Fingers tapped impatiently on the dashboard of Spike's van.

Angel awoke screaming. His hand dragged over Spike's, a look of horror sprouted on his face. "Did I really do those things?" And Spike pulled him into a kiss, the horror straining into a surprise. He didn't push Spike away, but he didn't kiss back, either. "Yes, you did." We did, he wanted to say.

Angel kissed him first this time, in a desperate way. In a oh-god-I'm-a-terrible-person way. Spike knew it was working, whatever it was, it was working. That's all the kiss was, manipulative, an angry echo of their past.

It grew hungrier and hungrier until Angel pushed him away. "I-I can't." "Yes, you can." Spike grabbed him again, kissing him until he nearly forgot what he was about to say.

Angel gave in.

Spike's hands wandered but Angel pinned his wrists down against the soft seat of the car.

His thoughts were a muddle of yes. Yesyesyesyesyesyes. With every other yes there was a finally.

He missed this so much.