Pairing: Angel/Spike
Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the Buffy or Angel characters. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc do. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred and no profit is being made (as if people would pay money for my work anyway!)
Notes: Sequel(ish) to Overheard. It’s yet another bit of nonsense, a little plot that simply refused to go away. I was compelled to type it just so that I could stop thinking about it and get back to the stories I’m trying to do…and yeah I know its crap, but a least it’s out of the way now!
Spoilers : None
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Wesley froze in his tracks as he passed the door to Angel’s office.
“Wes?” Gunn looked questioningly at Wes wondering why he’d stopped.
“I heard a noise,” Wes hushed, moving closer to Angel’s closed door and motioning that Gunn should join him.
“Oh no, we’re not doing this again,” Gunn stated taking hold of Wes’ arm and pulling him away from the door. “You know how this turned out last time. Whatever Angel’s up to I’m sure he can handle it without any interference from us.”
“But,” Wesley started to protest.
“But what?” Gunn asked with a sigh.
“But it sounds like he’s…crying?” Wes wasn’t sure himself what name he’d give to the noise that Angel was making. He was either very distressed or alternatively, very happy.
Gunn leaned in a little closer and listened.
“Just hold still alright,” Spike’s voice, full of comfort, sounded from behind the closed door.
“There, he’s got Spike with him. He doesn’t need us,” Gunn reasoned, stepping back from the door again and tugging at Wesley’s sleeve to get him to walk on.
Wesley stood firm.
“Ah fuck Spike, don’t pull!” Angel ground out.
“Wes?” Gunn questioned, hands on his hips waiting for his friend to walk on with him.
“Wait,” Wes hushed, waving his hand at Gunn to be quiet.
“Wes!” Gunn said more firmly, “whatever is going on in there is none of our business.”
“But what if…” Wes began.
“What if what?” Gunn was losing his patience now. “Christ Wes, anyone would think that you *want* to catch them doing something given the amount of times you’ve been *hearing things* recently. You know they’re not gonna be happy if they catch you right? It’s like you’re a voyeur…or something.”
“A voyeur would involve me using my eyes,” Wes muttered distractedly, “it’s from the Latin videre.”
“Well then you’re a, a, an audioeur then,” Gunn finished with a snort.
“An audioeur?” Wes questioned turning his face to look up at friend for an instant. “Charles that’s not even a word,” he shook his head disbelievingly before once again pressing his ear to the door and listening intently.
“Let me do it Sire,” Angel mock impersonated Spike’s voice, “it’ll help you relax.”
“I said I was sorry. It’ll be alright,” Spike tried to reassure him and did sound genuinely apologetic.
“How is it going to be alright? It’ll never be the same again,” the despair was evident in Angel’s tone of voice.
“Don’t worry it’ll spring back into shape, trust me,” again Spike tried to console Angel.
“Trust you? You’ve got your fist stuck in…ahh shit, that hurts. I said don’t pull!” Angel half snapped, half groaned.
“Sorry. Look I don’t know why you won’t let me call one of the others for help,” Spike’s voice was pleading.
“Wes!” Gunn hissed at his friend wanting to go before they were called in to help with whatever situation Angel and Spike had gotten into.
“I told you already, no one is seeing me like this. Try uncurling your fingers…ahh…ahh…slowly!” Angel grunted in pain then fell into a muttered string of curses. “Stop! Stop!”
It was Spike’s turn to moan in pain then, “Fucking hell, don’t squeeze my hand so hard.”
“What do you suppose they’re doing?” Wes hushed at Gunn.
Gunn just looked at him incredulously. Wasn’t it obvious what they were doing?
“This isn’t going to work,” Angel sounded defeated. “We need something to loosen it up a bit.”
“Scissors?” Spike offered helpfully.
Wes winced, letting Gunn know that he did indeed have an idea of what was transpiring on the other side of the door even though he’d asked his seemingly innocent question only a moment ago.
“Not unless you’re gonna use them to cut your hand off,” Angel vetoed Spike’s suggestion quickly.
“Look, “Angel sighed heavily as if preparing himself for yet more discomfort, “just do it fast ok, like ripping off a plaster. Get it over with quickly.”
“Are you sure,” Spike asked, worry creeping into his voice.
“Well, I don’t know what else to do,” Angel sounded at a complete loss.
“Why don’t we just phone…” Spike started to suggest again.
“NO!” Angel was adamant.
“They won’t laugh at you and…”
“NO! William. I’m not having anyone see my….see *me* like this!”
“Alright,” Spike said after a moment of silence. “Are you ready?”
Angel could be heard sucking in a breath in readiness, “Do it!”
Wes held his breath too and clenched his butt cheeks together in sympathy. Oh yes, he had a very clear idea of the situation that the vampires had gotten themselves into.
“I’m sorry Sire,” Spike breathed, sounding truly remorseful before he obviously did what needed doing.
Angel tried to hold back on a scream, and managed quite well considering, although he had a harder time controlling the sobbing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Spike chanted, then, “Oh bugger.”
“What?” Angel sounded anxious.
“It’s…um…there’s a bit of blood. Torn your skin a bit s’all,” Spike said warily then covered with a quick semi reassuring semi nervous flourish, “but don’t worry, it’s alright, not too much damage done.”
“Ohhh,” Angel wailed pitifully.
“It’s alright Sire,” Spike’s voice was soft and compassionate as he once again tried to consol Angel. “Come on Angel, please don’t cry. Hey, come on Luv, it could be worse.”
“How could it possibly be worse?” Angel sniffed.
“Could have both hands stuck,” Spike tried to make light of the situation. “Look, why don’t you just let me get someone to help huh? We can’t just stay here like this. Maybe Gunn wouldn’t understand but I’m sure Wes would…and he’d be professional about it. What do you say Angelus? Let me phone Wes huh?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Gunn’s tone was beyond incredulous as he caught hold of Wes’ hand, stilling him in his actions before he could open the door.
“They need me,” Wes stated firmly, ignoring the burning blush that he could feel infusing his face.
“Don’t want to,” Angel sounded sulky now, like a little child.
“Well I’m all out of ideas,” Spike sighed dejectedly.
There was silence for a while. Spike was the one to break it, “I really am sorry. I wanted to do something nice for you…you’ve been working so hard and...” the sorrow in Spike’s voice was almost tangible.
“I know, I know,” Angel cut in, trying to sooth him. “It was a nice thought and well, accidents happen. I know you were only trying to help. I know you meant well Will.”
Wes couldn’t hear what the pair were saying properly now, at least not with Gunn pulling at him and yammering on about getting away from the door. When he did manage to shake off Gunn, Wes found that he still couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t decipher the low comforting mumbles being offered by Angel to his Childe, no matter how eagerly he listened.
Wes jumped when his cell phone vibrated silently against his thigh; he fumbled in his trouser pocket for it then answered breathily, “Wesley Wynd ….Spike?”
From inside the office both Angel and Spike clearly heard Gunn’s mortified wail of “Oh God!” from right outside the door.
They looked at each other confused for a second before it clicked with Spike. “They’re bloody well eavesdropping again,” Spike ground out angrily. “What is it with them two…ah shit Angel, fucking hell you’re too tall, bend down a bit yeah? Ow, you’re breaking my wrist. Angelus! Sire!” Spike spluttered as he tried to keep up with Angel currently steaming his way towards the office door.
Angel wrenched open the door so fast that Wes actually tumbled into the office, thrown off balance where he’d been leaning against the door.
“I…” Wes began, slowly raising himself from the floor. “Huh?” Wes questioned intelligently, utterly confused as he found that he wasn’t confronted with the scene that he’d been imagining, and instead found Angel glaring at him with his arms crossed over his chest. More confusing was the fact that Spike, looking equally pissed off, was standing on his tip toes, struggling to hold his hand on top of his Sire’s head.
Angel motioned sharply that Wes should take a seat, and then took up his own chair again much to Spike’s relief.
“Gunn?” Angel questioned, intoning that he should come into the office too.
“What?” Gunn asked from just outside the door, hands firmly over his eyes as they had been since the office door had been thrown open.
“Come in and close the door,” Angel suggested. “Why don’t you have a seat too?” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s alright Charles, it’s safe to come in,” Wesley stated miserably. “They’re not doing anything,” he finished with a sigh, sounding suspiciously disappointed.
Infused with anger for a moment Angel had amazingly been able to forget his predicament. He was just about to lecture both Wes and Gunn on the concept of privacy when everything came flooding back to him. It was all too much and with a thump Angel let his forehead fall to the desk in shame and embarrassment, his actions causing Spike’s arm to be wrenched forward as he still kept his hand comfortingly resting on his Sire’s head.
“Angel?” Wes asked; his voice full of concern.
Spike looked down at his Sire’s sorry form. “Well it’s like this you see,” Spike sighed as he prepared to tell the tale for Angel. “Thought I’d offer Angel a nice Indian head massage seeing as he’s been working his balls off, getting all stressed like….so, um, well there I was massaging away when, well my hand sorta got a bit tangled at first and,” Spike shrugged, “now it’s kinda stuck. Turns out if you mix that there head massaging oil with Angel’s hair gel it, well…it sets like glue.”
THE END