Backup, Chapter 8
Jul. 12th, 2006 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatotherpervI know what I said, but...this was a few days late, and my new banner had me all inspired...
Title: Backup: the Won’t Back Down sequel
Author: Mel (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17 slash, some het elements but no more than PG-13
Summary: teen human AU sequel to WBD, the boys learn how to be men and face the world together. Um, some less pretty things are gonna happen here. I’m just sayin’.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please :)
Won’t Back Down and related ficlets are here
lookie, it’s new and shiny!
banner by the lovelysueworld2003
Previously:
“Spike, I mean it. Not tonight.”
Angel almost wanted to laugh as the other boy threw himself down on the bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling, pouting. After a moment, he rolled away and scoffed, “Fine.” Back tense and fist pounding at the pillow.
In the tense silence that followed, Angel’s belly gurgling painfully. He could tell Spike was still awake by the set of his shoulders, and he heard Spike mumble something into his pillow.
“What’s that?”
The blond turned his head a little towards him. “I said, there’s Pepto Bismol in the medicine cabinet. Ponce.”
“Oh. Thanks.” But Angel was talking to the unyielding wall that was Spike’s back, so he slipped out of bed and plodded off to the bathroom to find the medicine.
Chapter 8
Angel was up for most of the night tossing and turning with indigestion, so it was already late morning when he awoke. Spike wasn’t in bed any more. Mindful of the fact that Spike’s dad was home, Angel dressed for the day before he went down for breakfast.
He was halfway down the stairs before he realized there was an argument in progress in the kitchen or the living room. He hovered on the stairs, unsure now whether food was important enough to get in the middle of this. Even after everything he and Spike had been through, this was too awkward.
“Will, for Christ’s sake, you’d think I was trying to suggesting something horrible. All I’m saying is that you should put more effort in at school, or you’ll never be able to get into university—”
“Go fuck yourself, you tosser!” Spike screamed, and Angel cringed at the malice in his voice. “’M not going to uni. Told you that before, not that you ever listen. I don’t even know why you have to stick your nose in—just go back to pretendin’ I don’t exist, and we’ll both be happy.”
The yelling got louder, until Spike emerged in the foyer, voice ringing off the stone floor and vaulted ceiling. He blew right past without seeing Angel, and slammed out the front door, giving the windows a jarring rattle.
The overtly calm voice was a contrast to Spike’s exit. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He was certainly raised better, but….” Angel turned to see Spike’s father, looking up at him from the door to the living room. “Liam, wasn’t it?” Angel nodded. “You must be peckish. Come down, and we’ll get you something to eat.”
Something to eat turned out to be a bowl of Cheerios, which made sense, since Spike’s dad couldn’t cook. Angel had been all ready to make crepes this morning, but he’d feel awkward cooking in the kitchen like he owned the place, especially after Spike’s father suggested cereal and sat down to join him for the meal, even though he’d clearly already eaten.
“William always takes everything so personally,” Spike’s dad said abruptly after a long silence. He looked tired and distant. “He always was a sensitive boy.”
Angel snorted at that. His utter mortification over the noise was dampened by the rueful smile Spike’s dad gave him.
“I know, you couldn’t tell it these days.”
The man quieted, obviously still troubled by the fight, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was Angel’s teeth crunching through the cereal. He tried to do it quietly, but that just wasn’t possible.
“I honestly didn’t know things had gotten as bad as they had, you know,” Spike’s dad said suddenly, looking at Angel as though it mattered what he thought of the man. “I should have paid more attention, but I wrote it off to teenage rebellion. I was a bit of a handful myself as well, back in the day, and I… It was stupid and careless of me. We almost lost him to the drugs.”
He looked a lot older as he stroked a hand over his face. Angel felt like he was intruding. He didn’t really understand why the man was disclosing his thoughts, and sort of wished he wouldn’t. The man definitely didn’t have to justify anything to him. It would probably be less awkward all around if Spike’s dad lived up to his reputation and kept everything all bottled up inside.
Instead, he kept talking, while Angel pretended to be fascinated by the little round o’s.
“Anyway, I dropped everything to move him over here, and trying to whip this LA branch into shape is killing me. Thought you Yanks were supposed to have work ethic, but these Californians…. Don’t come out here as much as I should.” Angel felt eyes on him. “Sorry. This is really family business, I shouldn’t pull you in. Though I suppose…. You’re actually more in it than I am, nowadays. How’s Will doing? Really?”
Angel froze mid-chew, feeling awkward. Maybe if he just didn’t answer? But Spike’s dad was looking at him expectantly, so he took his time chewing and swallowing as he thought about what to say. What a suitable answer might be for a dad who obviously cared about his son, whether his son realized it or not.
“Um, he’s doing well, I think,” Angel said finally. Please let that be enough.
Spike’s dad nodded, looking a little relieved. Angel felt like he was waiting for something else. Damn.
“Look, uh….” What was he supposed to call this guy, anyway? Sir?
“Tom is fine.”
Angel nearly did a double-take at the informality, but he rolled with it.
“…You can’t push Spike on anything. Especially lately, about college?” Angel snorted, remembering when he’d tried to bring it up. “He’s the most pig-headed person I’ve ever met. Once he gets something in his head, he won’t let it go until you just want to strangle him, you know? Even when you know you’re right, he’d rather run smack into a brick wall than admit it and….”
Thomas started laughing as Angel’s rant ran away with him, and Angel blushed under the good-humored, speculative look he was getting from the man.
“Well. If my son won’t listen to you, then I suppose I should let it rest for the moment. Look, it was good talking to you, Liam…I’ll be out in the home office if you need anything.”
Angel nodded and went back to his cereal as…Tom (how weird was that?) slipped through the kitchen door.
~*~*~*~
Spike took Angel’s bike and drove down to the river, in a rage from what a fuckwit his father could be. He followed the water, but didn’t stop at their spot. He didn’t want dappled sunlight and a breeze in the trees and gurgling water on a quiet day. He wanted speed. He wanted wind. He wanted the tires slipping just a little on the pavement as he took the curves too fast.
He needed something genuinely life-threatening, and this was actually the least damaging option he could come up with.
Because where did his fucking father get off? Did Spike get even a manly pat on the back for shaking a soul-sucking addiction on the first bloody try? ‘Course not. Did he get a thanks for cleaning up his life? Wanker was too busy making his next million. Had they ever had a heartwarming “glad you never died choking on your own pile of spew” father and son moment? The bastard bloody well couldn’t be bothered. Did Spike get any kind of recognition at all of how much he had changed in just the last year?
‘Course he didn’t, because nothing was ever good enough for da. All Spike got, for busting his balls and ignoring some very tempting temptation on a daily basis, was a lecture on getting his grades up. They’d nearly been having a pleasant breakfast, until his dad had to go and ruin it. Spike knew he owed him for letting Angel stay, so he’d laid off of him for once. They’d even had a good laugh together, before the bastard had to start in on the university song and dance.
For the last sodding time, he wasn’t going to uni. He didn’t fucking need to go to uni. The Dingoes were getting bigger, and he could feel that something was right around the corner for them. If his father didn’t think that was a suitable career goal, too fucking bad. Spike was tired of bending over backwards trying to please a man who was clearly not capable of being pleased. It was a wonder the prick’s underlings hadn’t all blown their bloody brains out by now.
Because it was good enough for Spike, playing with the Dingoes. More than. For the first time, he could see a future for himself somewhere. And it was good enough for Angel, whose standards were considerably higher than his own.
Angel. Spike spared a glance at his speedometer, and let off the gas. Poof would probably cry like a little girl if Spike wrecked the bike. Or himself.
Spike turned himself around at the next pullout. He still wanted to kill something, but it was probably best that he get back. It was cruelty to abandon Liam to his stuff-shirted father. Probably start asking him what his life plans were, and he’d make Angel feel bad.
Maybe he and Peaches could flee the house, go to the movie theater for the evening. They could do naughty things in the back row. Spike smiled. Yeah, that was a much better plan.
~*~*~*~
“Hey, pet,” Spike greeted, swinging into the room by the doorframe. He startled Angel, who immediately shut his sketchbook. “What’s that?”
“Oh…nothing important.” Angel put the sketchbook aside. He’d never shown Spike anything he drew. His art had always been his private hobby, one that his family never understood. Faith hardly ever even saw his sketches. “Where did you go?”
“Took the bike out for a spin, clear my head. I was pissed at dad.”
“Yeah…I heard.”
Spike looked mildly repentent. “Oh. Sorry if we woke you.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, maybe you should try to—” Spike’s face darkened in a way that didn’t bode well for the rest of that sentence. Angel jumped ship on the thought.
Instead, he stood and pulled Spike in for a kiss, trying to make up a little for his rejection of Spike in bed last night. As he’d expected, Spike immediately plastered himself against Angel.
“So, what do you want to do tonight?” Angel grinned as Spike rubbed against him.
Spike snorted good-naturedly. “What do you think?”
“Mmm…Parcheesi?” Angel laughed when Spike rolled his eyes and jabbed him in the ribs.
“Let’s go see that big summer blockbuster. If you blow me during the chase scene, I won’t have to keep quiet.”
Angel barked a laugh, but just as he opened his mouth to retort, a voice floated up the stairs.
“William? Are you home? If that is you, you boys should put on some real clothes. Something without holes or safety pins, preferably. The three of us are going out to dinner.”
Angel tried to conceal a grin as Spike’s forehead dropped against his chest in frustration, hands fisting on Angel’s shirt. Spike was muttering some very rude things about his father’s parentage.
“Will? I know you hear me!”
Spike’s head jerked up, and he started to bellow directly into Angel’s ear. “Al-bloody-right, you fucking wanker! Never gonna get shagged, thanks to you, but you don’t have to natter me to death before I die of blue balls!”
Angel cringed. He suspected he now had permanent hearing damage. Also, Spike…didn’t know the meaning of ‘too much information.’
“We can do dinner, then the movie by ourselves,” Angel offered. Spike took the olive branch grudgingly.
“I suppose we have no choice. Bloody kill-joy. But now, it’s got to be a really great blow job, yeah?” Spike grinned charmingly, tongue teasing out between his teeth.
Angel laughed. “I’ll make it a really great one. But in the car, not the movie theater. Someone might see.”
“You’re such a girl,” Spike scoffed as he headed towards the bedroom. Angel laughed, but cuffed him on the back of the head for good measure.
~*~*~*~
Spike twirled a noodle around his fork and scowled at the dirty look he was receiving from Angel. The hundred and twenty-third one of the night.
Personally, Spike thought all of his digs on the old man had been brilliant. Elegant, even. The art of blunt snarking and pointed ridicule was sadly underrated. Every time he popped daddy dearest with a particularly good piece of biting wit, Angel side-eyed him like he was being immeasurably rude. Which, he clearly didn’t realize, was the whole point. Angel had even gone so far as to kick him under the table when Spike had asked his father if his newest bint was old enough to vote.
No sense of humor. The two of them were now blathering on about something excessively dull, while Spike picked sullenly at his pasta.
“So, Liam, this will be your final year in school?”
“Yeah, I’m finally a senior.” Angel flashed that thousand-watt grin. Spike really wanted to shag him. When he slid a friendly hand up Angel’s thigh, Angel swatted it away without looking towards him.
“What are your plans for after graduation?”
Spike rolled his eyes. There he went, bloody wanker.
“I’m not sure yet…I’m applying at UC Sunnydale, but I don’t really know what my chances are of getting in.”
Spike sat up and stared at Angel. He was applying for college? Why the hell didn’t Spike know that?
Spike’s dad side-eyed him pointedly as he addressed Angel. “You seem like a bright boy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Thomas looked like a constipated squirrel when he was trying to be polite. “What’s your intended course of study?”
At the question, Angel looked a little gassy himself.
“Um…business?” Angel was now working overtime to avoid the lasers Spike was concentrating on boring into his skull. Business?
The old tosser perked right up at that one. “Really?” His squirrel-smile widened into something more genuine. “Do you have any particular area of interest?”
“Well, my uncle is talking about leaving the shop to me when he retires, and he’d probably make me a partner before that, if I understood the financial end of things better. So I just want to learn more about small business management.” Angel finally gave Spike a glance out of the corner of his eye, but Spike’s dumbfounded expression must have frightened him away, because his eyes darted quickly back to Thomas.
“Well that’s really commendable, Liam. Most small business owners get into trouble because they really have no clue how to run their businesses, and don’t think to learn. This way you’ll have the practical knowledge and the theory. That will take you a long way. Well done.”
The prickly shock digging at the base of Spike’s skull over Angel’s revelation was joined by something icy and painful in his gut at his father’s praise.
Funny, but he’d lost his appetite.
~*~*~*~
Spike held Angel back as his father went in the house with a quizzical backwards glance. Angel guiltily kept his body perpendicular to Spike, hands in his pockets and eyes away. He bloody well knew what was coming.
“What the buggering fuck was that all about?”
Angel’s eyes jumped over to Spike and then skittered away. “Look, it’s nothing to get all excited about. I doubt I’ll even get in. I didn’t think it was important to—”
“Bollocks!” Angel flinched, but Spike didn’t care. He knew he was right. “It was important enough to tell someone you just met yesterday. You just—”
“Well you weren’t exactly contributing to pleasant dinner conversation. I just thought that he’d like that I was applying, you know, with it being his thing and all….”
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away. “Yeah, he loved it alright. Probably creamed his panties over the idea.”
Angel held his tongue, looking sullen, and they were awkwardly silent for a long time, just standing in the driveway in the descending darkness.
“We should probably get changed for the movie,” Spike said suddenly.
There was a guilty pause, and Spike’s stomach clutched. “Those chairs at the restaurant were awfully hard, Spike. I know I’m mostly healed up, but my tailbone kind of aches from sitting there for so long, and—”
Spike was seething. Rejected, again. “Bloody typical,” he muttered, and slammed into the house, leaving Angel to brood about his sore arse.
By the time Angel came upstairs, Spike was already in bed under the covers. When Angel murmured his name in the dark, Spike pretended as though he were already fast asleep.
Chapter 9
Title: Backup: the Won’t Back Down sequel
Author: Mel (
btvslover82)Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17 slash, some het elements but no more than PG-13
Summary: teen human AU sequel to WBD, the boys learn how to be men and face the world together. Um, some less pretty things are gonna happen here. I’m just sayin’.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please :)
Won’t Back Down and related ficlets are here
lookie, it’s new and shiny!
banner by the lovely
sueworld2003Previously:
“Spike, I mean it. Not tonight.”
Angel almost wanted to laugh as the other boy threw himself down on the bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling, pouting. After a moment, he rolled away and scoffed, “Fine.” Back tense and fist pounding at the pillow.
In the tense silence that followed, Angel’s belly gurgling painfully. He could tell Spike was still awake by the set of his shoulders, and he heard Spike mumble something into his pillow.
“What’s that?”
The blond turned his head a little towards him. “I said, there’s Pepto Bismol in the medicine cabinet. Ponce.”
“Oh. Thanks.” But Angel was talking to the unyielding wall that was Spike’s back, so he slipped out of bed and plodded off to the bathroom to find the medicine.
Chapter 8
Angel was up for most of the night tossing and turning with indigestion, so it was already late morning when he awoke. Spike wasn’t in bed any more. Mindful of the fact that Spike’s dad was home, Angel dressed for the day before he went down for breakfast.
He was halfway down the stairs before he realized there was an argument in progress in the kitchen or the living room. He hovered on the stairs, unsure now whether food was important enough to get in the middle of this. Even after everything he and Spike had been through, this was too awkward.
“Will, for Christ’s sake, you’d think I was trying to suggesting something horrible. All I’m saying is that you should put more effort in at school, or you’ll never be able to get into university—”
“Go fuck yourself, you tosser!” Spike screamed, and Angel cringed at the malice in his voice. “’M not going to uni. Told you that before, not that you ever listen. I don’t even know why you have to stick your nose in—just go back to pretendin’ I don’t exist, and we’ll both be happy.”
The yelling got louder, until Spike emerged in the foyer, voice ringing off the stone floor and vaulted ceiling. He blew right past without seeing Angel, and slammed out the front door, giving the windows a jarring rattle.
The overtly calm voice was a contrast to Spike’s exit. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He was certainly raised better, but….” Angel turned to see Spike’s father, looking up at him from the door to the living room. “Liam, wasn’t it?” Angel nodded. “You must be peckish. Come down, and we’ll get you something to eat.”
Something to eat turned out to be a bowl of Cheerios, which made sense, since Spike’s dad couldn’t cook. Angel had been all ready to make crepes this morning, but he’d feel awkward cooking in the kitchen like he owned the place, especially after Spike’s father suggested cereal and sat down to join him for the meal, even though he’d clearly already eaten.
“William always takes everything so personally,” Spike’s dad said abruptly after a long silence. He looked tired and distant. “He always was a sensitive boy.”
Angel snorted at that. His utter mortification over the noise was dampened by the rueful smile Spike’s dad gave him.
“I know, you couldn’t tell it these days.”
The man quieted, obviously still troubled by the fight, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was Angel’s teeth crunching through the cereal. He tried to do it quietly, but that just wasn’t possible.
“I honestly didn’t know things had gotten as bad as they had, you know,” Spike’s dad said suddenly, looking at Angel as though it mattered what he thought of the man. “I should have paid more attention, but I wrote it off to teenage rebellion. I was a bit of a handful myself as well, back in the day, and I… It was stupid and careless of me. We almost lost him to the drugs.”
He looked a lot older as he stroked a hand over his face. Angel felt like he was intruding. He didn’t really understand why the man was disclosing his thoughts, and sort of wished he wouldn’t. The man definitely didn’t have to justify anything to him. It would probably be less awkward all around if Spike’s dad lived up to his reputation and kept everything all bottled up inside.
Instead, he kept talking, while Angel pretended to be fascinated by the little round o’s.
“Anyway, I dropped everything to move him over here, and trying to whip this LA branch into shape is killing me. Thought you Yanks were supposed to have work ethic, but these Californians…. Don’t come out here as much as I should.” Angel felt eyes on him. “Sorry. This is really family business, I shouldn’t pull you in. Though I suppose…. You’re actually more in it than I am, nowadays. How’s Will doing? Really?”
Angel froze mid-chew, feeling awkward. Maybe if he just didn’t answer? But Spike’s dad was looking at him expectantly, so he took his time chewing and swallowing as he thought about what to say. What a suitable answer might be for a dad who obviously cared about his son, whether his son realized it or not.
“Um, he’s doing well, I think,” Angel said finally. Please let that be enough.
Spike’s dad nodded, looking a little relieved. Angel felt like he was waiting for something else. Damn.
“Look, uh….” What was he supposed to call this guy, anyway? Sir?
“Tom is fine.”
Angel nearly did a double-take at the informality, but he rolled with it.
“…You can’t push Spike on anything. Especially lately, about college?” Angel snorted, remembering when he’d tried to bring it up. “He’s the most pig-headed person I’ve ever met. Once he gets something in his head, he won’t let it go until you just want to strangle him, you know? Even when you know you’re right, he’d rather run smack into a brick wall than admit it and….”
Thomas started laughing as Angel’s rant ran away with him, and Angel blushed under the good-humored, speculative look he was getting from the man.
“Well. If my son won’t listen to you, then I suppose I should let it rest for the moment. Look, it was good talking to you, Liam…I’ll be out in the home office if you need anything.”
Angel nodded and went back to his cereal as…Tom (how weird was that?) slipped through the kitchen door.
~*~*~*~
Spike took Angel’s bike and drove down to the river, in a rage from what a fuckwit his father could be. He followed the water, but didn’t stop at their spot. He didn’t want dappled sunlight and a breeze in the trees and gurgling water on a quiet day. He wanted speed. He wanted wind. He wanted the tires slipping just a little on the pavement as he took the curves too fast.
He needed something genuinely life-threatening, and this was actually the least damaging option he could come up with.
Because where did his fucking father get off? Did Spike get even a manly pat on the back for shaking a soul-sucking addiction on the first bloody try? ‘Course not. Did he get a thanks for cleaning up his life? Wanker was too busy making his next million. Had they ever had a heartwarming “glad you never died choking on your own pile of spew” father and son moment? The bastard bloody well couldn’t be bothered. Did Spike get any kind of recognition at all of how much he had changed in just the last year?
‘Course he didn’t, because nothing was ever good enough for da. All Spike got, for busting his balls and ignoring some very tempting temptation on a daily basis, was a lecture on getting his grades up. They’d nearly been having a pleasant breakfast, until his dad had to go and ruin it. Spike knew he owed him for letting Angel stay, so he’d laid off of him for once. They’d even had a good laugh together, before the bastard had to start in on the university song and dance.
For the last sodding time, he wasn’t going to uni. He didn’t fucking need to go to uni. The Dingoes were getting bigger, and he could feel that something was right around the corner for them. If his father didn’t think that was a suitable career goal, too fucking bad. Spike was tired of bending over backwards trying to please a man who was clearly not capable of being pleased. It was a wonder the prick’s underlings hadn’t all blown their bloody brains out by now.
Because it was good enough for Spike, playing with the Dingoes. More than. For the first time, he could see a future for himself somewhere. And it was good enough for Angel, whose standards were considerably higher than his own.
Angel. Spike spared a glance at his speedometer, and let off the gas. Poof would probably cry like a little girl if Spike wrecked the bike. Or himself.
Spike turned himself around at the next pullout. He still wanted to kill something, but it was probably best that he get back. It was cruelty to abandon Liam to his stuff-shirted father. Probably start asking him what his life plans were, and he’d make Angel feel bad.
Maybe he and Peaches could flee the house, go to the movie theater for the evening. They could do naughty things in the back row. Spike smiled. Yeah, that was a much better plan.
~*~*~*~
“Hey, pet,” Spike greeted, swinging into the room by the doorframe. He startled Angel, who immediately shut his sketchbook. “What’s that?”
“Oh…nothing important.” Angel put the sketchbook aside. He’d never shown Spike anything he drew. His art had always been his private hobby, one that his family never understood. Faith hardly ever even saw his sketches. “Where did you go?”
“Took the bike out for a spin, clear my head. I was pissed at dad.”
“Yeah…I heard.”
Spike looked mildly repentent. “Oh. Sorry if we woke you.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, maybe you should try to—” Spike’s face darkened in a way that didn’t bode well for the rest of that sentence. Angel jumped ship on the thought.
Instead, he stood and pulled Spike in for a kiss, trying to make up a little for his rejection of Spike in bed last night. As he’d expected, Spike immediately plastered himself against Angel.
“So, what do you want to do tonight?” Angel grinned as Spike rubbed against him.
Spike snorted good-naturedly. “What do you think?”
“Mmm…Parcheesi?” Angel laughed when Spike rolled his eyes and jabbed him in the ribs.
“Let’s go see that big summer blockbuster. If you blow me during the chase scene, I won’t have to keep quiet.”
Angel barked a laugh, but just as he opened his mouth to retort, a voice floated up the stairs.
“William? Are you home? If that is you, you boys should put on some real clothes. Something without holes or safety pins, preferably. The three of us are going out to dinner.”
Angel tried to conceal a grin as Spike’s forehead dropped against his chest in frustration, hands fisting on Angel’s shirt. Spike was muttering some very rude things about his father’s parentage.
“Will? I know you hear me!”
Spike’s head jerked up, and he started to bellow directly into Angel’s ear. “Al-bloody-right, you fucking wanker! Never gonna get shagged, thanks to you, but you don’t have to natter me to death before I die of blue balls!”
Angel cringed. He suspected he now had permanent hearing damage. Also, Spike…didn’t know the meaning of ‘too much information.’
“We can do dinner, then the movie by ourselves,” Angel offered. Spike took the olive branch grudgingly.
“I suppose we have no choice. Bloody kill-joy. But now, it’s got to be a really great blow job, yeah?” Spike grinned charmingly, tongue teasing out between his teeth.
Angel laughed. “I’ll make it a really great one. But in the car, not the movie theater. Someone might see.”
“You’re such a girl,” Spike scoffed as he headed towards the bedroom. Angel laughed, but cuffed him on the back of the head for good measure.
~*~*~*~
Spike twirled a noodle around his fork and scowled at the dirty look he was receiving from Angel. The hundred and twenty-third one of the night.
Personally, Spike thought all of his digs on the old man had been brilliant. Elegant, even. The art of blunt snarking and pointed ridicule was sadly underrated. Every time he popped daddy dearest with a particularly good piece of biting wit, Angel side-eyed him like he was being immeasurably rude. Which, he clearly didn’t realize, was the whole point. Angel had even gone so far as to kick him under the table when Spike had asked his father if his newest bint was old enough to vote.
No sense of humor. The two of them were now blathering on about something excessively dull, while Spike picked sullenly at his pasta.
“So, Liam, this will be your final year in school?”
“Yeah, I’m finally a senior.” Angel flashed that thousand-watt grin. Spike really wanted to shag him. When he slid a friendly hand up Angel’s thigh, Angel swatted it away without looking towards him.
“What are your plans for after graduation?”
Spike rolled his eyes. There he went, bloody wanker.
“I’m not sure yet…I’m applying at UC Sunnydale, but I don’t really know what my chances are of getting in.”
Spike sat up and stared at Angel. He was applying for college? Why the hell didn’t Spike know that?
Spike’s dad side-eyed him pointedly as he addressed Angel. “You seem like a bright boy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Thomas looked like a constipated squirrel when he was trying to be polite. “What’s your intended course of study?”
At the question, Angel looked a little gassy himself.
“Um…business?” Angel was now working overtime to avoid the lasers Spike was concentrating on boring into his skull. Business?
The old tosser perked right up at that one. “Really?” His squirrel-smile widened into something more genuine. “Do you have any particular area of interest?”
“Well, my uncle is talking about leaving the shop to me when he retires, and he’d probably make me a partner before that, if I understood the financial end of things better. So I just want to learn more about small business management.” Angel finally gave Spike a glance out of the corner of his eye, but Spike’s dumbfounded expression must have frightened him away, because his eyes darted quickly back to Thomas.
“Well that’s really commendable, Liam. Most small business owners get into trouble because they really have no clue how to run their businesses, and don’t think to learn. This way you’ll have the practical knowledge and the theory. That will take you a long way. Well done.”
The prickly shock digging at the base of Spike’s skull over Angel’s revelation was joined by something icy and painful in his gut at his father’s praise.
Funny, but he’d lost his appetite.
~*~*~*~
Spike held Angel back as his father went in the house with a quizzical backwards glance. Angel guiltily kept his body perpendicular to Spike, hands in his pockets and eyes away. He bloody well knew what was coming.
“What the buggering fuck was that all about?”
Angel’s eyes jumped over to Spike and then skittered away. “Look, it’s nothing to get all excited about. I doubt I’ll even get in. I didn’t think it was important to—”
“Bollocks!” Angel flinched, but Spike didn’t care. He knew he was right. “It was important enough to tell someone you just met yesterday. You just—”
“Well you weren’t exactly contributing to pleasant dinner conversation. I just thought that he’d like that I was applying, you know, with it being his thing and all….”
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away. “Yeah, he loved it alright. Probably creamed his panties over the idea.”
Angel held his tongue, looking sullen, and they were awkwardly silent for a long time, just standing in the driveway in the descending darkness.
“We should probably get changed for the movie,” Spike said suddenly.
There was a guilty pause, and Spike’s stomach clutched. “Those chairs at the restaurant were awfully hard, Spike. I know I’m mostly healed up, but my tailbone kind of aches from sitting there for so long, and—”
Spike was seething. Rejected, again. “Bloody typical,” he muttered, and slammed into the house, leaving Angel to brood about his sore arse.
By the time Angel came upstairs, Spike was already in bed under the covers. When Angel murmured his name in the dark, Spike pretended as though he were already fast asleep.
Chapter 9
