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slashthedrabble Aug. 24th, 2006 01:52 pm)
shinodabear.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Aug. 24th, 2006 01:52 pm)Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: My choice is not stealing what is rightfully Mr. Whedon’s.
The choices we make
Angel watched as Spike entered the office silently, sat down in his chair, and looked him right in the eye. He felt it coming, knew it was inevitable. It always was. So the real question, as the one that had been posed before them for so long fell from Spike’s lips, was: What should he do? He practically killed his son to give him a better life. He broke Buffy’s heart to let her be the normal girl she should've been. He knew he’d do anything to protect those close to him. Now, he knew, he had to protect Spike. He couldn’t let him fall into the shadows.
break us,
He didn’t show any emotion, not on the outside. But when he heard Spike’s voice, always so confident, so in control, crack, Angel winced. He expected anger. He expected harsh curses, stomping boots, and slamming doors. He couldn’t take the quiet, couldn’t stand the whisper.
“You’re a bastard.” And Spike left as silently as he had came.
He agreed with Spike completely. But what had to be done, was done.
make us stronger,
Angel stopped mid-sentence when Spike finally made his return. Two weeks. It had been two full weeks since he’d last seen him. And now he was back, confident swagger, arrogant smirk, and boots up on the table.
“We gonna get on wit’ this meetin’ then? Don’t know ‘bout you folks, but I sure could go for some demon arse-whooping. ‘Course I could just make a few remarks ‘bout Princess’s hair. Seriously, mate, do you want to look like that Seacrest bloke? And what’s with the pink shirt?”
Spike was back. Who’d’ve thought that Angel would ever have been happy about that?
let us live,
“Why the hell did you sign it away?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huddled into himself a little more, clinging desperately to the shadows.
“You know what the hell I’m talking about, you stupid ponce!” Spike's arms waved frantically, dancing over the sun. His hair shined. Angel briefly wondered if Spike would finally dye it now. Something a little less bright. And maybe change his wardrobe.
“It was supposed to be yours.”
“And now it’s yours. Happy birthday, Spike. Or shall I call you Will?” He smiled, and Spike left.
but most of all, they make us who we are.
“Hey.”
“Been a while.”
Angel looked to the floor and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“I know why you did it.”
Angel nodded.
“I don’t need you to protect me anymore, Angel.”
Angel nodded again.
“But . . . it’s nice to think you . . . still care an’ all. S’nice.”
Angel looked back up, and Spike smiled. In that one expression, it was forgiven. Not all, never all, but the most recent wound was forgiven. Angel could finally go back to that day, and say yes. He would like very much to be with Spike. He’d like very much to start over.
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: My choice is not stealing what is rightfully Mr. Whedon’s.
The choices we make
Angel watched as Spike entered the office silently, sat down in his chair, and looked him right in the eye. He felt it coming, knew it was inevitable. It always was. So the real question, as the one that had been posed before them for so long fell from Spike’s lips, was: What should he do? He practically killed his son to give him a better life. He broke Buffy’s heart to let her be the normal girl she should've been. He knew he’d do anything to protect those close to him. Now, he knew, he had to protect Spike. He couldn’t let him fall into the shadows.
break us,
He didn’t show any emotion, not on the outside. But when he heard Spike’s voice, always so confident, so in control, crack, Angel winced. He expected anger. He expected harsh curses, stomping boots, and slamming doors. He couldn’t take the quiet, couldn’t stand the whisper.
“You’re a bastard.” And Spike left as silently as he had came.
He agreed with Spike completely. But what had to be done, was done.
make us stronger,
Angel stopped mid-sentence when Spike finally made his return. Two weeks. It had been two full weeks since he’d last seen him. And now he was back, confident swagger, arrogant smirk, and boots up on the table.
“We gonna get on wit’ this meetin’ then? Don’t know ‘bout you folks, but I sure could go for some demon arse-whooping. ‘Course I could just make a few remarks ‘bout Princess’s hair. Seriously, mate, do you want to look like that Seacrest bloke? And what’s with the pink shirt?”
Spike was back. Who’d’ve thought that Angel would ever have been happy about that?
let us live,
“Why the hell did you sign it away?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huddled into himself a little more, clinging desperately to the shadows.
“You know what the hell I’m talking about, you stupid ponce!” Spike's arms waved frantically, dancing over the sun. His hair shined. Angel briefly wondered if Spike would finally dye it now. Something a little less bright. And maybe change his wardrobe.
“It was supposed to be yours.”
“And now it’s yours. Happy birthday, Spike. Or shall I call you Will?” He smiled, and Spike left.
but most of all, they make us who we are.
“Hey.”
“Been a while.”
Angel looked to the floor and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“I know why you did it.”
Angel nodded.
“I don’t need you to protect me anymore, Angel.”
Angel nodded again.
“But . . . it’s nice to think you . . . still care an’ all. S’nice.”
Angel looked back up, and Spike smiled. In that one expression, it was forgiven. Not all, never all, but the most recent wound was forgiven. Angel could finally go back to that day, and say yes. He would like very much to be with Spike. He’d like very much to start over.
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*Hugs you fiercely*
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*sighs*
*thinks happy thoughts about the two boys*
*huggles you*
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