Charity fic #2

[thebratqueen]

Another charity fic. This one for cadence_k, who gave $30 to Doctors Without Borders and asked for a 500 or so word story of Spike and Wesley talking about Angel over a couple of drinks.

Other charity fics can be found here



"You fancy him."

"I bloody well do *not*."

Spike frowned into his beer, as though he'd lost something in the bottom of the pale yellow liquid. "Thought that was supposed to be my line, pet."

Wesley gave a charitable wave. "Have it then. I'm giving it away for free. Along with, apparently, my darkest secrets and my soul."

"Still have your soul," Spike pointed out. "If you didn't, you'd be all leather trousers and violence and… say, what *does* make you lose your soul?"

"I already own leather pants," Wesley said. "Getting me to wear them involves little more than asking politely and, depending upon the weather, offering to help me with the powder."

Spike checked his watch. "Could be back home in twenty, 's a bit humid so hands-on it is. Can the polite be done with a thank you later?"

"I am not driving in this condition," Wesley said, finishing off his latest shot. He signaled for another. "Neither are you."

"There's these things called *taxis* - "

"No," Wesley said. He blinked, realizing his hand was floating in the air in front of him. After some thought he decided it was because he'd been making a gesture of finality. He completed it, then resumed speaking. "Absolutely not. We are *not* going anywhere while in this state."

"I hear Vegas is nice," Spike said.

"The state of *intoxication*," Wesley said. "Which, I'll grant you, is often like the state of California, of which we are currently in. Both. Drunk *and* in California. Dear God, no wonder I'm depressed."

"Plus there's Angel," Spike punctuated this remark by spinning his pint glass in the slick puddle of condensation that had formed on the rough wooden table. "Ponce."

"I *don't* fancy him," Wesley said.

"Me neither," Spike said.

"He's not my type," Wesley said.

"Not like he's *mine*," Spike shot Wesley an annoyed look at the implied accusation. "I don't go for the - whatchacallit?"

"Thick-headed idiots?" Wesley suggested.

"Them," Spike said, with a point of his index finger. "Like clever ones, I do. Quick-witted. Know what imagination is and aren't afraid to use it."

"Able to recognize Lavrette's Theorem when they see it in action," Wesley added.

Spike took another swig of his beer. "More for you, pet."

"It's very sexy in the original Sumerian," Wesley clarified.

Spike took the next round of drinks off of their waitress, and pressed the fresh pint into Wesley's hands. "Still more for you."

"I bet he'd sound brilliant reading it aloud," Wesley said. "Even if he *does* sound like a Yankee these days."

"He's all broad and muscley," Spike said, as though these were hanging offenses. "With the big shoulders, and the stomach - "

"Lovely arse," Wesley leaned on one hand, watching the lights play in the reflections in his drink. "And lips. Did you notice he has lips?"

"Stupid hair," Spike said.

"You could close your eyes and kiss those lips and never notice the hair," Wesley said.

Spike snorted. "Even the *blind* notice the hair."

"Love is blind," Wesley sighed.

"And like - no," Spike frowned, looking up as though he could find the right word trapped on the ceiling. "Fancying? No."

"Nausea?" Wesley suggested.

"No."

"Apathy?"

"No."

"A general malaise that is indefinable yet feels it could be classified by a color such as pale red?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." Spike slumped his shoulders down. "This. *This* is dumb. Love is blind, this is dumb. Not like he fancies either one of us."

"I don't think he fancies men," Wesley murmured, staring into his half-empty glass.

"Not like we can do anything about it," Spike said.

"He *is* thick-headed," Wesley said.

Spike nodded. "Stubborn."

"Exceedingly stupid."

"Vain."

"Arrogant."

"Stick up his arse."

"Impossible."

"Ugly."

"Stupid hair."

"*Very* stupid hair."

"I don't fancy him at all," Wesley said. "I never have, and I never shall."

Spike slapped his hand down onto the table, giving a one-handed clap of approval. "Me neither."

They locked eyes for a moment, then sighed.

"'nother drink?" Spike asked.

"Make it two," Wesley said.