Fluffy (flufshepherd) wrote,
Fluffy
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And the third: Spike/Wesley

So, last time I posted the H/W for kitty_poker1's prompt: 'H/W or Spike/Wesley - a secret finally revealed.' Today I post the Spike/Wesley.

The House/Wilson one went over very well, and I'm pretty damn happy about that. So, here's the second part to that prompt:

Title: Beers and Bears
Pairing: Spike/Wesley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1114
Feedback/Concrit: Brings about nothing but joy.
Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor the 'verse belong to me. And there's no profit. So, consider it disclaimed.
Warnings: None
Summary: Spike and Wes spend the night drinking and talking. Some secrets revealed.

Beta'd by the marvelous, fantastic, superior, and delightful kitty_poker1.



It was raining out and they were sitting on Spike's couch, drinking. They were both drunk, but neither quite as out of it as they were pretending to be.

"You're an ass, Spike," Wesley yawned, kicking Spike's shins gently with his socked foot.

"Yeah?" Spike pretended to think about it for a few seconds. "Well, you'd know." He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Anyway, you're a prat."

Wesley sighed. "I am a prat, aren't I?"

Spike grunted in response.

"Spike? Have you ever noticed..."

Wes trailed off and Spike frowned. He nudged Wes' arm. "Noticed what?"

"Have you ever noticed that our most eventful days, whether good or bad, are almost always Wednesdays? I mean, I know we have cases every day, but have you ever noticed that Wednesdays are always the really big ones?"

Spike closed his eyes for a few seconds to think. "Not true," he said, finally. "Last Friday, we had to stop a group of giant chickens from raiding Micky D's HQ. If that's not eventful, I don't know what is."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Wes sighed. They both fell quiet for a few minutes. Wesley's head rested slightly below Spike's shoulder as they continued drinking. After a while, Wesley spoke again. "Are you musical, Spike?"

"No. A thousand times no."

"You've never sung? Played an instrument?"

"Never."

"Oh," Wesley said. And that, apparently, was that, until a few moments later when Wesley nudged Spike. "Xander told me you sang when a demon turned Sunnydale into a living musical."

Spike let out a low growl that couldn't be heard unless somebody's ear was pressed against his chest. Wesley heard it.

"You never told me you spoke to Xander," Spike grunted.

"Oh, don't be so testy. I'm not the one who lied."

Spike would have given Wesley a look, but he was too comfortable to move his head. "So I sang," he consented. "Once. What of it?"

"Did you ever play any instruments?"

Spike grumbled a response.

"Pardon?"

"Violin." It was still quiet, but this time Wesley was sure of what he heard.

"Were you any good?"

"Was all right."

"Play me something," Wesley asked, softly fingering Spike's shirt.

"Haven't got a violin, have I?"

"Am I special, Spike?"

Spike made a noise. "You're just the queen of non-sequiturs tonight, aren't you, love?"

"Am I? I mean, I know about in general, but am I special to you?"

Spike could hear the subtle sadness in Wesley's voice and he wondered if Wesley in fact did know about 'in general'. Spike pulled Wes closer to him. "You know you are," he said softly.

Wesley didn't respond, but instead took another drink of his beer.

"You are," Spike insisted. He shot a worried look down to Wesley, but Wes wasn't looking back at him. He just kept playing with the hem of Spike's shirt. "You know I wouldn't just sleep with anyone."

Wesley chuckled. "I think half of the Californian population might argue with you there, Spike."

"Oi! Not half. I've never even been to Northern California." Wesley was grinning, but he didn't seem like he was going to respond. "I, uh... I like you. More. Than other people."

Wesley looked up at Spike's face. "Say it, Spike. Just this once. I need to... I need to hear it."

Spike looked away and was quiet. Wesley looked at him with silent hope, but when Spike didn't respond after a minute or two, all hope fell from his face and he leaned his head back on the couch with closed eyes.

"When I was a boy --" Wesley's eyes shot open and he lifted his head to look at Spike, who still wasn't facing him. "--I had a stuffed bear. Bonko. He was a gift from my old man. Most dads back then gave their boys watches or really nice pens. That sort of rubbish. But not mine. Looking back on it now, he was pretty nancy. Explains a lot, come to think of it.

"Anyway, after he died, I started taking extra good care of Bonko. I wanted that bear to live forever, even if I wouldn't." Spike let out a short laugh and Wesley grinned. "Took him to University with me. You wouldn't believe the crap I got about that. As if being a bloody awful poet wasn't enough ammunition, I had to bring a small stuffed bear with me. Dealt with it, though. Took all the blows as they came. But if anybody laid a hand on Bonko... Well, they lived to regret it.

"When I died, the power was intoxicating. I was dead for a week before I remembered the life I was leaving behind. I tried to keep my mother, but that didn't exactly work out the way I wanted. I kept Bonko, though. 'Least he never tried to rape me. I never left him behind, no matter where death dragged me. I even had him in Sunnydale. And then.... then I died again. And Sunnydale went with me."

Wesley winced and stroked Spike's thigh sympathetically. "Spike..."

"When your lovely band at Wolfram & Hart decided to bring me back as a buggering useless ghost, I obviously didn't have any way of getting him back. Couldn't even leave the building. D'you know what I did the second I got my feel-ies back? Besides the obvious, of course."

"You went back to Sunnydale?"

"Oh, hell no. D'you think I'm insane? Went to a museum, and stole a bear from some Victorian exhibit they had. It wasn't Bonko, though. Do what you can, though, right? I call this one Billy. He's in my closet if you... you know."

"It doesn't bother you that it's not the same bear your father gave you?"

Spike snorted. "Please. That bear stopped representing my father ages ago. I just... I need it. It's from my time. That's enough, I guess. Angel never knew about Bonko. I never told Dru about him, either, but I can't say she didn't know. And I can buy a violin, but I doubt I'll be any good at it anymore. Haven't played in over a century."

Wesley regarded Spike for a moment silently before leaning in to lay a soft kiss just above his jaw line. "Thank you, Spike. I love you, too."

Spike smiled and finally looked back at Wesley. He leaned in and met Wesley's mouth with his own. They sat there for a while, kissing and holding each other until Spike finally pulled away.

"If you tell anybody any of this, I'll kill you. And you will stay dead."

"You wouldn't be able to kill me."

Still smiling, Spike shook his head. "No. I wouldn't."
Tags: angel, drabble/ficlet, slash, spike/wesley
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