Fanfic: Helping Hand (The Odd Couple Series 2/7)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Helping Hand
Series: The Odd Couple 2/7
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: -
Summary: Spike lends a hand to Angel, who clearly didn't ask for it.
Word Count: 883
Date First Posted: 2000
Date Revised - 12-05-2011
Beta: -
Awards: -
Notes: More of The Silly.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

(Angel stalks into the kitchen angrily where Spike is sitting at the table, mug of blood in hand)

ANGEL: (hisses) I'm going to hurt you.

SPIKE: (looks mildly innocent) Pardon?

ANGEL: You'll be begging for it...

SPIKE: Oooh very glowery. I like it, pet.

ANGEL: Just try me.

SPIKE: I have. Cold with a slightly salty aftertaste. (grins)

ANGEL: (exasperated) You're impossible.

SPIKE: Thank you.

ANGEL: I'm still going to hurt you.

SPIKE: I was doing you a favour.

ANGEL: How, Spike? How were you possibly doing me a favour?

SPIKE: I was helping you out of the interior decorator rut you're in.

ANGEL: (incredulously) Help?!

SPIKE: Look at this place! No wonder mortals have the wrong idea about vampires... it's so... so..

ANGEL: ..what?

SPIKE: Boring! That's the word I'm searching for.

ANGEL: I like it like this.

SPIKE: Boring.

ANGEL: And you're Mr Excitement?

SPIKE: Have more of an unlife than you, mate. And as it happens, more fashion sense in my friggin' fangs than you do.

ANGEL: So that's why you-

SPIKE: Angelus, you need some drastic image counseling. What you've got just isn't right for you.

ANGEL: Since when?

SPIKE: Since always.

ANGEL: (pause) I'm still going to hurt you. (Walks closer to Spike, who becomes decidedly more fidgety)

SPIKE: Now come on, mate. I was helping.

ANGEL: Helping? (slightly hysterical) Helping?!

SPIKE: Snap out of it, Peaches. That vein on your forehead is throbbing again.

ANGEL: (angry glare) I wonder why...

SPIKE: (leans back in the chair) Too much stress in your life.

ANGEL: (growls) Again -- I wonder why...

SPIKE: I should think you would be happy. I'm actually bloody well trying to help you out.

ANGEL: And how did half my wardrobe end up in a bag labeled 'Poor gits'?

SPIKE: You have too many clothes, Angelus. Thought you could stand to get rid of some. For the less fortunate and all.

ANGEL: (yelling) They're very expensive!

SPIKE: Hey, aren't you supposed to be helping the hopeless, or some garbage? How can you afford them?

ANGEL: I work -- a concept you don't seem to be familiar with.

SPIKE: (indignantly) I've worked!

ANGEL: When?

SPIKE: Well I-

ANGEL: Liar.

SPIKE: You didn't even give me a chance to finish!

ANGEL: Would it have made a difference?

SPIKE: (pouts sullenly) I have worked...

ANGEL: When?

SPIKE: (frowns) ..er...um...ah...ahh! Before you turned me. I was workin' then... (smug smile)

ANGEL: You were a pickpocket who prostituted himself to his intended victims. You fucked and robbed the dumb ones, and killed the smart ones so they couldn't turn you in.

SPIKE: Regular income... job benefits... shagging the vict- employees... still employment, isn't it?

ANGEL: I'd love to see your resume.

SPIKE: It's in your filing cabinet.

ANGEL: (pause) It is?

SPIKE: (grin) Yeah. The cheerleader put it under Bad, Big.

ANGEL: (scowls again) Stop trying to distract me. Why did I find my sheets wrapped around a pole on the roof?

SPIKE: It's your new flag. Sort of announces to LA: 'Hey! Nancyboy Lives Here!'

ANGEL: (growls menacingly) They. Are. My. Favourite. Sheets.

SPIKE: (equally firm) They. Are. Hideous. Angelus, when in your very long existence did you think that that hippy paisley sperm pattern was ever going to look good?

ANGEL: (teeth clenched tightly together) Let's start with something simpler, shall we?

SPIKE: Shoot.

ANGEL: Why is my bottle of hair gel empty?

SPIKE: Well I used it.

ANGEL: For. What?

SPIKE: I was using it to try and glue your little ceramic horsey back together. Figured if it was strong enough to hold your hair, it had to have magical sticking properties.

ANGEL: (whimper) It's broken?

SPIKE: Yeah. (crosses his legs and picks at the rubber sole of his boot) Got knocked off the pedestal with the broom.

ANGEL: You had the broom.

SPIKE: Uh-huh. Trying to help you and sweep the sugar off the floor.

ANGEL: Sugar.

SPIKE: I sorta dropped my sugar-puff sandwiches and the contents went pretty much everywhere. (chuckles) The floor may be gritty for quite a while...

ANGEL: (sucks in a ragged gasp) My hardwood floors are now coated in sugar..?

SPIKE: Not coated... just... covered. A bit. I got most of it off your records.

ANGEL: (in a small voice) Not my records...

SPIKE: I was just having a look-see while having a snack... you need to update your collection seriously...

ANGEL: (unnaturally calm) My Vivaldi?

SPIKE: The cover shouldn't stay sticky for long... and the blood should come right off. I'll see what I can do about those eensy scratches, too.

ANGEL: Blood. And a s-scratch.

SPIKE: Plural, pet -- scratches. You just can't eat sugar-puff sandwiches without having something to wash them down with. It's unheard of.

ANGEL: Spike?

SPIKE: Yes, luv?

ANGEL: 10.

SPIKE: Oh come on.

ANGEL: 9.

SPIKE: I'm helping!

ANGEL: 8.

SPIKE: You're just in a bad mood.

ANGEL: 7.

SPIKE: Okay, so I had an accident.

ANGEL: 6.

SPIKE: Okay, maybe more than one.

ANGEL: 5.

SPIKE: (gets out of his chair and backs away) I didn't mean to...

ANGEL: 4.

SPIKE: Come on, mate. I was doing you a favour.

ANGEL: 3.

SPIKE: You're ungrateful, that's your problem..

ANGEL: 2.

SPIKE: (panicked) Er... I'm sorry?

ANGEL: 1.

SPIKE: Angel? Oh fuck, ANG--

~finis