RATING: PG-13 for slashiness.
SUMMARY: Lindsey discovers a secret about Angel.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them.
NOTE: I wrote a longer version of this, and then when I tried to save it, stupid AOL closed and I lost the whole thing. So...I was too pissed off the recreate the long version. (That may be a good thing....cause this is the stupidest thing I have ever written.)


Shinin', Flaxen, Waxin'

by Rebecca Carefoot


Lindsey peeked cautiously out from around the marble column where he was hiding. The hotel seemed deserted, the members of the A-team nowhere to be seen. He pulled his head back behind the marble column and turned. Angel's face loomed barely a foot away. Angel raised his eyebrows, and then Lindsey's head cracked against the column with the force of Angel's hand slamming into his throat.

Angel's cheek brushed against Lindsey's collar as he leaned forward. His mouth hovered next to Lindsey's ear. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Angel asked softly. Lindsey felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, strange and straining. His ear felt cold, then suddenly warm. His good hand was clasped tight around the wrist that rested at his collar bone.

"Hhhhh..." he tried to speak, but the hand squeezed too tight against his throat to allow any words to pass. Angel pulled back, loosening his grip, and waited. He slouched, his shoulders hunched so his nose rested just inches from Lindsey's, maybe less. Lindsey met his eyes. Dark eyes, with anger flashing in them. Closed to everything else, hiding depth. He wondered how deep they went. He dropped his gaze at the thought that his own blue eyes hid no such depth. His unsteady glare caught on Angel's bottom lip when Angel spoke again through clenched teeth.

"Answer me fast." He twitched his fingers, a reminder. And then Lindsey surged forward, and his lips collided so hard with Angel's that his teeth cut into the inside of his mouth. Angel froze, then his lips tugged back at Lindsey's and his tongue forced its way into Lindsey's mouth. Lindsey's hand traveled from the wrist he held, down Angel's arm past the elbow, to clutch at Angel's ribs through handfuls of black silk. The plastic toy that covered his stump traced lightly over slippery silk shoulder and up the back of Angel's neck. It rested briefly in the spikes of Angel's hair, then Lindsay pulled up. He felt resistance against the plastic, but dragged his hand up until it was free.

His lips still locked to Angel's, his eyes traveled up to his hand when he realized be could still feel an odd, unfamiliar weight against the dead material. Then he yelped in surprise, and pulled back, almost slipping against the column, his arm extended away from his body.

"You...your hair!" Lindsey said. Angel looked dazed at his hand.

"What about it?" Angel said defensively. He snatched the toupee off Lindsey's hand and placed it back on his head where it perched lopsided, like a drunken squirrel.

"You wear a wig?" Lindsey said.

"Big deal," Angel said. "You have a fake hand."

"Because you sliced off my real one!"

Angel reached toward Lindsey's arm, and Lindsey shrugged away. "Hey!" Angel said. "You're the one who practically mauled me."

"Yeah, but that was before," Lindsey said. "When I thought you had really good hair."

"You were only interested in me because of my hair."

"Look, it's a shock," Lindsey defended himself.

"It's just hair."

"Then why bother with the toupee? It's not like it affects how strong you are or something."

"Maybe not," Angel agreed. "But I have a rep here. If I didn't wear this," he gingerly touched it, and it slid just a fraction off its perch, "then when I walked by people wouldn't be saying hey look at that mysterious guy in the dark coat, they'd be saying hey look at that big bald guy. And frankly...bald...not exactly striking fear into the hearts of my enemies."

"How can you be bald? You're a vampire, you don't age."

"It's not male pattern baldness," Angel said annoyed. "I'm from the Master's line."

"And that should mean what to me exactly?"

"Have you ever seen any pictures of the Master?" Angel asked. "Maybe Darla described him to you."

"First of all, don't bring up Darla," Lindsey said. "And second, no."

"He had a head like a cue ball," Angel said. "And there was this rabid bat with a cold thing happening on his face."

"So he was an ugly dude," Lindsey said. "Vampires look like themselves as humans, so not really seeing the point here."

"He wasn't born that way," Angel said, rolling his eyes. "When vampires get old, they get...different."

"Okay fine," Lindsey said. "But you're not even half his age."

"Actually, I am," Angel said. "People always forget that I spent about two hundred years in hell. I'm almost 500 now."

"So you're saying pretty soon your face..." Lindsey shook his head. "That sucks."

"Yeah."

"I mean, what a waste."

"Well, it hasn't happened yet," Angel said. "We could still..."

Lindsey squinched his face and shook his head. "I'm thinking no," he said. "I mean no offense or anything."

Angel sighed. "Yeah well...it was worth a try."

"I guess I should..." Lindsey turned toward the door.

"Hey, you won't tell anyone about this, will you?" Angel said.

Lindsey smiled. "Of course not." He touched the bruises blossoming on his throat. "I'm not in the mood to die just yet."

Angel smiled back, his teeth glinting. "You know I would."

"I know," Lindsey said. "I wasn't kidding."

Angel nodded, and motioned with his head. "Then go." Lindsey waited until he got outside the hotel before leaning against the stone walls. He covered his face with his plastic hand and laughed.

end


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