"Spike is not an object!"-day °°° chapter 5
April’s over and our bestest boys finally managed to clear the mess “Spike is not an object”-day” caused. And oh look, what a surprise, it’s a happy end! But for whom? Let’s see…
Title: “Spike is not an object!-day” (5/5)
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Spike/Lindsey
Rating: R
Words: 3436
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn.
Summary: They finally talk. A lot. And oh yes, before I forget: Wesley’s house-hunting.
Warnings: language (mine, I’m not a native speaker, no beta).
Previous parts: 1 °°° 2 °°° 3°°°4
Apologizing isn’t exactly Spike’s strong suit. Sobering up neither but since Wesley is a wreck after pickling himself in Whiskey for two days and Spike had strayed through the sewers for what felt like days until he finally found the way to Wesley’s house - more by accident than by remembering the way after his excessive tasting of pure ethanol - he spends the rest of the day pouring aspirin and coffee down their throats. In the end, both of them are conscious enough for Spike to awkwardly apologize for the failed e-mail and Wesley to accept the excuse in his stiff, British manner, bravely intending to go back to work the next day and pretending nothing ever happened.
When Spike leaves, they hug awkwardly as if they hadn’t ever touched before.
“Spike?” Wesley calls hesitantly when Spike’s nearly out of earshot.
“Yeah?”
“Talk to him, will you? I know he’s… well, he’s Angel but for the love of god, I’ve been buggered in a wardrobe, launched by my boss’ sperm and denounced in front of the whole staff. At least make sure I didn’t endure all of this in vain.”
Spike nods briefly, neither affirming nor negating, and hastily vanishes into the twilight of an overcast april evening.
Instinctively turning his head towards his neighbours door, Wesley sees his landlord’s youngest daughter staring at him curiously. She’s wearing a gaudy green octopus costume with her extended family gathered behind her, some of them still in the act of putting on their coats to head for the local elementary school’s talent show.
The little girl turns around to face the shocked-looking woman standing behind her, pigtails and tentacles bouncing up and down vividly, and yells “mommy, what means buggered?”
°°°
When Spike arrives at his own apartment, he nearly drops the key finding Angel and Lindsey sitting on his couch side by side but as far from each other as possible, Angel's butt balancing on one armrest and Lindsey pressed closely against the other one, both of them glaring at the opposite wall.
"What... how did you come in?"
Angel waggles a key, briefly nodding towards Lindsey without actually looking at him and gets up, his expression businesslike.
"You gotta go, Spike. For good. This city is too small for the two of us. The entire continent is."
Spike laughs humourlessly, starting a rant but is cut off by Angel lifting a hand and raising his voice to announce "I've got a parting gift for you". The tall vampire grabs Lindsey by the back of his neck like a puppy, gripping the long hair hard and making the human wince and stumble when Angel shoves him between Spike and himself. Angel's arm is extended as if afraid of said whelp’s lice but still holding the pinioned man tight.
"There."
Cocking an eyebrow, Spike states drily "the ribbon's missing". Angel and Lindsey roll their eyes simultaneously, before Angel releases Lindsey's hair and nudges him towards the blond. "Take him and leave. Now."
"No."
"Why?" Angel and Spike stare at each other, more of one of the possible answers making them freeze.
"'cause, 'cause... no!"
Lindsey coughs slightly. "Listen, you dicks..."
"Shut it!" The vampires are surprisingly close to synchronicity.
Shaking his head, Lindsey mumbles under his breath, "Once they agree and it must be now. Excellent."
"I've seen the tapes, Spike. I know that he's... important to you, though only the devil knows why. So take him and leave or I'll let him moulder in the womb of Wolfram and Heart till his dying day."
"That's blackmail", Spike spits indignantly.
"It's a gift."
Spike snorts. "yeah, 'cause that's what my soddin’ ole sire does, caring and being generous and presenting me something."
"Body."
Both vampires glare at Lindsey, who sternly repeats like delivering a pleading "Body, somebody. And what about your precious souls and giving humans away like toys? That's slavery."
"Shut it!" This time, the synchronicity is perfect.
"Jeez, he can't even shut up when he's given a complimentary ticket into freedom", Angel huffs disbelievingly in Spike’s direction, ignoring Lindsey completely.
"Yeah", the other vampire agrees, looking remotely like an irritated parent excusing for his naughty boy, "he's kinda taxing".
"That weren't exactly your words two days ago”, Lindsey states. “Let me think. Oh yeah, all you said then was "hmmmpf" 'cause you couldn't swallow my cock deep enough.” Lindsey looks smug, his inflection soaked with complacence though his current situation, his hands bound behind his back and his life at the vampire’s mercy.
Growling silently, Angel shoves the Texan one more tripping step towards Spike. “Take him before I off the insolent little shit.”
The Texan bows his head and whines “yes, please, take me, master, sir, please”, sounding sarcastic though his eyes plead Spike to accept Angel’s offer when he regains balance only inches in front of Spike who instinctively takes a step back, then circles the former lawyer to plant himself in front of Angel.
“Right. So you want get rid of both of us. Very efficient plan. Who helped you figuring it out, git?”
“It’s a gift”, Angel repeats, trying to answer the unsaid questions in the open cobalt width of Spike’s eyes .
“Yeah, you said that.” They stare at each other for long seconds, Angel’s expression deliberately blank, Spike vainly trying to provoke more than Angel’s successful attempt to hide behind angelic features and severity worn like a shield.
“You really want me to leave?”, Spike asks quietly, his voice on the verge of trembling.
“It’s a gift.”
Spike shakes his head, wanting to punch Angel but knowing that he won’t achieve anything he simply holds out his hand, palm up. “The keys. For the cowboy’s cuffs.”
Angel hands them to him, then turns to leave, glaring once more at Lindsey and pausing briefly as if he wanted to tell him something but keeps still, leaving without one more word.
°°°
Lindsey pushes a nibble of cheese cake back and forth, producing sticky crumbs while he alternately gazes at his plate and out of the window of the small diner into the drizzly night.
“What’s up, cowboy, finally understood the coherence between your magically shrinking jeans and your healthy appetite?”, Spike asks tetchily.
Tossing the fork on the plate with a loud clank, Lindsey glares at Spike angrily. They didn’t talk much after Angel had left, Spike hastily packing his few belongings while seething in silence, Lindsey knowing Spike good enough to efface himself. When they tossed their bags in the trunk, the pathetic remains of more than two lifespans, Spike asked Lindsey “where to?” and Lindsey instinctively spluttered “south”. So that’s what they did, driving southwards.
During the drive through the night, Spike pumped up the volume as far as it would go, the livid voice of Sid Vicious tormenting Lindsey’s ears as the blond drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel until Lindsey asked for a pause to get out of the electric atmosphere inside the car.
“Bastard,” Lindsey mumbles under his breath, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest after pushing the plate away from him.
“Ta, mate.”
“Not- well, you too.”
“I saved your soddin’ life. And don’t give me that slavery crap again. You’re welcome to leave any time. Won’t hold you back.”
“Too generous of you, master Spike”, Lindsey snorts derisively, fighting hard not to shout out loud his anger and despair. “But I won’t make it that easy for you. If you want to get rid of me you gotta leave me, asshole.”
“Already did, pet”, Spike says softly after a short and tense silent period. Both of them stare awkwardly at the greasy table, hardly able to swallow the lumps in their throats and fighting hard not to reach over the table to pull the other into a desperate kiss, deliberately forgetting sense or pride or the vampire that separates them. But they haven’t been touching a single time this night and they’re neither compliant nor brave enough to do it now.
Lindsey’s torn between the need to hit Spike and to embrace him, between running away and clinging to this vampire he never expected to fall for. He had wanted revenge, searing, fatal retribution for what Angel did to him and all he gets is this bloody goodbye in a dingy dinner, Angel once more taking away from him what he wants most, whom he loves and damn but he is tired, so tired.
“Wouldn’t have compromised myself with such a pansy ‘oh look what a fucking selfless romantic hero I can be’-show like your pathetic sire anyway”. Looking sternly and sitting up exaggeratedly straight, Lindsey mimics Angel. “It’s a gift. And now on your knees and worship my fucking brooding altruism, unworthy minions.”
Spike has to smile though he doesn’t feel like it but instantly gets furious again when he says “kicking our arses isn’t exactly what I’d call romantic. ‘s blackmail, ‘s what it is. An easy way to get rid of both of us after I’ve… ‘cause I’m not… ‘cause I won’t let him tap my arse anymore, for fuck’s sake!” Spike jumps up, his eyes flashing with rage. “‘s all wrong! ‘m no use to the soddin’ bugger anymore so he abandons me like some cheap whore,” the blond shouts, having talked himself into a rage that barely hides the hurt. The few other guests, the waitress and even the cook peeking out of the kitchen stare at them and for some seconds it’s dead silent. Spike hems, then sits down hastily, and everybody swiftly turns again to whatever they had been doing before, wondering if they really saw flickering yellow eyes and shifting bones.
Sighing warily, Lindsey’s rubs his face until his eyes are red and slightly swollen. “Don’t make me defend Angel, Spike. Won’t happen.”
Observing the sudden hurry of the other guests to pay and leave, the vampire mutters “wouldn’t know why anyway”, bottom lip forming a perfect, adorable pout. Lindsey averts his eyes when the aching thing in his chest contracts painfully. “Spike….”
“Don’t spike me!” More pouting, more painful contracting and suddenly Lindsey knows that he has to leave, that he can’t take this any longer, watching the man he loves hurting because of someone else. Nevertheless, he can’t break away from his lover without knowing he’ll be fine, even if that means helping his sworn enemy.
“You know why he did it, Spike. You know that he’s… emotionally challenged. Among other things. By his standards that probably really was the most romantic and selfless thing the douchebag’s ever done. The big faggot shouldn’t watch that much 90s’s Robert Redford movies.”
“Huh?”, Spike frowns. “A river runs through it?”
“No, the one with Demi Moore and that guy with the debts in Vegas and then-“
“In the car and he told her that she was nothing special and-
“That he’s done it before, paying a woman to be with him that is, but in reality-“
“Right. Never seen it.”
“Nah, me neither.” Both of them swig down the remains of their beers, pretending to adjust the fit of their jeans to make sure their balls still are where they’ve left them before this snippet of conversation.
After a fair amount of manly grunting a burping, Spike mutters “and you think he wanted me to go ‘cause, you know-“
“He loves you, yeah.” Lindsey rolls his eyes irritably. “You aren’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box, are you?”
They glare at each other but then Spike raises one corner of his mouth and shrugs. “Things got a bit complicated lately, with Angel ‘n’ all the others and, well, you.” Looking up shyly, Spike realizes that Lindsey’s tossing some bills on the table and gets up.
“Come on.”
“But-“
“You take the car. I won’t dust if I’m still on my way after sunset. Just need to get my bag and I’m off.”
“Where?”
“South”, Lindsey repeats as he heads for the car park, a confused vampire on his heels.
They stand in front of the open trunk, Lindsey’s bag already across his shoulders, the drizzle slowly soaking them as they’re searching for words to say goodbye. Again.
“’s not getting easier, is it?” Spike mumbles, staring at the tip of his boot that shuffles a pebble back and forth, never quite touching Lindsey’s shoes but coming closer, while he clenches his fists in his pockets. Lindsey only shakes his head, his hands not leaving his pockets either.
“But you know that if it won’t work out with you and the asshole-“
“I know”, Spike mumbles under his breath. He’s the Big Bad. The Big Bad doesn’t cry.
Placing a warm palm tenderly on the blond’s cheek and trailing his thumb caressingly over a prominent cheekbone that looks even sharper in the dim only illuminated by a street lamp some feet away, Lindsey locks gazes with Spike and the vampire prays that the Texan won’t say it. He’s the Big Bad. The Big Bad doesn’t cry.
Suddenly, soft, human lips are pressed onto his, not demanding entrance, just being there, not wanting to deepen the kiss or the pain but not quite able to let go, either. When they do, Lindsey instantly hugs Spike close, his lips forming three voiceless words against Spike’s ear that make the vampire shiver though it’s nothing more than a mute, tender puff.
Lindsey lets go and turns around, his back swiftly fading into the darkness of the parking space, the sound of his steps swallowed by the brawl of the rain.
Spike’s blinks. He’s the Big Bad. The Big Bad doesn’t cry. It’s just the soddin’ rain that makes it look like he does.
°°°
“I’m back and I won’t go anywhere!” Spike slams the door to Angel’s bedroom with a loud bang, deeply contented with his performance until he realizes that he forgot to actually step into the room and therefore stands in front of the closed door. Bollocks.
Before he can imagine a dignified way to open it again, Angel leapfrogs him, menacingly looming in the doorframe.
“Why are you still here, Spike?”, the dark vampire says threateningly though it sounds kind of wary, like Angel’s too exhausted to fight this battle. Only clad in pyjama trousers, he looks vulnerable and tired.
“’cause you’re Robert Redford!”, Spike states enthusiastically, all rage unimportant in consideration of his newfound insight.
“Huh?”
“In that movie, where this rich guy pays Demi Moore a million bucks to spend a night with him but she loves her husband, you know, that Woody guy, and then he falls in love with her and-“
“I wouldn’t give a darn to have sex with you, Spike.”
“Right. That’s why you’ve been following me like a bitch in heat from the day I became corporeal again.”
“You were convenient.”
“Right. We already had this conversation. So, this movie-“
“Haven’t seen it.”
“None of us blokes has. So, Robert Red-“ Angels blank expression reaches a new height of clueless perfection and Spike suddenly realizes that Angel probably really doesn’t know the film. Or Robert Redford. So, maybe, not that poufy, the old man, but then again, Lindsey’s obviously the only one who actually watches girly stuff like that. Spike instantly tries to shove the brief flash of pain aside when thinking about the cowboy, concentrating on his task.
“Anyways, you love me.” Spike looks smug, adding a confident “huh!” for good measure.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do and-“, Spike raises a hand a hand to stop Angel from repeating himself once more, “you do it that poufy, selfless ‘letting your love go to make him happy even if it hurts you’-way. You’re such a fag. But I’ve got your number.”
“I’m not and I don’t… damn, Spike why couldn’t you simply take the damned lawyer and leave? This leads to fucking nothing.”
“So you can look me straight in the eye and tell me you don’t love me?” Spike takes a step forward, standing so close to Angel that their faces and chests nearly touch, allowing himself to breath to make Angel feel the cool air ghosting over his skin.
Looking distressed, Angel whispers “this isn’t about love.”
“But?” Spike leans forward and bends his head lightly, his lips only inches away from Angels.
“It’s… I can’t share you, Spike. It fucking breaks my heart to see you with all those people”, Angel splutters, regretting the words the moment they leave his mouth and bare his weakness. Breaking away only split seconds before their lips can touch, Angel heads for the large windows, turning his back to Spike. “I can’t do this. I simply can’t.”
“There won’t be anybody else from now on,” Spike reassures Angel softly.
“Oh come on, Spike, I know you’ve tasted blood… literally but I mean… fuck, you know what I mean.”
Stepping close behind Angel and sharing his view over the nocturnal L.A. skyline, Spike whispers into Angels ear “Don’t need anybody else when I’ve got you, luv”.
Infliction glacially, Angel responds “I’ve told you already, Spike, I’ve watched you with Lindsey. That’s what you wanted me to do, watching, isn’t it? Torturing me, taking revenge for all I’ve done to you over the years. Congratulation, it worked.”
Uncertain if he should touch Angel, Spike ghosts his hand over the other vampire’s back without contacting and shakes his head. “No, that’s not the reason.” Turning his head, Angel raises an eye brow incredulously.
“Well, not the only reason. Just wanted you to want me.”
“I did”, Angel hesitates before proceeding, “I do. But I know I can’t give you what he gives you. We never-“ Angel swallows, steeling his voice and his stance, “we did what two vampires can do to each other. We fucked and fought each other bloody but we never, never ever, made love to each other.”
Frowning, Spike asks disbelievingly “you noticed?”, making Angel laugh sarcastically.
“Yeah, Spike, I noticed.”
“When you watched Lindsey and me two days ago?”
“Actually it was around 1880.”
“As if Angelus would have made love.” Both of them shake their heads as if remembering a late uncle with very bad manners.
“No, he wouldn’t”, Angel turns around to look Spike in the eye, “but I should have been able to. I was so damned jealous and-“
Cut off by a hand that grabs his neck and pulls him into a passionate kiss, Angel surrenders to Spike’s lead, embracing his childe and clinging to the other vampire’s lean body like a drowning man when a rush of emotion threatens to dissipate him. He allows it to happen, let’s himself being unravelled and put together anew under Spike’s tender lips and strong hands that hold and reassure him. Opening his lips he grants Spike access in every way, his hard body melting under cool touches caressing the bare skin of his upper body. For the first time in all these years Angel has the vague sense that forgiveness is possible for him.
Devouring his sire, writhing against the strong body, Spike’s motions get more heated, his erection pressing against Angel’s own hardness. When one hand begins to wander south, Angel grabs it, forcing Spike to stop and pulling back from their kiss.
“What about Lindsey?”
“He’s gone. Won’t lie to you though, pet. There was something between me and the cowboy that was more than fucking but in the end, when all is said and done, it’s all about you. Always has been, always will be.”
Swallowing once more, Angel whispers “in spite of it all?”.
Spike answers the question with a kiss, then entwines their fingers to gently pull Angel in the direction of the big bed.
“You coming, luv?”
Following sheepishly, Angel let’s himself being pulled down, lying sprawled on top of Spike, bracing his weight on his forearms. They’ve been like this countless times, Angel on top of Spike, their hard cocks demanding friction, their need and every unspoken issue between them making their coupling frenzied and vicious, but this time it’s different. It’s a first time, for both of them, and they know it, feel the significance of this night and on same basic level, it’s scary as hell. There’s uncertainty, vulnerability and the fear to do something wrong, to spoil what could be the beginning of something none of them had dared to hope for.
“I’m nervous”, Angel splutters, blushing furiously.
“No need to be, pet,” Spike whispers before he kisses Angel for the first time without any reservation or fear to be rejected. “Just love me.”
And so, Angel does.