Fanfic: A 10 Letter Word Beginning With 'M' (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: A 10 Letter Word Beginning With 'M'
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: The Initiative.
Summary: Spike. Angel. A kitchen.
Word Count: 1534
Date First Posted: -
Date Revised - 10-10-2011
Beta: -
Awards: -
Notes: Written as part of my old A/S website Eternal Nightcap's x writing challenge. Oldfic is oh so old.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

 

"Buying bread from a man in Brussels.."

Spike sang loudly and off-key as he padded around Angel's kitchen clad only in socks. The blond vampire closed a cupboard with his hip, bringing forth chocolate chips, nuts, and tiny pink wafers.

 

"..he was six foot four, and full of muscles.."

An almost empty container of vanilla ice cream joined the pile of sweets on the table. The microwave whirred happily in the background.

Whipped cream, sugar, spoon.

 

"..I said do you speak-a my language.."

Sprinkles, skittles, chocolate sauce. All lined up in a row on the kitchen table. It rocked precariously and Spike steadied it, grinning; his own little way of fucking Angel over without him even knowing.

Each week Spike took a hacksaw and sawed a millimetre off one of the legs. Angel was such an anal pillock... each time his sire sat down at it, he gripped it with those two large hands, rocking it, and that stupid frown appeared on that stupid caveman brow, wondering why it was rocking. By the end of the week he'd forgotten about it, and by the beginning of the next week it was always slightly worse. Spike knew the dark-haired vampire suspected his involvement, but couldn't prove a thing.

Just how he liked it.

 

"...he just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich.."

The blond slid over to a cabinet and pulled out a large bowl, still singing remarkably out-of-tune.

 

"..and he said.. I come from a land downunder...where women blow-"

"Spike!" came an annoyed voice from the next room.

"I like the sound of that..." the vampire muttered to himself before answering in an equally irate voice of his own, "What?"

Angel appeared at the door, a thick book in his hand. He gave Spike's naked body a quick glance up and down, losing his frown for a moment, before meeting the blond's eyes again. As if remembering why he was there in the first place, the dark-haired vampire scowled again.

"Settle down, Angel-puss. Your cheeks are all red and flushed, and you're panting. You look an awful lot like this never-released Betty Boop cartoon that was produced during wartime... y'see, ol' Betty had gone to a bar one night and all these sailors took her out the back and-"

"You cheated."

"Yeah, probably. When in particular?"

Angel glared at him accusingly. "It's not really a word."

Spike rolled his eyes. "We're not going over this again...are we?"

"I have a dictionary and a thesaurus here..." he paused for dramatic effect, shaking the book in his childe's direction, "and it's in neither!"

"Well slit me gut and call me Skippy..." Spike mumbled, still feeling in a rather Australian mood after having his song interrupted.

"This is not amusing, Spike," Angel remarked to a clearly amused vampire, "You blatantly lied to me, I lost critical ground and spoiled my unblemished record!"

The blond shrugged. "Sorry Angelus... if I knew you were going to go this postal over a game of Scrabble.. I would have beaten you months ago."

Angel continued, unfazed. "In no book is there any mention of the word 'knobjockey'!"

"Did you look in the thesaurus, too?"

"Yes,"

"Did you look under 'Angel'?"

The dark haired vampire snarled. The hand with the book raised to slam it down on the table.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Angel, angry at Spike having cheated his triple word score propelled the heavy book down towards the table. Spike blinked once, twice, three times before realising what the force of the blow would do to his sundae ingredients.

"Noooooooooo--" he screamed, and took a step forward; but it was too late. The book landed on the edge of an otherwise stable table (unless one of the legs happened to have been hacksawed away in little pieces every Thursday evening), overbalanced and went crashing to the ground. Sprinkles, skittles and various other foodstuffs flew onto the floor, irretrievably lost. Melting icecream became a milky white pool which began to slowly spread.

The blond vampire was not able to halt his valiant effort to stop the table tipping over so quickly. His sock-clad feet skidded right into the fast-growing puddle of dairy product. Those same sock-clad feet flew up into the air as he slipped and landed fair on his ass in the middle of a pile of melting chocolate, cream, wafers, icecream and nuts. Angel stood, shock imprinted on his face, hand still outstretched where he had let go of the book.

Spike groaned and rubbed his head where it had smacked into the edge of the fridge. "What else can go wrong?" he grumbled.

Murphy is, if nothing else, a very obliging man.

A muffled, wet explosion sounded as the bloodbag which had been heating up merrily in the microwave (as a topping), merrily burst its seams and coated the inside walls of the appliance.

Spike yelled at the ceiling. "Thankyou! Thankyou! Fuck you!" he added, watching Angel's shock turn into a smirk, which dissolved into chuckles.

"That was really graceful, Spike."

"You want grace, pussy? Go to the bloody ballet."

"For someone with preternatural speed and reflexes, you're not doing too well are you?"

Spike licked some cream off his finger sadly. "At this point, Sigourney Weaver could kick my arse."

"At this point, Michael Flatley could kick your ass."

"In Riverdance, no-one can hear you scream," Spike smirked. He used Angel's proffered hand and lifted himself up off the floor. Turning his back on his sire, the blond opened the fridge straight away and studied the contents.

"What are you after now?"

"Food, arright?" Spike answered testily.

"You don't need to eat."

"Well tell that to me bloody stomach 'cuz I'm fuckin' hungry!"

"Okay, okay," Angel conceded, not wanting to get into a fight. His childe's eyes widened and he reached forward, pulling a pair of extra, extra, extra large men's white Y-fronts (seemingly marked with different colours, writing and a large lipstick mark on the gusset) and turned towards his sire.

"What. Is. This?" Angel put his hands up in an innocent gesture.

"Hey, I'm the one in this apartment building that doesn't eat and has nothing to do with the fridge, remember?"

Spike grew thoughtful. Then a rather wicked thought dawned about the same time as it occurred to Angel. Sire and childe looked at each other, and Spike's face split into a salacious grin.

"Wesley you dog...." he chuckled, throwing the Y-fronts over his shoulder towards Angel before sticking his head back into the fridge. Angel neatly sidestepped the flying underwear.

The blond emerged with a small plastic container of yoghurt. He studied it warily before peeling back the foil lid, closing his eyes and taking a mouthful.

"Spike," Angel ventured, "You do realise that's yoghurt, right?"

"Yeah," the younger vampire answered after swallowing another mouthful. "S'not so bad if you imagine it's the curdling blood of your enemies." He took another mouthful and swished it around before swallowing. "Needs a bit more iron, though." Angel shuddered as Spike finished the container and threw it on the ground.

The dark-haired vampire rocked on his heels, finally properly taking in his childe's lithe, naked body leaning casually against the bench. Angel swallowed manically.

"So...." Spike's husky voice trailed off. "What can we do now?" He was hoping Angel wasn't going to say 'clean the floor'. He wanted to be on his hands and knees, but that was just ridiculous.

Angel walked around the upturned table to Spike and languidly licked ran his tongue up the blond's arm, collecting sprinkles and cream on the way. He surveyed the mess of foodstuffs on the floor. "I think you cleaned out what little food I had... what else is there to play with now?"

Spike grinned lecherously and pulled a small jar out of the fridge, effectively emptying it once and for all. He held the label up so his sire could read it. The dark-haired vampire grinned at his childe's emphatically nodding head and dragged him into the bedroom.

*****

 

The next day...

"Angel, can you explain the meaning of this to me?" Cordelia waved a piece of paper at her employer. The dark haired vampire began to talk patiently.

"Cordelia... you look for the name at the top of the letterhead, then you take the first letter of their company name and go to the filing cabinet and-"

"I know how to file, Dead One! What am I supposed to do about this shopping list?" Angel's brow furrowed and he took the page off his secretary, but he promptly burst into laughter, even as stolen blood suffused his pale cheeks ever so slightly.

The ex-cheerleader's list of office supplies on the notepaper including paperclips, a new lock for the petty cash tin and a new printer ribbon looked fairly mundane.

Except for the crudely drawn stick-figures in blatantly sexual poses next to one word written in thick black texta in a familiar, angular script. Angel handed the list to Cordelia and trotted off downstairs while the brunet was left wondering at the comedic value of the new addition to their shopping list; mayonnaise.

~finis