Fic: Happy Fucking Valentine
A little story set for darker_spike's Valentine's Day ficathon. Of course it got way too long (I didn't know there was a word limit and spent ages looking for the rules only to find them in the sidebar. *headdesk*) and therefor isn't eligible, I guess. *pouts* A little under 1900 words. It's past midnight here but I reckon I have until midnight US time, right?
Anyway, here it is. Spangel. Set in BtVS S4.
Happy Fucking Valentine
“Happy fucking Valentine.”
The bottle hit the wall with a loud crash, splinters of glass raining over the dark alley, a few shards cutting his face so blood ran down his cheek. A rat fled from behind a duster, disappearing through a crack in the opposite wall.
“Yeah, you run! Run away from the big bad vampire!” He laughed, a hoarse joyless laughter filled with bitterness. “Rats! What grand company I keep these days.”
He snorted and searched his pockets, finally pulling up a crumbled pack of cigarettes. Jerked shaking produced one stick left and he put it between his lips before twisting the empty packet violently and throwing it the same way as the bottle. It took some swearing but he finally managed to produce a small flame from his almost empty lighter and drew in the warm smoke, a look of bliss on his face. Glancing up he saw two beady eyes glimmering in the dark.
“Sorry, luv. Just got the one.” He pulled another drag then huffed out smoke rings that slowly dissolved into the night. “You were a poor date anyway.”
“You screwing rats these days, Spike? How the mighty have fallen.”
He didn't turn around, refusing to reveal his shock at being caught so completely unaware, but blew out smoke through his nostrils as he clenched his jaw. “Fuck off.”
“Tsk, tsk. Is that really the way to greet your good old Sire?”
“Good? Chyeah, right. Old? No denying that. Sire?” He finally looked up, eyes glowering. “You lost the right to that title decades ago, mate. You're nothing to me now except an embarrassment and a bloody nuisance.”
Angel's cool façade faltered somewhat but he quickly smoothed it out with a smirk. “That so? I somehow find that hard to believe.” He kicked off from the wall and sauntered over, stopping only inches from where Spike sat. Spike averted his eyes, refusing to look where Angel obviously intended him to.
“Jesus, you stink! Been sleeping with rats for long?”
Spike snarled, throwing away the stub of his fag, and rolled to his side, attempting to get to his wobbly feet. “I'd think that'd feel just like home to you, Angel. That's why you're here? Feeling homesick? Pining for a family reunion?”
Angel laughed cruelly. “You're not family, Spike. You never were.”
Spike stilled, leaning against the wall for a moment before straightening up, swaying slightly. “I was talking about the rats.” He pushed off the wall and started walking unsteadily away. “Goodbye, Liam. Have a miserable eternity.”
He got to the end of the alley only to find Angel already waiting for him. Show-off. He ignored him, trying to focus with blurred eyes on a fixed point across the street, hoping he'd make it there before a car came along to knock him over. It proved harder than he'd anticipated, especially since the sodding lamppost he was aiming at kept moving. Angel strolled lazily beside him, whistling to himself some annoying melody. Spike stopped and hunched over, his stomach threatening to overturn one more time. After a few deep breaths he straightened up again and glared at Angel.
“Spit it out then. What do you want? Come here to tell me to stay the hell away from your girlfriend?” He snorted. “I'll save you the trouble. Can't kill. Can't fight. Can't even nibble her pretty little neck. So sod off!”
He pulled the coat tighter around his body and stumbled on, this time trailed by a quiet Angel. Well, at least it was better than the bloody whistling.
As he came closer to the cemetery he slowed down, not really wanting Angel to know where he was staying these days. “Look, I think you're lost. The Slayer's house is that way. Run along now like a good puppy and leave me the hell alone!” He screamed the last words, unable to keep up the act any longer. He was too bloody tired and everything hurt. He just wanted to get back to his crypt, fall onto his miserable excuse of a mattress and pass out for hopefully long enough to heal. Which was why he was getting increasingly pissed off at Angel who just stood there like a big ugly ogre, staring at him.
“What happened to you? You're a mess, Spike. And you're not half as drunk as you're trying to act.”
“Never said I was drunk, did I? Only had half a bottle.” He sped up as much as he could, even if he knew there was no chance of getting rid off Angel now.
“Then why are you...?” Angel snapped his mouth shut and grabbed Spike by the arm, turning him toward him before pulling his coat apart. There was a gashing wound in his side, blood flowing freely. “Shit, Spike! Who did this?”
“Someone. Everyone. Does it matter?”
He tried to twist away but Angel grabbed his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. He lifted the tattered shirt and examined the wound silently. It would heal but it needed stitches.
“Where else?”
“Fuck off, Angel. Don't act like you care because...”
“Where else?”
Spike closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Right knee's smashed up. Head kicked in, can't see straight. And...” He swallowed. “Hungry. Haven't eaten in a week at least.”
“I can see that. You look like a skeleton, Will.”
“Don't.”
Angel looked up, a frown of confusion on his face. “What?” Then it dawned on him and he stepped back. “Right. No, of course not.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment or until Spike started sliding down the wall, his knees giving in.
“Whoa there. Better get you patched up.”
He considered arguing but he hardly had the strength to keep conscious let alone think so he allowed Angel to support him and weakly pointed toward his crypt. “Just be sure to wipe your fee...”
Everything went black.
He woke up to something wet sliding over his body. In his mind he pictured slimy snakes and jerked up only to fall back down on the pillows, gasping for breath as pain stabbed his belly.
“Be still. You'll break the stitches.”
“Angel?” His vision was still blurred but he could see Angel clearer now thanks to the soft light in the crypt and the fact that he was leaning over him only inches away.
“Wha-what are you doing?”
Angel raised his hand, showing him the bloody cloth. “Washing away the blood.”
“Oh. Okay.” He closed his eyes again. Now that he knew what it was it actually felt rather good. A bit too good to tell the truth. “Erm... Angel? Think that's enough.”
“Stop whining and be still.” Angel moved the sheet aside which was when Spike realised he was absolutely naked.
“Angel!”
“What? Stop being such a baby. Nothing I haven't seen before.” Angel chuckled. “Although I must say it's nice at least a part of you missed me.”
“It's not... You're giving me a fucking spongebath, mate! It thinks you're a pretty nurse in a white uniform, just waiting to shove a thermometer up my arse!” He groaned as his cock twitched as if to emphasize his words.
“Yeah?” Angel smirked. “It's gotten awfully advanced, having thoughts and fantasies of its own, completely independent from yours.”
“Oh shut up!” He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to swallow the moan as Angel moved further down, stroking the inside of his thigh with the wet cloth. “Got nothing to do with you. Just haven't had a decent shag in weeks if you must know.”
“Aaww, poor thing.” Angel dropped the cloth in the bowl of water and stroke a finger up the length of Spike's straining cock that jumped in response, making Spike moan out loud this time. “Won't be able to in a while yet. Not with that wound. Unless...” He paused, a look of deep thought on his face.
“Unless what?”
“You want me to take care of that for you?”
“Oh that's funny. You're bloody funny tonight.” He couldn't help licking his lip though which brought a glint off gold to Angel's eyes. “Since when do you give blowjobs, Angel?”
“Who said anything about giving? Nothing comes for free, you should know that by now.”
Spike shrunk back, weary of the look in Angel's eyes. “What do you want? If you're looking for a shag I think you can just as well cut open those nice stitches of yours. Not exactly feeling up to any heavy panting right now.”
“Oh, I'm definitely looking for a 'shag' but I can wait. That wound should have healed nicely in a day or two. Until then...” He started slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I do you? You do me.”
Spike frowned. “What? I can hardly move and you want me to blow you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“The way I'm visioning this you don't have to move at all.” Angel kicked off his shoes and loosened the belt on his pants, his eyes never leaving Spike's. “What do you say?”
“What do I...? Are you pretending I have any choice in this? I say no and you're going to walk away?” He shook his head in disbelieve.
Angel stilled. “You think I'd force myself on you?”
He pouted. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
Angel watched him for a moment then walked over and sat on the bed, running his finger lightly down Spike's chest. “I won't force myself on you, in fact even if you say no I'll still... blow you.” He looked down and smiled softly. “You look like you could use some happy time.”
Spike stared at him. “I don't get it. What are you plotting?”
Angel sighed. “Nothing. I'm not plotting anything. I just...” He looked away, clenching his jaw. “If you want to know the truth I went to see Buffy, a little Valentine's Day surprise. Except she wasn't alone. And... I could use some happy time myself. Not too happy. Just a tiny level higher than miserable.”
Spike studied him for a while, frowning. “So the Slayer blew you off so you want me to blow you, that's it? I'm your rebound guy?”
“Erm...” Angel had the decency to look sheepish. “Yes?”
Spike grinned. “Well, I can live with that.”
Angel straightened up. “You can? I mean... yeah. You need sex. I need sex. I see no problem there.”
“Right then. Get the rest of your kit off.”
Angel smiled and stood up, slowly pulling down the zipper on his pants. “I think you're perking up already.”
Draping his pants over a chair he climbed up on the bed and let his eyes wander over Spike's body before pulling him in for a rough kiss. “You remember the Valentine's Day game, don't you Spike?”
“Thought I wasn't family.” He pouted sulkily.
Angel ran his tongue up his chest, sucking his nipple into his mouth before looking up, smiling apologetically. “Since when do you listen to anything I say?”
Spike quirked his eyebrow then gave him his wickedest smile. “Give it to me then, 'daddy'.”
He closed his eyes and moaned as Angel latched on to his nipple again, pinching the other between his fingers.
Happy fucking Valentine. Not such a bad day after all it turned out.
fin
Anyway, here it is. Spangel. Set in BtVS S4.
Happy Fucking Valentine
“Happy fucking Valentine.”
The bottle hit the wall with a loud crash, splinters of glass raining over the dark alley, a few shards cutting his face so blood ran down his cheek. A rat fled from behind a duster, disappearing through a crack in the opposite wall.
“Yeah, you run! Run away from the big bad vampire!” He laughed, a hoarse joyless laughter filled with bitterness. “Rats! What grand company I keep these days.”
He snorted and searched his pockets, finally pulling up a crumbled pack of cigarettes. Jerked shaking produced one stick left and he put it between his lips before twisting the empty packet violently and throwing it the same way as the bottle. It took some swearing but he finally managed to produce a small flame from his almost empty lighter and drew in the warm smoke, a look of bliss on his face. Glancing up he saw two beady eyes glimmering in the dark.
“Sorry, luv. Just got the one.” He pulled another drag then huffed out smoke rings that slowly dissolved into the night. “You were a poor date anyway.”
“You screwing rats these days, Spike? How the mighty have fallen.”
He didn't turn around, refusing to reveal his shock at being caught so completely unaware, but blew out smoke through his nostrils as he clenched his jaw. “Fuck off.”
“Tsk, tsk. Is that really the way to greet your good old Sire?”
“Good? Chyeah, right. Old? No denying that. Sire?” He finally looked up, eyes glowering. “You lost the right to that title decades ago, mate. You're nothing to me now except an embarrassment and a bloody nuisance.”
Angel's cool façade faltered somewhat but he quickly smoothed it out with a smirk. “That so? I somehow find that hard to believe.” He kicked off from the wall and sauntered over, stopping only inches from where Spike sat. Spike averted his eyes, refusing to look where Angel obviously intended him to.
“Jesus, you stink! Been sleeping with rats for long?”
Spike snarled, throwing away the stub of his fag, and rolled to his side, attempting to get to his wobbly feet. “I'd think that'd feel just like home to you, Angel. That's why you're here? Feeling homesick? Pining for a family reunion?”
Angel laughed cruelly. “You're not family, Spike. You never were.”
Spike stilled, leaning against the wall for a moment before straightening up, swaying slightly. “I was talking about the rats.” He pushed off the wall and started walking unsteadily away. “Goodbye, Liam. Have a miserable eternity.”
He got to the end of the alley only to find Angel already waiting for him. Show-off. He ignored him, trying to focus with blurred eyes on a fixed point across the street, hoping he'd make it there before a car came along to knock him over. It proved harder than he'd anticipated, especially since the sodding lamppost he was aiming at kept moving. Angel strolled lazily beside him, whistling to himself some annoying melody. Spike stopped and hunched over, his stomach threatening to overturn one more time. After a few deep breaths he straightened up again and glared at Angel.
“Spit it out then. What do you want? Come here to tell me to stay the hell away from your girlfriend?” He snorted. “I'll save you the trouble. Can't kill. Can't fight. Can't even nibble her pretty little neck. So sod off!”
He pulled the coat tighter around his body and stumbled on, this time trailed by a quiet Angel. Well, at least it was better than the bloody whistling.
As he came closer to the cemetery he slowed down, not really wanting Angel to know where he was staying these days. “Look, I think you're lost. The Slayer's house is that way. Run along now like a good puppy and leave me the hell alone!” He screamed the last words, unable to keep up the act any longer. He was too bloody tired and everything hurt. He just wanted to get back to his crypt, fall onto his miserable excuse of a mattress and pass out for hopefully long enough to heal. Which was why he was getting increasingly pissed off at Angel who just stood there like a big ugly ogre, staring at him.
“What happened to you? You're a mess, Spike. And you're not half as drunk as you're trying to act.”
“Never said I was drunk, did I? Only had half a bottle.” He sped up as much as he could, even if he knew there was no chance of getting rid off Angel now.
“Then why are you...?” Angel snapped his mouth shut and grabbed Spike by the arm, turning him toward him before pulling his coat apart. There was a gashing wound in his side, blood flowing freely. “Shit, Spike! Who did this?”
“Someone. Everyone. Does it matter?”
He tried to twist away but Angel grabbed his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. He lifted the tattered shirt and examined the wound silently. It would heal but it needed stitches.
“Where else?”
“Fuck off, Angel. Don't act like you care because...”
“Where else?”
Spike closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Right knee's smashed up. Head kicked in, can't see straight. And...” He swallowed. “Hungry. Haven't eaten in a week at least.”
“I can see that. You look like a skeleton, Will.”
“Don't.”
Angel looked up, a frown of confusion on his face. “What?” Then it dawned on him and he stepped back. “Right. No, of course not.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment or until Spike started sliding down the wall, his knees giving in.
“Whoa there. Better get you patched up.”
He considered arguing but he hardly had the strength to keep conscious let alone think so he allowed Angel to support him and weakly pointed toward his crypt. “Just be sure to wipe your fee...”
Everything went black.
He woke up to something wet sliding over his body. In his mind he pictured slimy snakes and jerked up only to fall back down on the pillows, gasping for breath as pain stabbed his belly.
“Be still. You'll break the stitches.”
“Angel?” His vision was still blurred but he could see Angel clearer now thanks to the soft light in the crypt and the fact that he was leaning over him only inches away.
“Wha-what are you doing?”
Angel raised his hand, showing him the bloody cloth. “Washing away the blood.”
“Oh. Okay.” He closed his eyes again. Now that he knew what it was it actually felt rather good. A bit too good to tell the truth. “Erm... Angel? Think that's enough.”
“Stop whining and be still.” Angel moved the sheet aside which was when Spike realised he was absolutely naked.
“Angel!”
“What? Stop being such a baby. Nothing I haven't seen before.” Angel chuckled. “Although I must say it's nice at least a part of you missed me.”
“It's not... You're giving me a fucking spongebath, mate! It thinks you're a pretty nurse in a white uniform, just waiting to shove a thermometer up my arse!” He groaned as his cock twitched as if to emphasize his words.
“Yeah?” Angel smirked. “It's gotten awfully advanced, having thoughts and fantasies of its own, completely independent from yours.”
“Oh shut up!” He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to swallow the moan as Angel moved further down, stroking the inside of his thigh with the wet cloth. “Got nothing to do with you. Just haven't had a decent shag in weeks if you must know.”
“Aaww, poor thing.” Angel dropped the cloth in the bowl of water and stroke a finger up the length of Spike's straining cock that jumped in response, making Spike moan out loud this time. “Won't be able to in a while yet. Not with that wound. Unless...” He paused, a look of deep thought on his face.
“Unless what?”
“You want me to take care of that for you?”
“Oh that's funny. You're bloody funny tonight.” He couldn't help licking his lip though which brought a glint off gold to Angel's eyes. “Since when do you give blowjobs, Angel?”
“Who said anything about giving? Nothing comes for free, you should know that by now.”
Spike shrunk back, weary of the look in Angel's eyes. “What do you want? If you're looking for a shag I think you can just as well cut open those nice stitches of yours. Not exactly feeling up to any heavy panting right now.”
“Oh, I'm definitely looking for a 'shag' but I can wait. That wound should have healed nicely in a day or two. Until then...” He started slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I do you? You do me.”
Spike frowned. “What? I can hardly move and you want me to blow you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“The way I'm visioning this you don't have to move at all.” Angel kicked off his shoes and loosened the belt on his pants, his eyes never leaving Spike's. “What do you say?”
“What do I...? Are you pretending I have any choice in this? I say no and you're going to walk away?” He shook his head in disbelieve.
Angel stilled. “You think I'd force myself on you?”
He pouted. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
Angel watched him for a moment then walked over and sat on the bed, running his finger lightly down Spike's chest. “I won't force myself on you, in fact even if you say no I'll still... blow you.” He looked down and smiled softly. “You look like you could use some happy time.”
Spike stared at him. “I don't get it. What are you plotting?”
Angel sighed. “Nothing. I'm not plotting anything. I just...” He looked away, clenching his jaw. “If you want to know the truth I went to see Buffy, a little Valentine's Day surprise. Except she wasn't alone. And... I could use some happy time myself. Not too happy. Just a tiny level higher than miserable.”
Spike studied him for a while, frowning. “So the Slayer blew you off so you want me to blow you, that's it? I'm your rebound guy?”
“Erm...” Angel had the decency to look sheepish. “Yes?”
Spike grinned. “Well, I can live with that.”
Angel straightened up. “You can? I mean... yeah. You need sex. I need sex. I see no problem there.”
“Right then. Get the rest of your kit off.”
Angel smiled and stood up, slowly pulling down the zipper on his pants. “I think you're perking up already.”
Draping his pants over a chair he climbed up on the bed and let his eyes wander over Spike's body before pulling him in for a rough kiss. “You remember the Valentine's Day game, don't you Spike?”
“Thought I wasn't family.” He pouted sulkily.
Angel ran his tongue up his chest, sucking his nipple into his mouth before looking up, smiling apologetically. “Since when do you listen to anything I say?”
Spike quirked his eyebrow then gave him his wickedest smile. “Give it to me then, 'daddy'.”
He closed his eyes and moaned as Angel latched on to his nipple again, pinching the other between his fingers.
Happy fucking Valentine. Not such a bad day after all it turned out.
fin