Acceptable Losses: Chapter 6/?
I know I've not updated any of my fanfics in a while, but I'm starting to get back on track. Expect more chapters of Acceptable Losses and Paper Pusher soon! :D
Title: Acceptable Losses
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for general naughtiness. :D
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.
In the previous chapter....
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.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Six :: The Joys of Losing & Finding.
Several moments of stunned pain had passed before Spike realized that Buffy was now hugging him.
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Buffy's voice was a strange combination of relief and irritation as she wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders. She attempted to press herself closer to his body, but her baby-bump kept her at a distance.
On a normal day, a day in which he had not been kicked in the groin by a preternaturally strong woman, Spike would have had a retort, possibly even a clever one, but all that came out of his mouth was a garbled noise.
Despite wearing an athletic cup for preservation's sake while training the Padawanettes, the full force of a Slayer's kick was still mightily painful. Loosening Buffy's vise-like grip and pushing her back at arm's length, Spike reached into his jeans and pulled out the broken halves of the protective cup.
"I hope you saved the receipt," Angel said flatly.
"Mmrgh," was the only sound Spike could manage, but it was accompanied by a murderous glare as he threw the broken plastic pieces at Angel's head.
"I think 'Act of Slayer' voided the warranty anyway," Connor added with the same monotone manner as his father.
Buffy latched onto Spike again, clutching/hugging him like a kid's first puppy on Christmas morning.
Finally able to take a gasp of air, Spike replied, "I may have to go through puberty again."
Buffy, however, showed no signs of letting him go. She didn't really say anything other than muttering something about 'stupid vampires with their stupid hair.' Angel felt his skin prickle as he watched how Buffy kept rubbing her hands up and down Spike's back. Spike kept one hand on the back of her head and the other around her middle. The older vampire couldn't be certain if he was more jealous of Spike touching Buffy or of her touching him, though he was definitely not jealous of getting a Slayer's foot to the crotch. He'd been on the receiving end of a such a kick before, and once was more than enough.
"Connor, take the girls to get dinner," Angel crossed the room, placing his hand possessively on Spike's lower back just above the delta of his ass.
Sensing the tension in the room, the young Slayerettes were more than happy to take their leave of the apartment with Connor. Getting to skip the rest of their training session was also a bonus.
"I could seriously stake both of you," Buffy fumed, but her tone was less angry than either vampire thought it would be. "One of you should have called or something. Spike, I thought you were dead."
Buffy was staring intently into Spike's eyes, and he cringed to see tears threatening to fall there. What did she want him to say? She seemed to need to hear something, but he couldn't figure out what he could possibly say to not anger her further. And why was she about to cry? Buffy rarely cried, especially not when she was furious.
Finally venturing an answer, Spike said, "Honestly, I thought Andrew would have told you that I was here by now."
Buffy's hazel eyes narrowed, "Andrew knew?" She gave Spike a rough shove and paced a few steps away, "Oh, he's deader than the two of you when I get back to Europe."
"Well, after the whole 'Dana Incident,' I thought he would have blabbed by now to Giles or someone at least. If he didn't, I figured Dana herself might have had something to say. Well, she wasn't much with talking at the time, but-" Spike turned to Angel and then back to Buffy, trying to gage some reassurance that he wasn't crazy-babbling. "I mean, I thought she might have said, "Hey, there was this devilishly handsome bloke there, and I hacked off his hands!" or something."
Buffy's expression instantly softened, "She cut off your hands?" She placed her deceptively delicate hands on one of his arms.
Spike lifted his wrists, displaying the faint white scars running the circumference of his forearms, "Got patched up, see? Good as new."
"I wish you had called me," Buffy spoke quietly, her eyes growing misty yet again as her fingers gingerly touched the mostly-healed scars.
"I wanted to, luv, but for the unlife of me, I didn't know what to say," Spike was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Angel was being uber-possessive, scraping his nails gently down the small of his back, and Buffy seemed to need him to be more forthcoming.
Pressing a kiss to the nape of Spike's neck, Angel said softly, "I find it hard to believe that you would ever have a hard time expressing yourself." His hands gripped the smaller man's waist, and Spike leaned backwards a little into the touches instinctively.
Buffy blinked owlishly at both vampires several times before practically collapsing on the couch as she burst into tears.
"My dream was right!" she sobbed. "I made you both gay!"
Angel frowned, "You didn't make us gay."
While his lover might not have been amused, Spike definitely was. "We're vampires. Being sort of bi-curious is part of the gig," he tried to reassure her, though he was having to hold back his laughter. He sat on the couch next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders.
After a few minutes, Buffy recovered, pouting as she wiped a hand over her tear-streaked face, "Stupid pregnancy hormones. I don't mean to cry, but it just happens." She managed a small smile, "You should have seen me after Dawn turned into a centaur."
Spike's eyes widened, "Dawn's a centaur?"
"Not anymore. Thank God," Buffy sniffled a little, but she seemed to rally none-the-less.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Angel sat down at Buffy's left. He wasn't sure what to say, and Spike seemed equally clueless. It was Spike, however, who breeched the silence.
Letting his hand hover over Buffy's pregnant belly, he asked, "Can I?"
Buffy smiled a little and opened up her jacket, "Yeah, rub the Buffy Buddha for luck."
"You're not that big," Spike laid his hand down flat on her baby-bump.
Angel reached over and placed his hand next to Spike's.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Spike asked as Angel's fingertips brushed over his own.
Buffy shook her head, "I don't know."
"You want to be surprised?"
"No," she replied, "I've never been to the doctor to find out."
Angel couldn't help but be a little shocked by that, and by the expression on Spike's face, he was as well. Remembering the flurry of thoughts that ran through his head when Darla had first turned up pregnant with Connor- the fear, the apprehension, Angel was surprised that Buffy seemed very resigned as she looked down at her swollen abdomen.
More silence followed as both vampires left their hands over the Slayer's unborn child, feeling the flurry of swimmy movement beneath their palms. It was such a near-blasphemous tableau, definitely not recommended by the Slayer handbook.
Angel took a breath and bravely asked, “So, who’s the father?”
“You don’t know him,” the reply came instantly as though it was well rehearsed.
Spike took note of Angel’s loosely bandaged fingers, his voice taking on a softer edge, “What happened?”
“Filing cabinet mishap,” Angel felt Spike’s hand slide over his.
“Damn those filing cabinet demons.” And there was the smirk, equal parts sexy-as-hell and infuriating, to remind Angel that a choir boy no longer lurked behind those Cupid’s bow lips.
Buffy couldn’t help the incredibly jealous feeling that crept over her, and she petulantly shoved the hands on her belly away. It was so unfair. Everyone else had a honey to love on, and all she had was this unattractive bump that made her ankles swell, her back hurt, and gave her stretch marks no matter how much cocoa butter she slathered on herself. She glanced up to see Spike and Angel giving her the same looks that Willow and Xander gave her when they thought she was about to start crying again.
“What?” she snapped.
“I asked when you were due?” Spike backed off cautiously, giving her more room on the couch as did Angel.
“Oh,” Buffy felt some heat rise into her face at her abrasiveness. She thought about it for a moment, “I guess now.”
Angel wasn't sure he heard her correctly, “Now?”
“Yeah, by my not very accurate calculations, I’m more overdue than that copy of Sweet Valley High Mysteries I forgot to return to the Hemery Library before they kicked me out of school.”
“So, you decided to travel half-way ‘round the world right before your confinement?” Spike said incredulously, one eyebrow quirked.
“Hey, I’m may be pregnant, but I’m still the Slayer,” Buffy’s defenses were on red alert. She blamed it on the hormones and not on the fact that one of her recent nightmares was actually coming true before her eyes.
Not wanting to be on the receiving end of any more of the hormonal Slayer’s wrath, Spike tried a little levity, “Sorry, I just thought that the Watcher would polish his glasses into dust over having to let you go off on your own in your condition.”
Buffy pushed herself off the couch with great difficulty, refusing either vampire’s assistance, “It’s not a disease, Spike. I’m just pregnant.”
“No offense intended, pigeon, I only meant…” Spike had to stop himself from blurting out that Buffy looked like an adorable beached whale when she rolled herself into a standing position. Angel sensed the comment was coming and shot him a glare before he could say anything.
Hoping to save Spike from losing a limb or worse, Angel changed the subject, “So, why are you here? Not that we don’t mind the occasional surprise visit.”
Taking a deep breath, Buffy removed her denim jacket and rubbed her sore lower back, “Well, I was laying low in Vienna with a few ex-Watchers when everything went to hell. First, I found out that Giles had taken it upon himself to put several decoy-Buffys out into the world. Can you believe that?” Finding no relief in standing, she flung herself back on the couch, “One of them was killed, and the other was gallivanting all over Rome with some immortal guy making me look like the biggest skank on either side of the Atlantic. As if being knocked up didn’t help!” She sank a bit lower on the sofa.
“If it makes you feel better, I knew that you would never be involved with guy like that,” Angel said, offering her a throw pillow which she immediately took and placed behind her back.
“Oh, you did too,” Spike rolled his eyes and then said pointedly, “And you never do that for me, and I’m the one who’s had a broken spine!”
Angel huffed, “I guess all those massages don’t count for anything?”
“Not when you make me have sex afterward, and then my back hurts worse!”
“No one makes you take it on your back.”
Spike spat, “I don’t like having comforter burns on my knees!”
Buffy gave each of them of a sharp punch in the arm, “Could you both just shut up? I’m carrying the annoyance for two now.”
Spike rubbed the bruise blooming on his bicep, “You’ve already kicked me in the jewels. I‘ve been punished enough today!”
With a very lady-like ‘ahem,’ Buffy continued, “Anyway, the decoy in Rome ran off with her boyfriend. Then several of Andrew’s Slayers went rogue, and that’s when we discovered that four of the younger Slayers were missing. After hours of interviewing and surveillance-reviewing, we found out that they were last seen when Andrew came to pick up the Slayer that had been in the mental institution. Long story short, I came here to get them. Imagine my surprise to find out they were with you both.” Staring grimly at Spike, she feigned a smile, “And oh, hi! You‘re alive!" And she added for good measure, "Jerk.”
Angel ran both hands over his face, sighing heavily, “Would it be a long shot to surmise that you don’t have a place to stay?”
“Why would you think that?” Buffy asked with a haughtier tone than she had intended.
“You don’t even have a bag on you.”
“Got my own helicopter. I’ve been sleeping there,” she turned her little pixie nose in the air, folding her arms and letting them rest on her baby-bump.
“I’ve seen you drive, Summers. It gives me the fear that you’ve been circling overhead,” Spike replied drily.
Angel knew that he’d regret it, but he couldn’t help but offer, “You could stay here.”
Buffy seemed to mill it over in her head for a moment before responding, “I think I need to get the girls back to Rome as soon as possible.”
“I’ve been training with them. And excuse me for saying, but I’m definitely a better coach than Andrew could ever be,” Spike explained with Angel chiming in that the girls’ parents were all aware of their whereabouts.
“Yes, because I’m so sure the girls gave them the whole story about staying alone with two vampires,” Buffy narrowed her eyes with a look of suspicion. “Guy vampires.”
“Not just with two guy vampires,” Spike said defensively.
“Oh, yeah, who is that cute kid with the hair anyway?” Buffy turned to Angel and then to Spike, “Are you just taking in all the kids off the street now?”
“You don’t know?” Spike tilted his head and began to speak again, but he saw by the shake of Angel’s head that that was a cease-and-desist topic. “Oh, right, um… That’s just Connor.”
“I can see why the girls would want to stay. Plenty of eye-candy,” a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Nothing untoward is going on,” Spike spoke, his tone serious. “Your Slayerettes were having some issues with their treatment and decided to look for something better. Can’t say that I blame them.”
After giving him a rather unamused look, Buffy sat there for a few minutes. She understood what the girls were going through. The long hours of training, the repetitive speeches, and constant reminders of imminent death would get to anyone, especially a young girl far from home for the first time.
For a second time, Angel offered to give her quarter for the night. “In the morning, you can ask the girls if they want to return to Europe for yourself.”
Spike smiled, “They’ll probably get a kick out of meeting you. Only got to meet your Roman doppelganger.”
Buffy reluctantly agreed, “I just need to check in with Leah at the helipad; make sure she’s all right.”
“Good,” Spike said as he got up from the sofa. Opening up the hall closet and taking out a fresh set of sheets, he continued, “That’ll give me a chance to make our bed habitable for you.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” Buffy spoke, feeling a quiet gratitude.
Spike had a rather gleeful expression, “No, I really do. You see, Angel and I haven’t changed the sheets since we played “Lord of the Manor” this morning…” And with that, he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Buffy and Angel on the couch.
Buffy turned to Angel, “Lord of the Manor, huh?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Could “Lord of the Manor” also involve a “Pregnant Milk Maid of Questionable Virtue?””
Angel buried his face in his hands, “I want my apartment back.”
***
Connor and the young Slayerettes returned shortly after Buffy was settled for the night. They were all quickly ushered to their rooms while Spike and Angel were forced to bunker on the couch. It was quite uncomfortable… for Angel. Spike was sprawled on top of him like a peroxided vampire koala, his head nuzzled under Angel’s chin. Nothing like trying to sleep with a hundred and forty pounds of dead weight snoring away on top of you.
Just before dawn, Angel nudged Spike awake, making the suggestion that they should slip into the hall bathroom before Connor or the girls were awake. Spike’s white-blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, and he had the look of a kid who had been woken up too early for Saturday morning cartoons. None-the-less, he followed Angel into the bathroom, yawning and keeping one hand on his borrowed pajama bottoms.
“Going to take out your moodiness on me?” Spike asked, tauntingly. “Better keep it in check, mister. There are impressionable teenaged girls on the other side of the wall. Plus, Buffy’s just down the way-”
Angel shoved Spike playfully into the shower and turned on the taps, “Maybe I want her to hear.”
Spike bit back a yelp as he tried to dodge getting sprayed in the face with ice cold water. He spoke in a quiet, rushed voice, pulling Angel into the shower with him, “You want her to be jealous? Think about what she’s missing?”
Angel let his pajamas fall to the floor of the shower; Spike’s followed shortly after, creating a stark black silk puddle in the middle of the yellow porcelain. With a hand on his shoulder, Angel turned and push Spike against the wall opposite the shower-head. Spike made a small moan of pleasure as his chest and face were pressed into the cold tiles, the water warming to a comfortable temperature.
The older vampire laughed softly, “Sounds like you are the one who wants to make her jealous.”
Flipping open a bottle of shampoo, Angel was nearly overpowered by the scent of roses and vanilla. He poured a generous amount in his palm and began to slick both his hands.
“God, that smells like a bleedin’ funeral parlor,” Spike braced his hands on the wall, pushing his hips back a little.
Angel smirked, running his slippery hands between Spike’s inner thighs, “Says the man who uses shampoo that smells like a fruity nightmare.”
“It’s- oh, that feels great…” Spike licked his lips as Angel’s hands teased and fondled him. “Where was I? Yeah, it’s Herbal Essences for colour-treated hair. I need it.”
Angel gave Spike a sharp slap on his wet flank, which echoed off the bathroom walls a bit louder than he had intended, “If you didn’t bleach your hair every week, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” His hands traveled up Spike’s back, rubbing his shoulders firmly, “You should grow out your hair, like it used to be.”
“What? All curly and nancified? I’d look like a poodle,” Spike’s eyes were closed as Angel’s fingers ran through his hair.
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind you looking like a poodle…”
“Maybe you just want me to look a little more like Buffy- Ah!” Spike gasped as Angel gripped a fistful of his hair, forcing his face roughly into the wall.
There was a sharp crack, which was enough for Angel to realize that he had pushed much harder than he intended. The scent of fear was palpable in the enclosed space, and though Spike tried to hide it, his body was tense, and his blue eyes were intensely focused as he looked over his shoulder, trying to assess if Angel was continuing with their game or if there was a genuine threat. Trust only ran so far when your boyfriend could potentially turn into a psycho killer at a moment's notice.
Angel eased his hold on Spike’s hair, regretting taking the comment as anything more than their normal banter. Spike let out a shuddery breath, and Angel saw that the cracking sound he had heard had been a tile splitting beneath Spike’s forehead. There was only a tiny scratch marring Spike’s face, a few chips of porcelain stuck to his skin.
Before Angel could apologize, Spike smiled, “I’m all right.” He paused and then added, “Least I know what our safety word is going to be from now on.”
Leaning forward to place a hard kiss to Spike’s shoulder, Angel sighed, “I think I owe you a back massage.”
“Make it a foot massage, and we’re square.”
“There is no way I’m touching your gross squirrel toes.”
Spike laughed, “Don’t recall you mindin’ my “gross squirrel toes” when I do that thing under the table-”
"Am I going to have to gag you?" Angel smirked and nipped at Spike’s throat, letting his hands follow down the curve of his back.
With one hand firmly on Spike's hip, the other pressed into the cleft of the blonde's ass, finding the small indention of flesh. Angel's soap-slicked finger breeched the tight ring of muscle, pumping in and out. Spike spread his legs further, kicking the sopping wet pajama bottoms away from his ankles. He hissed as the soap irritated his insides as Angel prepared him. He had a sudden realization that shampoo was never intended to be used as lube for good reason.
"I feel the need to warning you," Spike groaned as Angel added a second finger to the first, "You are going to feel the fire of Moses from that shampoo."
"At least your ass and my dick are going to smell like a rose garden. Not too many people can say that," Angel said thoughtfully as his erection brushed against the swell of Spike's backside.
"Oh, I hate you," Spike replied as he felt Angel's thumbs opening him up, the head of his penis pressing against his entrance.
Angel grinned as he pushed inside of Spike's body, "I hate you more." Once he had a decent rhythm going, he reached down and placed a hand beneath Spike's knee, lifting his leg for better access.
"If I slip and fall, it'll be your fault," Spike responded as each thrust pressed him harder and harder into the wall. "And by the way, I hate you infinity."
"Well, now you're just being silly," Angel shook his head, enjoying the feeling of Spike's back against his chest, hearing each little moan he could elicit from his partner.
They went on with their coupling until the water ran completely cold. In that time, they had both totally forgotten that they were supposed to have been trying for stealthy sex in the middle of a bathroom utilized by their son and a gaggle of teenaged girls. The walls shook violently, the shower caddie battering the pipe behind it, and the loose tile fell to the bottom of the shower bringing strips of caulking down with it.
"We didn't bring any clothes with us," Spike purred as he and Angel were relaxing languidly on the bathroom rug. He picked up their soaked pajamas from the floor.
"Guess we'll just have to throw on towels and make a run for it," Angel replied, not particularly wanting to move from the comfortable position he was in.
Spike reluctantly stood up, his legs a bit wobbly, "Buffy's still in our room. What about that?"
"It's nothing she hasn't seen before," Angel slung a towel around his waist as Spike did the same.
Opening the door quickly and prepared to make a hasty retreat for dry clothes, both vampires were surprised when Pistache and Reglisse fell into the doorway. Buffy was behind them in the hallway, wearing one of Spike's t-shirts. Daisy too was in the hall, her hands firmly over Florence's ears, looking as though she was holding the younger girl back from eavesdropping like the twins. Connor appeared rather nonplussed on the couch in his pajamas, eating a large bowl of cereal with his laptop on, the earbuds of his iPod firmly in place.
Buffy, sporting an expression that read somewhere between irritation and frustrated turned-on-edness, pushed a stray lock of dark blonde hair out of her face, “I really think you two should have your bedroom back.”
To be continued...
Previous Chapters: One :: Two :: Three :: Four :: Five.
x-posted on nekid_spike.
Title: Acceptable Losses
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for general naughtiness. :D
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.
In the previous chapter....
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.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Six :: The Joys of Losing & Finding.
Several moments of stunned pain had passed before Spike realized that Buffy was now hugging him.
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Buffy's voice was a strange combination of relief and irritation as she wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders. She attempted to press herself closer to his body, but her baby-bump kept her at a distance.
On a normal day, a day in which he had not been kicked in the groin by a preternaturally strong woman, Spike would have had a retort, possibly even a clever one, but all that came out of his mouth was a garbled noise.
Despite wearing an athletic cup for preservation's sake while training the Padawanettes, the full force of a Slayer's kick was still mightily painful. Loosening Buffy's vise-like grip and pushing her back at arm's length, Spike reached into his jeans and pulled out the broken halves of the protective cup.
"I hope you saved the receipt," Angel said flatly.
"Mmrgh," was the only sound Spike could manage, but it was accompanied by a murderous glare as he threw the broken plastic pieces at Angel's head.
"I think 'Act of Slayer' voided the warranty anyway," Connor added with the same monotone manner as his father.
Buffy latched onto Spike again, clutching/hugging him like a kid's first puppy on Christmas morning.
Finally able to take a gasp of air, Spike replied, "I may have to go through puberty again."
Buffy, however, showed no signs of letting him go. She didn't really say anything other than muttering something about 'stupid vampires with their stupid hair.' Angel felt his skin prickle as he watched how Buffy kept rubbing her hands up and down Spike's back. Spike kept one hand on the back of her head and the other around her middle. The older vampire couldn't be certain if he was more jealous of Spike touching Buffy or of her touching him, though he was definitely not jealous of getting a Slayer's foot to the crotch. He'd been on the receiving end of a such a kick before, and once was more than enough.
"Connor, take the girls to get dinner," Angel crossed the room, placing his hand possessively on Spike's lower back just above the delta of his ass.
Sensing the tension in the room, the young Slayerettes were more than happy to take their leave of the apartment with Connor. Getting to skip the rest of their training session was also a bonus.
"I could seriously stake both of you," Buffy fumed, but her tone was less angry than either vampire thought it would be. "One of you should have called or something. Spike, I thought you were dead."
Buffy was staring intently into Spike's eyes, and he cringed to see tears threatening to fall there. What did she want him to say? She seemed to need to hear something, but he couldn't figure out what he could possibly say to not anger her further. And why was she about to cry? Buffy rarely cried, especially not when she was furious.
Finally venturing an answer, Spike said, "Honestly, I thought Andrew would have told you that I was here by now."
Buffy's hazel eyes narrowed, "Andrew knew?" She gave Spike a rough shove and paced a few steps away, "Oh, he's deader than the two of you when I get back to Europe."
"Well, after the whole 'Dana Incident,' I thought he would have blabbed by now to Giles or someone at least. If he didn't, I figured Dana herself might have had something to say. Well, she wasn't much with talking at the time, but-" Spike turned to Angel and then back to Buffy, trying to gage some reassurance that he wasn't crazy-babbling. "I mean, I thought she might have said, "Hey, there was this devilishly handsome bloke there, and I hacked off his hands!" or something."
Buffy's expression instantly softened, "She cut off your hands?" She placed her deceptively delicate hands on one of his arms.
Spike lifted his wrists, displaying the faint white scars running the circumference of his forearms, "Got patched up, see? Good as new."
"I wish you had called me," Buffy spoke quietly, her eyes growing misty yet again as her fingers gingerly touched the mostly-healed scars.
"I wanted to, luv, but for the unlife of me, I didn't know what to say," Spike was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Angel was being uber-possessive, scraping his nails gently down the small of his back, and Buffy seemed to need him to be more forthcoming.
Pressing a kiss to the nape of Spike's neck, Angel said softly, "I find it hard to believe that you would ever have a hard time expressing yourself." His hands gripped the smaller man's waist, and Spike leaned backwards a little into the touches instinctively.
Buffy blinked owlishly at both vampires several times before practically collapsing on the couch as she burst into tears.
"My dream was right!" she sobbed. "I made you both gay!"
Angel frowned, "You didn't make us gay."
While his lover might not have been amused, Spike definitely was. "We're vampires. Being sort of bi-curious is part of the gig," he tried to reassure her, though he was having to hold back his laughter. He sat on the couch next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders.
After a few minutes, Buffy recovered, pouting as she wiped a hand over her tear-streaked face, "Stupid pregnancy hormones. I don't mean to cry, but it just happens." She managed a small smile, "You should have seen me after Dawn turned into a centaur."
Spike's eyes widened, "Dawn's a centaur?"
"Not anymore. Thank God," Buffy sniffled a little, but she seemed to rally none-the-less.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Angel sat down at Buffy's left. He wasn't sure what to say, and Spike seemed equally clueless. It was Spike, however, who breeched the silence.
Letting his hand hover over Buffy's pregnant belly, he asked, "Can I?"
Buffy smiled a little and opened up her jacket, "Yeah, rub the Buffy Buddha for luck."
"You're not that big," Spike laid his hand down flat on her baby-bump.
Angel reached over and placed his hand next to Spike's.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Spike asked as Angel's fingertips brushed over his own.
Buffy shook her head, "I don't know."
"You want to be surprised?"
"No," she replied, "I've never been to the doctor to find out."
Angel couldn't help but be a little shocked by that, and by the expression on Spike's face, he was as well. Remembering the flurry of thoughts that ran through his head when Darla had first turned up pregnant with Connor- the fear, the apprehension, Angel was surprised that Buffy seemed very resigned as she looked down at her swollen abdomen.
More silence followed as both vampires left their hands over the Slayer's unborn child, feeling the flurry of swimmy movement beneath their palms. It was such a near-blasphemous tableau, definitely not recommended by the Slayer handbook.
Angel took a breath and bravely asked, “So, who’s the father?”
“You don’t know him,” the reply came instantly as though it was well rehearsed.
Spike took note of Angel’s loosely bandaged fingers, his voice taking on a softer edge, “What happened?”
“Filing cabinet mishap,” Angel felt Spike’s hand slide over his.
“Damn those filing cabinet demons.” And there was the smirk, equal parts sexy-as-hell and infuriating, to remind Angel that a choir boy no longer lurked behind those Cupid’s bow lips.
Buffy couldn’t help the incredibly jealous feeling that crept over her, and she petulantly shoved the hands on her belly away. It was so unfair. Everyone else had a honey to love on, and all she had was this unattractive bump that made her ankles swell, her back hurt, and gave her stretch marks no matter how much cocoa butter she slathered on herself. She glanced up to see Spike and Angel giving her the same looks that Willow and Xander gave her when they thought she was about to start crying again.
“What?” she snapped.
“I asked when you were due?” Spike backed off cautiously, giving her more room on the couch as did Angel.
“Oh,” Buffy felt some heat rise into her face at her abrasiveness. She thought about it for a moment, “I guess now.”
Angel wasn't sure he heard her correctly, “Now?”
“Yeah, by my not very accurate calculations, I’m more overdue than that copy of Sweet Valley High Mysteries I forgot to return to the Hemery Library before they kicked me out of school.”
“So, you decided to travel half-way ‘round the world right before your confinement?” Spike said incredulously, one eyebrow quirked.
“Hey, I’m may be pregnant, but I’m still the Slayer,” Buffy’s defenses were on red alert. She blamed it on the hormones and not on the fact that one of her recent nightmares was actually coming true before her eyes.
Not wanting to be on the receiving end of any more of the hormonal Slayer’s wrath, Spike tried a little levity, “Sorry, I just thought that the Watcher would polish his glasses into dust over having to let you go off on your own in your condition.”
Buffy pushed herself off the couch with great difficulty, refusing either vampire’s assistance, “It’s not a disease, Spike. I’m just pregnant.”
“No offense intended, pigeon, I only meant…” Spike had to stop himself from blurting out that Buffy looked like an adorable beached whale when she rolled herself into a standing position. Angel sensed the comment was coming and shot him a glare before he could say anything.
Hoping to save Spike from losing a limb or worse, Angel changed the subject, “So, why are you here? Not that we don’t mind the occasional surprise visit.”
Taking a deep breath, Buffy removed her denim jacket and rubbed her sore lower back, “Well, I was laying low in Vienna with a few ex-Watchers when everything went to hell. First, I found out that Giles had taken it upon himself to put several decoy-Buffys out into the world. Can you believe that?” Finding no relief in standing, she flung herself back on the couch, “One of them was killed, and the other was gallivanting all over Rome with some immortal guy making me look like the biggest skank on either side of the Atlantic. As if being knocked up didn’t help!” She sank a bit lower on the sofa.
“If it makes you feel better, I knew that you would never be involved with guy like that,” Angel said, offering her a throw pillow which she immediately took and placed behind her back.
“Oh, you did too,” Spike rolled his eyes and then said pointedly, “And you never do that for me, and I’m the one who’s had a broken spine!”
Angel huffed, “I guess all those massages don’t count for anything?”
“Not when you make me have sex afterward, and then my back hurts worse!”
“No one makes you take it on your back.”
Spike spat, “I don’t like having comforter burns on my knees!”
Buffy gave each of them of a sharp punch in the arm, “Could you both just shut up? I’m carrying the annoyance for two now.”
Spike rubbed the bruise blooming on his bicep, “You’ve already kicked me in the jewels. I‘ve been punished enough today!”
With a very lady-like ‘ahem,’ Buffy continued, “Anyway, the decoy in Rome ran off with her boyfriend. Then several of Andrew’s Slayers went rogue, and that’s when we discovered that four of the younger Slayers were missing. After hours of interviewing and surveillance-reviewing, we found out that they were last seen when Andrew came to pick up the Slayer that had been in the mental institution. Long story short, I came here to get them. Imagine my surprise to find out they were with you both.” Staring grimly at Spike, she feigned a smile, “And oh, hi! You‘re alive!" And she added for good measure, "Jerk.”
Angel ran both hands over his face, sighing heavily, “Would it be a long shot to surmise that you don’t have a place to stay?”
“Why would you think that?” Buffy asked with a haughtier tone than she had intended.
“You don’t even have a bag on you.”
“Got my own helicopter. I’ve been sleeping there,” she turned her little pixie nose in the air, folding her arms and letting them rest on her baby-bump.
“I’ve seen you drive, Summers. It gives me the fear that you’ve been circling overhead,” Spike replied drily.
Angel knew that he’d regret it, but he couldn’t help but offer, “You could stay here.”
Buffy seemed to mill it over in her head for a moment before responding, “I think I need to get the girls back to Rome as soon as possible.”
“I’ve been training with them. And excuse me for saying, but I’m definitely a better coach than Andrew could ever be,” Spike explained with Angel chiming in that the girls’ parents were all aware of their whereabouts.
“Yes, because I’m so sure the girls gave them the whole story about staying alone with two vampires,” Buffy narrowed her eyes with a look of suspicion. “Guy vampires.”
“Not just with two guy vampires,” Spike said defensively.
“Oh, yeah, who is that cute kid with the hair anyway?” Buffy turned to Angel and then to Spike, “Are you just taking in all the kids off the street now?”
“You don’t know?” Spike tilted his head and began to speak again, but he saw by the shake of Angel’s head that that was a cease-and-desist topic. “Oh, right, um… That’s just Connor.”
“I can see why the girls would want to stay. Plenty of eye-candy,” a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Nothing untoward is going on,” Spike spoke, his tone serious. “Your Slayerettes were having some issues with their treatment and decided to look for something better. Can’t say that I blame them.”
After giving him a rather unamused look, Buffy sat there for a few minutes. She understood what the girls were going through. The long hours of training, the repetitive speeches, and constant reminders of imminent death would get to anyone, especially a young girl far from home for the first time.
For a second time, Angel offered to give her quarter for the night. “In the morning, you can ask the girls if they want to return to Europe for yourself.”
Spike smiled, “They’ll probably get a kick out of meeting you. Only got to meet your Roman doppelganger.”
Buffy reluctantly agreed, “I just need to check in with Leah at the helipad; make sure she’s all right.”
“Good,” Spike said as he got up from the sofa. Opening up the hall closet and taking out a fresh set of sheets, he continued, “That’ll give me a chance to make our bed habitable for you.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” Buffy spoke, feeling a quiet gratitude.
Spike had a rather gleeful expression, “No, I really do. You see, Angel and I haven’t changed the sheets since we played “Lord of the Manor” this morning…” And with that, he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Buffy and Angel on the couch.
Buffy turned to Angel, “Lord of the Manor, huh?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Could “Lord of the Manor” also involve a “Pregnant Milk Maid of Questionable Virtue?””
Angel buried his face in his hands, “I want my apartment back.”
***
Connor and the young Slayerettes returned shortly after Buffy was settled for the night. They were all quickly ushered to their rooms while Spike and Angel were forced to bunker on the couch. It was quite uncomfortable… for Angel. Spike was sprawled on top of him like a peroxided vampire koala, his head nuzzled under Angel’s chin. Nothing like trying to sleep with a hundred and forty pounds of dead weight snoring away on top of you.
Just before dawn, Angel nudged Spike awake, making the suggestion that they should slip into the hall bathroom before Connor or the girls were awake. Spike’s white-blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, and he had the look of a kid who had been woken up too early for Saturday morning cartoons. None-the-less, he followed Angel into the bathroom, yawning and keeping one hand on his borrowed pajama bottoms.
“Going to take out your moodiness on me?” Spike asked, tauntingly. “Better keep it in check, mister. There are impressionable teenaged girls on the other side of the wall. Plus, Buffy’s just down the way-”
Angel shoved Spike playfully into the shower and turned on the taps, “Maybe I want her to hear.”
Spike bit back a yelp as he tried to dodge getting sprayed in the face with ice cold water. He spoke in a quiet, rushed voice, pulling Angel into the shower with him, “You want her to be jealous? Think about what she’s missing?”
Angel let his pajamas fall to the floor of the shower; Spike’s followed shortly after, creating a stark black silk puddle in the middle of the yellow porcelain. With a hand on his shoulder, Angel turned and push Spike against the wall opposite the shower-head. Spike made a small moan of pleasure as his chest and face were pressed into the cold tiles, the water warming to a comfortable temperature.
The older vampire laughed softly, “Sounds like you are the one who wants to make her jealous.”
Flipping open a bottle of shampoo, Angel was nearly overpowered by the scent of roses and vanilla. He poured a generous amount in his palm and began to slick both his hands.
“God, that smells like a bleedin’ funeral parlor,” Spike braced his hands on the wall, pushing his hips back a little.
Angel smirked, running his slippery hands between Spike’s inner thighs, “Says the man who uses shampoo that smells like a fruity nightmare.”
“It’s- oh, that feels great…” Spike licked his lips as Angel’s hands teased and fondled him. “Where was I? Yeah, it’s Herbal Essences for colour-treated hair. I need it.”
Angel gave Spike a sharp slap on his wet flank, which echoed off the bathroom walls a bit louder than he had intended, “If you didn’t bleach your hair every week, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” His hands traveled up Spike’s back, rubbing his shoulders firmly, “You should grow out your hair, like it used to be.”
“What? All curly and nancified? I’d look like a poodle,” Spike’s eyes were closed as Angel’s fingers ran through his hair.
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind you looking like a poodle…”
“Maybe you just want me to look a little more like Buffy- Ah!” Spike gasped as Angel gripped a fistful of his hair, forcing his face roughly into the wall.
There was a sharp crack, which was enough for Angel to realize that he had pushed much harder than he intended. The scent of fear was palpable in the enclosed space, and though Spike tried to hide it, his body was tense, and his blue eyes were intensely focused as he looked over his shoulder, trying to assess if Angel was continuing with their game or if there was a genuine threat. Trust only ran so far when your boyfriend could potentially turn into a psycho killer at a moment's notice.
Angel eased his hold on Spike’s hair, regretting taking the comment as anything more than their normal banter. Spike let out a shuddery breath, and Angel saw that the cracking sound he had heard had been a tile splitting beneath Spike’s forehead. There was only a tiny scratch marring Spike’s face, a few chips of porcelain stuck to his skin.
Before Angel could apologize, Spike smiled, “I’m all right.” He paused and then added, “Least I know what our safety word is going to be from now on.”
Leaning forward to place a hard kiss to Spike’s shoulder, Angel sighed, “I think I owe you a back massage.”
“Make it a foot massage, and we’re square.”
“There is no way I’m touching your gross squirrel toes.”
Spike laughed, “Don’t recall you mindin’ my “gross squirrel toes” when I do that thing under the table-”
"Am I going to have to gag you?" Angel smirked and nipped at Spike’s throat, letting his hands follow down the curve of his back.
With one hand firmly on Spike's hip, the other pressed into the cleft of the blonde's ass, finding the small indention of flesh. Angel's soap-slicked finger breeched the tight ring of muscle, pumping in and out. Spike spread his legs further, kicking the sopping wet pajama bottoms away from his ankles. He hissed as the soap irritated his insides as Angel prepared him. He had a sudden realization that shampoo was never intended to be used as lube for good reason.
"I feel the need to warning you," Spike groaned as Angel added a second finger to the first, "You are going to feel the fire of Moses from that shampoo."
"At least your ass and my dick are going to smell like a rose garden. Not too many people can say that," Angel said thoughtfully as his erection brushed against the swell of Spike's backside.
"Oh, I hate you," Spike replied as he felt Angel's thumbs opening him up, the head of his penis pressing against his entrance.
Angel grinned as he pushed inside of Spike's body, "I hate you more." Once he had a decent rhythm going, he reached down and placed a hand beneath Spike's knee, lifting his leg for better access.
"If I slip and fall, it'll be your fault," Spike responded as each thrust pressed him harder and harder into the wall. "And by the way, I hate you infinity."
"Well, now you're just being silly," Angel shook his head, enjoying the feeling of Spike's back against his chest, hearing each little moan he could elicit from his partner.
They went on with their coupling until the water ran completely cold. In that time, they had both totally forgotten that they were supposed to have been trying for stealthy sex in the middle of a bathroom utilized by their son and a gaggle of teenaged girls. The walls shook violently, the shower caddie battering the pipe behind it, and the loose tile fell to the bottom of the shower bringing strips of caulking down with it.
"We didn't bring any clothes with us," Spike purred as he and Angel were relaxing languidly on the bathroom rug. He picked up their soaked pajamas from the floor.
"Guess we'll just have to throw on towels and make a run for it," Angel replied, not particularly wanting to move from the comfortable position he was in.
Spike reluctantly stood up, his legs a bit wobbly, "Buffy's still in our room. What about that?"
"It's nothing she hasn't seen before," Angel slung a towel around his waist as Spike did the same.
Opening the door quickly and prepared to make a hasty retreat for dry clothes, both vampires were surprised when Pistache and Reglisse fell into the doorway. Buffy was behind them in the hallway, wearing one of Spike's t-shirts. Daisy too was in the hall, her hands firmly over Florence's ears, looking as though she was holding the younger girl back from eavesdropping like the twins. Connor appeared rather nonplussed on the couch in his pajamas, eating a large bowl of cereal with his laptop on, the earbuds of his iPod firmly in place.
Buffy, sporting an expression that read somewhere between irritation and frustrated turned-on-edness, pushed a stray lock of dark blonde hair out of her face, “I really think you two should have your bedroom back.”
To be continued...
Previous Chapters: One :: Two :: Three :: Four :: Five.
x-posted on nekid_spike.