Fic: Collide - Chapter 4/?
Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!
Collide
Pairing: S/A (eventually), S/others and A/others along the way
Rating: NC17 overall
Warning: Teenage high school kids doing things high school kids do.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit … just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: by thatotherperv
Summary: Human AU. Growing up is difficult enough. Being yourself while doing it is damn near impossible.
Previous chapters in memories and at my site.
A/N: Because it comes up in this chapter, Spike's nipple ring looks something like this (except with spikes at either end instead of balls):
source
Chapter 4
The next week and a half went by fairly incident free. Spike traded a study hall for a weight training class, figuring the first step in being able to defend himself against Angel should it ever come to that again was getting some muscle with which to do so. Thankfully, Angel and his friends weren't in it, so Spike didn't have to deal with them. Apparently they waited until the second trimester to take that class since all of them were on the football team and therefore trained with weights before and after school already. Spike had found out that tidbit from Xander.
As for him and Xander, their friendship continued to grow. Spike liked the rest of the group too, even Cordelia, although she still scared him just a little. In fact, everything was going so well Spike was almost holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And drop it did, Saturday night. Things had started out well enough. The Dingoes had a gig at the Bronze and Spike had gone, along with the rest of the gang. It had been fun, and after, Spike had given Oz a ride home since Oz's van was in the shop. Only thing was, Oz lived a little ways out of town, which wouldn't have been a problem except that Spike's car broke down halfway back to town. In the middle of soddin' nowhere. And his mobile was dead.
"Bloody figures," Spike said.
Holding up his hood with one hand, a flashlight in the other, Spike stared at his engine with a frown. He hoped he wouldn't get an 'I told you so' from his uncle, considering Giles had been a bit hesitant about buying the DeSoto when he'd taken Spike to the lot.
Quite frankly, Spike had been shocked his uncle bought him a car at all. He hadn't expected Giles to make such a large purchase on his behalf. When he'd voiced as much, his uncle had explained that getting your own car your senior year was a right of passage of sorts in America, and that as long as he was responsible with it, it was his. They'd looked at several that were nice, but didn't really catch Spike's fancy.
And then Spike had seen it. An old DeSoto at the back of the lot of the latest dealership they'd gone to. When he'd asked how much it was, the salesman had tried to blow him off, telling him it was only there because they were running a special on trade-ins and that it was headed to the junk yard the next day. Spike had turned to his uncle and told him that was the one he wanted.
Uncle Rupert had seemed taken aback at first, but agreed after making it clear the repairs and restoration would be his responsibility. Spike had eagerly agreed, realizing he liked the idea of working on his own car very much. So, they'd bought the car for a few hundred dollars. Uncle Rupert had generously given him the rest of what he'd been willing to spend on a car to get a head start on restoring the old vehicle, leaving Spike some time to get a job.
Spike hadn't found one yet, but he hadn't really looked yet, either. He still had money left and until now the car had been running decently. He'd figured he had time to get to know the lay of the land, so-to-speak, before he settled on something.
Spike sighed, deciding there was nothing for it but to see if he could suss out what was wrong. Not like he had a lot of choice this late at night in the middle of nowhere. Propping up the hood, he went to work.
Ten minutes later he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't notice a car slow down until it stopped in the road parallel to his car. Flashlight between his teeth and hands down in the engine, Spike wasn't able to look out to see who it was or call out a greeting right off.
Before Spike could disengage himself, he heard an all too familiar voice call out, "Hey, need any help? A lift?"
Spike froze and swore silently. Uneasy truce or not, being alone with Angel on a dark, deserted road made him more than a little nervous. No one would ever know if Angel beat him to death and dumped his body in the woods. Closing his eyes, Spike took a deep breath, deciding he was being ridiculous. The man was a tosser, sure, but that didn't mean he went around killing and disposing of the bodies of everyone he didn't like.
Getting his hands free of the engine, Spike pulled his head out from under the hood and grabbed his flashlight from between his teeth.
Deciding cocky would be a good cover for scared shitless, Spike said, "Trying to score more points with Buffy, then?"
"Spike? Christ. If I'd known it was you, I would've kept going."
Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Who did you think it was?"
Angel shrugged. "Don't know. Just someone who needed help."
Spike's other eyebrow shot up. "And you just randomly stopped out of what? The goodness of your heart? You have one?"
"Know what? Fuck this. Have a fun walk back to town. See you around," Angel said, turning back to his car.
Spike hesitated, but when Angel reached for the handle on his car door, Spike sucked up his pride and said, "Wait."
Angel stopped and Spike said to his back, "Sorry. Just frustrated. Would you mind giving me a lift? Doesn't appear I'm going to be able to fix this without some parts, or at least some tools."
Angel remained still for a prolonged amount of time before turning back and saying grudgingly, "Sure. Climb in."
Spike felt butterflies flutter in his stomach but stubbornly ignored them in favor of closing the hood and locking up his car.
He started around Angel's late model convertible, which had the top up, but when Angel's headlights illuminated him, Angel said, "Stop right there."
Spike froze, wondering what Angel's malfunction was. "What?"
"You're not getting in my car like that."
Spike looked down at himself and saw all the grease on his shirt and hands and winced. "Not like I've got a lot of choice. Don't have a change of clothes or anything to wash up with."
"Take the shirt off," Angel ordered.
Slowly, Spike looked up at him, squinting to try to see him past the bright headlights. "Come again?"
"Shirt off or you don't get in."
Spike hesitated, but he didn't fancy walking five miles back to town in the middle of the night and since his mobile battery was dead, calling his uncle to come get him was out of the question. Not having a lot of choice, he sighed and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
Feeling more than a little exposed in the beam of the headlight, he went for cocky again and smirked. "Want the jeans, too?"
"Hardly," Angel said, derision in his voice. "Get in and don't touch anything."
Spike snorted and stared pointedly at the door. "Bit hard, that."
Angel sighed and walked around, opening the door for Spike. Spike climbed in and made a show of keeping his hands in the air, one clutching his shirt. Instead of closing the door as Spike had expected, Angel ducked his head in and leaned toward him.
Pressing himself back into the seat as much as he could, Spike said, "Oi! What do you think you're doing?"
Angel looked at Spike and suddenly their faces were mere inches apart. Both of them froze.
After a moment Angel said, "Buckling your seatbelt. I don't want to get pulled over and get a ticket because you're not buckled up."
Spike resisted the urge to drop his gaze to Angel's mouth-just-and said in a voice huskier than he intended, "Technically, since I'm over sixteen, I'd get the ticket."
"Whatever," Angel said as he slid the belt across Spike's torso and buckled it in.
Angel started to pull back and Spike immediately yelped as pain shot through his nipple. "Stop!"
Angel froze and asked impatiently, "What?"
Spike fisted his hands in the air and squirmed, trying to get away from the pain, but it only made it worse. "Fucking nipple ring's caught on you somehow."
Spike's first instinct was to grab at it, but it was still healing and he didn't know if the grease on his fingers would cause an infection or not. The last thing Spike wanted was an infected nipple.
Spike looked down between them in the dim light of the dome and realized the spiral ring had snagged on Angel's button-down shirt, catching on the lip between buttons. It had somehow twisted the ring-and subsequently his nipple-sideways, so not only was it tugging on his still healing piercing, it was twisting it too. Was no wonder he felt like his soddin' tit was being ripped off.
Spike started to reach for Angel's shirt to unhook himself, but Angel smacked his hand away. "Don't touch. You'll get me greasy."
"It fucking hurts!" Spike yelled, lifting his gaze to glare at him.
Angel glared back, a tick working in his jaw. After a moment, he said, "Just … sit still. I'll get it."
Spike forced himself to do as told. Angel looked down and reached between them. The backs of Angel's knuckles brushed against Spike's bare skin and Spike sucked in a sharp breath, shockwaves of pleasure skittering through him at the contact, in spite of the pain from his caught nipple ring.
"This is probably going to hurt," Angel mumbled.
"Can't get much worse," Spike said through clenched teeth. "Just soddin' do it."
Angel tugged and Spike cried out, instinctively trying to shrink away. Angel stilled and Spike panted, "Right. So it can get worse. Bloody hell."
Glancing down, Spike studied how his nipple was caught again. He suspected that if the piercing had been fully healed it probably wouldn't have even hurt, just tugged, but the fact was, it wasn't healed and it hurt like a bitch.
Without warning, fingers closed over his nipple and Spike slammed his head back into the seat, nearly having to bite his bottom lip in half to keep from groaning at the feeling of someone other than him touching him that way, even if it was Angel, and even if it was only so he could un-snag them.
The pain didn't even matter anymore. Correction, it mattered. It had just transmuted into something intensely pleasurable. So much so in fact that he was getting a hard-on from it.
"Fuck," Spike moaned involuntarily as Angel manipulated his piercing, immediately horrified at the outburst.
"Christ," Angel said, letting go of Spike's nipple as he finally got it uncaught. "You got off on that?"
Spike's eyes flew open and his head shot up, only to find his face inches from Angel's again. "No I didn't," Spike immediately protested.
"Sure about that?" Angel asked, looking pointedly at Spike's lap.
Spike decided it would be a good time for him to develop the superpower to disappear on command.
"Right. Fine," Spike admitted angrily, face hot. "Turned me on. Was just a physical reaction that had nothing to do with you, tosser. My nipples are sensitive, and the ring makes that one even more so."
Still leaning over him, still inches from his face and apparently going nowhere fast, Angel asked challengingly, "So you didn't want to kiss me in the bathroom that day? Or just now when I first leaned in here?"
Spike's heart felt like it was going to beat through his chest and he was sure Angel could hear it. Trying to appear cool and collected, Spike arched and eyebrow and asked in return, "Did you?"
"Of course not. I'm straight."
"Ditto," Spike said, then added, "Not the straight part, but the other."
Angel stared at him for a long moment, then ever so slowly leaned closer until Spike parted his lips in anticipation, sure Angel was going to kiss him in spite of his words.
Instead, Angel mockingly said a hair's breath away from his lips, "Somehow, I just don't believe you."
Before Spike could blink, Angel had pulled away and backed out of the car, slamming the door shut as he walked around to get in the driver's side. Spike, for his part, stared out the window, dropping his hands and shirt in his lap well away from any part of Angel's car and didn't say a word, too humiliated just then to speak.
Caught up in his thoughts, Spike didn't even notice they'd turned down his street several minutes later until they were pulling into the driveway that led to his and his uncle's flat.
Blinking, Spike asked, "You know where I live?"
Angel shrugged. "I know where Giles lives. He's helped me out a couple of times with school stuff."
"Oh," Spike said, not sure what he thought about the fact that his uncle and Angel were apparently friendly.
Angel shifted into park and Spike felt a hand brush his hip. The buckle clicked a second later and Angel carefully reached with it across Spike's lap, keeping it away from Spike's nipple ring as he threaded it back into the holder. Then he leaned further over and opened Spike's door, giving it a shove.
"Here you go," Angel said.
Spike hesitated, but in spite of the utter humiliation, what Angel had done had been halfway decent. He knew he should thank him. "Look. I just wanted to, you know, thank you. For the lift."
Angel looked uncomfortable as he nodded. "Sure."
Spike cleared his throat and added, "About the other part…"
"Let's just forget that, okay? It never happened."
Spike nodded. "Right. Good. Was what I was going to suggest."
Needing to be out of there as fast as possible to avoid further humiliating himself, Spike climbed out and turned away, using his backside to bump the door shut. A second later, Angel peeled out of the driveway.
Giles was at the door before Spike got there, looking out past him into the night, then at him in alarm. "What happened? Who was that? And why are you shirtless and … greasy?"
Spike sighed, dropping his shirt on the front step, not wanting to drag it in and get his uncle's flat dirty. "That was Angel. Gave me a lift home after the DeSoto broke down on the way back from dropping Oz off at his house. Ironically, because his van broke down. I'm shirtless because Angel didn't want his precious convertible getting greasy, and since my shirt was, it had to come off."
"Oh. I see. Nice of Angel to drop you. I didn't know the two of you were friends," Giles said as he stepped aside, letting Spike in.
Spike headed for the kitchen and the dish soap, figuring that would be his best bet to get rid of the grease on his hands.
Chuckling humorlessly, Spike said, "We're not. Can't stand each other, in fact. He only stopped because he didn't know it was me. Not sure why he offered me a ride home once he saw who it was."
Giles walked up to the living room side of the counter and said, "Maybe because he's a decent boy and I've helped him out a couple of times in the past with his schoolwork?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "I'll take your word for it. I figured he was just trying to score points with Buffy."
Looking curious, Giles asked, "Oh? And how does that work?"
Spike smirked as he washed his hands. "For some daft reason-not that I'm complaining, mind-Buffy gets pissy with Angel when he gets pissy with me, so Angel has to play nice if he doesn't want Buffy to, you know," Spike glanced at Giles and said somewhat awkwardly, "Cut him off."
"Cut him…." Giles trailed off, looking confused, until suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh. I see."
Spike grinned in amusement as his uncle removed his glasses and started polishing them, something Spike had noticed he did whenever a subject made him uncomfortable.
"Yes, well, whatever the reason, it's good he happened by," Giles said. "If you don't mind my asking, though, if you dislike him so much, why didn't you just ring me for a lift?"
"Tried," Spike said. "Before he even got there. My battery was dead. Must have forgot to put it on the charger."
"Didn't Angel have his mobile?"
Spike shut off the water and blinked at his uncle, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask. "Don't rightly know, actually."
Giles glanced at the clock and said, "It's getting late. I think I'm going to turn in. We'll call a tow truck for your car in the morning, yes?"
"Sure," Spike said, filling up a glass with water and taking a drink. "Sounds good. Night, Uncle Rupert."
"Night, Will," Giles said in return.
Long after his uncle went upstairs to bed, Spike stood in the kitchen staring into his glass of water, unable to get the feel of Angel's touch, of how much he'd wanted that kiss, out of his head.
Continued here.
Collide
Pairing: S/A (eventually), S/others and A/others along the way
Rating: NC17 overall
Warning: Teenage high school kids doing things high school kids do.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit … just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Beta'd: by thatotherperv
Summary: Human AU. Growing up is difficult enough. Being yourself while doing it is damn near impossible.
Previous chapters in memories and at my site.
A/N: Because it comes up in this chapter, Spike's nipple ring looks something like this (except with spikes at either end instead of balls):
source
Chapter 4
The next week and a half went by fairly incident free. Spike traded a study hall for a weight training class, figuring the first step in being able to defend himself against Angel should it ever come to that again was getting some muscle with which to do so. Thankfully, Angel and his friends weren't in it, so Spike didn't have to deal with them. Apparently they waited until the second trimester to take that class since all of them were on the football team and therefore trained with weights before and after school already. Spike had found out that tidbit from Xander.
As for him and Xander, their friendship continued to grow. Spike liked the rest of the group too, even Cordelia, although she still scared him just a little. In fact, everything was going so well Spike was almost holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And drop it did, Saturday night. Things had started out well enough. The Dingoes had a gig at the Bronze and Spike had gone, along with the rest of the gang. It had been fun, and after, Spike had given Oz a ride home since Oz's van was in the shop. Only thing was, Oz lived a little ways out of town, which wouldn't have been a problem except that Spike's car broke down halfway back to town. In the middle of soddin' nowhere. And his mobile was dead.
"Bloody figures," Spike said.
Holding up his hood with one hand, a flashlight in the other, Spike stared at his engine with a frown. He hoped he wouldn't get an 'I told you so' from his uncle, considering Giles had been a bit hesitant about buying the DeSoto when he'd taken Spike to the lot.
Quite frankly, Spike had been shocked his uncle bought him a car at all. He hadn't expected Giles to make such a large purchase on his behalf. When he'd voiced as much, his uncle had explained that getting your own car your senior year was a right of passage of sorts in America, and that as long as he was responsible with it, it was his. They'd looked at several that were nice, but didn't really catch Spike's fancy.
And then Spike had seen it. An old DeSoto at the back of the lot of the latest dealership they'd gone to. When he'd asked how much it was, the salesman had tried to blow him off, telling him it was only there because they were running a special on trade-ins and that it was headed to the junk yard the next day. Spike had turned to his uncle and told him that was the one he wanted.
Uncle Rupert had seemed taken aback at first, but agreed after making it clear the repairs and restoration would be his responsibility. Spike had eagerly agreed, realizing he liked the idea of working on his own car very much. So, they'd bought the car for a few hundred dollars. Uncle Rupert had generously given him the rest of what he'd been willing to spend on a car to get a head start on restoring the old vehicle, leaving Spike some time to get a job.
Spike hadn't found one yet, but he hadn't really looked yet, either. He still had money left and until now the car had been running decently. He'd figured he had time to get to know the lay of the land, so-to-speak, before he settled on something.
Spike sighed, deciding there was nothing for it but to see if he could suss out what was wrong. Not like he had a lot of choice this late at night in the middle of nowhere. Propping up the hood, he went to work.
Ten minutes later he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't notice a car slow down until it stopped in the road parallel to his car. Flashlight between his teeth and hands down in the engine, Spike wasn't able to look out to see who it was or call out a greeting right off.
Before Spike could disengage himself, he heard an all too familiar voice call out, "Hey, need any help? A lift?"
Spike froze and swore silently. Uneasy truce or not, being alone with Angel on a dark, deserted road made him more than a little nervous. No one would ever know if Angel beat him to death and dumped his body in the woods. Closing his eyes, Spike took a deep breath, deciding he was being ridiculous. The man was a tosser, sure, but that didn't mean he went around killing and disposing of the bodies of everyone he didn't like.
Getting his hands free of the engine, Spike pulled his head out from under the hood and grabbed his flashlight from between his teeth.
Deciding cocky would be a good cover for scared shitless, Spike said, "Trying to score more points with Buffy, then?"
"Spike? Christ. If I'd known it was you, I would've kept going."
Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Who did you think it was?"
Angel shrugged. "Don't know. Just someone who needed help."
Spike's other eyebrow shot up. "And you just randomly stopped out of what? The goodness of your heart? You have one?"
"Know what? Fuck this. Have a fun walk back to town. See you around," Angel said, turning back to his car.
Spike hesitated, but when Angel reached for the handle on his car door, Spike sucked up his pride and said, "Wait."
Angel stopped and Spike said to his back, "Sorry. Just frustrated. Would you mind giving me a lift? Doesn't appear I'm going to be able to fix this without some parts, or at least some tools."
Angel remained still for a prolonged amount of time before turning back and saying grudgingly, "Sure. Climb in."
Spike felt butterflies flutter in his stomach but stubbornly ignored them in favor of closing the hood and locking up his car.
He started around Angel's late model convertible, which had the top up, but when Angel's headlights illuminated him, Angel said, "Stop right there."
Spike froze, wondering what Angel's malfunction was. "What?"
"You're not getting in my car like that."
Spike looked down at himself and saw all the grease on his shirt and hands and winced. "Not like I've got a lot of choice. Don't have a change of clothes or anything to wash up with."
"Take the shirt off," Angel ordered.
Slowly, Spike looked up at him, squinting to try to see him past the bright headlights. "Come again?"
"Shirt off or you don't get in."
Spike hesitated, but he didn't fancy walking five miles back to town in the middle of the night and since his mobile battery was dead, calling his uncle to come get him was out of the question. Not having a lot of choice, he sighed and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
Feeling more than a little exposed in the beam of the headlight, he went for cocky again and smirked. "Want the jeans, too?"
"Hardly," Angel said, derision in his voice. "Get in and don't touch anything."
Spike snorted and stared pointedly at the door. "Bit hard, that."
Angel sighed and walked around, opening the door for Spike. Spike climbed in and made a show of keeping his hands in the air, one clutching his shirt. Instead of closing the door as Spike had expected, Angel ducked his head in and leaned toward him.
Pressing himself back into the seat as much as he could, Spike said, "Oi! What do you think you're doing?"
Angel looked at Spike and suddenly their faces were mere inches apart. Both of them froze.
After a moment Angel said, "Buckling your seatbelt. I don't want to get pulled over and get a ticket because you're not buckled up."
Spike resisted the urge to drop his gaze to Angel's mouth-just-and said in a voice huskier than he intended, "Technically, since I'm over sixteen, I'd get the ticket."
"Whatever," Angel said as he slid the belt across Spike's torso and buckled it in.
Angel started to pull back and Spike immediately yelped as pain shot through his nipple. "Stop!"
Angel froze and asked impatiently, "What?"
Spike fisted his hands in the air and squirmed, trying to get away from the pain, but it only made it worse. "Fucking nipple ring's caught on you somehow."
Spike's first instinct was to grab at it, but it was still healing and he didn't know if the grease on his fingers would cause an infection or not. The last thing Spike wanted was an infected nipple.
Spike looked down between them in the dim light of the dome and realized the spiral ring had snagged on Angel's button-down shirt, catching on the lip between buttons. It had somehow twisted the ring-and subsequently his nipple-sideways, so not only was it tugging on his still healing piercing, it was twisting it too. Was no wonder he felt like his soddin' tit was being ripped off.
Spike started to reach for Angel's shirt to unhook himself, but Angel smacked his hand away. "Don't touch. You'll get me greasy."
"It fucking hurts!" Spike yelled, lifting his gaze to glare at him.
Angel glared back, a tick working in his jaw. After a moment, he said, "Just … sit still. I'll get it."
Spike forced himself to do as told. Angel looked down and reached between them. The backs of Angel's knuckles brushed against Spike's bare skin and Spike sucked in a sharp breath, shockwaves of pleasure skittering through him at the contact, in spite of the pain from his caught nipple ring.
"This is probably going to hurt," Angel mumbled.
"Can't get much worse," Spike said through clenched teeth. "Just soddin' do it."
Angel tugged and Spike cried out, instinctively trying to shrink away. Angel stilled and Spike panted, "Right. So it can get worse. Bloody hell."
Glancing down, Spike studied how his nipple was caught again. He suspected that if the piercing had been fully healed it probably wouldn't have even hurt, just tugged, but the fact was, it wasn't healed and it hurt like a bitch.
Without warning, fingers closed over his nipple and Spike slammed his head back into the seat, nearly having to bite his bottom lip in half to keep from groaning at the feeling of someone other than him touching him that way, even if it was Angel, and even if it was only so he could un-snag them.
The pain didn't even matter anymore. Correction, it mattered. It had just transmuted into something intensely pleasurable. So much so in fact that he was getting a hard-on from it.
"Fuck," Spike moaned involuntarily as Angel manipulated his piercing, immediately horrified at the outburst.
"Christ," Angel said, letting go of Spike's nipple as he finally got it uncaught. "You got off on that?"
Spike's eyes flew open and his head shot up, only to find his face inches from Angel's again. "No I didn't," Spike immediately protested.
"Sure about that?" Angel asked, looking pointedly at Spike's lap.
Spike decided it would be a good time for him to develop the superpower to disappear on command.
"Right. Fine," Spike admitted angrily, face hot. "Turned me on. Was just a physical reaction that had nothing to do with you, tosser. My nipples are sensitive, and the ring makes that one even more so."
Still leaning over him, still inches from his face and apparently going nowhere fast, Angel asked challengingly, "So you didn't want to kiss me in the bathroom that day? Or just now when I first leaned in here?"
Spike's heart felt like it was going to beat through his chest and he was sure Angel could hear it. Trying to appear cool and collected, Spike arched and eyebrow and asked in return, "Did you?"
"Of course not. I'm straight."
"Ditto," Spike said, then added, "Not the straight part, but the other."
Angel stared at him for a long moment, then ever so slowly leaned closer until Spike parted his lips in anticipation, sure Angel was going to kiss him in spite of his words.
Instead, Angel mockingly said a hair's breath away from his lips, "Somehow, I just don't believe you."
Before Spike could blink, Angel had pulled away and backed out of the car, slamming the door shut as he walked around to get in the driver's side. Spike, for his part, stared out the window, dropping his hands and shirt in his lap well away from any part of Angel's car and didn't say a word, too humiliated just then to speak.
Caught up in his thoughts, Spike didn't even notice they'd turned down his street several minutes later until they were pulling into the driveway that led to his and his uncle's flat.
Blinking, Spike asked, "You know where I live?"
Angel shrugged. "I know where Giles lives. He's helped me out a couple of times with school stuff."
"Oh," Spike said, not sure what he thought about the fact that his uncle and Angel were apparently friendly.
Angel shifted into park and Spike felt a hand brush his hip. The buckle clicked a second later and Angel carefully reached with it across Spike's lap, keeping it away from Spike's nipple ring as he threaded it back into the holder. Then he leaned further over and opened Spike's door, giving it a shove.
"Here you go," Angel said.
Spike hesitated, but in spite of the utter humiliation, what Angel had done had been halfway decent. He knew he should thank him. "Look. I just wanted to, you know, thank you. For the lift."
Angel looked uncomfortable as he nodded. "Sure."
Spike cleared his throat and added, "About the other part…"
"Let's just forget that, okay? It never happened."
Spike nodded. "Right. Good. Was what I was going to suggest."
Needing to be out of there as fast as possible to avoid further humiliating himself, Spike climbed out and turned away, using his backside to bump the door shut. A second later, Angel peeled out of the driveway.
Giles was at the door before Spike got there, looking out past him into the night, then at him in alarm. "What happened? Who was that? And why are you shirtless and … greasy?"
Spike sighed, dropping his shirt on the front step, not wanting to drag it in and get his uncle's flat dirty. "That was Angel. Gave me a lift home after the DeSoto broke down on the way back from dropping Oz off at his house. Ironically, because his van broke down. I'm shirtless because Angel didn't want his precious convertible getting greasy, and since my shirt was, it had to come off."
"Oh. I see. Nice of Angel to drop you. I didn't know the two of you were friends," Giles said as he stepped aside, letting Spike in.
Spike headed for the kitchen and the dish soap, figuring that would be his best bet to get rid of the grease on his hands.
Chuckling humorlessly, Spike said, "We're not. Can't stand each other, in fact. He only stopped because he didn't know it was me. Not sure why he offered me a ride home once he saw who it was."
Giles walked up to the living room side of the counter and said, "Maybe because he's a decent boy and I've helped him out a couple of times in the past with his schoolwork?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "I'll take your word for it. I figured he was just trying to score points with Buffy."
Looking curious, Giles asked, "Oh? And how does that work?"
Spike smirked as he washed his hands. "For some daft reason-not that I'm complaining, mind-Buffy gets pissy with Angel when he gets pissy with me, so Angel has to play nice if he doesn't want Buffy to, you know," Spike glanced at Giles and said somewhat awkwardly, "Cut him off."
"Cut him…." Giles trailed off, looking confused, until suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh. I see."
Spike grinned in amusement as his uncle removed his glasses and started polishing them, something Spike had noticed he did whenever a subject made him uncomfortable.
"Yes, well, whatever the reason, it's good he happened by," Giles said. "If you don't mind my asking, though, if you dislike him so much, why didn't you just ring me for a lift?"
"Tried," Spike said. "Before he even got there. My battery was dead. Must have forgot to put it on the charger."
"Didn't Angel have his mobile?"
Spike shut off the water and blinked at his uncle, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask. "Don't rightly know, actually."
Giles glanced at the clock and said, "It's getting late. I think I'm going to turn in. We'll call a tow truck for your car in the morning, yes?"
"Sure," Spike said, filling up a glass with water and taking a drink. "Sounds good. Night, Uncle Rupert."
"Night, Will," Giles said in return.
Long after his uncle went upstairs to bed, Spike stood in the kitchen staring into his glass of water, unable to get the feel of Angel's touch, of how much he'd wanted that kiss, out of his head.
Continued here.