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Turkeyby WesleysGirlRating: PG Angel/Gunn/Spike/Wesley/Xander Written for Thanksgiving 2003. "I don't like turkey," Spike said, and there was more than a hint of a whine in his voice. "No one likes turkey," Xander corrected him, pulling his hand back out of the oven without burning himself -- joy! -- and shutting the door again. "Then why -- " Xander cut Spike off before he could finish the question. "Because it's a tradition. And because even though nobody likes turkey, everyone *does* like gravy and stuffing and mashed potatoes." "And cranberry sauce," Angel said helpfully, from the spot on the couch where he'd sat his ass two hours ago with a book and that vague expression that said 'Nope, look at me, too stupid to help.' "Nobody likes cranberry sauce either," Xander lied. "Actually, that stuff's not half bad." Spike got up from his crouched position in front of the fridge, three beers clutched in one hand, the necks splayed slightly like some crazy alcoholic starfish. He handed one bottle to Xander and then moved into the living room and gave one of the others to Angel. "Please tell me you're not saying you didn't get cranberry sauce?" Angel said. Xander shook his head cruelly. "Do I need to remind you who did all the shopping in this little holiday scenario? Or that neither of you was willing to even *help* me make a list? You had your chance to weigh in on the menu, you chose not to. Ergo, no cranberry sauce." "But..." Angel looked almost petulant. "it's the only part of the whole meal that, you know..." "Falls from the can in exactly the same shape it was processed into?" Xander lifted the lid off the big pot and stirred the potatoes, then twisted the top off his beer and took a swig. "That's *red*," Spike said, from right behind him. One arm snaked around his waist, and then Spike's tongue slid up the edge of his ear, giving him goosebumps. "Like blood." "Yeah. It's the only thing that's the right color," Angel mumbled from the other room. "Okay, you're both turning a perfectly wholesome, traditional meal into a freaky sideshow, you do know that, right?" Xander realized that this probably wasn't a rhetorical question. Spike snorted. "Whole thing was your idea in the first place, love." He gave Xander's ear another lick and then headed into the living room, throwing himself down onto the couch next to Angel. Xander heard the tv come on, then a familiar song, and stuck his head into the room just in time to see Joel and the 'bots gasp. 'Theater three thousand,. It's thirty straight hours, and it's called Turkey Day.' "Thirty hours is more than a day," Angel said, like it was some kind of revelation. "Don't mock MST3K," Xander said, grinning at Spike, who'd turned his head to meet Xander's gaze. "Poor Angel," Spike said, reaching out and ruffling the big guy's hair, which made Angel squawk and slap at Spike's hand. "Just doesn't appreciate the finer things in life." Angel glared. "Mystery Science whatever is *not* one of life's finer things," he said, trying to grab the remote control out of Spike's other hand. Spike glanced over his shoulder again and tossed the remote in Xander's direction. Xander hadn't been expecting it and tried to catch it with his left hand -- since his right was still holding his beer -- but missed, and it clattered onto the floor. The back hatch, none too secure to begin with after many similar tosses and landings, popped off, spilling the batteries out. Xander sighed, bent to pick them up, and put his heel firmly down on one of the AAs. He had time to register the bruised sole of his foot just before the world tilted sideways and gravity redeposited him firmly on his ass. "Ow," he said. Strangely, the beer was still clutched in his hand and hadn't spilled. Strong hands were on his upper arm. "You okay?" Spike asked, crouched next to him on the floor. Angel was on his other side, and between the two of them they pulled him back to his feet, guiding him toward the couch. "I'm fine," Xander said. "But my ass may never be the same." "Isn't that what you said the other night?" Spike's smirk was the kind that you either wanted to smack off of him or kiss off of him, and Xander settled for the latter. Firm lips and a tongue that tasted like hops. Mmm. "You sure you're okay?" Angel asked, running a hand down Xander's side. Xander nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." "Well, you sit there for a while and, you know... rest your ass," Angel said, with a little smile. "I'll keep an eye on the food." Just then, the front door opened and Gunn and Wesley came in. Wesley was rubbing his hands together -- they were in the middle of a cold snap -- and Gunn was carrying a paper bag under one arm. "Hope you appreciate us freezing our butts off out there just because you forgot the gravy," Gunn said, peeling off his hat and throwing it over into the corner on top of the boots. "You could always bring your frozen ass over here to join my bruised one?" Xander suggested hopefully, patting the couch beside him. "Do we really want to know how you bruised your ass?" Wesley asked, eyebrows raised. "Spike made him fall," Angel said. "That's right, blame Spike for everything," Spike said, crossing his arms over his chest. "S'always my fault." "Well really, most of the time it is," Wesley said. He'd taken off his shoes and grabbed the bag from Gunn, and now headed toward the kitchen. "What did you do this time?" Xander shook his head. "It was me and Angel's faults too. And can I just say how much I *don't* like being blamed for forgetting the gravy? Because someone else could have helped too." "You were the one who wanted the big Thanksgiving meal," Gunn said, coming over and sitting down next to Xander on the couch. "I would have been happy with some pizza rolls and a few hours of Grand Theft Auto." "But that wouldn't be Thanksgiving," Xander said. At this point he was starting to think maybe he shouldn't have bothered with all of this, since everyone was just giving him a hard time about it and he was the only one who seemed to care. "If we're going with tradition, I'd be tied to a chair with some Indian bloke shooting arrows into me," Spike said. "That could still be arranged." Angel had an arm around Wesley's waist and a wooden spoon in his other hand. "Well, except for the Indian guy thing." "There's Mr Patel at the corner store," Xander said, patting Spike's knee. "I'll bet if we paid him enough, he'd be willing to shoot, you know, crossbow bolts or something." "There, see? Tradition's bad. Don't like tradition." Spike pouted. "Nah, it's cool." Gunn seemed to sense Xander's uneasiness. "We're all here, got all our body parts -- might as well be thankful for that." "And for cranberry sauce!" Angel called from the kitchen, where he'd obviously found the two cans that Xander'd stashed in the fridge. On the tv, 'Cave Dweller' was just starting. Wesley came over and stood behind the couch, resting one hand on Xander's shoulder. The smell of roasting turkey was strong in the air. Xander grinned. Turkey, the sequelby WesleysGirlRating: PG Angel/Gunn/Spike/Wesley/Xander Written for Thanksgiving 2004. "Damn," Gunn said, slouching back in his chair and unbuttoning his jeans. "That was one hell of a meal." Xander sighed blissfully, wondering if he could eat another bite of pie without bursting. " Thanks. Yeah, it wasn't bad." Angel, who'd had three glasses of wine and maybe one bite of each of the things on his plate, smiled. "It was great. Even better than last year." "Don't know how you think you can judge," Spike said. "You hardly ate anything." "I don't eat," Angel protested, frowning. Wesley leaned forward and put his hand over Angel's, his thumb stroking the back of it lightly. "Let's not start that again," he said, giving Spike a look. Spike took a defiant bite of pumpkin pie. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I'm happy enough to eat his share." Xander, who didn't care if Angel ate the food or not, as long as he was there, nudged Spike's knee with his own under the table. "Eat what you want. It's not a contest." "It's not?" Gunn asked. "And here I was hoping I'd won." "Yeah, Charlie here ate more than the rest of us combined, I think," Spike said, regaining some of his good humor. "Good. At least I won't be the only one needing to buy the next size up in pants next week," Xander said. He was mostly kidding - he'd hardly had time to eat over the past couple of days, he'd been so busy getting stuff - and stuffing - ready, so today's huge meal just evened things out. "Could just go around without any pants," Spike said, pushing his now-empty dessert plate away. Xander laughed. "Why does it not surprise me that that's your suggestion?" "Because you know him very well," Wesley said. He'd scooted his chair closer to Angel's. "Yeah," Xander said, looking at Spike fondly. "I do." Later, there was more wine, and some brandy that Wesley bought, and a lot of lounging around. Cleaning up had taken a good hour, even with all five of them helping. The others had told Xander that they'd do it, but sitting on the couch while they were in the kitchen didn't seem very Thanksgiving-y, somehow, and he'd ended up having a water fight with Gunn at the kitchen sink. "Comfortable, love?" Spike asked softly, running his fingers through Xander's hair. Xander nodded against Spike's thigh. "Mmm." "Is anyone else as in danger of falling asleep as I am?" Wesley asked from the other couch, where his head was cushioned on Gunn's lap and his feet were resting in Angel's. "Nothing wrong with a little nap on Thanksgiving," Gunn said gently. "There is if you've got other things in mind," Angel said, sliding his hand up along Wesley's leg suggestively. Xander glanced up at Spike, then rubbed his cheek against Spike's thigh. "Let me guess," he said, tracing his fingertips over the bulge in Spike's jeans. "You have other things in mind, too?" "Yeah," Spike said. "But I'm evil - I've always got other things in mind." He bent down to kiss Xander, who heard a soft moan from the other couch at the same time Spike's lips pressed against his. "Happy Thanksgiving, love," Spike whispered. "You, too," Xander said, and grinned. End.
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