Acceptable Losses: Chapter 5/?
Title: Acceptable Losses
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Summary: Spike and Angel are making a go of it after returning from Hell in Angel: After the Fall. Unfortunately, being a single vampire dad living with your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and Journalism major son makes Hell seem almost preferable.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Five :: Pound for Pound
“I’m getting fat.”
Angel looked up from his paperwork to see Connor sitting at his desk holding up a metal button.
“I sat down, and the button just popped off my jeans,” the young man looked somewhat perplexed and frustrated. “Do I look fat?”
“Last time I tried to answer that question,” Angel began, never taking his eyes off the scattered forms in front of him, “Spike nearly broke my jaw.”
Connor made an annoyed sound and tossed the button in his desk drawer. “How could I have gained so much weight? I mean, sure, work has been a bit slow, but I’ve been patrolling.”
Angel quirked an eyebrow, “It could have something to do with what’s in your lunchbox.”
“What do you mean?” Connor took the white box from his book-bag and lifted the lid. It was overflowing with a triple-decker sandwich, a small bowl of salad, a beautifully prepared fruit tart, and a little bottle of Italian soda.
“Spike may only know how to make things that can be shoved in the microwave or poured out of a box, but he’s never over-fed you the way the twins have been,” Angel mused.
Reglisse and Pistache were the daughters of French bakers and demanded to be in the kitchen during any moments they weren’t training. Spike was grateful for a reprieve from cooking, but the twins were insistent in the preparation of three course meals along with a bevy of cakes, pies, and other assorted tempting snacks. Even Angel found himself sneaking treats when no one was looking. The food was beyond delicious, but the skyrocketing grocery bill was troubling.
“I guess I have been eating a lot more than normal,” Connor’s brow furrowed as he tucked the lunchbox back into his book-bag.
“You’re not fat,” Angel replied, placing his paperwork into a manila folder.
Connor leaned his elbows on his desk, watching as Angel returned the folder to the large filing cabinet, “Are those from the Handleman case?”
The Handlemans had been plagued by a poltergeist since they had moved into their new condo, but through some research and literal arm-twisting Angel had discovered that the poltergeist was actually a pixie controlled by the condominium’s landlord who used tenants breaking their leases due to unexplained ghostly activity as an excuse to keep their security deposits.
“Yeah, they paid their account in full, and we’re in the black for the month,” Angel said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice.
“Not bad for a new business… Well, a new old business,” Connor placed his feet up on his desk in a proud-of-himself posture. There was a sudden knock at the office door. When Connor got up to answer it, he turned to his father with a laugh, “If it’s more Slayers, I’ll tell them to go away.” Opening the door, Connor said with a jovial tone, “Welcome to Angel Investigations. If you’re helpless, we’re helping.”
“I hope that’s not seriously the tag-line Angel’s going with,” the petite blonde woman in the doorway said.
Angel’s head whipped up from the filing cabinet. He stammered, “… Buffy?” before slamming the drawer shut on his hand.
Using the apartment’s living room as a gym was equally convenient and inconvenient. Spike had moved all the furniture save the couch and the coffee table into his and Angel’s bedroom. He wasn’t much for rhetoric and memorized martial arts poses; Spike encouraged the Slayers to find their own fighting style.
The girls were sitting in the floor in their gym clothes and bare-feet, waiting to find out what they would be working on today.
“Now, you’ve got on your comfy clothes, but remember that when you’re out in the field, you never know what you might be wearing. You have two choices when it comes to that problem- Either always wear comfortable clothes and shoes, or learn to fight in whatever you’re wearing,” Spike spoke. “Take me, for example. I always wear jeans, boots, and my jacket. I’m comfortable in that. I might be less comfortable in, say, a tight-fitting suit, but I could adapt to accommodate. You girls need to be as able to defend yourselves in skirts and heels as you would tennis shoes and sweats.”
Florence bit her lip and then raised her hand.
Spike shook his head good-naturedly, “You’re not in school anymore, little’un. You can just ask a question if you’ve got one.”
“If I wear a skirt and I have to do a bunch of kicking, won’t people see my…” Florence paused, embarrassed, before finally forcing herself to say it, “my underwear?”
Spike laughed, “Well, I suppose, but the ones you’ll be kicking will be staked or slayed anyway.”
“I’m never going to wear a skirt ever,” the youngest of the Slayers frowned.
“All right, ladies, lecture time is over. Now comes the fun part,” Spike pointed to Daisy, “You’re up first, darlin’.”
Daisy stood up, looking unsure. Out of the four girls she had had the most experience slaying vampires, but she was clumsy, her movements hesitant. Her hands toyed nervously with the hem of her sweatshirt.
It’s a miracle she didn’t get herself killed before Giles found her, Spike thought to himself.
Standing in the middle of the room, Spike encouraged her to come at him and instructed, “I want you to show me how you would attack me in slow motion, talk yourself through it.”
Daisy thought for a moment and then nodded, “Okay, I guess I would punch first?” She brought her right fist up slowly and moved it as though she were punching him across the face. “And then I would kick?”
“Would you kick from the same side as the fist you just hit me with?” Spike asked.
“No, I would go the opposite because it would be more confusing, right?” Daisy raised her left knee and made motions as though she would land it in Spike’s side.
“Good,” Spike took a step back, “I want you to try those moves for real. Use your strength and come at me.”
Taking a deep breath and getting a little encouraging cheer from the other girls, Daisy tried to hit Spike in the face, but he easily swerved out of the way without moving from his spot. When she tried to kick him, he knocked her off her feet by grabbing her behind her knee and lifting. She hopped around on one foot for a moment when he didn’t let go before tumbling to the carpet.
Daisy looked up at him and pouted, “That’s not fair! You didn’t say you were going to fight back, and you knew what I was going to do first!”
Spike crouched down to be eye-level with her while she was sprawled out on the floor, “What was our very first lesson? Fights aren’t fair. Also, I technically didn’t fight you. Defensive moves are just as important as the offensive. If I had fought you, you’d have been flat on your ass before you got your fist in the air.”
He offered her his hand, and warily she took it.
Hauling her to her feet, Spike gave her a pat on the shoulder, “Your plan wasn’t a bad plan, but planning can complicate things. Think quickly and improvise if the fight isn’t going your way. Own the fight, make me work for each block.” He got into position again and said, “Come at me, but this time I will be fighting back.”
Daisy rolled her shoulders, shook out her hands. Spike could tell he’d stung her pride, but he knew it was good for her. If she learned to turn her anger in her favor instead of a distraction, she’d be a great fighter, and Spike hoped she would realize that on her own.
When Daisy lunged at him again, her left fist raised as before, Spike had been a little disappointed until she caught his wrist as he went to block her and used it as a ruse to be able to kick him in the stomach. She stomped down on Spike’s foot and then locked her hands together to slam them down into his shoulder when he doubled over. She kept hitting him between his shoulder blades, holding him down. Daisy wasn’t prepared, however, when Spike popped up suddenly, catching her in her abdomen and throwing her over his shoulder. He could have easily flipped her completely to the floor, but there was no point in being cruel. He held her tightly in a fireman’s carry while she tried to punch his lower back, her legs flailing.
“That was great!” he laughed, setting her down. “Your only mistake was to not continue with a variation of moves until I was fully incapacitated.”
The fifteen-year-old looked disappointed, but Spike reassured her, “Hey, just because I got the upper-hand for a moment doesn’t mean you couldn’t have fought your way out of it. The foot-stomping was a good choice. Wasn’t expecting that. Hurt like a bugger too.”
Once she’d rejoined the other girls seated on the floor, Spike wondered which one he should work with next. Reglisse and Pistache worked very well in tandem and could use their twinliness to disorient an opponent, but separately the girls were sluggish and quick to duck-and-cover rather than fight. Florence posed a different set of problems in the training sessions. She was barely eye-level with his stomach. She could hardly do more than punch and kick in his leg and groin area. Spike had to buy an athletic cup early in the training because it was getting a little dangerous to let a Slayer, even an eleven-year-old one, take constant aim at his jewels.
The apartment’s front door swung open, and Connor hurried inside. The twins instantly sat up and began adjusting their own twins in their sports bras.
“Hey, you’re just in time to help me with a lesson in multiple opponents,” Spike smirked watching the girls’ faces pale.
Connor was gasping for breath, “Spike, I just needed to warn you that-”
Buffy entered the apartment in a sure-footed manner, followed by Angel who was clutching his bandaged hand to his chest.
“-we’ve got company,” the boy finished, sounding as though he had run a marathon.
Spike was in shock for a moment as he stared at Buffy. Her hair was long and bit darker than he remembered. She had bangs as well; he liked the way they framed her face, even if that face had a very sour expression at that moment. She was biting the inside of her cheek as she often did when she was pissed. Her tiny yet powerful fists were situated on her hips while one of her fashionable-yet-affordable boots tapped impatiently on the floor. The thing that caught and held Spike’s attention, however, was how her lower abdomen was rounded and sticking out much further than was normal.
“Buffy, I-… Are you-?” Spike reached out a hand to touch her stomach. This gesture was met by Buffy’s knee connecting with his groin.
Spike was really glad he bought that athletic cup.
To be continued…
Previous Chapters: One :: Two :: Three :: Four.
x-posted on nekid_spike.
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Summary: Spike and Angel are making a go of it after returning from Hell in Angel: After the Fall. Unfortunately, being a single vampire dad living with your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and Journalism major son makes Hell seem almost preferable.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Five :: Pound for Pound
“I’m getting fat.”
Angel looked up from his paperwork to see Connor sitting at his desk holding up a metal button.
“I sat down, and the button just popped off my jeans,” the young man looked somewhat perplexed and frustrated. “Do I look fat?”
“Last time I tried to answer that question,” Angel began, never taking his eyes off the scattered forms in front of him, “Spike nearly broke my jaw.”
Connor made an annoyed sound and tossed the button in his desk drawer. “How could I have gained so much weight? I mean, sure, work has been a bit slow, but I’ve been patrolling.”
Angel quirked an eyebrow, “It could have something to do with what’s in your lunchbox.”
“What do you mean?” Connor took the white box from his book-bag and lifted the lid. It was overflowing with a triple-decker sandwich, a small bowl of salad, a beautifully prepared fruit tart, and a little bottle of Italian soda.
“Spike may only know how to make things that can be shoved in the microwave or poured out of a box, but he’s never over-fed you the way the twins have been,” Angel mused.
Reglisse and Pistache were the daughters of French bakers and demanded to be in the kitchen during any moments they weren’t training. Spike was grateful for a reprieve from cooking, but the twins were insistent in the preparation of three course meals along with a bevy of cakes, pies, and other assorted tempting snacks. Even Angel found himself sneaking treats when no one was looking. The food was beyond delicious, but the skyrocketing grocery bill was troubling.
“I guess I have been eating a lot more than normal,” Connor’s brow furrowed as he tucked the lunchbox back into his book-bag.
“You’re not fat,” Angel replied, placing his paperwork into a manila folder.
Connor leaned his elbows on his desk, watching as Angel returned the folder to the large filing cabinet, “Are those from the Handleman case?”
The Handlemans had been plagued by a poltergeist since they had moved into their new condo, but through some research and literal arm-twisting Angel had discovered that the poltergeist was actually a pixie controlled by the condominium’s landlord who used tenants breaking their leases due to unexplained ghostly activity as an excuse to keep their security deposits.
“Yeah, they paid their account in full, and we’re in the black for the month,” Angel said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice.
“Not bad for a new business… Well, a new old business,” Connor placed his feet up on his desk in a proud-of-himself posture. There was a sudden knock at the office door. When Connor got up to answer it, he turned to his father with a laugh, “If it’s more Slayers, I’ll tell them to go away.” Opening the door, Connor said with a jovial tone, “Welcome to Angel Investigations. If you’re helpless, we’re helping.”
“I hope that’s not seriously the tag-line Angel’s going with,” the petite blonde woman in the doorway said.
Angel’s head whipped up from the filing cabinet. He stammered, “… Buffy?” before slamming the drawer shut on his hand.
Using the apartment’s living room as a gym was equally convenient and inconvenient. Spike had moved all the furniture save the couch and the coffee table into his and Angel’s bedroom. He wasn’t much for rhetoric and memorized martial arts poses; Spike encouraged the Slayers to find their own fighting style.
The girls were sitting in the floor in their gym clothes and bare-feet, waiting to find out what they would be working on today.
“Now, you’ve got on your comfy clothes, but remember that when you’re out in the field, you never know what you might be wearing. You have two choices when it comes to that problem- Either always wear comfortable clothes and shoes, or learn to fight in whatever you’re wearing,” Spike spoke. “Take me, for example. I always wear jeans, boots, and my jacket. I’m comfortable in that. I might be less comfortable in, say, a tight-fitting suit, but I could adapt to accommodate. You girls need to be as able to defend yourselves in skirts and heels as you would tennis shoes and sweats.”
Florence bit her lip and then raised her hand.
Spike shook his head good-naturedly, “You’re not in school anymore, little’un. You can just ask a question if you’ve got one.”
“If I wear a skirt and I have to do a bunch of kicking, won’t people see my…” Florence paused, embarrassed, before finally forcing herself to say it, “my underwear?”
Spike laughed, “Well, I suppose, but the ones you’ll be kicking will be staked or slayed anyway.”
“I’m never going to wear a skirt ever,” the youngest of the Slayers frowned.
“All right, ladies, lecture time is over. Now comes the fun part,” Spike pointed to Daisy, “You’re up first, darlin’.”
Daisy stood up, looking unsure. Out of the four girls she had had the most experience slaying vampires, but she was clumsy, her movements hesitant. Her hands toyed nervously with the hem of her sweatshirt.
It’s a miracle she didn’t get herself killed before Giles found her, Spike thought to himself.
Standing in the middle of the room, Spike encouraged her to come at him and instructed, “I want you to show me how you would attack me in slow motion, talk yourself through it.”
Daisy thought for a moment and then nodded, “Okay, I guess I would punch first?” She brought her right fist up slowly and moved it as though she were punching him across the face. “And then I would kick?”
“Would you kick from the same side as the fist you just hit me with?” Spike asked.
“No, I would go the opposite because it would be more confusing, right?” Daisy raised her left knee and made motions as though she would land it in Spike’s side.
“Good,” Spike took a step back, “I want you to try those moves for real. Use your strength and come at me.”
Taking a deep breath and getting a little encouraging cheer from the other girls, Daisy tried to hit Spike in the face, but he easily swerved out of the way without moving from his spot. When she tried to kick him, he knocked her off her feet by grabbing her behind her knee and lifting. She hopped around on one foot for a moment when he didn’t let go before tumbling to the carpet.
Daisy looked up at him and pouted, “That’s not fair! You didn’t say you were going to fight back, and you knew what I was going to do first!”
Spike crouched down to be eye-level with her while she was sprawled out on the floor, “What was our very first lesson? Fights aren’t fair. Also, I technically didn’t fight you. Defensive moves are just as important as the offensive. If I had fought you, you’d have been flat on your ass before you got your fist in the air.”
He offered her his hand, and warily she took it.
Hauling her to her feet, Spike gave her a pat on the shoulder, “Your plan wasn’t a bad plan, but planning can complicate things. Think quickly and improvise if the fight isn’t going your way. Own the fight, make me work for each block.” He got into position again and said, “Come at me, but this time I will be fighting back.”
Daisy rolled her shoulders, shook out her hands. Spike could tell he’d stung her pride, but he knew it was good for her. If she learned to turn her anger in her favor instead of a distraction, she’d be a great fighter, and Spike hoped she would realize that on her own.
When Daisy lunged at him again, her left fist raised as before, Spike had been a little disappointed until she caught his wrist as he went to block her and used it as a ruse to be able to kick him in the stomach. She stomped down on Spike’s foot and then locked her hands together to slam them down into his shoulder when he doubled over. She kept hitting him between his shoulder blades, holding him down. Daisy wasn’t prepared, however, when Spike popped up suddenly, catching her in her abdomen and throwing her over his shoulder. He could have easily flipped her completely to the floor, but there was no point in being cruel. He held her tightly in a fireman’s carry while she tried to punch his lower back, her legs flailing.
“That was great!” he laughed, setting her down. “Your only mistake was to not continue with a variation of moves until I was fully incapacitated.”
The fifteen-year-old looked disappointed, but Spike reassured her, “Hey, just because I got the upper-hand for a moment doesn’t mean you couldn’t have fought your way out of it. The foot-stomping was a good choice. Wasn’t expecting that. Hurt like a bugger too.”
Once she’d rejoined the other girls seated on the floor, Spike wondered which one he should work with next. Reglisse and Pistache worked very well in tandem and could use their twinliness to disorient an opponent, but separately the girls were sluggish and quick to duck-and-cover rather than fight. Florence posed a different set of problems in the training sessions. She was barely eye-level with his stomach. She could hardly do more than punch and kick in his leg and groin area. Spike had to buy an athletic cup early in the training because it was getting a little dangerous to let a Slayer, even an eleven-year-old one, take constant aim at his jewels.
The apartment’s front door swung open, and Connor hurried inside. The twins instantly sat up and began adjusting their own twins in their sports bras.
“Hey, you’re just in time to help me with a lesson in multiple opponents,” Spike smirked watching the girls’ faces pale.
Connor was gasping for breath, “Spike, I just needed to warn you that-”
Buffy entered the apartment in a sure-footed manner, followed by Angel who was clutching his bandaged hand to his chest.
“-we’ve got company,” the boy finished, sounding as though he had run a marathon.
Spike was in shock for a moment as he stared at Buffy. Her hair was long and bit darker than he remembered. She had bangs as well; he liked the way they framed her face, even if that face had a very sour expression at that moment. She was biting the inside of her cheek as she often did when she was pissed. Her tiny yet powerful fists were situated on her hips while one of her fashionable-yet-affordable boots tapped impatiently on the floor. The thing that caught and held Spike’s attention, however, was how her lower abdomen was rounded and sticking out much further than was normal.
“Buffy, I-… Are you-?” Spike reached out a hand to touch her stomach. This gesture was met by Buffy’s knee connecting with his groin.
Spike was really glad he bought that athletic cup.
To be continued…
Previous Chapters: One :: Two :: Three :: Four.
x-posted on nekid_spike.