THE PARTING GLASS
D M EVANS
Disclaimer - so not mine. All characters belong to Joss. And the lyrics...well I don't even know. The Parting Glass is public domain at this point.
Rating - Eh, FRM (let's call it mature for some bad language and sexually suggestive naughtiness)
Time Line - Post NFA (AtS/BtVS X-Over)
Feedback - Yes please - some flirtations but no real pairings
Summary - St. Patrick's day in Boston, 2005.
Author's Note - Written for St Patrick's Day using Challenge in a can
http/ challenge prompts were Spike, culture shock, lotion
"All this fiddle shite is going to drive me nuts," Spike groaned, slugging back his green beer. He wove on his chair, a piece of real estate no one dared to give up in O'Shaughnessy's, which was packed to the gills with people wearing Kiss Me, I'm Irish buttons and leis of shamrocks. Boston was the place to be for St. Paddy's day.
"You can't come to an Irish bar and bash on our music, Spike," Angel said, waving off a man who thrust a collection jar under his nose, collecting for the IRA.
"Oh, piss on you," Spike slurred then staggered to his feet, lurching toward the sign that read 'beer recyclers' with a big arrow pointing to the restrooms.
"Of all people to survive the big attack, it had to be him," Angel moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I honestly think you'd miss him if he were dust," Giles said, taking a deep swallow of Guinness.
"Why did you even invite the Englishman?" Connor asked as Buffy approached the table with Dawn and Faith in tow. "I mean, Giles is cool but Spike?"
Angel shrugged, pouting at his empty mug. "It's fun to watch him moaning about all the culture shock. Does him good to realize the Irish rule and the English only think they do." He smirked. "No offense, Giles."
"None taken...for tonight." Giles saluted him with the beer mug.
"Did I actually hear you say Giles was cool?" Buffy asked, a sloppy smile on her face, her eyes glazed.
"He is," Connor argued. "He's funny."
"You're like toasted, aren't you?" Buffy shot him a dubious look.
Connor curled a lip at her.
Buffy turned to Angel, pulling him back as he was escaping to get another Guinness. "Hold up. I've got a button for you," she said and jammed it home, nearly pinning flesh as well as shirt.
Angel looked at it, his heavy brow furrowing. "Kiss Me Shamrocks?"
Faith snorted while Buffy bobbed her head. "I got one for Spike, too. Where'd he go?"
Angel pointed to the restroom. "He has the bladder of a hamster."
"I didn't know vampires even needed to do that. You're dead," Faith said.
"What goes in, must come out. Besides, the demon has a metabolism." Angel scowled at his empty mug again. "I need more beer."
"I'll get it," Buffy said, grabbing his mug.
"We were heading to the bar anyhow," Faith said, with an expansive wave towards the bar.
"I don't get a pin." Connor pooched out his lower lip at Buffy.
"You don't need one. You got the shirt," Buffy flicked his lip and started pushing through the crowd.
"I love the shirt," Dawn said, then slithered through the bodies after her sister.
Connor smoothed a hand over his shirt that read When Your Mother Warned You About the Irish, Did She Mention Me by Name? He nodded. "It's a cool shirt."
Angel just rolled his eyes. "I can't believe this button."
"If you get lucky, maybe Buffy will kiss your shamrocks," Connor replied, knocking back his black and tan. "If I'm lucky, Faith will kiss mine."
Angel's dark eyes widened and Giles nearly snorted beer up his nose. "I'm not even related to you," the vampire groaned, poking a finger against Connor's chest.
"Oh please, I'm so my father's son it's not funny," Connor replied, sourly.
"He's got a point, Angel," Giles said and Angel had something new to brood over.
The girls came back with a tray of alcohol and distributed it.
"Still no Spike?" Buffy pouted. "What did he do? Fall in?"
"I couldn't get that lucky," Angel said as the band broke into Black Velvet Band. Lorne was up on stage singing with them, giving all new meaning to the 'wearing of the green.'
The crowd started parting before their table and a frantic-eyed Spike surged forward. A billow of smoke exited his mouth before his words. "Blood hell, this crappy beer's making me piss green."
"Poor thing." Buffy pinned a button reading, Kiss me, I'm not Irish but look how cute I am, on Spike's shirt.
"I bet dancing will help," Dawn proclaimed, hauling the distraught vampire off towards the dance floor where Willow and Kennedy were dancing with Xander and Andrew.
"I didn't think this stuff would really make you piss green," Faith said, swinging into Spike's vacated seat. She waggled her mug of green beer.
"It won't...unless I add a little enchantment." Giles flashed a cheeky grin.
"See?" Connor had vindicated look on his face. "I told you he was fun."
"Point for you." Buffy sat on Angel's lap. "I think my sister is flirting with Spike."
"What was your first clue, B? Her wiggling her ass in Spike's crotch?" Faith smirked, pointing to the dance floor. Buffy looked horrified.
"Beer is bad," she said in drunken solemnness.
The lead singer of the band called for attention as the last song faded away. "We're going to have our first drawing so I hope you all put your names in at the door. How about you, sweetie?" He held out a jar full of folded paper to a big-breasted blond. "You pull the first name."
She giggled and handed it over with all the class of Vanna White turning a letter.
He read off the name. "Connor Reilly, come on up to the stage and get your prize."
Blue eyes bright, Connor wended his way there.
The singer looked at him suspiciously. "You're twenty-one?" he asked dubiously.
"Of course," Connor said, not adding that he was twenty-one in the same way Dawn was; thanks to Willow's skill with faking things with a computer and little bit of magic. Connor came back with the gift box. It had a tag reading, 'adults only.'
"I'm afraid to know," Angel said.
Connor opened it. "It's his and hers." He pulled out a feather tickler, some green glow in the dark condoms, a little tube of motion lotion and a green thong with a sparkly rhinestone shamrock that would ride just above the buttocks. He looked at Faith picturing her in them. He held up the tickler. "Interested, Faith?"
Her raven eyebrow cocked up as the dark red slash of her lips twisted into a smirk. "You're a little young...and skinny."
Connor shrugged, re-packing the box. "Maybe but I have the strength and endurance of a vampire," he replied and Angel slapped a hand over his face, half hiding his 'you can't be my son' expression.
Faith's eyes gleamed. "Really?"
"Want to find out?" Connor's smile was wide and hungry.
"Ewww, I don't want to hear this," Buffy made a face. "No mating rituals of the dark and perverted."
"I don't think we need to hear from you on that," Faith shot back and Buffy's face reddened.
"I'll be very put out if I have to give up my seat to move to a safe distance," Giles said, eyeing the Slayers sourly.
"Can't you just like seal Buffy's mouth with magic, Giles ?" Connor asked, waving a hand in front of Buffy's face.
Buffy tried to catch one of his fingers with her teeth. "Why not seal Faith's mouth instead?"
"Because I have high hopes for that mouth later," Connor said as if it should be totally obvious.
Buffy leaned back against Angel, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you sure you're related to him?"
"Well, his mother was not exactly...the faithful type," Angel said with a wag of his head. "But again, I can't get that lucky. I was just like that at his age."
Connor shot him the bird as their sweaty friends returned from the dance floor and tried to shove onto their table.
"I'm so glad we decided to get together," Willow bubbled, her green eyes slightly unfocused.
"This really was something we needed," Giles said, more relaxed looking than he'd been in a long time.
"We are family after all," Xander said.
Angel perked up, recognizing the song that was starting. "This song is perfect for the moment, for telling friends how much they mean...and for remembering those who aren't with us any more. I think we should sing along, me included and I apologize in advance, and remember our family who couldn't be here," he said with all the melancholy of a true Irishman. "This is for Wes, Cordy, Joyce, Jenny, Gunn, Fred, Tara, Anya, and Doyle."
Through glistening eyes and lips trembling with both joy and sorrow, they all joined in.
Oh, all the comrades e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away. And
All the sweethearts e'er I had, they'd wished me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not, I
Gently rise and softly call, Goodnight and joy be with you all.