Summary: "What happens in the white room stays in the white room, got it?"
Spoilers: Though Angel 5x08 - Destiny
Feedback: Greatly appreciated (APostModernSleaz@aol.com)
Archive: More than likely okay, but please ask first
Disclaimer: The characters used within are the property of Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, and of course Joss Whedon. It's their sandbox, I'm just playing in it.
Notes: All for Soda, whose disturbingly-specific request I did my damndest to answer. Hope it lives up to all your pretty Spunn dreams ;) (Completed 11/30/03)
Cigarettes and chocolate milk
These are just a couple of my cravings
Everything it seems I like's a little bit stronger
A little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me....
So, as it turns out, killing a couple of Graxxler demons in the Wolfram and Hart lobby will leave a hell of a stink in the place. Of course, that’s putting aside the fact that Gunn very politely asked Angel to not kill the Graxxlers in the first place, as he’d already gone well over quota on client killing in the past month. When the smell finally started to creep into Gunn’s office, he took it as a sign and packed up his stuff for the night. Going home wasn’t an option at the moment since Angel was having all their places swept for bugs -- and not the creepy-crawly kind. They used to worry about errant portals, maybe some unexpected gate-crashing demons. Now, they worried about corporate espionage.
By they, Gunn of course meant Angel. Ever since the whole Magical Mountain Dew of Destiny experience, the boss had gotten more uptight than usual. It would be amusing if it didn’t leave Gunn homeless for a few hours.
At least there was still one place he could go and enjoy some stink-free peace and quiet for a while. The elevator dissolved into white, and Gunn smiled.
“Kitty, you here?”
Gunn shrugged and said, “Chair.”
A fat, black armchair appeared in front of him. He sat down, pulled out the dockets from the McCole hearing, and was halfway through the first section when he heard the elevator ding.
“Atticus Finch, didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Spike? Why are you here? How did you even get in?”
Spike stood in front of Gunn, shifting a white plastic grocery bag from hand to hand. “In case you didn’t notice, Angelcakes made most of the building downright unpleasant for those of you with a normal sense of smell. Forget about those of us with enhanced sniffers. Can I get a chair here?”
“Uh, sure.” Gunn put the papers aside and said, “Another chair.”
When a second chair popped up next to Gunn, Spike nodded approvingly and flopped into it. “Neat trick.”
“Ain’t it? But you still haven’t told me how you got up here.”
“Oh, I got the full tour last week, and vampires all have photographic memories, don’t you know.”
Spike snorted. “Of course not. No, I snuck into Angel’s office when he wasn’t around and copied down all his access codes, in case of situations like this.”
“Smooth,” Gunn grinned, despite himself.
Spike opened the plastic bag on his lap, pulled out a beer and handed it to Gunn, then pulled out a second for himself.
“The best beer Harmony’s money can buy,” Spike said. After cracking open the bottle and taking a gulp, he screwed up his face. “Remind me to make Angel give her a raise.”
Gunn tried his own bottle and had to agree. Still, beer was beer. He took another swig, then turned to Spike. “So, what, your place being swept for bugs too?”
“No, that would mean I actually have a place. Meatloaf’s dragging his feet on getting me papers and all that good stuff needed to land an apartment, so I’ve been sleeping in his office.”
“You want me to take care of the papers for you tomorrow?”
“You can do that?”
“In about five minutes.”
“Well.” Spike nodded. “I’d say that warrants sharing my ice cream with you.” He pulled a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from the bag.
“Cherry Garcia?” Gunn asked.
“Now you’re talking.”
“I don’t get why cheap beer gets you drunker faster,” Gunn said slowly, “but it does. It really does.” He nodded to punctuate his point, head flopping back and forth and feeling like it was going to roll off his neck at any moment. The oppressive white of the room made him feel tiny. Miniscule. Even as the alcohol made his head feel fuzzy and large. Huge. Gigantic. Like a giant Mardi Gras parade head.
“You’re not wrong,” Spike said, burping loudly a second later.
“Aw, man.” Gunn waved his hand in front of his face and scowled. “That smells worse than the Graxxler demons. What the hell did you eat?”
“Onions,” Spike grinned. “Lots of them. Started a tab under Angel’s name at Outback Steakhouse.”
“Damn.” Pulling Altoids from his briefcase, Gunn pressed the tin into Spike’s hand with a grimace. “Do a brother a favor and crunch a few of these before doing any more talking.”
“What for? Not like I’m gonna be snogging anyone tonight.” He popped three of the mints into his mouth and paused. “Right?”
Spike looked at him with something that, in his drunken state, Gunn could only describe as a leer.
“I thought you were supposed to be straight. Dating Slayers and all.”
“Oh, didn’t you know? All vampires are notoriously bisexual.”
Gunn blinked. “Really?”
For the second time that night, Spike snorted. “Of course not. Now, me, on the other hand....”
He crawled across the arms of the chairs and into Gunn’s lap. When Spike snaked his tongue into his mouth, Gunn tasted mints, beer, ice cream, onions, cigarette smoke, and a few unidentifiable but not unpleasant flavors that mixed and twisted and made his head feel even fuzzier than the cheap beer had.
When he finally pulled back to gulp in some of the air that Spike apparently forgot he needed, Gunn shook his head.
“I thought I was supposed to be straight,” he slurred.
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, I’ve seen the lusty, wrong looks you shoot good ol’ Wes.”
“But I dated Fred.”
“Did you now?” Spike grinned. “Well, she’s quite a dish. We could always phone her up, make her the luckiest girl-geek ever, to land two hotties like us.”
“No way,” Gunn said. “Way, way too complicated. With Fred. Way. Things got very, very, very complicated.”
Spike nodded. “Girls can right complicate things, sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I never can pass up something soft and sweet. But sometimes you just need...simple.”
“Simple? Oh....” Gunn breathed out as Spike’s fingers wormed their way into his pants, ice cream-chilled fingers wrapping themselves around his cock and pulling it out.
“See,” Spike continued, “guys can be very simple sometimes. We just wanna fuck and eat.” As he strummed his fingers lightly up and down the length of Gunn’s shaft, he leaned in close, lips brushing the side of Gunn’s neck. “Fuck...and eat.”
Spike bit down, gently, teeth sinking into Gunn’s skin. It hurt. A lot. And Gunn wanted to shout, push the crazy vampire away, but the beer had leadened his limbs, and Spike’s nimble fingers felt so good, cold and soft against the dull ache building between Gunn’s legs.
Gunn always figured he’d die trying to save the world. Or at least saving some damsel in distress. He didn’t expect to die in a black leather easy chair, in a big mystical conduit room to hell, being simultaneously jerked off and eaten by a vampire.
As his hips bucked back and forth and he felt himself exploding in Spike’s hand, he waited for the killing blow. Waited to fall back into the darkness he’d touched when Gwen had electrocuted him the year before.
Instead, he got a big, sloppy kiss on the forehead.
Gunn opened his eyes and saw Spike grinning at him, looking like the cat that caught the canary, a couple of bluebirds, and a baby rabbit to boot.
“That was not cool,” Gunn said, scowling and pushing Spike away.
“C’mon, you didn’t honestly think I’d kill you, did you? I was just a little hungry. Only took a pint or two.”
“That’s pretty fucked up, Spike.”
“No, I’ll tell you what’s fucked up.” Spike jerked a thumb towards Kitty, who was seated in the corner, calmly staring at Gunn. “What’s fucked up is your pet, who apparently came in to watch you getting wanked. It does not get more fucked up than that.”
The panther rose and ambled over to Spike. It put a paw to the vampire’s chest and pushed him into the chair, then swooped its head down and lapped at Spike’s hand, taking in everything Gunn had spilled onto Spike. Spike made a face. “I stand corrected.”
“We have a complicated relationship,” Gunn said.
“So I see.”
Gunn wasn’t sure whether it was the getting bitten or beaten that sobered him up, but either way, he felt well enough to push himself into a standing position. Tucking himself back into his pants, he looked at Spike. “What happens in the white room stays in the white room, got it?”
“Are you ashamed of me?” Spike sang in a high falsetto, pursing his lips and batting his eyelashes melodramatically.
“No, but I think Angel and Wesley might take turns staking your ass if they knew you bit any one of us.”
“Good point,” Spike smirked. “So, what do you say, same time next week? I’ll bring the Karamel Sutra.”
Gunn shook his head and grimaced, then walked over to where the elevator usually appeared. Then he turned around and winked at Spike. “Make it Chunky Monkey and you’ve got a deal.”