No one's sure how long Spike's been living at Xander's. It's not really something to comment on, because it's not like Spike has anywhere to go and Xander doesn't seem to be complaining. In fact, Xander often seems better, happier with Spike in his apartment -- but Willow doesn't mention things like that because in Sunnydale 'jinxing' is not an idle threat. Every once in a while, Buffy or Giles will mention things like weirdness or propriety but Xander just looks at them blankly until they stop.
No one looks at Spike. He's been different, ever since Buffy finally shot him down and he understood that it didn't matter who started it or how it was being stopped, so long as it was. Willow likes to think of it as his growing up period, but that wigs her out just a little too much.
He is changing, though. It's easy to see when the two of them go to the Magic Box, although Willow's not too sure if anyone else has noticed. It's the little things that get to her, things that she picks up on that no one else is really going to notice. Like Xander, who's always tactile and if he's got 'permission' he's downright bad-touch extreme. He doesn't mean it like that, hell, he doesn't even think about it -- exhibit Jesse, who never understood that no, Xander wasn't coming on to him even though he always had a hand on Jesse's shoulder, or around his waist, leaning on him at odd moments.
Kind of like he was with Spike, now.
Spike never comments on the touches. Willow's pretty sure that, like Xander, he's not really aware of them. The specifics of Xander leaning over Spike's back to grab something from the shelves is lost to Spike, the presence of Xander a comfortable familiarity. Of course, Spike does position himself far too close to Xander, sometimes, but since that also shows up during patrol, Willow doesn't comment. Okay, so sometimes it looks like hovering and god forbid either of them get hurt -- she's not sure which is worse, the snarled insults or the ultra-gentle caretaking -- but she's pretty sure it isn't a bad thing. Just ... a thing.
Willow's never known how much of a thing until now, though.
She and Tara have been living together for a little over a year now. There's supposed to be a routine by now, an unconscious knowledge of where the other person is and what they'll need, so as not to disturb them or ... something. It's all over the movies, the way long-standing couples have this dance-like pattern of never being in each other's way or hogging the bathroom or otherwise acting like normal people. Willow's always wanted that kind of intimate knowledge and spent over a month telling herself to get over it. That she doesn't have it doesn't hurt anymore.
That Xander and Spike do is just boggling.
It'd been late enough last night that Willow had accepted the offer of the couch for the night. She wakes early, her body accustomed to an alarm that is probably going off in Tara's ear right now. She's tucked up under a pile of blankets, though, so when Xander's door cracks open it's easy to pretend that she's still asleep.
"Hey. Why'd you sleep on the floor?" Xander hauls Spike onto his feet as he speaks, absently pushing a curling lock of hair off of Spike's forehead and running his fingers through the rest.
Spike shakes his head irritably, but there's a long-standing familiarity to it, as if he knows it's not going to stop Xander and it's only habit that makes him repeat it. "Witchling was on the sofa, what was I gonna do, tell her to get off my bed?"
"You could've got some blankets, maybe. Or, here's a wild and wacky thought, took the other bed. You know, the one in the room with no windows?"
Spike finally shakes Xander's hand off his head, his glare weak and petulant with sleep still in his eyes. "Piss off. You know I hate sleeping there. Sides, floor is comfortable enough."
Xander shakes his head. "You are a strange person, my friend. And don't say vampire. It's just lame." He heads into the bathroom, Spike muttering under his breath as he angles towards the kitchen.
Pretty soon, the apartment is filled with the sound of running water, clinks and clanks, and the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee. Willow remains on the couch, trying to figure out just what is going on, when both boys appear again.
Xander, wrapped in a towel and his hair dripping wet, exits the bathroom in a cloud of sandalwood-scented steam. Halfway to the kitchen he's intercepted by Spike, who bears a mug of coffee in his hand. "Cereal, today," Spike says. "Didn't want to cook with Red still asleep." His fingers trail down Xander's arm as they pass, thumbing off a droplet of water. Xander is too busy sipping his coffee and sighing contentedly to notice.
"Cereal's fine. Did you put sweet'n'low on it?" he asks, puppy dog eyes clearly audible even if Willow can't see much of it.
Spike snorts. "No, I didn't put that cancerous crap on your cereal. Banana."
Xander's 'ew' face is equally as audible. "Ew!"
"Eat the sodding banana, Xan. Tastes fine and it's better for you than granulated tumors."
The argument is old and familiar and trails off as Xander begins to eat his breakfast and Spike takes his turn in the shower. Spike takes long enough that Xander washes up and dresses long before the water turns off. Then there's another long silence Xander fills by turning on his computer to check his email.
"I've got a meeting," he says the moment Spike exits the bathroom, fully dressed.
Spike makes an annoyed noise, leaning on Xander's back and shoulder as he reads the monitor screen. Willow can just barely make out black-nailed fingers doing something with Xander's collar -- she kind of dreads to know what it is. "With that fat arse from Siemens?"
"Make a comment on what that name sounds like ..."
"Hush." This time it's obvious that Spike's pulled a lock of Xander's hair in reprimand. "Time'll you get back?"
"How can I answer that and hush at the same time, huh? And sixish, if it doesn't go too late. I'll call."
"Better. And oi, stand up."
Willow is treated to the absolutely unbelievable sight of Spike tying Xander's tie and fussily straightening it. It startles her so badly that she barely notices as Spike mentions checking on something and disappears out the door, presumably to the sewers since, well, daylight.
She's still staring when Xander sits on the sofa beside her, curling her hand into his. "I feel like I should probably say something," he says. He's not looking at her, but this is old, familiar ground, now. This is just Xander.
"Does he know?"
Xander's grin is fleeting and beautiful. "I have no idea. I'm kind of not interested in finding out, you know? It's ... good, like this."
Good in ways Willow knows it never had been with Anya, the many fights echoing painfully with Xander's childhood. She grips Xander's hand tightly, nestled among blankets that smelled like the soap Spike had used. It's an illuminating experience and she's glad that she's the first to know. Well, okay, not to know, but to be told. The difference means a lot to her. "I'm glad," she says.
Xander kisses her cheek and stands up. "He's gonna fuss, since I've got this hellish meeting, which means he's going to cook. I recommend staying. If you can put up with being ranted at, the freebees he lets you taste are worth it."
"He cooks?!"
Xander just smiles, looking happy and content as he heads closes the door behind him. Willow stares at it for a long time -- and then slowly starts to smile. Xander may be okay with leaving things status quo, but she's pretty sure that Spike isn't. Since she's got no classes today ...