soft robe, drew them both further up onto the bed, and crouched down to run his tongue over Xander’s toned stomach. Xander drew in a sharp breath, and whimpered as Spike slid his hands from under his buttocks and up the backs of his thighs. Spike murmured and petted Xander, and eased one of the boy’s ankles over his shoulder before wrapping Xander’s other leg around his waist.

“Can we…again…next time?” Xander gasped out just as Spike was about to enter him.

Spike groaned. “No more words, pet. Gonna fuck you hard now.”

“Just tell me,” Xander panted, and cried out when Spike’s cockhead eased slowly inside of him, “tell me we can have another cocktail party sometime.”

“What! No!! What?” Spike blinked, his mind fogged by the sensation of his boy raising his hips to draw him in further into that velvet grip.

“Fine. Then I’ll just lie here and think of England.” Xander pouted, and stared resolutely at the ceiling.

“God, no, pet. Alright, alright. You can have another party. I won’t even eat the victuals beforehand.”

Xander smiled triumphantly, but Spike remained stilled despite having delivered his promise. Xander let out a cry, and worked his hips, trying to take Spike in and make him thrust again. “Spike!” he called out desperately.

“Okay, love,” Spike panted out, then shuddered as he began to pull back and push into Xander slowly. “Just. Promise me. One thing.”

“God, anything, Spike, anything, please!”

“If I have to—agree to the cocktail party—you have to—let me fuck you again—while your friend are—still here!”

“Good thing I’m still. So! Fucking! Drunk! Oh, god, Spike! I promise!!” Xander managed to shout out hoarsely “Again! Harder! Anything, Spike, I’ll do anything! Oh fuck, oh fuck, ahhh!” Xander came with a yell, and Spike gave in to his own sweet release a moment later.

They parted and lay on their backs, panting and shivering.

“Xand?”

“Wazzit?”

“Let’s have a cocktail party every weekend.”

“Oh, god…”

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The End!!!!