Shacking Up, 19
By
EntreNous

*******

Part Nineteen: Unexpected Responses

Xander's mouth went dry as soon as he heard what Nathan said. "Um, did I forget to mention that Spike's a vampire?" he asked weakly.

Nathan just stared for a minute, his face unreadable. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I thought you guys killed vampires. I thought vampires killed people."

"Pretty much, but --"

"Can you see how those two concepts don't lead inevitably to 'Spike is a vampire; therefore, Xander wants to date vampire-y Spike'?"

"Well, when you put it like that," Xander said with a vague gesture. "But he can't hurt anyone --"

"Just can't? How about won't?" Nathan asked quietly.

Xander exhaled and relaxed a little. "Both. I don't think . . . he won't hurt me that way. Even if he could, but he can't, because of . . . well, let's just leave it at that. Willow thinks he won't too."

"Willow knows and she trusts him," Nathan stated. "And you don't think that he'll hurt you . . . not physically."

Xander felt relieved that Nathan wasn't asking skeptical questions -- it seemed more like he was mulling over all of the new information.

Nathan gave him a small smile. "I don't really know as much about this stuff as the rest of you. If you say it's alright, I believe you. Just . . . look out for yourself, okay? You're a good friend, Xander. I don't want you to get hurt."

Xander nodded slowly. "Thanks . . . I'll try not to get hurt. Trust me, I'm not so big on the hurting of any variety."

Nathan was about to reply when someone started pounding on the door.

"Do you think . . . " Nathan said delicately.

"I don't know," Xander said with wide eyes. It sure sounded like it could be Spike.

"Xanderrrr!" Both of them jumped and grinned sheepishly at each other when they heard the impatient, girlish voice.

"Come in, Buffy," Xander called out.

Buffy flounced in and stopped in front of the couch, fixed her hands on her hips and stared intently at Xander and Nathan. "I'm very confused," she announced.

"Maybe I should get out of here," Nathan murmured, looking uneasy.

"Maybe I should," Xander muttered under his breath.

"And," Buffy paused meaningfully, "I want some answers."

"Who doesn't want answers when there are questions?" Xander remarked with a weak laugh. He looked at Nathan in desperation.

"Um, don't we have that thing?" Nathan blurted.

"There's a thing?" Xander asked blankly. He started, and exclaimed loudly, "Oh, that thing!" Nodding vigorously, he turned to Buffy and started to inch towards the door. "Really sorry we can't stay and chat, but we have the thing, and well . . . "

"Plus there are tickets involved," Nathan contributed.

"And lines," Xander affirmed. "Gotta get there early to avoid the lines."

Buffy sighed. "Stop inching, okay?" They both came to a halt and waited. "Listen, Xander. I'm not here to get all confrontational about who you're interested in or what you're doing. And when it comes down to it, this is all your business and no one else's. If Nathan knows what's going on with you and S--. . . and that helps you, I think that's cool. But I want to help too. And I can't help thinking that I could help more if I knew what you wanted. So can you tell me?" She stopped, a wistful look on her face, as she waited for Xander to answer.

"I would tell you," Xander answered slowly, "except that I don't totally know myself what's going on."

"Okay," Buffy said a little sadly. She glanced at Nathan, who was watching her sympathetically.

"It seems like everybody thinks stuff," Xander continued. "And I'm not sure what to think. But I don't want to mess things up by moving too fast, or waiting too long . . . "

"So you're pretty much aiming for no action at all then," Buffy commented.

Xander looked at her quickly, then suddenly broke into a grin. "And no action is exactly what I'm getting."

Nathan laughed softly, and Buffy seemed to relax a little. "That doesn't sound too fun," she replied, looking amused.

"Oh, trust me, it's a barrel of laughs," Xander said.

"How about this then," she began. "Maybe you don't know what to think, but you don't have to figure it out alone."

"Buffy, that's cool, and I do want to talk to you about this, but -- "

"I'm not talking about me, Xander," she said seriously. "I'm talking about Spike. You need to work out what's up, and he can . . . well, even if he doesn't know the exact answers either, maybe you can be confused together?"

"What are you saying, Buffy?" Xander asked.

"I'm saying that it's time to stop worrying so much about what to tell me, or how much you can tell Willow, or even what Nathan thinks." Buffy gave Nathan a small smile, and he nodded encouragingly at her. She took a deep breath and faced Xander directly. "I'm saying that it's time for you to talk to Spike."

********

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Willow asked. Her voice went up in pitch as she twisted her hands together nervously.

Oz leaned back in his chair. They were in his room, Willow perched on the bed. After putting off the "talk" during dinner and a stop at a party, there wasn't anything left that could reasonably distract them from the conversation.

"I love you," Oz began.

Willow nodded anxiously.

"And I don't ever want to do anything that would hurt you," he continued.

"Well, those both sound like good things," Willow said. "But why does it seem like you're about to say something terrible?" She looked at Oz intently, searching his face for some clue as to what was coming next. Then she gasped out loud. "Are you . . . are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" Oz exclaimed. "No, I'm not," he said more quietly. He seemed about to say something, but there was a strange look on his face, almost as if the corners of his lips were going to quirk up into a smile.

"Okay, I'm all for talking, but how did this go from serious to fun?" Willow asked. She couldn't help but smile back as Oz's face gave way to an almost silly expression.

"It's just . . . this is going to sound weird no matter how I say it. And I don't want to weird you out."

Willow bounced on the bed a little. "You know, it's hard not to get weirded out when someone says they don't want to weird you out. I'm imagining all kinds of dire news now. Kind of like when someone says 'Don't think about raisins!' and even though you weren't thinking about raisins before, now they're all you can think about – how raisins get made, why they don't taste like grapes whereas they are grapes, unlike dried apricots which do taste like apricots, and . . . okay, stopping now," she said when she saw Oz watching her with what was now unmistakably a smile. "Maybe you should just say it straight out. I mean, if we're not breaking up, it can't be that bad, right? Um, right?"

"It's not bad, and it's not breaking up," Oz reassured her. "It's just something unusual . . . and kind of the opposite of breaking up. In the sense that breaking up is about breaking into pieces and this is more . . . expanding."

"Now it sounds like we're going to venture into the overseas market," Willow observed. "Like maybe we're marketing raisins."

"How about you forget about the raisins?" Oz asked.

"See?" Willow gestured. "Now you've done it. Now I'm weirded out and I can't get raisins off my brain."

"Okay, how about this? Think expanding in the sense of adding," Oz advised.

"Adding," Willow echoed. She looked down at her hands, clearly puzzling through this information.

Oz took a breath. "What would you say if I asked you if you wanted to go out with someone else?"

She looked up sharply. "Why would you . . . uh . . . even if I did want to go out with someone else, it wouldn't matter. Because I'm with you."

"No, I don't mean just you, I mean . . . " Oz paused. "Half a second. You want to go out with someone else, just you?"

"That's not what I said." Willow looked away. Then she slowly turned to face him again. "What do you mean, just me? Are you talking about us seeing other people?"

"Who is it?" Oz asked in a shaky voice.

"Who is what?" Willow asked. "And do you want to see other people?

"The person that you want to see, that's who," Oz muttered. "And no, I don't . . . well, I don't want us to separately see other people."

"Oz, can we . . . let's take this one thing at a time. Stop leading up, stop trying to make this easy, whatever it is, because it's just making it harder. Tell me what's happening. Why did you want to talk to me tonight? What does it have to do with what you're saying now?"

"Nathan asked us out." Oz stood up and walked over to the bed, sitting beside Willow.

"Both of us?" She asked him for clarification.

"Yeah, both of us," Oz replied. "But we don't have to . . . we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I know it sounds strange . . . and if it feels wrong, then I don't want it for us. But . . . if you want to . . . I'd be up for trying it."

Willow sat there quietly for a few moments. Then she covered her face with both of her hands and made a snuffling kind of noise.

"Oh, fuck," Oz said quietly. Willow shook a little, her hands still over her face.

"Willow, I'm sorry," Oz said, unsure whether he should touch her comfortingly or back off. His hand hovered over her shoulder before he finally just pulled it back. "I didn't mean to upset you. You mean everything to me, and I wouldn't hurt you or mess that up, no matter what."

Willow was silent. Oz watched her miserably, waiting for some sort of signal. "Please, Willow . . . "

Finally she removed her hands. Her face was bright pink, and it looked like her eyes were just starting to tear at the corners. But then Oz realized something with a start, figuring out why she was turning so red just before -- just before Willow burst into hysterical giggles.

"Um, that was funny?" Oz asked dubiously.

Willow crashed back on the bed and shrieked with laughter. "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . ." she got out finally. "It's just that . . . oh, man," she said with a grin. "Nathan wants to go out . . . with us?" She covered her mouth with her hand and snorted.

"You know, of all the possible responses, I really didn't anticipate this one," Oz remarked.

"Oh come on," Willow said with a grin. Then she reached out and grabbed Oz, tickling him and pulling him back onto the bed with her.

"No, no," Oz said in a mix of alarm and pleasure, and of course that just made Willow tickle him harder.

Finally she stopped, and he panted on the bed, trying to get his breath back.

"I'll bet a lot of people don't know that you're totally ticklish," Willow said smugly.

"You could win a lot of money making that bet," Oz answered. A moment passed.

"I love you," Willow said.

"I love you," Oz said, pulling her close. They stayed like that for a little while, just holding each other.

"Okay," Willow said suddenly.

"Okay?" Oz asked.

"If it's okay with you. Then go ahead. Tell Nathan it's okay with me."

********

Spike sat on his patched chair, drawing on his cigarette. After talking to Buffy he had retreated to his crypt, thinking about how all of this with Xander was going wrong and wondering how to make it right. When he heard motion behind him, he didn't even raise his head. "Look, Clem," he said quietly, "I'm not much for talking tonight, okay? Got a lot of things on my mind."

"Alright," said a distinctly un-Clem-like voice. "But I kind of want to talk to you soon, okay?"

"Xander," Spike said quietly.

"Um, yeah . . . that'd be me," Xander said as he circled the chair and came into view. He sat down slowly on the couch, then picked up his hand and gave a small wave. "Hi!"

"Hi," Spike returned with wide eyes. They stared at each other just long enough to start Xander squirming a little.

"Can I say something?" he asked Spike.

"Yes," Spike said. He leaned forward a little.

"Great! Except that I don't know what to say," Xander stated. "I just got worried we were going to stare at each other all night, and then I'd have to leave like a big dope, never having tried to talk to you about what's going on between us."

Spike smiled slowly and rose out of his chair. "Between us, you say?"

Xander colored quickly, but he continued on with resolution. "Yeah."

Spike eased onto the couch next to Xander, close enough that he could feel Xander's body heat. "Being very brave, aren't you pet?" he asked.

Xander shifted a little, but nodded back. "Trying to."

"C'mere," Spike said hoarsely, and suddenly he was gripping Xander's shoulders, Xander's lips were on his, and they were kissing.

"Mmph," Xander said, but Spike didn't want to move away now that Xander and he were finally where he wanted them to be. So close he could hear Xander's heart beating quickly, so close that he could feel the moan that escaped from Xander as it built up in his chest. He pulled Xander closer, the increased pressure parting their lips and letting Spike move his tongue slowly along Xander's, his hand moving up under Xander's shirt and grasping his lower back.

"Wait," Xander got out as he pulled away just a little.

"Waiting," Spike said. He decided that wait didn't mean stop, however, so he moved down to mouth at Xander's neck, drawing blunt teeth over his skin lightly.

"Oh god," Xander panted. "No, seriously . . . oh, god . . . that feels so . . . no, really! I want to talk to you."

"Go ahead and talk," Spike murmured, sliding his hands to Xander's sides and switching to the other side of his neck. He licked a long stripe up to Xander's jaw and kissed it. "I'm all ears, love."

"It's kind of hard to . . . um . . . concentrate," Xander whispered, "when you're doing . . . that."

Spike straightened a little so that his face was inches away. "How about when I'm doing this?" he asked seriously, and then put his hands on Xander's cheeks, edging forward to his face slowly, bringing their lips together once more.

He sighed when he felt Xander's lips slide and part again under his own. Xander's hands fluttered at his shoulders, finally settling on his back. Spike felt Xander's strong arms fold together around him, and smiled into the kiss as Xander drew the two of them together tightly.

"Spike," Xander said softly, and Spike leaned in to capture those soft lips again for a moment before drawing back.

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers up and down Xander's warm arms.

Xander's eyes were closed, and he struggled to open them again. Spike was so near that he almost gave up and went to kiss him again, but he stopped himself with a last-ditch effort.

"I just want to work out what's up with us. You don't have to tell me everything you're feeling, and you don't have to know everything about what should happen, but I want to be able to talk to you." Xander said shyly, his eyes fixed on Spike's chest. "I want to work some of this out before we go any further."

"Hey," Spike replied, "we can figure this out together, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Xander said with relief.

"Good," Spike said briskly. "Now just get that asshole Davy to move out of your apartment, and -- "

"What? Why?" Xander asked. He moved away, backing himself into a corner of the couch. "Why are we talking about Davy? And why would I ask him to move out just because you say so?"

"Because I don't like you being around him," Spike said patiently.

Xander laughed briefly. "It's no secret that you don't like Davy, but --"

"He's playing you." Spike announced. "He thinks he can get in on a good thing while you're confused about what you want. And you've been so back and forth and indecisive that he's just waiting for you to stop flirting with him and let him make a move."

"What are you talking about? Davy isn't . . . and I'm not flirting with him . . . and you have no right to say any of this." Xander jumped up.

"Oh, like you haven't seen it," Spike said. "We're way past the stage of denial here, pet. I know you keep telling yourself that you don't know what to make of all this . . . me . . . Davy. But surely you understand that you have to make a choice here." Spike fixed his gaze on Xander. "I won't share you with anyone."

Xander shook his head in disbelief. "Spike, we don't even know where we stand, and you're asking me to do this for you already? What if I want to keep Davy as my roommate? Do you think that you should be the one making decisions for me?"

Spike stood and walked over to Xander, anger clear on his face. "If you don't want to ask him to move out, maybe it's because you're waiting for him to start something." He narrowed his eyes. "Is that it? You're waiting to see how many you can pull? Choose the best of the bunch?"

"No!" Xander said. He started backing away. "Christ, Spike. What do you want from me?"

"You. Just you," Spike answered quietly. But it was too late. Xander had already gone.

*********