Getting On...
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
28
Views:
4,011
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
28
Views:
4,011
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Getting On...
Title: Getting On
Author: Tisienne
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: S/X
Disclaimer: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox while he’s not looking.
Summary: ALL human AU. Characters from BtVS and AtS appear, but not exactly as we know them.
A/N: Takes place largely in Texas, which is a state I’m not familiar with. Geographical errors are entirely mine as I don’t use a beta.
* * * * * * * * *
PART 1
Long, hot, kinda crappy day… and it was showing no signs of getting any better, regardless of the fact that the sun had been down below the horizon line for a good three hours.
Xander groaned and cocked his head, first one way and then the other, trying to loosen the knots of tension and strain in his shoulders.
Then again, he only had himself to blame, he figured. Nobody had forced him to volunteer for fetch-duty; he’d just wanted off the site for a little while, not to mention that a few hours in the air conditioned cab of his beat up old pickup truck had sounded pretty damned good after sweating in the hot sun since just about daybreak.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t considered the amount of straining and heaving he’d be required to do while getting the twelve fifty pound sacks of cement compound in and out of the bed of the truck… nor that once he’d returned the bags to the purveyor, he’d be tired, cranky, and nearly a hundred miles from home, all of which told him something he’d already known.
“I am just not so good with the planning, or not this time, anyway…” he muttered, a smile breaking across his lips as the country station started playing the next song, which was… oddly appropriate, somehow. “Some beach, indeed.”
He wondered sometimes whether he’d made a mistake in leaving home to move to the ‘wilds’ of Texas, but mostly he didn’t have any regrets. It wasn’t as though he’d had much of a choice, aside from destination, anyway. He’d made a deal and he would have felt worthless if he hadn’t stuck by it.
He missed his seeing friends some, of course, because phone calls just weren’t the same as hanging out, but he’d made a few new friends and the constant ache had faded over the last few years and… he was good at what he did. Hell, Mickey even said he might make foreman someday soon if he kept working the way he had been. He was already the youngest shift supervisor in the company.
Of course, that didn’t mean much other than that he was responsible if any of his crew screwed up, but still. It showed that they had faith in him and if there was one thing Xander appreciated, it was that these people who’d hardly known him at all when he’d started had shown more confidence in him than his own family had… at least openly before he’d left. Since then was another story, but…
So yeah. It had been a long, hard, crappy day—and was likely to continue that way for at least another hour because he still had a good seventy miles to drive—but when he finally got home, there were a hot shower and cold beer waiting, both with his metaphorical name on them, and… things could be worse.
Long, thick fingers caressed the custom knob at the top of the stick shift and he punched the clutch, easing into fourth and pressing harder on the accelerator, kicking the old truck up to eighty. There was almost never any traffic on this stretch of road, and even if he did get caught speeding by one of the good-old-boy cops they’d probably cut him loose with a warning once they heard about the day he’d had. Or not.
Either way, though, Xander figured it was worth the risk. He’d gladly pay a speeding ticket if it ended up getting him home even ten minutes sooner than going the posted limit.
“And thank God tomorrow’s Saturday. Sleep, sleep, more sleep… and maybe I’ll splurge on dinner at Mamacita’s.” Hell, his mouth was already watering at just the thought of the spicy chipotle salsa and deep fried chile rellenos the small restaurant specialized in. It helped that he wouldn’t have to dress well, too, since Mamacita’s catered mostly to day laborers and those like himself who were a step above that due to having regular employment, be they American citizens or not.
Still, the tiny hole in the wall was comfortable and they welcomed him there, though if anyone had told Xander even five years earlier that he’d be sitting down happily with assorted immigrants, most of whom were illegal, he would have thought they were crazy… and even more so if they’d informed him that he would live a mere four blocks from such a place, but…
Time changed everything, he knew… especially young men. He was the living, breathing proof of that. Hell, he doubted anyone back home would recognize him these days… on more than a superficial level, anyway.
Long, hard, crappy day aside… Xander figured he was happy with his life. As happy as he could be, considering the truly ugly breakup he’d been through only… “God, has it really been a year? I so need to start going out again.”
Maybe he wouldn’t go to Mamacita’s after all.
It was while he was debating that very question that he saw the car stopped on the side of the road ahead, tail lights glowing in the darkness almost dramatically.
Had he still been in California, he probably would have driven on by, but… time really had changed him. Time and Texas, anyway, and it was still a good ten miles to I-35. He might be the only car to pass by for a very long time and… he would feel guilty in about three seconds if he didn’t at least stop to see if he could help.
Decision made, Xander flipped on his turn signal and slowed rapidly, abusing his clutch as he slid to a gentle stop behind the…
“Oh, wow,” he called, deliberately sounding friendly and harmless as he hopped down from the cab of his truck, “I love your car! It’s… slick.”
He strolled towards the front of the stopped vehicle, eyes taking in every detail of the sleek machine that was visible in the headlights of his truck. “I always wanted one of those, but I hear they’re a bitch to keep up.”
The voice that responded, when it came, was muffled behind the open hood, but not so much so that Xander didn’t immediately notice the accent.
He shivered just a bit, ordering his body to relax although it tried to rebel. He’d always had a thing for English accents… even when he’d thought he was straight, and yes, he was deliberately ignoring the fact that he’d grown up surrounded by more than one of them.
“Yes, well,” the voice said, sounding rather disgusted, “I suppose this particular instance merely proves that hypothesis. It has been close to an hour and I’ve yet to determine what in the blazes is wrong with this bloody infernal machine!”
Two dark brows rose and Xander stepped closer to the front end. “I’m not a mechanic or anything, but I could take a look at it if you want. I’ve gotten kind of handy, what with my truck trying to die on me at least once a week.”
His breath caught when the voice heaved a relieved sigh and the body it belonged to stepped from behind the cover of the hood. “I… wow, I… uh, hi. I’m Xander Harris…”
The man was rather large, William saw. Large and toned and dark and… He swallowed hard, nodding at the greeting. “I… yes, of course. I…” And those eyes were so deep, so dark, or maybe that was just the night. Yes, it must be so, he thought. Darkness was kind to everyone, after all, and it just wasn’t possible that this man—this ‘Xander’—could truly be as attractive as he seemed in the dim glow of stars and headlights.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking off his stupor. “My name is S… William. William Barrington. Please, call me Will. And if you can truly assist me, I will be most grateful.” And why the bloody hell was he coming off as a complete and utter pillock? This bloke was clearly out of his league, and most likely straight, besides.
God, that face… it was incredible, Xander realized, and somehow slightly familiar, although… no, he was sure he’d remember if he’d met this man before, what with the soft, full pink lips… cheekbones sharp enough to wound with a careless toss of the head… wide, light eyes beneath arched, mobile brows, the left of which was equally expressive, even with the scar that made the man look dashing… forehead high, but not too high… and that full head of thick, wavy blond hair.
‘Wheaten’, Xander thought silently because the word was perfectly descriptive but way too gay to say out loud. God, this Will was beautiful… and that was another too-gay thought to be spoken, regardless of how true it might be.
He barely let himself glance at the body beneath the face that had him so captivated, eyes raking quickly down, then up before settling on those pale eyes again.
“Will. Hi.” Xander blushed, thanking God that it was too dark for the other man to see it. “Uh. So. What say I check under your hood?”
‘Yes, please do,’ William thought, although in his head it meant something entirely different from what Xander was clearly asking.
“I… Yes, please do,” he managed to agree, only forcing himself to step aside at the last minute, right leg dragging slightly.
The blond was nervous. That was all Xander could think. Will was nervous, and… he supposed he couldn’t blame him. Middle of the night, car broken down on a little-used road far from the highway… add in some stranger coming along reeking of sweat and covered in dust, dirt and all manner of other things that hadn’t bothered Xander until just that moment, and… ‘God, Will must think this is some sort of ‘Deliverance’ thing… would he squeal…? I bet he would. Right after he finished begging me to… okay. I so need to get out more. He’s totally not acting like he’s even aware of the fact that I’m a guy, which has to mean he’s not gay, so… stop dreaming, see what’s wrong with his car and move on. Now.’
Xander shifted a little and moved to the front of the car, glad for an excuse to bend over. His half-hard cock wouldn’t be obvious in the shadows, after all.
William watched, bottom lip between his teeth as the taller man’s capable hands moved over hoses and valves, his body humming softly as he considered what it might be like to feel those work-roughened palms against his skin.
Not that he’d ever find out, of course, but… he’d never had a lover with work calluses or rough skin. The thick patches from sports and such, certainly, but not from straining away day in and day out to earn a living, and this man—this Xander—was clearly a working man. He even smelled… earthy and raw and delicious, which surprised him. He’d never been the sort to find perspiration appealing, but… on Xander, it was stunning and arousing and so very, very good that it was bad.
‘Oh, bloody hell… please let him fix the sodding car so I can drive away and not embarrass myself here. Xander is exceedingly straight. Also, clearly from around here. He’d likely beat me to death for even thinking about him this way…’
And still, William found his eyes traveling slowly over that broad back, down to the round ass covered by well-worn jeans. ‘God help me…’
* * * * *
tbc...
Author: Tisienne
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: S/X
Disclaimer: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox while he’s not looking.
Summary: ALL human AU. Characters from BtVS and AtS appear, but not exactly as we know them.
A/N: Takes place largely in Texas, which is a state I’m not familiar with. Geographical errors are entirely mine as I don’t use a beta.
* * * * * * * * *
PART 1
Long, hot, kinda crappy day… and it was showing no signs of getting any better, regardless of the fact that the sun had been down below the horizon line for a good three hours.
Xander groaned and cocked his head, first one way and then the other, trying to loosen the knots of tension and strain in his shoulders.
Then again, he only had himself to blame, he figured. Nobody had forced him to volunteer for fetch-duty; he’d just wanted off the site for a little while, not to mention that a few hours in the air conditioned cab of his beat up old pickup truck had sounded pretty damned good after sweating in the hot sun since just about daybreak.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t considered the amount of straining and heaving he’d be required to do while getting the twelve fifty pound sacks of cement compound in and out of the bed of the truck… nor that once he’d returned the bags to the purveyor, he’d be tired, cranky, and nearly a hundred miles from home, all of which told him something he’d already known.
“I am just not so good with the planning, or not this time, anyway…” he muttered, a smile breaking across his lips as the country station started playing the next song, which was… oddly appropriate, somehow. “Some beach, indeed.”
He wondered sometimes whether he’d made a mistake in leaving home to move to the ‘wilds’ of Texas, but mostly he didn’t have any regrets. It wasn’t as though he’d had much of a choice, aside from destination, anyway. He’d made a deal and he would have felt worthless if he hadn’t stuck by it.
He missed his seeing friends some, of course, because phone calls just weren’t the same as hanging out, but he’d made a few new friends and the constant ache had faded over the last few years and… he was good at what he did. Hell, Mickey even said he might make foreman someday soon if he kept working the way he had been. He was already the youngest shift supervisor in the company.
Of course, that didn’t mean much other than that he was responsible if any of his crew screwed up, but still. It showed that they had faith in him and if there was one thing Xander appreciated, it was that these people who’d hardly known him at all when he’d started had shown more confidence in him than his own family had… at least openly before he’d left. Since then was another story, but…
So yeah. It had been a long, hard, crappy day—and was likely to continue that way for at least another hour because he still had a good seventy miles to drive—but when he finally got home, there were a hot shower and cold beer waiting, both with his metaphorical name on them, and… things could be worse.
Long, thick fingers caressed the custom knob at the top of the stick shift and he punched the clutch, easing into fourth and pressing harder on the accelerator, kicking the old truck up to eighty. There was almost never any traffic on this stretch of road, and even if he did get caught speeding by one of the good-old-boy cops they’d probably cut him loose with a warning once they heard about the day he’d had. Or not.
Either way, though, Xander figured it was worth the risk. He’d gladly pay a speeding ticket if it ended up getting him home even ten minutes sooner than going the posted limit.
“And thank God tomorrow’s Saturday. Sleep, sleep, more sleep… and maybe I’ll splurge on dinner at Mamacita’s.” Hell, his mouth was already watering at just the thought of the spicy chipotle salsa and deep fried chile rellenos the small restaurant specialized in. It helped that he wouldn’t have to dress well, too, since Mamacita’s catered mostly to day laborers and those like himself who were a step above that due to having regular employment, be they American citizens or not.
Still, the tiny hole in the wall was comfortable and they welcomed him there, though if anyone had told Xander even five years earlier that he’d be sitting down happily with assorted immigrants, most of whom were illegal, he would have thought they were crazy… and even more so if they’d informed him that he would live a mere four blocks from such a place, but…
Time changed everything, he knew… especially young men. He was the living, breathing proof of that. Hell, he doubted anyone back home would recognize him these days… on more than a superficial level, anyway.
Long, hard, crappy day aside… Xander figured he was happy with his life. As happy as he could be, considering the truly ugly breakup he’d been through only… “God, has it really been a year? I so need to start going out again.”
Maybe he wouldn’t go to Mamacita’s after all.
It was while he was debating that very question that he saw the car stopped on the side of the road ahead, tail lights glowing in the darkness almost dramatically.
Had he still been in California, he probably would have driven on by, but… time really had changed him. Time and Texas, anyway, and it was still a good ten miles to I-35. He might be the only car to pass by for a very long time and… he would feel guilty in about three seconds if he didn’t at least stop to see if he could help.
Decision made, Xander flipped on his turn signal and slowed rapidly, abusing his clutch as he slid to a gentle stop behind the…
“Oh, wow,” he called, deliberately sounding friendly and harmless as he hopped down from the cab of his truck, “I love your car! It’s… slick.”
He strolled towards the front of the stopped vehicle, eyes taking in every detail of the sleek machine that was visible in the headlights of his truck. “I always wanted one of those, but I hear they’re a bitch to keep up.”
The voice that responded, when it came, was muffled behind the open hood, but not so much so that Xander didn’t immediately notice the accent.
He shivered just a bit, ordering his body to relax although it tried to rebel. He’d always had a thing for English accents… even when he’d thought he was straight, and yes, he was deliberately ignoring the fact that he’d grown up surrounded by more than one of them.
“Yes, well,” the voice said, sounding rather disgusted, “I suppose this particular instance merely proves that hypothesis. It has been close to an hour and I’ve yet to determine what in the blazes is wrong with this bloody infernal machine!”
Two dark brows rose and Xander stepped closer to the front end. “I’m not a mechanic or anything, but I could take a look at it if you want. I’ve gotten kind of handy, what with my truck trying to die on me at least once a week.”
His breath caught when the voice heaved a relieved sigh and the body it belonged to stepped from behind the cover of the hood. “I… wow, I… uh, hi. I’m Xander Harris…”
The man was rather large, William saw. Large and toned and dark and… He swallowed hard, nodding at the greeting. “I… yes, of course. I…” And those eyes were so deep, so dark, or maybe that was just the night. Yes, it must be so, he thought. Darkness was kind to everyone, after all, and it just wasn’t possible that this man—this ‘Xander’—could truly be as attractive as he seemed in the dim glow of stars and headlights.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking off his stupor. “My name is S… William. William Barrington. Please, call me Will. And if you can truly assist me, I will be most grateful.” And why the bloody hell was he coming off as a complete and utter pillock? This bloke was clearly out of his league, and most likely straight, besides.
God, that face… it was incredible, Xander realized, and somehow slightly familiar, although… no, he was sure he’d remember if he’d met this man before, what with the soft, full pink lips… cheekbones sharp enough to wound with a careless toss of the head… wide, light eyes beneath arched, mobile brows, the left of which was equally expressive, even with the scar that made the man look dashing… forehead high, but not too high… and that full head of thick, wavy blond hair.
‘Wheaten’, Xander thought silently because the word was perfectly descriptive but way too gay to say out loud. God, this Will was beautiful… and that was another too-gay thought to be spoken, regardless of how true it might be.
He barely let himself glance at the body beneath the face that had him so captivated, eyes raking quickly down, then up before settling on those pale eyes again.
“Will. Hi.” Xander blushed, thanking God that it was too dark for the other man to see it. “Uh. So. What say I check under your hood?”
‘Yes, please do,’ William thought, although in his head it meant something entirely different from what Xander was clearly asking.
“I… Yes, please do,” he managed to agree, only forcing himself to step aside at the last minute, right leg dragging slightly.
The blond was nervous. That was all Xander could think. Will was nervous, and… he supposed he couldn’t blame him. Middle of the night, car broken down on a little-used road far from the highway… add in some stranger coming along reeking of sweat and covered in dust, dirt and all manner of other things that hadn’t bothered Xander until just that moment, and… ‘God, Will must think this is some sort of ‘Deliverance’ thing… would he squeal…? I bet he would. Right after he finished begging me to… okay. I so need to get out more. He’s totally not acting like he’s even aware of the fact that I’m a guy, which has to mean he’s not gay, so… stop dreaming, see what’s wrong with his car and move on. Now.’
Xander shifted a little and moved to the front of the car, glad for an excuse to bend over. His half-hard cock wouldn’t be obvious in the shadows, after all.
William watched, bottom lip between his teeth as the taller man’s capable hands moved over hoses and valves, his body humming softly as he considered what it might be like to feel those work-roughened palms against his skin.
Not that he’d ever find out, of course, but… he’d never had a lover with work calluses or rough skin. The thick patches from sports and such, certainly, but not from straining away day in and day out to earn a living, and this man—this Xander—was clearly a working man. He even smelled… earthy and raw and delicious, which surprised him. He’d never been the sort to find perspiration appealing, but… on Xander, it was stunning and arousing and so very, very good that it was bad.
‘Oh, bloody hell… please let him fix the sodding car so I can drive away and not embarrass myself here. Xander is exceedingly straight. Also, clearly from around here. He’d likely beat me to death for even thinking about him this way…’
And still, William found his eyes traveling slowly over that broad back, down to the round ass covered by well-worn jeans. ‘God help me…’
* * * * *
tbc...