Disclaimer: I do not own the series Angel nor any of its characters featured in this fan fiction.

This is set somewhere mid season 5, after "You're Welcome" but before "Shells". There is a bit of cursing in here, so just be warned of that I suppose.

And Longer

It was a bright golden morning that Spike looked out upon, safe behind treated glass, several stories above many of the skyscrapers that dotted the LA skyline. Evil had been afoot since early this morning; 6am to be precise, though he was only one of the few to still recognise the workings of the law firm as such. Evil was Evil, it could rarely be changed, despite the efforts of a new management. But then, he supposed, these people had to work too, though did they really have to be so blasé about it? Was no one impressed by the struggles of Good and Evil these days?

Turning away from the seductive lure of the sun, Spike scoffed at his thoughts and fell upon the long leather couch Angel kept by the floor length window of his office. It was so much easier to deal with these sort of moral dilemmas back when he didn't have to care. Sometimes the obligations of having a soul really wore him down.

Spike was still of the opinion that gaining a soul was the main cause of terminal broodiness. He was even more convinced of it now that he'd had a taste of what it was like himself. Not that he'd admit that aloud to anyone – least of all Angel – he had a very specific image to maintain. Still, it wasn't like he didn't get exactly what he wanted – broodiness notwithstanding.

Sighing, the Slayer of Slayers, former member of the Order of Aureleus and second ensouled vampire to ever walk the earth settled into the deep leather couch to contemplate life, the universe and everything.

Oddly enough, the CEO of the LA branch of Wolfram Hart wasn't mirroring his younger counterpart's actions. For once, Angel was actually taking some time to enjoy the peaceful morning without brooding. He was walking through the main floor of the firm with a vaguely contented expression on his face.

"Morning boss," his enthusiastic secretary called out to him. "Here's your morning blood, warmed just how you like it."

Angel flashed her a quick smile. "Thank you, Harmony."

Such simple words to elicit such a bright smile on the bubbly blonde's face. "I'm here to please. Now," she sifted through various notes and folders before her. "You don't have any major appointments today, but Gunn wanted you to look over that territorial lease renewal before Friday and Wesley wanted a word later, he said it wasn't urgent and I think he's in the middle of something at the moment, so call him after lunch maybe?" She held out a file.

"Sure, arrange a call once you're sure he's free." Taking the file, he moved towards the wide doors leading to his office, stopping just before he opened them. "Oh," he turned around to call out to Harmony, "if Fred calls with her latest results patch her through to me straight away."

"Will do, boss." The young vampire nodded as he strode into his office.

Angel was honestly surprised that he didn't notice Spike lying on his couch when he first entered. But then, he supposed his lack of observance was due to the fact that Spike's typical dark clothing blended into the leather rather well. That and he had his arm draped across what was visible of his face. He looked upset. Angel studied him for a moment before shrugging and moving over to his desk.

The bleach-blond didn't even look up as Angel made his way through the office, nor when the older vampire slammed his file onto the wooden desktop loud enough for Harmony to peer through the window curiously. All right, so it was a little distracting having him there.

"Spike," Angel began, exasperation flavouring his voice.

"Angel," Spike replied.

Angel stopped momentarily. Spike sounded exhausted. Ignoring it for now, he continued, "I'm in a rather good mood this morning, I was hoping you wouldn't spoil it."

"I'm easy enough to ignore, carry on with your gaiety."

Angel sighed. "I'm probably going to regret saying this later, but you're probably the hardest person to ignore I've ever had the displeasure of encountering."

"I'm flattered."

"Spike, would you at least look at me when you're bantering sarcastically."

Moving his arm, Spike tilted his head back over the armrest of the couch and glared at Angel. "Whatever you say, daddy."

Realising that he was pushing the extent of his attachment with Spike, Angel sat down and sighed. "What's wrong, Spike?"

Whatever it was he expected to come out of Angel's mouth, concern certainly wasn't close to the top of the list. Blinking, Spike concluded that the question must have been sprung from that same weary dutiful worry that Angel used for all his acquaintances and workers. He certainly wasn't close enough to Angel to have earned genuine concern. "Nothing," he said finally, moving his head back down.

"You're quiet and civilised, that's hardly 'nothing'."

"Prick."

"Try it again with more feeling this time."

"You're hardly worth the effort."

"Then why try so hard every other time to get a rise out of me?"

"Fucked if I know."

"Seriously Spike, I'm almost starting to care."

"How touching."

"Spike." A growl; that good mood certainly had flown out the window.

"I'm wallowing in ennui, how's that?"

"Well you can … wait a second; that actually exists?" Hearing the curiosity in Angel's voice rather than anger, Spike looked over the armrest again. "I thought that was just an excuse writers used when they were too lazy and depressed to actually finish their works."

"You're not wrong, but in my case I was being sarcastic."

Angel stared at him in surprise and just as Spike was getting frustrated with the lack of response, he said, "That's pathetic!"

"What?"

"I've heard better from Fred after a 48-hour day, three drinks and a blow to the head from a K'thar'l demon, and I'm still debating as to whether or not she even knows the meaning of the word 'sarcasm'."

Spike huffed and turned back around. "So I'm having a bad day, it's sure to happen to every vampire after a hundred years or so."

"You just don't want to admit you're brooding."

Spike sat up and glared at the smug look on Angel's face. "I am not brooding!"

"Oh yeah? Ennui's just a fancy French way of saying 'brooding'."

"It's not, it's a deeply layered metaphor for … for … ah who the fuck am I kidding, it means: "I'm bored out of my skull and thinking about life and how I'm going to die is just making me depressed."" Spike fell back down on the couch. "You tell anyone and I'll castrate you. Not that you have any use for –"

"Hey! Not true."

Spike leaned up. "Oh?" he smirked. "Care to tell tales, or should I just start spreading unsavoury rumours anyway?"

Angel just glared. "Seriously Spike, what has you so lethargic?"

"Even if I knew, what makes you think I'd tell you?" He shifted so that he was now sitting low on the couch; legs sprawled before him, tucked under the coffee table.

"I'm one of the few people who would even remotely care?"

Spike snorted. "Gotta love your humanitarianism."

"Well it was worth asking anyway. Don't know why I still bother with you." Angel shook his head and opened the file Harmony gave him, pen ready for notes and corrections.

It was some time before either of them spoke again.

"You're a nosy do-gooder, peaches. Can't stand the thought that there's still evil out there that you can't vanquish and problems you'll never be able to fix. That's why you bother."

Angel looked up, pen poised just above the file he was working on. Spike still wasn't looking directly at him, hadn't done so since he walked in, save for the occasional glare in his direction. He leaned back, a finger curling above his lip as he watched Spike. "And you?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not you." Blue eyes flicked over to meet his for an instant.

Angel pulled open a drawer and pulled out something which he threw over towards Spike, another, smaller object following it and hitting the side of Spike's head, the first settling onto his lap.

"What the hell was that for?" Spike picked up the pen from the floor before glaring at Angel.

"Assuage your ennui." He gestured and Spike looked down at the pad of yellow paper. He turned to the drawer again and pulled out a larger pad and pencil for himself as well before getting to work, the file pushed to the side and forgotten for now.

Spike snorted and small half-smile crossed his features for the briefest moment. Knowing that Angel would respond to nothing else he said or did now that he was so emersed in his work, Spike simply brought a knee up onto the couch and leaned the pad against it and started to write.

Still, he couldn't just leave things like that. Whether Angel would respond or not didn't matter, he could still hear and Spike wanted him to know exactly what this meant to him.

"Pretentious ass-wipe."