Holiday ficlets: 15
Tonight's ficlet is for the divine rebcake, who asked for Angel the Series, Spike & Lorne, fake relationship. It's 500 words, vague sex references, sorta teen. I'm not gonna lie, this doesn't quite come off, but I've been poking at it too long, so it's time to post and hope it at least makes a couple of you snicker. Sorry, my dear, I will try to give you a better present next year!
"Look, mate, it's not you," said Spike, and he almost meant it. The green demon had his good points, and they were many, so long as you weren't trying to kip in the employee break room when he came yammering in on the blower to one of his fancy clients. And Spike, being a demon of long standing, had definitely had worse. That whole phase during the Depression when Dru was bored and decided to experiment with exotic tableaux. Sometimes, he still dreamed of that lot. Not in a good way.
"Sugar-cakes," said Lorne, "I know it's not me. (It would never be me.) This whole situation is making you downright uneasy, and that's spilling over into your relationship vibe."
"This is not a relationship," Spike responded. A little quickly, he noted. Sign of weakness, dammit. "This is a necessary evil."
"Hey, hey," Lorne held up his hands. "Don't use the E word. Not in here. Who knows what kind of detectors they have set up."
"What? You reckon the Senior Partners are bugging the office to check in everyone's talking about dark deeds in approved company lingo? You're an odd duck, Lorne." He sighed, for effect. "Nope, it's not the situation. We've gotta keep these guys under surveillance, and having you hanging on my every word is handy that way." He paused, noting where Lorne's hands were straying. He'd really been putting his back into the pretence, no wonder he was wondering why Spike baulked at this one thing.
"It's just," said Spike, reluctantly. "I heard tell where your brain's in your arse, yeah?"
"Yes," he got back, very cheerfully. "And a good thing too, or I'd be deader than- Well, you, if that's not a tactless point to be making." Spike shrugged it off. If he minded being dead, he’d… well, kill himself, though now he came to think about it, that didn’t sound all that sensible. But it wasn’t the point.
“No, mate, you misunderstand my issue. I just- if your brain’s in your arse, how exactly do I know what your tongue really does?”
Lorne sighed heavily. Spike almost considered apologising, for offending Pylean sensibilities or something. Till Lorne tilted his head up and grinned a grin of pure tease, “Oh honey, bless you for thinking that way. And dammit, I haven’t had a good tonguing in years.”
Spike considered. "That mean what I suspect it means?"
"Probably," said Lorne, verging on the coy.
"Fair enough," said Spike. "So long as I know. And you'll buy me a drink after?"
It wasn’t easy to shock Lorne, but Spike seemed to have managed it. Or at least, his mouth was hanging open, exposing what Spike was determinedly going to refer to as his tongue for the duration of this stupid gig.
Still, he’d had worse.
*
"Look, mate, it's not you," said Spike, and he almost meant it. The green demon had his good points, and they were many, so long as you weren't trying to kip in the employee break room when he came yammering in on the blower to one of his fancy clients. And Spike, being a demon of long standing, had definitely had worse. That whole phase during the Depression when Dru was bored and decided to experiment with exotic tableaux. Sometimes, he still dreamed of that lot. Not in a good way.
"Sugar-cakes," said Lorne, "I know it's not me. (It would never be me.) This whole situation is making you downright uneasy, and that's spilling over into your relationship vibe."
"This is not a relationship," Spike responded. A little quickly, he noted. Sign of weakness, dammit. "This is a necessary evil."
"Hey, hey," Lorne held up his hands. "Don't use the E word. Not in here. Who knows what kind of detectors they have set up."
"What? You reckon the Senior Partners are bugging the office to check in everyone's talking about dark deeds in approved company lingo? You're an odd duck, Lorne." He sighed, for effect. "Nope, it's not the situation. We've gotta keep these guys under surveillance, and having you hanging on my every word is handy that way." He paused, noting where Lorne's hands were straying. He'd really been putting his back into the pretence, no wonder he was wondering why Spike baulked at this one thing.
"It's just," said Spike, reluctantly. "I heard tell where your brain's in your arse, yeah?"
"Yes," he got back, very cheerfully. "And a good thing too, or I'd be deader than- Well, you, if that's not a tactless point to be making." Spike shrugged it off. If he minded being dead, he’d… well, kill himself, though now he came to think about it, that didn’t sound all that sensible. But it wasn’t the point.
“No, mate, you misunderstand my issue. I just- if your brain’s in your arse, how exactly do I know what your tongue really does?”
Lorne sighed heavily. Spike almost considered apologising, for offending Pylean sensibilities or something. Till Lorne tilted his head up and grinned a grin of pure tease, “Oh honey, bless you for thinking that way. And dammit, I haven’t had a good tonguing in years.”
Spike considered. "That mean what I suspect it means?"
"Probably," said Lorne, verging on the coy.
"Fair enough," said Spike. "So long as I know. And you'll buy me a drink after?"
It wasn’t easy to shock Lorne, but Spike seemed to have managed it. Or at least, his mouth was hanging open, exposing what Spike was determinedly going to refer to as his tongue for the duration of this stupid gig.
Still, he’d had worse.
*