Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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Familiar ~ Angel/Xander

Remember that ficathon prompt?


There is no wiggle room between angst and humor. Especially for someone that does not write humor. Ever. *facepalm* I just hope that this doesn't send anyone screaming for meds.

I even went back and reread dinner_date ... and I know that all the laughter in that story came from the bright light that is entrenous88. Not from me.



by Snow
for maleslashminis and elementalv
Prompts are included at the end
Beta’d by lostakasha
Not Mine
Set immediately before Ats 5.1

Not so much with the humor, but I tried to keep away from the angst. Really. I tried.

“I’m not going to discuss this with you, Xander.”

“I don’t think that we’re having a discussion, dead boy. It’s more of an argument.”

“I thought I’d asked you to never call me that again. In fact, I know I have.”

“Whatever. What I call you doesn’t matter, Angel. You can’t change the subject and you can’t deny what you did and why you did it.”

“Watch me, Harris.”

“You can’t and you know it’s true.”

“You are an absolute pain in my ass, Xander. You always have been. From the first day I met you, even between me and Buffy you were-"

“Buffy has nothing to do with this. Buffy is not the problem and now I’m thinking that she never was.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“It is not.”

“It is to me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Name calling, Angel? That just shows how right I am and how wrong you are.”

“You are not. Right. In so very many ways. I didn’t do what I did because of—"

“Deny. Deny. Deny. I know the truth and so does everyone that saw you. What you just did.”

“You don’t know anything, Xander.”

“I know I—"


It could have been anyone walking down the hallway, passing him. Angel had his head full of paperwork and his hands full of files to be read. A secretary followed him, carrying a fistful of phone messages that all had to be returned right now. A list of meetings that started in ten minutes and clients that had to be coddled through another day and if that wasn’t enough, the LA Times had a business section front page article about the change of leadership at Wolfram and Hart. An article that included speculation about how human Angel could be and the state of his soul, nothing pointed of course. Nothing that came right out and said that he was a demon, or a vampire; just enough to ask why and how a PI without a license had become the CEO of such a powerful law firm.

Angel’s cell phone rang incessantly and he didn’t have a spare hand to reach for it when he looked up from the open file balanced on top of the pile. Papers threatened to fall to the floor as Angel skimmed them, a pen between his teeth, and suddenly Xander was there. At first walking right by Angel, then turning to meet his eyes.

Angel stopped short. The girl behind him crowded into his back. He could feel her long, sharp, manicured fingernails through his suit jacket and shirt. Hear her faked concern and question and none of it mattered. Not her startled shout or petulant whine made Angel pull his eyes away from Xander.

How many years had it been?

Broad shoulders, scars that marred the tanned, muscled arms exposed from under a worn, black cotton T. A brown leather patch that covered one eye and longer hair than Angel remembered. The changes gave Xander a rakish, completely different persona.

Angel didn’t notice the papers and files that slipped to the floor.

He’d inhaled. He couldn’t help it. It was instinctual and the scent that came off of Xander was distinctly … very unXander-like.

It was familiar. It was sharp teeth and flashing blue eyes and a wicked mouth. It was family.

It was Spike.

But it was better than simply that. It was the scent of Spike all over a human. It was the taste of Spike’s skin and sweat mixed with heat and hot blood. It was on Angel’s tongue as he opened his mouth to breathe it in one more time, and in the blink of one eye, Angel had Xander pinned against the door to some random lawyer’s office. His fingers dug into Xander’s biceps and his lips were moving on the tiny, invisible hairs on Xander’s neck. Under his jaw, over his collarbone and up, covering Xander’s mouth with his own.

Kissing Xander, Angel’s tongue pushed between Xander’s lips. He forced his way in, searching for … what, Angel couldn’t say. Or rather, he wouldn’t say.


Which was why, now, here in Angel’s office with the door closed behind them both, sealing them off from the rest of the building, Angel chose to do it again. To shut Xander Harris up in the best way he could think of and to sink into that human heat.

Angel kissed Xander again. Angel’s head dipped, his mouth skimmed Xander’s neck, his lips counted the rapid beat of a pulse under tender, too-fragile skin. He couldn’t shake the scent off. If anything, it was stronger here. Closer to Xander’s chest, to his shoulders.

“You’re freaking me out, Angel.”

Angel blinked to clear his vision, to widen his focus.

“Well, at least that’s normal.”

Angel’s fingers did a delicate dance over the top button of Xander’s jeans. Soft pop, another and another and then warm skin under calluses worn smooth over two centuries.

“There is nothing even remotely normal about this.”

Angel drank in the feel of Xander shuddering. A quick intake of breath and for all the manufactured disgust in Xander’s voice, his hips moved toward Angel’s careful, gentle touch. Angel reached lower and wrapped his fingers around Xander’s cock, hissing through clenched teeth at the heat that filled his palm.

Angel moved with cautious deliberation until Xander grabbed his unbuttoned collar and shook him.

“Don’t, Angel. Don’t treat me like Bu--, a little girl. That’s not – that’s not what I—" Xander pulled his hands apart.

Angel heard his shirt rip down the front, buttons fell to the plush carpet and Xander’s mouth was on Angel’s chest. Hot. Wet. Blunt teeth dug into Angel’s skin just under his collarbone. Xander bit the tight skin stretched over the bone and a groan escaped, betraying Angel’s desire.

His fingers twisted Xander’s cock. Everything Xander did, was doing, was designed to wake the demon in Angel. Every touch, every kiss, every bite just there and there. Angel pulled Xander’s T-shirt up, pushed Xander down on his desk, cleared everything on it to the floor. Xander’s arms were over his head and Angel’s mouth sealed to the curve of muscle just above Xander’s ribs. His hand still worked Xander’s cock, his thumb pressed into the slit at the head.

“Just like that, Angel … aahhh…”

Angel left a trail of reddening bruises from Xander’s armpit, over his nipple and down to the raised bone of his hip. Then he flipped him, kept his hand over Xander’s cock to cushion him from the unyielding wood of the desk. Angel closed his eyes as he breathed in the heat that simmered in beads of sweat at the base of Xander’s neck. He pushed Xander’s jeans down to his ankles, unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped his own slacks and grabbed for the slim tube of lubricant in the top drawer.

Xander turned his head at the sound of the cap popping open. His smile didn’t match the emotion that darkened the deep brown of his eye.

“Didn’t ever see you as a Boy Scout, Angel.” Xander’s voice rose. Caught on Angel’s name as two of Angel’s long, slick fingers pushed inside him.

“Didn’t ever think I’d have you over my desk, Xander.” Angel pushed in deeper. He rolled the tips of his fingers over the hard knot inside Xander. He leaned over Xander again, licking the skin over the raised bones and dips of Xander’s spine.

“You weren’t exactly on my list of th-things to do either.”

Angel’s wet fingers pulled free of Xander’s body and went to his own cock. Slicking it from head to base, holding and positioning and pressed over where he’d just been.

“What changed your mind, Harris?” Angel asked, a tremble worked up from his thighs to his shoulders. He pushed in slowly, watched the tight, pink muscles of Xander’s opening widen around the head of his dick.

“None of your business. Just fuck me. Just do it.”

And finally, there were no more words between them. No snarking or arguing as Angel’s cock slid in deep, pulled out, pushed back. Xander’s hands reaching behind, fingers dug into Angel’s thighs and hips, leaving small round bruises that would purple and fade before the sun fell and rose again.

Xander’s back arched, his chin bounced on the thick varnish of the desk. Angel heard Xander’s teeth click together as his thrusts became harder. Faster. The only other sound they made were the matching moans when they came, Angel’s eyes flickered between brown and gold. Xander’s eye was closed. His lips thinned; held tight together to keep inside what he didn’t want shared.

They slid apart. The silence felt awkward. Pants up, Angel balled his ruined silk shirt in his hands. He rolled it tighter, twisted the material until he felt it ripping again.

“I didn’t do that because of him.” Angel whispered.

“Liar.” Xander wouldn’t meet Angel’s stare, wouldn’t look at him at all.

“Like you didn’t come here to see the inside of a building full of evil lawyers.” Angel stood in the tempered light. The sun kept his skin warm and he could pretend, for a moment, that Xander still touched him. Still stood beside him.

“You’re wearing his shirt, Xander.”

“So what?” Xander had already moved to the door.

Xander’s hand rested on the silver that with one turn would let him out of Angel’s office. Put him back in the real world.

“I miss him too.”


You're writing for: Tara Keezer/elementalv

Male character they want paired with Angel: Xander
Things they want in the fic: Incredibly stupid argument (think astronaut vs. caveman), reference to a vampire in mass media (book or television), at least one kiss in front of the wrong witness
Things they *don't* want in the fic: Wuv, twu wuv; angst
Preferred maximum rating: NC-17
Is comics canon okay?: yes [not required]

Tags: angel, angel/xander, fic, maleslashminis, xander
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