Acceptable Losses: Chapter 2 of ?
Title: Acceptable Losses
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for sexy Spangel-y action in this chapter.
Summary: Spike and Angel are making a go of it after returning from Hell in Angel: After the Fall. Unfortunately, being a single vampire dad living with your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and Journalism major son makes Hell seem almost preferable.
A/N: This was supposed to be my submission for xmas_n_july, but I didn't get it completed in time. This is also my first full-length Spike/Angel fanfic.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Two: Growing Pain.
Lugging two not-insignificantly-sized boxes up a flight of stairs was no easy task, even for a vampire. It was a whole balance issue. Angel braced his shoulder against the wall to avoid taking a misstep and tumbling back down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder momentarily to see Spike sitting on the landing below fiddling with his Eye-Frog or Pea-Pod or whatever those flashy new music players were called.
“Seriously, Spike, grab a box and move your scrawny ass,” Angel said, trudging up the stairs with his armload of office equipment.
“Yeah, yeah, stop your grousin’,” Spike replied, rolling his eyes as he slipped on his i-Pod’s headphones. “I need to get the right playlist going to get me in the mood to expend effort.”
Angel dropped his boxes outside of the door to the new location of Angel Investigations, reaching into his pocket for the keys. “It’s one flight of stairs, you moron, and you have preternatural strength. It wouldn’t take nearly as long if you’d just get up and help.”
“I have this theory that if I get the right songs in the perfect order that the work will go by really fast and will feel like one of those montages in an 80’s movie,” Spike responded matter-of-factly as he picked up a rather minuscule, in Angel’s opinion, box.
Connor brushed past the blonde on the stairs, carrying the tower to one of the new office computers, “Do you even hear yourself when you speak?”
Spike smirked, “Not all the time. Sometimes I talk to make sure that I’m not just hearing the voices in my head.”
“I would appreciate a little less snark from you two today,” Angel said and then muttered, “Breakfast was bad enough.”
“That’s what you get for taking us to the cheapest waffle house in the tri-county area instead of somewhere nice,” Spike replied petulantly, following Angel into the office, which was little more than a room with two second-hand desks cattycornered at either end, and a small washroom was located to the side. The floorboards were bare wood, and the wallpaper was crumbling. It was definitely going to need some sprucing up.
Connor bristled, setting the computer tower rather hard on one of the desks and leaving the room, “It would have been a lot nicer if you didn’t make obscene comments in front of the waitress about what you’d like my father to do to you with the bottles of maple syrup.”
“It’s nothing he hasn’t done to me before!” Spike yelled after the boy, which earned him a cuff on the side of the head from Angel.
“Stop it,” Angel chided, “How would you like it if someone talked about your dad like that in front of you?”
Spike had never really thought of it that way. He and Connor had formed a fairly decent relationship, for lack of a better term, while they were stuck in the hell dimension for all those months. It was very much that of a mentor/apprentice. However, since Spike and Angel had begun having a much more out-of-the-closet-and-into-the-living-room sex life, Connor had grown increasingly crabby. Spike had to admit that he did sort of come in and take over a few things around the apartment, such as redecorating the living room and eating whatever he pleased out of the fridge without thinking if perhaps someone else was saving it… And there was the whole thing with leaving wet towels on the floor in the hall.
“Oh, God, he thinks I’m the wicked step-dad, doesn’t he?” Spike looked horrified. “No! I’m not supposed to be the wicked step-dad! I’m the uncle who’s supposed to be way more fun than you!”
“Just give him some time,” Angel said, “and maybe try not to be overtly sexual?”
Spike gave him a horrified look, “That’s like asking Paris Hilton not to be vapid and irritating!” Off of Angel’s rather annoyed glare, Spike shrugged, “Fine, I’ll try.”
That night back at the apartment, Spike went out, leaving Angel and Connor alone for the first time in weeks. They should have taken the opportunity to talk about how Connor was doing in school or even the weather, just to have a conversation. However, Connor took his dinner into his room to eat alone while Angel tried to figure how to switch the TV channel from BBCAmerica with a remote that had an infinite amount of tiny buttons.
Angel was already in bed when Spike returned at four in the morning. He quietly closed the bedroom door and slinked out of his jacket, jeans, and boots. Crawling into bed wearing only a tank top, Spike kissed Angel’s bare shoulder as he curled up next to him.
“You smell like paint thinner,” Angel murmured, half-asleep.
“I was helping the Duke boys make a still. We’ve gotta move some shine into Georgia before Boss Hogg finds out…”
Angel rolled over, wrapping his muscular arm around Spike’s middle, pulling him closer, “You are the strangest little creature.”
“I’m not little,” Spike replied.
Even with his eyes closed, Angel could feel the power of the Spike’s pout. Before the blonde could complain about Angel’s choice in adjectives, the older vampire rolled onto his stomach between Spike’s legs. Pulling down the sheet, he gently bit the swell of Spike’s ass. Spike arched his back, moaning softly.
“You don’t have to do this to get on my good side,” Spike purred, as Angel massaged him.
Parting Spike’s backside, Angel began to lick and kiss his most intimate of places. Spike’s hips jerked involuntarily, his muscles spasming.
“Who said I’m doing this for you?” Angel smirked, teasing and pinching the blonde’s sensitive skin.
Toes curling as he gasped, Spike breathlessly retorted, “Kiss my ass, Peaches.”
Rather than a kiss, Spike received a sharp slap, which was just the kind of play both of them enjoyed, half-sweet and half-wicked. They play-tussled and tackled one another, both fighting to be on top, but it was all just a show since Spike had no desire in playing the alpha unless he was subbing-from-the-top. Somehow both vampires ended up in the master bathroom with Spike bent over the counter taking all the inches Angel had to offer.
Gripping the countertops with enough force for his fingernails to gauge cresent-shaped grooves into the cheap Formica, Spike groaned out, “Would you like me to- oh! Oh!- Would you like me to try working out my oral fixation?”
Angel gave an indignant huff through his nose, “Are you trying make me lose my erection?”
It was a closely guarded secret that Spike had no talent for giving blow jobs; he just tried too hard at being casual and usually was gagging within minutes from taking in too much too fast, which wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing to hear when someone is trying to pleasure you. After his quip, Angel felt Spike’s internal muscles clamp down on him in a painful vise grip.
“OW! Damn it, Will!” Angel stopped mid-thrust, “I was just kidding!”
Spike eased up on his beleaguered boyfriend, but he replied petulantly, “I’ll never get good if I don’t practice.”
Angel began to thrust a little slower, moving his hands up Spike’s back, rubbing the smaller man’s shoulders lovingly. His voice softened, “You don’t have to worry about that, baby. There’s plenty of fun to be had just like this.” Trying to make it up to him, Angel leaned down to kiss Spike’s shoulders, gently stroking the back of his head and neck, but he was growing unresponsive, “Hey, come on, I was just teasing. What happened to the rule about no brooding during sex?”
“Not brooding,” Spike was most definitely brooding.
Removing himself completely from Spike’s body, Angel stood the blonde up and turned him around so he could face him. “Please don’t let me be the one who spoiled the mood,” Angel held Spike’s face as he kissed his lips, his thumb’s resting in the hollows of the thinner man’s cheekbones.
“You didn’t,” Spike sighed, “it’s my fault. I’m being stupid.” He tried to relax, draping his arms around Angel’s shoulders, their foreheads resting against one another.
Angel smiled, “Didn’t think I’d ever here that come out of your mouth.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Spike brightened a little. He hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter and spread his legs, “Let’s try this again.”
“That’s my boy,” Angel wrapped the smaller man’s legs around his waist, realigning himself with Spike’s already slick opening.
As he pushed inside, Angel felt Spike’s body melt against his own, warm yet cool, firm yet soft and supple. Spike rested his head on Angel’s shoulder. They were really trying to make a go of this whole “relationship” business, finding a happy medium between their bickering, their easily bruised egos, and the fantastically phenomenal sex. It was a tough road, but it seemed to be working.
Angel was reaching the brink of orgasm as he whispered huskily in Spike’s ear, “Are you ready, baby?”
The only the reply that came was a snore.
“Spike?” Angel paused momentarily.
The blonde’s head lolled backwards, and Angel had to catch him before his skull could crack against the mirror. Spike was fast asleep, his mouth open as he continued snoring.
“You’re not doing anything for my self-esteem here, William,” Angel chided, nipping and placing firm kisses on Spike’s neck.
“’m sorry,” Spike mumbled, his whole body going slack. “Finish without me…”
Angel laughed good naturedly, “Don’t think so.”
Still thrusting into his boy’s pliant body, Angel reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a silicon ring, which was quickly slipped onto Spike’s penis. With a quick flip of a small switch, the ring began to vibrate.
Spike’s blue eyes were suddenly wide open. He gasped as he gripped Angel’s shoulders tightly.
“Oh, God!” Spike bit his lip hard enough to break the skin as he tried to hold back any louder outbursts for fear of waking Connor.
Angel captured the tiny beads of blood that welled up on Spike’s full bottom lip with his tongue. Taking advantage of this sudden return to consciousness, Angel placed his hand over Spike’s member, palming the sensitive tip.
“Please, Angel,” Spike begged. He was all too aware of how pretty he was when he was begging, all big blue eyes and unruly white-blonde curls falling onto his forehead.
Without needing to say anything more, they arrived at their climaxes together. Spike leaned against Angel, breathing heavily as the last of his spendings left him with a shudder.
“You’re amazing, baby,” Angel groaned as he pulled himself free from Spike’s body. “Spike?”
Spike had collapsed against him, asleep once more.
Angel shook his head with a smile, “Sure, leave all the clean up for me.”
Turning on the sink, Angel took the silicon ring and rinsed it off before tossing it back in the drawer. Once both of their bodies were clean enough to not warrant sheet-washing in the morning, Angel carried Spike back to bed, feeling the blonde curl up next to his once they were both under the bedclothes.
A long sleep, however, was not to be had as Connor was up a few hours later, slamming the cabinets in the kitchen as he rummaged for breakfast. Spike whinged pitifully, pulling his pillow over his head. Angel peered at the clock through half-closed eyes and bemoaned his son’s propensity for getting up before ten in the morning.
Breakfast was uncomfortable. Spike was stretched on the sofa with a cool compress over his eyes, complaining of a headache like some kind of dime store romance novel waif, while Angel was microwaving blood for two. Connor sat at the kitchen island, glaring daggers at a bowl of Post Toasties.
There was total silence in the car on their way to the office, except for Spike’s constant yawning. Connor insisted that they get started with the clean-up so that he could put up more flyers in the area before dark. Angel was just grateful that the building which housed their office had an underground parking garage so that he and Spike didn’t have to do a mad dash to get out of the sunlight.
While Connor was going over his checklist of everything that needed to be cleaned and/or repaired, Angel pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
“And I think we should at least attempt to de-louse the bathroom today. I know I’m the only one who’ll be using it, but I would rather not have to bother the C.P.A next door to use his… I got up half the stack of the new flyers up last night. I think I can get through the rest this afternoon,” Connor stuck his pencil behind his ear, but Spike quietly took it from him. “What the hell, Spike?”
“You shouldn’t keep it there. If you fall, a piece could break off and go straight into your eye,” Spike said, placing the pencil behind his own ear.
Connor rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Angel opened the door, looking over his shoulder at Spike and Connor, “Let’s not have a repeat of yesterday, all right? We’ll get to work, and we’ll all feel a lot better-” He was stopped in his tracks as he got a full view of the office.
To his surprise, the office was spotless and well-organized. Everything had been unpacked and arranged. The crumbling wallpaper had been replaced, and a fresh coat of paint was on the trim. Connor’s computer had been set up on the desk next to Angel’s while Spike’s laptop was on a small escritoire in the corner. There were ornate, if a tad threadbare, rugs on the floors.
“Careful about meandering too close to the walls. I think that the paint’s still wet,” Spike said, slipping past Angel into the office. "I cleaned the bathroom too, but I kinda shoved the drop-cloths and extra paint in there last night."
Connor peered around his father’s shoulder and got his first look at the redecorated office, “Wow…”
Angel was apparently frozen in place, taking everything in. Spike had brought in more furniture- a couch, coffee table, and he was fairly certain that the lighting fixtures had been replaced with newer brass ones. All the woods and leathers were deep, rich browns; and the wallpaper, pillows, and accents were an Oz-ish verdant green. It had the appearance of a Victorian gentlemen’s lounge, but with a certain cozy, homey quality.
When he was finally able to regain the power of speech, Angel asked as he and Connor entered the office, shutting the door behind them, “Did you do all this last night?”
Spike began preparing tea on a small hotplate on a side table that ran along the back wall. “Well, I’ve been collecting pieces of furniture like the couch and chairs since we started looking for office space. You’d be amazed what the stuff you find at the junk stores can look like with just a bit of spit and polish.”
Connor ran his hand over the desk with his desktop PC, “I thought you were going to use this for your desk?”
“Yeah, I was,” Spike shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “but I figure you need more space for that hunk of metal you call a computer. My superior MacBook doesn’t take up that much space”
“That’s very economical of you,” Connor smiled, obviously appreciative.
As they were getting settled, an urgent knock came at the door. The three intrepid detectives shared glances with one another as Spike went to open the door. Four young girls, none over the age of fifteen, stood huddled in the hallway, disheveled and bedraggled.
The tallest of the girls held up one of Connor’s bright orange Angel Investigations flyers and said, “Do you know anything about Slayers?”
To be continued....
Previous Chapters: One.
x-posted on nekid_spike.
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for sexy Spangel-y action in this chapter.
Summary: Spike and Angel are making a go of it after returning from Hell in Angel: After the Fall. Unfortunately, being a single vampire dad living with your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and Journalism major son makes Hell seem almost preferable.
A/N: This was supposed to be my submission for xmas_n_july, but I didn't get it completed in time. This is also my first full-length Spike/Angel fanfic.
Acceptable Losses
Chapter Two: Growing Pain.
Lugging two not-insignificantly-sized boxes up a flight of stairs was no easy task, even for a vampire. It was a whole balance issue. Angel braced his shoulder against the wall to avoid taking a misstep and tumbling back down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder momentarily to see Spike sitting on the landing below fiddling with his Eye-Frog or Pea-Pod or whatever those flashy new music players were called.
“Seriously, Spike, grab a box and move your scrawny ass,” Angel said, trudging up the stairs with his armload of office equipment.
“Yeah, yeah, stop your grousin’,” Spike replied, rolling his eyes as he slipped on his i-Pod’s headphones. “I need to get the right playlist going to get me in the mood to expend effort.”
Angel dropped his boxes outside of the door to the new location of Angel Investigations, reaching into his pocket for the keys. “It’s one flight of stairs, you moron, and you have preternatural strength. It wouldn’t take nearly as long if you’d just get up and help.”
“I have this theory that if I get the right songs in the perfect order that the work will go by really fast and will feel like one of those montages in an 80’s movie,” Spike responded matter-of-factly as he picked up a rather minuscule, in Angel’s opinion, box.
Connor brushed past the blonde on the stairs, carrying the tower to one of the new office computers, “Do you even hear yourself when you speak?”
Spike smirked, “Not all the time. Sometimes I talk to make sure that I’m not just hearing the voices in my head.”
“I would appreciate a little less snark from you two today,” Angel said and then muttered, “Breakfast was bad enough.”
“That’s what you get for taking us to the cheapest waffle house in the tri-county area instead of somewhere nice,” Spike replied petulantly, following Angel into the office, which was little more than a room with two second-hand desks cattycornered at either end, and a small washroom was located to the side. The floorboards were bare wood, and the wallpaper was crumbling. It was definitely going to need some sprucing up.
Connor bristled, setting the computer tower rather hard on one of the desks and leaving the room, “It would have been a lot nicer if you didn’t make obscene comments in front of the waitress about what you’d like my father to do to you with the bottles of maple syrup.”
“It’s nothing he hasn’t done to me before!” Spike yelled after the boy, which earned him a cuff on the side of the head from Angel.
“Stop it,” Angel chided, “How would you like it if someone talked about your dad like that in front of you?”
Spike had never really thought of it that way. He and Connor had formed a fairly decent relationship, for lack of a better term, while they were stuck in the hell dimension for all those months. It was very much that of a mentor/apprentice. However, since Spike and Angel had begun having a much more out-of-the-closet-and-into-the-living-room sex life, Connor had grown increasingly crabby. Spike had to admit that he did sort of come in and take over a few things around the apartment, such as redecorating the living room and eating whatever he pleased out of the fridge without thinking if perhaps someone else was saving it… And there was the whole thing with leaving wet towels on the floor in the hall.
“Oh, God, he thinks I’m the wicked step-dad, doesn’t he?” Spike looked horrified. “No! I’m not supposed to be the wicked step-dad! I’m the uncle who’s supposed to be way more fun than you!”
“Just give him some time,” Angel said, “and maybe try not to be overtly sexual?”
Spike gave him a horrified look, “That’s like asking Paris Hilton not to be vapid and irritating!” Off of Angel’s rather annoyed glare, Spike shrugged, “Fine, I’ll try.”
That night back at the apartment, Spike went out, leaving Angel and Connor alone for the first time in weeks. They should have taken the opportunity to talk about how Connor was doing in school or even the weather, just to have a conversation. However, Connor took his dinner into his room to eat alone while Angel tried to figure how to switch the TV channel from BBCAmerica with a remote that had an infinite amount of tiny buttons.
Angel was already in bed when Spike returned at four in the morning. He quietly closed the bedroom door and slinked out of his jacket, jeans, and boots. Crawling into bed wearing only a tank top, Spike kissed Angel’s bare shoulder as he curled up next to him.
“You smell like paint thinner,” Angel murmured, half-asleep.
“I was helping the Duke boys make a still. We’ve gotta move some shine into Georgia before Boss Hogg finds out…”
Angel rolled over, wrapping his muscular arm around Spike’s middle, pulling him closer, “You are the strangest little creature.”
“I’m not little,” Spike replied.
Even with his eyes closed, Angel could feel the power of the Spike’s pout. Before the blonde could complain about Angel’s choice in adjectives, the older vampire rolled onto his stomach between Spike’s legs. Pulling down the sheet, he gently bit the swell of Spike’s ass. Spike arched his back, moaning softly.
“You don’t have to do this to get on my good side,” Spike purred, as Angel massaged him.
Parting Spike’s backside, Angel began to lick and kiss his most intimate of places. Spike’s hips jerked involuntarily, his muscles spasming.
“Who said I’m doing this for you?” Angel smirked, teasing and pinching the blonde’s sensitive skin.
Toes curling as he gasped, Spike breathlessly retorted, “Kiss my ass, Peaches.”
Rather than a kiss, Spike received a sharp slap, which was just the kind of play both of them enjoyed, half-sweet and half-wicked. They play-tussled and tackled one another, both fighting to be on top, but it was all just a show since Spike had no desire in playing the alpha unless he was subbing-from-the-top. Somehow both vampires ended up in the master bathroom with Spike bent over the counter taking all the inches Angel had to offer.
Gripping the countertops with enough force for his fingernails to gauge cresent-shaped grooves into the cheap Formica, Spike groaned out, “Would you like me to- oh! Oh!- Would you like me to try working out my oral fixation?”
Angel gave an indignant huff through his nose, “Are you trying make me lose my erection?”
It was a closely guarded secret that Spike had no talent for giving blow jobs; he just tried too hard at being casual and usually was gagging within minutes from taking in too much too fast, which wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing to hear when someone is trying to pleasure you. After his quip, Angel felt Spike’s internal muscles clamp down on him in a painful vise grip.
“OW! Damn it, Will!” Angel stopped mid-thrust, “I was just kidding!”
Spike eased up on his beleaguered boyfriend, but he replied petulantly, “I’ll never get good if I don’t practice.”
Angel began to thrust a little slower, moving his hands up Spike’s back, rubbing the smaller man’s shoulders lovingly. His voice softened, “You don’t have to worry about that, baby. There’s plenty of fun to be had just like this.” Trying to make it up to him, Angel leaned down to kiss Spike’s shoulders, gently stroking the back of his head and neck, but he was growing unresponsive, “Hey, come on, I was just teasing. What happened to the rule about no brooding during sex?”
“Not brooding,” Spike was most definitely brooding.
Removing himself completely from Spike’s body, Angel stood the blonde up and turned him around so he could face him. “Please don’t let me be the one who spoiled the mood,” Angel held Spike’s face as he kissed his lips, his thumb’s resting in the hollows of the thinner man’s cheekbones.
“You didn’t,” Spike sighed, “it’s my fault. I’m being stupid.” He tried to relax, draping his arms around Angel’s shoulders, their foreheads resting against one another.
Angel smiled, “Didn’t think I’d ever here that come out of your mouth.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Spike brightened a little. He hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter and spread his legs, “Let’s try this again.”
“That’s my boy,” Angel wrapped the smaller man’s legs around his waist, realigning himself with Spike’s already slick opening.
As he pushed inside, Angel felt Spike’s body melt against his own, warm yet cool, firm yet soft and supple. Spike rested his head on Angel’s shoulder. They were really trying to make a go of this whole “relationship” business, finding a happy medium between their bickering, their easily bruised egos, and the fantastically phenomenal sex. It was a tough road, but it seemed to be working.
Angel was reaching the brink of orgasm as he whispered huskily in Spike’s ear, “Are you ready, baby?”
The only the reply that came was a snore.
“Spike?” Angel paused momentarily.
The blonde’s head lolled backwards, and Angel had to catch him before his skull could crack against the mirror. Spike was fast asleep, his mouth open as he continued snoring.
“You’re not doing anything for my self-esteem here, William,” Angel chided, nipping and placing firm kisses on Spike’s neck.
“’m sorry,” Spike mumbled, his whole body going slack. “Finish without me…”
Angel laughed good naturedly, “Don’t think so.”
Still thrusting into his boy’s pliant body, Angel reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a silicon ring, which was quickly slipped onto Spike’s penis. With a quick flip of a small switch, the ring began to vibrate.
Spike’s blue eyes were suddenly wide open. He gasped as he gripped Angel’s shoulders tightly.
“Oh, God!” Spike bit his lip hard enough to break the skin as he tried to hold back any louder outbursts for fear of waking Connor.
Angel captured the tiny beads of blood that welled up on Spike’s full bottom lip with his tongue. Taking advantage of this sudden return to consciousness, Angel placed his hand over Spike’s member, palming the sensitive tip.
“Please, Angel,” Spike begged. He was all too aware of how pretty he was when he was begging, all big blue eyes and unruly white-blonde curls falling onto his forehead.
Without needing to say anything more, they arrived at their climaxes together. Spike leaned against Angel, breathing heavily as the last of his spendings left him with a shudder.
“You’re amazing, baby,” Angel groaned as he pulled himself free from Spike’s body. “Spike?”
Spike had collapsed against him, asleep once more.
Angel shook his head with a smile, “Sure, leave all the clean up for me.”
Turning on the sink, Angel took the silicon ring and rinsed it off before tossing it back in the drawer. Once both of their bodies were clean enough to not warrant sheet-washing in the morning, Angel carried Spike back to bed, feeling the blonde curl up next to his once they were both under the bedclothes.
A long sleep, however, was not to be had as Connor was up a few hours later, slamming the cabinets in the kitchen as he rummaged for breakfast. Spike whinged pitifully, pulling his pillow over his head. Angel peered at the clock through half-closed eyes and bemoaned his son’s propensity for getting up before ten in the morning.
Breakfast was uncomfortable. Spike was stretched on the sofa with a cool compress over his eyes, complaining of a headache like some kind of dime store romance novel waif, while Angel was microwaving blood for two. Connor sat at the kitchen island, glaring daggers at a bowl of Post Toasties.
There was total silence in the car on their way to the office, except for Spike’s constant yawning. Connor insisted that they get started with the clean-up so that he could put up more flyers in the area before dark. Angel was just grateful that the building which housed their office had an underground parking garage so that he and Spike didn’t have to do a mad dash to get out of the sunlight.
While Connor was going over his checklist of everything that needed to be cleaned and/or repaired, Angel pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
“And I think we should at least attempt to de-louse the bathroom today. I know I’m the only one who’ll be using it, but I would rather not have to bother the C.P.A next door to use his… I got up half the stack of the new flyers up last night. I think I can get through the rest this afternoon,” Connor stuck his pencil behind his ear, but Spike quietly took it from him. “What the hell, Spike?”
“You shouldn’t keep it there. If you fall, a piece could break off and go straight into your eye,” Spike said, placing the pencil behind his own ear.
Connor rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Angel opened the door, looking over his shoulder at Spike and Connor, “Let’s not have a repeat of yesterday, all right? We’ll get to work, and we’ll all feel a lot better-” He was stopped in his tracks as he got a full view of the office.
To his surprise, the office was spotless and well-organized. Everything had been unpacked and arranged. The crumbling wallpaper had been replaced, and a fresh coat of paint was on the trim. Connor’s computer had been set up on the desk next to Angel’s while Spike’s laptop was on a small escritoire in the corner. There were ornate, if a tad threadbare, rugs on the floors.
“Careful about meandering too close to the walls. I think that the paint’s still wet,” Spike said, slipping past Angel into the office. "I cleaned the bathroom too, but I kinda shoved the drop-cloths and extra paint in there last night."
Connor peered around his father’s shoulder and got his first look at the redecorated office, “Wow…”
Angel was apparently frozen in place, taking everything in. Spike had brought in more furniture- a couch, coffee table, and he was fairly certain that the lighting fixtures had been replaced with newer brass ones. All the woods and leathers were deep, rich browns; and the wallpaper, pillows, and accents were an Oz-ish verdant green. It had the appearance of a Victorian gentlemen’s lounge, but with a certain cozy, homey quality.
When he was finally able to regain the power of speech, Angel asked as he and Connor entered the office, shutting the door behind them, “Did you do all this last night?”
Spike began preparing tea on a small hotplate on a side table that ran along the back wall. “Well, I’ve been collecting pieces of furniture like the couch and chairs since we started looking for office space. You’d be amazed what the stuff you find at the junk stores can look like with just a bit of spit and polish.”
Connor ran his hand over the desk with his desktop PC, “I thought you were going to use this for your desk?”
“Yeah, I was,” Spike shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “but I figure you need more space for that hunk of metal you call a computer. My superior MacBook doesn’t take up that much space”
“That’s very economical of you,” Connor smiled, obviously appreciative.
As they were getting settled, an urgent knock came at the door. The three intrepid detectives shared glances with one another as Spike went to open the door. Four young girls, none over the age of fifteen, stood huddled in the hallway, disheveled and bedraggled.
The tallest of the girls held up one of Connor’s bright orange Angel Investigations flyers and said, “Do you know anything about Slayers?”
To be continued....
Previous Chapters: One.
x-posted on nekid_spike.