Boy Oh Boy
Disclaimer: The idea and subsequent influences are mine.
Author's Note: This story is going to be based on a sort of AU idea with some OOC portrayals thrown in. This first chapter also details a bit of c/p and clearly establishes that yes, this will contain spanking and spanking like themes. So if that doesn't appeal to you, this story is probably one you should pass on by. And with that all out of the way...on with the story.
"Can't even pretend to be civilized, can you?"
"You could have knocked first ya know."
"It's the kitchen! There is no door to the kitchen you jerk!"
"And your point?"
He walked, very, very slowly, across the floor, footsteps taken with the same amount of dread as a man on his way to the gallows.
"Would you tell your—him to go put some clothes on!"
Grinning for all he was worth, the pale, naked form leaned back against the counter-top behind him and sipped leisurely from the cup he was holding in one hand.
"Spike…for the love of—why?"
"I'm comfy. It's not my fault little Miss prudie over here don't like it. If she doesn't want to gander at my jiggly bits then she doesn't have to look, now does she?"
"The kitchen is where I go to eat, not catch an eyeful of your British twig and berries Spike!"
"More than you've seen in a while I bet."
"Oh, you know what—"
He reached out and caught the charging woman by her left arm, shaking his head at her.
"Cordelia, why don't you go out to eat? Here—take my card, it's on me."
She huffed indignantly and shook herself free from his grip, but still accepted the plastic credit card she was being offered without hesitation.
"Fine—but he better have something on by the time I get back or so help me I'm getting some holy water and we'll see if he has anything left to 'jiggle'."
"You hear that? She's threatenin` my person. That's not very nice."
"Shut up Spike. And that card is just for lunch Cordy, not—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.
She was already halfway to the front door and he sighed watching her, trying to remember how much he still had in the bank.
"You never let me have your credit card. I'm feeling neglected GrandDaddy."
Angel swung his head and glared at the unnatural blonde to his right.
"Spike—go upstairs and get dressed. This is not your house; you can't just walk around like that."
"No, it's a hotel."
He knocked back the rest of his beverage, his lips slightly stained red from it.
"I got hot, so sue me. Ain't like you bother keeping air-conditioning on in this place."
"Because it'd cost a fortune. And maybe you wouldn't be so hot if you wouldn't go around in that silly leather getup all the time."
"Well see? I'm letting my body breathe, you should be pleased."
"You have two seconds to do as I say."
"Isn't the magic number always five? Ow!"
Angel brought the back of his hand down across the nude butt cheeks of the smaller male, crisply.
"That was not two seconds!"
"It took me two seconds to swing my arm, if you'd been moving already and not mouthing off you'd have missed my hand."
The uncomfortable sting from the smack was just enough to make Spike reach back to rub at his bottom.
"I am this close to taking you over my knee William."
His blue eyes widened up enough to see the bright whites as Angel stared down at him, using his "real" name.
"Do you want that?"
"Not from you…"
Angel took one step closer to Spike, his eyes starting to glow a bit yellow.
"Little boy, you keep on testing me—"
Letting out what sounded very much like a girly squeal, Spike darted around the big man, his hands protectively clutching at his bum.
Sinking down onto plush couch cushions, Angel rested his head back against one and shut his eyes.
He wasn't going to make it.
Having survived two, no make that three apocalypses, being sent to hell for a hundred years, and losing his soul, he was going to be defeated by a skinny English brat with a bad dye job.
Giles and Buffy had told him that it would be at least three months before Spike could safely return to Sunnydale.
Three months with one of the most infuriating people Angel had ever known, what was the worst that could happen?
Officially it'd been just six days since Spike had arrived, but it felt like sixty, or six hundred.
He was difficult just to be difficult whatever chance he got, and antagonized everyone; Cordelia being his favorite target, at least humanly speaking.
Angel, though, was the only one Spike tormented, merrily, every hour on the hour; he took great pride in doing so, and it showed.
Maybe this was all a part of his never-ending penance for his crimes, but this wasn't just punishment or even torture, this was unbearable, it was—it was too cruel for words.
It would be so easy for him to just kick Spike out, let the monster fend for himself, yet he knew he couldn't, for more than one reason.
He dropped his head down, the depressing bleakness of his current situation being felt in full, and then lifted it right back up as soon as he heard the front doorbell being buzzed.
A client, hopefully, which was good news.
He needed the business, both as a distraction and for the money. Spike was turning out to be a not so cheap guest to entertain.
Angel forced his body to stand up and he put on as friendly a fake smile that he could before he got to the door.
"Is this—Angel's Investigations?"
"Yes it is, and I'm him. How may I help you?"
"Um, wow, you're a lot bigger than I thought you would be…okay—I—"
"Happy now? God—you're always bossing me around."
"Spike—we have company."
Angel spoke at the blonde through tightly clenched teeth.
"Oh, right then—gotta do your little hero act and all, have at it."
Spike flopped down into a chair with his legs spread open somewhat vulgarly.
"I'm sorry, he's—not important. You were saying?"
"Yeah—I—I don't…I'm not sure how to say, I mean, ask this."
"Could start with using whole sentences, you know, I find that helps."
"Spike, I swear to God—"
The blonde smirked at the livid stare the man shot his way.
"Did you know a woman named Darla?"
Spike perked immediately up at the question as Angel's eyes smoldered with cautious curiosity.
"Yes, I did, a long time ago."
Angel then found himself staring down at a small hand quickly thrust out towards him in way of greeting.
"Hi—it's nice to meet you. My name is Connor…I think you're my Dad."
Spike blinked once and then looked angrily at Angel, hurt and offended.
"Why am I always the last ruddy one to know about these things!"