Gibson Girls and Butcher Boys (PG)
Title: Gibson Girls and Butcher Boys
Fandom: BTVS/ATS
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Darla/Spike/Drusilla
Setting: Historical/Pre-Series
Summary: "Lovely to see you, Dru. Care to explain why Spike is bleeding next to my bureau?"
Notes: written for the multi-fandom threesome comment ficathon.
April 17, 1906
Nestled between the respectable homes in the best neighborhood in San Francisco, Darla kept a house of soiled doves, champagne, and chance. She had returned to her trade only years before and found that the world's profession had changed little in the centuries. After her sunset jaunt around the park with her poodle and girls, she returned with a bloom in her cheeks to be greeted by the smell of Aurelian blood. She found the source in her room.
Drusilla reclined on the plush fainting couch flipping through a Sears and Roebuck catalog. Looking over, she smiled, "So many pretty pictures."
Smirking, Darla took off her hat as she closed and locked the door. She hung her flowered hat then nodded to the unconscious and bound Spike in the corner. "Lovely to see you, Dru. Care to explain why Spike is bleeding next to my bureau?"
Drusilla set the catalog down with a sigh as she stood, all limbs and serpentine grace. Drusilla shook her head. "My naughty knight. He's vexed me so as of late."
Darla took small steps in her ankle-length Gibson girl skirt before she kicked him with a smartly booted heel. "Wake up."
Spike opened one then the other eye and blinked groggily. "Oi, Darla, fancy being kicked by you here. Where ever here..." He pushed himself upright. "...is."
"You're bleeding on my floor. Notice the view." Darla crossed her arms and tilted her head to get the full measure of the roughly dressed vampire. "I presume it was you who started the riot by the dock."
"Bunch of butcher boys and fish wives. Rougher than the Barbary Coast. Piffle." Spike snorted. "Got bored."
Darla rolled her eyes. "Of course. Dru, darling, you know this one is like a puppy, you must attend to him."
The hurdy-gurdy music began below as the house readied itself for an evening's work. Soon enough the ragtime would play and her overpriced liquor would flow.
Putting her hands on her hips, Darla arched an eyebrow at Spike. "You don't need to make Hearst's papers to get attention. Especially in my city. Save your riots for the mining camps."
Drusilla wrapped her arms around Darla's waist. "Behave and there shall be cake and fireflies in bottles."
"Also whores." Darla leaned her head back on Drusilla's shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment before kneeling and caressing Spike's face. She kissed him, tugging at his cheap collar, feeling it rip. "Or do I need to take you to the woodshed and beat you bloody?"
"Never could resist fireflies.” He smirked. “Have a Faro table down there, then?"
Darla laughed, nodding as she stood, before walking to her vanity to get a brush. "Take that off and get a decent shirt with a proper collar in my wardrobe. Oh, Drusilla, let me arrange your hair. There are pins falling out all over."
Breaking from his bonds, Spike took off his shirt and smiled at her. "Upper crust establishment, you have here."
Drusilla swayed to Darla and undid her long dark hair one pin at a time. "Let us feast and folic before the flames. And, perhaps, I'll borrow the opal ring?"
Darla grinned. "Only if you let me put you in a lovely blue flock. I have just the one."
"Admit it." Spike pulled on a white starched shirt. "You missed us, Darla."
Fandom: BTVS/ATS
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Darla/Spike/Drusilla
Setting: Historical/Pre-Series
Summary: "Lovely to see you, Dru. Care to explain why Spike is bleeding next to my bureau?"
Notes: written for the multi-fandom threesome comment ficathon.
April 17, 1906
Nestled between the respectable homes in the best neighborhood in San Francisco, Darla kept a house of soiled doves, champagne, and chance. She had returned to her trade only years before and found that the world's profession had changed little in the centuries. After her sunset jaunt around the park with her poodle and girls, she returned with a bloom in her cheeks to be greeted by the smell of Aurelian blood. She found the source in her room.
Drusilla reclined on the plush fainting couch flipping through a Sears and Roebuck catalog. Looking over, she smiled, "So many pretty pictures."
Smirking, Darla took off her hat as she closed and locked the door. She hung her flowered hat then nodded to the unconscious and bound Spike in the corner. "Lovely to see you, Dru. Care to explain why Spike is bleeding next to my bureau?"
Drusilla set the catalog down with a sigh as she stood, all limbs and serpentine grace. Drusilla shook her head. "My naughty knight. He's vexed me so as of late."
Darla took small steps in her ankle-length Gibson girl skirt before she kicked him with a smartly booted heel. "Wake up."
Spike opened one then the other eye and blinked groggily. "Oi, Darla, fancy being kicked by you here. Where ever here..." He pushed himself upright. "...is."
"You're bleeding on my floor. Notice the view." Darla crossed her arms and tilted her head to get the full measure of the roughly dressed vampire. "I presume it was you who started the riot by the dock."
"Bunch of butcher boys and fish wives. Rougher than the Barbary Coast. Piffle." Spike snorted. "Got bored."
Darla rolled her eyes. "Of course. Dru, darling, you know this one is like a puppy, you must attend to him."
The hurdy-gurdy music began below as the house readied itself for an evening's work. Soon enough the ragtime would play and her overpriced liquor would flow.
Putting her hands on her hips, Darla arched an eyebrow at Spike. "You don't need to make Hearst's papers to get attention. Especially in my city. Save your riots for the mining camps."
Drusilla wrapped her arms around Darla's waist. "Behave and there shall be cake and fireflies in bottles."
"Also whores." Darla leaned her head back on Drusilla's shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment before kneeling and caressing Spike's face. She kissed him, tugging at his cheap collar, feeling it rip. "Or do I need to take you to the woodshed and beat you bloody?"
"Never could resist fireflies.” He smirked. “Have a Faro table down there, then?"
Darla laughed, nodding as she stood, before walking to her vanity to get a brush. "Take that off and get a decent shirt with a proper collar in my wardrobe. Oh, Drusilla, let me arrange your hair. There are pins falling out all over."
Breaking from his bonds, Spike took off his shirt and smiled at her. "Upper crust establishment, you have here."
Drusilla swayed to Darla and undid her long dark hair one pin at a time. "Let us feast and folic before the flames. And, perhaps, I'll borrow the opal ring?"
Darla grinned. "Only if you let me put you in a lovely blue flock. I have just the one."
"Admit it." Spike pulled on a white starched shirt. "You missed us, Darla."