A Brief and Somewhat Lethargic Interlude

By Kay Tee

Author's Note: For Pandora Rahl, 'cause there's not enough S/Do out there. Write her some! She gave me the challenge (it's at the end of the fic). I set the story post-season 6/3, hope that counts...

Doyle grumbled quietly to himself as he trudged through the rain. Apparently he was the expert on setting souled vampires on their true path in life, and far be it from The Powers to let a tiny matter like his horrible, excruciating death stop them from sending him on one last mission.

He was really dreading this meeting though. Doyle had met this Spike character once, before the vampire got a soul, and he was *scary*.

The half-demon had procrastinated plenty, checking out all the local bars and generally making a nuisance of himself in the various illegal gambling establishments London had to offer. Now he needed to get to work before the job was taken away from him. The higher-ups had been pretty clear on the terms for releasing Doyle, and he was not eager to piss them off.

Up ahead, he spotted the slim blond wearing the ubiquitous black leather duster common to all souled vampires. Before Spike came too close, Doyle ducked into the shadows of a conveniently close alley.

His plan was to follow Spike home and confront him there, but that was all blown right to hell when the vampire got close enough for Doyle to see clearly. Dark blond curls framed the vampire's wet face, which glowed with the ethereal beauty of the undead that Doyle vaguely remembered from his days at Angel Investigations. Spike's face was a mixture of harsh lines and delicate features, highlighted by vulnerable, distant blue eyes that glanced into the alley, on guard out of habit more than anything else. But Doyle was so captivated by the face he'd never really looked at before that he forgot to evade the prying eyes, and Spike steered into the alley.

The vampire, tired of the demons that haunted his homeland, grabbed Doyle roughly and tossed him into the street. "What's this, then?" Spike asked conversationally, drawing a stake from his waistband. "Out for a late night snack?"

Doyle scrambled to his feet, putting a defensive hand in front of him and saying urgently, "Spike, wait. I'm not evil, I was looking for you."

Spike dropped his hand to his side, still gripping the stake, but willing to listen. "I know you?" He studied Doyle thoughtfully for a moment before his face cleared. "Oh. Right. You're that git that works for Angel. What's m'sire up to these days anyway?"

Doyle was shocked. "You remember me?"

Those lovely eyes rolled theatrically. "I remember a lot of things, mate," Spike said condescendingly. "Don't start thinking you're special."

"Oh, well," Doyle tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he couldn't deny the flush of pleasure he'd felt when Spike said he remembered Doyle. "I was just surprised. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Spike's nod was almost friendly. "A few decades. At least."

"More for me," Doyle said quietly.

Spike raised an eyebrow but let the remark go, asking, "Angel send you? He need help taking care of that pit of a city he's claimed?"

"Not Angel." Doyle stood up straight and was pleased to find his eyes level with Spike's. It was nice not to always have to be the shortest person in the room. Or on the street, as the case may be. "The Powers That Be," he finished dramatically.

Spike frowned in confusion. "The powers that be what?" He asked.

Doyle shrugged, smiling half-heartedly. "You know-- 'God,' 'Allah,' 'Zeus,' 'Odin...' Ahh, I don't actually know that many names for 'em. But you know. You do know, right?"

Spike folded his arms across his chest sceptically. "God. You're saying God sent you to find me." Doyle shifted from foot to foot, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. He really looked adorable in the rain, tiny and sweet, with those knowing eyes, eyes that had seen more than Spike, even with his century and a half of life, could guess at.

"They, ahh, they want you to work for 'em. You know, fight the good fight, put down injustice. Ahh, all that. They want you to be their warrior. It's a bit of an honour, really."

Spike smirked sadly. "Right. That's Angel's gig, why don't you look him up?"

"I did," Doyle answered immediately. "Why do you think they picked me for this job?"

"I'm not Angel," Spike said seriously.

Doyle looked the vampire up and down. Where the duster hung open, Spike's black jeans and button-down shirt clung wetly to his well-defined body. The shirt opened up to the slim neck, pronounced Adam's apple... Doyle licked his lips, his gaze curving over a soft jaw and folding into those perfect cheekbones before finally rising to meet curious eyes.

"No, you're... definitely not... Angel." Doyle felt his stomach knot up the way it used to back when he and Harry were first courting. He felt awkward and foolish, and asked, "Mind if we take this inside? The rain's lovely for the dramatic exposition scene, but I think drama could stand a break tonight."

Spike smiled, studying Doyle in a way the half-demon wasn't altogether comfortable with. "Yeah. My flat's just across the way," he said, gesturing. The two men turned to a nearby building with a crooked brick exterior that created the optical illusion the whole complex was tilting into the street.

---

Once inside, Spike tossed his sodden duster over a chair next to an ancient heater and wandered into the bedroom in the back, offering, "Make yourself comfortable."

Doyle surveyed the decor, which was spartan save for a very cushy armchair in the corner. He slumped into it, wishing he had a change of dry clothes. In front of the chair was an antique round-screen television with three different kinds of video game players hooked into it. A cord from one of the players came up to the armchair, and after squirming a bit, Doyle pulled out a controller he'd been sitting on.

Spike emerged from his bedroom barefoot, in a dry t-shirt and blue jeans. "So, where you from?" Spike asked, pouring himself dinner and grabbing a full whiskey bottle from the cabinet.

Doyle smiled at the sight of the liquor, and gladly took the bottle from Spike. "Heaven. Recently, anyway. Los Angeles before that."

"Yeah, guessed that from your accent," Spike snarked, gulping his blood.

Doyle giggled-- in a manly way. "I grew up in Ireland, haven't been back in ages."

Spike nodded. His eyes locked on Doyle's and the half-demon licked his lips self-consciously. They stared at each other for a full minute, want clearly transmitted in their gazes.

As an uncomfortable silence threatened to descend upon them, Spike cleared his throat. "So, heaven. I used to know a lady who'd been there. Imagine that's where she is now."

"Yeah?" Doyle sat up at that. "What's her name, maybe I knew her."

Spike finished his blood and left the mug on top of the TV. He moved to sit on the arm of Doyle's chair. Letting his hand brush deliberately over the Irishman's, Spike took the whiskey and drank a quarter of the bottle before handing it back to Doyle. "Buffy Summers," Spike said quietly.

"Oh." Doyle stared at the bottle in his hands before taking a long drink and passing it back to Spike. Doyle also managed to get in a gentle touch, soothing if it needed to be, against Spike's hand. "She was around, not the chatty type. But yeah, seen her about."

Spike smiled. "Really. Anyone else I'd know?"

Doyle tried to remember everything he could about this vampire. He shrugged. "Darla? The only vamp in heaven, and she hasn't even got a soul. Not the chatty type either, but I don't really mind that, I'm not afraid to admit."

Spike's lips parted as his jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. "Darla. In heaven. Fuck, I knew there was a reason I never wanted to go there."

Doyle smiled and made an effort to pull his eyes away from Spike's lips and get down to business. "Spike, about this working for the Powers thing. They wouldn't ask if they didn't think you were ready. And they need you. The forces of darkness are gathering strength, the Powers need warriors who can fight..."

"What's in it for you?" Spike interrupted, genuinely curious as to what the answer would be.

"What?" Doyle was surprised. This had been much easier with Angel, especially because there had been no sexual tension to wade through then.

Spike rolled his eyes fondly. "What's in it for you? As in, why do you care if I agree or not; you're already in heaven."

Doyle finished off the whiskey and carelessly dropped the bottle, wincing at the loud crack it made when it landed, though it didn't break. "Actually, you'll notice I'm most definitely *not* in heaven. And what's in it for me is that I get to go back there as soon as you agree to take the job."

"Oh." Spike thought about this for a moment, reluctant to acknowledge the implications of that statement. "So, you don't stick around to be my demon guide or whatnot?" Spike found himself staring at Doyle's lips, waiting for an answer, and maybe...

"Naw, this is purely a recruiting mission. Somebody else will come and 'guide' you once you agree." Doyle wanted to keep talking; Spike's eyes were locked on his lips, and the vampire seemed to be tilting in ever so slowly. Doyle didn't want to give Spike an excuse to pull away, so he leaned forward just as slowly, letting their lips meet gently.

A cool hand rose to clasp Doyle's neck as Spike slipped off the arm of the chair and into the Irishman's lap. Tongues met casually, lapping at inhuman mouths as the kiss continued. They seemed to still be moving towards each other, pressing harder against soft lips, deepening the kiss slowly.

Spike drew away too soon, remarking, "You're wet." He scowled at Doyle's lap, his brow knotting with a child's perplexity.

Doyle smiled, kissing Spike's chin before pointing out, "That's normally a line you'd give a woman."

Smirking, Spike stood, taking Doyle's hand to help him to his feet. "You didn't get laid too often, I take it? Can't see a lotta birds falling for that one."

Doyle let himself be led into the bedroom, "You know what I mean..." He trailed off when Spike ripped his damp shirt off in one smooth move. "Hey," Doyle exclaimed indignantly, "that was my favourite shirt..."

Spike silenced Doyle with another deep kiss, dropping the unfortunately hideous garment to the floor.

After much fumbling and dropping of clothes, a brief stumble over a large crossbow in the middle of the room, and some self-conscious laughter, the two men landed on the large bed in the corner.

Spike reluctantly pulled his lips away from Doyle's and moved teasingly down the dark-haired man's body to yank off Doyle's shoes and jeans from where they were tangled around his ankles.

Spike slowly made his way back up Doyle, eyeing the erection that bobbed before him. The half-demon reached under Spike's arms and hauled the vampire's mouth back to him, momentarily denying Spike the pleasure of tasting him.

They kissed awhile longer, naked bodies sliding lazily against each other until Doyle rolled them over. Spike scooted to the centre of the bed, and Doyle moved to straddle the vampire. The half-demon paused then, meeting Spike's amused glare.

The vampire folded his arms behind his head. "Kiss me again," he commanded, but his barely repressed grin was flirtatious.

Doyle leaned up and forward, letting Spike's cock drag along his perineum and tease across his hole, but his swollen lips, twitching into a smirk, remained far from Spike's reach. The vampire muffled a groan, closing his eyes and letting Doyle's warm body tantalize him briefly.

"Lube?" Doyle asked, out of breath after even their sleepy foreplay.

Spike's eyes opened slowly and the vampire twisted out from under Doyle, retrieving an unopened tube from his bedside drawer.

Doyle let himself sprawl next to Spike, every muscle relaxed. The dull ache in his cock was steadily growing more insistent, but he was in no rush.

Spike rolled back next to Doyle, admiring the body spread out before him. Spike propped himself on one elbow and bent the dark-haired man's leg to give himself better access. Spike coated one finger with the scentless lube and slid it inside Doyle easily.

Spike watched as the half-demon began slowly jerking himself off in rhythm with the thrusts of Spike's finger. The vampire added a second finger, and Doyle's head turned so they could kiss, movements still languid, matching the damp mood of the evening.

Soon, Spike removed his hand and coated his cock instead. He broke the kiss to turn Doyle on his side, and the dark-haired man pulled one leg to his chest so Spike could thrust smoothly into him.

"God, you're so warm. So... fucking... hot..." Spike moaned when he was as far inside Doyle as he could get at this angle.

Spike's thrusts were slow and measured, the vampire in no rush to reach orgasm. The hand he had crushed between them stroked Doyle's neck delicately, while Spike's other hand rested lightly on Doyle's hip.

The Irishman resumed masturbating, putting on a show for Spike, who watched over his shoulder.

Spike leaned forward to spread kisses over Doyle's shoulder, never taking his eyes off the throbbing erection in his partner's hand.

"Spike... more... please, more..." Doyle whispered.

The vampire responded by thrusting harder, and moving to cover Doyle's hand on his cock, the two men working together to bring Doyle off. Low groans and pleading whispers reverberated through the apartment as they moved against each other. Spike pressed his face into the crook of Doyle's shoulder, and the half-demon felt the muscles of Spike's brow shift as he went in and out of gameface.

Doyle arched back onto the cock pumping into him, "Yes, Spike, come, God, come now, coming..." Hot wet fluid spread over both their hands as Doyle shuddered in Spike's arms.

The vampire continued thrusting, revelling in Doyle's tightness before his body finally relented and Spike orgasmed too.

"Doyle..." he murmured into the other man's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the Irishman.

Doyle turned in Spike's grip, kissing the sleepy vampire for a few sweet seconds. "What do you say to my offer, hmm?" Doyle's voice sounded deep and satiated, and Spike responded by rumbling tiredly. "Hmm?" Doyle nudged the vampire before he had the chance to pass out.

Spike tightened his grip on the warm body in his bed. "What's the rush?" He asked without opening his eyes, "You got somewhere better to be?" He smirked and kissed Doyle, letting his lips still against the other man's.

"Spike..." Doyle cajoled.

The rumble from the vampire was a little less pleased this time, but he acquiesced. "Yeah, yeah. I'll fight your demons. Now go to sleep."

Satisfied, Doyle snuggled into Spike, and the vampire was soon unconscious.

"Good luck with that," Doyle whispered, gently removing himself from Spike's arms as soon as he was sure he could leave undisturbed.

He picked up his still-damp jeans and fought to get them back on, leaving his wet underwear on the floor. Doyle threw on his shoes and Spike's t-shirt and turned to go.

At the last moment he noticed the desk in the corner and decided to scribble a quick note to the vampire. He found a stack of printer paper and picked up the top piece. Doyle had to pause and grin over Spike's pen holder-- a yellow rubber duck bath toy that had been impaled by a number of disposable ball-point pens. The half-demon smiled to himself as he pulled a pen out of the duck's neck and wrote quickly, "Happy Hunting -D" He folded the paper so it would stand up on Spike's desk and quietly made his way out of the apartment.

All in all, not a horrendous trip to earth. Doyle had had a taste of everything he missed in heaven; drink, gambling, sex. And best of all, the trip had been *short*.

He stepped out into the dawn-lit street, smiling at the clearing sky. He was going back to heaven.

The loud screech of tires didn't even wake Spike up as an early morning commuter slammed into the man standing in the middle of the road.

~Fin~

The Challenge:

1) Must be set in S3 "Angel"/S6 "Buffy".
2) Dark or angst fic, if possible... if not, humour is okay, fluff is not.
3) Doyle/Spike, obviously...whatever other pairing you want to throw in is fine, but they should be the centre.
4) The word 'ubiquitous'.

If a dark/angst fic, please include at least one of each of the following:

1) A rubber ducky. (I've always wanted to see someone work one into a dark/angst fic)
2) Sex, or implied sex, with NO biting. (Have you ever noticed that it's apparently impossible for a vamp to make it in fic without biting their partner?)
3) An appearance by Darla. (Not required, but would be appreciated)
E.S