Subject: [BA_Gutter] Charming Billy NC-17 pairing Spangel From: "spikesfool2003" Date: Mon, 07 Feb 2005 00:28:16 -0000 Charming Billy Chapter I It was one of those yawns that made your eyes water and your face ache. Angel thought his jaw was going to come unhinged. He ducked his head sheepishly, darting a look around the conference table to see if anyone had caught his impolite gaffe before he managed to hide it with a covering hand. Negotiations were delicate things and boredom could easily be a deal breaker. Thank God, the Mu'uaxa spokesperson was engrossed in his notes, hurriedly turning pages looking for the next point in his presentation. He'd obviously missed the jaw-cracking display. Angel cast a quick glance at Wesley, then Fred. Damn, how could anybody look that polite and attentive in the face of such mind numbing malarkey? But at least they hadn't noticed his lapse. A good thing, too, since he'd never hear the end of it if they'd caught him. It seemed the pair were always nagging him about something lately. Embarrassed by his childish inability to concentrate, Angel glanced hopefully toward Gunn sure he'd find the big man's eyes glazed and his head nodding. Angel couldn't be the only one bored out of his mind. Much to his chagrin, Gunn was industriously taking notes on the pad of paper provided for each person attending a meeting. It was the first time Angel had ever actually seen anybody do such a thing. He leaned forward a little and caught the outline of a tic tac toe square. A sigh of vindication escaped him at his discovery of a fellow suffer. Plus bonus, Gunn was too engrossed in his game to have seen the yawn. Angel couldn't help feeling pleased he'd gotten away with it. What a relief. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair trying to resist his next impulse. He knew it would lead to no good, but damn it, he couldn't help himself. Against his natural inclination to ignore what was unpleasant or unavoidable, his gaze flicked quickly to the Blonde Annoyance. Shit. He should have known better. A pair of amused blue eyes were watching him with barely suppressed glee. A finely shaped eyebrow lifted slowly, an entire conversation playing out with its expressive twitch. Angel could hear it clearly, down to the last sneering syllable. Bored are you, wanker? Never did have the concentration of a flea. Think the audience noticed you drooling all over the table like a great, slobbery Saint Bernard? Spike shifted in his chair and pursed his lips in a phantom kiss. Angel scowled at the little moron, then looked away. Not really worth it to rock the boat by replying in kind, though he had a brief impulse to cross his eyes and stick out his tongue. Over the last few weeks, they'd managed to maintain a somewhat prickly detente. One eyebrow wasn't enough to break the tenuous peace. Besides, Angel didn't want a fuss in front of the visiting fireman. It might look as though he couldn't keep his own people in line. That was to be avoided at all costs. Angel looked down quickly. Only his vampire hearing allow him to catch the almost inaudible snort of amusement, so low it was obviously meant for his ears alone. Spike was bored out of his mind and nearly comatose from the steady drone of voices in the warm room. The meeting was a right mind bender, no denying that. He'd only managed to keep his eyes open by bringing to bear every last ounce of his intense powers of concentration. Invented a little game, he did, to keep himself from nodding off. Simple, but bloody entertaining just the same. How many toothpicks could he poke in the big poof's carcass without any of them touching? Spike imagined Angel naked on a platter, sort of like a huge pig with an apple in his mouth and little bits of green stuffed around him. The toothpicks all had bright red cellophane decorations. Very festive. He'd gotten the count up to five thousand four hundred and six with the bastard looking like a right pincushion and the best parts still untouched, when he'd looked up to see Angel's mammoth yawn. It was just too bleeding funny to let slide. Spike had relinquished their daily squabbles recently having discovered a new and more entertaining way of tormenting Chief Stick- Up-His-Arse than matching him tirade for tirade. It had started as a bit of a lark. At one particularly nasty set to, Spike had simply thrown up his hands and walked out. Angel's dumbfounded reaction had been gratifying in the extreme. So, Spike did it again. And again. His transformation from hot head to cool customer left Angel more confused and pissed off at every encounter. Whenever Angel tried to pick a fight, Spike would slip on his mask and watch Moby Prick turn scarlet with repressed anger and vibrated like a giant red whale. Spike still hated him as much as ever, but it was bloody enjoyable playing with the Mick's head. Thinking that over, he substituted mind for head. Didn't want any confusion about his motives. It was hate he felt for the bastard, nothin' else. Spike ran a hand down unconsciously stroking his denim-clad thigh. Since the ghosting, he'd developed the need to constantly reassure himself he was still solid, a part of the real world. No one else being available to do the honors, he'd taken to touching himself when upset or in need of reassurance. Spike's return to the land of solid flesh had lead to a lot of nastiness. When two roosters hit the same ring and faced off, old animosities had exploded. But, once the initial I hate your guts, I'm gonna make life hell for you phase was overcome, things had settle down. Apart from their red-faced shouting matches at the drop of a stake, that is. Spike's present tactic had brought those to an abrupt halt. But, the yawn was too good to past up. Not his fault the prat couldn't stay awake with the adults. Spike waited expectantly for Angel to look his way again so he could pour a little more salt in the wound. Licking his lips, he wished he had a cigarette, but knew how that would be used against him. Bring Fred or Wesley down on his arse with some pompous lecture about behaving during meetings. Spike would happily give up his smoke for the chance to embarrass the shit out of Peaches. Angel was studying his manicure. He didn't want to be embarrassed in front of a roomful of people which Spike was more than capable of doing given the slightest chance. God knew what he might say or do to make Angel look like a fool. The thought made his hair stand on end. Angel restrained himself from the sudden impulse to pat at his head. Truthfully, he found himself vaguely disappointed by Spike's new passive persona. Pushed for a reason, he might have admitted to missing the spark that crackled between them when they hissed vitriol nose to nose. Hatred was such an exciting emotion. On second thought though, Spike would need a phone book to stand nose to nose with him. Angel allowed himself an internal grin. He'd always enjoyed towering over his volatile child, dominating him by sheer physical stature if nothing else. But domination didn't figure much in their present relationship. Angel was well aware Spike's pitiful impression of an adult was meant to make him angry. Knowing, however, didn't help. It worked every damn time. Plus, Spike's distracting new habit of touching himself in inappropriate ways at odd times was beginning to disturb Angel on a level he didn't quite understand. He'd had to restrain himself several times in the last week from slapping Spike's hands away from various parts of his anatomy. Angel might have found it almost titillating, if it hadn't been so obvious Spike was unaware of what he was doing. Angel shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he watched Spike caressing his own thigh with heavy-lidded pleasure, long lashes shadowing over his cheeks before his eyes popped fully open and focused on Angel. Fuck! The next thing you know he'd be masturbating in public. With a sharp intake of breath, Angel forced his mind away from such a disturbing picture and back onto the present mess. Maybe Spike baiting him this way was the first crack in the little idiot's facade. Angel was in the perfect mood for a go round with the bane of his existence, but not in public. It was something that needed privacy. Pushing back his chair, Angel stood up. He leaned over the conference table in the manner of one about to impart important information. Resting his palms on the polished wooden surface, he glanced around at his suddenly attentive audience. "I think we need to take a break in the proceeding. This meeting's running a little long and I have another appointment scheduled. Good day, Mr. Bretherton." Startled eyes blinked up at him. Though human in shape, Mu'uaxas displayed their emotions through changing skins tones. Amongst their own kind they were capable of carrying on a conversation without a single spoken word. The Mu'uaxa known as Mr. Bretherton turned a lovely shade of sky blue, indicating his displeasure. "But, Sir. This is quite important. I really must insist. I can't go back to my people without your agreement to....." Before the demon could finish his thought, Angel was striding out the door. After a moment of stunned silence, Spike rose gracefully and followed him, leaving pandemonium in his wake. The Mu'uaxa's complexion deepened towards navy as Fred and Wesley rushed to smooth his severely ruffled feathers. He began stuffing his papers angrily into a briefcase. "I'm confident we can settle this amicably," Wes assured him, laying a restraining hand on his arm. "We'll reschedule. I didn't realize Angel had another appointment. Entirely my fault." "Yes," Fred leapt in. "You mustn't be upset with Angel. He wouldn't leave unless it was important and if you'll only wait, we'll set up another meeting." "It would appear your two vampire champions are less than interested in my offer." The voice was mild, but the flickers of red and purple running intermittently through Mr. Bretherton's navy complexion spoke otherwise. "I'd be sorry to take drastic measures," he mused to himself, slipping away from Wesley's detaining grip. He chose to ignore the rest of the strident human squawking assaulting his ears to concentrate on the brief scene playing out in the hallway, visible through the conference room's windows. Spike wasn't about to lose hold of his new maturity over this, but fuck! He leaned in close, planting an insistent finger in Angel's chest. Was like pushing at Nelson's Column with a feather. Bloody arsehole was built like a brick.... Hmmm. That thought lead to no good. Spike hissed his objections through gritted teeth. "What the bloody hell was that about? That nasty little tosser means business. You can't walk out on him just 'cause you're bored. People are gettin' killed in the crossfire of his freakin' war." "Calm down." Angel put a condescendingly parental hand on Spike's rigid shoulder. He was suddenly determined to out-mature the little twit if it killed him. The feel of the quivering body under his palm sent a strangely erotic pulse to his groin. He moved a little closer forcing Spike to tip back his head to meet his eyes. Spike didn't like the way Angel was looming over him. He twitched away from the hand pressing into his shoulder. It was burning him. Stepping back he gave his head an angry shake. "Shove it, mate." "Come on, Spike. You're blowing this out of proportion. He'll be more anxious for our support if we string it out. I've got it under control. And this has nothing to do with boredom, moron." Spike gave him an incredulous glare. "You're playing with the proverbial here, mate. What if it goes arse over tits? What are you gonna do then? We need to go back in there, Angel, and hear him out." "I know what I'm doing, Spike. Trust me. They want our support in their little civil war. If we help the rebels, Bretherton and his buddies are finished and they know it." Spike ran his hands furiously through his hair rather than clamping them around the huge prat's throat to choke some sense into him.. He dropped them to his sides clenching them spasmodically into fists. He wanted to smack the condescending expression off Angel's face, but he wasn't about to lose his cool and put hands on him. "And why exactly are we gonna help these gits? Cause I'm not seeing it." "They've held the peace. I don't like their methods, but no innocent bystanders were dying before the rebels' insurrection. We'll protect the status quo to stop the slaughter." Spike studied him intently. "Status quo? Didn't think that's what we're about. Thought we were suppose to be helping the helpless...or hopeless...or some such fucking thing. You'd better know what you're doing here 'cause lives could be depending on it." "Sometimes you've got to compromise." The words tasted bitter on Angel's tongue, but he held Spike's gaze steadily. "Compromise? You've changed, Angel. This place has changed you. Never thought the great souled champion would bet people's lives on a dice throw." "You know I wouldn't do that," came the huffed reply. "Stop being a fucking drama queen. They'll sweat a little tonight and I'll wrap it up in the morning." "Got a bad feeling 'bout this one, mate. Don't wanna prick your little..... Ahhh humph." Spike ground to a halt blinking like a traffic light. His lips twitched and he turned his head quickly to cover the beginnings of an embarrassed grin. He absolutely didn't wanna prick Angel's anything. His prick was going nowhere near the wanker. Spike felt his cheeks warm at the idea. Angel was doing some blinking of his own. He watched Spike's face flush before he turned away, the word prick vibrating in the air between them. Angel ducked his head not sure if he was hiding a grin or his own blush. It was only a word after all. Why the hell were they both acting as though it were more? Angel glared at Spike. "No sense whingin' on about it then." Spike drew himself up. "You've made up your mind. Gimme a wave when you start drowning." With that, he stomped off down the hall, his duster flaring in a black eddy around him. So much for the chink in Spike's armor. Angel watched in disappointment as the other vampire disappeared into the elevator. That was no fun at all and to top it off, now he was worried about the negotiations. As much as he hated to admit it, Spike could be right. Lives hung in the balance. The Mu'uaxas had a cadre of powerful wizards working with them. A mistake at this stage could be deadly. Cursing himself, Angel strode off down the hall in the direction Spike had taken. Spike had headed straight for the Watcher's office. He reckoned the Englishman would come there as soon as he'd buttered the Mu'uaxa up enough to make his escape. Maybe between the two of them they could work up a strategy to overcome the balls up Angel had made of it all. Pretty Fred might come along and offer to help as well. A small smile fluttered around the corners of Spike's lips. He'd never admit it, but he had a soft spot for the sweet, little Kitten. Only one who'd given a damn whether he'd been pulled into hell or left to pull his pud as some kind of ghostly denizen of the mighty Wolfram and Hart. If she wasn't directly responsible for his return, it wasn't for lack of trying. Spike was roused from his musings as Wesley stormed in his office door followed closely by the prat in full squawkage denying any of it was his fault. "You must be joking." Wesley rounded on Angel with incredulous fury. "You've set negotiations back weeks if not put the kibosh on them completely. Excellent job, Angel. Would you care to explain why you chose to do such a thing when you know how important it is to placate these people? And I use the term people here in the most broad definition of the word, seeing they're actually a powerful tribe of demons and wizards." "Look, you're all making way too much of this. I told Spike and I'm telling you, I've got it under control. I'll close the deal tomorrow. No problems." "And what makes you think he'll come back tomorrow when you've so blatantly insulted him?" Gunn stuck his head in the office door. "Yeah, man. The guy was purple when he stormed outta there. And I mean really purple with red splotches. Fred and I tried to calm him down, but he kept mumbling something about vampires queerin' the deal and took off like his ass was on fire." Angel pursed his lips with chagrin as he walked to the bank of windows on the far side of Wesley's office. The twilight was greying out the sharp edges of the city. A myriad of lights glowed softly through the gathering gloom. This was all Spike's fault. If he hadn't made such a big deal of the yawn, he never would have broken up the meeting. Angel chose to ignore the fact that all Spike had down was raise and eyebrow and blow him a kiss. The rest had taken place in Angel's obviously overheated imagination. "Okay, maybe it was a mistake to leave like that, but I'll make it right. Set up a morning meeting and....." Angel turned to find three faces staring at him with varied degrees of disgust. Gunn and Wesley, arms crossed over chests stood near the desk. Spike had flung himself down on the couch that took up the far wall. One leg was thrown over the couch's arm. Spike's fingers trailed languidly over his chest. Angel could see the bump of one aroused nipple poking through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. "That does it." Angrily he strode across the office. Before anyone realized what he was about to do, he'd grabbed Spike by the front of the shirt and hauled him to his feet. "For Christ sake, stop doing that, you damned pervert." There was a moment of stunned silence, then Spike hit Angel hard in the chest with both palms causing him to release his hold and stumble back. Spike didn't know what had gotten into the great git but he wasn't going to be mauled about. "What the fuck are you talking about. You've totally lost it, mate." Before Wesley or Gunn could grab him, Angel was back towering over Spike, poking him hard in the breastbone with a rigid finger. "I'm not the one going around jerking off in public!" "Ouch, you great wanker. And come again?" An electric buzz filled the room. Later, Wes would remember all the hair on his head standing on end, his toes curling at the powerful jolt. The air around Spike and Angel rippled as both bodies seemed to blur slipping out of focus. A dense fog rose, shrouding the pair as they faded. After a moment, the fog dissipated and the figures solidified once more. The change that occurred in the space of those hidden seconds was mind boggling. "Holy Shit!" Gunn's gasp mirrored exactly what Wesley was thinking. Eyes round as saucers, the two men stared at the apparitions before them, unable to speak in their mutual consternation at the sight. William stepped back from the intrusive digit prodding his chest. He looked up with confusion at the large unkempt man towering over him. In his estimation, there was no reason so provocative it merited impoliteness and he intended to express that imperative. "My good Sir, that is quite a rude thing to do." He pushed the offending finger away. "Perhaps you don't intend it as such, but I must warn you, if you do not desist at once I will be forced to call for the authorities or take you in hand myself." Liam staggered slightly. He felt dizzy. Must have been those six glasses of rum punch he'd downed in succession. He grinned. Or maybe the pretty blonde bar maid had his head spinnin'. He was suddenly aware of someone pushing at his hand. He looked down in surprise to find a slight, tousle-haired man wearing gold-rimmed spectacles staring at him angrily. Compelling blue eyes sparked behind the glass. "My apologies, lad. Didn't mean to offend." He took a step back and looked around. "And where might this be? Seems another of my carouses has left me with no memory. Da'll be coming for me with the buggy whip if I'm not much mistaken." Knees abruptly threatening to buckle, Liam tottered to the large couch behind his young friend and threw himself down with a queasy groan. "Wee too much of the drink, then." His stomach heaved and he dropped his head quickly between his knees as he felt the bile slosh up into his throat. He swallowed deeply in an attempt to hold back the rush. "Bloody Hell!" "Really, Sir. There's no need to curse." William frowned at the other man's continued rudeness. "I say." He looked around in bewilderment. "Where is this place?" A wave of nausea swept through him. Before Wesley or Gunn could rush to his assistance, William stumbled over to collapse in a heap beside Liam. They sprawled shoulder to shoulder with matching green complexions. William's nostrils flared at the overpowering masculine scent wafting off the other man. He was use to a more genteel personal toilette, but before he could continue the thought, his stomach roiled in protest. Then, he was hanging forward with his head between his knees mirroring his companion in misery. Wesley and Fred exchanged horrified looks. When he was finally able to speak, the first words from Wesley's mouth were "Get Fred!" Gunn took off at a dead run. Unable to look away from the two men on the couch, he nearly went head first into the wall catching himself at the last second. "Is this what I think it is?" he questioned, trying to catch his breath from the near collision with the door jamb. Wesley ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm very afraid it is, Charles. Now, if you would get Fred, perhaps there's a way to put this to rights before it all goes arse over tits, as Spike would say." When the nausea had subsided, William pulled off his spectacles and tucked them into his breast pocket. He only wore them for reading or when working on his poems and he had the very strong impression, he wouldn't be needing them for the moment. Finding it somewhat difficult to breathe, he loosened the silk ascot at his throat and took a deep gulp of air to steady his shattered nerves. "I take it you've no idea what this is about," he whispered softly to his equally pale companion. Liam pushed the clump of hair that had escaped from his queue away from his face. "Kidnappers?" he hissed in a low voice. "You look like you've a wee bit of money about you, lad. What do you think?" William hastily patted his trousers. "I've still my pocketbook. But, of course, they would likely want more than I carry about my person." Liam nodded. He eyed the skinny man across the room with suspicion. " 'Haps, we should make a run for it. I can snap yonder boyo like a twig under me boot heel." William drew back to study the massive man crouched beside him. He had no doubt this person could do what he said. He looked dark and dangerous, yet there was also something warm and humorous twinkling in his brown eyes that lent itself to trust. "It appears we're in this adventure together, then." William's pulse quickened at the thought of taking part in a real adventure. "What would your name be, my friend. I'd like to know who is sharing my incarceration in the bowels of this devil's den." Liam grinned despite his stomach still dancin' a jig with his spleen. "Got a silver tongue on you, lad. Me name's Liam. And you?" "William." Liam frowned and shook his head. "Won't do. Too serious. I can see you've got a bit of the devil sparkin' in those blue eyes of yours. Not afraid to defend yourself when called to meet the line. Thought you were going to teach me my manners, there for a bit." Liam smiled warmly at the other man. Straightening his spine at the thought of being a devilish character, William shrugged. "Sorry to be a disappointment. It's my name." "Well...I'll call you Billy, then," Liam whispered close to William's ear. "Billy has a little of the Ole Ned in it and that suits just brilliant." William shivered at the warm breath tickling his ear. He was immensely pleased. He tried the name, liking the way it rolled on his tongue. Billy. It made him feel quite brave and jolly. No one could play fast and loose with Billy, he was someone to be reckoned with. Billy could snap a few twigs under his boot heels as well. He turned a dazzling smile on Liam. "Right, then. Liam and Billy. These desperate kidnappers are in for the fight of their lives." Clapping a large hand on William's knee, Liam returned the smile. "I've got your back, lad and you have mine." Across the room, Wesley watched the two heads bent together whispering softly. He tapped his foot with impatience. No telling what the they thought was going on, but he didn't like the suspicious looks they were sneaking at him. At the sudden picture of them attacking him and running off, Wesley was finally galvanized into action. "Please, don't worry. We'll have this sorted out in no time. I know this must be very confusing for you, but no one means you any harm." Wesley raised his hands placatingly to show he carried no weapons. Even from halfway across the room, he could see the muscles in Angel's thighs bunching as he prepared to launch himself through the space separating them. It was with a great sigh of relieve, Wesley saw Gunn, followed by Fred, burst through the door. "Oh. My. God! What have you done now?" Fred stared around her with a severe expression. William ducked his head in chagrin. "She's very pretty, but I've never heard a lady use the Lord's name in vain before." "By God, you've lead a very sheltered life then, Billy. The wenches I know could curse me under the tabletop." "Wenches?" ************************************* The beautiful lady known for some strange reason by the unlikely name Fred ran her blinking machine over Williams' body for the second time. He stood stiffly, arms wrapped tight around himself, chin tilted up to show his defiance of his gaolers and watched Liam being subject to a similar procedure by the man called Wesley. "There's no doubt about it," Fred said with a sigh. She laid her handy, dandy metabolism evaluator down on Wesley's desk. "They're human. I want to take them down to the lab for extensive tests, but it all boils down to someone having turned our two vampires champions back into their human selves. My guess would be to get them out of the way." She looked to Wesley, who was frowning thunderously at the news. "Does Mu'uaxa ring a bell?" "Oh shit." Gunn searched for something more erudite to add to the discussion, but was interrupted by Liam, sidling up to Fred. "Well 'course we're human, pretty darlin'," Liam cooed in his best seductive voice. "Do we look like a pair of Boggities? Billy here's a fine figure of a man. As I am meself," he added with a sly smile. Never hurt to get on the right side of a pretty lady. Could be she was the weak link in this den of thieves they'd had the bad luck to fall into. Fred slapped the large hand that was attempting to insinuate itself around her waist. "Behave, Angel or I'm going to put you both in status for the duration until we figure this out." "Ah, you've got me confused with some other lad, dearie. Me name is Liam not Angel, though some of the lasses have accused me of being....." "Shut up!" Not the weak link, then. Liam blinked and stepped back. Little wild cat, she was. He'd wager she scratch his back to ribbons were he to bed her. He looked across to where Billy was regarding him with a steady gaze. When Fred turned away, Billy carefully mouthed "Wenches?" to Liam, which caused him to twitch up his eyebrow and snort. William tipped his head back and laughed heartily at Liam's facial contortions. For someone in grave jeopardy, he was enjoying himself quite a lot. If this was one of the wenches Liam had talked about, he was eager to make her closer acquaintance. William was a shy man. He was in his late twenties, yet he'd never lain with a woman. Still, he'd heard tell of doxies who'd lift their skirts to a man with the proper incentive. He felt a brief stirring in his nether regions at the very thought of it and laughed again, this time low and soft. At the seductive chuckle, Fred spun back to where Spike was attempting to hide his amusement, evidently at her expense. Fred couldn't quite bring herself to be angry with him. Human Spike was really the most delectable thing she'd seen in a very long time. Not that she was going to ever admit that to anyone. But, those blue eyes watching her almost like a hungry animal's, the soft tumble of honey curls off-setting the sharply delineated sweep of his cheekbones, the full bottom lip turned up in a seductively innocent smile were totally and completely Hot with a capital H in there. Fred shook herself from her trance. Jeez Louise. She turned away from the searing blue eyes sending unexpected shivers along her spine to clap her hands briskly together, making everyone present jump with surprise. "Let's get down to the lab. Then we need to plan our strategy. I'm sure there's a way to reverse this. I just need to run some tests. And you need to hit the books, Wesley." Wesley nodded coming forward to take Spike's arm or should he be thinking William? It was all quite a muddle. The only thing he was completely sure of was the need to thwart their enemies' scheme. William and Liam must assume the guise of their present day selves until this was sorted out. No one but a select few could know the two souled vampires had become vulnerable humans. William pulled away from Wesley to move closer to Liam. They exchanged a conspiratorial glance. They were in this together and they'd get out of it together. Billy and Liam hooked arms and strode out of the office following the twitch of a pretty skirt down the hallway, jointly marveling at the sight of long, bare legs. Wenches, indeed!