Sorry, I'm Gay (10/35?)
Sorry, I'm Gay
A Night of Firsts
He didn't know why he was so nervous. It wasn't like it was their first time having dinner. Hell, it wasn't even the first time they had planned to stay up all night doing nothing. But it was their first time staying in to do it. And the first time he was going to see Angel's apartment. And their first actual date since their encounter in the gallery. He felt he had a right to be anxious.
Spike was so preoccupied with these thoughts on the way to Angel's building that he nearly crashed his motorcycle into a parked SUV. Feeling incredibly stupid, he noticed that all around him were expensive cars that were clean and most likely free of scratches. This was a good part of town; not exactly where all the high rollers lived, but it was a far cry from Spike's messy little beginners apartment block. He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious, riding around on his second-hand bike, looking kinda grungy with his roots in bad need for a touch-up and his old, ripped jeans. Even though the street was deserted, he could feel all those well-to-do eyes on him.
When he got to the building, he parked in a little side ally, convincing himself that he wasn't hiding his bike because of shame, but because you could never be too careful, even around rich people. Shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling his coat close around him, he trudged inside, half-expecting to be stopped by a doorman. He nearly danced in joy when he was the only one in the elevator, but spent the ride up glaring at the security camera instead.
He stayed in the hallway for a while, pacing its length and kicking anything that happened to get in his way. Part of him almost wanted someone to call security on him, but knew that wouldn't be the best of ideas in the long run. Eventually, he gave in and knocked on Angel's door. Just because it happened to be exactly six didn't imply anything.
The door opened instantly, and Angel smiled out at him "Have trouble figuring out which one was mine, or were you just so enthralled by the carpet that you had to explore it all in detail?"
"Oh, shut up," he growled as he pushed past him into the apartment.
Then he stopped short. He had stepped into the living room, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. Plasma screen TV, paper-thin laptop on the coffee table, cushy leather couch, a sound system he would have killed for... It he had felt out of place before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now.
Gentle hands were on his shoulders, pulling off his coat, leaving him feeling slightly vulnerable. He could hear Angel leave the room asking if he wanted a beer. He gave a weak 'yeah' and crossed his arms over his chest.
Another pair of arms wrapped around him, and Angel pulled him close. "What's wrong... I feel like I should call you baby, but that just doesn't fit you."
Spike tried to chuckle, but it came out too half-hearted to pass off as genuine. "I'm fine, love, really..."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah..." he suddenly collapse against the large body behind him, turning himself to bury his head in Angel's neck. "...But how much money do you fuckin' have?"
To his surprise, Angel laughed. "Just enough to make the rent every month... Though, sometimes, it's a stretch."
Spike's head shot up, and he looked at him in total disbelief. Angel laughed again, and gestured around the room. "One of my best friends is heir to one of the biggest electronic distributors on the west coast. He insisted on giving me everything a new apartment should need, no matter how expensive it... would have been. The kitchen's the same. All my money went into the couch and my bed set. Note how there aren't any other places to sit..."
Now that Spike took a closer look, he noticed that, indeed, there wasn't much else to the room other then the expensive stuff. The coffee table was old and scuffed, as were the cases holding the stereo and TV. That still didn't make him feel much better, though. He rested his head back on Angel's shoulder. "Think your friend could help me get a decent sound system?"
Angel chuckled, kissing the top of his head lightly. "I'll see what I can do. C'mon, I'll give you the tour."
The promise of an actual stereo perked him right up, and he happily followed him around the apartment. There really wasn't much to it. There was the kitchen, full of high-tech gizmos like Angel had promised, but with a shitty little table and miss-matched chairs. There was the bathroom, which wasn't really something to behold. He pointed to a closed door, just saying it was his bedroom before moving on, which was fine with Spike. But what really caught his eyes was the 'studio.'
It was supposed to be the Master Bedroom, as Angel proudly told him, but the light was so amazing that it had to be used for painting. One wall was entirely windows, which, in the morning, was supposed to give a terrific view of the sun rising over the city. The rug had been torn up, and the floorboards and walls were covered in splatters of point. The closet held all supplies, including blank canvasses. Half finished paintings were lined up against the walls, and there were even still a few that hadn't been sold at the showing, including, Spike was glad to see, the one of Angel's sister in the rain.
He was about to go over and inspect some canvasses that were turned to the walls when Angel took his hand and told him dinner should be ready.
They ate in comfortable silence, shining sky glances and smiles every now and then. After some struggling to inconspicuously get his boots off under the table, Spike dared to start a game of footsie, which was enjoyed through the rest of the meal. But afterwards, when the dishes had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned, they both just sat, at a loss for what to do.
"Y'wanna... I don't know, watch some TV or something?" Angel asked, shifting in his chair.
Spike just shrugged, and they both stood and headed into the living room. They settled on opposite ends of the couch, and Angel flipped through the five channels he had until he found an episode of CSI.
It was nice, spike had to admit. It was kinda domestic and comfortable. But something was missing. He discreetly looked over at the other man, who was wincing at one of the flashbacks on screen. There was something about the way he was sitting that almost looked like there was something missing...
Spike smirked and moved over, lying across the couch so he could lean against the other man and drape an arm around his waist. Angel smiled and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head softly. They maneuvered themselves so that Spike lay on top of him, head resting on his chest, and both had their arms around the other. Spike sighed as he turned to watch the show, relaxing completely for the first time that night.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
When Spike opened his eyes, the TV was now playing an old episode of Seinfeld, and he was confused. Last he checked, Grisom was just about to go interrogate someone...
He nuzzled into the pillow that was Angel's chest, and the arms around him tightened. He propped his chin up on his chest and looked up at him, who looked back with sleepy eyes and a soft smile. He would have rubbed the sleep from his own eyes, but that would have meant moving.
"What time is it?"
"Almost two," Angel whispered.
Spike smiled lopsidedly. "You've been watchin' me all that time?"
"You're very entertaining."
Spike gave a laugh that was more of a sigh and snuggled back into Angel's arms, allowing himself a few more moments of peace before he had to go. A few seconds later, he felt his eyelids begin to droop, and almost let sleep take him...
Reluctantly, he pulled out of the warm embrace. For a brief second, Angel looked saddened and disappointed, but he quickly covered it up with a yawn as he too got up.
"I should really get ho-" Spike cut himself off with his own yawn, which made him laugh a little and shake his head in an attempt to clear his head. "I'm all right, really."
Angel frowned at him, concern etched across his face. "Are you sure you should be driving your motorcycle like... that?"
"'Ve done it drunk before... Shouldn't be much different."
Angel looked at him disapprovingly. Spike smiled brightly back.
"I think you should stay here tonight."
Spike shrugged. "Fine by me, really." The couch was wonderfully comfortable, even more so then his sorry excuse for a mattress.
He once again followed Angel, hesitating for a second before stepping after him into his room. He smiled around at the mess; it looked like a dresser exploded, with shirts and pants strewn across the floor. Angel looked sheepish, wishing he had at least straightened up a bit after his frantic 'What am I gonna wear?' episode.. He found some old sweat pants and a tee shirt in the pile, and pointed Spike into his own bathroom to change in.
Spike passed on the shower, though the bath tempted him incredibly, the image of sinking into warm, soapy paradise - with some candles and bubbles and Angel, of course - imprinting itself on his mind. For now, though, he enjoyed the simple intimacy of using Angel's toothbrush. He washed quickly and pulled on the sweat pants, leaving the shirt mingled with his own pile of clothes. Figured he might as well give Angel a glance at the goods... might get another painting out of him.
Coming back into the bedroom, he was surprised to see it cleared up. But, judging by Angel's continuous glances, he had just stuffed everything in the closet. He gave him ample time to get a good look at him shirtless - now that he wasn't drunk, of course - and took the sights in himself. Angel had decided on the same sleep attire as himself. It was the first time he had seen his boyfriend half-naked, and he was going to enjoy it, damnit!
After several minutes of ogling each other, Spike finally took the offered pillow and blanket and set out for the couch... or, he would have, if they were being offered. He gestured from the bed to himself and to the door, which he was know aware of as being closed. "Um... have anything for me?"
Angel blinked stupidly, wondering if he was missing some hidden innuendo. "For what?"
Spike paused a second, trying to comprehend the situation. "For the couch..."
"Oh!" Angel colored, and turned away. 'I was kind of thinking that you'd... want to... maybe... y'know."
"Sleep here?"
Angel just nodded, trying not to make a complete fool of himself. "I can get you something..."
"No, no, that's fine, love. Looks a whole lot more comfortable here." He took a seat on the bed, and, as expected, it was an even farther cry from his sorry excuse for a mattress. "Didn't think you'd want me to... temptation and all that."
"I'm sure we can manage," Angel said, trying not to let his relief show too clearly.
"Which side you want?" Spike asked with an evil grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. "Me on the bottom and you on top? Or the other way around."
"You seemed to be pretty comfortable on top before." Angel's grin matched his own in wickedness, though his eyes were soft, almost... loving. He slid under the blankets, opening his arms in invitation. Spike gave a little wiggle of excitement, then buried himself under the sheets. He wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on his chest once again. If he was really honest with himself - which he could be, with it being so late - it was the most comfortable, the most relaxing position he had ever been in. Nothing was going to get to him here. Not with his Angel...
The older man disentangled an arm from where it was resting across his boyfriend's hips and reached over to turn off the bedside light. He lay there in the darkness, just feeling Spike's skin against his, becoming mesmerized by his steady breathing. Carefully, he pulled him more on top of him, holding him close and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his hair. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, and it felt like it stretched well past it's confines and out onto the pillow. "Spike?"
Spike just continued to breath, having fallen asleep before the light was even out. Angel breathed out a laugh, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, the only other they had shared that night. He closed his eyes, feeling more content then he had in a long time.
"Good night, Will."
A Night of Firsts
He didn't know why he was so nervous. It wasn't like it was their first time having dinner. Hell, it wasn't even the first time they had planned to stay up all night doing nothing. But it was their first time staying in to do it. And the first time he was going to see Angel's apartment. And their first actual date since their encounter in the gallery. He felt he had a right to be anxious.
Spike was so preoccupied with these thoughts on the way to Angel's building that he nearly crashed his motorcycle into a parked SUV. Feeling incredibly stupid, he noticed that all around him were expensive cars that were clean and most likely free of scratches. This was a good part of town; not exactly where all the high rollers lived, but it was a far cry from Spike's messy little beginners apartment block. He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious, riding around on his second-hand bike, looking kinda grungy with his roots in bad need for a touch-up and his old, ripped jeans. Even though the street was deserted, he could feel all those well-to-do eyes on him.
When he got to the building, he parked in a little side ally, convincing himself that he wasn't hiding his bike because of shame, but because you could never be too careful, even around rich people. Shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling his coat close around him, he trudged inside, half-expecting to be stopped by a doorman. He nearly danced in joy when he was the only one in the elevator, but spent the ride up glaring at the security camera instead.
He stayed in the hallway for a while, pacing its length and kicking anything that happened to get in his way. Part of him almost wanted someone to call security on him, but knew that wouldn't be the best of ideas in the long run. Eventually, he gave in and knocked on Angel's door. Just because it happened to be exactly six didn't imply anything.
The door opened instantly, and Angel smiled out at him "Have trouble figuring out which one was mine, or were you just so enthralled by the carpet that you had to explore it all in detail?"
"Oh, shut up," he growled as he pushed past him into the apartment.
Then he stopped short. He had stepped into the living room, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. Plasma screen TV, paper-thin laptop on the coffee table, cushy leather couch, a sound system he would have killed for... It he had felt out of place before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now.
Gentle hands were on his shoulders, pulling off his coat, leaving him feeling slightly vulnerable. He could hear Angel leave the room asking if he wanted a beer. He gave a weak 'yeah' and crossed his arms over his chest.
Another pair of arms wrapped around him, and Angel pulled him close. "What's wrong... I feel like I should call you baby, but that just doesn't fit you."
Spike tried to chuckle, but it came out too half-hearted to pass off as genuine. "I'm fine, love, really..."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah..." he suddenly collapse against the large body behind him, turning himself to bury his head in Angel's neck. "...But how much money do you fuckin' have?"
To his surprise, Angel laughed. "Just enough to make the rent every month... Though, sometimes, it's a stretch."
Spike's head shot up, and he looked at him in total disbelief. Angel laughed again, and gestured around the room. "One of my best friends is heir to one of the biggest electronic distributors on the west coast. He insisted on giving me everything a new apartment should need, no matter how expensive it... would have been. The kitchen's the same. All my money went into the couch and my bed set. Note how there aren't any other places to sit..."
Now that Spike took a closer look, he noticed that, indeed, there wasn't much else to the room other then the expensive stuff. The coffee table was old and scuffed, as were the cases holding the stereo and TV. That still didn't make him feel much better, though. He rested his head back on Angel's shoulder. "Think your friend could help me get a decent sound system?"
Angel chuckled, kissing the top of his head lightly. "I'll see what I can do. C'mon, I'll give you the tour."
The promise of an actual stereo perked him right up, and he happily followed him around the apartment. There really wasn't much to it. There was the kitchen, full of high-tech gizmos like Angel had promised, but with a shitty little table and miss-matched chairs. There was the bathroom, which wasn't really something to behold. He pointed to a closed door, just saying it was his bedroom before moving on, which was fine with Spike. But what really caught his eyes was the 'studio.'
It was supposed to be the Master Bedroom, as Angel proudly told him, but the light was so amazing that it had to be used for painting. One wall was entirely windows, which, in the morning, was supposed to give a terrific view of the sun rising over the city. The rug had been torn up, and the floorboards and walls were covered in splatters of point. The closet held all supplies, including blank canvasses. Half finished paintings were lined up against the walls, and there were even still a few that hadn't been sold at the showing, including, Spike was glad to see, the one of Angel's sister in the rain.
He was about to go over and inspect some canvasses that were turned to the walls when Angel took his hand and told him dinner should be ready.
They ate in comfortable silence, shining sky glances and smiles every now and then. After some struggling to inconspicuously get his boots off under the table, Spike dared to start a game of footsie, which was enjoyed through the rest of the meal. But afterwards, when the dishes had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned, they both just sat, at a loss for what to do.
"Y'wanna... I don't know, watch some TV or something?" Angel asked, shifting in his chair.
Spike just shrugged, and they both stood and headed into the living room. They settled on opposite ends of the couch, and Angel flipped through the five channels he had until he found an episode of CSI.
It was nice, spike had to admit. It was kinda domestic and comfortable. But something was missing. He discreetly looked over at the other man, who was wincing at one of the flashbacks on screen. There was something about the way he was sitting that almost looked like there was something missing...
Spike smirked and moved over, lying across the couch so he could lean against the other man and drape an arm around his waist. Angel smiled and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head softly. They maneuvered themselves so that Spike lay on top of him, head resting on his chest, and both had their arms around the other. Spike sighed as he turned to watch the show, relaxing completely for the first time that night.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
When Spike opened his eyes, the TV was now playing an old episode of Seinfeld, and he was confused. Last he checked, Grisom was just about to go interrogate someone...
He nuzzled into the pillow that was Angel's chest, and the arms around him tightened. He propped his chin up on his chest and looked up at him, who looked back with sleepy eyes and a soft smile. He would have rubbed the sleep from his own eyes, but that would have meant moving.
"What time is it?"
"Almost two," Angel whispered.
Spike smiled lopsidedly. "You've been watchin' me all that time?"
"You're very entertaining."
Spike gave a laugh that was more of a sigh and snuggled back into Angel's arms, allowing himself a few more moments of peace before he had to go. A few seconds later, he felt his eyelids begin to droop, and almost let sleep take him...
Reluctantly, he pulled out of the warm embrace. For a brief second, Angel looked saddened and disappointed, but he quickly covered it up with a yawn as he too got up.
"I should really get ho-" Spike cut himself off with his own yawn, which made him laugh a little and shake his head in an attempt to clear his head. "I'm all right, really."
Angel frowned at him, concern etched across his face. "Are you sure you should be driving your motorcycle like... that?"
"'Ve done it drunk before... Shouldn't be much different."
Angel looked at him disapprovingly. Spike smiled brightly back.
"I think you should stay here tonight."
Spike shrugged. "Fine by me, really." The couch was wonderfully comfortable, even more so then his sorry excuse for a mattress.
He once again followed Angel, hesitating for a second before stepping after him into his room. He smiled around at the mess; it looked like a dresser exploded, with shirts and pants strewn across the floor. Angel looked sheepish, wishing he had at least straightened up a bit after his frantic 'What am I gonna wear?' episode.. He found some old sweat pants and a tee shirt in the pile, and pointed Spike into his own bathroom to change in.
Spike passed on the shower, though the bath tempted him incredibly, the image of sinking into warm, soapy paradise - with some candles and bubbles and Angel, of course - imprinting itself on his mind. For now, though, he enjoyed the simple intimacy of using Angel's toothbrush. He washed quickly and pulled on the sweat pants, leaving the shirt mingled with his own pile of clothes. Figured he might as well give Angel a glance at the goods... might get another painting out of him.
Coming back into the bedroom, he was surprised to see it cleared up. But, judging by Angel's continuous glances, he had just stuffed everything in the closet. He gave him ample time to get a good look at him shirtless - now that he wasn't drunk, of course - and took the sights in himself. Angel had decided on the same sleep attire as himself. It was the first time he had seen his boyfriend half-naked, and he was going to enjoy it, damnit!
After several minutes of ogling each other, Spike finally took the offered pillow and blanket and set out for the couch... or, he would have, if they were being offered. He gestured from the bed to himself and to the door, which he was know aware of as being closed. "Um... have anything for me?"
Angel blinked stupidly, wondering if he was missing some hidden innuendo. "For what?"
Spike paused a second, trying to comprehend the situation. "For the couch..."
"Oh!" Angel colored, and turned away. 'I was kind of thinking that you'd... want to... maybe... y'know."
"Sleep here?"
Angel just nodded, trying not to make a complete fool of himself. "I can get you something..."
"No, no, that's fine, love. Looks a whole lot more comfortable here." He took a seat on the bed, and, as expected, it was an even farther cry from his sorry excuse for a mattress. "Didn't think you'd want me to... temptation and all that."
"I'm sure we can manage," Angel said, trying not to let his relief show too clearly.
"Which side you want?" Spike asked with an evil grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. "Me on the bottom and you on top? Or the other way around."
"You seemed to be pretty comfortable on top before." Angel's grin matched his own in wickedness, though his eyes were soft, almost... loving. He slid under the blankets, opening his arms in invitation. Spike gave a little wiggle of excitement, then buried himself under the sheets. He wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on his chest once again. If he was really honest with himself - which he could be, with it being so late - it was the most comfortable, the most relaxing position he had ever been in. Nothing was going to get to him here. Not with his Angel...
The older man disentangled an arm from where it was resting across his boyfriend's hips and reached over to turn off the bedside light. He lay there in the darkness, just feeling Spike's skin against his, becoming mesmerized by his steady breathing. Carefully, he pulled him more on top of him, holding him close and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his hair. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, and it felt like it stretched well past it's confines and out onto the pillow. "Spike?"
Spike just continued to breath, having fallen asleep before the light was even out. Angel breathed out a laugh, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, the only other they had shared that night. He closed his eyes, feeling more content then he had in a long time.
"Good night, Will."