185 Idle Hands, Sunnyd_lite Turning Point 1/1 AtS G

[sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com]

Title: Turning Point
Author: SUnnyd_lite
Set: Season 5 Angel
A/N: This prompt didn't like me. At all.


"You still here?"

"I'm hurt!" Spike clutched his heart like one of the silent film birds. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me." He then lifted his heels to plunk them more firmly on Angel's desk. Being corporal again rocked. If he managed to get his boots on a pile of papers, well that was just a bonus. Too bad Angel was so anal about liquids on the desk; Spike would have loved to knock over a mug.

"I don't." Angel spat out the retort and swept Spike's feet from the desk. "I repeat, you still here?"

"Well yay. Was going to head home but thought bugger that and opted grace you with my delightful presence." He resettled back in the leather chair. "Might snag this chair to my place. When I get one."

"Angel, have you reviewed the Osnork matter." Spike twisted to see Wesley wander into the office without looking up from the papers in his hand. "They believe that transactions formed in the waning moon aren't binding."

Spike tucked that bit of trade trivia away for another day. "H'uh that explains that time in Oslo." He smirked at the expected glare from Angel. Grumpy never liked being reminded of towns they'd been run out of.

"Oslo?" Spike smirked as the Watcher's head snapped up. "Oh Spike. You still here?"

"Of course, where else would he be? This is my own person hell."

"Angel, are you beginning to doubt our plan?"

"Plan?" Spike couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "A plan?" He pushed out of the chair and
ignoring Angel's look of disgust, sat on the corner of the desk. "You lot make the Slayer's sidekicks look like bloody Wellington." He gestured to the stacks of files. "Fighting evil? You're drowning in bureaucracy. Or is the plan to launch an attack of paper cuts?"

"Idle hands are the devil's joy," snipped Angel.

"They certainly could be," Spike arched his eyebrow in the leer that always sent the Slayer running. Either to or from him depending on her mood.

But Wesley interrupted the glare fest. "Angel, as much as I hate to give credence to Spike,"

"Et tu, Wesley? Not feeling the love here."

Wesley peered at him, as if over the glasses he was wearing less and less. "Be that as it may, we do seem to be a bit well sidetracked might not be an incorrect analysis of our focus of late."

Spike was going to speak up, but then realized he'd been listened to. By the Watcher.

"Remember our last night out?" And now the glances were cutting him out entirely. "I would suggest we repeat the discussion."

Code was good, since Spike was sure this place was as buggy as Dru. But he hated codes he wasn't in on. "So good deed done. Guess it's time for the mayhem." He wasn't sure what he'd done, but he'd done something. Not that idle then. He wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans.

Angel and Wesley were still staring at each other. "Or should I just stay and watch you two snog."

That broke them up. "You'll speak to them personally?" Angel pushed a file at Wesley. Then glanced at the ugly statue of a half bitten apple on his desk. "The Osnork will only accept one representative at a time."
There was a pause. "I understand. Tomorrow evening should suffice." Wesley turned and strode out of the office with verve and purpose.

"So, I'll just be working on that mayhem then." He wasn't drawing out the goodbye. Nope he wasn't one to pass up a chance to tweak the great foreheaded one.

"If I unlock my liquor cabinet, will you get out of my hair for a few hours? Gunn might know of a poker game."

"The guys in the garage won't let me play anymore." He'd been right miffed by that. He'd spent months as a ghost learning all their tells.

"Two days corporal and you're already banned?" Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Just go upstairs. There's matters to deal with."

Least he had a place to crash tonight. Now just to find where Angel hid the good stuff.