Rating: R/Not Worksafe.
Warnings: Foul language, frottage, dry-humping, mentions of past sexiness, and manpire-on-manpire action.
Summary: Prequel to my WIP Acceptable Losses. Angel and Spike find themselves trapped in a car down a snowy embankment. What are two delectable manpires to do?
The first thing Angel awoke to was an assault on his senses. His nose was mere inches from his rental car's overflowing ashtray. Two empty soda cups, both Spike's, had been used as receptacles for snack wrappers and chip bags. Groaning, Angel pushed himself upright behind the wheel of the mid-sized sedan. He reeled slightly from his blurred vision; his sight was a haze of dull grey for a few moments before he could orientate himself.
Angel remembered driving down the long, poorly lit backroad on their way to Seattle. It would have been easier to have taken a plane, but without the benefit of Wolfram and Hart's necro-tempered aircraft or enough money to charter a private flight, Angel made the decision that a rental car was the only way to reach his destination. He had been asked to investigate the sudden infestation of Narbrach demons in a shipping facility owned by an old client. Spike had decided to tag along too; Angel was not sure why the blonde wanted to go along on the mission, but the younger vampire had been acting suspiciously ever since he reappeared in L.A. after the fight with the Senior Partners. Whatever Spike's reasons, Angel refused to pay him for being a glorified hitchhiker. Though Connor had warned Angel about potential weather problems, Angel had not expected the sudden, blinding snowstorm that descended on the desolate road. Angel remembered growing nervous as the rental car's headlights reflected back at him off the snow, and Spike had been saying something. They had been talking, but Angel could not recall what the topic had been about. His last flash of memory was the car swerving off the road and tipping down an embankment.
From what Angel could tell, the car remained right-side up, but the trunk end was upraised and the rest of the car seemed to be buried under the snow, which was a mixed blessing. The thickly-packed snow only let little, watery pinpricks of morning light through the windows, but it also hid the car from potential passersby who could get help for the stranded vampires.
Angel turned his head towards the passenger seat to see Spike crumpled against the console. The blonde's arm was splayed under his head as he slumped in the too-loose seatbelt. From the cracked glass of the passenger side window and the blood smears on the console, Spike's head had connected with both.
"Spike?" Angel slowly undid his own seatbelt so he could reach out to grab Spike's shoulder.
The younger vampire stirred after a few gentle shakes. His voice came out slurred, "Did anyone get the number of that bleedin' truck?"
Angel, confused, questioned, "Did we get hit by a truck? I can't remember..."
"Huh?" Spike's slightly blackened eyes glanced towards Angel.
"We've been in an accident. I think we're stuck in a ditch. Do you remember what happened?"
"Sorry," Spike said with a few labored breaths as if he was trying to clear his unfocused mind, "I'm at a Sesame Street level of comprehending what you just said, mate. Grover's blue, Elmo's red, and the Count isn't a real vampire..."
Angel sighed and leaned back in his seat as much as he could with the weird tilt the car was in. He closed his eyes momentarily and listened, barely hearing the splattering thumps of melting snow falling on the car's roof from the trees above. It was disconcerting to be surrounded by sun and potentially sharp wood.
Spike made a few attempts to sit up in his own seat before realizing something was amiss, "My arm's broken..."
Gingerly sliding his shattered arm from the console, Spike cradled the limb against his chest with his uninjured arm.
"Let me see?" Angel reached out again, but Spike turned away, sullenly. Angel huffed, "Stubborn brat."
After a few moments, Spike spoke up, "Did you run over a deer or hit something in the road?"
"No, I don't think so," Angel answered, "I remember we were talking about something and then..."
The atmosphere in the car changed at that moment. Spike, though he tried to appear nonchalant, slid a few inches closer to the passenger side door. Angel stared at Spike, realizing that the blonde was no longer willing to meet his gaze. Angel placed his hands on the steering wheel, and that was when the fog began to lift, and he began to remember what had transpired.
Retirement had not been something that had come gracefully to Angel. He knew that, realistically, he only had himself to support. Connor had scholarships and the aid of his "second family"- the Reillys- to help him through Stanford. Angel had always hoped that Connor would attend Notre Dame, but that was for another boy, another life. His son was happy, well-adjusted, and extremely capable; just looking at Connor filled Angel with so much pride. However, Connor had not needed his birth-father's assistance since he was an infant.
Angel had a hard time finding his way. His friends were gone, even the ones that remained alive preferred to stay away from him after all he had asked of them. The most sadly ironic part was that the person whose company he could have done without always seemed to be hanging around; so when Spike asked to join on this mission to Seattle, Angel did not fight with him about it. Spike had always been weird, but lately, it seemed he was even weirder. He seemed to smile a little bit more than usual. Even on the car ride, Spike did not fight about the radio stations or nag about being the one to drive; he sat, ate snacks, and just wanted to talk. Angel really was not surprised by the talking part because Spike never seemed to shut up, but the blonde was bringing up good memories instead of needling Angel about his big bad past.
Spike had asked Angel if he remembered Calais where they had found a nunnery headed by a Mother Superior who happened to be a Slayer. It started off as a terrible night, but by the end Angelus and William had had a decent laugh, even if they had to strategically retreat. Then, Spike wanted to reminisce about the week they stayed in Bath with Darla and Drusilla in a lovely hotel. The weather had been abysmal, so they stayed in, telling stories and feeding off one another to stave off hunger pains. Finally, Spike brought up the one time Angel had hoped the blonde had forgotten. The foursome of vampires had made it to Toulouse, and they took over a beautiful villa, complete with a flowering orchard and manicured gardens. One night, when it had been particularly clear outside, Angelus took William to a pub to find some sport; they roused five kinds of hell before stumbling back to the villa, drunk on excitement, blood, and wine. Somehow, the two vampires found themselves swimming nude in one of the garden fountains beneath a copse of pear trees. In the dark, with hushed gasping and rough cries, surrounded by murky water, Angelus took the last piece of virginity that William had left to offer. It would be the first and only time the two had ever had intercourse. It was a memorable night, but it was not one that Angel could let himself enjoy.
When Spike had sensed that Angel had grown uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, the blonde had loosened his seatbelt and leaned over to kiss Angel's cheek, attempting to press his body closer to the older vampire. That was when Angel lost control of the car, sending it into a ditch. Angel mentally kicked himself for allowing himself to get so startled. He just had not been prepared for that kind of display of affection. Now, Angel looked over at Spike, who was still forlornly holding his broken arm, and did not know what to say to him. Spike appeared young and more than a little sad.
"I'm tired of being alone," Spike said, exhaling a breath. His words hung heavily in the icy air.
Angel could only nod in agreement, "Me too."
"My whole life... People have come in and gone out, and I never felt like I had any say in it, but I thought," Spike swallowed the lump in his throat, "I thought that, for once, I was going to be proactive."
"So you kissed me?"
"Well, yes," Spike tilted his head slightly. He would have looked more handsome had it not been for his bruised face and the gash creeping into his hairline. "I was dying of old age waiting for you to figure it out."
"Me?" Angel glared at him. "You've been hanging around, being more than your fair share of annoying, and that was what? The signal that you wanted me to fuck you?"
"No fucking involved, Peaches," Spike's fingers twitched in a way that indicated he was aching for a cigarette.
Angel turned in his seat slightly, so that he could look at Spike directly, "What then? You want to be 'friends?' What happened to 'You can never be friends?'"
Spike mulled over that thought for a moment before speaking, "I want something more, Liam. You know what I mean..." When Angel still appeared rather skeptical, Spike continued, "No one ever bloody sticks around. They all leave... but the two of us, whether we like it or not, keep finding one another. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"It means that the Universe has a funny way of torturing me," Angel groused.
The look of hurt that momentarily crossed Spike's features rammed into Angel's guilty conscience like a wrecking ball, but the expression was only a brief flicker before turning quickly to brassed off.
Spike kicked at the console and tried to turn away from the other vampire, "Fine. Be that way, wanker. You wouldn't know a good thing if it bit you in the face."
"You're acting like a child- Hey, stop kicking! This is a rental," Angel grabbed Spike's uninjured arm and tried to turn him around again, "So help me, I will find a way to put you in the trunk!"
"Piss off!" Spike twisted under Angel's grip but only succeeded in jostling his broken arm around too much. Holding back a grunt of pain, Spike clenched his teeth, "Bugger."
"Do you see what you did? It's bad enough we're stuck in this ditch because you have the emotional stability of a thirteen-year-old boy, but now you're crippled, and I'm the one who has to take care of you," Angel slipped his hand under Spike's jacket lapel and began to push the leather off the blonde's shoulders.
"You don't have to take care of me. You never did before, so why start now? Didn't even put me on the bloody payroll at Wolfram and Hart. I had to steal just to survive."
"Oh, cry some more, William. You could have gotten all the blood you needed from the company storage, and that's all you need to survive," Angel replied as he none-too-gently yanked Spike's duster from underneath him.
Spike shivered a bit as the cold air hit his bare lower arms. His injured arm was completely greenish-purple from bruising, and the broken bone, while it was protruding, had not pierced through his skin. It would mend in a few days with some proper feedings and some field-dressing.
Spike retorted, "Where was I to sleep? I didn't get a swank penthouse, remember?"
Angel grabbed Spike's broken arm and pulled it towards him with a growl, "Did you ever try sleeping in one of the cars you stole? Or, you know, you could have tried a little something called 'asking politely.'"
"I asked for an office!" Spike yelped as Angel field-set his broken arm with his necktie and one of the cars floor mats, "You didn't make your friends ask--"
"You're not my friend," Angel realized it was cruel thing to say, but a part of him believed Spike deserved it. "You're just... you."
The interior of the car became very silent and still for several moments, save for the snapping of a few pine boughs as the snow that settled on them grew too heavy.
"Maybe I should have put you on the payroll," Angel relented, but Spike did not seem moved. "You were helping and being a part of the team, so you deserved to be treated like it."
Spike lifted his chin slightly, "Does that mean you owe me back-pay?"
"Not on your undead life."
"You could take me out to dinner," Spike leaned back in his seat. "Maybe a movie? It's the least you could do since I got banged up on your mission."
"I'm not taking you out on a date," Angel said and then added, "And no one asked you to come along!"
"What happened to you being tired of being alone too?"
"I am so damn tired right now."
Spike sighed, "Then do something about it. I did. Granted, what I did got us into a wreck, but at least I tried, didn't I?"
Angel felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, "What if you don't like what I try?"
"I'm fairly flexible; chances are I'll do anything once. Sadly, sometimes the once is all I get," Spike smirked, "because some big Irish bullies are too pig-headed to realize how fun topping me can be."
Angel reached over and cupped his hand underneath Spike's jaw, drawing the smaller man into a rough kiss. Angel bit down slightly on Spike's lower lip, eliciting several choice words from the blonde.
As Spike lifted up on his t-shirt, he stopped, "It's bloody freezing."
"Yeah, but we'll make the best of it," Angel responded, deciding it was best if they both kept their clothes on for the time being.
Hitting the lever on his seat, Angel reclined further away from the steering column, allowing Spike to carefully maneuver into his lap while the blonde kept his injured arm out of harm's way. Angel placed his large hands on Spike's slim hips, watching as Spike began to grind his crotch against his grandsire's. Through denim and cotton trousers, both vampires were hard already, and Angel began to regret not giving second thoughts to that night in Toulouse.
"I wish this mission'd been in a warmer climate," Spike moaned as he felt Angel's hips buck upwards to meet his, the pressure and friction from the fabric between them was almost maddening.
"But then I wouldn't get to see these perky little buds," Angel reached up to pinch one of Spike's stiff nipples through his t-shirt.
"Don't talk about my chest like I have breasts," Spike frowned, "It's creepy."
"Well, with the right corset--" Angel's train of thought was derailed as Spike bent down to capture his lips in a kiss.
Angel wondered why he had never thought of Spike this way before; sex, even through clothing, was much more fun than fighting all the time. Angel's mind began racing with images of what he would like to do to the blonde currently writhing on his lap. As Spike bounced, Angel imagined being buried to the hilt in the younger vampire's body, his lithe form glistening from massage and warmed from relaxing in front of a stoked fireplace. Angel remembered the feeling of Spike's tight ass around his dick, how William demurred at first but quickly turned into a little firebrand the moment a stiff cock was introduced into that tiny expanse of no-man's land; Angel wanted that feeling again.
With the inside of the snowbound car suddenly stifling hot, Angel held onto Spike's waist as they frotted against one another with quick, jerking movements. Their bound erections spilled out their climaxes, and the cries of mutual orgasm died down to nothing more than panting.
Angel let his hand rest on the soft curve of Spike's belly, "That was worth the dry-cleaning bill."
Spike laughed softly, "It's not coming out of my back-pay."
Not wanting the innuendo to pass by, Angel replied, "I think you're going to be on your back quite a lot."
Spike teasingly shook his head.
"I want dinner and a movie first," Spike smiled, batting his eyelashes coyly as he snuggled up to Angel's chest.
Angel had a snarky reply, but he thought better of it and instead relented, "Fine, but I'm picking the movie."
"It's a date."
The End... (Until all the rest, of course.)
- Snowbankrupt :: a Spangel Ficlet.