Something for the Weekend
By Cyberwulf
Rated PG
Disclaimer : Buffy , Angel and related characters all belong to Joss Whedon . A lorry rumbled past my house and they all fell off the back of it , so I'm just minding them until the rightful owner gets here . "As the World Turns" belongs to Eminem .
Summary : Sort of a sequel to "Y' Goin' for a Pint ?" but you don't have to read it to understand this . However , it would explain a few things if you at least glanced at the end of the last chapter . The boys have been at it again , and their nocturnal activities – which they're too trashed to remember – have left them in some very strange predicaments indeed . Inspired by various stories of people being left asleep in amusing places . Oh yes – a bodhrán is a shallow Irish drum you hold with one hand and play with the other , and uileann pipes are Irish bagpipes . Further chapters ? That depends on the feedback I get . Enjoy !
" Ohh . . ."
Angel woke to a pounding headache and a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach . He blinked blearily and gazed around at the darkened room .
" What the –"
He closed his eyes and fought off a wave of nausea . He opened his eyes again and had a better look at his surroundings . He was lying in a really old metal bed , covered with a rug . There was something sticky on his face . He wiped his mouth and stared at the dark substance covering his hand . He smelled it , then tasted it tentatively .
" Chocolate ?"
There was a moan from the other end of the bed . Angel sat up a little . Doyle poked his head out from under the covers .
" Oh , no ," Angel groaned . " Tell me we're not naked in bed together ."
" We're noh'," Doyle answered grumpily . He squinted around at the room . "Mother a' JAYZUS ."
Angel peeked under the rug . Yes , he was fully clothed . Apparently he'd even gone to bed with his boots still on . He turned his head to the side and saw a chocolate bar wrapper on the ground . Another one lay a little distance away . And another . He followed the trail with his eyes until he came to a table . A table covered with empty boxes . Boxes that had once held chocolate bars . Angel's stomach made a weird sound and he stifled a burp .
" Whose feckin' house is this ?" Doyle wondered . " The place is a kip !"
He shifted his weight and something made a weird squealing sound .
" What the –"
The half-demon reached underneath him .
" Holy –"
Doyle held up an instrument Angel hadn't seen in ages . A set of uileann pipes . He stared at them and scratched his head in puzzlement . Angel realised he was lying on something , too . Something hard that was digging into his back . He sat up and looked over his shoulder , and saw another thing he hadn't seen in a long time .
A bodhrán .
He pulled it out and held it up , running his fingers along its skin before clasping the crossed wooden sticks at the back . Both of them stared at each other in total bewilderment .
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce had the sneaking suspicion he was not in his own nice comfy bed . Which was a pity , because he felt extremely ill and could very possibly be dying . He opened his eyes . Yes , unless the décor of his room had had a serious overhaul , he was definitely not at home . He gazed around at the alley . He appeared to be outside a porno theatre . He shivered , and looked down in horror to discover he was only wearing his underwear .
" Got to get some help ," he said to himself . He stood up very slowly , as his head felt so big he was afraid he might topple over . He was almost up when something hard and metallic jerked against his right wrist . Wesley sat down hard .
" What in blazes –"
He looked to his right and realised he was handcuffed to an upside down dustbin . Well , on further inspection , he was handcuffed to a chain on the blue jeans being worn by the pair of legs sticking out of the dustbin . Wesley stared at the dustbin in astonishment . Police "Do Not Cross" tape protruded from the dustbin , clearly wound around the occupant . The tape extended and was wound around a small road works barrier , complete with flashing light . The person inside the dustbin was singing somewhat miserably to himself .
" I don't know , why this world keeps turning , round and round , I wish it would stop and let me off right now . . ."
Wesley wracked his alcohol-soaked brain . The voice sounded familiar . . . so did the song . . .
" Spike ?" he hissed . " Spike , is that you ?"
" I'm Shady ," the person giggled . Wesley rubbed his eyes in irritation . Perfect . The vampire was still drunk . He leaned his head against the wall . How the hell was he going to get out of this one ?
Ethan Rayne yawned sleepily . He stretched out his forelegs , extending his claws as he did so . He didn't know what he was sleeping on , but it felt nice . There was a warm back against his own , and the sun felt good on his bare body . Strange – he'd drunk so much the previous night , and yet he didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects . Must be his metabolism .
He heard a growl from his companion , then felt Ripper shift slightly against him . An angry tail flicked across Ethan's side .
" Ethan ?"
" Hmm ?" the warlock murmured , eyes still closed , not wanting to get up just yet .
" Why are we in the tiger enclosure at Sunnydale Zoo ?"
Ethan opened his eyes . He turned his head and gazed into the understandably annoyed face of the Siberian tiger next to him . He looked down at the orange and black fur covering his own body , and said simply , " Bugger ."
By Cyberwulf
Rated PG
Disclaimer : Buffy , Angel and related characters all belong to Joss Whedon . A lorry rumbled past my house and they all fell off the back of it , so I'm just minding them until the rightful owner gets here . "As the World Turns" belongs to Eminem .
Summary : Sort of a sequel to "Y' Goin' for a Pint ?" but you don't have to read it to understand this . However , it would explain a few things if you at least glanced at the end of the last chapter . The boys have been at it again , and their nocturnal activities – which they're too trashed to remember – have left them in some very strange predicaments indeed . Inspired by various stories of people being left asleep in amusing places . Oh yes – a bodhrán is a shallow Irish drum you hold with one hand and play with the other , and uileann pipes are Irish bagpipes . Further chapters ? That depends on the feedback I get . Enjoy !
" Ohh . . ."
Angel woke to a pounding headache and a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach . He blinked blearily and gazed around at the darkened room .
" What the –"
He closed his eyes and fought off a wave of nausea . He opened his eyes again and had a better look at his surroundings . He was lying in a really old metal bed , covered with a rug . There was something sticky on his face . He wiped his mouth and stared at the dark substance covering his hand . He smelled it , then tasted it tentatively .
" Chocolate ?"
There was a moan from the other end of the bed . Angel sat up a little . Doyle poked his head out from under the covers .
" Oh , no ," Angel groaned . " Tell me we're not naked in bed together ."
" We're noh'," Doyle answered grumpily . He squinted around at the room . "Mother a' JAYZUS ."
Angel peeked under the rug . Yes , he was fully clothed . Apparently he'd even gone to bed with his boots still on . He turned his head to the side and saw a chocolate bar wrapper on the ground . Another one lay a little distance away . And another . He followed the trail with his eyes until he came to a table . A table covered with empty boxes . Boxes that had once held chocolate bars . Angel's stomach made a weird sound and he stifled a burp .
" Whose feckin' house is this ?" Doyle wondered . " The place is a kip !"
He shifted his weight and something made a weird squealing sound .
" What the –"
The half-demon reached underneath him .
" Holy –"
Doyle held up an instrument Angel hadn't seen in ages . A set of uileann pipes . He stared at them and scratched his head in puzzlement . Angel realised he was lying on something , too . Something hard that was digging into his back . He sat up and looked over his shoulder , and saw another thing he hadn't seen in a long time .
A bodhrán .
He pulled it out and held it up , running his fingers along its skin before clasping the crossed wooden sticks at the back . Both of them stared at each other in total bewilderment .
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce had the sneaking suspicion he was not in his own nice comfy bed . Which was a pity , because he felt extremely ill and could very possibly be dying . He opened his eyes . Yes , unless the décor of his room had had a serious overhaul , he was definitely not at home . He gazed around at the alley . He appeared to be outside a porno theatre . He shivered , and looked down in horror to discover he was only wearing his underwear .
" Got to get some help ," he said to himself . He stood up very slowly , as his head felt so big he was afraid he might topple over . He was almost up when something hard and metallic jerked against his right wrist . Wesley sat down hard .
" What in blazes –"
He looked to his right and realised he was handcuffed to an upside down dustbin . Well , on further inspection , he was handcuffed to a chain on the blue jeans being worn by the pair of legs sticking out of the dustbin . Wesley stared at the dustbin in astonishment . Police "Do Not Cross" tape protruded from the dustbin , clearly wound around the occupant . The tape extended and was wound around a small road works barrier , complete with flashing light . The person inside the dustbin was singing somewhat miserably to himself .
" I don't know , why this world keeps turning , round and round , I wish it would stop and let me off right now . . ."
Wesley wracked his alcohol-soaked brain . The voice sounded familiar . . . so did the song . . .
" Spike ?" he hissed . " Spike , is that you ?"
" I'm Shady ," the person giggled . Wesley rubbed his eyes in irritation . Perfect . The vampire was still drunk . He leaned his head against the wall . How the hell was he going to get out of this one ?
Ethan Rayne yawned sleepily . He stretched out his forelegs , extending his claws as he did so . He didn't know what he was sleeping on , but it felt nice . There was a warm back against his own , and the sun felt good on his bare body . Strange – he'd drunk so much the previous night , and yet he didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects . Must be his metabolism .
He heard a growl from his companion , then felt Ripper shift slightly against him . An angry tail flicked across Ethan's side .
" Ethan ?"
" Hmm ?" the warlock murmured , eyes still closed , not wanting to get up just yet .
" Why are we in the tiger enclosure at Sunnydale Zoo ?"
Ethan opened his eyes . He turned his head and gazed into the understandably annoyed face of the Siberian tiger next to him . He looked down at the orange and black fur covering his own body , and said simply , " Bugger ."