Fic: A Moment That's Held in Your Arms (Xander/Pike)

[allyndra]

Long, long ago (about two weeks ago) in a galaxy far, far away (California), sublimatedangel had a birthday, and I asked her if she would like a birthday fic. She asked for some domestic Pike/Benny or Pike/Xander. It took me a ridiculously long time to write this short little story. I foolishly kept trying to write it from Pike's POV when it wanted to be written from Xander's. Amy, I'm sorry this took so very long, but Happy, Happy Belated Birthday!!!

Title: A Moment That's Held in Your Arms

Author: Allyndra

Pairing: Xander/Pike (you know, from the movie)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I have been planning my skillful theft of these characters from their rightful owners, but so far the laser beams keep tripping me up. For now, they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox. 
Summary: Pike's shift at the garage had ended at 6:30; he should be home soon. Follows Question to the World.

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The wall was cool and hard behind his back and Xander could hear the neighbor's TV through it, but he had no desire to move over to the slightly ratty sofa. He was comfortable here, sitting crossways on Pike's bed with a guitar in his hands. His legs were crossed at the ankles, his feet dangling over the edge. He liked it here. The mattress was soft under him and the sheets smelled like Pike. He wondered if there was something to aromatherapy after all. He wondered if he could get Yankee Candle to make him a Pike-scented candle for his own room, which never felt quite as much like home as this little apartment did. 

Xander strummed a stumbling chord and looked at the clock radio that sat on the bedside table. The glowing red numbers told him it was after seven, and since Pike's shift at the garage had ended at 6:30, he should be home soon. Which was good, because Xander wasn't really any better at waiting now than he had been as a child, jumping up and down and pestering his mom to know if it was snack time *yet*. He'd just gotten better at faking it. As proof of that, he fumbled his fingers into a new position on the frets and didn't jump up and down at all. 

He nearly did jump when the door opened. It was irritating, that he could have been waiting for Pike's entrance for the last hour and still be taken off-guard by it. Xander dropped his pick, but he was distracted from looking at it. Much, much more fun to look at Pike. He looked tired and disheveled, his blue work shirt dirty and rumpled and his fingers stained with grease. Xander thought it was probably a sign of perversion that that always made him want to climb up Pike and rub against him until the grease was gone from Pike and painted all over Xander in dark smears and fingerprints. He was surprisingly okay with being perverted. 

"Hey." Pike smiled at him, his tired brown eyes warming with pleasure at seeing Xander. Xander didn't need a mirror to know that his own face had just lit up like someone had offered him a million dollars and a plate of cookies. At least, that was what Willow had told him he always looked like when Pike showed up. And since she'd occasionally offered him plates of cookies, he figured she would know.

"Hey," Xander replied. "Rough day at the office?" he asked lightly. The lightness was completely premeditated; he hated Pike's job. Or more accurately, he hated that Pike had to have a job. He knew it was a financial necessity, but it didn't stop him from jealously watching the hours eaten up by the garage, hours that Xander didn't get to share. 

"I can't complain," Pike said mildly. Xander suspected Pike knew how he felt about the job, and that the mildness was just as calculated as Xander's lightness. "We got a couple bikes in today, and Jim let me take them myself."

That was big. For the last three months, Pike had been trying to convince his boss that he didn't need to be supervised on basic motorcycle repairs. No matter how he felt about sharing Pike with the garage, Xander would have to be a pretty crappy boyfriend not to realize how much this meant to Pike. 

"That's great!" he said sincerely. "About time he let you do more than follow the leader."

A smile trickled across Pike's face, curving his lips and smoothing the crease between his brows. "It felt good," he admitted. "I think I'll be flying solo a lot more from now on." Xander kept grinning stupidly at him as Pike shrugged modestly and started emptying his pockets onto the coffee table. 

"I'm gonna clean up," Pike told him after he'd sorted his change from his keys. He gave Xander a look that peeked through his eyelashes and made him look young and shy. Like he was really a teenager and not a mechanic, after all. "You sticking around?"

Xander rolled his eyes. As if he would hang out here for hours and then bail when Pike finally got home. "I'll hang," he assured him. "Go take your shower."

Pike went. Xander could smell the Goop all the way in the other room as Pike scrubbed the grease off his hands before his shower. The acrid scent used to make his nose wrinkle up, but it was familiar now, just part of the olfactory landscape, like Buffy's vanilla lotion or Willow's gum. He picked out a few notes on the guitar, filling up the quiet until he heard the shower start. Then he let his hands go slack and his eyes drift closed as he waited, listening to the patter of water in the other room and the dim sound of car chases and commercials from next door.

When Pike emerged from the bathroom, damp and clean and accompanied by a cloud of steam, Xander opened his eyes lazily to take in the sight. Pike was watching him from the doorway, his eyes soft with affectionate amusement.

"So that's how it is, huh?" he asked, approaching the bed. "You just come over here when you need some rest."

Xander grinned as Pike climbed up onto the bed. "You found me out," he said as Pike scooted closer. "I only want you for your bed." He set the guitar aside and pulled Pike in for a kiss. 

It was a long, sweet moment before Pike pulled away to say, "If you expect me to be upset that you only want me for my bed, you might have forgotten who you're talking to." He smiled mischievously. "I'm a teenage boy: I hear 'want' and 'bed,' and basically, I'm happy."

Xander had to laugh. He also had to kiss Pike again. Unfortunately, the two didn't go together as well as romance novels would lead one to believe (not that Xander would ever admit to having read the public library's entire collection of Harlequin romances for their value as soft-core porn during junior high), and Xander had to stop laughing in order to kiss Pike with his lips rather than his teeth. This time the moment was longer and shifted from sweet to hot halfway through. It would have gotten even hotter, if Xander hadn't banged his shoulder on the guitar when Pike pressed him down against the mattress. 

"Sorry, sorry." Pike pushed himself up and away from Xander, his mouth red and his still-damp hair tousled. "You okay? Is the guitar okay?"

Xander sat up. "We're both fine, thanks for asking," he said, rubbing his shoulder and casting an assessing eye over the instrument. It wasn't damaged, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't a fancy or expensive guitar, but he knew Pike couldn't really afford to replace it right now. Pike reached across Xander's body and picked up the guitar, running long fingers over the curves of the belly and up the neck. Xander wondered if the guitar liked the feeling of Pike's hands as much as Xander did. He wondered if there was some kind of support group for people who envied things like garages and guitars, or if he was the only one who ever felt that way.

Pike struck a chord, nodding at the sound. "You tuned her," he said, more an observation than a question. "Your ear is getting better." Xander ducked his head so Pike couldn't see the completely ridiculous flush that climbed his cheeks every time someone praised him. "Have you been practicing?" Pike asked. Xander gave a half shrug, half nod that meant 'Yes, but not very hard,' and Pike held the guitar out to him. "Let's hear it, then."

Xander took the guitar, but he didn't settle back against the wall like he'd been earlier. Instead, he wriggled and shoved until Pike was leaning against the wall and Xander was leaning against him. Pike's arms went around Xander's waist, so that his right hand was pressed flat between Xander's belly and the belly of the guitar. Xander sank back against Pike and fit his left hand around the neck, concentrating on getting his fingers into the right places. He didn't know where the pick had fallen, but Pike handed him a spare, so losing one must not have been a very big deal. 

He played slowly and awkwardly, but he played. He could feel the vibrations of the notes through his hands, through his thighs. Whenever he made a mistake, he expected Pike to correct him, but Pike's hands stayed steady around his waist, and though Pike's chin was hooked over Xander's shoulder in the perfect position to watch and instruct, half the time when Xander peeked at him, Pike's eyes were shut. 

Between school and Slaying and Pike's job, they didn't get a lot of time alone like this. Stolen moments making out in the stacks at the back of the library and shared patrols through the graveyards weren't exactly Xander's idea of a perfect relationship, but times like this made up for a lot. 

Pike was warm and comfortable behind his back, and Xander could hear soft breath in his ear, and he had no desire to move ever again. He strummed his way through his repertoire, thinking that if he could have this sometimes, he could share Pike with the garage and the Scoobies and the whole world. It he could have this sometimes, he could do pretty much anything. 

Pike nuzzled his ear, and Xander fumbled his chord. Anything that didn’t involve musical talent, anyway.

Comments

[allyndra.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you like it! I really enjoy Pike and Xander together, so I'm thrilled to know that other people are enjoying them as well. And I would love to be friended. Thanks for you comment!