The Symphony Hall

Pre-Bebop, pre-Julia. Nineteen-year-olds Spike and Vicious are low-time gang members for a group called the Red Dragons, But when an opportunity makes itself clear, their lives are changed. Rated R for cussing and adult situations.

Written for Andrea.

Radishface

~

[ 1 ]

~

Vicious almost tripped as he went up the stairs, feeling fortunate that nobody was around. As far as things went, he had been a bit dizzy the entire day... that's what pot did to you, after all. But it was a nice feeling.

Running a hand through his silver hair, he sighed, and leaned against the wall. His hair was sticky. No surprise, he had been gallivanting out the whole afternoon with different whores. All the money the Old Men had given him was gone that day. He didn't have anything to eat. He'd have to ask Spike for scraps, damned if he did.

His keys jangled as he took them out of his pockets, and he was about to open the door when he heard breathy moans from the other side. He pounded the wall in frustration but gave a wry smile. Spike usually went out at night. He wondered who the pretty thing was this time.

Yeah, well, maybe he'd give the fuzzy-haired bastard some privacy. Vicious sank down and leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette, smoking it casually. He'd wait for the-- oh, there it was. That was quick.

First a girl's voice, light, breathy, virginal, gave a couple moans, then a piercing scream. Vicious shook his head. As usual, he couldn't hear Spike at all. The man was so damned quiet when he was having sex. It was like he wasn't there at all.

And what the hell would make him scream? Well, he did swear last night when a bullet nearly shot his ear off, but he killed the fuckers and then they went out and had ice cream.

Vicious was surprised when Spike opened the door, his frizzy hair poking out in different directions like it always was, making him look like a clown. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his abdomen glistening with sweat. The silver-haired man stood up, and Spike took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuffed it in his own, breathing in deeply. Then he handed it back.

"Shit." Vicious dropped it on the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe, grinding it with his heel. "I don't even want to know where your mouth has been."

The man with the amateur afro gave him a discerning smile. "I didn't care where yours went, fucker, and I smoked it anyway."

Following him in, Vicious wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hadn't been back at Spike's apartment for a few days now, and the stench of unwashed clothes and sex hit him like a barrel of monkeys. Bad analogy. He rolled another cigarette with one hand, lighting it with the other, hoping that he wouldn't notice the smells if he was smoking. Weed always smelled better. "Is she decent?" He gestured in the direction of Spike's bedroom.

"Would you care?" Spike laughed, heading into the kitchen. "You can have a turn with her, if you want." He took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator (he was still such a little boy with his fucking OCD calcium intake), gulping it down. Vicious watched the white liquid run down the sides of his mouth and smirked to himself.

"I'm done for today." He said, pulling up a chair and sitting down on it, taking off his coat and throwing it at Spike's feet. "I was out all afternoon, you didn't notice?"

"Of course I noticed." Spike replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, shoving the carton of milk back into the refrigerator, slamming the door shut. "I tried calling you this afternoon around lunch, but you weren't there." He shrugged, running hands through his hair. "Fuck, I need a shower."

"I do too."

"I only have one towel." Spike shook his head. "You took all the other ones home with you when your dishwasher broke."

"Just let me use it." Vicious said, looking at him with hazed eyes. "I won't care if I get your cum on my hair. You probably jack off into that towel, don't you."

"You'll probably get off on it when you use it." Spike grinned sarcastically. "I only think of you when I jack off, after all."

"So why don't you come do me, then?" Vicious said pleasantly, grabbing a paper cup from the table and throwing it at him. "Homo."

"But anyway." Spike dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "The Big Bad Wolf wants to see us tonight. Maybe we've got another grocery store we need to rob." He wiggled his eyebrows. "And maybe a drugstore, too. I can jack a couple condoms and no one will notice."

Vicious groaned. "The friggin' boss can go screw himself on a pole." He made a show of drumming the table with his fingers. "What does he want now?"

The frizzy-haired man shrugged. "I don't know."

"If we really were robbing a drugstore, you could also steal some deodorant." Vicious smirked. "For yourself, that is. And maybe you could get one of those fruity air fresheners for your fucking stinking apartment. It smells like shit in here." He puffed on his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth and then blowing the smoke in Spike's general direction, watching it disperse.

Spike shook his head. "Go use the shower, asshole." He yawned and stretched, making a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a purr. "I'll just get her to lick me off. She's a horny bitch. First time, too."

Vicious stood up. "You never have to pay, don't you?"

"Virgins are more exciting." Spike scoffed in his direction. "I get to take lead. If you have a whore, she knows exactly what to do, so she's the one controlling you."

Vicious shook his head. "You dominating fuck. Why don't you just step into the world of S&M? You already have leather pants."

"I don't wear 'em." Spike slurred, glancing in the direction of his bedroom. "I gave them away to Trev after he came out. Suited him more."

"Hang around homos and you're going to be one yourself."

"Just take your fucking shower already." Spike said, good-naturedly. "You're the one who's going to smell like a rose, you pussy."

"Whatever." Vicious turned around and started walking to the bathroom. "Are you going to keep her around?"

"What?" Spike asked, as if he hadn't heard. "God, no. You know women. Always needing love, all that shit. That's what's whack about homos, you know. It's always one-night-stands with them. Chicks are too friggin' possessive."

"Then don't do virgins." Vicious called out, as he walked down the hall. "Get the cunts on the street corners."

"I'm not getting an STD, bitch."

Vicious laughed quietly, and opened the door to Spike's bedroom. A pair of big, brown eyes blinked in astonishment, and the girl on Spike's bed suddenly gathered the sheets around her, more shocked than she was nervous.

"W- Who are you?" She stammered. Vicious gave her an amused glance and looked her once over. She wasn't hot, but she wasn't ugly. The big, innocent brown eyes got on his nerves, though. Fucking women. He hated the ones that were clingy.

Giving her a chivalrous smile, he grinned inwardly to himself. "You don't know what you just got yourself into." She blinked incredulously, then indignantly.

Before the girl could say anything though, Vicious turned her back on her and stepped into Spike's bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Of course Spike would dump her, maybe in five minutes, if he guessed correctly. That was one of the things that Vicious liked about him-- his infidelity to women. But being his friend for a couple years now, Vicious couldn't say the same thing for himself.

He peeled off his clothes and wondered what was up with the "Big Bad Wolf." Their boss had already sent them to kill off a couple opposing gang members yesterday night. There was probably a new gang in town and now they needed to defend their territory.

Fuckers, Vicious thought suddenly, as he turned on the shower, stepping in the tub. It's always the same thing over and over again.

But I'm a Red Dragon. I can't help it.

~