"Are the hamburgers ready?" Spike asked, peering over Xander's shoulder to look at the grill.

"Not yet. I only put them on a couple of minutes ago." Xander poked at one of the patties with his spatula.

"They look done to me."

"They're still raw. See how pink they are?"

"You forget I like my dinner alive and kicking, pet."

"Too bad there's no cow handy for you to bite. This meat has been dead for a while and needs to be cooked."

"How long 'til they're ready?" Spike leaned heavily against the frame of the door that led from the balcony to the living room.

"Five, ten minutes. They're pretty thick."

"Would've been faster to put 'em in the microwave."

Xander spun and pointed his spatula at Spike's heart like a sword. A flat, flimsy, grease-covered sword.

"You have just committed heresy against the code of the red-blooded American male. It's part of my birthright to cook meat over fire and serve it to friends."

"I could go for a red-blooded American male about now. I'm starving."

"You'll just have to wait." Xander turned back to the grill.

"What about a hot dog? They're already cooked; you're just charring the outsides. Could have one of those to tide me over."

"They're not ready yet, and our guests get served first."

"But I'm hungry now."

"There are snacks inside, plus, you know, the stuff that actually nourishes you, which is in its usual place in the fridge."

They shared a brief smile over something of Spike's having a usual place in the apartment. Their apartment.

"But they're inside," Spike said, his frown returning.

"They're my friends. They're your friends. You should go mingle."

"They're not my friends."

"They want to be."

Spike looked over his shoulder into the living room where the Scoobies were gathered, chatting and munching on chips and vegetables.

"They don't. They're here for you," he said.

"They're here because they know you're important to me and they want to be friendly. They're trying to be nice."

"Be nicer if they didn't eat all of my food."

"Your food?"

"I bought it. Went down to the store, didn't I? Had a list and everything."

"Who wrote the list?" Xander asked.

"You."

"And whose wallet did you take the money from?"

"Yours. You left it on the table."

"Then, by rights, the food is mine, and I can distribute it as I please," Xander said, flipping over the burgers.

"So the 'what's mine is yours' speech was just a load of crap?"

"What's mine is yours, and we're both waiting until our guests are served before we get our own dinner. It's only polite."

"I'm a vampire. I don't have to be polite."

"You do if you want a hamburger."

Spike crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

"Please," said Xander quietly.

Spike's scowl deepened, but he didn't argue.

"Thank you."

"I want extra cheese on my burger," said Spike. "And two slices of onion."

"You can have whatever you want."

Spike raised an eyebrow and smirked. He stepped closer.

"Really? Right here? Think they'd mind?"

Xander's grip tightened on the spatula and a flush rose on his cheeks, but he ignored the innuendo.

"Why don't you go make sure our guests have enough to drink?"

"They know where the bloody refrigerator is. They raid it enough on movie nights," Spike said.

"And I saw you give Dawn my last raspberry ginger ale last week, so I know you know how to serve people. Why are you being so difficult? I mean, apart from the fact that you're you."

"Last week it was your ginger ale. Now it's ours. Or so you say."

"Right, and if Dawn drinks the last one, we can still get more."

"Seems like a waste, is all. Not like she's going to dehydrate, is she? Then we could spend our money on something more useful than fizzy pink soda. Like handcuffs."

Xander twitched and looked back into the living room to make sure that none of his friends had overheard.

"We can definitely talk about that later," Xander said, leaning closer and speaking softly. "For now, would you please just play host? The burgers are almost done, and then we'll be able to eat."

"And then what? A rousing game of charades? Watch old Rupert fall asleep in his chair?"

"What is with you? They were all here for movie night less than a week ago, and you didn't seem to mind. In fact, you and Willow got into a debate over Keanu Reeves vs. that Trinity chick, and you kept her here until the sun was coming up. Now you're upset because they came over when we invited them and are eating the food we bought for them?"

"It's my home now, isn't it? So if they're here and stay for hours, I've got to stay, too. Can't just leave if Rupert goes off on one of his stories about the old days or Buffy decides to braid everyone's hair."

"I seriously doubt that Buffy will try to braid your hair," Xander said.

"Dawn might."

"Okay, you got me there. But it's not like it's a prison, Spike. You can go when you want."

Spike scowled.

Xander reached over to pull Spike to him. He slid his free arm around Spike's waist and turned him so they were side-by-side in front of the grill.

"Look, if you don't want to go inside, you can stay out here with me. I'll keep you safe from hair-braiding. I make no promises about painting of nails, but at least you've got practice doing that."

"Dawn'll want to use the sparkles again," said Spike. "What kind of demon wears sparkly nail polish?"

"We'll just have to find something to keep your hands busy. No, not that. Do you want me to teach you about grilling? I could probably talk for an hour about what kind of charcoal to use."

Spike stiffened and pulled away slightly.

"Doesn't seem like the smartest idea for me to cook over an open flame, pet," he said quickly.

"And so we get to rule number one: if there are flames, you're doing something wrong. It's supposed to be a radiant heat from the smoldering charcoal, not actual fire."

Spike shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced back into the living room.

"Hey, pay attention," Xander said. "There may be a test. But first let's talk about the pros and cons of lighter fluid."

"Uh... Dawn looks thirsty," Spike said. "Maybe I'll go see if she wants some more of that raspberry ginger ale."

"Okay."

"But I'm only doing it for you."

Xander grinned and gave Spike a quick kiss. "I know you are," he said softly. "Thank you."

Spike left Xander alone to enjoy the smell of his sizzling dinner and the sounds of his friends - his family - talking and laughing just on the other side of the windows.

When the food was done, he slid the meat onto the platter and closed the lid on the embers. Leaning against the doorframe before stepping inside, he watched Spike hand Dawn a dangerously full glass of soda before sitting down on the couch next to Tara. Spike looked uncomfortable to Xander's knowing eyes, but he was there, and he was making an effort. Xander smiled.

"Burgers are ready," he said, and his guests scrambled to their feet.

"Yay!" said Willow.

"I want two," said Buffy. "It was a rough night of slaying."

"Can I have a hot dog?" Dawn asked.

"'Bout time," said Spike. He got to his feet with a loud sigh, but he stayed back as Xander put the platter on the table with the condiments.

"Ladies first," Spike said. "We'll count you and solider boy in that group, Rupert."

As Giles and Riley grumbled, Xander grinned and caught Spike's hand to draw him closer. They stood off to the side as their guests helped themselves to dinner.

"Ready to eat?" he asked Spike when the others settled back on the couches and floor.

"After you," Spike said. "What's left is mine, right?"

Xander laughed and shook his head.

"People might want seconds."

"You lot have too many bloody rules," Spike grumbled, but he only took two hamburgers.

When Xander had first told his friends that Spike was moving in with him, Buffy had asked him if he really could be happy with someone who argued all the time, stole his money, and made a mess of everything.

No, Xander thought as he folded himself to the floor beside the vampire and listened to him tease Dawn about eating ketchup on her hot dog, he wasn't happy with Spike. 'Happy' wasn't anywhere good enough to describe how he felt.

~end~