"IEEE!"

Thunk. Splash.

With a sigh the revenant once known as the Headless Horseman put aside the razor edged sword he had been polishing and took up the long handled net by the door instead.

/Why,/ he wondered, making his way bare foot through the large house he shared with Icabod Crane, /why, if he hates spiders so, won't he allow me kill them?/

He opened the bathroom door and, ... smirked. Icabod stood in the lion footed bath, curtain clutched in white knuckled hands, shower cap askew on his head and eyes as wide as sauces locked on to the thing that menaced him from the other end of the tub.

The fearsome spider balanced upon the pump handle, legs wavering un-decidedly, wondering what all the noise was about.

Amused the Horseman extended his net, snared the arachnid and headed for the door.

"You won't kill it, will you?" Icabod asked with concern.

"No, I won't kill it," his rescuer assured him. Spider in hand (or rather, in net,) he headed towards the garden, but paused when at last he reached the outer doorway.

This spider looked familiar. Surely he had removed this very beast from the parlour just the other day? It certainly looked like it.

Why shouldn't he kill the thing here and now, stop it from returning to plague the house and upset it's owner? Icabod need never know the spiders fate, he could still happily believe it was out here amidst the roses, doing its job of catching pests. He need never know....

The Horseman knew his mortal lover was waiting for him now, waiting to hear the report on the release of his hairy tormentor into the wild. Once, the revenant had believed Icabod simply didn't like the mess left by a squashed bug, but observing his lover elbow deep in a dissected cadaver had challenged that idea.

No, nothing was ever that simple with his Inspector. Crane was a complex and beautiful man, it would probably take several lifetimes to fully understand him. Luckily the Horseman already had a head start, with his unwanted revelations from Hell to draw on, and the other memories. Briefly, as the slave of the wicked Lady Van Tassel, he had been amongst the undead, and able to read Icabods thoughts.

It was those memories of the Inspectors strange compassion that eventually led the Horseman to believe Icabods reluctance to kill spiders was more about his sense of justice than his squeamishness. A spider was simply being a spider, why should it die merely because he was afraid of it?

If it wasn't for that strange compassion, how could the mortal man have seen past his own fearsome visage; the sharpened teeth, wild hair and other worldly eyes, and come to love him? He couldn't.

So the Horseman had a lot to thank the spider for, when he thought about it. It taught a lesson of his lovers heart.

With care he released his eight legged prisoner into a white rose bush and set it free. He smiled as he watched the spider immediately begin to weave its web.

He should leave this kind of mental dissecting to the Inspector, he supposed. Icabod was the more introspective of the two of them. /But I want to know him, to find out why I love him. Each time I learn something more, I love him more./ He gave the spider one last appraising look, then retired into the house.

Icabod had gingerly lowered himself back into the water, and had become pink with the heat of the water. The Horseman couldn't resist walking round behind him and sliding a hand round to his lover's wet and slippery waist, stroking the skin softly, making his love shiver and squirm.

"Mission accomplished," he murmured into his neck, nipping playfully at the skin, then soothing it with his tongue.

"Mmm, my hero...."

"My love slave...."

Icabod laughed deep in his throat, amused by the endearment. The Horseman smiled and licked his ear.

"Finish your bathing my love. I have something for you, when you're done." He kissed the top of the scratchy wet bathing cap Crane wore before adding, "I'll be in the bedroom." His smile widened, he was already aroused by the anticipation of waiting for Icabod to come to him.

Anticipating the moment he began unlacing his tunic as he stood, but Icabod caught his sleeve and pulled him back down for a kiss

/Mmm, so this was love./

Bath caps and spiders and sex in a tub. Icabod pulled on his arm insistently. He climbed in fully clothed and pressed himself against his naked lover. Icabod's eyes were black with desire as he arched up to meet the contact. Before long wet clothes had joined the rapidly expanding puddles of water on the floor and the two men were moaning together urgently.

Oh yes, this was love.