Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.
Bad Reception
by
Magixa
“Move your fat arse, I can’t see the telly.”
Xander snorted and didn’t move. He banged the top of the television set and roughly pulled the wires in the back. Spike swatted his backside with a newspaper.
“I told you not to fucking fiddle. Now I can see fuck all. Going to miss it you bloody great fool.”
Xander shot him a sharp look over his shoulder.
“Must you swear like a sailor? It’s just a TV show.”
“Passions, Sonny Jim, is not just a TV show. It’s not like that shite Star Trek of yours. Passions is a bloody institution. It’s a way of fucking life and you, twat, are making me miss it!”
“I just wanted to get the picture right that’s all. The fact that you are freaking out about it says more about you than me pal.”
“Yeah, it says I have taste and you quite clearly are retarded. Which is neither surprising nor shocking,” said Spike, getting up and joining him by the television.
“You won’t know how to fix it either. You’re worse with these things than me.”
“I’ll have you know I am excellent in the electronic field. I was around when these bloody things were invented so forgive me if I feel I have more experience in these matters than you. Ok?”
Xander shook his head and gave up.
“Fine,” he said with a flourished bow and stepping aside. “Be my guest, Einstein.”
“Thank you,” returned Spike, now standing in front of the set and frowning.
Xander stood back and folded his arms, waiting for these so-called technological skills to appear.
Unsurprisingly it didn’t happen.
Unless you call hitting it, the way Xander had five minutes earlier, a skill.
“Anytime you're ready Spike.”
“Shut up,” said Spike testily, rounding the machine, kneeling and disappearing behind it. What he was doing back there was mystery. Spike had never been that handy around the house. His intense phobia of doing his own laundry or vacuuming being prime examples. So why he was insisting on doing this was anyone’s guess.
Nevertheless, Xander remained silent, waiting for Spike to re-emerge.
It was when the screen flickered animatedly, and then finally faded into complete blackness, that his long held belief was confirmed.
“How’s that?” said the obscured Spike.
“Oh great. Better than Passions usually is.”
Spike stood and came to stand next to Xander.
“Bugger.”
“That sums it up yeah.”
“Well,” said Spike with a huffy look at Xander. “I hope you’re happy. You broke it.”
“I broke it?” exclaimed Xander.
“Yes.”
“You're the one that made it do that no picture thing.”
“I wouldn’t have needed to do that if you had of kept your hands to yourself in the first place.”
“Hey if I kept my hands to myself, very little would happen for you mister, so less of the complaining. Besides, it’s a crappy television. I think we just put it out of its misery.”
They both glared at the offending apparatus.
Spike exhaled loudly and put his hands in his pockets.
“What now?”
“We could go get another.”
“Does that involve actually going somewhere?”
“It’s a big part of it yes.”
“Then I’m not interested.”
“Spike we can’t do without a TV.”
“Sure we can. Lots of stuff to keep us occupied.”
Spike pulled Xander to him, planting a lingering kiss on the human’s lips. Xander indulged him for a while, bringing his hands up to cradle his annoying boyfriend's face.
“And what about when I’m not here?” asked Xander, ready for the real problem to be dealt with.
“What about it?”
“Well what are you going to do when I'm at work?”
“Uhh…”
“Think about it Spike. No Dawson’s Creek. No X-Box. And, no Passions. Ever again.”
“Erm…I could jerk off?”
“Ok and once those six minutes are up what are you going to do then?”
“Oi!”
“I’m just saying without a TV your options are very limited. Unless you want to try some housework. That could take up a good three or four hours if you…”
Spike was out the door before Xander could even finish the sentence
The End
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