Drill, Baby, Drill. :: a Spike/Fred ficlet.
Title: Drill, Baby, Drill
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Fred
Rating: R for naughtifulness. Totally not worksafe! :D
Notes: This is dedicated to lilithbint, who inspired my muse by suggesting some Spike/Fred naughty hijinks involving something akin to this steampunk drill Halloween decoration.
Summary: Set in AU Season Five of Angel. Fred shows off her latest gadgety invention to Spike and gets some wicked ideas. Sexy hilarity ensues. Enjoy! :D
Drill, Baby, Drill.
It was a monstrosity and an eyesore. Well, Angel claimed it was at any rate. Spike thought it was brilliant, straight out of Jules Verne, and that was all the positive feedback a plucky little physicist-turned-inventress needed about her latest creation- a steam-powered drilling vehicle. Of course, it didn't take a Mensa-level IQ to realize that Spike's interest had little to do with a keen eye for perfectly designed isentropic processes and more to do with having a private backyard bungalow for romantic interludes.
"-and these switches control the bypass valves for the steam after it leaves the boiler," Fred smiled, running her hands lovingly over the drill's massive control panel as she gave Spike the grand tour. "You know, I'm really not sure what the practical applications of this drill will be, but I'm quite happy with how it all turned out."
Spike sauntered up behind Fred, letting his hands gently caress her sides with as much adoration as she was showering on her equipment. Listening to her talk about pumping and drilling for hours on end was getting him very much in the mood for some "scientific experiments" of his own.
Taking her hand and placing it on the large knob of one of the gearshifts, Spike whispered in her ear in his best sultry voice, "And what about this big. thick. lever here?"
"Oh, it controls the main turbine," Fred explained, seemingly oblivious to his saucy double entendres, "I really was thinking about going with a reactionary turbine, but now I am positive I made the right choice with the impulse turbine instead. The drill's going to have a lot more velocity when it gets going."
Not to be deterred, Spike moved Fred's hand lower on the gearshift, coaxing her to make stroking motions up and down the metal shaft, "Really? And that's what gets this big sardine can dig-dugging?"
"Spike, why are you trying to make me give a handjob to the shifter?" Fred frowned.
"Come on, Darling," Spike whined, "I'm trying to work with what you're giving me here."
Fred couldn't help but smile at how cute Spike was when he was in teenaged sexual impetuousness mode. The impulse turbine was definitely the right choice.
"And the big thick lever was the best you could come up with?" she teased, trying to approximate his English accent but failing adorably, and then added for emphasis, "This drill is powered by steam!"
"Yeah, so I've heard a billion times," Spike pouted, throwing himself into the plush driver's seat petulantly.
"So," Fred let the word linger for a moment, "steam... heat... desire."
Right when the word "desire" left her perfect lips was when Fred took hold of the hem of her Black Oak Arkansas t-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing the garment aside. She wasn't wearing a bra. Spike sat up a little straighter in his seat, his attention caught. Reaching up to remove the precariously held hair-clip, Fred shook her head, letting her messy curls shower down over her shoulders in a chestnut cascade.
"Understand?" she asked, taking a tentative step towards her peroxided beau.
Spike reached out to touch the bare skin of Fred's thigh just below the denim ruffle of her skirt, "Pet, you know I always learn so much from your tutelage."
Fred grinned, pushing his hand away, "If you want to pass, you have to prove that you've learned something, not just crib off me."
Tilting his head, it took the vampire a few moments to realize her meaning, but he quickly caught on. Biting his bottom lip seductively, Spike pulled his black tank top up, revealing his compact abdominals and pectorals, in a tantalizingly slow fashion. The tank top soon joined Fred's shirt on the floor. Running his hand through his hair, breaking up the gel and letting his blonde locks stand up in riot of peroxided curls, Spike made some not-G-rated gasps as he tilted his head back and spread his legs.
"The steam gets brewed up in that great big boiler, yeah?" he said huskily, "All that water just starts bubbling and rolling..." Letting his hand trail down his bare chest to stop at the top button of his jeans, inviting Fred to take in the view, Spike continued, "It creates so much pressure..."
The top button was skillfully flicked open with one swipe of Spike's thumb over the material.
"... and it's just got no where to go..."
Flick went the second button.
"... It's almost like the steam is just begging..."
And the third button.
"... for someone to let it out..."
Once the fourth button was undone, Spike slid his jeans down to his knees. He cupped one hand over his hardened length, tapping his palm lightly against it.
"Did I pass, Miss Winifred?" Spike smiled his most innocent smile as he looked up at Fred through his lashes.
"I'm very proud of you," Fred took another step towards his chair, placing her hands on his bare thighs. "In fact, you've shown so much improvement I think you deserve some extra credit."
Really playing up the doe-eyed student routine, Spike asked, "What do I need to do?"
"Well, let's talk about what happens to the steam when it leaves the boiler," Fred eased herself into his lap, straddling his legs.
Instructing Spike to keep his hands on the armrests of the seat, Fred wrapped her nimble fingers gently around his penis, stroking it, toying with his foreskin in a way that nearly had the vampire's toes curling.
"You see, if you don't let the steam out of the boiler, it could explode, and that would be bad," Fred explained as she continued her ministrations.
"And awkward to explain to the dry-cleaners," Spike muttered, finding it hard to keep his hands still.
"Shush," she admonished, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Now, where were we? The purpose of the steam leaving the boiler in the first place is so that it can push the rotor in the turbine which powers the drill, but the steam can't just be left to its own devices."
Spike gripped the armrests tightly as Fred began to use her free hand to massage his balls as she palmed the head of his cock. His hips jerked forward just a little as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"Steam needs to be controlled, needs to be told what to do or else it just goes all over, so from the boiler, the steam needs to be funneled through a nozzle where it can expand," Fred gave him a rather meaningful squeeze.
Spike's breath hitched, "Okay, now you're just being cheeky."
"The nozzle is a very important element of getting a steam drill to work properly. It's got to make sure that the steam reaches its peak velocity before it comes into contact with the rotor in the turbine," Fred, taking a little pity on her vampire, guided his hand between her legs.
"Gotta make sure all the parts work in sync, right?" Spike rubbed his fingers along the outside of Fred's panties, feeling the slight dampness there. "The gears and whatnot have to be properly lubricated."
Placing her hands on Spike's shoulders and allowing him to push her denim skirt up around her waist, Fred nodded breathlessly, "Right, can't have the configuration unable to interlock correctly... Might be best to start with a slow rotation to warm everything up..."
Spike nuzzled into her neck, "I know exactly what to do."
Holding on to her waist, Spike lifted Fred up and laid her out on a flat portion of the control panel. Her white cowboy boots were a stark contrast to the deep earthen tones of the drill's interior. With one hand on her thigh and the other on her stomach, Spike knelt down to lick the wet patch that was slowly growing over Fred's green gingham-checked panties. When he started sucking the tiny nub of her clitoris through the thin material, Fred moaned softly, putting her hand over Spike's resting on her abdomen.
"Christ, Pet, these little frilly things you buy drive me mad," Spike said as he slipped her underwear down her legs.
"I got a pair in blue for you," Fred giggled as Spike leaned up to steal another kiss from her lips.
The vampire made a very unhappy face, which only made Fred laugh harder even as he hid his embarrassment by placing tiny kisses and nips along the column of her throat and over her breasts, "You like teasing me too much."
She tousled his hair playfully, "You make it sort of easy."
Two can play that game, Pudding, Spike thought to himself as rocked his hips forward, letting the moist tip of his cock rub against Fred's sex, circling around her clitoris.
Her body arched into those touches, but Spike pulled away before she received too much stimulation. After a few rounds of such back-and-forth, Fred locked her legs around Spike's hips to keep him close.
"Now I can't get away," Spike said in an exhale as he pressed himself inside, feeling Fred's body push up to meet his, the heels of her boots digging slightly into his backside.
Letting his body meld into hers, so soft, Spike kissed her cheek, enjoying the way her excited gasps tickled his skin. Her hands roamed over his back, and it was a sensual experience the vampire would not trade for any other. Those hands, skilled and deceptively strong, hardened by all her labors yet ever so soft by the tenderness behind every touch, nearly undid him all together. They ran across Spike's shoulders, over his throat, down his chest, as if she were attempting to memorize every inch of him by feel alone.
"I've got you," Fred smiled, holding him close, allowing the motion of his hips to become shallow and slower in pace.
The constant observer in Fred couldn't help but study Spike in moments like these, the flicker of emotion over his features. The pale pink flush, the same colour found in the shell of a baby's ear, spread across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks the closer he came to his climax. Whether he realized it or not, Spike would mouth words so softly Fred could not hear them, but watching his sculpted lips part and meet became a tunelessly melody on its own. His eyes would lock with hers, and she felt like Carl Sagan staring into Broca's brain and seeing the cosmos laid out, little pinpricks of light shining out to form a perfect shade of blue, the same as the Earth itself... but that might have just been her own orgasm making her realistic thoughts and perceptions go fizzy. Either way, it was fantastic, and the tangle of limbs that they formed in post-coital bliss was making her tremble.
"Oh, Lord, I'm shaking," Fred whispered, her lips almost pressed into Spike's shoulder, "It's like hydrogen, you know..."
"Fred?"
"Hydrogen atoms always needs that one extra electron to be stable, and so the only way for them to be happy is for two hydrogen atoms to bond together to form a pure, perfect H2 molecule..."
"Fred, Lovie, do you feel that? We're moving..."
"It's like science poetry, isn't it? The sharing of electrons, turning chaos into stability..."
Spike's voice suddenly sounded quite alarmed, "I think we're literally moving, and not just because of your pretty chemistry talk!"
Bolting up to a sitting position, Fred didn't have enough time to react before the whole steam drill lurched forward and down. During their relations, various mechanisms were activated as switches were leaned against and shifters were knocked out of gear. Both Spike and Fred were thrown roughly from one side of the control room to the other, which under normal circumstances would not have been pleasant and was doubly not so while mostly naked. There was a shuddering groan as the drill struggled to proceed on whatever course it was attempting, and just as quickly as it started its journey, the drill stopped in a series of jerks, creaks, and the whistling of steam being released, like an oversized teakettle.
Angel's shout of "FRED!" came from somewhere outside the drill.
"We're in trouble," Fred winced, trying to shut off as many levers and switches as she could to prevent any possible explosion.
Spike struggled to get to his feet, which wasn't easy with the floor of the control room now off-kilter and with his jeans tangled up around his ankles, "No, you're in trouble. I was a victim in all this. You lured me in here under the guise of helping me understand science."
Fred searched in vain for her t-shirt, but finding only Spike's slipped that on instead while smoothing down her skirt low enough so no one would hopefully be able to tell that she hadn't been able to locate her underpants, "Don't you feign innocence, Mister. You knew what you were getting into."
"You made me science's bitch. You should be ashamed," Spike tsked as he got his jeans buttoned as Fred threw open the bolt to unlatch the door.
Fred was a little afraid of what she would find on the other side of the door, but she bravely slid the hatch open. Though her eyes had to adjust a little for the dark backyard, it appeared that the drill had attempted to burrow in the first even ground it found, which happened to be the flower-beds. It also clipped a huge chunk out of the corner of the house itself, which Angel was now looking out of dumbfounded.
"What the hell were you doing?!" Angel shouted, "There's a big hole in the house!"
Spike poked his head out to survey the damage for himself, "Look at the brightside, Liam; we can finally put in that breakfast nook you always wanted."
"I wanted a breakfast nook for the kitchen! This is my bedroom, you moron!"
Angel's shouting combined with all the noise the drill had made was enough to wake most of the neighbors. Lights began blinking on inside the houses around them. Spike helped Fred out of the drill and onto solid ground as they tried to get a better assessment of how to fix their now hole-y home. It was then that a flash of white darted over their hedgerow and went scurrying by Angel's ankles into the new entryway into their house. It was Snowball, their elderly neighbor's cat, which was a constant source of annoyance and various disgusting "presents" on their doorstep. Angel was instantly chasing after the damned beast.
"Oh, God, it's in my closet!" came an Angelus-worthy bellow.
Fred sighed heavily, "I'm going to get a pot of coffee going... and look up the numbers of some general contractors."
"I know a glorified bricklayer with only one eye," Spike suggested helpfully, but off of the look Fred gave him, he hung his head defeatedly, "I'm going to go find your panties and then watch my Saturday morning cartoons."
Much shouting and literal fur-flying from Angel's bedroom caused Fred to add, "And call the animal shelter to see if we can find another Snowball... again."
The End.
x-posted to nekid_spike.
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Fred
Rating: R for naughtifulness. Totally not worksafe! :D
Notes: This is dedicated to lilithbint, who inspired my muse by suggesting some Spike/Fred naughty hijinks involving something akin to this steampunk drill Halloween decoration.
Summary: Set in AU Season Five of Angel. Fred shows off her latest gadgety invention to Spike and gets some wicked ideas. Sexy hilarity ensues. Enjoy! :D
Drill, Baby, Drill.
It was a monstrosity and an eyesore. Well, Angel claimed it was at any rate. Spike thought it was brilliant, straight out of Jules Verne, and that was all the positive feedback a plucky little physicist-turned-inventress needed about her latest creation- a steam-powered drilling vehicle. Of course, it didn't take a Mensa-level IQ to realize that Spike's interest had little to do with a keen eye for perfectly designed isentropic processes and more to do with having a private backyard bungalow for romantic interludes.
"-and these switches control the bypass valves for the steam after it leaves the boiler," Fred smiled, running her hands lovingly over the drill's massive control panel as she gave Spike the grand tour. "You know, I'm really not sure what the practical applications of this drill will be, but I'm quite happy with how it all turned out."
Spike sauntered up behind Fred, letting his hands gently caress her sides with as much adoration as she was showering on her equipment. Listening to her talk about pumping and drilling for hours on end was getting him very much in the mood for some "scientific experiments" of his own.
Taking her hand and placing it on the large knob of one of the gearshifts, Spike whispered in her ear in his best sultry voice, "And what about this big. thick. lever here?"
"Oh, it controls the main turbine," Fred explained, seemingly oblivious to his saucy double entendres, "I really was thinking about going with a reactionary turbine, but now I am positive I made the right choice with the impulse turbine instead. The drill's going to have a lot more velocity when it gets going."
Not to be deterred, Spike moved Fred's hand lower on the gearshift, coaxing her to make stroking motions up and down the metal shaft, "Really? And that's what gets this big sardine can dig-dugging?"
"Spike, why are you trying to make me give a handjob to the shifter?" Fred frowned.
"Come on, Darling," Spike whined, "I'm trying to work with what you're giving me here."
Fred couldn't help but smile at how cute Spike was when he was in teenaged sexual impetuousness mode. The impulse turbine was definitely the right choice.
"And the big thick lever was the best you could come up with?" she teased, trying to approximate his English accent but failing adorably, and then added for emphasis, "This drill is powered by steam!"
"Yeah, so I've heard a billion times," Spike pouted, throwing himself into the plush driver's seat petulantly.
"So," Fred let the word linger for a moment, "steam... heat... desire."
Right when the word "desire" left her perfect lips was when Fred took hold of the hem of her Black Oak Arkansas t-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing the garment aside. She wasn't wearing a bra. Spike sat up a little straighter in his seat, his attention caught. Reaching up to remove the precariously held hair-clip, Fred shook her head, letting her messy curls shower down over her shoulders in a chestnut cascade.
"Understand?" she asked, taking a tentative step towards her peroxided beau.
Spike reached out to touch the bare skin of Fred's thigh just below the denim ruffle of her skirt, "Pet, you know I always learn so much from your tutelage."
Fred grinned, pushing his hand away, "If you want to pass, you have to prove that you've learned something, not just crib off me."
Tilting his head, it took the vampire a few moments to realize her meaning, but he quickly caught on. Biting his bottom lip seductively, Spike pulled his black tank top up, revealing his compact abdominals and pectorals, in a tantalizingly slow fashion. The tank top soon joined Fred's shirt on the floor. Running his hand through his hair, breaking up the gel and letting his blonde locks stand up in riot of peroxided curls, Spike made some not-G-rated gasps as he tilted his head back and spread his legs.
"The steam gets brewed up in that great big boiler, yeah?" he said huskily, "All that water just starts bubbling and rolling..." Letting his hand trail down his bare chest to stop at the top button of his jeans, inviting Fred to take in the view, Spike continued, "It creates so much pressure..."
The top button was skillfully flicked open with one swipe of Spike's thumb over the material.
"... and it's just got no where to go..."
Flick went the second button.
"... It's almost like the steam is just begging..."
And the third button.
"... for someone to let it out..."
Once the fourth button was undone, Spike slid his jeans down to his knees. He cupped one hand over his hardened length, tapping his palm lightly against it.
"Did I pass, Miss Winifred?" Spike smiled his most innocent smile as he looked up at Fred through his lashes.
"I'm very proud of you," Fred took another step towards his chair, placing her hands on his bare thighs. "In fact, you've shown so much improvement I think you deserve some extra credit."
Really playing up the doe-eyed student routine, Spike asked, "What do I need to do?"
"Well, let's talk about what happens to the steam when it leaves the boiler," Fred eased herself into his lap, straddling his legs.
Instructing Spike to keep his hands on the armrests of the seat, Fred wrapped her nimble fingers gently around his penis, stroking it, toying with his foreskin in a way that nearly had the vampire's toes curling.
"You see, if you don't let the steam out of the boiler, it could explode, and that would be bad," Fred explained as she continued her ministrations.
"And awkward to explain to the dry-cleaners," Spike muttered, finding it hard to keep his hands still.
"Shush," she admonished, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Now, where were we? The purpose of the steam leaving the boiler in the first place is so that it can push the rotor in the turbine which powers the drill, but the steam can't just be left to its own devices."
Spike gripped the armrests tightly as Fred began to use her free hand to massage his balls as she palmed the head of his cock. His hips jerked forward just a little as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"Steam needs to be controlled, needs to be told what to do or else it just goes all over, so from the boiler, the steam needs to be funneled through a nozzle where it can expand," Fred gave him a rather meaningful squeeze.
Spike's breath hitched, "Okay, now you're just being cheeky."
"The nozzle is a very important element of getting a steam drill to work properly. It's got to make sure that the steam reaches its peak velocity before it comes into contact with the rotor in the turbine," Fred, taking a little pity on her vampire, guided his hand between her legs.
"Gotta make sure all the parts work in sync, right?" Spike rubbed his fingers along the outside of Fred's panties, feeling the slight dampness there. "The gears and whatnot have to be properly lubricated."
Placing her hands on Spike's shoulders and allowing him to push her denim skirt up around her waist, Fred nodded breathlessly, "Right, can't have the configuration unable to interlock correctly... Might be best to start with a slow rotation to warm everything up..."
Spike nuzzled into her neck, "I know exactly what to do."
Holding on to her waist, Spike lifted Fred up and laid her out on a flat portion of the control panel. Her white cowboy boots were a stark contrast to the deep earthen tones of the drill's interior. With one hand on her thigh and the other on her stomach, Spike knelt down to lick the wet patch that was slowly growing over Fred's green gingham-checked panties. When he started sucking the tiny nub of her clitoris through the thin material, Fred moaned softly, putting her hand over Spike's resting on her abdomen.
"Christ, Pet, these little frilly things you buy drive me mad," Spike said as he slipped her underwear down her legs.
"I got a pair in blue for you," Fred giggled as Spike leaned up to steal another kiss from her lips.
The vampire made a very unhappy face, which only made Fred laugh harder even as he hid his embarrassment by placing tiny kisses and nips along the column of her throat and over her breasts, "You like teasing me too much."
She tousled his hair playfully, "You make it sort of easy."
Two can play that game, Pudding, Spike thought to himself as rocked his hips forward, letting the moist tip of his cock rub against Fred's sex, circling around her clitoris.
Her body arched into those touches, but Spike pulled away before she received too much stimulation. After a few rounds of such back-and-forth, Fred locked her legs around Spike's hips to keep him close.
"Now I can't get away," Spike said in an exhale as he pressed himself inside, feeling Fred's body push up to meet his, the heels of her boots digging slightly into his backside.
Letting his body meld into hers, so soft, Spike kissed her cheek, enjoying the way her excited gasps tickled his skin. Her hands roamed over his back, and it was a sensual experience the vampire would not trade for any other. Those hands, skilled and deceptively strong, hardened by all her labors yet ever so soft by the tenderness behind every touch, nearly undid him all together. They ran across Spike's shoulders, over his throat, down his chest, as if she were attempting to memorize every inch of him by feel alone.
"I've got you," Fred smiled, holding him close, allowing the motion of his hips to become shallow and slower in pace.
The constant observer in Fred couldn't help but study Spike in moments like these, the flicker of emotion over his features. The pale pink flush, the same colour found in the shell of a baby's ear, spread across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks the closer he came to his climax. Whether he realized it or not, Spike would mouth words so softly Fred could not hear them, but watching his sculpted lips part and meet became a tunelessly melody on its own. His eyes would lock with hers, and she felt like Carl Sagan staring into Broca's brain and seeing the cosmos laid out, little pinpricks of light shining out to form a perfect shade of blue, the same as the Earth itself... but that might have just been her own orgasm making her realistic thoughts and perceptions go fizzy. Either way, it was fantastic, and the tangle of limbs that they formed in post-coital bliss was making her tremble.
"Oh, Lord, I'm shaking," Fred whispered, her lips almost pressed into Spike's shoulder, "It's like hydrogen, you know..."
"Fred?"
"Hydrogen atoms always needs that one extra electron to be stable, and so the only way for them to be happy is for two hydrogen atoms to bond together to form a pure, perfect H2 molecule..."
"Fred, Lovie, do you feel that? We're moving..."
"It's like science poetry, isn't it? The sharing of electrons, turning chaos into stability..."
Spike's voice suddenly sounded quite alarmed, "I think we're literally moving, and not just because of your pretty chemistry talk!"
Bolting up to a sitting position, Fred didn't have enough time to react before the whole steam drill lurched forward and down. During their relations, various mechanisms were activated as switches were leaned against and shifters were knocked out of gear. Both Spike and Fred were thrown roughly from one side of the control room to the other, which under normal circumstances would not have been pleasant and was doubly not so while mostly naked. There was a shuddering groan as the drill struggled to proceed on whatever course it was attempting, and just as quickly as it started its journey, the drill stopped in a series of jerks, creaks, and the whistling of steam being released, like an oversized teakettle.
Angel's shout of "FRED!" came from somewhere outside the drill.
"We're in trouble," Fred winced, trying to shut off as many levers and switches as she could to prevent any possible explosion.
Spike struggled to get to his feet, which wasn't easy with the floor of the control room now off-kilter and with his jeans tangled up around his ankles, "No, you're in trouble. I was a victim in all this. You lured me in here under the guise of helping me understand science."
Fred searched in vain for her t-shirt, but finding only Spike's slipped that on instead while smoothing down her skirt low enough so no one would hopefully be able to tell that she hadn't been able to locate her underpants, "Don't you feign innocence, Mister. You knew what you were getting into."
"You made me science's bitch. You should be ashamed," Spike tsked as he got his jeans buttoned as Fred threw open the bolt to unlatch the door.
Fred was a little afraid of what she would find on the other side of the door, but she bravely slid the hatch open. Though her eyes had to adjust a little for the dark backyard, it appeared that the drill had attempted to burrow in the first even ground it found, which happened to be the flower-beds. It also clipped a huge chunk out of the corner of the house itself, which Angel was now looking out of dumbfounded.
"What the hell were you doing?!" Angel shouted, "There's a big hole in the house!"
Spike poked his head out to survey the damage for himself, "Look at the brightside, Liam; we can finally put in that breakfast nook you always wanted."
"I wanted a breakfast nook for the kitchen! This is my bedroom, you moron!"
Angel's shouting combined with all the noise the drill had made was enough to wake most of the neighbors. Lights began blinking on inside the houses around them. Spike helped Fred out of the drill and onto solid ground as they tried to get a better assessment of how to fix their now hole-y home. It was then that a flash of white darted over their hedgerow and went scurrying by Angel's ankles into the new entryway into their house. It was Snowball, their elderly neighbor's cat, which was a constant source of annoyance and various disgusting "presents" on their doorstep. Angel was instantly chasing after the damned beast.
"Oh, God, it's in my closet!" came an Angelus-worthy bellow.
Fred sighed heavily, "I'm going to get a pot of coffee going... and look up the numbers of some general contractors."
"I know a glorified bricklayer with only one eye," Spike suggested helpfully, but off of the look Fred gave him, he hung his head defeatedly, "I'm going to go find your panties and then watch my Saturday morning cartoons."
Much shouting and literal fur-flying from Angel's bedroom caused Fred to add, "And call the animal shelter to see if we can find another Snowball... again."
The End.
x-posted to nekid_spike.