thatotherperv

wow, I was completely blown away by the response to the first chapter. both quantity and quality. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that yall like this one so much!

Title: I Burn
Author: Mel (

thatotherperv)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: human AU. Spike is a pyromaniac, stalking a fire investigator named Angel. An improbable love story (to say the least).
Warnings: Angst, obviously, from the setup. D/s but not of the usual variety. It’s more…emotional D/s than lifestyle or kink (though there is *some* kink, there’s nothing extreme). Hard to explain, but you’ll see.
infinite thanks to

kitty_poker1 for being my second pair of eyes, giving me advice on plot, characterization, and the occasional spelling error. *squishes her*

Note: I accept concrit. but if you have something to discuss with me in need of improvement or clarification, you should bring that concern to me in this post or in email at thatotherperv@livejournal.com. it just makes my life easier to have it in one place.

“You breathe…I burn.”
—Toadies

Previous chapters here

Chapter 2

It had been two weeks since the brief contact Will had with Liam at Willy’s, and he was bored out of his bloody mind. And restless. Why hadn’t Liam been by since that day? Will had expected a few days’ absence…there always were when a certain case reared its head, but this was far too long.

Will had waited for months to meet the bloke. Tried to be patient, and the terror in his gut every time he thought about how their first meeting might go had helped with that. Not as though anyone had ever fancied him a catch, had they? He knew he could be…odd. He’d been mocked for it his whole life.

But it had gone well…hadn’t it? Had its awkward moments, yeah. Might have been better if he knew about American football, but Liam didn’t seem to care much about that. Will had been nearly shaking with the high of the recent burn, and of having those eyes focused on him for the first time. He’d had the bloke’s attention for months, but not like that. No tv camera between them. No crime scene. No press conference.

Just Liam and Will. Everything leading up to this paled in comparison.

Liam had gotten off his bar stool, and approached Will, and talked to him. Him. Finally. Just when Will was beginning to think he’d never do it.

Now, with this lengthy absence, he had no idea if he’d ever do it again. And Will was beginning to get that familiar itch. Hadn’t expected it so soon, but there was no denying…it had been gaining mass all week, whispering in his ear, burning the back of his skull. Caught himself staring at his lighter a bit too long last night. Just admiring. Imagining….

“Hey…Will, right?”

He froze in recognition of that voice, coins gone quiet as he paused in counting the change in the till. He still had a hard time believing his eyes when he looked up.

“…Angel.” Oh god. He’d never come in here before. This place wasn’t in his neighborhood.

“Good memory.” Liam smiled at him in that endearingly awkward way, and Will tried to shrug on his confidence despite the fact that he was feeling rattled.

Tried to be a little less ‘Will,’ and a little more ‘Spike.’

“How could I forget you, luv. What brings you by this fine establishment?”

Spike was pleased to see Liam color a bit before he lifted a case of pisswater beer onto the counter. “Drinkin’ alone?” He flirted his tongue behind his teeth, smug when it drew Liam’s eyes.

“Yeah, I guess…just…bad week.”

“Shame. I always find a bit of company’s the thing for stress relief.” Spike only shot him one brief look as he rang up the purchase, playing nervousness off as flirtation.

“Mmm.” He pretended not to notice the way that Liam’s eyes roved over his face and hands as he handled the transaction, feeling a warm, anxious buzz at the attention. When it was time to turn back with Liam’s change, he made a show of smirking as he caught him in the act.

Liam flushed, but he didn’t leave.

“So….” Liam studied the cage of metal and plexiglass around Spike. “Not a great neighborhood, huh?”

He let himself laugh. “Nah. But the place pulls in more dosh than you’d expect, given the location. Freeway traffic. Folks run out of gas, even in the slums.”

“Do you live….” It was an awkward question.

“Not far, but the neighborhood’s loads better. Well. Not loads, maybe, but…. Bloke that owns this place was desperate for someone to work the graveyard shift. Couldn’t find anyone for a month or so before me, so the pay’s good.” Was he babbling? No. Kept the pace slow and even, and threw a cocky stretch in for good measure. Liam eyed the bared strip of belly appreciatively.

“There’s probably a reason for that.”

Spike shrugged. “’M from London. Not the posh part, either…grew up in a real shithole.” That was a tad too personal for someone meant to be a complete stranger, and it was followed by awkward silence. He hurried to cover. “Besides, our customers are fine, upstanding citizens. Just tonight, I sold beer to Houston’s finest.”

At his wink, Liam’s body language loosened, and he leaned against the counter as though he were planning on staying a while. Spike had never actually regretted the security cage before.

“Finest, huh? Knew there was a reason I took this firefighter gig,” he joked. His broad fingers toyed with the pen that was chained to the countertop.

Spike sent him a brief flirtatious look, eyes holding long enough that they both warmed. “Did it for the lads, did you?” It was a seemingly casual question, but one that they both read as deliberate. Now was when they brought it out in the open…when Liam either smiled or ran.

He didn’t run.

What he did do is blush ever so lightly and grin foolishly, eyes ticking down to the mat on the counter that described the various types of lotto tickets on sale at this fine establishment. Spike felt a surge of confidence unlike anything he’d experienced without setting something on fire.

“Then again, ‘s a piss-poor reason to risk life and limb for a living, innit? Far easier ways to get laid, I’m sure.”

Liam returned his smirk and shrugged modestly. “I’m riding a desk these days. Not much risk involved anymore.”

He pretended sudden enlightenment. “Ah, yeah. That have anything to do with the way you ran off last time?”

Liam gave him a half-nod, suddenly distracted. “I’m a fire investigator. Means I tend to get called away on my off-time.” He huffed out a little laugh. “A lot.”

“So, when you rushed off before, was it about that bloke—”

“Shit,” Liam swore softly, and Will was confused until he pulled out a vibrating phone and answered. There were a few short questions barked into the cell whose answers had him pinching the bridge of his nose, voice edgy enough that Will felt sorry for the bloke on the other end. As he snapped his phone shut, he regarded Will with regret. “Look, I gotta….”

“Work?”

“Yeah. Fucking Spike. Again.”

Will froze. “Struck again, did he?”

“Maybe. We’ll see. Watch the news, I’m sure they’ll know before I do. Or they’ll think they do.”

His gears were spinning so furiously that he was unsure exactly what reply he made to that. Luckily, Liam was too distracted to notice.

“Look, Will, it was good talking to you—” His mobile began buzzing in his hand once again, and he swore. “I really have to go.”

“Yeah, ‘course, go on and be a hero.”

“Yeah….” Liam looked as though he didn’t know what to make of that. His phone went off a third time. “Maybe I’ll see you around? At Willy’s?”

Play it cool, mate. “Yeah. Maybe.”

His eyes followed Liam out of the convenience store, but his mind was already elsewhere.

Fucking copycat. There had been a few over the last couple months, once his story became news of the we-regret-to-interrupt-your-program variety. Filthy little buggers, trying to steal his glory.

Poached on Liam’s time, as well. That was even less forgivable.

It might be time to dip into his stash of keys. Didn’t think he could wait much longer, anyway.

~*~*~*~

It was a copycat. He’d known that much the minute he walked in the door, and the farther into the process he got, the less it looked like Spike. There was the signature icon and key, but that was as deep as the resemblance went. Looked like arson with the intent of insurance fraud.

It was a call that should have gone to the investigator that was on tonight, but the resemblance to Angel’s case meant he was the one stuck filing paperwork when he should have been knocking a few back and falling asleep on his couch. Somehow that pissed him off even more than if the call had been genuine.

He rubbed at his raw, exhausted eyes as he finished up his notes. The formal report could be written tomorrow. Pour pattern of the accelerant under the kitchen linoleum showed that the fire originated in the kitchen, by the stove. It was a common tactic of fraud arson, and completely contradictory to Spike’s pattern. This guy seemed to be setting himself up for an “accidental” kitchen fire when he must have gotten nervous and decided to cover his tracks. Another rich guy, over his head in debt because he was even more of a greedy bastard than his bank account afforded.

How many times had he seen that?

But in choosing to copy Spike, he screwed himself over by getting it all wrong. It was the wrong time of day—Spike always started fires during the standard workday, when the occupants were away. He usually started the fire in the living room, or sometimes a bedroom—never the kitchen. More material to stoke the fire rapidly, and there was no mistaking that the fire had been accidental if it started in the middle of a room, away from all appliances…when no one was home.

Spike liked to give Angel the finger that way.

The sun was rising as he left his office, bound for his truck. Fuck the beer, fuck the couch…he’d be passing out face-first on top of sheets that hadn’t seen a sleeping body in weeks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike had to wait three agonizing days for relief. He was working every day that week—his other job—and some of the nights as well, at the convenience store. He didn’t go by Willy’s…it was hard enough keeping a good face while he was on the job, but he didn’t want to see Liam until it was done.

He had to go to work, keep up appearances, play the good little citizen, but on the inside, he was such a mess. Jittery and nervous and obsessive in his focus on what he’d soon be doing. The pressure of nownownow was immense, but outwardly he concentrated on being charming and normal. The people around him hopefully had no idea that if they’d required more of him than ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘That’ll be $3.11,’ the illusion would have fallen apart rapidly.

But when the day came, it all fell away and he was left with the calm clarity—that buzz of peace—that always came from giving in. He picked through the drawer, each key whispering logistics, and finally allowed himself to choose exactly which prick would be brought low today. He knew the bloke well…he was a bad man, all rotten inside. Spoiled and puffed up as a pampered peacock like him would be. Never a hard day in his life, no doubt.

Not like him and Liam.

Spike gathered up the jumpsuit with the electric company logo and the dark wig. He’d give Holland Manners the worst day of his wretched life. Give Liam something to wrap that big gorgeous brain around, while he was at it.

continued