sorry about your guitar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cityphonelines) wrote2007-05-30 12:16 pm
cityphonelines) wrote2007-05-30 12:16 pm
Fic - Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?
Title: Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for language
Timeline: AtS Season 5, Post ‘Destiny’
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
violethamster, originally posted Oct. 2004 in Sickchicks
Thinking back the Viper just hadn’t been right for him. Well, taking it had, but driving it, keeping it? Not his style really and no matter how high he’d cranked up the CD player, it still didn’t feel right. It was too fast, too smooth, too posh. It felt like Angel. He remembered the image of his grandsire’s marred face; bruises and flesh splits that he’d created in that beauty. So what if he had worn his own set of battle marks? That fight had been his. With that in his mind he strode past Harmony and through Angel’s double doors.
“Angel, you need to find my Desoto and when you do it needs to be fixed up, complete engine rebuild and full classic paint job. New brakes, while you’re at it. And a full tank of petrol. The premium stuff, don’t skimp.”
Angel looked up from his stack of memos, looked Spike up and down, shuffled the notes sightlessly and cast his head back down.
“Angel, you sod, did you hear me? I won that fight and that prize, while crisp and refreshing, was not what I wanted.”
Without looking up Angel answered him, “Get out, Spike. Turn around and sashay out the way you sashayed in. And don’t stop with my office, hell don’t stop with the building keep going as far as you can. I told you Buffy’s in Europe, I’ll give you her address and you can go annoy her. I’ll even give you a jet, just go. I’m done.”
“You’re done, are you? Castin’ out the last family you’ve got?”
Angel flinched –Connor- slightly, but never lifted his head, “Dru’s somewhere, the last postcard I got was from Brindisi, Italy; but that was weeks ago, I should be getting another any day now,” Angel stared at the stack of messages, none of which he planned on returning.
“Drusilla? You got a postcard from Drusilla? Wait, you’re sending me to Buffy? Alright, what’s the catch, there’s always a catch.”
“No catch, it’s worth getting you gone. As for Dru, well, she’s different since the Darla thing and we have a common ground of sorts and, and I don’t have to explain myself to you! I’m giving you an out, I’m handing you the girl, I’m giving you a plane, I’ll even give you money. Lots of money.” Angel felt tired and lost, he needed Spike to be far away or closer than he was. And he was sure the latter was never going to happen.
“Don’t want it, none of it.”
“Then what the fuck do you want, your precious black fire trap? That car’s hardly worth shit, but you know what, I’ll get someone on it. As long as you go once it’s ready.”
Spike gave Angel a look of mock contemplation, “No… no, I don’t think so. Car’s not all I want.” He took several slow deliberate steps until he’d reached the large mahogany desk. He braced his arms and leaned across it into Angel’s personal space. “Seems to me, the more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that what I want is right here.”
“Harmony?”
“Wrong again, love, but you knew that. I’m thinking someone a little more caveman looking, but pretty. You are pretty, you know.” Spike weaved around the desk and eased himself between the open end and Angel’s chair. He placed a hand on each side of the high back executive chair and pushed to until it struck the wall. Leaning in he whispered softly in the elder vampire’s ear, “but I still want my Desoto just like I ordered and when it comes in you come find me,” Angel opened his mouth to speak and Spike lunged forward and licked Angel’s lower lip with a ghost of a swipe, “shh… don’t worry, pet, I’ll be around. You come find me and then I’ll take you out for a drive. Somewhere where the trees grow far too tall and the morning sun loses its fight to shine through the leaves. It’ll be gorgeous. Then you can bend me over the hood and shag me. Not like we used to, oh, no, you’re gonna fuck me nice and slow, gonna take your time, you are. We can do it there in the middle of a forest road and no one’ll be there to watch us, to bother us to fight for a world that’s not ours.”
Spike pulled back, gave Angel one last look and walked out the double doors.
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: R for language
Timeline: AtS Season 5, Post ‘Destiny’
Written for
violethamster, originally posted Oct. 2004 in SickchicksThinking back the Viper just hadn’t been right for him. Well, taking it had, but driving it, keeping it? Not his style really and no matter how high he’d cranked up the CD player, it still didn’t feel right. It was too fast, too smooth, too posh. It felt like Angel. He remembered the image of his grandsire’s marred face; bruises and flesh splits that he’d created in that beauty. So what if he had worn his own set of battle marks? That fight had been his. With that in his mind he strode past Harmony and through Angel’s double doors.
“Angel, you need to find my Desoto and when you do it needs to be fixed up, complete engine rebuild and full classic paint job. New brakes, while you’re at it. And a full tank of petrol. The premium stuff, don’t skimp.”
Angel looked up from his stack of memos, looked Spike up and down, shuffled the notes sightlessly and cast his head back down.
“Angel, you sod, did you hear me? I won that fight and that prize, while crisp and refreshing, was not what I wanted.”
Without looking up Angel answered him, “Get out, Spike. Turn around and sashay out the way you sashayed in. And don’t stop with my office, hell don’t stop with the building keep going as far as you can. I told you Buffy’s in Europe, I’ll give you her address and you can go annoy her. I’ll even give you a jet, just go. I’m done.”
“You’re done, are you? Castin’ out the last family you’ve got?”
Angel flinched –Connor- slightly, but never lifted his head, “Dru’s somewhere, the last postcard I got was from Brindisi, Italy; but that was weeks ago, I should be getting another any day now,” Angel stared at the stack of messages, none of which he planned on returning.
“Drusilla? You got a postcard from Drusilla? Wait, you’re sending me to Buffy? Alright, what’s the catch, there’s always a catch.”
“No catch, it’s worth getting you gone. As for Dru, well, she’s different since the Darla thing and we have a common ground of sorts and, and I don’t have to explain myself to you! I’m giving you an out, I’m handing you the girl, I’m giving you a plane, I’ll even give you money. Lots of money.” Angel felt tired and lost, he needed Spike to be far away or closer than he was. And he was sure the latter was never going to happen.
“Don’t want it, none of it.”
“Then what the fuck do you want, your precious black fire trap? That car’s hardly worth shit, but you know what, I’ll get someone on it. As long as you go once it’s ready.”
Spike gave Angel a look of mock contemplation, “No… no, I don’t think so. Car’s not all I want.” He took several slow deliberate steps until he’d reached the large mahogany desk. He braced his arms and leaned across it into Angel’s personal space. “Seems to me, the more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that what I want is right here.”
“Harmony?”
“Wrong again, love, but you knew that. I’m thinking someone a little more caveman looking, but pretty. You are pretty, you know.” Spike weaved around the desk and eased himself between the open end and Angel’s chair. He placed a hand on each side of the high back executive chair and pushed to until it struck the wall. Leaning in he whispered softly in the elder vampire’s ear, “but I still want my Desoto just like I ordered and when it comes in you come find me,” Angel opened his mouth to speak and Spike lunged forward and licked Angel’s lower lip with a ghost of a swipe, “shh… don’t worry, pet, I’ll be around. You come find me and then I’ll take you out for a drive. Somewhere where the trees grow far too tall and the morning sun loses its fight to shine through the leaves. It’ll be gorgeous. Then you can bend me over the hood and shag me. Not like we used to, oh, no, you’re gonna fuck me nice and slow, gonna take your time, you are. We can do it there in the middle of a forest road and no one’ll be there to watch us, to bother us to fight for a world that’s not ours.”
Spike pulled back, gave Angel one last look and walked out the double doors.