*****

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
A gauntlet with a gift in it.
~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"You think we should call him again?" Xander had his head stuck round the edge of the velvet curtain, gawking out the window, so Spike was being treated to a view of his husband's jean-clad backside. It *was* a treat, no matter how many times he'd ogled it -- but he still felt the need to chide Xander for his silliness.

"Luv, you called him ten minutes ago, and he was halfway between here and Sunnydale. They're not likely to be pulling up the drive anytime soon."

"That sports car's fast. You never know."

Spike stood up from the sofa, and tossed his copy of last month's _Demon Lovers_ aside. "Unless you had it equipped with a tesseract when you gave those Knobloch Beasts the specs, it's still gonna take him at least forty-five minutes to get here. Come on and sit down, Xan."

Xander's face appeared from behind the curtain, looking twitchy and confused. "One of those wrinkle in time thingies?"

"So you *have* read at least one novel in your life."

"Does it count if Willow read it to me?"

"Depends on if you listened," Spike allowed. "Er, and how old you were -- I don't think I want you being corrupted with grown-up stories when you're a tyke." Spike frowned at his husband, glurble. Then he blinked and tried to remember what the point of the conversation was. Right. Trying to keep Xander from giving himself a heart attack from too much bouncing.

Xander was grinning, and walked over. Bounced over. "What if I was? You gonna call her up and scold her? Because I wanna listen in on the extension."

"So's you can hear her laugh at me," Spike guessed.

"Yup." Xander nodded, bounced, and went back towards the window. "I bet if--"

He'd just get jumpier, staring at the empty drive below. Spike lunged forward, grabbing him by the back of the collar. His t-shirt collar, not *that* collar. Spike had to remind himself again, why he couldn't just suggest Xander go put *that* collar on -- and nothing else. Not now. Later, maybe. Ten seconds after Giles left. He sighed. It was hard, having to be the sane one. "You can manage to wait forty-five minutes, can't you?"

Xander cocked his head to one side, and looked at him funny. "That sounds so bizarre, coming from you."

Spike flipped him off.

Xander laughed and stuck his head past the curtains, again. "Giles *is* a spell-caster. He might've...done something. Spelly."

"Not since the last time he tried putting a spell on the Mustang, and it turned into a *real* one. Anya screeched him up and down the block, for making her arrive at La Cerise on a horse. Especially in high heels."

"The horse was wearing high heels?"

Spike got the feeling, somehow, that Xander wasn't paying complete attention to him. "No, Giles was wearing high heels," he said a bit irritably. The couch springs squeaked as he flopped back down on it. Xander didn't respond. After deciding that irritating, or being irritated by, his husband was infinitely more entertaining than Miss-or-Possibly-Mr. February, Spike looked up at Xander's arse again. "You get this excited waiting for *me* to get here, when I'm gone?"

There was a small rustle in the curtains. "When are you ever gone?"

"You saying I should go away more often?"

He allowed a small sniffly sound to creep into his tone, mixed with a liberal dose of 'We've been married for three weeks, and you're already tired of me?' His only answer was the sight of Xander's behind, still bouncing. Granted, it was *still* a nice view. But it was a facing away from him view, and Xander was just *not* cooperating with the distractionary techniques.

Spike sighed, actually meaning it this time, and looked around for something else. "Could take the kids for a walk." There wasn't a response from Xander, for a moment. Just the bouncing of his arse, and muscles under the denim making Spike think very grumpy thoughts about the need for waiting.

"Huh?" Xander was looking at him, again. Confused, again.

Spike sighed, louder. "Christ, d'you listen to anything I say?"

His husband looked honestly startled, for a second, and Spike was about to start apologizing and swearing he hadn't meant it that way and was there anything he could do -- when Xander grinned, and stuck out his tongue. "Nope. Why would I? It's your turn to take the kids for their walk, anyhow."

On the upside, Xander *did* come over and sit down on the couch next to him. Both knees started bouncing.

"Should hook you up to the mattress, have my own jiggly-bed."

Xander looked at him clearly for a moment. "That sounds good. Handcuffs or ropes?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm not tying you up; you'll just rub off on the mattress, and what'll I get out of it?"

Xander blinked. "Um, duh?"

Spike shook his head. "Come on -- we talked about this."

"We did? We talked about you tying me to the bed?"

He honestly sounded sincere. Like he couldn't even concentrate enough to be aggravating Spike on purpose-- which was almost insulting, somehow. "We talked about waiting. And if you don't relax, I'm gonna tie you to the coatrack. With your hands over your head, and a pitcher of ice down your trousers."

Xander's bouncing knee stopped still, for a moment. "You think that would work?"

"Probably not. 'Sides, I don't want you to get frostbite. I'm the only one allowed to bite you down there."

Bounce. Bounce. "Down where?"

"In Australia, where the upside down people and the kangaroos live. Xander, stop that, or I'll... I'll..."

Xander grinned. "You'll what?"

"I'll get Cordelia in here to come up with a threat that you wouldn't actually enjoy."

"She's out. With Lorn. Hotel's empty. Nyah nyah boo boo."

"So you're familiar with current events, then; you just can't concentrate on anything *I* say."

"Were you saying something?"

Spike flipped him off again. Then he flipped the page from Mr./Ms. February, and started reading the advert for penis-enhancing cream on the reverse side, just for something to do. "I can't believe you're selling this muck, Xander," he muttered, frowning. "Increases your ejaculation by eight hundred and fifty one percent? I'd be blowing holes in the wall. Or, er, in you. Who the hell tested this stuff?"

"Forgwath Demons." Xander held his jitterbugging hands out, about a foot and a half apart. "They use it on demolition crews. Anyway, it's not for use by humans or humanoid demons. Read the fine print."

Spike peered at the tiny words underneath the clip-out coupon. "No humans, vampires, tax accountants, or people of elfin descent need apply. Arrives in a plain brown wrapper with the words 'Not Penis Cream' stamped on it in large, bold letters. Xan, this mag worries me sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Er, well, doesn't worry me when I'm actually looking at some naked... er... humanoid." Spike flipped through the pages again. "Which there aren't any of, this ish. What's up with that?" he asked, as though he really cared.

As though he *looked* at the pictures in _Demon Lovers_ in order to see nakedness, demonic or otherwise. He should probably be worried about reading a skin mag mostly for the articles, but he'd always been rather easily satisfied. Spike realized that sounded bad, and was glad there was no one in his head to hear him. What he *meant* was that seeing Xander in various states of not-dressed, dressed, partially dressed, costumed.... Xander was all he needed. Glurble.

Spike closed his eyes and tried to re-focus on the problem at hand. Namely, one glurble who was going to kick a hole in the floor with his foot, if he didn't stop with the bouncing. "What's with all the slimy ones this time?" he repeated. It was worth a try. Anything to make Xander slow down and think, instead of vibrating himself into another dimension.

"Our readership is only 21% human, and 14% humanoid. Over 52% of the sentient life forms reading the magazine have tentacles. And 72% --" Xander stopped babbling, as Spike placed a hand over his mouth. So much for slowing down.

"But I'm your most important reader, and *I* want naked humans."

Xander's hand flew to his shirt.

"No! Not-- damn, what am I saying? Right! No! Xander--"

"You said you wanted a naked human. As president and owner of the magazine, I feel it's my duty to make sure my most important reader is happy."

Spike scowled. "If I thought you stripped off for any bloke or blokette who asked you...."

"Oo! How about a staff issue? See all your 'behind the scenes' personnel in their birthday suits."

Spike looked at him in disbelief. "You really wanna see your CFO naked?"

"Stephanie? I wouldn't mind. She looks a bit like Tawny Kitaen."

"If she ate a wildebeest, shaved her head and painted herself green, maybe."

"You're thinking of Furglenox. He took a job with R & D last year." Xander frowned at him. "When's the last time you came up to the office?"

"Since you told the security guards to shoot on sight?"

"That was just if they saw you getting naked in the lobby."

"Well, if you'd take longer lunches, I wouldn't have to get ready on the way upstairs, would I." Actually, it *had* been a couple of months since he'd been to see Xander at work, mostly due to wedding plans being in full swing, and Carla having banned him from the premises when she caught him snooping round her office for some sign of what Xander was planning on getting him. Or anybody else's pressies -- Spike wasn't picky. He looked up, to see that Xander's *eyes* were bouncing now, too. Great -- what had he said now? "Xan?"

"Getting ready? We could do that, right?"

Spike almost felt sorry for Xander. Almost. "Do you really think you could hold out if we started getting ready now? You've already had two showers -- what else is there?"

Xander looked worried-confused for a moment. Then he started to brighten. "The room--" He cut off, and he scowled. "Which we cleaned up within an inch of its unlife, yesterday."

Spike nodded, as if commiserating. Yesterday morning had started off normally: getting out of bed an hour after the alarm had gone off, and licking Xander's back until he relented and called in to work. Spike hadn't mentioned that he'd told Carla that Xander was taking the week off *after* their honeymoon, as vacation time. After they'd finally dragged out of bed, Xander had commented on possibly changing the sheets -- which had led to a panicked "Oh my god where is Giles going to--" and they'd spent the next several hours cleaning. Well, Xander had.

Spike had whined, of course, because they lived in a hotel, for god's sake. Why not just borrow a room? He'd even suggested they use a room far away from the Terrible Trio's suites, after Xander thumped him on the head for suggesting they *use* his Sire's digs. Half the videos in Morrie's "re-creation" series were shot in an exact duplicate of those rooms, he'd pointed out at first, with professional actors replacing the Zoo Crew. Why should it make any difference if *this* video were shot there? Who'd know? But he'd been duly bopped, because *Giles* would know, and then he might not do it, and did Spike want to ruin Xander's wedding gift?

He'd actually been smart enough, for once, not to answer back with his first thought, which was that it was *his* wedding gift too, wasn't it? -- because Xander had been just antsy enough to threaten him with not sharing, if he pushed his luck. So Spike had simply suggested an empty room at the far end of the building, and ducked the oncoming whap. By the time he'd realized there wasn't going to *be* one, just a "No, I wouldn't feel comfortable there," Xander had been bouncing around their own suite, cleaning like that Heloise chit on overdrive. And was Spike going to complain if Xander did most of *his* housekeeping duties too, in a fit of hyperactivity? Well, yes, but only to draw attention away from the fact that he wasn't actually working.

But now, of course, there was nothing to do, and Xander was bouncing more than ever. "We could watch telly," Spike suggested, reaching for the remote.

"No porn flicks," Xander said, throwing himself down beside him.

Spike pouted at him, and got whapped for it. He turned the set on and blinked. "Who was watching the HGTV channel?"

"Er--" Xander said, and wriggled. Spike watched, reminding himself he shouldn't make Xander wriggle again. "They mightabenamumamun."

Eyebrow raised, Spike looked at his husband, who was now steadily *not* looking over at him, and blushing slightly.

"What was that?" Spike asked.

"Nothing. Change the channel."

"No, I want to hear this. Either you're hiding something from me because you want to surprise me later -- or it's embarrassing. Both of which mean I want to know." Xander glanced his way, then stuck his tongue out at him. Spike whipped his hand out and caught the tongue, before Xander could pull it out of the way. "Now what are you going to do?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Uh-muhwah wah."

Spike let go. "What?"

"How can I tell you, if you've got my tongue?" An evil glint appeared in Xander's eyes. "Wanna grab my tongue again?"

"Er, no. Not sure I trust you." Spike leaned back against the couch and looked at the telly. Some woman was talking about gluing paper to chairs. He looked over at Xander again. "Decoupage? You were watching a show on decoupage?"

Xander rolled his eyes. Or bounced them in a rolly sort of way. Spike held one palm beneath Xander's chin, just in case they decided to bounce clean out of his head. "No, dork. I was watching a special on 'Feng Shui for Your Fishtank.' Figured we could redecorate the new tank, so the kids don't get all jealous and moody when the babies hatch." Then he frowned. "How do you know what decoupage is, anyway?"

"How do *you* know?"

They glared at each other for a moment, before Xander asked, "Wanna change the channel?"

"Yup."

"Wanna forget we had this conversation?"

"Yup." Spike's fingers sought out the familiar buttons for BBC America.

"Re-run," Xander announced.

"It hasn't been made since 1989; of course it's a bloody re-run."

"Yeah, but I saw this last week. See that tunnel? There's a Dalek inside, and they get rid of it by throwing something over its eyestalk."

"Could you narrow that down for me a bit? That happens about once per Doctor."

Xander frowned at the screen. "Oh. This *is* a different one. Last time it was his granddaughter. This time it's the girl with the fake American accent and the tiny bikini top." He bounced a bit more, in tandem with the contents of said top, and Spike shook his head.

"If I switch the channel to Blue's Clues, will that turn you on, too? Or is it just interior decorating and robots with phallic bits sticking out of them?"

"Hey! I never said the Dalek was turning me on." Spike just glanced down at Xander's crotch. Xander shifted, and tugged at his jeans. "Well, maybe Bikini Girl. Or possibly the Doctor. How about you change the channel?"

Spike thumbed the 'channel up' arrow, and they landed on Nickelodeon. Some cartoon or another was playing -- Spike could cheerfully and honestly say he did not know which one. For at least thirty seconds.

It was 'Bullies and Puppies'. Spike carefully didn't say anything out loud -- but he did wonder if he didn't need to spend less time at home during the day.

"Spike?"

"Yes?"

"Can we change the channel again?"

"Don't tell me little Annie Grable is turning you on." He pointed at the cartoon eight year old girl, giving the two-dimensional boys the what-for. When he didn't get an answer right away, he looked over. Xander was staring at him. "What?"

"Annie Grable?"

"Well what am I *supposed* to watch? The kids get tired of 'Animal Planet' all day, and PBS doesn't make shows for young fish."

The corner of Xander's mouth twitched. It twitched again.

"Do it, and die, you...human."

Xander laughed.

Spike reached for him, then stopped. "You're just trying to provoke me."

"Is it working?"

"No. I'm a grown vampire, secure in both my adulthood and my masculinity, and I can watch cartoons all day if I want. So there. Not like you don't watch 'em when you get home."

"Not Little Annie Grable."

"I like her. She's spunky." Spike refused to look at him, while he laughed.

"Spun..."

"Shut up." Hee. Chortle. Bounce, bounce, as the couch shook with Xander shaking with laughter at Spike. "I get no respect around here."

Snort. "I respect you, Spike. Hee. Really." Giggle. "I mean, how could I not? You're all spunky, and everything."

Spike hit him with a pillow. Xander laughed and wrestled the pillow away. Not that Spike didn't *let* him have the pillow, because there was another one right behind him, to grab. He did so, and whapped his glurble with it. Xander hit him back.

Several thumpings later, Spike realized this was *not* helping with the 'wait til Giles gets here' plan. He pushed Xander off him, and watched with only a little guilt as Xander landed on the floor, on his ass.

"What was that for?" Xander asked, not sounding really perturbed.

"Er, commercial. Gotta change the channel." Spike aimed the remote at the television. He ducked out of the way of the flying pillow, and clicked upwards to something new. Disney?

"Children, children of the night.... what sweet, sweet music they make..."

Xander threw a pillow at the tv. "Off! Off now!"

"It's really not a bad movie, all things considered, Xan."

"He made me eat *bugs*. He does *not* deserve a Disney movie about him. Turn it off."

Spike dutifully flipped the channel, though he suspected Xander was really just trying to avoid having to hear him hum the "Crunchy beetles, squishy flies" song all afternoon. Xander hadn't kicked up a fuss when Spike had filled Queen Victoria in on his adventures with Drac in days of yore, after all.

"Wonder if they have Disney movies about me, in Victorian-world," Spike pondered, as Steve the Crocodile Hunter filled the screen.

"They don't have *movies* in Victorian-world," Xander scoffed.

"Do. Read it in the guidebook. They're just all released on the internet, so there's no TV aerials or picture houses about to spoil the atmosphere."

Xander looked over at him, a disturbing grin splitting his face suddenly. "So...we could sell some of your Mac-edits there, couldn't we?"

Spike sat up straight. "Oo, yeah! I could film the Spike and Xander show, and slip it across to Mum, and dork-me can get humiliated in homes all across England."

But Xander was shaking his head, and Spike could see the gleam in his eye. "No. I mean... Well, yeah, let's embarrass Dork Spike all we can, sure. But the entire *line*. We could...." Xander leapt off the couch. "I need to call Marty!"

Marty was the were-hamster in charge of marketing for the side-line items, besides the actual magazine. Spike watched Xander head for the phone -- wondering why it had taken him this long to put two and two together, and also glad that the phone call would keep Xander distracted for at least--

"Okay! He's on it." Xander came back and sat down.

Spike blinked. He glanced over at the phone -- had Xander got into some time-bending spell he wasn't sharing?

"Channel, Spike!" Xander said in a tone that meant he was serious, this time, and if certain vampires didn't want to eat their blood with Cheetos, they had better do as they were told.

Spike pouted, but changed the channel again. So far they'd managed to waste almost ten minutes. Not bad, if he said so, himself.

"Spike."

"Er, what?" He looked around, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong *now*. He'd changed the channel, like he'd been asked. Then he saw what the show was -- Baywatch, South America. "Sorry."

"Change the channel!"

"You know, this thing has great plots -- all sorts of danger and drama, and--" He gave his husband another pout, after he'd been whapped. But he changed the channel again.

Dogs. Whatever it was, it was a show about dogs. Spike set the remote down. Xander seemed to relax, next to him, and even leaned back against the couch.

They managed to sit there for almost two minutes before Xander started vibrating again. "Xander, I really think you should've told me *before* we got married, if Airedales spin your crank."

That got him another pillow in the face. "You really are disgusting. Why did I marry you again?"

"For my money," Spike replied, deadpan. Xander laughed. "Oi, don't mock -- Giles still owes me half that haul from the Initiative vaults. If you're nice to me, I'll buy you a puppy when he gives me my cut. Maybe even an Airedale, long as you promise not to molest it."

"The kids would get jealous." Xander bounced up and bounced over to the fishtank, and stood in front of it, bouncing. It was making Spike want to take some Dramamine, at this point. "You think Gomer's lonely?"

Spike stood and walked over to join him, studying Gomer as she swam happily around by herself in the smaller tank, occasionally pausing for a nibble on the airline of her personal bubbly diver. "Nah. She's fine. It's just til the eggs are laid, anyway, so the others don't eat 'em. Then she can go back in the big tank."

"Maybe we should give her another bubbly diver," Xander said, in a thoughtful tone.

"What for?" Spike got off the couch and headed over. "She's got-- oh. Fast, isn't she?"

"I think she's been eating more, lately. That's good, right? Well, if the eggs need plastic, to grow." Xander put his hands in his hair, and made a sound like he was being strangled. "Spike, I'm not gonna make it. Not gonna, not gonna, gonna go insane!"

"Insaner?" But Spike reached out and took his husband's arm. "Come on, Xan. Come sit down and we'll turn on CNN. That'll distract you."

"No, no, don't wanna," Xander dragged his feet as Spike tugged him towards the couch.

"Xan, now, you *know* it's for the best." Spike didn't quite cheat and use his super strength to haul Xander back to the couch.

"But I'll start yelling at the tv, then I won't *want* to...um. OK, I don't think even CNN could get me out of the mood."

"We can try it, at least."

"Try what?" came a voice from the doorway, and Xander screamed and was out of Spike's grip before Spike could even complain about some people with sensitive, delicate, vampiric hearing being deafened.

"Giles!"

A smaller man, Spike reflected, might get jealous, to watch his sulky husband jump up and greet another bloke with a smile so bright you'd think the sun was shining out of Rupert's trousers. Spike, however... Well, all right. He was a *little* jealous, but it was all in a good cause.

Besides, he wasn't the only one. "So what am I? Finely ground organ meat?" Anya stood in the doorway, hands on hips, as Xander bounced over to Giles, started to give him a hug, then suddenly backed off, looking sheepish. Or possibly shy. Bloody hell, it was a bit late for *that*.

Xander grinned at Giles, then made his way over to Anya, whom he *did* hug, exuberantly. "An, you're the finest ground organ meat I've ever had the pleasure to know in the biblical sense," he said, as he let her go.

Giles looked at Spike. "He's gone completely barmy, hasn't he."

"Oh, since about eleven last night. Kept me up all night begging me to sing him lullabies to get him to sleep, then interrupting every time I got into one, to tell me how they weren't helping."

Xander looked back at him, one arm still around Anya. "Spike, you were singing make-out songs. 'Do That to Me One More Time.' 'Slow Hand,' for God's sake."

"Hey, you weren't complaining when I made it into an audience participation song." He hadn't been about to let Xander go *that* long without -- he didn't want to clean bits of exploded husband out of the carpet.

Xander just looked at him defiantly for a moment -- then stuck his tongue out. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have let you know we were coming up, today," Giles said thoughtfully.

Xander's eyes went wide, as if Giles were saying they *weren't* coming up today, which was flatly ridiculous, since here they were. Spike suspected his husband wasn't thinking clearly. How could he, though, since all his blood had gone south hours ago, and stayed there since?

"Next time, we'll know better," Giles continued, smoothly, and Xander made a squeaking sound that Spike was *definitely* not jealous of, but Xander had better make that sound for him sometime, or he'd...be mad.

"Next time?"

Spike thought maybe all the mice in the baseboards had heard him. And only the mice. Well, and super-sensitive vampires, of course.

Giles coughed, and looked nervous. "Er, a figure of speech. That is--"

Spike had seen the expression on Xander's face before; it was the look he got when he opened a present and couldn't decide if he really, really liked it, or was rather afraid of whoever'd gotten it for him -- which was usually Spike. Once again, Spike had to think it was a little late to be sending this one back. What was he going to exchange it for, anyway? Store credit?

"That is, if it ever happens again, *I* get a cut of the gross," Anya said. "Running the camera for free is all well and good for your wedding gift, but after that, if I'm putting in the work, I expect to get part of the pay."

Spike wasn't entirely sure why she *was* running the camera -- Skippy could run itself, and they had enough minicams to do a variety of angles. Xander had explained to him that Anya needed to feel like she was participating, without actually...er...participating. It was only fair.

Right, Spike had replied as they'd sat in bed after Xander had got off the phone with Giles several nights ago. He got the fair part. But why couldn't she just er-participate? Not like she hadn't done it before. Xander had just turned an interesting colour, and said that it wasn't the same thing at *all*, and would he please get back to biting Xander's ear, like he was supposed to be? Spike was of the semi-private opinion that his husband was a few apples shy of a barrel, but he was willing to put up with it for the great sex and the fact that Xander never teased him about his squirrel phobia. Well, hardly ever.

He hadn't asked, but still wanted to know, how *his* sitting in the room and not being allowed to touch anyone, was fair and participatory. He'd figured he was the chaperone, to make sure that...well...what could possibly happen that wasn't supposed to? Spike shrugged, not for the first time. "So, er, perhaps we should get started? Otherwise we'll all just stand around acting awkward, until Xander explodes from sheer frustration."

Giles half-grinned at Xander, who looked like he was about half a second away from doing just that. It made Spike want to throw him down someplace and have his way with him. Except he couldn't. Not this time.

"Suppose I should show you where the set-up is," Spike said to Anya. Not that he wanted to leave the room, but the sooner they started, the sooner they'd...be started.

Anya looked surprised. "Oh, I know where it is. I came by last week and checked it all out. Cordelia showed me all the controls and I'm certain I won't have any questions."

"Oh." Spike blinked. Princess knew how to run Skippy? That could be very, very dangerous. Of course, it wasn't like they got up to anything that she wouldn't figure out sooner or later anyhow. The point was more what she might *do* with whatever footage she acquired. Nasty things. Embarrassing things. Things like Xander calling him pookie-butt, and Spike not hitting him for it. Shudder. He didn't want to think about it. Instead, he asked Anya, "Right, anything you need, then? Popcorn? Peanuts? Tissues?"

She stared at him. "Spike, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a girl."

"Oh. Right. No tissues, then."

She patted her handbag. "I meant, I carry my own. I won't turn down the popcorn, though."

"I'm just going to stand over here and pretend I'm not hearing this. Is that all right with everybody?" Xander asked, moving towards the window again. He poked his head past the curtains and looked down at what Spike assumed was Rupert's car, parked in the courtyard below. "Just, you know. Let me know when it's safe to come back from the state of denial."

Spike saw Giles giving Xander a worried look, but Giles made no effort to go after him. Well, of course not -- that was Spike's bailiwick. Spike went over and put his hand on his husband's back. "You know, we could play cards all afternoon, pretend nothing else was ever going to happen."

Xander looked at him. "Are you *insane*?"

"Er--" Apparently so. He knew better than to try to follow Xander's train of thought. "You just...seemed to be having second thoughts. Phrases like 'state of denial' and all."

But Xander shook his head. "That's because everyone's standing around and talking about it. I feel like I'm at a staff meeting. I--" He glanced down, glanced over at Giles, then looked at Spike again. Very quietly, he said, "Spike if you don't *want* to do this, it's OK. *You* can go somewhere, come back in a few hours after they're gone--"

"*What*?"

Xander looked confused. "Um, not it? Because...you don't seem real excited about this." He pressed his fingers against Spike's stomach, but Spike realize he meant something else. A bit lower.

Spike grinned. "Oh, that." He'd almost forgotten. If he *had* forgotten, there would've been one really unhappy Princess when she got home from her date, since it was her idea. He walked over to the liquor cabinet, and pulled out a small bottle. Xander followed him, still wearing that doubtful look.

"Spike, if you have to get *drunk* to go through with this, maybe we shouldn't do it at all," he said quietly.

"S'not booze," Spike replied as he uncapped it. He drank it down in one swallow, grimaced at the cough-medicine taste, then grinned again. "It's the antidote to that fairy-dust her highness put on us for the wedding. And let me say, I'm bloody glad we let it wear off naturally at the reception, because *this* stuff tastes like crap."

Xander blinked at him. "You mean you...let somebody put that de-lusting spell on you again?"

"Wes, yeah. Before he left this morning."

"Why?"

"So's I could concentrate on keeping *you* under control!"

Xander looked torn between laughing hysterically, and, er, fainting hysterically. "*You* voluntarily let yourself not be turned on, not under orders from Cordy?"

"It was her idea, but she didn't say I had to."

"Heh..heh..bwaha--- hey! Wait a minute! Why didn't you share it with *me*?"

Spike looked at his husband sideways, to see if he'd make any more sense from that angle. "Where's the fun in *that*?"

Xander whapped him -- big surprise, there. Spike could hear Giles trying to stifle laughter, behind them. Xander was grinning, and Spike suddenly felt much better. "So, you're not... not okay with this? You like?"

"Like, hell, Xander, I'd been bouncing off the walls harder'n you if my balls hadn't been put in a sling."

All the tension seemed to run out of his husband's body. "I thought, maybe...I should've said no. Except you never said I should and you *talked* like you wanted to but then you kept moping around."

"Git."

"Moron," Xander retorted.

"Wanker."

Xander grinned, and he looked totally evil. "Not exactly." Spike shivered. "Er, so - can we start? Are we ready? Any other last minute crises we should deal with?" Xander was back to almost-babbling, again, and it would only be another moment before he was bouncing off the ceiling.

Spike knew he was probably asking for trouble, but he sighed, and asked, "You sure you want me in here with you?" Taping or not, Xander might prefer to pretend he didn't have an audience.

But Xander's pole-axed expression said otherwise. "Not want...Spike, I can't do this without you with me." He looked -- again -- like he was worried Spike would back out. Really worried.

"Easy - I'm not goin' anywhere. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't rather..."

Xander shook his head, rapidly. He moved very close to Spike -- close enough that Spike could fold him into his arms. Never being one to miss an opportunity, Spike did. Xander whispered into his ear. "You get that I'm scareder of this than Anya is of Peter Cottontail, don't you?"

Spike pulled his face away from Xander's a bit, just far enough to be able to look in his eyes. He mentally rewound the day's events, putting the bouncing and the grinning and the inability to string two coherent sentences together into *that* perspective, and realizing it still worked.

He wasn't about to ask Xander whether *he* really wanted this gift -- he'd been over the moon since he opened the envelope, and that was almost a month ago. Besides, it would just lead to another round of silliness while Rupert and Anya looked awkwardly at each other and pretended they couldn't hear, and that antidote worked a hell of a lot faster than the 'leave it to wear off' method.

Xander noticed that about the same time Spike did. "Guess you don't wanna go sit with Anya and eat popcorn, then, huh?"

"No, and I guess you don't wanna play poker all afternoon. Come on, Xan. Let's..."

"Get this over with?"

"All that anticipation and now you want it *over* with?" Spike leaned closer again, and took his last opportunity to do a little illicit touching.

"Well, maybe I meant, started."

Spike pulled away, ignoring the little noise of protest, and they both turned to face their guests. Anya waved at them over her bag of microwave popcorn --Spike hadn't even heard the bing. He was about to ask her if he could have half the bag. Just to see the look on Xander's face, or maybe to get himself whapped, for the sheer normalcy of it. He didn't, though, as he glanced over and saw the look on *Giles's* face. Tolerantly amused, in a way that made Spike want to whap *him*.

"You might've discussed this before now, you do know," Giles remarked.

*****