Reviewing the Classics
Angel sighed heavily, relieved to finally turn the lights out, be done with the day. He’d almost made it to the elevator when a glint from Wesley’s office caught his eye.
Making his way back through his office, dropping his coat over the back of a chair, Angel headed towards the hallway. He wasn’t surprised to see Spike slouched on the couch, but he was surprised to see one of the many template holding books across his lap.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked from the doorway.
“Little reading up,” Spike mumbled, not bothering to look at Angel.
“Who’d you get to all up the prophecy for you?” Angel crossed the office and pulled the book from Spike’s hands.
“Wasn’t looking at the…”
“What is this?” Angel asked, turning the book from side to side trying to make out the script.
“Fred took a bit of pity on me, talked your watcher into giving me access.” Spike took the book back. “Should I need it, that is.”
“I doubt Wesley had this sort of access in mind,” Angel said, leaning forward just enough to finally make out the Victorian scrawl that covered the pages.
“Like hell he didn’t,” Spike said, turning the page as he wordlessly scooted to one side of the couch making room for Angel to seat himself. “He’s the one that reminded me of several of the classics.”
“The Pearl is classic?” Angel asked, slowly lowering himself onto the cushion until he could read the book over Spike’s shoulder.
“Absolutely,” Spike smiled, “mean if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Not so much, the girls were always too young,” Angel said, smiling at the limerick on the page.
“Uh, yeah,” Spike drawled, “like say high school juniors.”
“In my day that was completely normal,” Angel sighed, a look of calm remembrance passing through his eyes for just a moment.
“Amazing just how prudish the world’s become,” Spike turned the page again, laughing at the tale of birching and girl’s dormitory exploits. “Time was a bloke could top off his mates before tea and no one s’much as batted an eye.”
“You really don’t know what over-sharing means do you?” Angel asked, somewhat horrified look on his face.
“Sorry, apologies, forgive me grandpa, didn’t mean to offend you.”
“First time for everything.”
“You’re about a century late for the first time, but I could go for a most recently.” Spike pivoted on the cushion, handing the book to Angel.
Angel held the book for a moment, silently turning pages as Spike stared daggers into the side of his head. Finally unable to ignore the throbbing building in his veins he closed the book.
“I think I have some tea upstairs, I guess we have time.”
“Why bother going upstairs?” Spike asked, undoing his belt.
“Because this is Wesley’s office,” Angel answered, thinking it was enough.
“You’re point is?”
“This. Is. Wesley’s. Office.” Angel said more slowly.
“And where do you think I spend tea time everyday?” Spike asked, standing to drop his trousers and kick off his boots.
“I, I,” Angel stammered, “I thought you said ‘time was’,” he added trying to compose himself as Spike pulled his shirt over his head.
“Yeah, time was, as in this afternoon,” Spike grinned, “and now I’m parched again.”
“Remind me to never sit on this couch again,” Angel groaned.
“Uh huh,” Spike agreed, straddling Angel for just s second before pulling him into a kiss. “Or maybe I’ll just start asking Harmony for a third cup.”
“We’ll see,” Angel smiled, cutting Spike's reply off with another kiss.