Sitting Out
Two: Sung
"Oh, hey, Spikey," he waved offhandedly as he wooshed by, and then his phone was back to his ear. "What? No way! You tell Mandy we want to see more of her. Yeah. Get it? Of course, she's my little angel. ... No he's fine. Oh. Sorry."
Spike turned around and began to follow Lorne down the hallway. He was waiting impatiently for him to get off the phone, but he thought it was hidden enough.
"What is it, candycheeks?" Lorne demanded with one hand over the phone. Apparently he wasn't hiding it as well as he thought.
"You know Mandy Moore?" Spike asked with wide eyes.
Lorne shrugged and nodded an affirmative. "Why do you care?"
Spike looked offended. "Give me a little credit, mate! I keep abreast of current events, I'll have you know. I just watched 'E!'."
"Uh huh," the demon said into the phone, and then to Spike, "I guess I forgot all you can really do is watch TV all day."
"And it's a good damn thing I learned how to touch the clicker," he confided, "A man can only take so much hockey."
"Okay, bye." And then the phone was away. "I'm with you a hundred percent, there. Sometimes a guy just needs a healthy shot of Gillmore."
"You know, that show's really underra-" Spike caught himself, "In any case, I was just, ah, curious about..."
Lorne smiled sweetly and leaned his head to one side. "Aww, I had no idea you were such a softie."
"Hey!"
The host backed up, hands open in front of him. "Sorry, rebel, didn't mean to imply a cause. Why don't you come into my office and we'll talk about..."
"Pylea," Spike said somewhat loudly, "And all the bone-eating beasts you can kill over there."
Lorne was evidently having trouble refraining from laughing.
---
"Passions?"
Spike shrugged, his hands in his coat pockets. "There's a little TV in a room in the basement."
"So, we're keeping this on the down low, then," Lorne noted.
"Tell anyone, and God help me, I will find a way to take you to hell with me."
Lorne smiled warmly. "Scout's honor. Now... tell me about Mandy."
"I think she's a great actress," Spike confided, leaning over, "And I'll gut anyone who says otherwise."
"I'm sure she'll be touched when you tell her that."
Spike fell through the chair he was leaning on. "What?"
Lorne shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Truth be told, she's quite the little Velma. When she heard there was a vampire ghost here, she just about peed herself. I'm sure she'll plotz when I tell her you want to meet her."
"And this should help iron things out," he mumbled to himself.
"What's that?" Spike asked, too distracted to be listening very carefully.
Lorne grinned placatingly. Spike saw fit to let it slide, this once.
---
"Did you see the look on his face?"
"I can do better than that, honey."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"My cell phone and I had a little kodak moment," Lorne grinned, "Now you can relive the magic whenever you feel blue."
"You know, I think I will," Spike stated with determination, leaning over to look at the cell phone's screen.
On it was Angel's face, full of confusion and more than a little dissapointment at having someone find Spike more interesting than him.
"But I'm the vampire with a souuul," Spike drawled in his best worst Angel voice, "Love me?"
Lorne snickered and put away the phone. "Fun is fun, my little platinum ingot, but don't you think you're a little hard on Angel sometimes?"
"Well, yeah," Spike said without delay, "'S why I do it, iddn'it?"
"First off, that's not a word," Lorne glared, "Second, aren't you supposed to have a soul, too? Wheaties brand champion of good, et cetera? Or at least shredded wheat..."
Spike scoffed very distinctly. "I didn't get a soul crammed down my throat by some higher power. There's not some grand design for me. I went and got the damn thing, and I'll use it as I see bloody fit. He's got his prophecies and his crack commando squads and what all, hasn't he? All I've got is the inability to touch things. When I get the memo that says, 'Dear Spike, you're a champion, play nice, signed, The Powers That Be,' then maybe I'll start takin' it a little more seriously."
"No need to get jealous," Lorne answered darkly.
Spikes eyes widened considerably as his indignancy did the same. "What do I have to be jealous of? Bad hair?"
"Maybe having hair at all, poutygeist. You're stuck and helpless, and seeing all these things around you can't be easy."
Spike glared as hard as he knew how. "No. I don't want to be him. I just..."
Lorne raised an eyebrow to continue.
"Sometimes I think maybe it would be nice to be a champion, after all."
"Then start acting like one," Lorne soothed.
"But then I look at the crap Mr. Forehead has to put up with, and I figure too many cooks spoil the broth."
Lorne rolled his eyes. "Think what you will, tiger trap, but you know that we need all the champions we can get around here, even if all they can add is heart. It worked for the planeteers, didn't it?"
"I am not gonna buddy up with a bleeding monkey," Spike stated emphatically.
Lorne shook his head, smiling. "You really do love TV, don't you?"
Two: Sung
"Oh, hey, Spikey," he waved offhandedly as he wooshed by, and then his phone was back to his ear. "What? No way! You tell Mandy we want to see more of her. Yeah. Get it? Of course, she's my little angel. ... No he's fine. Oh. Sorry."
Spike turned around and began to follow Lorne down the hallway. He was waiting impatiently for him to get off the phone, but he thought it was hidden enough.
"What is it, candycheeks?" Lorne demanded with one hand over the phone. Apparently he wasn't hiding it as well as he thought.
"You know Mandy Moore?" Spike asked with wide eyes.
Lorne shrugged and nodded an affirmative. "Why do you care?"
Spike looked offended. "Give me a little credit, mate! I keep abreast of current events, I'll have you know. I just watched 'E!'."
"Uh huh," the demon said into the phone, and then to Spike, "I guess I forgot all you can really do is watch TV all day."
"And it's a good damn thing I learned how to touch the clicker," he confided, "A man can only take so much hockey."
"Okay, bye." And then the phone was away. "I'm with you a hundred percent, there. Sometimes a guy just needs a healthy shot of Gillmore."
"You know, that show's really underra-" Spike caught himself, "In any case, I was just, ah, curious about..."
Lorne smiled sweetly and leaned his head to one side. "Aww, I had no idea you were such a softie."
"Hey!"
The host backed up, hands open in front of him. "Sorry, rebel, didn't mean to imply a cause. Why don't you come into my office and we'll talk about..."
"Pylea," Spike said somewhat loudly, "And all the bone-eating beasts you can kill over there."
Lorne was evidently having trouble refraining from laughing.
---
"Passions?"
Spike shrugged, his hands in his coat pockets. "There's a little TV in a room in the basement."
"So, we're keeping this on the down low, then," Lorne noted.
"Tell anyone, and God help me, I will find a way to take you to hell with me."
Lorne smiled warmly. "Scout's honor. Now... tell me about Mandy."
"I think she's a great actress," Spike confided, leaning over, "And I'll gut anyone who says otherwise."
"I'm sure she'll be touched when you tell her that."
Spike fell through the chair he was leaning on. "What?"
Lorne shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Truth be told, she's quite the little Velma. When she heard there was a vampire ghost here, she just about peed herself. I'm sure she'll plotz when I tell her you want to meet her."
"And this should help iron things out," he mumbled to himself.
"What's that?" Spike asked, too distracted to be listening very carefully.
Lorne grinned placatingly. Spike saw fit to let it slide, this once.
---
"Did you see the look on his face?"
"I can do better than that, honey."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"My cell phone and I had a little kodak moment," Lorne grinned, "Now you can relive the magic whenever you feel blue."
"You know, I think I will," Spike stated with determination, leaning over to look at the cell phone's screen.
On it was Angel's face, full of confusion and more than a little dissapointment at having someone find Spike more interesting than him.
"But I'm the vampire with a souuul," Spike drawled in his best worst Angel voice, "Love me?"
Lorne snickered and put away the phone. "Fun is fun, my little platinum ingot, but don't you think you're a little hard on Angel sometimes?"
"Well, yeah," Spike said without delay, "'S why I do it, iddn'it?"
"First off, that's not a word," Lorne glared, "Second, aren't you supposed to have a soul, too? Wheaties brand champion of good, et cetera? Or at least shredded wheat..."
Spike scoffed very distinctly. "I didn't get a soul crammed down my throat by some higher power. There's not some grand design for me. I went and got the damn thing, and I'll use it as I see bloody fit. He's got his prophecies and his crack commando squads and what all, hasn't he? All I've got is the inability to touch things. When I get the memo that says, 'Dear Spike, you're a champion, play nice, signed, The Powers That Be,' then maybe I'll start takin' it a little more seriously."
"No need to get jealous," Lorne answered darkly.
Spikes eyes widened considerably as his indignancy did the same. "What do I have to be jealous of? Bad hair?"
"Maybe having hair at all, poutygeist. You're stuck and helpless, and seeing all these things around you can't be easy."
Spike glared as hard as he knew how. "No. I don't want to be him. I just..."
Lorne raised an eyebrow to continue.
"Sometimes I think maybe it would be nice to be a champion, after all."
"Then start acting like one," Lorne soothed.
"But then I look at the crap Mr. Forehead has to put up with, and I figure too many cooks spoil the broth."
Lorne rolled his eyes. "Think what you will, tiger trap, but you know that we need all the champions we can get around here, even if all they can add is heart. It worked for the planeteers, didn't it?"
"I am not gonna buddy up with a bleeding monkey," Spike stated emphatically.
Lorne shook his head, smiling. "You really do love TV, don't you?"