Title: A Fire That Does Not Burn
Author: BAS1630 (a.k.a Rachel)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: Hmmmm.... I always suck at guessing this... My guess would be
anything from PG-13 to R. I doubt very much that it's NC-17, since
there's no graphic sex depicted (sowwy).
Category: Slash/Romance
Word Count: 5, 897
Completed: Yes
Feedback: Yes, please!!!! grovels This is my first slash fic
however, so please RR but be somewhat gentle. g As I read somewhere
once, flames will be used to toast my stash of smores. :)
Warnings: Um, spoilers for early Season 5 Angel, I guess. Those who
don't like Slash (a.k.a boy-on-boy) should stay away. Some violence
and sexual content, but if that bothers you than I doubt you watch
either show! :D
Summary: It's obviously AU, so if the characters seem a tad OOC...
that's my excuse! :)
By BAS1630
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Angel's hand came down and swatted the alarm with perhaps a little more force than necessary.
He hated mornings, even before his Vampiric existence. Especially Monday mornings. Especially Monday mornings where he had to function as the CEO of the LA Branch of the demon law firm Wolfram and Hart.
But not everything in waking up is a bad development... Angel thought to himself as he stretched out the kinks in his long arms and glanced down at his chest. Sometime during the night, Angel's torso had become a pillow for his lover.
He was having trouble remembering the last time he'd been so comfortable.
"Spike?"
"mmmmfgh."
"Spike, we really have to be getting to the office."
Angel gently let his fingers entwine through Spike's semi-curly platinum locks and played with them.
"Mmmmm.... don't want to....stay here....never miss us..."
Angel grinned and leaned down to kiss the top of Spike's head. Gradually over the past few weeks he found that the two of them were becoming more and more comfortable with the displays of affection that came so easily to other lovers. In private of course... never in public unless their desire overcame them.
Which actually seemed to be happening more as of late.
"As delicious as that proposition sounds, it's not possible." He kissed the curls once more. "So get up."
"Mmmmmmm."
Spike began to stir, and as he became more consciousness Angel felt Spike's arms tightened around him as he placed a kiss on Angel's right pectoral. Angel closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Spike's eyelashes brushing against his naked skin...
...but then he felt a rising sense of alarm as he felt Spike silently slide more downward, placing a series of slow and tantalizing kisses leading from the line of Angel's pecs to his lower abdomen. Spike hovered there a bit, and Angel found himself fighting a losing battle not to get hard as Spike's tongue traced circles around Angel's navel.
They lost more hours at work this way.
"Spike...." Angel cursed himself for sounding short of breath... he knew for a fact how talented Spike could be with his tongue.... "No. We have to get to work."
Spike didn't heed Angel's gentle reprimands, and continued placing a string of kisses on his stomach that made Angel's skin prickle with desire and made his hairs stand on end.
He closed his eyes and sighed with a mixture of longing and exasperation as Spike's firey lips started to retrace their steps.
Well, things don't really get started at the office until noon anyway...
...no.
In an attempt to think with his head rather than his libido, Angel grabbed a firm hold of Spike's biceps. Angel marveled at the electrical current caused just by placing his hands over Spike's slick muscles. Damn, just when I touch him I want him. "Spike." He said with more reserve than he felt.
Spike's lids opened and he lifted his head to meet Angel's gaze. Angel fought to keep his facial expression stern as he gazed into those big baby-blues... without a doubt the most attractive pair of eyes he had seen on a man. Even in their rivalry days of Angelus and William the Bloody he remembered secretly marveling at the unusual color.
Upon seeing Angel's expression Spike eventually sighed and hoisted himself further up on Angel's body.
But just when Angel thought he had won the battle, Spike again lowered his head and applied more pressure to his kisses, tracing a necklace of white-hot fire along Angel's collarbone.
Spike's tongue again did something very interesting with the hollow of his neck that made Angel's knees turn to water, and Angel felt his eyelids flutter and silently admitted defeat as he leaned more fully back into the sheets.
Spike's kisses and licks continued up Angel's neck and to his left earlobe, where Spike nipped and tugged on it playfully with his teeth ... a voice hissed in Angel's ear, "Killjoy," and Spike made to get out of the bed as quickly as if he had never been there.
Angel gaped at his lover's retreating form proceeding to scoot across the mattress. He had known Spike to be cruel, but this was just too much!
"Oh, no you don't!" Angel growled. With all the ease that came with being the older vampire Angel yanked Spike back by the shoulders so that they both fell in a tangle of limbs back into the sheets.
As the two snickered and tightened their holds on each other, Angel marveled that he'd wound up virtually cuddling Spike of all people.
Not that homosexuality was an issue with his race.... vampires as a rule "did it" with practically anything that moved.... But of all the people in Angel's 240 year history, Spike was one of the more complicated relationships to explain to others.
But one of the strangest aspects of their relationship, was just how natural it felt to move from enemies to rivals to colleagues to friends to lovers.... and all within the past year.
He never would have guessed that an underlying theme in their interaction was actually sexual tension, until one night inside his personal apartments at Wolfram and Hart.
--------------------------------------------
He had forgotten what had started the whole thing to begin with- he and Spike were always fighting about something. Whether it was Buffy, cars, the firm, fighting strategies... any discussion usually ended in a row.
But whatever it was, Angel and Spike had been maintaining their almost friendly rivalry until the night Spike ended up in Angel's quarters.... bellowing his lungs out due to some scruple or another he had with Angel.
But for some reason ... whether it was the centuries of arguing and history between them, the close quarters they had kept within the past months, the fact that Angel had spent the entire summer thinking Spike was dead, the many experiences they had already shared at Wolfram and Hart, or just simply the fact that Angel hadn't gotten any in ages...
...Angel forgot himself that night and found himself thinking how gorgeous Spike was, and- without any real thought or hesitation- initiated their first real kiss.
And it was a hell of a kiss.
Upon pulling away Spike had simply stared at him, his eyes huge and his mouth a perfect 'O'. His hair was plastered to his forehead in sweaty clumps, and his face flushed from his previous tirade (or maybe something else Angel later thought)... his lips already visibly swollen from Angel's assault. Angel averted his eyes from the arousing sight and began to back away.
"Spike," He began, but what would have come next: a fumbled apology, a telling off, a flippant remark, or the threat of disemboweling if the occurrence were to ever leave the room, Angel didn't know... for Spike grabbed him roughly by the nape of his neck and sealed his mouth over Angel's.
That had been his answer.
And what had followed had been a frantic and mutual tearing of clothes followed immediately by the most incredible mind-blowing sex Angel had ever had with another man.
Amazing sex that was to be repeated nearly every night for the next two months since the first encounter.
Yup, chalk it all up to sexual tension.
----------------------------------------------
Angel thought about all this as he clung Spike to his front and made him pay for his earlier enticement by flicking his tongue along the line of his throat while his fingers tantalizingly traced lines across the small of Spike's lower back.
Spike faced the ceiling and made a growl of arousal low in his throat, one of Angel's favorite sounds that he knew he could provoke from his lover.
"After all, couples shouldn't leave the bed angry," Angel very nearly whispered between licks.
"It's go to bed, numbnuts."
"Hmmmmm. No." Angel breathed as he traced an outline with his tongue over Spike's Adam's apple. "I'm pretty sure it's leave the bed." Spike attempted to cover a gasp over Angel's latest tongue action as his nails bit further into Angel's shoulder blades.
Angel likewise tried to cover his chuckle at his pleasure over this reaction. "Mmmmm, I love it when I'm right."
Then suddenly the throat and nails were gone, and Angel found himself being held at arm's length. As he blinked his lust-blurred eyesight back into focus he saw Spike frowning at him, a pensive furrow on his brow. "We're a couple?"
"What?" Angel wasn't exactly a gifted conversationalist to begin with, but with Spike straddling him in such a manner all thoughts of coherent conversation went out the window.
"You heard me. Us. This. You think this is a couple? A couple of what, exactly?"
Angel blinked up at him. Why was he doing this?
"What? Well... I don't know. I don't have a lot of experience in being with men, but I figured this is what couples do." He gestured to their naked and intertwined bodies and tried to ignore the fact that his line of vision gave him a flattering view of Spike's rock-hard perfect abs. "Why?"
An awkward silence hung in the air.
Spike studied him for a moment and began to shake his head, an expression on his face that was more a sneer than a smile. "Whatever, mate."
He lifted himself up and off of Angel and threw his legs over the side of Angel's mahogany king-sized bed.
Angel was perplexed. "What?" his voice a mixture of irritation and confusion.
Spike slid out of the bed and got to his feet. "It's nothing."
Angel watched with one arm propped as Spike pulled on his pants and traditional black shirt. He felt his grip on the bed sheets tighten as he watched Spike's lean and lithe body once more become hidden beneath the clothes.
Angel disliked the change of view more than he cared to admit- even to himself.
"Nothing," Spike tossed once more over his shoulder as he looped his belt.
Within a few strides he had crossed the room to the door, opening and slamming it shut upon his exit.
Angel sighed and threw himself spread-eagled back across his bed, which without Spike suddenly felt even more cold and empty.
Something tells me my relationship with Buffy was less complicated than this, he thought to himself.
----------------------
"Morning, everyone." Angel called as he strode into Wolfram and Hart's training and workout room. Usually he met everybody in the main conference room on the top floor, but he had received a page from Gunn after his morning shower to come straight here instead.
Fred tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled her welcome as she continued shuffling files on the room's one table. Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne all turned and gave a brief welcome acknowledgment before returning their attention back to the large steel crate being maneuvered in the center of the room by numerous WH flunkies.
On top of the crate, working with what looked like a handful of ropes was Spike.
Upon hearing Angel's voice Spike's eyes briefly shot daggers in his general direction before once again returning to the tangle.
Angel inwardly allowed himself a sigh. Whatever I did, it looks like I'm going to be paying for it for awhile.
He turned his attention to the others. He didn't use the word love often, but he could say without reservation that he loved these four... he had been through a lot with them in the short time he'd known them all.
He particularly appreciated them in that they knew all about his arrangement with Spike, having found out in various ways, and yet none held judgment.
Fred in particular was almost a little too okay with it. More than once Angel had caught her cupping her face in her hands and lifting her eyebrows with a goofy knowing smile as she watched the two of them work side-by-side.
Today however, as she made her way over to him she seemed all business.
Thank God.
"Hi Angel! Sleep well?"
If he had been anyone other than a vampire, he might have missed her almost imperceptible mouth twitch and a quick as lightening glance at Spike's form.
But he didn't.
Sigh.
"Fred," he decided to cut to the chase and distract her. "Why am I here when I should be meeting with potential clients?"
In answer she handed him one of the files she had been rifling through. "As CEO, you have to sign the acknowledgment form for our gift. And possibly write a thank you card while you're at it."
"Gift?"
She gestured behind her to the crate. "Gift." She parroted.
Angel gave a look of disgust to the ugly grey 15-foot-tall monstrosity.
"That's a gift? Who did we piss off?"
"Which evil phonebook would you like me to start with?"
Angel looked at Wesley walking towards him, followed closely by Lorne and Gunn.
Gunn crossed his arms and gave a fake shiver as he stared at the crate.
"I feel you. Just being near the damn thing's giving me a definite ooky vibe."
Lorne nodded his agreement. "I read you loud and clear, princess. It's like it's radiating cold or something. I'm guessing it's not filled with puppies and kittens either."
"Lorne, I love you man- but if you call me 'princess' again than your demon proctologist is going to be surgically removing your horns from his area of expertise."
Lorne saluted. "Gotchya, sailor."
Angel ignored them all and began to read the top form in his hands. "Who is it from?"
"Our colleagues, actually." Wesley answered. "The Wolfram and Hart branch in Lebanon to be precise."
Fred turned slightly and gave the crate a disdainful up-down glare. "A sort of belated 'Welcome to evil' housewarming present, is my guess."
"Lebanon, huh?" Angel squinted and took a closer look at the etchings he now noticed on the crate. "So that's Arabic, I'm guessing?"
"Yes. But unfortunately I let my Arabic slip a bit over the years. I'm going to spend the rest of the day deciphering the carvings, so we know what we're getting into before we open it. It might be cursed, for all we know."
Wesley took his glasses off and began to wipe them, a nervous habit Angel was beginning to suspect he picked up from Giles.
"Yeah, but here's an idea...."
"Oi!"
"... why open it at all?"
"Oi!"
"Angel, they may have dark side tendencies but we have to at least show that we're not afraid of them, or their 'gifts' as it were."
"Oi!"
"Yeah, but..."
"Heeeeellllllloooooo..."
Angel closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. When that didn't work, he whirled on the voice.
"What, Spike?!"
Spike nonchalantly hung from a rope on top of the crate by one hand and pointed to the table behind the five. "Hand me that knife."
Angel goggled at him, his temper rising.
"You're interrupting us for something you're entirely capable of climbing down and getting yourself?"
Spike lowered his head and glared at Angel through slitted eyes. Even in his anger Angel spared a moment to admire Spike's defined cheekbones, which were one of Angel's favorite Spike features. "You're closest to it."
"We were in the middle of a conversation."
"Don't lecture me on manners, you bloody tea caddy. I was much higher social standing than you even before I died!"
"And yet you died in an alley just like me."
Spike's eyes widened and his mouth formed a type of snarl, but even before Angel had time to reflect on how this snippet of conversation had gotten so heated so fast, the room seemed to shatter before his eyes into a thousand pieces.
----------------------
Angel groaned and tried to ignore the constant throbbing of the back of his head. Why did it hurt so bad? And why did he suddenly smell....
.... sulfur?
He pried open his eyes, and saw his friends attempting to get to their feet as well. He also smelled the more-than-familiar tang of blood hanging in the air, and as he got to his feet a quick glance at the far side of the room confirmed that the crate now hung open and tilted on its side.
The cause of the blood aroma was also confirmed when he looked around at the numerous bodies of his previous employees scattered around like so much human debris.
His friends all seemed to come out of the impact unscathed however, and that left...
...... Spike!
If his heart functioned it would have quickened, and Angel violently twisted around to locate the other vampire.
He found him, up against a wall, a huge smile on his face and apparently taunting what could only be described as a fire demon.
15-feet-tall, with a body like hardened lava formed into a manish-shape and fire spewing forth from what would have been its eyes and mouth.
Angel could almost imagine his pulse racing as he watched Spike crouch and lift a crowbar that had previously been residing on top of the crate, and proceeded to beat the demon with it. Angel saw however that the bar was already softening and beginning to melt, and used his long legs to his advantage to rush to the training room's weapons cabinet and selected a sword.
With sweaty palms Angel bolted over to Spike and the monster, and stabbed it where he assumed the creature's heart would be.
There was a sound like a fire log splitting, and the monster gave a final shriek of agony during its death throes at an octave that prompted Fred to cover her ears.
As it fell to the ground with a resounding thud, Angel watched as it melted into a distasteful puddle of orange molten goo.
Overwhelmed with relief, Angel ran a hand through his dark hair and looked up to smile at Spike....
.... and felt like he had been punched in the gut.
Vampires don't truly breathe,- at least not like humans do- but some of the younger ones unconsciously kept up the appearance of it, as Spike exhibited now with his heaving shoulders.
He glared at Angel with his blue eyes dark with malice, a look so reminiscent of hatred that it made Angel painfully flashback to the days when they loathed each other.
But they didn't hate each other now, right?
"Where do you get off doing that? I had him right where I wanted him!!" Spike seethed.
Angel's concern automatically shifted into one of strong irritation.
"If you had him any better, we'd be mopping you up. Not him."
Spike clutched his left shoulder (Was he hurt?) and shook his head with an unreadable expression on his face. "Wanker."
He pushed himself past Angel and gingerly, and for the second time that day, made his way to the exit. Leaving Angel watching him, and the others watching Angel.
--------------------------------
Between the typical workday, notifying families of the deceased, and clearing up the mess in the training room, it was fairly late into the evening when Wesley called the others into his office.... having deciphered most of the Arabic script.
As he looked around at those gathered, Wesley realized who was missing.
"Where's Angel?"
Spike made a show of counting floor tiles as Fred half-raised her hand in reply.
"Umm, he's in his office still. He said he had some phone calls to make, and that since the thing in question is dead, he doesn't really need to know much more about it." She shrugged and gave him a half-lopsided smile. "He's grumpier than usual... today..." she trailed off as her gaze ticked in Spike's direction and back to Wesley.
Wesley nodded in reply. "Well, we can always bring him up to speed later, I suppose."
He lifted a musty text off his desk and flipped it facing the others, tapping a small etching.
"As near as I can gather the creature was an Afrit- an Arabic fire demon. They have them in spades over in Lebanon, I'm sure. My guess is that our fellow attorneys overseas were practicing the ancient Wolfram and Hart rite of Rekcuseiduoy... a kind of primitive hazing, if you will. Like hazing, the object doesn't seem to be to actually kill Angel, but to cause him immense discomfort. If he does in fact perish, then the firm is all the better for it by being rid of one weak CEO."
Gunn shook his head. "Dang, man. I thought I was through with that scene when I dropped freshman year."
Lorne snorted. "Seriously. Say, Wes Hon, maybe we should send our esteemed foreign colleagues a courtesy thank you... my Aunt Gretchen's fruitcake would do nicely. It has a veritable cornucopia of animal feces from various dimensions."
Gunn made a face as Spike arched an eyebrow and Fred gave a melodramatic shudder.
"Now Lorne, let's be realistic: your Aunt Gretchen is in Pylea, and no way can we dimension hop simply for the purpose of revenge baked goods... no matter how just the cause."
The other four stared at him, undoubtedly trying to determine if Wesley was exhibiting the trademark British sarcastic wit or was actually being serious. Feeling quite self-conscious all of a sudden, Wes cleared his throat.
"Yes...well.....moving on...... It appears that when one branch hazes a new CEO, the hazing in question must somehow be related to the identity of the CEO himself..."
Fred cleared her throat.
"...Or herself." Wes continued, not missing a beat as Fred smiled.
"Wait... how is this afreak thing or whatever connected to Angel?" Gunn asked.
"Afrit," Wesley corrected. "Plural Afriti, and also translated occasionally as Efreet or Efreeti."
"Not caring, so long as I know how to kill them if more of these suckers show up."
"Well, the connection to Angel is the puzzling part- and the one thing that I haven't been able to decipher yet from the etchings on the crate. I would assume it would have something to do with him being a vampire, perhaps, or being a demon with a soul...but.... I assume we won't be hearing from this particular branch again, since Angel 'passed the test' as it were....yet.... we still don't know how or why the creature escaped from its crate shell in the first place... among other things...."
Wesley shuffled his papers and frowned down at them, muttering almost to himself.
Suddenly his eyes widened, and the other four began to lean forward at his change in demeanor.
"Oh dear. I think I missed this passage... yes, it was hidden under this one! Oh, how could I be so stupid...."
He looked up at the others who were hanging on his every word fragment.
"I don't think the creature's actually dead."
Spike stood from his leaning position against Wesley's bookcase. "What do you mean?"
"Yeah man, what are you talking about? Angel went all Keanu Reeves on its ass... we watched it turn into ooze!" Gunn added.
"Yes, but evidently this states that isn't all that's needed to kill it. Angel was quite right in putting a sword through its heart, but the sword in question has to be bathed in holy water."
Fred's eyes widened. "That's why they thought it was perfect for Angel, since he can't go near holy water without going all blistery."
Gunn shook his head. "What a bunch of creeps, man. Whatever happened to making a dude eat a live goldfish, or making him chug chicken fat?"
They all looked at him, and he shrugged. "Or something."
Fred had stopped listening however, and was twisted with her back to them.
"Guys.... Where's Spike?"
They all stopped talking and looked at Spike's previous position near the bookcase, which was now vacant.
Lorne got to his feet and began to pull on his coat. When the others looked at him quizzically, he smiled reassuringly.
"Nothing to worry about kiddos. I think we all know that the situation's now being taken care of.... and I don't think they'd take too kindly to being interrupted."
With that, the others followed suite in gathering their possessions and heading for the exit.
----------------------------
Angel leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Why did Spike always have to make everything so hard for him? He didn't really understand what had come to pass that morning in bed, and the second time he'd only been trying to save his life!
Angel fought the urge to sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was his imagination, but since he had started to get involved with Spike he had been getting more migraines.
The door to his office opened roughly, and this time Angel did exhale a puff of air.
"Fred," he said as he got to his feet and began to turn. "I told you that it's fine if you feel like humoring Wesley by showing up to his post-battle lectures, but I already told yo..."
He stopped dead when he turned fully and realized that he was gazing into the firey eyes of the demon from earlier in the day... too similar in structure and form to be a different one, but fully solid and mobile..
And looking mighty pissed off.
"Okay," Angel relented, "Not Fred."
As the wall of flame began to close in on him, Angel hurriedly searched his surrounding area for some immediate mean of defense.
Finding only a letter opener within reach, he tossed it at the creature... only to have it bounce off its version of a forehead.
"Great." Angel growled.
Then suddenly the tip of a blade protruded through what could have been the creature's stomach and was quickly withdrawn. The demon gave another version of its high-pitched death cry before rounding on the new attacker.
Angel felt an intense sensation of dismay and surprise as the creature in turning allowed him a view of Spike, twirling a sword single-handedly. "Hey Frankenfire, over here!" He jeered.
The creature gave an earth-trembling growl and advanced on Spike. Angel leaped over his desk without thinking and attempted to grab a hold of the creature's shoulders....
....except for the fact that the fire demon was no longer there, and Angel went crashing onto the floor.
Except not the floor, for what he landed on was more familiar and infinitely more comfortable to Angel.
Angel lifted his head and followed the length of Spike's arm to realize that had it not been for the angle of the sword (which Spike had quickly relinquished, and which now yielded bright orange goo), Angel might have impaled himself on it.
He looked into Spike's face and was shocked to see a somewhat cross look that was a combination of intense annoyance and amusement.
"How is it that despite my best efforts... you always manage to be on top?" He dripped.
Angel felt a smile curl his lips. "I don't know. Destiny, I guess."
"Sod destiny- this happens too often for it to not be premeditated. Speaking of which... will you get off me now?"
Angel shook his head. "No. At least this way I know I have your attention."
Ignoring the unreadable expression that shifted across Spike's features, Angel indicated the orange goo. "Will it come back this time?"
"No. Wesley told us how to kill it for good. It won't come back."
As Angel nodded, his heightened sense of smell caught a whiff of something burning. He also noticed that Spike was pressing his sword-wielding arm as close to his body as possible.
Angel gave him a puzzled look, but Spike didn't fight him as Angel pulled up his arm and tenderly unclenched his fist. Choking back a noise of surprise, Angel immediately recognized the familiar web of red welts and angry blisters already rising there.
Only one thing he knew of provoked such a reaction on Vampire skin...
"Holy Water." Angel locked eyes with Spike.
Spike gave him what was probably meant to be a wry smile and shrugged as best as he could with Angel's weight still on him.
"Boy genius said that it was the only way to kill this thing.... douse the damn sword with it. And despite the joy your scorchy demise would bring my newly endowed soul, you are a pretty decent shag. And not too terrible to look at... once one overcomes the initial distress that your Neanderthal brow provokes, that is. So I figured I'd come up here and save your sorry arse."
Angel simply gawked at him. After a moment he thought of something and asked,
"Why didn't you at least wear a glove?"
Angel watched Spike's eyes grow bright with realization, but not one to be called on an error in judgement, he tilted his head up defiantly. "More dramatic this way." He stated.
Angel found himself at a loss for words and with a myriad of emotions washing over him. It wasn't often that he was rendered speechless by such a predicament, and with Spike's eyes twinkling up at him he was suddenly struck by the intensity of this absurd predicament.
He placed his head on Spike's shoulder and suffered a brief but powerful bout of silent laughter, causing both of their bodies to shake with his tremors. Spike evidently had nothing witty to say to this turn of events, and remained silent.
When he had collected himself, Angel brought his face mere inches from Spike's.
"Spike, what's been going on with you today?"
Spike's eyes glazed over, but evidently he needed no elaboration.
"This morning you said we were a 'couple'. I hadn't thought about it like that, and I didn't want to... since all my past shag encounters have ended up....wait a tic, why am I telling you? You know." He shook his head. "And then there was that business of rushing to help yours truly with the demon. I may be alot of things, but damsel in distress ain't one of them. So... that's something you oughta watch out for, mate."
Spike lowered his gaze. "If we keep this up, that is."
It wasn't a statement, nor was it a question. The almost offhand comment just hung in the air, and Angel needed no translation as to its meaning.
Your move.
Angel thought about it. Weighed all the pros and cons in his mind.
We both have souls. Great sex. We have a history. Great sex. My enemies could find out about us. Great sex. We understand each other. Great sex. He makes me laugh when he isn't annoying. Great sex. He's useful in a battle. Great sex. He's messy. Great sex. This could end up really badly. Great sex. He's arrogant. Great sex. He's gorgeous. Great sex. He's seen me at my worst. Great sex. He's seen me at my worst and doesn't care. Great sex. He's constantly thinking of obnoxious nicknames for me. Great sex.
I care about him, maybe even love.
He cares about me, maybe even loves.Weighed all the pros and cons... for about two seconds.
As he pulled Spike's injured hand to his mouth, he knew his decision had been made before he had ever debated it. In an uncharacteristic move (which he found he had been doing more of since becoming involved with his protégé), Angel lightly brushed his lips over the edge of the least harmed part of the palm.
Spike unflinchingly returned his gaze, although it was obvious that he was struggling not to worry his bottom lip.
Angel pulled himself up Spike's body so that they were now nose to nose.
"I have every intention of keeping this going as long as possible. I think you're forgetting that I also have over two hundred years of experience. You'd be surprised my Will, how many things I'm able to keep up."
And with that he placed his mouth firmly over Spike's in a searing and crushing kiss.
Spike lifted his hands and curled his fingers possessively around Angel's strands as their tongues fought for control. Although their two-month record was pretty even in this category Angel won this battle, and thrust it in further and deeper into his lover's mouth. He felt Spike's body involuntarily shiver in response, and also felt Spike's hands lower to unthinkingly clutch at Angel's back, which elicited a small grunt of pain.
Angel pulled back as if struck. "Your hand! Does it hurt?"
Spike smirked up at him, his eyes dilated and dark with desire. Using his injured hand he twisted the front of Angel's shirt in his fingers and pulled Angel back on top of him.
"So make me forget," Spike breathed passionately.
Angel was more than happy to oblige for once as he smiled a big goofy grin inside his head... at the moment his physical mouth was too busy with more pleasant tasks.
------------------
TWO DAYS LATER
Wesley cleaned his glasses, put them on, blinked, took them off and cleaned them again.
But the words on the paper before him remained the same.
Well. I would have never guessed it. But there it is.
His train of thought was broken by a light knock at the open door of his office. As he looked up, Fred greeted him with an engaging smile.
"Hey, Wes. Lorne, Gunn and I are heading out for dinner. Wanna come with?"
"Oh, that would be lovely."
Wesley stood and began organizing the contents of his desk as Fred stepped further into the room.
A moment passed, and Wesley grinned apologetically for the hold up as he continued straightening papers.
"What of Angel and Spike, are they coming?"
Fred gave an ear-to-ear grin as she shook her head.
"Nah. I thought about inviting them, but I didn't wanna risk knocking on their door, if you know what I mean." She gave him a slight wink as her voice lowered into conspirital whispery tones.
Wesley chortled. "Yes indeed."
Fred tapped the pile of papers in the center of the desk. "Whatchya been working on? This looks like our translations from that Afrit crate." She lifted her head in sudden alarm.
"It's not coming back, is it?"
Wesley shook his head in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"No, the demon itself has been dispatched. I simply just now finished the translation of the last etching, which explains why the creature was unleashed in the first place. A sort of spell cast over the crate in the form of a type of limerick. Very popular method of the dark arts in Lebanon."
He handed the top paper to Fred, whose eyes narrowed as she read it without her glasses.
Gradually her eyes widened and her mouth popped open as she turned to regard Wesley.
"Oh."
Wesley smiled. "Indeed."
"Do either of them know about this?"
"Not about the limerick." Wesley shrugged on his coat before he helped Fred with hers. "But as for the contents... I suspect they've figured it out on their own. Or will."
They smiled knowingly at each other- the pleased and self-satisfied smiles of two friends whom possess secret knowledge of others.
"Well, let's hope they figure it out sooner rather than later." Fred asserted as she slid the page to the bottom of Wes's giant stack of papers.
Wesley's mouth twitched as he flicked off the lights.
"Indeed."
------------
True love is made of fire,
As fire burns, so does desire
Whilst champions clash by love's demand,
The Afrit is freed by the heart's command.
Fin