Xander lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
He doesn’t smoke, but when Spike’s breathing evens out and finally stops before he lights up a cigarette it’s all so beautiful cliché that Xander just has to take a drag when Spike offers.
He didn’t cough the first time and the smoke stopped burning in his throat after the third time they did it and both of them know Xander doesn’t like smoking and he has no idea why Spike lets him burn one cigarette after the other to ashes without complaining once and he doesn’t want to think about his own motivations. Doesn’t see a point in worrying about it.
So he just lies there, naked, a sheet pulled halfway over his lap because he still feels exposed lying next to Spike but mostly he’s too relaxed to do more then just pull on the sheet and sometimes, when it hasn’t ended up on the floor and Spike lies on top of it he growls and throws it at Xander, playfulness twinkling in his eyes and they smile at each other before lying back down to rest.
Sometimes Xander feels the need to roll over, snuggle up to Spike, arm draped over the blond’s chest, leg entwined with Spike’s, pinning him where he knows he can’t hold him, hoping without actual hope that maybe... maybe...
But Xander stopped believing in maybes a long time ago.
And sometimes Spike rolls onto his side, looks at Xander looking at the ceiling and Xander tries to keep his eyes from flickering and knows he’ll lose in the end, anyway.
When he looks at Spike the blond rolls his eyes, says something like “Shove over” and cuddles up to him, his chest against Xander’s back, an arm around Xander’s chest, fingers softly stroking over his collar bone and his face buried in the nape of the brunette’s neck, softly inhaling the salty smell of his sweaty hair.
Xander doesn’t sleep when that happens, just lies there, trying to seem relaxed so he won’t scare Spike off, counting the strokes of Spike’s fingers, twitching every time Spike lays a sleepy kiss in his neck or his shoulders.
It’s after-sex cudling and it’s sweet and tender and so full of loss and heartbreak that Xander can’t help but think of how it will be when Spike finally decides he’s had enough of him.
He doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t ask about tomorrow or about next week or about anything after that because he knows if Spike would ask him the same he couldn’t answer it. They just don’t talk about it.
There’s a lot of things they don’t talk about and when they do there are more gaps than anything else.
Xander talks about school and his friends without mentioning the Slayer, the monsters and vampires and everything else that has made his life interesting in the past year.
Spike sometimes tells him stories. If it is to impress him or simply gross him out, Xander doesn’t know and doesn’t really care.
He loves to hear Spike’s voice even when he’s describing the color of entrails and the sound they make when they fall to the floor.
Not all stories are like that, but more often than not they are and Xander’s thankful that Spike’s mostly talking about demons he fought, not about humans. He thinks it’s because, as a vampire you don’t earn a reputation by killing humans. It’s simply too easy.
But he doesn’t say it out loud.
Xander still meets Willow every now and again so she doesn’t feel left out.
Mostly they meet in the evening when it’s already dark or will be, soon.
They go to the movies together or eat ice cream and Xander can feel Willow’s look on him when he’s been quiet for too long but he doesn’t offer and she doesn’t ask so they talk about the unimportant things in his life, like school and what they want to do after it.
They don’t meet often during the day because that’s when Spike’s stuck in the motel so Xander’s there with him. Not every day but almost.
He knows, every time he walks up to room 23 it could be empty and Spike could be gone and each time he pauses before he opens the door, tries to brace himself for the sight of an empty bed and feels the tension drain out of him when he sees Spike smirk at him from where he lies sprawled on top of the covers.
It’s almost dark outside now.
Spike moves and Xander feels those blue eyes on him.
Tries not to react, not to look and not to reach over and just grab and kiss Spike but it doesn’t take long till he can’t avoid looking at Spike any longer and glances sideways.
“Can you stay?”
Xander nods an they reach for each other again and Xander loses himself in the promises Spike makes with his hands and lips wherever he touches Xander and breaks with his eyes whenever his gaze slides over Xander’s face and stops before meeting his eyes as if afraid he’d do or say something stupid if he’d look too long.
They fall asleep afterwards, not quite cuddling but not really separate either and before Xander can think of an excuse for his parents why he didn’t come home – again – he’s snoring softly, Spike’s fingertips running over the spot behind his ear that always makes him hum in contentment.
When he wakes up in the morning sunbeams are tickling his nose and red spots are flashing behind his closed eyes and his body knows he’s alone in bed before his brain registers that Spike opened the curtains before he grabbed his things and went off to wherever he came from and somewhere deep within Xander is thankful that he won’t have to open the door and be confronted by an empty room but that everything he has to do is walk out of here and leave whatever they had this summer behind.
Ten minutes later he’s asleep again, head buried in the pillow that still smells like Spike.
End.