Author's Note: This was entirely written during the lectures in my chem class during the last two weeks. I typed it up, and did a little tweaking, but I am really stretched for time, so I couldn't do much to spruce it up. But I wanted to get something out there, so...
Part 4
Gunn was the first to react.
"That?" he asked. "Oh! That."
Spike watched from his hiding place crouched in the shadows under Wesley's desk as a darkly skinned hand came down and grasped the lone handkerchief left discarded in Spike's haste to hide himself. "Sorry, it's my Kleenex."
One of Angel's shiny shoes shifted towards the desk. Spike tensed. "But I could have sworn..."
"Saw something out of the corner of your eye?" Gunn asked in a clearly too-bright tone that made Spike grit his teeth, even as he was grateful for the man's willingness to cover for him. "Must have been the handkerchief. You startled me when you came in and I dropped it." Gunn's large shoes and dark grey pants carefully shifted so the lawyer was standing between the desk and Angel.
"Yes, it...appears Gunn may be coming down with something." Wesley added, as he moved so he was standing close to Gunn. "There seems to have been a breakout of colds going around."
"Right." Gunn said, then blew his nose in an exaggerated manner that did not sound at all wet. "Bit under the weather, boss."
Spike could just imagine the confused frown on Broody Forehead's face as he looked back and forth between the two men. If this entire thing hadn't been quite so humiliating -- even without Angel finding out -- Spike might have felt the urge to snicker at the image.
"Okay..." Spike could hear the tinge of confusion in Angel's voice as he spoke. "Wesley, I just got back from the practical science department. Illyria's demanding your presence." The new pair of dress shoes turned and headed back for the door. "And Gunn? Take care of that cold."
"You got it."
Angel's shoes disappeared and the door closed. Spike crept out from under the desk just as Gunn heaved a sigh of relief.
"I gotta tell ya, man, I'm not sure I like keeping this whole thing from Angel."
Spike straightened and looked up at the man, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders. "The last thing I need is Peaches learnin' about this."
Wesley moved away from the desk to stand near the door. "Angel, in his current state, likely doesn't need any more distractions." He tilted his head at Spike. "I'd say that this...is rather potentially distracting."
"Got that right." Gunn agreed, eyebrows drawing together. "Spike, no offense man, but you really need to cover up."
Spike raised one dark eyebrow, pursed his lips, and glared pointedly at Gunn.
"Uh, Gunn," Wesley hesitantly began, "you've got..."
"What?"
Wesley pointed at the wadded up handkerchief in the other man's hand. Gunn looked to where Wesley was directing and gave a nervous laugh. "Oops."
Wesley went over to his desk and drew out a second piece of Kleenex. Spike yanked it towards himself as soon as it was offered, his expression one of annoyance.
Wesley cleared his throat. "I do agree, however, that we should attempt to find you something more suitable to wear."
"I know the number of a good tailor for demons." Gunn said. "Doesn't discriminate on size, color, or number of external reproductive organs."
Wesley and Spike turned and gave Gunn looks.
The lawyer instantly slipped into an "I-wish-I-hadn't-said-that" expression.
"...Don't ask."
Spike lay tensely on his back on the oak table, handkerchief still covering him, as an orange demon with long claws and black stripes on his cheeks took out a miniature tape measure. One eye's cat-like pupil was magnified by the eye-glass he wore on his face, and it blinked owlishly at Spike as he carefully slid the tape measure open. Spike watched the demon's claws warily as the tape measure was placed against his arm, wondering how on earth the bloke could be so precise with his measurements while his nails were about half the length of his fingers and shaped like ice picks.
But the demon never so much as accidentally poked Spike, although he did have to probe a bit to find the junction of hip and leg, because Spike had determinedly refused to take off the Kleenex.
"All right," the demon had said with a sigh of disappointment, "but don't blame me if the pants come out too loose."
When the demon had finished with his measurements, he slid his wheeled chair away to the computer on the desk nearby. Spike sat up, glancing at Gunn who was standing off to the side of the room, one hand loosely holding the back pack he'd used to carry Spike and keep him hidden on the way to the tailor. Wesley was back at Wolfram and Hart, having had to go cater to Blue before she decided to take her frustration out on a hapless employee. And, Spike hoped, was now nestled in his office searching for a cure to his problem.
"When can we expect them?" Gunn asked.
"Give me a few hours." the demon said. "I'll take on this project myself." He clicked his long nails against the desk. "Didn't know Wolfram and Hart took fae folk into its employ. Trying him out as a mascot?" Spike blinked in surprise at the question, and then immediately began to bristle savagely. "He's a cute little thing."
Spike curled his lip derisively. "Watch me be bloody cute as I rip out your --"
"Okay!" Gunn interjected, clapping his hands together with a smile. "Actually we hadn't really planned on making him our mascot."
"Just an office pet then, huh?"
Spike got to his feet with a snarl, and Gunn quickly moved in front of him to block his view of the dimwitted demon, turning to give Spike a meaningful look. Spike held his gaze for a long moment, before eventually giving a loud scoff and backing down, lowering his head to stare at the tabletop as if it was to blame for all of his problems.
"He's much better looking than old Rashelk's group." The demon continued, blissfully unaware of just how much Spike wanted to beat his head in. "Their hair's all wild and they're always dirty. He one of 'em captive bred types?"
Gunn was speaking again, and the nervous twinge in his voice was probably only detectable to Spike. "No, actually, he's just special -- and we really need to get going. You still have my office number?"
"Yeah."
"Great."
Gunn lifted the back pack and set in onto the table next to the seething vampire fairy. Spike sniffed and turned his head away, deliberately ignoring the carrier.
"Spike, come on," Gunn said, then bent forward and whispered. "We really don't want to be makin' a scene. Let's just get you back to Wolfram and Hart so we can work on getting this figured out, okay?"
Still pissed off, fluttering his wings in irritation, Spike turned and glanced at the back pack for a few moments before directing one last lethal glare towards the tailor demon and climbing inside, crouching in an attempt to make himself comfortable as Gunn zipped up the pack, blocking out the light.
"Found anything, yet?" Gunn asked as he walked into Wesley's office.
"Unfortunately not." Wesley said. "Since we're technically doing this under Angel's nose, I have to make time for work to prevent his suspicion." He glanced up. "Where's Spike?"
The back pack in Gunn's hand began to crinkle as something moved inside. Gunn quickly unzipped it and Spike heaved himself out and onto the rug.
"Oh." Wesley said. He furrowed his brow. "He, uh, still seems to have a distinct lack of clothing."
"Only for a couple more hours." Gunn said. "Guy doesn't really just have fairy-sized clothes lying around. I mean, technically," Gunn glanced pointedly at Spike. "Fairies don't wear clothes."
Spike folded his arms tightly across his bare chest. "And I'm sure as hell not going to go around playing flasher to anyone who cares to look."
"Spike?"
Gunn, Wesley and Spike all turned in horror to see that Harmony had peaked inside the office without their noticing.
Spike's mouth fell open in shock. "Oh, bloody buggering fu --"
"Oh, my God!" the vampire secretary squealed, stepping into the room. "Spike, you're a --"
Gunn suddenly leaped behind Harmony and slammed the door shut. Startled, she glanced at him.
He smiled, and gestured at Spike. "He's a fairy."
A/N: I know, that's a horrible place to cut it off -- not even really the end to the "chapter," but I wanted to get something up and this seemed like the best place to end it.
