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Title: What to Watch Author: Miss Murchison Rating: PG. Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine. Notes: Written in response to a challenge by Devil Piglet, who wanted stories about Spike and Xander as roommates. Set in Season 4.
Spike sat down on the couch, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV. Xander beamed at the images and raucous conversation that emanated from the set and sat down on the opposite arm of the couch. But even as Xander chortled at the sitcom antics, Spike grimaced and began changing channels. Before Xander could object, Spike came across a show that appealed to him and leaned back against the sofa cushions in satisfaction. Xander was less pleased. "What's this? You turned off Married with Children for this?" Spike didn't raise his eyes from the screen. "It's Random Harvest." "It's black-and-white," said Xander. "It's Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman," countered Spike in a tone that allowed no further argument. There was silence for a full ten minutes, during which time Xander's expression changed from appalled to reluctantly intrigued to maudlin. He was starting to sniff back a tear or two when Spike, who had just lit up a cigarette, reached behind him for a plate poised on a shelf over his head. "What do you think you're doing?" Xander demanded shrilly, all traces of sentimentality evaporating. Spike stared at him in astonishment. "I was trying to be a responsible houseguest. I'm using a bleeding ashtray." "That's not an ashtray! That's a registered Babylon 5 limited-edition collector plate! You're smearing ashes all over Delenn's face!" Spike's eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "Sorry. If I'd realized, I'd have gone upstairs and nicked some of your mum's Wedgwood china instead. Wouldn't want to damage the really valuable crockery." He peered at the plate. "And trust you to go all googly-eyed over that bony-headed bint. Can't imagine that. Not with Claudia Christian on the same screen." Xander had been about to argue, but at Spike's last sentence, his brown eyes went dreamy. "Susan Ivanova . . . " He sighed. "Do you remember when that pilot messed up and she told him the rules for survival on Bab 5?" Spike grinned nostalgically, and a moment later he and Xander were chanting in unison:
They stopped, appalled at their own behavior, and glared at each other in horror for a moment. There was another long silence while Spike stared at the TV and Xander gazed off into the distance—or at least at the far wall. "Remember that blonde telepath?" Xander asked Spike at last. "Do you think she and Ivanova were . . . ?" "Talia? Could have been," conceded Spike. "Ivanova never really loved Marcus, you know." "Ivanova and Talia," murmured Xander to himself. Someone banged at the door, and Xander went to let Willow in. "Hi, guys!" she chirped. "What are you two up to?" "Up to?" said Xander, apparently still half in his reverie. "Uh, nothing. We weren't sitting around talking about lesbians having sex or anything. Not us." Across the room, Spike screamed in agony and grabbed his temples. "What happened?" cried Willow. "Not sure," panted Spike. "But I think I wanted to hit Xander so bad, the bloody chip activated just from the thought."
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Please send feedback to: missmurchison@mchsi.com
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