Fic: Date Night

[clockwork_hart1]

Title: Date Night
Summary: Remember how, in "Just Rewards" Spike said he was Angel's date to the necromancer? Well, he's going to milk that for all it's worth...
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: I own everything, EVERYTHING in the universe. Including you, reader. So you can't argue, I'll just have you executed. Nah, A Joss-shaped guy (my master) owns the characters, I'm just playing puppet master whilst he's out, 'kay?
Distribution: You could do me the courtesy of telling me first, but have at it...

Originally posted here


Angel tried his best not to punch through the wall. Spike. In his room. Again. He was stood surveying the ugly city beyond the window, Los Angeles more at home beneath shadows.

"Get out, Ghost of Pests past", Angel grumbled, turning over in the bed away from the incorporeal ass staring out the window. Was it so much to ask for a decent night's sleep in an Evil Law Firm?

Spike grinned, vanishing from the window and appearing directly in front of his Grandsire, kneeling so their eyes met. "Make me."

Angel rubbed his temples, "dear god don't tempt me."

"So, anyway, for our next date, I think we should do something a little more low-key." The blonde was in his most irritating of moods, much to Angel's chagrin.

"Shut up, Spike."

"I mean last night was great, dinner and a show. Y'know, without the dinner, but what a show!" Spike threw out his arms and gave Angel his best jazz hands.

"Get out. I'm not in the mood."

Spike stood and turned around, as though he was contemplating leaving, then turned back with glee in his eyes. He pointed at Angel, "a movie!" He walked back to the bed and sat at Angel's back. It barely registered that he wasn't falling through it. "We'll go to a movie, and if you treat me real nice I might even let you make out with me in the loud scenes."

Angel tried to bury his face in his pillow, desperately resorting to the 'if I stay really still, he might go away' method. Under his breath he muttered, "what does a guy have to do to get an exorcism around here?"

Spike lay down on the bed, stretching out ghostly limbs, "and if you're really good, I'll let ya cop a feel in the back row…" Despite himself, he grinned at the ceiling.

Angel turned under the covers to face his ghost, and if they were both corporeal their faces would have been touching, "a feel of what, Casper?"

For the briefest of moments, Spike was lost for words, dumbfounded. But that was soon rectified. "Shove it up your arse, Angel."

Both vampires turned to lie on their backs feeling exhaustion consume them, night creatures shying away from the night. The life of a Champion.

Angel let out an unnecessary breath, giving up the hope of being free from his pest, "Goodnight, Swayze."

"Sleep tight, Peaches."

And Angel turned out the light.