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mpoetess.livejournal.com posting in
slashthedrabble Feb. 26th, 2005 05:05 pm)
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Wake-Up Call.
Spike/Xander, PG.
Xander's making waffles. The scent drizzles slowly into Spike's cocoon of covers; he lies there baking in it. Warm blankets, warm bread, warm oil on the waffle iron. Xander's voice mangling what used to be a Rodgers and Hammerstein tune. Spike could -- should -- go out and join him. Juice and coffee and maple syrup poured into each little square. He should. Getting up in the morning; it's what people do.
But just another minute, just another chorus. Just waiting for--
Dip in the bed, arms round his waist. Warm, sweet breath on his cheek. "Breakfast is getting cold."
"Let it."
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probablynot hit my Xander-alarm when it went off in the morning, or throw it across the room.