Xander glanced at Anya appealingly. "Help me out."
She shrugged. "He's a Viking in the sack."
"I know," Spike murmured, examining the army fatigues in his hands. "You didn't have these cleaned after the last time, did you?" He glanced up. "What?"
Xander backed away from Anya, his face full of panic. "We didn't!"
"Did. Four times that Sunday it rained. Got friction burns on my –"
Spike smirked. "Why don't you make me? The usual way?"
Anya's eyes narrowed. "Show me."
As Spike sauntered over and dropped, grinning, to his knees, Xander thought longingly of Fort Dix.
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