A/N: Oh, behold...the joy of this chapter.
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Chapter Six
Angel's POV
My office is very brown. Old, too. Cheap. That's why I rented it – because it's cheap. I've never really been a big spender. Cordelia describes me as "tight with a buck", and I suppose she's right. I just don't see how spending money is fun, though. The only things I ever purchased were pints of whiskey and nights with whores. I'm not really much of a drinker, anymore…and the sex thing? I'd rather not risk it.
I watched with interest as Cordelia dropped the piles upon piles of shopping bags on my desk.
"Okay," she said, handing me my credit card, which I promptly pocketed. With a sigh, she slumped down in my chair. "That was hell. Going shopping for your little bleached brat? Not an easy task."
"But you love shopping." I mean, honestly, what else would she do?
"I love shopping for me," she informed me. "But sometimes I do love the challenge. Would've helped had I just taken him out tonight and made him try stuff on, but he probably wouldn't have been very cooperative, huh?" I shook my head. "That's what I thought. So I went to all the men's stores I could find, but it's hard to find tasteful clothing for a vampire who I've only seen in black and red and, well, your clothes. Those don't count, though, because you and Spike are totally different build-wise. You're huge and he's little."
"I'm huge?" I couldn't help but sound a bit put-off.
"Oh, shut up. You know you look good." I tried to fight my lips from rising, but she ignored me anyway. "So I went around looking for things that would suit him and things he wouldn't mind wearing and that's when I realized, hey! Since when do I, Cordelia Chase, serve to the needs of others? So I took a few artistic liberties and bought some color."
"Did you keep the receipts?" I asked doubtfully.
She snorted. "Of course I kept the receipts. But I demand he wear all of it."
"You didn't waste money on underwear, did you? He doesn't wear it."
"He doesn't?" She looked quite disgusted. "I bought him a few pairs of boxers. He can sleep in them."
"He sleeps naked."
Her mouth made a little 'o' shape. "I see. Well…I don't know. Maybe I'll give them to Wesley if he ever comes by again."
It was quite disturbing to think about Cordelia giving Wesley underwear, but I managed to retain a blank face. Cordelia, however, had no qualms with voicing her own disgust.
"Ew…Wesley and underwear."
Just what I was thinking.
"What's this 'bout the watcher and 'is Eddie Grundies?"
I smiled as my disheveled, fresh-out-of-bed childe padded into the office all bare feet and messy hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying with all of his might to stifle his yawns.
"Cordelia went shopping for you," I told him. He yawned again, stretched, and raised a suspicious eyebrow at a very smug looking Cordelia.
"Did you now?"
"You bet. And you're going to wear all of it, buster. Don't think I maxed out Angel's credit card for nothing."
Huh?
"What?"
"Nothing, Angel." She dismissed me with her hand…AGAIN. "The fact of the matter is, I bought you awesome clothes and you're going to wear them and you're going to like them." As if realizing for the first time that her tirade really wasn't going to get her anywhere if Spike really, REALLY hated the clothes, she looked around the office with shifty eyes. "…or else."
My boy smirked. "Or else, pet? Or else what?"
"Or else…um…" she looked around frantically, until her eyes finally settled on me and her arm did this spasmodic thing where it jerked up into the air, nudged Spike in the stomach, and swerved in my direction. "Or else Angel will make you."
"Yeah?" he asked, his smirk turning into a grin as he looked to me. "You gonna make me, Sire?" He sidled up to my chair and poked me in the cheek. "You gonna make me?"
After a few moments of his provocation, I finally growled and pulled him onto my lap, reveling in his yelp of surprise. He half-heartedly kicked out and struggled for a few seconds before settling down and asking, "You gonna make me?"
He gave a very un-Spike-like squeal when I scraped my fingers down his side.
"I had no idea he could make that noise," Cordelia mumbled, now more focused on filing her nails that paying attention to us.
"He makes a lot of noises," I told her, then bit my lip when I realized how that sounded.
"More than I needed to know."
My boy sniggered, shifting around so that his head could comfortably rest on my shoulder.
"So, cheerleader, did you buy me anything useful?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
"Useful? I'd say clothes are useful. That way you're not walking around naked as the day you were born."
"Wasn't naked. Had on lotsa clothes…came off later, though." He poked me in the chin. "'Member, Sire?"
I grabbed his wrist and slapped his hand, as I had taken to doing recently. He hated it. It was great.
"Okay, first ew," Cordelia broke in. "Second…" she took out a bottle of black nail polish from one of the bags and threw it at my pouting childe. "I believe that's what you were fishing for?"
"Brilliant." His pout turned into a smile. "Thanks."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't know why I indulge you. Black nail polish? So over."
It was strange seeing the two of them banter back and forth without a hint of malice in their voices. It seemed like just yesterday when Spike had been on the verge of snacking on Cordelia when the donut had failed to satisfy him…and now, here he was. My boy. Sitting on my lap, with his pretty little head on my shoulder, smiling mischievously at my friend. And to think, just weeks ago, he'd been all about the rebars through my torso. Now here he was, calm and compliant, his delicate fingers waggling listlessly against my arm. He was just as sweet as cherry-
"Is that an Urban Outfitters bag?" His voice was deadly cold.
"Well…yes," Cordelia said slowly, then realizing the impending danger of her purchases, snatched the bag off the desk before my boy could touch it. "Okay, hear me out-"
"Am I a trendy 10th-grader? No. I'm a bloody vampire."
"A vampire who needed new clothes!" Cordelia snapped back. "If we have to see you every day, you're having variation. Right, Angel?"
My boy glared at me as I nodded.
"Variation," I agreed, keeping my tone nonchalant. I looked at the bag in Cordelia's hands with interest. Having no idea what this Urban Outfitters store consisted of, I assumed that the contents would be quite amusing if my childe felt such hatred at the mere idea of it.
"What's in the bag, bint?" he snarled and to his disdain, I slapped his hand again.
"Jeans, Spike. Really nice jeans," Cordelia sighed, holding up a pair of jeans, that while, not very Spike-esque, weren't exactly the bane of his existence, either.
He grunted, but nodded his head approvingly.
"They're alright, I s'pose," he grumbled. "They're not black, though so that's not in my favor." He then pointed at the bag again and said, "There's something else, isn't there?"
Cordelia began to fidget. "Well…yes. There is something else."
"What is it?" he demanded.
"It's um…it's a shirt."
"Right. Show it to me."
I tightened my grip on Spike as I had a bad feeling about this one. He had tensed up, ready to pounce at the thought of the complete abhorrence that was about to reverberate throughout his lithe, little body. The trigger? A T-shirt.
A baby blue T-shirt. A baby blue T-shirt with navy text that read "Free Puppies" in happy, bubbly lettering.
Spike snarled and wrung himself out of my hold.
"You're breakfast, bitch!" he declared, vamping out and launching himself at Cordelia, baring his fangs.
My poor boy and his silly vampiric bravado ended up on the floor, crying at the pain in his head. His breakfast sighed, gave me a grim smile, and patted his peroxide hair in a tired display of forgiveness.
Spike's POV
The hot shower alleviated the remnants of pain that decided to remain in my skull. It pounded down on me, the droplets of hot water did. Made my body all toasty warm on the outside. Inside was my cold, dead heart that didn't really care whether Cordelia lived or died. Inside was the borrowed blood that sustained me, kept me walking and talking and seeing and hearing. Kept me pretty. That's where my sire was.
My sire was in my blood.
Speaking of my sire, he was bloody well furious with my behavior. Told me he wasn't gonna beat me this time, though. Cause why beat me when some cruel bastards already did the job for him? Instead, he settled for sitting in the bathroom while I took my shower, lecturing me from the lid of the toilet seat.
"What are you going to say to Cordelia when you get out of the shower?" he asked.
"'M sorry that you're a stupid little cunt who buys me shirts that demand the freedom of puppies?"
"William."
Wasn't a raised voice. Wasn't really a low one either. It was a rumble, like thunder, at the back of his throat. It echoed in the bathroom and rendered me silent for a moment.
"'Sorry that I tried to bite you, Cordelia. I won't do it again.'"
This was really bleedin' pathetic, this was.
"Because…?" Peaches prompted.
"'Cause I get a big soddin', brainsplittin', mindblowin' world of pain when I so much as try."
"And…?"
Bloody Hell, this wasn't going to stop.
"And you've treated me all kind-like so I should return the favor," I grumbled.
"And…?"
And? AND?!
"And my sire says not to. And what Sire says, goes."
That seemed to satisfy the old boy, as he remained silent for a few more minutes. Then, he asked, "So why'd you do it?"
"Do what now?"
"Try to eat Cordelia. You were getting along so well."
"'M a vampire. She's food." I turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing the closest towel and patting myself dry. "I don't have a soul like you, Peaches. 'S a bit harder for me to become fond enough of a person to not wanna kill 'em."
"I thought you and Cordelia were in friendship territory."
"I kill my friends, mate."
Angel doesn't have many facial expressions. He broods, he brightens…on rare occasion, he grins. At the moment he was sporting a sad smile and those poofy brown eyes of his looked so…hurt.
I wrapped the towel around my waist, hoisted myself up onto the sink, and stared at him. "'M not gonna kill her," I told him. "Can't, anyway…y'know?" Still lookin' like a kicked puppy (bloody fucking puppies!), he got up, grabbed a different towel, and started to dry my hair.
Ah, yes. I'd missed this. Him tendin' to me like I was some sort of incapable child or invalid or some such. His strong fingers massaging my scalp so gently that my eyes closed and I felt like I could go to sleep just sittin' there. When he stopped, he dropped the towel into the sink and ran his big thumb over my cheek, lookin' at me like a bleedin' mum would look at her newborn baby. A small part of me wanted to stab his eyes out.
He kissed my forehead.
A small part of me took that previous thought back.
"You're gonna wear the shirt," he told me softly.
No, no…a small part of me took back the latter thought about taking the former thought back and a large part of me joined in on the support rally for that thought.
Bloody Hell.
I opened my mouth, but he put a firm finger to my lips.
"Don't argue with me, m'boy," he crooned. "Or I'll really show you a big, soddin', brainsplittin, mindblowin' world of pain."
Oh God.
He pulled his finger from my lips, bent down so we were eyelevel, and asked, "What do you say?"
Bloody Hell.
Trembling. I was trembling. I couldn't stop shaking.
"William?"
Oh God.
I lowered my gaze.
"What do you say, William?"
He lifted my chin with a finger so I met his eyes once again, traced my cheekbone with that thumb of his, and placed his lips to my temple.
I gave in, wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Yes, Sire."
He lifted me with ease into his arms, not at all struggling with my weight as he carried me back into the bedroom where he watched attentively as I put on the much-hated "Free Puppies" T-shirt and a pair of jeans. That done, he took my hand, led me into the elevator and we went upstairs to meet my thousandth humiliation of the month.
I hadn't expected the Watcher to be sitting upstairs with Cordelia.
He looked at me for a moment, clearly amused. I'd like to rip the skin from his body and see how amused he is then…
"Wesley," my sire said, his voice light in greeting. He motioned for me to go sit on the couch. Like a mindless sod, I obeyed. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
The Watcher fidgeted briefly, gathering his wits about. He glanced back at me, and then looked to the cheerleader, and finally returned to Peaches. "Well, Angel…seems we have a bit of a problem on our hands…"
A/N: ::Leaves you there::
TBC...
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