cozzybob (cozzybob) wrote in cozzybabbles, @ 2008-02-28 14:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, angel the series, spangel, spike |
[BTVS/ATS] In Knots
Title: In Knots
Author: cozzybob
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Warning: some slash, but it's more cuddly than sexual. Also, post NFAish, the usual angst, "gah", and Cozzy-ness.
Note: Can I post this here? I hope I can. Tell me if I can't. I felt like cuddly fic, but there wasn't any, so I ended up cuddling myself. It was written at three to four in the morning when I hadn't written anything of this nature in at least a month, or anything at all since last week. It's probably very rough, but I was so excited that I actually wrote a fic and finished it, that I really don't care right now. Woot! *pets us all*
Summary: Our two favorite vampires cuddle.
Angel considered himself the tongue-tied cherry stem in Spike's mouth, although he couldn't exactly say why at the moment. Something about the way his spine had to look after carrying the universe on his back for a hundred friggin' years, which had nothing to do with Spike's mouth at all unless he took into consideration that the last time he'd enjoyed that mouth to full pleasurability had been about hundred years ago, and therefore, his real problem was that Angel had not really lived for at least a hundred years time. It was fucking depressing, really, even when he wasn't thinking about Wesley corpses and Gunn guts and Fred turning into a pissed off monster god.
To ease the soul, he'd drunken himself into a Liam stuper, and now he was so far into depression that everything had some deeply disturbing tarot card verdict on his life. Spike was not an idiot, he knew Angel better than anyone else still alive on the planet, but he also knew when to ignore the blubbering, and firmly remained oblivious. Spike picked another cherry from the bag he'd stolen at Farm Fresh and popped it into his mouth. He spit the seed and swallowed down the juicy red meat (making Angel groan, who never consumed anything other than blood unless he was trying to prove a point), and then stuck another the stem into his mouth to demonstrate his skills all over again.
"You weren't watching," Spike slurred, stem stuck between his teeth. "Pay attention, it's a life-saving skill."
"For what?"
With a glare, Spike waved dubiously, arm expanding to point out the endless fields of wet grass around them, and the possibly very attractive blood-pumping girls in miniskirts carrying stakes somewhere out there begging for a vampire with a soul to come along and pop their sweet, delicious little... cherry.
"Spike, we're trying to avoid my having sex, remember?"
"Pah." He sucked the stem fully into his mouth and began to work his tongue into knots. Angel watched briefly until he felt familiar swelling in his nether regions, and that was his breaking point because he sighed explosively and collapsed down into the grass, sprawled out and exhausted under a glaring full moon. He wondered, briefly, how Oz was doing tonight, and then wondered if he was around to eat what was left of Angel so that Angel didn't have to put up with the inane drunken antics of Spike anymore.
They'd been running from the demon hoards for about five months now; Blue Girl was off fighting her battles somewhere in Wesley's name and Gunn was permanently dead even though in a moment of frantic un-Spikeliness, the younger vampire had tried turn him. Neither Angel nor Spike had walked out of that battle human, though upon reflection he was glad because no human had survived the atom bomb blast that Illyria put down on LA, destroying the city and almost everything in it. Angel and Spike took almost two full weeks to recover, and by then the hoard had discovered they were still alive and caught up with them. Since then, the two vampires had been running nonstop, and it seemed to Angel that instead of preventing the end of the world, he had moreso brought it about.
Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift again. They'd stopped by the grocery and Spike stole cherries and beer while Angel bought a map and looked for the local butcher shop. Discovering that there was, in fact, none in the area, they'd just found rats--or Angel did, but apparently Spike's pride hadn't sunken that low yet. They bitched to one another for hours while they walked, their car having been abandoned back in Maryland, and ended up on a golf course at three in the morning, Spike attempting to teach him the cherry stem trick he learned in the seventies to pass the time until the hoards found them again.
"'Tis a matter o' practish," Spike when on, slurring wetly because of the knot in his mouth.
Angel sighed for the hundred time since losing the Jag.
"Yeah..."
Spike flopped down and spit the bow-tie stem, his right hand patting around beside him for the last two bottles of beer. He tossed one to Angel, who let it land hard on his stomach with an 'oomph', and guzzled down his own like he was a starving man. Which he was, technically, since he knew full well Spike hadn't actually consumed blood in at least a week and a half. Angel knew eating solids was Spike's way of forgetting that, which probably explained some of the tales that came out of Sunnydale and his somewhat strange impression on the Scoobies. The last time he'd honestly spoken with Buffy in person had been at Spike's death after saving the world, and Buffy had laughed with tears in her eyes as she told him that Spike was a true one-of-a-kind vampire. "He'd order onion blossoms and really hot wings. He'd dip Wheatabix in his blood. He once asked my mother to make blood pudding, Angel!"
It'd been her way of saying that she was going to miss the little bastard. Angel wondered when she'd sent him to hell if she'd told Spike about how Angel never ate anything but blood, and he wasn't a very unique vampire at all anymore. He could hear them conspiring, giggling over what a fool Angel was to care for either of them. Well, okay, he cared for Buffy, maybe, but Spike could go choke on cherries.
Said vampire spit out yet another pit and finished the last of his beer. "You gonna drink that, mate?" When Angel didn't answer, or even move to take the bottle that had landed on his chest, Spike stole it and drank that too.
Angel wasn't an idiot, either; he knew Spike was viciously depressed just like he was, probably even moreso, and the only difference was that it was expected of Angel, and Spike would rather burn yet another fiery death than admit to the older vampire that he was having problems moving on. Ever since the name change in that mineshaft over a century ago, Spike had done nothing but take life by balls and run with it. Now, he lost his duster in some tiny western town called Liberty City, and he hadn't even spared a frown when it was gone. Of course, the real one had been blown up in Rome, but it was still very wrong, in Angel's opinion. Even William would've done something about it, but all Spike had done was sigh, nod, and keep walking. Maybe Spike was just changing his image again. It was certainly time for one, if his pace over the last century was any sign... actually, he was kind of surprised the duster stayed as long as it did. He'd never seen Spike that attached to anything else before. But Spike hadn't even gelled his hair in a while now, and his roots were growing in again--Angel'd thought it was just this running lifestyle they had, but maybe...
"Spike?"
"Hm?" The other man turned his head slightly, having been only half-awake. Spike tired easily these days, partly depression, partly starvation.
"Why didn't you change your name after you won your soul?"
Silence, for the longest time, then a soft laugh. "Oh, I dunno. Too fond of it, I guess."
"Hm," Angel grunted. "I guess."
"Hey Angel?"
"Hm?"
"I'm starved. Can you spare a bit o' blood?"
It was Angel's turn to twitch slightly, pretending he was only half-awake and barely paying attention. It didn't matter, did it? It'd only taken Spike nearly two weeks to ask... and it was asked so monotonously, Angel could pretend that it wasn't a very big deal at all.
He dropped his arm heavily on Spike's chest, too tired with the world to move anything else or argue that point in case. "Go ahead." He flicked his wrist, displaying a proud, lifeless vein. Spike gingerly took the offered wrist and turned on his side to do it, had his fangs out and grazing the skin before he hesitated, turned back, and flopped down into the grass again.
Spike curled on his side, his back to Angel to hide the obvious misery on his face that filtered into his words. "Nevermind, keep it."
Angel thought about just letting him be, because that's exactly what he'd been doing since the gypsy curse. But Spike had been through a lot--in his own way, just as much as Angel, and there was no reason Spike couldn't be weak if Angel was perfectly willing to lie down like this and be just that for a change. He rolled to his side so that he and Spike were touching and put his hand on Spike's shoulder like it belonged there. Spike twitched, but it shocked Angel to no end when it wasn't shoved away again. Drunk, tried, and in terrible need for even the cheapest comfort, Angel couldn't resist dropping the hand down to Spike's too-thin waist, snaking his arm around it and pulling the other vampire closer. Spike said nothing, neither really desperate to give voice to the thing that was going on between them, mostly because it didn't need a name and neither knew the intentions of it. He simply laid there like a rock when Angel put his own wrist to his mouth, bit it to pierce the skin, and shoved it back into Spike's face. When Angel nudged the bloody incision to Spike's lips, the smaller man shivered in his arms, the hunger no-doubt killing him.
"Don't be stubborn," Angel muttered with a barely-kept curse, disturbing the tiny hairs on the back of Spike's neck with his cold, dead breath. They stood on end, then relaxed, and finally Spike opened his mouth, fangs decended again to suckle at what he didn't want to admit he needed. Angel's free arm held Spike tightly, the sensation of his blood moving into his grandchilde giving him a serious case of the willies. Together, lying under the stars in the wet grass, they both pretended that they weren't nostalgic, they weren't highly turned on, and they certainly didn't like each other at all.
It was just...
Spike let go of Angel's wrist, taking not nearly enough, and grabbed another cherry from the bag to cure his deeper hungers. He tossed the stem, spit the seed, and let the meat of the fruit rest on his tongue, taking over the taste of Angel and grandsire. Angel wasn't even phased, and licked his own wrist once to make it heal. He held Spike tightly despite obvious body language, spooning him as he hadn't since... ever. He didn't really know why Spike let him do it, but he was happy enough to lie there that he didn't ask questions. It wasn't the time for questions, that time had passed long ago.
Finally realizing this, Spike sighed an unnecessary breath and burrowed deeper, and Angel smiled for the first time in months. The older vampire took a stem lying in the grass beside him and stuck it in his mouth while Spike fell fast asleep against his body. Angel decided that he was going to master the art of the cherry stem by morning, and then he was going to put that new skill to work. He had lives to save, after all.
--Fini