Xander opened the refrigerator and shut it. He peered into the cabinets and snorted. He pulled the refrigerator open once more and rattled the different jars of mustard and jam and unidentifiable fuzzy items before slamming it shut. Then he sat down at the kitchen table listlessly, scratching his chest and frowned.

At the rattling, shuffling, and chair scraping, Spike looked up from his chair in the living room and rolled his eyes.

Xander sighed and thrust one foot on the opposite chair. He drummed his fingers on the table for a while, then dropped his head onto the tabletop. “Ow,” he said mournfully.

“You know I’m not going to ask you what’s wrong,” Spike announced.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I expect you to actually take an interest in my feelings,” Xander shot back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spike said in a surprised voice. He rubbed his eyes dramatically and blinked at Xander. “I seem to have mistaken you for a person of the male variety. You want me to take an interest in your feelings? What the fuck are you on about?”

“Jesus,” Xander breathed. He stood up abruptly, went into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him.

Spike looked at the door for a while. “Is there something actually wrong?” he asked loudly.

“No,” Xander said in a waver-y voice.

“Wouldn’t do much good for me to ask you what’s wrong then, would it?”

“Shut up,” Xander said. His voice was so quiet that even Spike had to strain to hear it. When he came out of the bathroom a moment later, his eyes were red and puffy.

“Right then,” Spike said. He grabbed Xander’s wrist and started making for the apartment door.

“The hell?” Xander shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Fixing you,” Spike said slowly, like he was talking to a moron.

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

A few moments passed. Spike always won their staring contests.

***

Ten minutes later, they were barreling down one of the wide roads leading to the outskirts of town.

“A factory,” Xander said blankly. The car had screeched to a stop, and he could see that they were in the middle of some abandoned industrial area. “You brought me to a factory. Is this some twisted plan to cheer me up by making me tour dingy condemned buildings?”

“Get out of the car and stop carrying on,” Spike said.

“Asshole,” Xander said clearly.

“Just do it.”

“Fine.”

Xander walked around to the side of the car that Spike was leaning against. “I still feel like crap. Only now I feel annoyed too. And chilly. It’s cold out here.”

“Cold, yeah?” Spike said, drawing on his cigarette and throwing the filter to the ground. He ran his hand over the car. “The hood’s still hot.”

“You want me to sit on the hood of the car?” Xander asked hysterically.

“No, you utter simp. I want you to lean over the hood of the car.”

“You want me to . . .”

Spike grasped him by the shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him against the car.

“Fuck,” Xander said. “That really hurt, and...”

“Can you stop talking for all of a minute?” Spike asked with a growl. He scraped teeth against the side of Xander’s neck. pushing against him and bending him further over the warm metal.

“Oh man,” Xander said. He shivered and went almost-limp in Spike’s tight hold.

“That’s it,” Spike said approvingly. He flicked Xander’s belt open, pulled the button fly apart, and shoved Xander’s jeans and boxers to his ankles. “Come on now,” he said into Xander’s ear, nudging him to spread his legs further apart.

“I’m insane. It’s official,” Xander said loudly. “I don’t know why I let you--”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Spike replied with a slap to Xander’s ass. “Now--”

Xander tried not to reposition himself too quickly.

A snick behind him, and Xander felt Spike’s lubed fingers probing at him. Spike’s other hand clutched against Xander’s chest, digging his nails into skin keep him still.

“Yeah,” Spike growled, and Xander shoved back hard against his fingers. He tried not to whimper at first, but then just gave up, crying out softly as Spike brushed his cock against him before thrusting in fast.

“God, yeah,” Xander panted.

“Good boy,” Spike said, and started to ride him hard.

When he eased a tight fist over up and down Xander’s hard cock, Xander’s cries got louder.

“Go ahead,” Spike said. “No one around.”

“Harder. More.” Xander got out. He yelped when Spike pulled his hips back onto him.

“You can do better,” Spike said, obliging by increasing the angle and speed.

“Fuck me hard, Spike. Fuck. Do it, yeah, come on, more,” Xander called out.

“Louder,” Spike urged.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Xander chanted, his voice increasing in volume along with Spike’s strokes and thrusts. He groaned then exclaimed inarticulately as he came.

“Bloody --” Spike snarled, shoving Xander’s head down on the hood with one hand, and slamming both of them against the metal frame over and over. “Take it, yeah,” he called hoarsely, and came hard.

Spike bit along Xander’s neck and shoulders while Xander got his breath and focus back. They straightened, brushing each other off, readjusting and buttoning, and got back into the car.

After driving in silence for a few minutes, Xander spoke up. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “I feel better.”

Spike lit another cigarette with a single flick of his lighter and nodded once. “Thought you might.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*The End*~*~*~*~*~*~*