dreams and Fic for dancetomato
Okay, first my dream from this morning. I dreamed I was reading some great fic and when my alarm went off I kept hitting the snooze so I could finish reading. Finally it occurred to me that if I just got up, I could come to work and read fic for real. :)
Back in mid-February, I offered dancetomato a ficlet for her birthday. I had planned to actually write it in the days just after her b-day. I forgot. Then yesterday I remembered and I sat down to write it last night and today. Here it is. Happy birthday, babe!
Title: This ain’t Tiffany, but I’ve got your breakfast right here.
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13 (there’s innuendo, though!!)
Written for dancetomato who asked for “Spander (duh) making pancakes on Saturday morning. Batter is messy. Batter must be cleaned up. Can’t stand leaving all that dirt around you know.”
Warning: This is schmoopy and silly and features top of the line kitchen appliances. It also has not been beta'd.
Spike leaned against the doorway leading to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’d awoken to the sound of pots and pans clanging to find himself alone in bed. Now he was shaking his head at Xander as he bounced around the kitchen to some bad country song that made him hungry for a few line dancers. Of course, if Xander were line dancing his idea of ‘eating’ one would be a bit different.
So there he stood, leaning against the doorjamb watching his boyfriend bouncing and mixing up pancake batter, waiting to be noticed. Any second now ... one ... two ... three ... “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!” Right on cue.
The bowl of batter went flying and Spike grinned at the memory of standing in the middle of William-Sonoma outing themselves to the world as they fought over whether to get glass or plastic mixing bowls. Spike had argued in favor of the plastic lavender bowls and spatulas that perfectly matched their new Kitchen-Aid stand mixer. Xander, on the other hand, had wanted some basic glass bowls that didn’t match anything and that Spike was certain Xander would end up breaking and then cutting himself on while trying to clean up the mess. Spike won the argument and for the third time in the last month was proved right.
“Jesus, Spike! Don’t do that!”
“Wasn’t doing anything, love. Just standing here watching you.”
“You scared the crap outta me! We’ve talked about this. And don’t roll your eyes at me.” Spike rolled them again. “You’re supposed to make noise when you walk around so that I know you’re here.”
Eyebrow up, Spike replied, “Did make noise. Your noise was louder. Couldn’t hear yourself thinking over the singing and the clatter.”
Xander’s face turned apologetic. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“ ‘S okay. Rather be with you than wasting the day sleeping all alone.” He smiled sweetly and slid across the room toward Xander but stopped when he stepped in pancake batter. He looked down and Xander followed his gaze.
“Oops?”
There went that eyebrow again. “Oops indeed.”
Xander grabbed some paper towels and bent down to clean up the mess at Spike’s feet.
“While you’re down there...”
Xander glanced up to find Spike grinning at him. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and went back to cleaning. “Here. Make yourself useful.” He handed Spike the half-empty bowl and spatula then reached for more paper towels.
Spike leaned over to set the bowl on the counter, pushing his crotch against Xander’s head as he did so. Xander gently pushed back. “I’m trying to clean up here,” he chided, not that his tone was particularly convincing.
“What’s the point?” Spike asked, letting his voice drop. “Just gonna get it all messy again when I lay down and let you eat pancakes off my ass.” He tipped Xander’s chin up, forcing eye contact. “You know you’re gonna have to mop afterwards. Got to get all that sticky syrup off the floor.”
Xander swallowed and stood up. He stepped in close, invading Spike’s space and then grinned in his own slightly wicked way. “Actually, I was gonna make waffles.” Spike looked confused and then he continued, “With strawberries and whipped cream.”
He stepped away to start a fresh bowl and of batter and laughed to himself. So what if he had to mop the floor? Nothing else to do on a Saturday but clean house and get it all messy again.
Back in mid-February, I offered dancetomato a ficlet for her birthday. I had planned to actually write it in the days just after her b-day. I forgot. Then yesterday I remembered and I sat down to write it last night and today. Here it is. Happy birthday, babe!
Title: This ain’t Tiffany, but I’ve got your breakfast right here.
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13 (there’s innuendo, though!!)
Written for dancetomato who asked for “Spander (duh) making pancakes on Saturday morning. Batter is messy. Batter must be cleaned up. Can’t stand leaving all that dirt around you know.”
Warning: This is schmoopy and silly and features top of the line kitchen appliances. It also has not been beta'd.
Spike leaned against the doorway leading to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’d awoken to the sound of pots and pans clanging to find himself alone in bed. Now he was shaking his head at Xander as he bounced around the kitchen to some bad country song that made him hungry for a few line dancers. Of course, if Xander were line dancing his idea of ‘eating’ one would be a bit different.
So there he stood, leaning against the doorjamb watching his boyfriend bouncing and mixing up pancake batter, waiting to be noticed. Any second now ... one ... two ... three ... “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!” Right on cue.
The bowl of batter went flying and Spike grinned at the memory of standing in the middle of William-Sonoma outing themselves to the world as they fought over whether to get glass or plastic mixing bowls. Spike had argued in favor of the plastic lavender bowls and spatulas that perfectly matched their new Kitchen-Aid stand mixer. Xander, on the other hand, had wanted some basic glass bowls that didn’t match anything and that Spike was certain Xander would end up breaking and then cutting himself on while trying to clean up the mess. Spike won the argument and for the third time in the last month was proved right.
“Jesus, Spike! Don’t do that!”
“Wasn’t doing anything, love. Just standing here watching you.”
“You scared the crap outta me! We’ve talked about this. And don’t roll your eyes at me.” Spike rolled them again. “You’re supposed to make noise when you walk around so that I know you’re here.”
Eyebrow up, Spike replied, “Did make noise. Your noise was louder. Couldn’t hear yourself thinking over the singing and the clatter.”
Xander’s face turned apologetic. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“ ‘S okay. Rather be with you than wasting the day sleeping all alone.” He smiled sweetly and slid across the room toward Xander but stopped when he stepped in pancake batter. He looked down and Xander followed his gaze.
“Oops?”
There went that eyebrow again. “Oops indeed.”
Xander grabbed some paper towels and bent down to clean up the mess at Spike’s feet.
“While you’re down there...”
Xander glanced up to find Spike grinning at him. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and went back to cleaning. “Here. Make yourself useful.” He handed Spike the half-empty bowl and spatula then reached for more paper towels.
Spike leaned over to set the bowl on the counter, pushing his crotch against Xander’s head as he did so. Xander gently pushed back. “I’m trying to clean up here,” he chided, not that his tone was particularly convincing.
“What’s the point?” Spike asked, letting his voice drop. “Just gonna get it all messy again when I lay down and let you eat pancakes off my ass.” He tipped Xander’s chin up, forcing eye contact. “You know you’re gonna have to mop afterwards. Got to get all that sticky syrup off the floor.”
Xander swallowed and stood up. He stepped in close, invading Spike’s space and then grinned in his own slightly wicked way. “Actually, I was gonna make waffles.” Spike looked confused and then he continued, “With strawberries and whipped cream.”
He stepped away to start a fresh bowl and of batter and laughed to himself. So what if he had to mop the floor? Nothing else to do on a Saturday but clean house and get it all messy again.