dragonyphoenix

Title: The Present
Series: Gifts – a collection of loosely related stories
Fandom: AtS
Category: Smutty but no explicit sex
Characters/Pairing: Spike/Lindsey, Ash Carpenter (suggested but mostly not seen)
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon: genius; me: just playing with his characters
Warnings/Squicks: None
Summary: Ash said she wanted a present...
Notes: First person who replies, in the comments, whose house they're at gets Lindsey next. Work out details with Mz. Carpenter. Except not so much anymore since I outted it as the Addams family house in the sequel.

Winner in Round 6 of the Running With Scissors Awards

The Present

As the stretch limo pulled up to the curb, Spike looked out the window in awe: turrets, eaves hanging over the side walls, a huge bay window, a porch with those decorative scroll-like thingies, and one vulture sitting atop the widow's walk. “Cemetery Ridge,” he breathed in wonder.

Hearing a sigh behind him, Spike turned his attention back to the interior of the car where his companion sat, naked except for a pair of cowboy boots and leather briefs. “Linds?” he asked, concern clear on his face. “We've been over this. There's no way she's gonna keep you, not forever. The family's out of town for the weekend, Friday the 13^th and all but they'll be back on Monday. Besides, you're a surprise. No way she'd have time to figure out how to get you back to, well, wherever it is she comes from. And, she likes seeing the two of us together way too much to keep us apart.”

“It's not that,” Lindsey replied, hanging his head. “What if I'm a big disappointment?”

“You've got the big part down all right,” Spike leered. Seeing that his teasing hadn't reassured his lover, Spike reached out, brushed his hand along Lindsey's jawline, raising his head. “You've seen her website and read her stories. Hell, her favorite icon is a picture of you.” Lindsey jerked away. “Come on, pet. 86.7% of her stories feature you.”

Lindsey turned his head back towards Spike but his body remained faced the other way. “How do you know,” he started.

“Fred did a statistical analysis,” Spike lied outrageously. “Come on,” Spike added stepping out of the car and holding his hand back to help Lindsey out.

Standing close to Spike, framed by the door of the limo, Lindsey asked, “Couldn't we have driven up the driveway at least? What if somebody sees me?”

Looking towards the house, Spike replied, “Who's gonna see you? Swamp to the left. Cemetery to the right.”

“Suburbia across the street,” Linsey snarked.

Turning around, Spike replied, “Oh. Well,” he added nastily, “more motivation to get into the house quickly.” Reaching back into the car, he pulled out a black cowboy hat. “Don't forget this.” As Lindsey started to put on the hat, Spike said in a shocked tone of voice, “You don't wear a hat in front of a lady.”

Lindsey ducked his head with a blush and a smile. “What?” Spike asked.

“I forget, sometimes, that you really do come from another age.”

“Let's get you in there,” Spike replied, pulling Lindsey away from the car and slamming the door shut.

Lindsey clutched at his arm. “Spike?” he whispered pitifully.

“Yeah?”

There was a long silence before Lindsey said, as if the words were being dragged out from the depths of his very soul, “What if it's not me at all? What if it's you she likes?”

Pulling Lindsey into his arms, Spike gave him a gentle kiss and said, “Look, how about I walk you up to the door?”

“And come in with me?”

“Well,” Spike mused. “That's gotta be her call. I mean, you're the present and all. But,” he added happily, “if she doesn't invite me in then you know she really does want you, yeah?”

Kissing Spike back took a bit of time but, when Lindsey turned back to the house, he took Spike's hand in his and gave it a confident squeeze. Spike squeezed back but his eyes were wide and he gave a nervous gulp as they walked towards the house.

As they approached the door, Spike said, “Go on. Ride 'em cowboy.”

“Yee haw,” Lindsey muttered, sounding nervous again as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

It opened before he could touch it.

Lindsey and Spike glanced at each other. “Mz. Carpenter?” Lindsey asked, clenching his hat in tight fists. A hand emerged from the gloom. One finger, it's nail painted bright red, gestured twice in a come hither motion. Spike let go of Lindsey's hand and slapped his ass, which sent him forward into the house.

“Well, I'm sure you'll be busy,” Spike started. The hand reached out, grabbed the collar of his black t-shirt, and yanked him into the house.

The door closed itself behind them.