"God, Xander, what is it? You look like somebody just cancelled Farscape."
"They did cancel Farscape. Last year. This is worse." Xander flopped down onto the couch, heedless of his toolbelt and filthy jeans.
Spike perched on the arm of the sofa and reached out to brush the hair away from Xander's clammy, pale forehead. "What is it, pet?"
"You're going to kill me," Xander said, looking up.
"What for this time?" Spike replied, grinning.
Xander looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap. He sighed. He fiddled with his hammer. He looked at his muddy boots. He stalled.
"Quit stalling," Spike said, tugging on a lock of hair.
Xander sighed again and let his shoulders slump. "You know that note you left in my lunch box?" he began.
Spike sucked in his cheeks and grinned at the same time - no mean feat. "You mean the one about how I wanted to bend you over the back of the couch and lick your..."
"No," Xander interrupted. "The one about how I should remember to pick up cigarettes and Weetabix on the way home."
"Yeah, so? What about it? You did remember, didn't you?"
Xander nodded and looked back down at his hands. "My boss' wife was on the site today, and she saw the note."
"I repeat, so? Your boss knows you're bent, and smoking's still legal in some parts of this Nazi state."
"She wants you to doherdaughter'swdinginvitshmumble."
Spike paused to translate. "She what?" He leaped off of the arm of the couch and stood in front of Xander, arms crossed, toe tapping, face very, very stormy.
"She saw your handwriting, and she wants you to address her daughter's wedding invitations. She was really...insistent." Xander peeked up at Spike through his lashes, hoping to diffuse the situation. "You do have really pretty handwriting."
Spike smothered a smile and kept on glaring. "Did you tell her I'd do it?"
"I told her I'd ask."
"And if I did this, it would be good for your job, yeah? Win you some points with the boss?"
"And you'd be really, really appreciative, right?" Spike didn't smother this smile quite as quickly.
Xander nodded, keeping his own face solemn.
"OK, I'll do it, but I'm not bending you over the couch and licking your..."