Old Enemies... (S/X)

* * * * * * * * *
Part 12

Harris signed copy after copy of his new book, appearing to pay attention to each of his fans as he did so. In reality, though, his mind was a good three point seven miles away.

Spike was sleeping by now, he was sure. Hell, he’d be sleeping himself if he could… or more to the point, he’d at least be in bed NOT sleeping if he were with Spike. But instead, here he was, trying to be gracious as the store manager brought him yet another café latte.

“Gods, no,” he finally said with a grin. “One more of those and I won’t stop vibrating til morning.”

The manager laughed and trundled off, saying something about a bottle of water instead.

Elliot laughed and leaned forward from his chair behind and slightly to the left of Harris. “The question is, whether that would be a bad thing. I have a feeling WILL wouldn’t mind.”

He could hear the smirk in Elliot’s voice and blushed slightly, almost entirely sure his friend was right. Still… “I don’t even know if I’ll be seeing him tonight, El. We didn’t get around to talking about it. And speaking of nights… you still haven’t told me about Trevor,” he murmured back.

The blond man chuckled happily. “What’s to tell? Young, relatively inexperienced, and willing to learn. I’ll be seeing him later. Poor kid needs some learning and I’m just the guy to give it to him.”

Harris grinned and turned some of his attention back to the woman standing across the table, gripping his new book like it was her lifeline.

He reached out with a grin and pried the book from her fingers before opening it, his pen poised over the blank first page. “So, who should I make this out to?”

* * * * *

Half an hour, Spike figured, for Xander to get back to the hotel. Another forty minutes for the bloke to shower, shave and change. Maybe twenty minutes to get a cab and make it to the shop he’d been going to. Four hours, his human was contracted to stay, then another hour or so for the man to get back to the hotel, change again, and haul his ass back to Spike’s place.

He added the figures again, then looked at the clock and frowned. Five and a half hours total. Xander’d left at one, so… he should have been back by now, damn it!

Unless it had all been a lie, a little voice in the back of his head whispered, slowly growing louder. The younger man could have played him… wanted nothing but a shag or six to put in another sodding book… and he’d been so overwhelmed with the notion of love with someone who actually wanted him, he’d never even noticed.

It wasn’t like they’d even exchanged phone numbers or anything. Hell, all he knew was the bloke was staying at the Plaza. Unless that was another lie.

But no… Xander had said that before he even knew it was Spike in that bathroom stall, so that part was true, he figured.

Of course, there was one way to find out for sure.

He stalked across the living room and snatched up the phone, dialing the operator for the number.

He snarled as he waited to be connected, then forced himself to stop when the hotel’s front desk answered.

“Yeah, I’m callin’ for Harrison Alexander. Put me through.”

He felt his demon slipping to the fore when the man on the phone informed him that there was no guest registered under that name. So even before he’d known it was Spike, the man had been lying. Had he said anything at all that was true? Probably not.

But the other bloke, that Elliot. He’d seemed to want Spike to work for him, so maybe… “Right,” he said snippily, “Give me Elliot, then. Uh… Washboard. Washbin. Somethin’ like that.”

He darted into his room, the cordless phone still pressed to his ear as he dug the business card from the pocket of the jeans he’d worn the night before. “Washburn! That’s the git!” he nearly shouted into the phone.

He practically bounced with impatience as the call rang through, growling when he got voice mail rather than an actual voice.

The handset shattered into bits of flying plastic and metal as it hit the far wall, but by then Spike was gone in a swirl of leather, denim and fury.

Lie to him, would he? USE him? Take bloody advantage of his emotions?

Yeah, well, he’d show sodding Xander bloody Harris a thing or two about being used and abused… and his little pissant sub, too.

* * * * *

Elliot lay back on the covers of his friend’s made bed, one arm above his head as he rolled his eyes. “So, wait,” he said for about the fiftieth time, “You KNOW Will. Knew him before last night, I mean.”

Harris sighed and nodded. “Yeah… back in California. He was… not a friend, exactly, but…” he shrugged.

The blond snorted, pausing as he thought he heard the phone ring in his room next door. He’d have to remember to check his messages tonight. He’d skipped doing it earlier.

“R-r-riiight,” Elliot drawled. “He wasn’t a friend, but you based your best and most erotic character on him. Not a friend, yet here you are, almost in love with him. Sure. I can see how that works.” He snorted again.

Harris chuckled a little bit, silently admitting that his friend had a point, although he was afraid ‘almost in love’ might be a huge understatement. For him, anyway. That was why he hadn’t thought twice about offering his neck to Spike the night before. He loved the vampire. Trusted him. Hell, he needed him, and a whole lot of other things that ended in ‘ed’. Trouble was, he was starting to have some doubts about what Spike’s feelings were.

The platinum blond hadn’t even asked him to call, had he?

No, he’d just kissed him hard, squeezed his ass, then sent him on his way with a soft “later, luv…” that had kept him throbbing in his leather pants until he’d been able to fix the problem in the shower.

Harris had thought at the time that Spike meant ‘later’ literally, but… maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had been his way of saying “thanks for a good shag, mate”.

An unhappy blush spread over his body and he sighed. “Well, obviously it DOESN’T work, El. Because where am I right now? Am I bent over his couch, screaming his name or am I sitting in a hotel—a very NICE hotel, but still not Sp-Will’s place—with my agent?”

Elliot laughed. “You know, that’s what he called himself the first night I met him. Spwill. Interesting, huh?”

The brunette closed his eye and rubbed fingers slowly over his own face. “Spike. His name is Spike. Will is his real name, though. Or it was, anyway.”

“Okay,” Elliot said quickly, sitting up. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight—pardon the term.” He winked, glad to pull at least a small laugh from his friend. “You knew this guy back in Cali but you weren’t friends. You just… what? Lusted after him from afar? So when you left for DC you decided to make him a vampire in your books?”

Harris laughed again at the confusion on Elliot’s face. “Something like that, buddy. It’s a REALLY long, long, LONG story. And it’s nowhere near as interesting as you think,” he went on, lying shamelessly. “So just let it go. Call him Spike or Will… he’s still Spark. That’s the short version, okay?”

“Fine,” the blond grumbled, moving to the room’s refrigerator and pulling out a beer. “So you run into him after god knows how many years and have a one night stand, thinking it’ll get him out of your system. I get that. He’s like… your ideal. Nice to get what you want for once, huh?”

Six years, ten months, twenty-seven days, Harris thought. He could probably nail it down to hours and minutes, too, if he tried. But he didn’t want to right then; mostly because he’d already started another count in his head. Time since he’d last touched Spike: “Seven hours and thirteen minutes,” he murmured, shaking his head at Elliot’s questioning look. “Nothing.”

Elliot sighed and took a long swallow of the imported beer. “It must have been one hot night, though… considering how much sex was pouring off the both of you when you left the club. It actually seemed like…” He shook his head. “Didn’t seem like a one night thing, anyway.”

Harris shrugged, trying not to let his friend see how much it bothered him that it apparently HAD been. “I guess it was. For him, anyway. I doubt I’ll ever get him out of my system, though.” He whispered the last.

And ohhhhh… that explained the funk Harris was in, Elliot figured.

He sat back down and patted the bed beside him. “Sit, Harris. You’re fooling NOBODY with that stoicism.” He waited until the brunette was next to him, then Elliot wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re my best friend, Harris, and my favourite former lover. I’ve told you some things about myself that would have sent anyone else running away, possibly while screaming. And you never judged me. You just… listened. Held my hand, sometimes literally. So… talk to me. Let me return the favour. What exactly HAPPENED between you and Will? Because he wasn’t giving off anything LIKE an ‘indifferent’ vibe last night…”

It was a calculated risk, but Harris finally sighed and started talking. He left out the part about Spike being a vampire, of course, and the part about the biting, although Elliot had commented earlier about the “weird hickey”. He spoke of his heart and his body and how they’d been entirely in tune for once… and how he’d thought Spike had felt something similar.

He spoke of his doubts now, since Spike hadn’t even tried to contact him, and how he felt… lost. Left. Abandoned.

And finally… finally he cried, the hot, despondent tears slipping from his one good eye as the empty socket throbbed in sympathy. He hadn’t realized just how hurt he was until that moment. He swore he could feel his heart actually breaking.

Elliot frowned deeply as he stroked the man’s spine. If he ever saw Will again, he was going to kick his ass for hurting Harris like this.

Of course, considering what his friend had told him, there was a chance that Will was feeling just as lost and alone. Hell, the man was probably home crying just as hard as Harris was. If they hadn’t had that stupid signing today, Harris wouldn’t have had to rush off. Maybe they would have made plans or something.

Just as importantly, HE wouldn’t have had to leave Trevor’s bed himself. But that was a thought for another time. Like after he found out what the hell was REALLY going on with his best friend and the sexy blond.