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Short Circuit (Harry and Spike, closed/complete)
Spike sat at the bar inside The Darkside of the Moon. It was about 4 p.m. The bartender was a half-incompetent guy that, the vampire was hearing, should be worried about the cute blonde they had working nights getting his days, too.
He'd ducked in here with the help of a blanket atop his duster. All things considered, he really needed a drink.
And, at present, he was arguing with the bartender about how to make a flowering onion. The kid was telling him onion rings were the same.
They were not. And the kid wanted to serve him those.
"It's a sodding ART FORM," Spike scoffed. "S'not something you throw in the bleedin' fryer and walk away from. What's wrong with you?!"
Alright, it wasn't that late in the day, and there was beer at the house, but Harry needed to get <i>away</i> from that house for a little while. His brain was still swimming with all the things he'd Seen out of Jo, and it was a fair solution to drown the images in some alcohol.
"Hey. Billy Idol." Harry rolled his eyes, glancing up from his table at the white-haired man doing all the yelling. "If you want a blooming onion, go find Outback Steakhouse. If you want a bar, take the damn onion rings and shut up about it."
Spike glared.
He turned his attention from the idiot git kid to the guy that was now yelling at him.
Spike looked a little worse for the wear. His blanket was on the bar stool to his right. His hair was dishevelled, both from the blanket and from his pulling at it recently. And his face was borderline tired, if that was possible for a vampire.
"Sod. Off," he said. The tone made what he was saying seem much, much worse.
He took a long swallow of his beer, then glared again at the jerk.
Harry glared right back. It was a careful glare. It took a lot of experience to be able to glare efficiently at someone without looking in their eyes. Harry focused his at the center of the idiot's nose.
He'd ducked in here with the help of a blanket atop his duster. All things considered, he really needed a drink.
And, at present, he was arguing with the bartender about how to make a flowering onion. The kid was telling him onion rings were the same.
They were not. And the kid wanted to serve him those.
"It's a sodding ART FORM," Spike scoffed. "S'not something you throw in the bleedin' fryer and walk away from. What's wrong with you?!"
Alright, it wasn't that late in the day, and there was beer at the house, but Harry needed to get <i>away</i> from that house for a little while. His brain was still swimming with all the things he'd Seen out of Jo, and it was a fair solution to drown the images in some alcohol.
The last thing he wanted was to hear some Brit asshole verbally assaulting a bartender. That just wasn't right.
Spike glared.
He turned his attention from the idiot git kid to the guy that was now yelling at him.
Spike looked a little worse for the wear. His blanket was on the bar stool to his right. His hair was dishevelled, both from the blanket and from his pulling at it recently. And his face was borderline tired, if that was possible for a vampire.
"Sod. Off," he said. The tone made what he was saying seem much, much worse.
He took a long swallow of his beer, then glared again at the jerk.
Harry glared right back. It was a careful glare. It took a lot of experience to be able to glare efficiently at someone without looking in their eyes. Harry focused his at the center of the idiot's nose.
A few other details crept in. How pale he was. The bloodshot eyes. The prickling cold sensation on the back of Harry's neck. An eerie flow to the man's features and movements. After a moment, Harry's careful glare settled into relaxed annoyance, mixed with disgust. "Hell's bells," he growled. "Can't even get a damn drink in this town without running into an idiot vampire."
He stood, staff in hand, and tilted it forward, aiming it at the creature sitting on the barstool. "It's pretty bright out. I could launch you out the door with only minimal property damage. And since I'd pay for said damage, I think the young man behind the bar would be pretty glad to get rid of another pest. Wouldn't make me lose a second of sleep. So take the goddamn onion rings, or leave. I think you'd prefer it by your own power."
Spike made a face.
"Announce that to the bleedin' bar, why don't ya? I don't have enough problems."
He glared up at Harry, completely unimpressed.
"Get your knickers out their twist magic man," the vampire answered, voice level. "You wanna throw me outside? Go right ahead. You have no idea the relief that'd be."
He took a long drink of his beer, and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. There was a large NO SMOKING sign behind the bar that he was patently ignoring. He lit one and fired it to life, pulling on it. "Do me a favor though, yeah? Remove the stick from where the bar stool oughta be before you send me sailin' through the air and into the great sunshiney hereafter."
He had no fear at all of the man. None. He'd seen what Willow could do, what Rack did... Spike really didn't care if he got hurt, except that Dawn might care.
The soul would stop eating him, though. And that would be wonderful.
( MORE! )
Spike made a face.
"Announce that to the bleedin' bar, why don't ya? I don't have enough problems."
He glared up at Harry, completely unimpressed.
"Get your knickers out their twist magic man," the vampire answered, voice level. "You wanna throw me outside? Go right ahead. You have no idea the relief that'd be."
He took a long drink of his beer, and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. There was a large NO SMOKING sign behind the bar that he was patently ignoring. He lit one and fired it to life, pulling on it. "Do me a favor though, yeah? Remove the stick from where the bar stool oughta be before you send me sailin' through the air and into the great sunshiney hereafter."
He had no fear at all of the man. None. He'd seen what Willow could do, what Rack did... Spike really didn't care if he got hurt, except that Dawn might care.
The soul would stop eating him, though. And that would be wonderful.
( MORE! )