Title: One of them Extreme Makeover Thingies
"Well this is about as much fun as watching you and Darla shag." Spike toyed with a pair of scissors, occasionally trying to stab the silver blades into the desktop he was using as a chair.
"Feel free to go home."
Angel sat in one of the overstuffed chairs that dotted his office, his tiny cloth arms barely long enough to rest on the arms of the chair. It had already been two days since his encounter with the demon puppets that had put him in his current state, and waiting for the effects to wear off was not helping his mood.
"Don't suppose you'd let me poke your eyes out and blindfold you?"
"Yeah Spike, I think I'd mind." Angel said with as much of a glare as his little doll's eyes could manage, "and get off of my desk."
"Just feeling a little nostalgic, you know, been a few years since I had dolls around."
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
Spike flashed a two fingered salute before jumping from the desk and sitting in the chair opposite Angel. "I'm talking about Drusilla you git. I mean Miss Edith wasn't exactly as plush as you, but then you do have the man boobs and all. Only makes sense you'd be a cushy doll."
"What are you talking about? I don't have man boobs."
"Well not now you don't. I mean -- little felt nipples aside -- you *are* pretty flat chested all of a sudden. Did ya have to bargain extra for the lift?"
"It's not like I gave them parameters before they did this to me."
"Well no, course not. If you had I imagine your little puppet trousers would fit a lot tighter."
"Spike, please just shut up." Angel ran his four-fingered hand over his eyes and blinked, hoping Spike would be gone when he reopened them, and sighing when of course, he wasn't.
"Maybe we could cut a little fluff out of yer ass and endow you better. Hell it might even last after you change back. Whad'ya say? It'll be like having plastic surgery only you know, for free."
"I don't need plastic surgery."
"Come on, we could do one of them extreme makeovers on you, all it'll take is a needle and thread. Bet we could even evolve that forehead of yours a couple thousand years, make you look like a Ken doll."
"Nobody is cutting me up." He rubbed over the missing chunk of eyebrow where Nina had mauled him the previous day. "I mean, again."
"Come on hero, go under the knife for the team. We're the ones who have to look at you every day."
"No one is forcing you to stay and look at me. In fact, I think I would pay you to leave." Angel reached inside his coat and tried to stuff his fingers into the small pocket where he normally kept his money. "Dammit," he whined, pulling out a small wad of bills that looked more Monopoly money than legal tender.
"Keep your money," Spike said, waving him off with a laugh "I should be paying you for the non-stop entertainment. I mean being in Sunnydale was fine, even fun sometimes, but this, this is better than anything the Hellmouth could offer up."
"I'm so glad you're amused, really." Angel slid from the chair, legs dangling for a moment before connecting with the carpet. "I'm going to bed. No sense just sitting here waiting to change back."
"Need me to fetch a doll crib?"
"Fuck off, Spike."
"Jim Henson just rolled over in his grave, you know."
Angel pitter-pattered towards the elevator, Spike on his heels.
"Why are you following me?" Angel asked, turning to face Spike as the doors closed and they ascended to Angel's penthouse.
"Just need to use the loo," Spike said.
"You do not," Angel argued.
"You're right. I just wanted to see the rest."
"The rest of what?" Angel placed his hands where his hips would be, if he had hips and not just a straight felt torso.
"The rest of the puppetry. I saw this ad for some show called the Puppetry of the Penis, but I'm betting they couldn't hold a candle to you."
"That's because I'm flammable. Now go back downstairs, take a car and go home." Angel stepped out of the elevator and entered his apartment, Spike still following him.
"Come on, nothing I haven't seen before. Hell, I've seen it this week." Spike's smile took a turn for the lewd and his head did that little cock to the side that made Angel insane.
"Will you just let me sleep?" Angel asked when Spike followed him into the bedroom, the wicked smile forming on Spike's lips sending a shiver up his back.
"Take it off," Spike ordered.
"Answer the question."
"Yeah, you show me and I'll leave you alone."
"Fine," Angel said, lower lip jutting out in a frightening pout. He slid out of his coat with little trouble, but the buttons on his shirt proved more of a challenge. "Stupid...piece of crap," he muttered before finally giving up and yanking at the shirt, sending the tiny buttons flying.
"Just like the old days," Spike grinned.
Angel tried ripping the button on the trousers as well, but the material wouldn't give.
"That's all you're getting," Angel turned his back to Spike and tried to jump onto the bed.
Spike watched his struggle, his laughter steadily growing as Angel flailed left and right trying to work the momentum up to swing onto the mattress.
"Stop, stop," Spike cried, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're killing me."
He took a step forward, setting the scissors which he still carried on the nightstand, and lifted Angel onto the bed. Spike then flipped him over and undid the button on Angel's trousers, despite the puppet's protestations.
"Stop being such a prat," Spike said, pulling the trousers and tiny pants over Angel's legs. "Can I keep these?" Spike asked, twirling Angel's tidy-whities around his finger.
"No," Angel said. He tried to put on his best glare, willing his forehead to help form a scowl, but in the end all the effort accomplished was some wiggling of his eyebrows and Spike laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall for support. "God I wish I had teeth to clench."
"Nasty habit that." Spike clutched at his sides as Angel toyed with the material that made up his toothless grin.
"Okay, you got what you wanted, now leave." Angel pointed a finger at the door.
"Sure you don't want to play a round of stuff the cotton?"
"You know you wanna see if it would work. We don't even have to put it all back in. I bet we could get you under two-hundred pounds if we left some out, maybe make a pillow out of it. Of course it could turn back into fat when you change back, and that would be a right mess in the morning."
"Enough!" Angel yelled. "You are not performing puppet surgery on me!"
"No need to bite my head off, just having a thought."
"Well have another one, preferably somewhere else."
"Fine." Spike threw his hands in the air in a gesture of submission. "Know when I'm not wanted."
"Ha, bloody, ha. I'll be on the couch."
"You have your own apartment. Go home."
"Nah, I'll stay here, just in case."
"Just in case what?"
"In case anything funny happens."
"Idiot." Angel called after Spike as he left the room.
"That's why you love me," Spike called back.
Angel rubbed a hand over his face, reaching over to the end table to flip the light off. The glint of steel caught his eye and with a sigh he turned the light out.
Spike stood in the hallway grinning like the town fool when the faintest sound of metal reached his ears and the light was flipped back on. He pulled a blanket from the hall closet and settled onto the couch, the smile remaining even as he drifted off to sleep.
Spike awoke when the first rays of sun peeked through the closed blinds. Stretching his arms over his head as he yawned and sat up, he almost didn't see Angel standing behind the couch.
"Lurking are we?" Spike asked over his shoulder, relieved to see Angel back to his normal fully-fleshed self.
"Nope, just woke up."
"Late for you," Spike said through another yawn.
"I was up late."
"Doing what?" Spike asked innocently.
"I made you a present."
Spike turned around just in time to get hit in the face with a pillow. It was only then that he realized Angel was wearing leather pants.
Really *tight* leather pants.