Title: The Untouchable (1/1)
Author: Horsey Spike
E-mail: HorseySpike@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. Joss and Co. owns them. Blah, blah, and blah.
Distribution: SpikeNAngelFic archive and anyone else I've given permission to. All else, ask.
Spoilers: Season 4 of BtVs and Season 1 of Angel
Summary: Spike finds Angel in a place he never thought, and makes a bet.
____________
Bloody fucking hell! I *cannot* believe the poof is here. Or maybe I can. Maybe I wasn't so wrong in calling him the poof.
I'm in LA for the weekend. Gotta get away from those Scoobies sometime. It's like everytime I turn around, there they are! They are following me. I can tell. Got to make sure ol' Spikey doesn't hurt anybody, although they have found out time and again I can't hurt people. Like I said, is she there to protect innocent beers?
Anyway, back to the story. I'm in LA, and don't want to run into my sire, so I'm sticking to the parts of town I know he'll only venture into to save somebody. And even there it's iffy.
To further insure this, I'm in this gay bar. Don't remember the name, just that someone suggested it. They serve good beers. And those glory holes are the bloody bollocks.
Back to the story. I'm sitting in the bar, just drinking my whiskey as nice as you please, and I happen to look down the bar, and there's the spiky brown hair of my sire. I'd recognize it anywhere. I spend enough time making fun of it.
And he's sitting there, drinking something, and talking real nice with the guys arund him. They laugh, and wander off somewhere else. I didn't bother to check. His view of me was unhindered, and I turned my head, hoping he wouldn't recognize me. Last thing I need is to get into a fight with him. All I wanted was a nice time in LA, maybe get pissed and have a fuck or two. Not fight off demons, vampires, sire, anything.
Well, he doesn't notice me. Or if he does, he doesn't care, 'cause he isn't threatening death with a big pointy, wooden stake shoved through my heart. So, I semi-relax, and sneak a glance to him. He's facing the bar now, taking a sip of his drink. Still neat to the extreme. I remember once leaving muddy shoes on the new hardwood floor, and I couldn't walk for days. And sometimes I couldn't go out to hunt, because he torn up all my clothes for leaving them on the ground. Not that it was all bad, but I couldn't eat. I had to wait until he thought I was punished enough, or I threatened some minion to bring me food, or Dru brough me one of her little animal pets.
Anyway, back to the story. Some guy comes up to him, and they chat awhile, boring, then the guy suggests they go to one of the back rooms. Dear ol' Angel declines, and the guy goes off on his way. Strange. Time was, Angelus wouldn't not take advantage of a tasty bit of mortal flesh, and that bit he just passed up was defiently tasty. Maybe I'll go find him later. I mean, he likes sire, he'll like childe.
The story, right. Soon, Angel finishes his drink, (I haven't even moved in fear he'll see me) and the big guy goes out to the dancing part of the club, dancing, bumbing, grinding mortals all around him. I don't have any troble picking him out.
He's moving with a grace I don't think he's ever had before. Least not that I've seen. Last time he danced, he was too busy drooling over blonde Slayer bits.
I break my gaze away from my sire, who's going around, tantilizing all the mortals he touchs, and turn to the bartender, who has come up my way. I decide to play 'innocent questions about the really hot, tall, dark, spiky haired guy.'
"So," I drawl out until I have the bartender's attention. "Who's the tall guy sitting over there a moment ago?" I motioned with my head where my sire had been sitting.
The bartender's gaze focuses somewhere behind me, where I'm assuming my sire is still dancing. He points to Angel, "Him?"
"Yeah."
"He doesn't have a name." The bartender said, wiping down the bar.
"He's got to have a name. Everybody has a name." I state, setting my drink on the bar, right where he's wiping.
"Not that guy. Comes in here all the time," I raise an eyebrow at this, "and everytime someone asks his name, he says he doesn't have one. I'll tell you one thing though."
"What?" I ask, after he doesn't continue.
"You'll never get anywhere with him. Just like when someone asks his name, when someone propositions to him, he declines. Everytime. Doesn't matter who it is."
I smile. I have a plan. An evil-like plan. "I bet I can get him to come with me."
"Good luck. Everytime someone says that, I challenge them to a bet of twenty bucks. You on?"
"You got it." The bartender extended his hand to mine, and I shook it. My plan is unfolding as we speak. I scribble something on a napkin and push away from the bar, looking for my sire. This is one bet I'm sure I'll win.
______
He's after The Untouchable. That's what the staff calls him. The Untouchable. Just like I told the perioxde blond, he refuses every single time. He's untouchable. Hence, the name.
He started coming a couple months back. Everyone liked him at first glance. I mean, have you seen him? Tall, dark, muscular. What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him.
I'm watching the blond. He's making his way through the crowd, heading right for The Untouchable.
He taps his back, and The Untouchable whips around, like he's expecting an attack. Then he relaxes, and focuses on the blond. The blond says something, I'm too far away to hear, and they move to the edge of the crowd. Guys are bumping into them all around. The blond's as attractive as The Untouchable. I'd love to run my hands over those cheekbones, and down that lean body..
They're talking, and the blond says something that makes The Untouchable laugh. He sobers up real quick, when the blond motions to his head. They talk for a bit, I'm stil not close enough to hear.
Then the blond says something while pointing to the door. This is what I'm waiting for. The rejection. I wonder how The Untouchable's going to get rid of this one. He certainly seems determined. I unconsciously hold my breath, and the other staff that can see him does too. We all look for this moment. They're the highlights for our little lives.
The Untouchable gives out a little laugh, a little smile, and to everyone's great surprize, throws his arm over the blond's shoulder, and guides him out of the bar.
My mouth is hanging open. So is the rest of the staff's that saw this. The Untouchable isn't so untouchable after all. He must have a thing for shorter, bleached blonds. Come to think of it, I've seem him pause everytime one approaches him. Anyway, this is something we're going to be talking about for a long time.
It's when I look down to pick up the drink the blond's not drinking anymore that I notice the napkin laying on the bar, with "I'll be back for the twenty," written on it.
-END-
Author: Horsey Spike
E-mail: HorseySpike@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. Joss and Co. owns them. Blah, blah, and blah.
Distribution: SpikeNAngelFic archive and anyone else I've given permission to. All else, ask.
Spoilers: Season 4 of BtVs and Season 1 of Angel
Summary: Spike finds Angel in a place he never thought, and makes a bet.
____________
Bloody fucking hell! I *cannot* believe the poof is here. Or maybe I can. Maybe I wasn't so wrong in calling him the poof.
I'm in LA for the weekend. Gotta get away from those Scoobies sometime. It's like everytime I turn around, there they are! They are following me. I can tell. Got to make sure ol' Spikey doesn't hurt anybody, although they have found out time and again I can't hurt people. Like I said, is she there to protect innocent beers?
Anyway, back to the story. I'm in LA, and don't want to run into my sire, so I'm sticking to the parts of town I know he'll only venture into to save somebody. And even there it's iffy.
To further insure this, I'm in this gay bar. Don't remember the name, just that someone suggested it. They serve good beers. And those glory holes are the bloody bollocks.
Back to the story. I'm sitting in the bar, just drinking my whiskey as nice as you please, and I happen to look down the bar, and there's the spiky brown hair of my sire. I'd recognize it anywhere. I spend enough time making fun of it.
And he's sitting there, drinking something, and talking real nice with the guys arund him. They laugh, and wander off somewhere else. I didn't bother to check. His view of me was unhindered, and I turned my head, hoping he wouldn't recognize me. Last thing I need is to get into a fight with him. All I wanted was a nice time in LA, maybe get pissed and have a fuck or two. Not fight off demons, vampires, sire, anything.
Well, he doesn't notice me. Or if he does, he doesn't care, 'cause he isn't threatening death with a big pointy, wooden stake shoved through my heart. So, I semi-relax, and sneak a glance to him. He's facing the bar now, taking a sip of his drink. Still neat to the extreme. I remember once leaving muddy shoes on the new hardwood floor, and I couldn't walk for days. And sometimes I couldn't go out to hunt, because he torn up all my clothes for leaving them on the ground. Not that it was all bad, but I couldn't eat. I had to wait until he thought I was punished enough, or I threatened some minion to bring me food, or Dru brough me one of her little animal pets.
Anyway, back to the story. Some guy comes up to him, and they chat awhile, boring, then the guy suggests they go to one of the back rooms. Dear ol' Angel declines, and the guy goes off on his way. Strange. Time was, Angelus wouldn't not take advantage of a tasty bit of mortal flesh, and that bit he just passed up was defiently tasty. Maybe I'll go find him later. I mean, he likes sire, he'll like childe.
The story, right. Soon, Angel finishes his drink, (I haven't even moved in fear he'll see me) and the big guy goes out to the dancing part of the club, dancing, bumbing, grinding mortals all around him. I don't have any troble picking him out.
He's moving with a grace I don't think he's ever had before. Least not that I've seen. Last time he danced, he was too busy drooling over blonde Slayer bits.
I break my gaze away from my sire, who's going around, tantilizing all the mortals he touchs, and turn to the bartender, who has come up my way. I decide to play 'innocent questions about the really hot, tall, dark, spiky haired guy.'
"So," I drawl out until I have the bartender's attention. "Who's the tall guy sitting over there a moment ago?" I motioned with my head where my sire had been sitting.
The bartender's gaze focuses somewhere behind me, where I'm assuming my sire is still dancing. He points to Angel, "Him?"
"Yeah."
"He doesn't have a name." The bartender said, wiping down the bar.
"He's got to have a name. Everybody has a name." I state, setting my drink on the bar, right where he's wiping.
"Not that guy. Comes in here all the time," I raise an eyebrow at this, "and everytime someone asks his name, he says he doesn't have one. I'll tell you one thing though."
"What?" I ask, after he doesn't continue.
"You'll never get anywhere with him. Just like when someone asks his name, when someone propositions to him, he declines. Everytime. Doesn't matter who it is."
I smile. I have a plan. An evil-like plan. "I bet I can get him to come with me."
"Good luck. Everytime someone says that, I challenge them to a bet of twenty bucks. You on?"
"You got it." The bartender extended his hand to mine, and I shook it. My plan is unfolding as we speak. I scribble something on a napkin and push away from the bar, looking for my sire. This is one bet I'm sure I'll win.
______
He's after The Untouchable. That's what the staff calls him. The Untouchable. Just like I told the perioxde blond, he refuses every single time. He's untouchable. Hence, the name.
He started coming a couple months back. Everyone liked him at first glance. I mean, have you seen him? Tall, dark, muscular. What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him.
I'm watching the blond. He's making his way through the crowd, heading right for The Untouchable.
He taps his back, and The Untouchable whips around, like he's expecting an attack. Then he relaxes, and focuses on the blond. The blond says something, I'm too far away to hear, and they move to the edge of the crowd. Guys are bumping into them all around. The blond's as attractive as The Untouchable. I'd love to run my hands over those cheekbones, and down that lean body..
They're talking, and the blond says something that makes The Untouchable laugh. He sobers up real quick, when the blond motions to his head. They talk for a bit, I'm stil not close enough to hear.
Then the blond says something while pointing to the door. This is what I'm waiting for. The rejection. I wonder how The Untouchable's going to get rid of this one. He certainly seems determined. I unconsciously hold my breath, and the other staff that can see him does too. We all look for this moment. They're the highlights for our little lives.
The Untouchable gives out a little laugh, a little smile, and to everyone's great surprize, throws his arm over the blond's shoulder, and guides him out of the bar.
My mouth is hanging open. So is the rest of the staff's that saw this. The Untouchable isn't so untouchable after all. He must have a thing for shorter, bleached blonds. Come to think of it, I've seem him pause everytime one approaches him. Anyway, this is something we're going to be talking about for a long time.
It's when I look down to pick up the drink the blond's not drinking anymore that I notice the napkin laying on the bar, with "I'll be back for the twenty," written on it.
-END-