Sitting Out
Three: Some
"I think I'm trying too hard."
"I guess. Don't really know this territory."
Spike wound up for another punch. "Then keep holding the bag. I think I got it this time."
And with that, Spike shot a right straight at the punching bag Gunn was holding, and was somewhat surprised when his fist slid through the bag, but not through Gunn's face.
"Ow!" "Sorry."
"Man," Gunn complained, coming out from behind the bag with his hand on his face, "I don't know how you managed that, but try to not do it again."
"At least I hit something," Spike said to the side.
"Yeah. You pack a lotta punch for a dead people. Too bad you didn't get all solidified a while ago," Gunn smiled, "I could use a little violence every now and then."
Spike socked his head to indicate Gunn should resume his position at the punching bag. "Can't you practice with the fops?"
"Fops?" Gunn grunted as Spike's hand materialized enough to go halfway through the bag.
As he extricated his arm, Spike answered, "Yeah, Wesley and Angel."
Spike could tell from Gunn's voice he was smiling at that. "Yeah, well, Wes ain't really much for sparring lately, or ever at all, and boss-man's too busy sulking up in his office to do much of anything else."
"Brooding," Spike corrected.
"Yeah, brooding. But tell you the truth, I've been a little busy, too."
Spike leaned around the red punching bag to smirk. "Whoa... I know lawyer..." he said with a vapid look on his face.
"You're a dick, you know that?" Gunn deadpanned.
"Not my fault you took the red pill," Spike grinned.
Gunn sort of sneered and looked away. "Fine. You're just lucky I'm above name calling."
"Are not," Spike laughed, "Now hold that thing right, I think I got it this time."
"Man, just for that, I'm gonna keep that great Billy Idol joke to myself."
After another failed punch, Spike shot, "Sorry, heard 'em all. Half from Billy himself."
"You serious?" Gunn asked, then amended, "Probably not. Fine, maybe I'll make Billy Kane jokes."
"Billy who?"
"God! Does nobody play video games around here?" Gunn asked, exasperated.
Spike shrugged. "Not much for pop culture."
This time Gunn stepped around the bag. "Yeah, right. Like I don't hear you and Fred watching Homestar cartoons in her office."
"Hey, that's different."
"How."
"That's underground culture."
Gunn sighed and rolled his eyes. "See, that's what you do. That's why everybody keeps their distance. You always gotta push back, don't you."
"You're one to talk," Spike said, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
"Hold up," Gunn stated, hands forward, "I know I've got my manly pride thing going, but you gotta know when to give up the act, man. I think maybe we could help each other out, if you were'nt sitting in your basement half the time."
"What do you do in there, anyway?" Gunn asked after a moment.
"Practice throwing knives," Spike said a little too quickly.
"Right. Well, next time you get bored of your knives, and I'm not on a case, I'll show you how to relax a little."
Spike gave him an incredulous look. "I'm pretty much look but don't touch, I hope you know."
"Naw," Gunn sighed, "I mean hangin' out. Taking a break for some GTA or something."
"GTA?"
"Grand Theft Auto?" Gunn asked with his eyes, "It's a game? You steal cars? Commit crimes?"
Spike looked away, contemplating.
"It won't hurt your manly image, I promise," Gunn smiled, "And Angel hates it."
Spike smiled broadly. That would do just fine. "Maybe. Now hold the damn bag already."
As Gunn resumed his position, Spike gave the punching bag a wicked grin and hit it hard enough to elicit a grunt from the man behind it.
Three: Some
"I think I'm trying too hard."
"I guess. Don't really know this territory."
Spike wound up for another punch. "Then keep holding the bag. I think I got it this time."
And with that, Spike shot a right straight at the punching bag Gunn was holding, and was somewhat surprised when his fist slid through the bag, but not through Gunn's face.
"Ow!" "Sorry."
"Man," Gunn complained, coming out from behind the bag with his hand on his face, "I don't know how you managed that, but try to not do it again."
"At least I hit something," Spike said to the side.
"Yeah. You pack a lotta punch for a dead people. Too bad you didn't get all solidified a while ago," Gunn smiled, "I could use a little violence every now and then."
Spike socked his head to indicate Gunn should resume his position at the punching bag. "Can't you practice with the fops?"
"Fops?" Gunn grunted as Spike's hand materialized enough to go halfway through the bag.
As he extricated his arm, Spike answered, "Yeah, Wesley and Angel."
Spike could tell from Gunn's voice he was smiling at that. "Yeah, well, Wes ain't really much for sparring lately, or ever at all, and boss-man's too busy sulking up in his office to do much of anything else."
"Brooding," Spike corrected.
"Yeah, brooding. But tell you the truth, I've been a little busy, too."
Spike leaned around the red punching bag to smirk. "Whoa... I know lawyer..." he said with a vapid look on his face.
"You're a dick, you know that?" Gunn deadpanned.
"Not my fault you took the red pill," Spike grinned.
Gunn sort of sneered and looked away. "Fine. You're just lucky I'm above name calling."
"Are not," Spike laughed, "Now hold that thing right, I think I got it this time."
"Man, just for that, I'm gonna keep that great Billy Idol joke to myself."
After another failed punch, Spike shot, "Sorry, heard 'em all. Half from Billy himself."
"You serious?" Gunn asked, then amended, "Probably not. Fine, maybe I'll make Billy Kane jokes."
"Billy who?"
"God! Does nobody play video games around here?" Gunn asked, exasperated.
Spike shrugged. "Not much for pop culture."
This time Gunn stepped around the bag. "Yeah, right. Like I don't hear you and Fred watching Homestar cartoons in her office."
"Hey, that's different."
"How."
"That's underground culture."
Gunn sighed and rolled his eyes. "See, that's what you do. That's why everybody keeps their distance. You always gotta push back, don't you."
"You're one to talk," Spike said, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
"Hold up," Gunn stated, hands forward, "I know I've got my manly pride thing going, but you gotta know when to give up the act, man. I think maybe we could help each other out, if you were'nt sitting in your basement half the time."
"What do you do in there, anyway?" Gunn asked after a moment.
"Practice throwing knives," Spike said a little too quickly.
"Right. Well, next time you get bored of your knives, and I'm not on a case, I'll show you how to relax a little."
Spike gave him an incredulous look. "I'm pretty much look but don't touch, I hope you know."
"Naw," Gunn sighed, "I mean hangin' out. Taking a break for some GTA or something."
"GTA?"
"Grand Theft Auto?" Gunn asked with his eyes, "It's a game? You steal cars? Commit crimes?"
Spike looked away, contemplating.
"It won't hurt your manly image, I promise," Gunn smiled, "And Angel hates it."
Spike smiled broadly. That would do just fine. "Maybe. Now hold the damn bag already."
As Gunn resumed his position, Spike gave the punching bag a wicked grin and hit it hard enough to elicit a grunt from the man behind it.