initiative meetings ii
Sep. 20th, 2018 10:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerthat's pretty much where that particular one stopped. the next couple posts under 'blast from the past' (my 'warning, fics in this tag are kinda old) might be, well, a little cringy, just ta warn ya.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU (Torchwood: Aftershock)
Summary: Spike's cellmate is unexpected.
Word Count: 990
Rating: Teen (there's flirting and innuendo and a bit of horror but it's not too bad this time--it is however Captain Xan so.)
Spike/Xander
That struck him as disrespectful and ungrateful. Usually that wouldn't bother him, but this time it did. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't feel the urge to do anything those tossers upstairs wanted him to. He glanced over, memorizing every line of the body which looked like it'd just been tossed in with no regard for the poor bloke's life.
And then the body flailed, a long, drawn-out scream tearing its way from lungs that were barely filling with air. From across the cell, he could hear the heart begin to beat again, sense the warmth quickly returning to the body.
He swore again, this time more in surprise than anger, and rushed over as best he could (it seemed the soldier boys had broken a rib again).
Brown eyes flared open and fixed on his own, as the bloke took great breaths like he'd just been drowned. Eventually, those luscious, full lips parted again, as the panting slowed down, and there was a weak smile.
Then he turned away and managed to toss probably anything the wankers had given him to eat for the past couple weeks.
Eventually, he looked back up wearily, the light in his eyes winking in and out like a dying fire. One arm wiped the mouth with a tattered remnant of cloth. Spike didn't want the pain to continue, because that hope, that light surrounded by darkness, that was beautiful. Like a candle to flame. Alluring. He wanted to feed the flames, bask in the glory and heat and warmth.
"So, you're not Xander. What do I call you?" Safest assumption, really. Probably involved alternate dimensions, too, knowing the Hellmouth.
A wink that left him drooling and his pants tightening. "Captain Xan, at your service. And who's my dashing cellmate?"
"Spike." A knowing leer accompanied those words, and the vampire laughed out loud at that reaction, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. Now all he needed was a good smoke, and he'd be feeling the Big Bad instead of Pathetic Punching Bag before too long.
"It fits you," the Captain acknowledged after a pause. He looked away. And though he'd never admit it, Spike understood that look. What they needed right now was some good old fashioned comfort, not a good shag. That would come later.
He still hadn't beaten the romantic Will out of his head, but supposed he was all right with it, if this bloke was anywhere near as good in bed as he was when just snogging.
"So, immortal I'm guessing. 'ow'd you manage that?" he asked, casually, pulling up a section of wall right next to Captain Xan and leaning a bit into the warmth. Just the touch of shoulders was enough to calm them both down, pulling them into an easy camaraderie and friendship and mutual attraction that felt so wonderful after this long.
A slight, suppressed shudder. Instinctively Spike guessed that the Captain would make some sort of joke about it, like Xander use humor to cover up when something was wrong. He'd only met the donut boy a few times, but he could smell the underlying desperation beneath the goofy antics. Designed, probably, to keep up team morale. He was the mascot.
"Oh, outfits like this just never seem to get enough of me," the man answered, winking. He kept up his skeptical eyebrow, and the bloke sighed. "Seems we both know another version of each other. Otherwise, I don't think the fact that we can read each other this well is natural."
Surprisingly enough, neither of them made a joke or innuendo about that.
"A long time ago, on a space station far, far away, I got captured by experiment-happy goons like this. And they made sure I could never die for long. It's a cool enough party trick, I suppose. Besides the fact that I'm so clumsy it's handy, I suppose." A hint of desperation colored the voice, and instantly Spike understood. Living so long meant that you were always leaving everything behind-or they were leaving you. What non-immortals didn't understand about immortality was that it was, for the overwhelming majority of the time and individuals involved, a curse, not a blessing.
He leaned in slightly with his shoulder, and the bloke took that as comfort. "Don't think I believe that line about you bein' clumsy, mate. Was there for that snog." They exchanged a look that was lust and amusement. It held warmth, but no desperation. "Think I want to see you fight, luv. Bet you fight like a demon."
Xan smiled back. The light was back. Weak, but it was back. "Coming from one, that's a compliment. Anyone else and I'd guess it'd be an insult."
"Never an insult, Captain." The shiver beside him had nothing to do with ambient temperature. "Means you're a beauty. Fight like the wind."
The snort sounded much more Xander-like. "Sorry, I know what you mean, but I just flashed back to years of chop suey flicks."
Spike pretended to be insulted, but the smile told him that he was failing. Not as if he cared, really. He was enjoying the easy banter, the way they just seemed to move in tandem. And this bloke understood him like no one he'd ever met, and had only known him for, what, fifteen minutes? Understood that the Big Bad didn't have to be terrifying all the time, just where it counted. Understood the loneliness, the need for a connection. Even if he came off as a white knight, there was a darkness in there that Spike identified with, and he could understand all of it, even without a conscience.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU (Torchwood: Aftershock)
Summary: Spike's cellmate is unexpected.
Word Count: 990
Rating: Teen (there's flirting and innuendo and a bit of horror but it's not too bad this time--it is however Captain Xan so.)
Spike/Xander
He woke again in his cell, but this time he wasn't alone. The body of the bloke who'd looked so much like Xander was in there with him lying prone. Was he supposed to drink what little was left of the blood?
That struck him as disrespectful and ungrateful. Usually that wouldn't bother him, but this time it did. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't feel the urge to do anything those tossers upstairs wanted him to. He glanced over, memorizing every line of the body which looked like it'd just been tossed in with no regard for the poor bloke's life.
And then the body flailed, a long, drawn-out scream tearing its way from lungs that were barely filling with air. From across the cell, he could hear the heart begin to beat again, sense the warmth quickly returning to the body.
He swore again, this time more in surprise than anger, and rushed over as best he could (it seemed the soldier boys had broken a rib again).
Brown eyes flared open and fixed on his own, as the bloke took great breaths like he'd just been drowned. Eventually, those luscious, full lips parted again, as the panting slowed down, and there was a weak smile.
Then he turned away and managed to toss probably anything the wankers had given him to eat for the past couple weeks.
Eventually, he looked back up wearily, the light in his eyes winking in and out like a dying fire. One arm wiped the mouth with a tattered remnant of cloth. Spike didn't want the pain to continue, because that hope, that light surrounded by darkness, that was beautiful. Like a candle to flame. Alluring. He wanted to feed the flames, bask in the glory and heat and warmth.
"So, you're not Xander. What do I call you?" Safest assumption, really. Probably involved alternate dimensions, too, knowing the Hellmouth.
A wink that left him drooling and his pants tightening. "Captain Xan, at your service. And who's my dashing cellmate?"
"Spike." A knowing leer accompanied those words, and the vampire laughed out loud at that reaction, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. Now all he needed was a good smoke, and he'd be feeling the Big Bad instead of Pathetic Punching Bag before too long.
"It fits you," the Captain acknowledged after a pause. He looked away. And though he'd never admit it, Spike understood that look. What they needed right now was some good old fashioned comfort, not a good shag. That would come later.
He still hadn't beaten the romantic Will out of his head, but supposed he was all right with it, if this bloke was anywhere near as good in bed as he was when just snogging.
"So, immortal I'm guessing. 'ow'd you manage that?" he asked, casually, pulling up a section of wall right next to Captain Xan and leaning a bit into the warmth. Just the touch of shoulders was enough to calm them both down, pulling them into an easy camaraderie and friendship and mutual attraction that felt so wonderful after this long.
A slight, suppressed shudder. Instinctively Spike guessed that the Captain would make some sort of joke about it, like Xander use humor to cover up when something was wrong. He'd only met the donut boy a few times, but he could smell the underlying desperation beneath the goofy antics. Designed, probably, to keep up team morale. He was the mascot.
"Oh, outfits like this just never seem to get enough of me," the man answered, winking. He kept up his skeptical eyebrow, and the bloke sighed. "Seems we both know another version of each other. Otherwise, I don't think the fact that we can read each other this well is natural."
Surprisingly enough, neither of them made a joke or innuendo about that.
"A long time ago, on a space station far, far away, I got captured by experiment-happy goons like this. And they made sure I could never die for long. It's a cool enough party trick, I suppose. Besides the fact that I'm so clumsy it's handy, I suppose." A hint of desperation colored the voice, and instantly Spike understood. Living so long meant that you were always leaving everything behind-or they were leaving you. What non-immortals didn't understand about immortality was that it was, for the overwhelming majority of the time and individuals involved, a curse, not a blessing.
He leaned in slightly with his shoulder, and the bloke took that as comfort. "Don't think I believe that line about you bein' clumsy, mate. Was there for that snog." They exchanged a look that was lust and amusement. It held warmth, but no desperation. "Think I want to see you fight, luv. Bet you fight like a demon."
Xan smiled back. The light was back. Weak, but it was back. "Coming from one, that's a compliment. Anyone else and I'd guess it'd be an insult."
"Never an insult, Captain." The shiver beside him had nothing to do with ambient temperature. "Means you're a beauty. Fight like the wind."
The snort sounded much more Xander-like. "Sorry, I know what you mean, but I just flashed back to years of chop suey flicks."
Spike pretended to be insulted, but the smile told him that he was failing. Not as if he cared, really. He was enjoying the easy banter, the way they just seemed to move in tandem. And this bloke understood him like no one he'd ever met, and had only known him for, what, fifteen minutes? Understood that the Big Bad didn't have to be terrifying all the time, just where it counted. Understood the loneliness, the need for a connection. Even if he came off as a white knight, there was a darkness in there that Spike identified with, and he could understand all of it, even without a conscience.
