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smokingmirrorSeries: Days Of Our Unlives
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: -
Summary: In an attempt to engender Angel Investigations with the spirit of Christmans, Spike brings home a... surprise.
Word Count: 2525
Date First Posted: 2000
Date Revised - 13-05-2011
Beta: Kita
Awards: Best Series - Slashfan's Choice Awards
Notes: Alternating Spike and Angel POV. As part of 'A Very DOOUL Christmas', Kita and Jess, the amazing authors of DOOUL asked a bunch of other A/S authors to contribute to their most awesome series. Each section was named after a well-known carol, and I picked this one. It was so much fun to write, and challenging to make sure my style matched the style of the series in general (i had to arc up the funny, I think they're funnier than me :D) It was a thrill to be asked to participate (Kita being my long-time talented beta of any Buffy or Angel fic), and equally thrilling to receive a little toy surprise from them when DOOUL took out 'best series' that year in the SFCA. If you're reading this and you've somehow never read DOOUL, follow the link at the top of this page, and laugh yourself sick. You will not be sorry.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also archived at: DOOUL
You'd think there'd be a lot of noise here at night. Screams, howls, chatters... but no, not really. It's real quiet. They're all sleeping or something. I stealthily sneak along, footfalls not making a sound on the cobbled pavement.
I love this covert shit.
This is just the reason I didn't bring the Ponce of Europe along.
Well, that and he'd fucking beat me senseless for what I wanna do.
Y'see, that's the problem with me old sire... he doesn't know how to live in the moment. He's all 'woe is me, I'm such a bad person'. Well, newsflash y' big oaf, you're not a person, you're a vampire.
Well, try telling him that without it developing into a screaming match which ends in me getting fucked so hard into the floorboards I leave an indentation.
Uhmm... what was I talking about again? That image tends to kinda wipe my memory of anything else....
Oh yeah. He just doesn't understand the need for fun, because all the real fun he can remember having involved him ripping the throats out of pretty young things.
Well, that and anything associated with me and nakedness.
I duck behind a building as a flashlight beam sweeps past. It touches my boots, and the guard walks right past me, about two feet away.
Oh yeah, I'm good.
He's getting better, mind you -- all thanks to me of course -- but especially around Christmas lapses back into this uber-obsessive compulsive thing... it's painful to watch. He's so highly strung. Everything's gotta be perfect, and I can't really do anything right. Hell, shoulda seen the look I got when I mentioned how much I'd love it to snow at Christmas like England...
Point is, he's no fun. He loses any semblance of relaxation he's got, and turns into the fascist vampire of the holiday season.
But I, in my infinite wisdom and good will, have decided to get him out of this bloody mood.
I will give him cause to shout and dance about.
He needs something fun, spontaneous and purely Spike-like.
That is why I'm back here.
That's why I've come back to the zoo.
*~*~*~*~*
I hear the commotion outside, and run to see what it's all about, but I can already guess though. And the one thought that is coherent enough for me to pick up on is that I can't believe how fucking stupid I am.
I knew something was up when Spike bailed me up in the kitchen, being unusually affectionate... kissing and licking at my lips, sliding his hands down my back to grab my ass.
I should've been more aware of what his intentions where when he called me 'Angel' rather than 'wanker'.
It should have dawned on me he was up to something when he took my trousers off and (almost) carefully threw them on a table instead of the floor.
Something should have clicked when he didn't make fun of my half-choked moans and general sounds of pleasure.
Dear gods, I should have realised he was up to something when he fucking swallowed.
But no, I gave him something far more useful than eternal life.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
And when I woke up, he was gone.
My shoes skid on the parquetry, making a mark that I'll be really pissed off about later, but for some reason isn't that important to me now. I scan the room, but I can't miss the horrified looks on both my employees faces, nor the cheerful one on the face of my childe... and that.. thing... he's brought with him...
One thought... just one thought in my brain.
I'm so fucking stupid.
*~*~*~*~*
The arachnid enclosure is quiet at the moment. I notice that there's some more bars up on the door that weren't there last time. Crybabies. Just because a few endangered and incredibly expensive spiders found their way into the piranha pond... no-one has a bloody sense of humour anymore.
Besides, there is no way I'd pay a couple of grand for a fucking insect.
I stop in front of the monkey cage and watch two of the little buggers go at it for a while. See, now they have the right idea. What a life... Shagging, eating, causing trouble, hurling their shit at humans... if I wasn't a vampire, I think I'd like to be a monkey.
I give 'em the thumbs up and continue to the cage I'm looking for.
Aaannnd... found it.
The door has a padlock on it. Tsk tsk. Some people just can't be trusted. I remove a small piece of wire from my duster pocket.
I just happen to be one of them.
The lock gives way, and I enter the cage, to be confronted by half a dozen of the beasts. They're nervous and paw at the ground. Fuck they have big horns. I pick one that doesn't look too likely to turn me into a vampire steak and close in for the kill... or capture, so to speak.
I can see the whites of its eyes, but I have no fear. Closing in on it, I allow myself a nasty chuckle. This is gonna be great.
Then, when I'm about three feet away from it, arms outstretched to grab it... it makes a noise.
And not just any noise. This. Is. A. Noise.
Fuck.
*~*~*~*~*
There's this very pregnant pause as Cordelia tries to come to grips with the smell. Wesley just takes his glasses off and kind of squints at Spike, at the animal, at me, and at Spike again. I just know every time he glances at me, he has that statement on his face. The one that says 'you realise that this is all your fault.'
Can't say I blame him, really. I'm giving Spike the same look.
For his part, he's started an obnoxious yodeled version of 'Deck the Halls'... something about gasoline and matches. I don't care. I just want that animal off my floor and out of my office before it--
Oh shit.
Literally.
Why can animals never hold their bowels?
Spike smiles sweetly and blows me a kiss.
Cordelia gives me the 'this is my notice -- I quit' look. Wesley gives me the 'what are you going to do now?' look. I can't even bear to meet their eyes, but I know what I'm going to do.
I'm going to kill him.
Again.
*~*~*~*~*
"Come on... stupid fucking... arrghh!" I growl at it as I yank on the rope around its neck. It doesn't budge for about five minutes, but this big, stinky, living animal is not going to get the best of me.
I'm William the Bloody, companion to the Scourge of the British Isles and some Eastern Block countries that don't exist any more.
I can handle this.
I am in control.
It starts to move, and I give myself a mental cheer.
No reindeer's gonna get the best of me.
*~*~*~*~*
A reindeer.
He brought -- no, stole -- a reindeer and brought it home with him.
A reindeer who has not only crapped on the newly-polished floor, but is now eating my decorations.
There's a little sob building in my throat, but I refuse to let it out.
"Jeffrey!" Spike scolds, batting the animal on the nose. "I told ya... don't go for that pansy-ass green shit. Go for the good stuff..." He leads it by the rope over to my new batch of eggnog (which he is forbidden to touch) and coaxes it to drink.
This is all I need. A fucking drunk reindeer with no control of its bodily functions.
Stake me.
*~*~*~*~*
"Let me get this straight..." Angel says agonisingly slowly. I cock my head to the side and feign sincerity. "You steal a reindeer and bring it here, where it proceeds to sh-" he stops himself from cussing in front the wuss and the drama queen. I withhold the smirk, it'll piss him off more if he thinks I'm taking him seriously. "-evacuate the contents of its lower intestines all over my floor... "
Oh hell, I really have to fight the smirk down on that one.
"....then you encourage it to start getting drunk? Does that about sum up everything you've accomplished tonight?"
"Ah, you forget -- I also named him 'Jeffrey'," I grin smugly.
Angel just stares at me. He spares his lackeys a glance, which tells them in no uncertain terms he'd like some special 'alone time' with yours truly, before returning his gaze to me.
I reckon Angelus is this far from the surface.
Ah well, at least he's loosening up.
*~*~*~*~*
I think I'm developing a nervous twitch. Either that, or I could be losing my mind. I'm not sure what's happening any more.
I live in a constant state of exasperation around Spike. It's like existing with the sound of fingernails perpetually running down a chalkboard in your ears. Even when we're fucking it's there... it's always there.
I only wish I was feeling that at the moment. I'm a little past exasperated right now. More like... oh... murderous. Yeah, that's a good word... unstable is another.
I wonder if I can get him to clean up the pile of reindeer shit on my floor before I twist his insolent fucking head off?
*~*~*~*~*
I wonder if Angel's mad at me...
*~*~*~*~*
I'm ready to, I really am. I'm all ready to do something incredibly nasty to him that will leave him crippled for weeks... that's if he even survives... and I see it.
It's hidden, but I see it.
Underneath all of that natural desire to want to fuck with my mindspace and control, it's there. That small part of him that genuinely wants me to loosen up, wants me to relax and not be such an insufferable pouf, as he might call me... The part that really wants me to enjoy myself. The part of him that laces his fingers with mine when he's sure no one else is around. The part of him that sighs my name as my lips travel down his throat.
The part of him that wants me to smile.
And I can't fight that. Well, I can't fight and win, at any rate.
*~*~*~*~*
He sighs and I see all the anger kind of just evaporate. Didn't think I'd get off that lightly, though. I do tend to put the poor bugger through a lot. Sometimes I've heard him mutter that it was easier taking it up the arse in Hell, because he didn't have to put up with the consequences there.
But, never look a gift reindeer in the mouth...
"I just want you to let go a bit, Angelus," I say quietly, with the appropriate amount of neediness and vulnerability in my voice to make my sire crumble.
I know how to play the game.
"Have you noticed previous times when I've let go? Does a dead computer science teacher and a severely traumatised actress ring any bells?"
"I thought you were remarkably restrained, actually," he does that little sigh thing, when he looks as if he doesn't know whether to take me over his knee, or take me over his knee. Whatever, as long as he doesn't notice that Jeffrey is currently devouring the branches of our third tree. "Just trying to get you into the spirit of mayhem..."
"You mean Christmas."
I shrug. "Whatever works."
Jeffrey begins to paw at the ground and snort air through his nostrils.
I wonder what would happen if he charged...
*~*~*~*~*
I'm encouraging him, I know. But Spike is the only person in this or any other life that I can be so angry at one minute, and all he has to do is look at me a certain way.... and I've forgotten my name.
He's doing a good job of that at the moment, a small smile curving his lips, eyes lowered, looking up through dark lashes. Hell, even the way he's stroking Jeffrey's rope is damn arousing.
I back up a bit to lean against the doorjamb, glancing heavenwards, hoping that the Powers will give me a vision telling me what to do with him. And the reindeer. Spike has begun to almost stalk me with Jeffrey in tow, this hungry look on his face.
I see something dangling from the top of the frame. It's mistletoe. The same sprig that he tied on my... on my...
I know he sees it too. A sly grin curls his mouth and he comes to stand in front of me. I smile a bit. It's completely the wrong thing to do, I should be mad at him. I should be trying to find out how to get this goddamn animal out of here without being arrested for theft. I should be slapping that sexy smile off his face with... with... my mouth?
He leans in close, coming up under my chin and exhales deliberately, his damp breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"You know where you are, doncha Peaches?"
"I know," I reply, my voice soft and not fucking angry enough. I lean back a bit, trying to escape his sphere of influence. I already can't remember my name.
"You do know what y'gotta do under this, doncha?" he asks, as if talking to a four year old. A sexy four year old.
"I do," I reply, taking a small step back. He responds by taking one forward, pulling on the rope on the way.
Perfect.
"I hope Jeffrey's a good kisser," I comment. Spike gives me an odd look, before glancing up to the doorjamb. He and that stupid animal are standing right underneath the sprig of green. He frowns. I grin.
"You don't think I'm gonna-"
"You want me to get into the spirit of things a bit... you have to follow the rules." I point to the mistletoe with a resolute statement on my face. Yes, this will be far more satisfying than smacking his head into the wall...
"You're not serious."
He thinks I'm bluffing.
I give him my patented 'Angelus is two seconds from tearing you a new one if you don't do as I say right now' face.
He doesn't think I'm bluffing any more.
"You want me to snog a reindeer?"
"No tongues, though. He's not that kind of quadruped."
"Oh bugger off." I smile again and fold my arms. He tries to wait me out, to see if I'll change my mind.
Jeffrey shat on my clean floors.
Not. Fucking. Likely.
Spike grimaces and after a long moment's hesitation, leans down, giving Jeffrey a peck on his snout. Jeffrey makes whatever kind of noises deer make when they're half-tanked, and promptly regurgitates some egg nog onto Spike's boots.
"I'm pretty sure he likes you," I whisper conspiratorially. He howls in disgust and mutters something about venison and swift and just retribution, but I'm too satisfied to care.
"Merry Christmas, Spike," I smile.
"Fuck you, Angel."
All in good time, boy.
~finis
