Eaten by Weasels (eatenbyweasels) wrote in ebw_buffyslash, @ 2008-03-22 18:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | 12, humour, spike/xander |
Your Usual Table, Mr Spike. 12
Written as a little birthday silliness for violethamster.
Your Usual Table, Mr Spike
The corkage at the Horbling Haemorrhage might be a bit steep, but Spike can’t fault the standard of service. He allows himself to be ushered courteously to his favoured position in the corner of the restaurant, out of sight of the cage of scared, shackled humans who constitute the plat du jour. He could wade in and pull out his pick, but he knows he’s too good a customer for the staff to select him anything but the most tasty victims. What really makes this place for him, though, is the way the staff cater for his chip, deftly nicking the jugular of the meal as it hangs by the feet above Spike’s table, then quietly disappearing to let Mr Spike suckle the beast dry.
The smell of human terror escalates as Spike hears the cage door open and close again. He smiles and stretches back in his chair for a leisurely cig while his meal is prepared for him.
“I think you’ll find tonight’s offering most satisfactory, Mr Spike.” asserts the smartly-dressed waiter, as he returns and hoists a stripped, scrubbed human up to dangle in its shackles from one of the many hooks in the ceiling. “ Moist and delicious, according to the human itself. I took the liberty of stunning him for you, Sir, on account of him proving a little ……. disruptive.” he adds, with a playful slap to the creature’s backside. “ The human slurs a string of sleepy curses - most of which throw into doubt the parentage of the entire vampire species. Spike’s eyes fly wide open at the all-too-familiar voice and he grabs the human by the hair to get a better look at its face.
The waiter coughs discreetly. “If Sir is ready to eat……?” he enquires, brandishing his cut-throat razor in anticipation.
Spike grins to himself. He can think of a far better way to enjoy a nice, naked, helpless Xander Harris than as a cosy little dinner. He pulls his wallet from the pocket of his jeans and slaps a generous wad of notes on the table.
“Changed me mind, mate. I’ll have this one to go.”