Prologue
"Bloody hell, I hate you, Angel. Make me get all suited up to go to a soddin' ballet..."
Angel grinned at Spike's muttering, which he could hear coming from the bedroom as he waited for the blond to finish dressing. It was Sunday, their second anniversary as a committed couple. The two vampires had started celebrating precisely at midnight, and most of the day had been spent in bed, to which Angel had nary a complaint against.
A half-eaten cake sat on the coffee table, and the dark-haired vampire ran his finger through the frosting on it. The red gel smeared, making the misspelled "aniversery" even more illegible.
Angel stuck his frosting-covered finger in his mouth and sucked the sweet gel off. Earlier that morning, he had been struck speechless when Spike had dropped the plate holding the cake onto the coffee table with a mumbled "Happy Anniversary, you ugly sod." Spike had stood beside the couch, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and avoided the dark-haired man's gaze.
"It's Angel Food Cake," Spike had said with a gruffness to his voice. "I made it myself."
It had been a very romantic gesture, and one that Angel hadn't expected. Spike's normal idea of romance was an expensive trinket that he'd stolen or killed to get. Baking a cake and frosting it himself was touching, and it made Angel's heart almost burst with happiness because of what it meant.
Spike loved him.
The fluffy white cake had been lopsided, missing chunks where it had stuck to the pan, and the red gel words had been barely legible. Angel remembered he'd stared at the cake for a long, stunned moment, then he'd raised his gaze to the blushing blond.
Ten minutes later, they had been in a sweaty tangle on the floor, laughing softly as they had fed each other pieces of cake.
"Why do we have to go to this effin' thing?" Spike asked as he exited the bedroom, scowling down at his unknotted black bow-tie.
"Because David gave us the tickets, I like the ballet, and I wanted to see you wearing a tuxedo again," Angel answered. He walked over to the younger man and nimbly knotted the bow-tie.
"I could always parade around in this penguin suit here," Spike suggested.
"Hey, it's your own fault," Angel said, taking a step back to survey his gorgeous Childe from head to toe. Spike was dressed in a classic-cut tuxedo, the same one that he'd worn last Halloween. An uncomfortable bulge suddenly pressed against the seams of Angel's black tuxedo pants.
"How's that?" Spike said.
Angel picked up his tuxedo jacket from the arm of the couch, slid it on, and blatantly ignored the little voice in his head telling him to jump Spike's bones. "Because you said that anything that I wanted to do today was fine with you."
"I meant naked things," Spike said. He gestured emphatically towards the bedroom. "Anything you wanted to do in bed today was fine with me."
"You should have been more specific," Angel tisked, a grin of amusement curving his lips.
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later, sweetheart." Angel winked at Spike. "Right now we have a ballet to attend."
Spike scowled at him. "I hate you."
"I know," Angel started for the door, "but you still have to go."
Part One
The seats David Nabbit had given them tickets for were in the very center of the sloped auditorium, affording the two vampires a clear view of the stage without the need for spectacles. The plush reds and golds of the American Ballet Company's extension theater were highlighted by the crystal chandeliers hanging from the high, arched ceilings. Men and women chatted softly with their neighbors, their voices and clothing dripping with wealth and privilege.
Spike flopped into his assigned seat, scrunched down and put his polished black dress shoes on the seat in front of him.
Angel thwapped him on the head with a program. "Put your feet down," the dark-haired man hissed.
Spike sighed loudly and dropped his feet to the floor. He immediately started to bounce his leg. Only ten minutes had passed since they'd arrived and he was already bored.
"How much longer until it starts, peaches?" he asked.
"Forty-five minutes," Angel replied.
"Forty-five minutes!" Spike exclaimed. "Why the bloody hell did we get here so early?"
"Because we did," Angel said, not looking up from the program he was reading.
"I'm going outside," Spike growled, rising to his feet.
"Stay out of trouble," Angel warned.
"Bugger off," Spike grumbled before heading down the aisle towards escape.
Angel watched his Childe's retreating figure until the younger man disappeared through the auditorium doors, then sighed. Maybe coming to the ballet wasn't such a good idea.
A loud crack echoed in the auditorium.
The lights went off.
Angel jumped, startled, as undoubtably everyone else was in the theater. He got swiftly to his feet and looked around futilely. He let his features twist into their true countenance, and found he could see slightly through his gold eyes.
The murmur of voices grew steadily louder the longer the lights stayed off. Angel tried to sense if there was any danger, but the number of humans in the auditorium overwhelmed any scent of threats there might be.
A high-pitched whine came from the front of the theater, followed by a man's voice. Angel could barely discern a figure standing on the stage with a megaphone in hand.
"May I have your attention please," the man said. "The Goodwin Theater apologizes for the inconvenience of the lack of lighting. The building has been hit by lightning, which is why the power went out. The emergency lighting should kick in shortly. Please, remain where you are until this occurs. Thank you."
The megaphone whined again as the man finished. A few seconds later, the emergency lights around the edges of the theater went on. Angel quickly slipped his human mask into place, but he didn't sit down. Despite the non-supernatural nature that caused the power outage, there was still a danger from the humans in the theater to panic or for thieves to strike. Wealth and privilege did not preclude unlawful behavior.
Angel let his gaze slowly travel around the large theater. When his eyes landed on the stage again, he blinked in shock.
Spike was standing on the stage, looking directly at him.
The blond vampire raised his hand and waggled his fingers. Stunned, Angel lifted his hand in a wave back.
Spike's white smile flashed in the semi-darkness. The younger vampire crooked his finger, indicating he wanted Angel to come to him. Then, he took two steps forward and off the edge of the stage, dropping out of sight into the orchestra pit.
Angel frowned. What was Spike up to?, he wondered. Aside from getting into trouble, that was.
The dark-haired vampire worked his way down the aisle and to the front of the theater. He had to stand on his toes to see over the chest-high wall that separated the orchestra pit from the audience. When he didn't see Spike, he glanced at the patrons in the front rows, then hopped over the wall with ease.
"Over here, peaches."
Angel turned towards the whisper and found Spike gesturing to him from a doorway hidden in the wall of the stage. "I thought I told you to keep out of trouble," Angel hissed as he joined the blond.
"I am keepin' out of trouble," Spike stated. "Now, come on."
Spike descended the stairs behind the hidden door, and Angel quickly followed him. The stairs wound in a spiral, and Angel was forced to let his demon-face to the foreground in order to see.
The walls and steps went from wood to stone as the two vampires continued to go down them. "Do you know where you're going?" Angel finally asked.
"Yes," Spike replied.
When no more information was forthcoming, Angel sighed. "Spike, where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"And I'm the cryptic one?" Angel muttered to himself as he continued to descend the stairs.
Spike chuckled. "Patience, you poof."
Angel shut up, but mentally cursed his lover. Spike could be the biggest pain in the ass at times.
The steps finally ended in front of a rusty metal gate. Angel looked on the wall above it, half- expecting to see Dante's well-known quote etched into the stone. They'd walked down far enough.
Spike gripped the bars and pushed. The gate squealed loudly in protest as it opened, making Angel wince at the high-pitched noise. The younger vampire threw a grin over his shoulder before walking through the now-open doorway.
"Spike, where are we?" the dark-haired man asked again as he followed Spike.
"We're beneath the theater," Spike said.
"I figured that much," Angel said with irritation. "If you're taking me on a hunt to find the Phantom of the Opera, I am going to kill you."
Spike laughed. "No, although I should have thought of that."
"Spike..."
"Calm down, pet," Spike said. "We're just about there."
"Where's there?" Angel growled. He followed Spike around a sharp corner and stopped short.
"There's here," Spike said in a soft voice.
"Oh," Angel breathed in wonder.
The small cavern Spike had led him to was awe-striking. The walls and ceiling were covered in tiny, jagged crystals, which glowed in a faint neon-green color. Random lines of brighter neon-green wove through the crystals, and what looked like a stone bench rose from the floor.
"That bright green stuff is lichen," Spike said, his voice still hushed, and he gestured towards the wall. "It's reflecting in the crystals, which is why the walls are glowing."
The blond walked into the cavern and sat down on the stone bench. Angel followed slowly, his eyes roving over the walls and ceiling. "How did you find this place?" the older man asked.
"I remembered reading about it a long time ago," Spike replied. Angel sat down beside him. "The spelunkers who first found this place carved out the stairs and used to give tours, but they charged too much and people lost interest. When the theater was built, the architects were paid to keep the entrance accessible for scientists and other nerds."
"It's beautiful," Angel whispered.
They sat together in silence, bathed in the soft green glow from the walls. Angel reached over, took Spike's hand and entwined their fingers together. The cigar band ring Spike had worn for two years pressed against Angel's finger. A serenity slowly surrounded the dark-haired vampire, and for the first time since he'd regained his soul, he felt at peace.
"I love you, Angelus," Spike said quietly, the words unprompted and unexpected.
Angel turned to Spike and saw the sincere emotion reflected in his eyes. The older man's heart swelled. He squeezed Spike's hand and responded, "I love you, too, Will."
Spike smiled, his entire face lighting up with happiness. Angel leaned towards him, and their lips met in a gentle kiss.
"Thank you for showing me this," Angel said after they moved apart.
"Well, I knew it was the poofy sort of thing you liked," Spike said with an embarrassed shrug. "Besides, I was bored."
Angel chuckled. "And I bet you were hoping I'd forget about the ballet and stay down here 'shagging' you."
Spike grinned. "You know me so well."
"My sweet Will." Angel leaned towards Spike again and, when his mouth was a hairbreadth from the blond's, he murmured, "We are not missing the ballet."
The dark-haired vampire pulled back abruptly and stood. Spike glowered up at him. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"
"Yes," Angel replied, heading out of the cavern.
Spike muttered something obscene -- as well as physically impossible -- in response, before following his Sire back to the theater.
Part Two
For someone who hated the ballet, Spike was really focused on it.
Angel hid his smile at his Childe's rapt attention to the stage. It helped that the ballet had lots of stage fighting, including fencing. Every once in awhile, Spike would mutter to himself about how he could have done that, or his fingers would tense under Angel's on the dark-haired vampire's thigh. It was amusing, and Angel'd bet money that Spike would want to play with swords when they got home.
The power had come back on ten minutes before the ballet was to begin, much to the theater company's relief. When the ballet had first started, Angel had wondered if he could manage to keep from pummeling his errant boy. Spike had spent the opening fifteen minutes wiggling, sighing loudly, and putting his feet on the back of the seat in front of him. Angel had to spend the second fifteen minutes putting up with the blond's wandering hand until the older man had captured it with his own. Then, the mock battle had erupted on stage, and Spike hadn't moved since.
The music crescendoed and cut off, the curtain fell, and the house lights rose, signaling intermission.
"Did you see that git in the black tights?" Spike said enthusiastically.
"They were all wearing black tights," Angel replied.
"I mean the one with the sword at the end there," Spike said.
"They all had swords at the end," Angel said with a smirk.
Spike glared at him. "Cut it out, you sod."
"Sorry," Angel said clearly not apologetic at all. "Go ahead. What did you want to tell me?"
"Nuthin'," Spike said with a pout. "I'm not talking to you anymore."
Angel lightly squeezed Spike's hand, which he was still holding. "I'm serious now. What did you like that the lead did at the end?"
"That flippy thing," Spike replied somewhat sullenly.
"I could probably do that," Angel said, wanting to pull Spike out of his 'pouting teenager' impersonation.
Spike snorted. "You couldn't get your fat arse off the ground, let alone do that."
"Fat ass?"
"Yep," Spike shot him a grin, "I've seen it with my own eyes, lard-bum."
"Well, guess who's not going to be seeing it again any time soon?" Angel said, trying to sound seriously ticked. His twitching smile betrayed him.
"Hi, guys!"
Angel and Spike both looked up and saw David Nabbit standing in the row in front of them, with a large smile on his face.
"David, hello." Angel rose and offered his hand to the tuxedo-clad brunette. "Thank you for the tickets."
David shrugged as he shook the vampire's hand. "It's nothing. I had rows of them."
Angel smiled and turned slightly to the blond, who had stood up beside him. "David, I don't know if you've ever met Spike, my..." he trailed off, unsure as to how to complete the sentence.
Then, Spike supplied such an unforeseen label that Angel's mouth dropped completely open in shock.
"Boyfriend," Spike said. The younger vampire shook David's hand. "And we've met once before, a few month's back."
"I remember," David said, smile still in place. "So, do you like the ballet?"
Angel didn't reply. He was too busy staring owlishly at Spike.
Spike rolled his eyes at his Sire's behavior and answered, "Yeah, mate, we are. And I hate the ballet."
"I do, too, normally," David said. "But when I read about the large amount of stage fighting, I figured, what the hell."
"Boyfriend?"
Spike and David both looked at Angel. "Uh, yeah, pet. We're past that part already," Spike said, amusement heavy in his voice.
Angel blinked several times, still staring at the blond. Spike smirked at him, then turned back to David.
"Do you have a bird?" the blond asked.
David frowned. "No. I don't do very well with pets."
"A girlfriend, David," Spike corrected with a sigh of exasperation. "Or a boyfriend. Or a favorite sheep."
"Oh." David shook his head. "No, I don't. Girls tend to avoid me." He smiled wryly. "Correction, people in general tend to avoid me."
"But you like the skirts, right?" Spike said. "You're not like me and peaches here."
Angel decided he'd better sit down. Spike's blatant admission that the two of them were both currently male-oriented and a couple -- announced in public! -- was a little too much for him.
"Girls," David replied to Spike.
"And would you mind being told what to do by a chit?" Spike asked him. "Would you mind if she had to leave suddenly, in the middle of a date, without explanation?"
"That happens now," David said with a self-depreciating chuckle.
"Spike, what are you doing?" Angel said, foregoing sitting to frown at his Childe.
"Do you know how to get to Sunnydale?" Spike asked David.
"You're not thinking of setting him up with Buffy," Angel said.
"Why not?" Spike said, glancing up at Angel. "He's single. She's annoying me-"
"No," Angel interrupted with a shake of his head.
Spike cocked his brow. "And you have an objection why?"
"Because... uh, because..."
Spike reached out, hooked his finger on Angel's white dress shirt collar and pulled it down to expose the tattoo on his Sire's neck. "Do you see this?"
"I can't see it because it's on my neck," Angel said dryly. "And there's that whole lack of reflection thing."
"Stop being a bloody nonce," the blond vampire growled at him. He scratched his fingernail roughly over the tattoo. "This means you're mine, not the Slayer's, so why should you care if I set her up with some bloke."
"No offense David," Angel glanced at the brunette, "but you're not her type."
"I've been told that about many girls," David said. "You could say 'all' and you wouldn't be wrong."
"Who's her type then? You?" Spike snorted. "You don't know her anymore, you effin' arsebandit."
"I do, too," Angel protested.
"Do not," Spike said. "Buffy's my best mate, who I see almost every soddin' night. When's the last time you saw her?"
"Uh-"
"It was when you got your stupid hide kidnapped," Spike answered for him. "I saw her last Tuesday, just before I left Sunnyhell for here."
"She still wouldn't-"
Spike suddenly shoved Angel down into a seat with a snarl, then turned to David. "David, my number is 609-525-6731. Ring me and I'll hook you up."
The blond looked back at Angel, his blue eye blazing. "And you are a fucking arsehole," he hissed. Then, he stormed up the aisle, shoving people's legs out of the way, and left the theater.
"Boy, I wish someone would get that jealous because of me," David commented.
Angel had been stunned into silence again. A few minutes ago, Spike had called him "boyfriend." A few seconds ago, the blond had stormed off in an angry huff.
"Um, I may not have... any, actually... experience with having a significant other," David looked at Angel, "but isn't this supposed to be the part where you go running after him?"
"Oh, yeah." Angel jumped to his feet in an almost comical manner and was about to run up the aisle when he paused. "Call Spike about Buffy sometime. I don't think you're her type, but I don't really care who she dates one way or another."
"Th-thanks!" David said as Angel hurried away.
*****
Angel found Spike, along with several stage hands, smoking by the stage door of the theater. The blond laughed at something one of the men said, and Angel felt a bolt of jealousy hit him.
My Will, he mentally growled, stalking directly towards his Childe.
Spike caught his eyes, and Angel was pulled up short by the hurt he saw in the cerulean orbs. He didn't really forget, but he also hadn't consciously remembered that, for all of Spike's typical vampiric uncaring behavior, the younger man had an easily bruised heart.
Angel gestured with his head for Spike to join him before he headed further up the street, away from the stage hands. Spike's dress shoes clicked softly on the pavement as he approached. The dark-haired vampire stopped and turned to his Childe.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately.
"What else is new?" Spike took a drag from his cigarette and looked around the semi-lit street.
Angel sighed. "I didn't meant to make you jealous-"
Spike snorted. "You didn't. I'd have to care first for that to happen."
"I wish you wouldn't brush me off like that," Angel said with exasperation.
"And I wish you'd bugger off and let me enjoy my fag in peace," Spike retorted.
"Damn it, Spike, I didn't want to fight with you today." Angel clenched his fists to stop himself from grabbing the blond and shaking him in frustration. "I don't give a flying fig if you set Buffy up with someone-"
"Then why'd you protest in the first place?" Spike interrupted. He angrily flicked his cigarette away. "Why the bloody hell did you make such a big deal about David not bein' her type?"
"Because I heard the loneliness in her voice when I spoke with her last week," Angel said. "And I don't want to add to it by having her date someone who clearly isn't for her."
"Well then, why don't you go date her yourself, since it's fucking obvious that the only one who'd meet your standards for her is you!"
Angel grabbed Spike by the upper arms and glared at him. "You are the most frustrating man I've ever met," he ground out.
"And you're a fucking-"
"Will you shut up?!" Angel snapped. "I'm trying to explain and you're acting like a green-eyed shrew!"
Spike arched his scarred brow at Angel's descriptive, but kept silent.
"Now." Angel took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly in order to calm down, then went on. "I care deeply for Buffy. She has her own little compartment in my heart, and everything that happens to her effects me, too. I want to see her happy and loved."
Angel searched Spike's eyes for understanding as he continued. "Another compartment in my heart is filled with love for my friends. I have a need to make sure they're content with their lives, too."
"You are such a nancyboy," Spike said, a corner of his mouth curling in a half-smirk.
"Shush," Angel chastised, relieved that Spike seemed to have forgiven him. "This nancyboy isn't done yet."
Spike rolled his eyes and gestured for Angel to go on.
"Thank you," Angel said. He glanced over Spike's shoulder towards the stage door and, when he saw that the stage hands were gone, he dropped a quick kiss on the blond's lips.
Spike shifted in discomfort and looked around. "Angelus...," he trailed off in self-consciousness.
"No one's looking," Angel said with a smile.
"Will you just finish already so we can go back and watch the rest of the soddin' ballet?" Spike grumbled.
"The only other thing I have to say is that the rest of my heart is filled with my love for you," Angel said. "And your wants, needs and happiness are more important to me than a hundred Buffy's would be."
"What I want is for you to stop yammering," Spike said, the hurt completely gone from his eyes. "And then I need another fag."
Angel played along, glad that things were okay between them again. "Would those two things make you happy?"
"Nah," Spike said. "You actin' like a great steamin' poof has already got that covered."
Angel chuckled and released the blond. "You have your smoke and I'll met you inside."
"Right," Spike said.
Angel started to walk away, calling over his shoulder. "And stay out of trouble."
"Blow me."
Angel stopped, turned and shot Spike a wicked grin. "Count on it."
Epilogue
Angel lay with his head on Spike's bare abdomen and watched as the time crept closer to midnight. Spike's fingers ran through Angel's soft, clean hair, the two of them having showered before tumbling into bed.
"If I had one wish," Angel began quietly. "I'd wish that all of my tomorrows could be like today."
Spike chuckled softly. "Including the fight?"
"Mm-hmm." Angel's finger traced an invisible pattern on Spike's thigh. "We have to fight at least once so we can make up afterwards."
"You really are a great big poofter, you know that?"
"Guilty," Angel said. He sighed in contentment and fell silent.
The minute hand on the clock continued its forward march. Every time the second hand passed twelve it brought the two vampires' second anniversary closer to an end. An end that Angel didn't want to happen.
"What about you?" Angel asked.
"What about me what?" Spike said.
"If you had one wish, what would it be?" Angel turned his head to look at Spike. The blond gave him a 'you are so pathetic' look. Angel flicked the younger vampire under the chin and said, "Humor me."
"If I had one wish, what would it be?" Spike said. Angel nodded. Spike sighed exaggeratedly before answering, "I'd wish for it to be tomorrow."
Angel frowned. "You'd wish for it to be tomorrow?"
"Gettin' deaf, old man...," Spike joked.
"I don't get it." Angel scowled and went on before Spike mocked him further. "Not the deaf part, your wish. Here I've wish for today to repeat itself, and you want it to be tomorrow."
Spike's teasing smile became softer, and he ran his fingers down the side of Angel's cheek. "I'd wish for it to be tomorrow, Angelus, because all of my wishes for tomorrow have come true today."
Angel's eyes crinkled in the corners because of the huge smile that crossed his face. "Who's the great big poof now?" he ribbed as happiness spread through every part of his soul.
Spike winked. "Don't let it get out, pet. I've got a reputation to protect."
"You're secret's safe with me..." Angel rose up until he was face-to-face with Spike, their lips millimeters apart. "...for a kiss."
Spike screwed up his face in mock disgust. "Cor, not that. Anything but th--"
End