Angel rolled onto his side, trying to find a cool spot on the bed once again. He had started off with one thin sheet, but after persevering for a long, sweltering hour, it had been kicked off of his sweaty legs. He was sorely tempted to even strip off the pair of boxers he wore - all that he had on - but he refused, partly because he knew that it would make little difference, and partly because he would be lowering himself to Spike's level.
"You're such a boyscout," Spike had taunted him. And Angel had been treated to an unwanted full frontal flash while Spike shimmied into his side of the bed. Okay, maybe that needed to be explained. Surely Spike au naturel shouldn't bother him nearly so much, especially since he was at least under a sheet. They'd done pretty much everything - well, as Spike had put it, everything that happened in Brokeback Mountain, "minus the sheep shagging and marrying bits". But there was something to be said about modesty. Modesty was good. Dirty nakedness should be reserved for dirty naked fun time. And tonight was NOT one of those nights. Not when it seemed like the temperature was two hundred degrees!
Angel glared at the clock again. 1:34 am. The fates were just cruel. He couldn't sleep in this heat. Normally that would just be an excuse to jump someone's bones, but in this heat he felt more like peeling off his own skin. Spike, on the other hand, could sleep through anything, the bastard.
Angel blinked, and rolled over to look at Spike. The blonde was still hunched up, as if sleeping. But he'd definitely spoken. "What?"
"You're brooding so loud I can't sleep," Spike grumbled. He opened one eye to give Angel a mean look, then rolled over a little. "What's the matter?"
"If you have to ask, you're too stupid to understand."
"I'll take that as pissed-off Angel speak for 'I'm pissed'," Spike said. "What I meant was, since when do vampires feel the heat anyway?"
"Since the stupid AC is broken," Angel muttered.
Spike sat up and touched Angel's face. "You're going daft. The AC is fine. But you're burning up."
"I am?" Angel tried to feel for himself, but everything was hot to him. He sank back onto the bed while he watched Spike get up and leave the bedroom. What a view.
"I'm sick," Angel said to himself, feeling pitiful. "I haven't been sick in... well, in... I'm not supposed to ever get sick. But I guess vampires can."
"I'll take care of you," Spike called from somewhere outside the room.
Angel sighed. "What're going to do? Make me chicken noodle soup? Does that even work for a vampire fever? Maybe if it was full of blood. But I'm not like you - I don't like my blood full of other stuff. Chunks of chicken and lumps of potatoes. Noodles."
"Just gonna cool you off," Spike said, returning to the bedroom. He crawled over Angel's body, hooking his fingers in Angel's shorts and pulling them off his legs.
"Christ, Spike," Angel mumbled. "What's that saying? Starve a cold, fuck a fever?"
Spike laughed. "Your brain must be cooking, mate. Up you go." He helped Angel up out of bed and led him to the bathroom, where the shower was running.
The water was cool on Angel's skin - almost especially cold, and he shivered.
"This will get you back to normal," Spike chattered, making sure that Angel was underneath the spray of water. "You know, room temperature, more or less."
Angel shivered again and rubbed his skin. He was grateful for Spike's care, but it didn't make much sense. "Vampires don't get sick," he said.
"Pshh. You're no normal vampire. You're superb at getting sick somehow. If you weren't naked as a jay bird I'd think you had another of those demon parasite things on your taint."
"I hate you."
"That's not what 'little Angel' says."
"Little?" Angel grabbed one of Spike's hands that had been keeping him steady. "That's not how you described it last night." He moved the hand lower. "Remember?"
"Well," Spike swallowed hard, "I think you're feeling better."