Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, damn it, Joss does!
Pairings: Angel/Spike
Setting: Takes place after "Power Play"
Feedback: Yes please!
Warning: Some spoilers for the finale and some language
Eternally Yours
Spike idly sits in the comfy leather chair, and thumbs his hands on his knees. The gang had all left by now, stranding him and Angel in the office alone, each staring at insignificant nothings while their minds are a whirlwind of thoughts. Too random and diverse to be in any particular order. The silence engulfing them has become too eerie, causing Spike to fidget restlessly in the arm chair, even those sounds being muffled in the quietness of the room.
Angel looks up from where he is seated behind his desk and glances at the younger vamp in front of him, obviously uncomfortable. "Why don't you go home and get prepared. Do what you have to do to get ready." Spike looks up at hearing Angel's voice slice through the silence and bid him free of his long reveries. "Go home and do what? Pack a nap sack and all me prized possessions to take along on my trip to hell? I prefer to go down without the extra weight if that's what happens."
Angel's chuckle sounds hollow, for he knows the place is probably awaiting them with balloons and colorful banners hung. Nice to know he at least has a companion in his long trip down. "I wanna tell you that we might not die and that we'll wake the next day as unlively as usual, but that would be just a bunch of crap. Nice crap to believe, but still crap."
"You really do have a thing for being a pessimist dontcha Angel? Try thinking about flowers and whatnot, with the attitude you have no wonder you've mastered the fine arts of brooding." Spike gets up from the chair and starts pacing the room, with a sullen expression on his face. Suddenly, as if a thought occurs to him, he saunters his way panther-like towards Angel and stands in front of the older vamp with his hands across his chest.
"Talking about taking baggage, you think they'll let you take Dog girl with you? Don't think she'll pass through customs. You can tell them that she's a real rare furry luggage, but don't think that will work either." He ends up saying with one of his infamous smirks plastered on his face.
"She's not coming anywhere with me." He pauses. "I bought her and her family a plane ticket out of here. Plus, with the way things went in our last encounter, I'm thinking it's so long to Dog girl." He hears Spike's chuckle reverberate through his chest, as he dons on a genuine smile of his own. "Never did have a liking towards things with too much fur."
Spike casts him a quick glance before he takes a seat on the edge of his desk. "So, this is it. We go down fighting like champions. Would've thought that after dying twice you'll get used to it, but it bloody never gets old. Makes me wonder if 'm gonna go down in flames or get dusted. Either way, it's the place that I'll end up that's making me worry. Just as long as there are no sodding poodles, I'm good."
Angel studies the tension in Spike's back as he muses to himself. "You're probably gonna go down fighting."
Spike twists his neck sharply around and stares at Angel coldly. "You're a bright ray of sun shine aren't you? A wonder your mates haven't committed suicide with the type of encouragement provided by you," he says snorting. Angel wants to laugh at that but doesn't, in fear that he'll unintentionally wound the vamp again.
"I meant that either way you go down, you'll still die a champion, a hero." He makes his way to sit beside Spike, in companionable silence. Stealing a glance at him, as he folds his hands in his lap, trying not to fidget.
Spike takes an unnecessary intake of breath and eyes Angel, with a countenance of peace masking his features. "Guess it's us again isn't it Peaches? We should get our own show, have this real poofy title to it. The main character featuring a tall, dark, and cave-man looking individual with his dashingly handsome and good-looking sidekick. Right show it would be."
Angel chuckles at that, "The title of the show would be 'The Eternal Pain in My side'." Spike scoffs him with fake indignance. "You should be happy that you have me for a pain, I ain't terminal or malignant, but a right joy to be had."
Angel shakes his head, trying to hide the quickly appearing grin making its way on his face. "Right, joy. And to think that I have enough problems of my own."
"You have me to add spice and some tang to those said problems. Make 'em seem almost...minimal. Be that pain in your arse til death do us part type of thing. With a real romantic like arc to it. What do you think?"
Angel doesn't answer for a few seconds, just stares at his entwined fingers, choosing his words with slight apprehension. "I think that either way, we'll still be together." He looks to see Spike gazing at him with some unreadable emotion etched in his eyes. "I think that it would be better for us to stick together, if we make it through. Like Batman and Robin, I mean without the tights. That would kinda be, umm, uncomfortable, to say the least. We can wear leather pants, leather's good."
Spike smells the faint nervousness emanating from Angel and is still honestly too caught up to say anything at the moment from his earlier admissions.
Angel feels the sweep of something and feels the weight of Spike's arm resting gently on his shoulders. He manages to look at him and give him a nervous smile, not knowing what else to do but just sit there and enjoy the contact.
Spike pats him one time before he retrieves his hand back down to rest on his knee. Duplicating Angel's grin in return, and replying, "Leather's good."
Pairings: Angel/Spike
Setting: Takes place after "Power Play"
Feedback: Yes please!
Warning: Some spoilers for the finale and some language
Eternally Yours
Spike idly sits in the comfy leather chair, and thumbs his hands on his knees. The gang had all left by now, stranding him and Angel in the office alone, each staring at insignificant nothings while their minds are a whirlwind of thoughts. Too random and diverse to be in any particular order. The silence engulfing them has become too eerie, causing Spike to fidget restlessly in the arm chair, even those sounds being muffled in the quietness of the room.
Angel looks up from where he is seated behind his desk and glances at the younger vamp in front of him, obviously uncomfortable. "Why don't you go home and get prepared. Do what you have to do to get ready." Spike looks up at hearing Angel's voice slice through the silence and bid him free of his long reveries. "Go home and do what? Pack a nap sack and all me prized possessions to take along on my trip to hell? I prefer to go down without the extra weight if that's what happens."
Angel's chuckle sounds hollow, for he knows the place is probably awaiting them with balloons and colorful banners hung. Nice to know he at least has a companion in his long trip down. "I wanna tell you that we might not die and that we'll wake the next day as unlively as usual, but that would be just a bunch of crap. Nice crap to believe, but still crap."
"You really do have a thing for being a pessimist dontcha Angel? Try thinking about flowers and whatnot, with the attitude you have no wonder you've mastered the fine arts of brooding." Spike gets up from the chair and starts pacing the room, with a sullen expression on his face. Suddenly, as if a thought occurs to him, he saunters his way panther-like towards Angel and stands in front of the older vamp with his hands across his chest.
"Talking about taking baggage, you think they'll let you take Dog girl with you? Don't think she'll pass through customs. You can tell them that she's a real rare furry luggage, but don't think that will work either." He ends up saying with one of his infamous smirks plastered on his face.
"She's not coming anywhere with me." He pauses. "I bought her and her family a plane ticket out of here. Plus, with the way things went in our last encounter, I'm thinking it's so long to Dog girl." He hears Spike's chuckle reverberate through his chest, as he dons on a genuine smile of his own. "Never did have a liking towards things with too much fur."
Spike casts him a quick glance before he takes a seat on the edge of his desk. "So, this is it. We go down fighting like champions. Would've thought that after dying twice you'll get used to it, but it bloody never gets old. Makes me wonder if 'm gonna go down in flames or get dusted. Either way, it's the place that I'll end up that's making me worry. Just as long as there are no sodding poodles, I'm good."
Angel studies the tension in Spike's back as he muses to himself. "You're probably gonna go down fighting."
Spike twists his neck sharply around and stares at Angel coldly. "You're a bright ray of sun shine aren't you? A wonder your mates haven't committed suicide with the type of encouragement provided by you," he says snorting. Angel wants to laugh at that but doesn't, in fear that he'll unintentionally wound the vamp again.
"I meant that either way you go down, you'll still die a champion, a hero." He makes his way to sit beside Spike, in companionable silence. Stealing a glance at him, as he folds his hands in his lap, trying not to fidget.
Spike takes an unnecessary intake of breath and eyes Angel, with a countenance of peace masking his features. "Guess it's us again isn't it Peaches? We should get our own show, have this real poofy title to it. The main character featuring a tall, dark, and cave-man looking individual with his dashingly handsome and good-looking sidekick. Right show it would be."
Angel chuckles at that, "The title of the show would be 'The Eternal Pain in My side'." Spike scoffs him with fake indignance. "You should be happy that you have me for a pain, I ain't terminal or malignant, but a right joy to be had."
Angel shakes his head, trying to hide the quickly appearing grin making its way on his face. "Right, joy. And to think that I have enough problems of my own."
"You have me to add spice and some tang to those said problems. Make 'em seem almost...minimal. Be that pain in your arse til death do us part type of thing. With a real romantic like arc to it. What do you think?"
Angel doesn't answer for a few seconds, just stares at his entwined fingers, choosing his words with slight apprehension. "I think that either way, we'll still be together." He looks to see Spike gazing at him with some unreadable emotion etched in his eyes. "I think that it would be better for us to stick together, if we make it through. Like Batman and Robin, I mean without the tights. That would kinda be, umm, uncomfortable, to say the least. We can wear leather pants, leather's good."
Spike smells the faint nervousness emanating from Angel and is still honestly too caught up to say anything at the moment from his earlier admissions.
Angel feels the sweep of something and feels the weight of Spike's arm resting gently on his shoulders. He manages to look at him and give him a nervous smile, not knowing what else to do but just sit there and enjoy the contact.
Spike pats him one time before he retrieves his hand back down to rest on his knee. Duplicating Angel's grin in return, and replying, "Leather's good."