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Tweak says, "Tweak does it better"

John Philip "Jack" McFarland (i_amjustjack) wrote in we_coexist,
@ 2008-02-13 19:27:00

Entry tags:

jack mcfarland, spike, zz:status complete

Heya Neighbor [tag: Spike]
This was probably the strangest thing that had ever happened to Jack McFarland in the history of... ever. One minute, New York City and the next... wherever the hell he was. He had left his mansion (his, he earned it fair and square by spending some of Beverly's inheritance), left Karen and Rosario, only to do a little hottie hunting when the worst of all things happened.

Lesbians. Kissing.

As in all over each other. Hands on boobies and tongues and...

Jack immediately stopped his moment of remembrance to choke back a retch. Gross... lesbians. He hated them, despised them. If God had wanted women to have sex, he would have given them penises.

He had taken a wrong turn away from the disgusting duo, down and alley and suddenly... no mansion. No Karen, no Rosario and no way home. What in gay hell had just happened to him? At least he was able to get what he needed: an apartment, clothes, food, decor that didn't belong in the dumpster behind K-mart. While the idea of maybe not seeing Karen again was depressing, that wasn't going to keep Jack down for long. There was a certain freedom to being all alone in an apartment again. Not nearly as fabulous as the mansion (tshaw, like it could ever be), but it was his.

Which of course meant that the stereo was on as loud as it would go and Cher was on constant repeat.

"No matter how hard I try... You keep pushing me aside and I cant break through... Theres no talking to you"

He danced, he sang, he did a somersault on his couch landing perfectly on his feet in the center of the living room and above all else - he had a turkey baster for a microphone. Jack didn't know a turkey baster was, but it looked like it was used for inseminating lesbians. Again, gross... but it was a great microphone and he needed on.

"Its so sad that you're leaving, It takes time to believe it. But after all said and done, you're gonna be the lonely one, ohhh.. DO YOU BELIEVE IN LIFE AFTER LOVE.."

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i_wannadance
2008-02-15 08:04 pm UTC (link)

"Cher?"

Both eyebrows raised and Spike started to laugh. A big-throated, malevolent sounding laugh. This was hell. The voices had stopped, yeah, or at least quieted to a manageable roar, but this was hell. This was a circle of it that Dante bloke hadn't gotten around to writing up.

Did you have a point?

"Yeah."

Spike crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw, looking the guy over before saying anything else.

"Stop it."

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-17 08:19 pm UTC (link)

Stop it? Mr. I'm-Too-Cool-For-Lowlights wanted Jack to stop listening to Cher at his more than reasonable volume? Honestly, that platinum look only worked on women and even then, it died with Madonna's career. Since most of anything after Material Girl didn't count as a career. “I think not. Let me explain something to you, Mr. Idol.” Jack's hands opened widely in front of him, fingers extended into proper jazz hand position for emphasis.

“Cher, is god and I am her most devoted preacher. You do not de-preach a preacher of the good faith of Cher. Are you smelling what you've stepped in?” His eyes looked down with an obvious critique on the neighbor's choice of clothing.

In strict contrast to Spike's clothing, Jack had on crisp khakis and a blue dress shirt under a black sweater vest. Seriously, of the two of them, blondie needed wardrobe adjustments.

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i_wannadance
2008-02-18 05:19 pm UTC (link)

Mr. Idol?

Spike thought, for about ten seconds, of explaining to this little tidbit of rampaging gayness exactly who stole the look from whom, but he thought better of it. If he was going to have to get nasty, it was better to save up the terror.

The vampire pursed his lips and closed one eye, tilting his head and scowling at Jack. Who in the bloody hell did he think he was, anyway? The git would get along famously with ... no. Scratch that. Even Angel would be trying to end this guy. That made Spike smile, very slowly. He felt vindicated.

"I tried to be nice," he said, to no one in particular. He shrugged. If Jack would step two steps forward, he could grab him out of the apartment and clean the bloody floor with him. Oh, he hoped he'd take two steps forward. How to make him do that, though?

Feigning shock, eyebrows both raising and mouth opening in pretend alarm, Spike's eyes slid to the right, away from the door, as if he was seeing something absolutely shocking.

"Is that..." An eyebrow rose and then fell, punctuating the question, and a pale hand rose to point in the direction he'd been looking. "...John Stamos?"

Spike had to work very, very hard not to grin.

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-22 03:50 am UTC (link)

Tried to be nice. Whatever. Nice meant not interrupting quality Cher time. Even heteros knew that, didn't they? Wasn't that taught in school now, Metrosexual 101 or something? But the strange was now looking away and Jack briefly considered shutting the door and going back to Cher. Maybe he'd put in a different CD. Somehow, the old Sonny and Cher stuff was very appealing. A little, "I Got You Babe" should help wonky neighbor with the apparent twist he had in his BVDs.

Hey... what was blondie looking at, anyway?

"Is that... John Stamos?"

Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat learned the habit from an overly curious 'mo. "What?!" Instead of shutting the door in the stranger's face, Jack darted out the door with an exclamation of, "Have Mercy!" Except that there was no delicious Uncle Jesse with which to feast his eyes upon. Stopping, in the hallway, he turned around to face his neighbor. "Hey... there's no..."

Jack cocked his hip to the side and narrowed his eyes. "It's not nice to play with my emotions like that." One hand went over his chest in mock hurt.

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i_wannadance
2008-02-22 05:31 am UTC (link)

Spike had no twist in his BVDs. He didn't have any BVDs.

And here came the irritating ponce, prancing out the front door of his apartment and yelling bad lines from 'Full House.' Spike smiled now. A big, not very friendly smile.

It's not nice to play with my emotions like that.

Spike nodded. "Well. Y'see." He shrugged, amiably, and then very quickly closed the distance between himself and Jack and grabbed him by the collar, lifting the little idiot off the floor and holding him there. "I'm not that nice."

He had a feeling shifting into his game face might make this guy cry or pee or both. He did not fancy being urinated on, so for now, he'd hold that back.

"Getting on my nerves is hazardous to your health, yeah? Now. I don't want to have to do anything rash, 'ere."

He really didn't. Spike had enough problems. "But you are bloody not going to keep playing that song. And if you do." He bit his lip and lowered his eyes, almost flirtatiously, raising them back to the guy's. "I will have to seriously think about throwing you down a flight of very large stairs."

Suddenly he was reminded of smacking Xander in the back of the head with a microscope. Did this man have a microscope anywhere?

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-25 05:06 pm UTC (link)

Hey! Wait, wait, wait!! What was this crazy hetero doing?! This was not how neighbors were supposed to meet! “Hey! Hey! HEY!” Jack squealed, hands flailing and slapping at his weird blond neighbor's grip. “Leggo the Homo!!”

He wriggled and squirmed, flailing to get free like a fish out of water... or a gay man in a straight club. “I get it, I get it, Mr. Blond Ambition Tour doesn't want to hear the gospel of Cher anymore. Put me down already.” Jack wriggled some more, fighting enough that he managed to get himself free. His hands fluttered in front of his chest, as if brushing away offense.

“That is not how neighbors are suppose to introduce themselves. Neighbors should be neighborly. The kind of people you want to welcome into your living room everyday... like Tony Danza.” Jack's eyes drew themselves from the stranger's face up to his hair. “Maybe share information on hair care products or at the very least... drinks with cute little umbrellas in them.”

Jack shuffled quickly back toward his door. “A proper neighbor would have said, 'Hi, my name is Billy Idol and I'm your neighbor, could you turn God down to a lighter volume please, I'm trying to pretend I don't watch Passions.'” It was a lucky guess, Jack had no idea who (only straights would watch it, seriously), would watch such an abomination.

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i_wannadance
2008-02-26 04:47 am UTC (link)

What was happening here was a lot like what you'd get when a bully held a little flailing wimp at arm distance, and the wimp kept missing the bully as he swung his arms. Classic.

But this time the wimp got away.

"Neighborly."

Spike canted his head, and bright blue eyes smiled at the guy he'd just been pinning to the wall.

"God doesn't go down to a reasonable volume, mate," he said. This Spike was sure of, given recent events involving magic, angry Wiccans, and souls.

Passions? Ohhh.

"I like the show," he said. "Sod off, then."

Spike backed up, considering. This guy had no idea what he was, at all. None. He could feel it. He sighed, heavily, and looked up at the ceiling as though for help. Help was never comin', not from up there, anyway.

"Right. I'm your neighbor. Spike. There's your introduction. Could you turn the music down to a lighter volume, please, I'm trying to watch 'Passions.'"

He smirked triumphantly. If this guy started on the name, he would bleed him dry.

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i_amjustjack
2008-02-28 03:29 am UTC (link)

“Correction,” Jack said, turning is back momentarily as if he was going to skulk back into his apartment and slam the door. “God shouldn't ever have to go down to a reasonable volume.” There, take that. Cher should not have to be restrained. Never and not ever.

Then, the guy introduced himself properly and Jack McFarland turned back around to face him with a speed that would make even the most hyper of ADHD children dizzy. His palm was extended a second later toward Spike, but not with nearly enough length to allow him a chance to take it. “Jack McFarland: actor, singer, dancer, talk show host of 'Just Jack' and 'Jack Talk'” With each of these, his hands moved up quickly, fingers splaying wide and wriggling in Jazz Hand glory. “And everything else I didn't have room on my business card for. Nice to meetcha.”

He smiled, he giggled and above all, he was fabulous. Jack McFarland was never anything other than fabulous. But.. Spike. Spike, his name was Spike?

“So, what's with the verb-name? Because I'm assuming you're not all spikey like... pointy in parts...” His eyes trailed down toward Spike's waist and beyond. “Nounish... must be a verb, like Sting.”

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i_wannadance
2008-02-28 04:53 am UTC (link)

Bloody hell. Was there not room on that business card for 'thundering looney?'

What a piece of work. "Charmed," Spike said. The delivery was perfect, deadpan. He would kill to be smoking right now. Really kill. But the cigarettes were in the apartment. That meant this had to get cut off, and soon.

Spikey like pointy in parts?

Spike smiled, very slowly. It was a predator's smile. "Some parts," he answered. He laughed, a low, roiling laugh from the gut that purred out of his throat.

Spike. As in railroad. Did no one know their history anymore?

"Yeah. Guess it's a verb, now that I think about it."

He shook his head, not believing that he'd just said that. He walked away for a minute and came back holding cigarettes and a lighter, removing a cigarette from the pack and dangling it from his lips.

"Care for a fag, mate?" he asked, starting to light the thing. He realized as he flicked the flame into life why that was funny and did his best not to laugh.

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i_amjustjack
2008-03-02 11:33 pm UTC (link)

Jack did a single take, then a double take, then just one more for good measure. Care for a what? Spike didn't say... didn't ask for... did he? “Care for a fag, mate?” Did that mean something different in British, because if such a question was asked if any number of prominent clubs in New York it would get the same reaction.

Not immediately connecting the reference to Spike's cigarette, Jack raised his eyebrows. “You have one? I mean,” his hands flared just a bit, waggling out to the side in confusion. “I mean, other than moi.” Maybe this crazy guy did have a brother he was willing to... have educated in the rites of the 'Mo's.

This was pleasing and intriguing.

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i_wannadance
2008-03-04 09:00 pm UTC (link)

Spike inhaled, and the end of the cigarette smouldered into life. He laughed, and it was more like a snort, and smoke came out both nostrils.

"Americans," he said, sighing with contempt. "Got a pack of 'em," he continued smirking. "Right here in my pocket. Bollocks. This is too easy. Brush up on your UK slang, yeah?"

He smirked. "That..." Both eyebrows raised, and he pulled the cigarette away from where it had bobbed as he moved his lips, ".... and keep the music down if it's on repeat. We'll get along......."

Not well.
Nope.

"... as much as I can sodding stand it."

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