Author: Pet

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Angel/Lindsey

Disclaimer: They're not mine, though I bet Joss wishes he could have as much fun with them as I do.

Summary: Angel and Lindsey bicker. Then, well, yeah. With whiskey.

Feedback: Oh YEAH. Love it. Live on it.

Distribution: Ask first, please.

Notes: This fic is based entirely on the funny/flirty vibe these two had in 'Dead End', and almost completely ignores the angst and misery of all the previous episodes. So don't shoot me.

Notes, pt. 2: For Lar, Kass and Sam, who were having a bad week. It makes me sad when they don't smile. So here. Laugh. Please? Kisses, from your Pet.

Improv #15: dark - chime - air - orange.



All it took was one illegal u-turn, and Lindsey figured out that the cops that had followed him for the last ten minutes were doing so for a REASON. Damn Angel. Damn sign. And he called LINDSEY immature? He signed off on the ticket with great ill grace, tore the sign off the back of his precious truck, no WONDER he was petting it like a puppy. Gotta make sure the tape sticks, right, Ange?, stomped on it a few times, got back in the cab, and fumed.

OK, so maybe he was a little immature. Maybe he was regressing back to high school or something, but Wolfram and Hart or no Wolfram and Hart, this kind of thing just could not go unanswered. It would be a violation of the guy code. Now that he was back to enjoying himself, evil hand and all, snicker, this was very clear to him.

So. Huh. What to do.


Angel popped his head through the tunnel entrance, and took a wary look around. It was very late, after all, so he SHOULD be ok... all the lights were out, just a dim orange glow from the streetlights outside. No Cordelia, or, thank GOD, Wesley. If anyone had told him six months ago that he would be taking asinine orders from Wesley Wyndham Price, he'd have... probably stared blankly at them, and gone away to draw a picture of Darla. Which was why he was in this stupid situation to begin with.

He sighed, hauled himself out of the tunnel, and ran a distracted hand through his hair. They were his friends, sure. He was worried about Cordelia, yes. Gunn was an annoying punk, always. But was it too much to ask that they behave like adults? Just occasionally? So he didn't feel so much like an ancient babysitter all the time? Probably. It was his bed, after all. He'd made it, he'd lie in it, and damn it, he'd even smile about it to keep the Princess happy. But every once in a while-


What the?

It was strange, but Angel actually felt much more comfortable facing attack alone. That way, he didn't have to worry about Wes chopping his own foot off, or Angel's HEAD off, by accident, or fret about Cordelia and her appalling lack of a sense of self-preservation--she HAD grown up on the Hellmouth, for God's sake--or worry that Gunn's axe was going to come flying apart at a critical moment. So as he stalked towards the front door, there was a little smile tugging at his lips, and he twirled the battleaxe in his hand with something approaching anticipation. There was something outside his hotel that was NOT supposed to be there. This was going to be fun.

There was a ladder blocking his door. This was unusual. He looked up. Froze. Gaped. And laughed so hard he was worried about his soul staying put.


He'd had a RELIABLE report putting Angel miles from here, goddamn it. GodDAMN it. This was, well, on the long list of embarrassing situations Angel had seen him in, this was really not THAT bad. Hanging from stonework with a giant sign in one hand. In the dark. Could happen to anyone. Anyone who had forgotten he had two hands, had panicked and grabbed hard with his left and kicked a ladder away.

Nothing EVER went right for him around that man. Vampire. Whatever. Angel was like his own personal reverse-rabbits-foot or something. Who was currently hooting, holding his sides, and were those TEARS on his face? Jesus.


Angel was bent over now, braced on his knees, gasping for unneeded breath. OK, it wasn't THAT funny.


Still no answer. More laughing. Shit.

"Angel, if you're done being an idiot down there, could you grab me the ladder? Angel? HEY YOU! LAUGHING BOY!"

Lindsey knew that yelling would only make it worse. Couldn't help himself, not the least little bit.

"Lin... Lin... Lin..." Angel was hiccuping.

"Angel, Angel, Angel." He sneered. "Get it together, would you? My hands are getting tired." Not that you'd care, you freak. Oh, wait, help the hopeless. That would definitely be me right now.

"Do you... you should see yourself. Oh man." Angel straightened, wiped his eyes. Looked up again. Giggled. GIGGLED, and damn that was a disturbing sight. Two hundred-odd pounds of giggling ancient vampire. No wonder they didn't give more of them souls.

"Angel..." He tried to sound patient, he really did, but he was braced against a ledge of stonework, hands holding hard to a gargoyle, and he had the unpleasant feeling that his boots were slipping. Note to self: do not wear cowboy boots when climbing.

Still snickering, occasionally, Angel reached down, grabbed the ladder, hefted it with annoying ease. Did not set it against the building.

"Angel... my hands are slipping, here." And they were. Sweating.

"What's on the sign, Linds?" It was kind of crumpled, and facing the building, so he couldn't see it. Thank god for small favors.

"None of your business. Angel, LADDER!"

"Oh, I think it's my business. You're hanging it outside MY home, after all. Just drop it, Lindsey. It'll make it easier to hold on."

"No. No way. Just... just set the ladder up, and I'll get down, and you'll never see me again, ok? C'mon." He HATED this.

"Drop the sign, and we'll talk about the ladder."

"I don't WANT to talk about the ladder, I want you to put it up, so I can get DOWN. Angel. You're a good guy, right? Horse, white hat, sunset... well, maybe not the sunset... it's your job. Come on. Help me out here."

"Sign. And stop trying to change the subject."

"You know, I liked you a lot better when you were broody and uncommunicative."

"You know, I never liked you at all, so if you don't want to spend the rest of your life up there, drop the sign already."

"Already? Angel, you're starting to talk like a Valley Girl. Oh, fine, no, don't walk away! OK! I'm dropping the sign. See? Dropped. Just... don't leave me up here. It was a joke. Big joke. Get me down now, please."

Angel strolled back, spread the sign out on the sidewalk. Contemplated it. Lindsey could read the large black print on the white background from his perch... hell, he'd MEANT for the thing to be visible. FREE CRACK HERE!! He was rather proud of the fact that he'd gotten felt tip marker to look so professional. Attention to detail, that was him. Fuck. Angel wasn't moving.

"It was a joke. Someone would have noticed it first thing, you would have taken it down, no harm, no foul. Oh, AND you should be paying my ticket. Gee, officer, I have no idea how that got there. Right." He scowled down. Angel scowled up.

"This is SO fuckin' immature, Lindsey."

"Oh, and you're just the biggest grownup I know. Come on, Angel. I'm about to fall." And he was, his hands were starting to slip and his legs were shaking, and maybe a little desperation got through, because Angel sighed, and set up the ladder, and he clung to it like a baby monkey for a minute before unbending his knees far enough to creep down.

On the ground again, oh heavenly sidewalk. Oh, large annoyed vampire enemy. Uh-oh.

"Very bright idea, Linds. Turned out just as well as the rest of them, I see." He was doing that insouciant lounge against the wall, the one that made Lindsey want to just smack the smugness right out of him.

"Oh, yeah, Ange, like YOU'RE the king of the successful plan." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Wiped still-shaking, still-sweating palms against his jeans, and locked his knees to keep from collapsing.

"Ange?" One eyebrow raised.

"Linds?" Returned.

"I really don't think we're at an appropriate place in our relationship for pet names, Lindsey." Smirk. Fucker.

"Yeah, yeah, glad this is so amusing for you." The knees finally gave out, and he sat down HARD on the curb.

"You always amuse me. You're my own private court jester." But he made a little worried movement towards the curb himself. Lindsey smiled.

"Glad to be of service, as always. You know, since the antics of you and your little team of, um, crimefighters livened up many a board meeting, and all."

Scowl. Angel didn't think that was funny. Tough shit.

"Was that before or after you tried to ruin my life entirely?"

"Oh, during. Those were the best parts." Lindsey knew he had a positively evil grin sometimes, and he chose to exercise it now.

Angel took a threatening step forward, and loomed over him. Damn he was big. Too bad Lindsey was in no shape for running, at the moment. Crap. I think I'm getting a cramp.

"I didn't think it was very funny."

"I know." Surreptitiously trying to rub out the tightening in his thigh before it got really bad. Ouch.

"Feeling yourself up, now? We're in LA, even you should be able to find a willing hooker."

"NO, you ass, my leg is cramping up. Thanks to your little giggle-fit. That was really disturbing, Angel, don't laugh anymore."

"How can I help it, when you're around making an idiot of yourself all the time?"

Lindsey rolled his eyes, rubbed harder. OUCH! Couldn't really think of anything to say, when OUCH OUCH OUCH there it went, full cramp, ARGH! He could feel his teeth grinding, and bent over his legs, fingers digging in.


Can't talk now, Angel, please go away.

"You're not going to get me to feel bad for you, not when it was your own stupidity that got you up there in the first place."

Fine, whatever, go away.

"Shit. Lindsey, get up."

Can't. Go away.

"Get off my curb. Can't have you bringing down my property values."

"Shut UP! ARGH! FUCK this hurts. Shut UP, ANGEL!" he'd snapped, now he'd get killed, hooray for him. He knew he probably looked pathetic, curled over himself on the roadside. Maybe Angel would leave and he could get mugged, that would be just perfect.

"Huh. What are you supposed to do for a cramp?"

"I don't KNOW, ok? JESUS, just leave me alone!"

There were hands on him, pulling him up, and he couldn't really do much but whimper with the pain that moving sent through his whole body. Damn this. An arm around his waist, and he was getting hauled... into the hotel? Maybe Angel didn't want to kill him with an audience. He was dumped onto a couch unceremoniously, both hands still wrapped tight around his rigid thigh, OUCH, heard the chime of liquid hitting glass, and then there was a tumbler getting shoved into his face, and he could smell the scotch. Hey. Relax the muscle, right? He grabbed for it, gulped it down, could feel the burn in his throat and his stomach and waited. Looked up, and Angel was stitting beside him, looking disapproving.

"You really ARE low class. You don't SHOOT scotch. That took 25 years to make, show some respect."

"Fuck THAT," he gasped out, but he could feel a slight loosening, and almost sighed with the pleasure of less-pain. "I'm not trying to savor it, you idiot, I just want it to work."


"Yeah, yeah, stand up for the other old things you have laying around this place."

"I'm not that old!"

"Angel, you were around before this COUNTRY was. You're fuckin' ANCIENT."

"I was only twenty-three..."

"Doesn't make a difference. Just because you didn't AGE doesn't make you young. Though you wouldn't know it, the way you act. Do they have kindergarten for vampires?"

"Speaking of young. Hey, now that you're unemployed, maybe you should take up signmaking. It's an ancient and honorable profession. And if you try to hang 'em yourself, you could even charge admission."

It was the whiskey. It had to be, because he would NOT be almost smiling, otherwise.

"It's not a BAD idea. If your crayon-scribbles are anything to judge by, I wouldn't have much competition."

"Mine worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, thanks for almost getting me shot."

"Anytime." Angel got up, poured him another few fingers of that really very good scotch, got one for himself, came back. Lindsey was tempted to just down this one too, but he didn't think he could get off the couch to escape if he did. He sipped, delicately. Nice.

"So. What ARE you going to do?" Angel actually sounded curious.

"Why? You gonna miss me?"

Snort. "Yeah, almost as much as I miss a stake in my heart."

"Hey, there's an idea. I could arrange that, you know, since you're all excited about it."

"Sarcasm, Linds. Look it up."

"MORE sarcasm, Ange, I'm the one who actually went to college here, and boy does it show."

"How's the leg? Can I amputate? I mean, now that you're all used to being without a limb... shouldn't be a shock or anything."

"Oh, VERY funny. So funny I wish I could kill myself."


"No. Moron."

Angel was smiling, even though he kept drinking to try to hide it. Lindsey felt an answering tug at his own lips. No, not finding Angel funny here. Or. Shudder. Cute. Not at all.




"Hey, you fuck up almost as often as I do."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Oh, shit, I left my guitar in the back of the truck!" Lindsey bolted up, fell back. Lots of whiskey fast on empty stomach and still-weak left leg, not good for standing. Check.

"I'm sure it's gone already."

"No, no, it can't be, I gotta go get it..." He struggled to his feet, limped slowly and painfully towards the door. Felt eyes on him, heard the sigh.

"Lindsey, sit down. I'll check. Jesus, you're a pain in the ass."

He turned, hobbled back. Batted his eyelashes.

"Angel, you're my HERO." Smiled his biggest and most insincere smile.

"Don't make me regret this more than I already do." He stood, stomped out the door.

It was awfully quiet in here. High ceilings, dark. Lots of empty air. He wondered if Angel ever got lonely here. Nah. Perfect place for brooding, after all, though Angel didn't seem particularly broody when HE was around. He felt himself grinning.

Heard the door swing open, then shut, open again, "shit!", and SLAM. Huh. Guess Angel wasn't so good at handling doors and guitar cases at the same time. Damned if HE was getting off the couch to help the big strong manly vampire, though.

"Lindsey..." His guitar and duffel bag were dropped at his feet, and he winced at the jangle of abused strings.

"Hey! Go easy on that! That's a Taylor Classic, I'll have you know."

"It's a WHAT? And you're VERY welcome, by the way."

"A Taylor Classic." He bent down, popped the latches on the case, took out the guitar to check for cracks. "It's ok, baby, the big mean vampire didn't mean to hurt you..." He crooned to it. His baby. Angel was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "WHAT? I mean, I know you're musically impaired, or something, but even you should know better than to go around dropping instruments."

"I'm not musically impaired!"

"Yeah, right. I've heard you sing." Shudder.

"What? When?"

"At Caritas. You didn't see me. You were singing Manilow. MANILOW, Angel!"

"HEY! I like Manilow!"

"Not if you were singing his stuff like THAT, you don't."

Was Angel pouting? Yes, yes he was.

"Not like you're so much better. What was that caterwauling you were doing up there the other night?"

Lindsey just looked at him, in disbelief. He'd worked his way through law school, singing. People paid to hear him play. He knew damn well what he sounded like. Could it be...

"Angel, are you tone deaf?"

"No, and at least I'm not really, really short."

"No," he shook his head impatiently, "it's a serious question. Can you tell the difference between this-" he strummed an easy C chord, "and this?" He modulated to E.

"Yeah. Kind of. One's... higher, right?" Ah, confusion in those dark eyes.

"No wonder you can't sing. You're tone deaf. It's a thing, you can't really tell the difference between notes."

"I can."

"No, you can't."

"I CAN!"

"Ok, fine." He sniffed, kept playing. He loved to play when he was drunk. Was he drunk? Yeah, kinda. Good scotch. He paused to hold out his glass. Looked at Angel.

"I don't know if you get another one, after the way you treated the first one."

"Come ON, Angel, get over it. It's good stuff. I admit it. I'll treat it with the respect due its age."

"Haven't proved it so far."

"Angel, you're like a ten year old in a bicentenian body. Come on."

"I don't think that's a word, Linds."

"Get me a DRINK, Ange."

"Fine." He got up, again. Came back, again, and sat on the other side of Lindsey, watching his hands. Nothing complicated, a nice little 12-bar blues, just right for the hotel and the darkness. He didn't sing. Angel wouldn't appreciate it anyway. Tone-deaf bastard.

"Is that hard?" The voice almost startled him.

"Nah. I've been playing since I was little."

"You're still little."

"Fuck off, Angel." No heat, though. This was... nice.

"Think I could learn?"

"Probably." He probably could. Chords were nice and structured, no ear required. Well, mostly.

"Show me?"

What? OK, this was Twilight Zone time. He felt himself nod, hand over the guitar, saw Angel's big hands fold around the neck--lucky fuck, long fingers, no problems reaching for the chords,and hey, long fingers meant, no, not going there at all--and look up at him expectantly.


Whiskey and someone to talk to. This was actually not the nightmare he'd thought it would be. And he COULD tell the difference between good music and bad music. Mostly. He could tell that Lindsey knew what he was doing, at least. And he'd always wanted to learn to play an instrument. He ignored the little voice that suggested that no, he really hadn't, that he actually kind of wanted an excuse to keep Lindsey here a little longer, because he was funny, and he did that eyelash-batting thing that made Angel's stomach flip. That little voice needed to shut up. He took another swallow of the scotch. Glenlivet.

"OK, so, first, you have to hold it right."

"Yeah, that's what I said, but she wouldn't listen." Oh god, had that really come out of his mouth? From Lindsey's surprised grin, it had.

"No dirty jokes, Angel, you'll sully your image."

He grunted. "Show me."

"Quit attempting to grow a sense of humor, and I will."

"FINE, get to it, already."

"Valley girl."

"Are you going to show me how to play this, so that after I kill you it won't be neglected?"

"Sure. Fine. This hand goes HERE..." Warm hands folding around his fingers, moving them into place, and it was awfully nice to be touched.

"Now, this is A. Very easy chord. Just hold down the strings, and, strum. No, you have to do it a little faster than that, playing each string one by one doesn't sound good."

"You were doing it that way."

"I was fingerpicking, Angel. You're not quite there yet. Now strum."

He strummed. It sounded pretty good. He grinned up at Lindsey, who smiled back. Nice smile. Nice eyes. Oh, shit, he was drunk.

"OK, here's E. Also easy. Just..." Angel wasn't even pretending to pay attention any more. Pretty Lindsey. Who had smelled like another man on MORE than one occasion. He let his fingers get moved around, strummed again, still sounded pretty good. So did D. And then...

"OK, you now know the three chords that comprise a song. Actually a couple."

"Like what?"

"Um... you know Janis Joplin?"


"She's DEAD, Angel." Lindsey was rolling his eyes a lot. "She was only the greatest blues singer of the 70's. OK, ONE of the greatest. But still."


"Why am I not surprised. Um... how about 'Scarborough Fair?' Folk song, right vintage for you." He smirked. Angel wanted to lick him.


"OK, fine. You know three chords which make up songs that you don't know. That's enough. Here endeth the lesson. Which rock have you been living under? Was it comfortable?"

"I was living in sewers eating rats. It wasn't very fun."

"Are you sure? Seems like you'd found your natural place in the order of things, really."

Suddenly, Angel was tired. Tired of the banter, tired of the guitar, tired of this night. He put down the guitar, carefully, and stood.

"Yeah, well. I'm going to bed, you're leaving. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." He tried to move away, but a hand grabbed his wrist. A right hand. Seemed like Lindsey was getting those reflexes back just fine. He looked down, into a frown.

"Siddown, Angel, and quit being such a girl."

"I am NOT a girl."

"Are so." Lindsey was grinning now.

"Am not." He was grinning too. How did he DO this to him?

"Are SO!"

"Am NOT! And I'll prove it..."

His mind had to be completely gone. It was obviously Lindsey's fault. Because when he bent down and kissed him, HARD, pushing him back into the couch, Lindsey didn't punch him or bite him or anything, just kind of melted, and made a little moaning sound in the back of his throat that sounded like sex, and grabbed his shoulders and his hair. He let himself play, for just a minute, in the hot wet heat of Lindsey's mouth, tasting scotch and spice and want, letting his weight settle a little into the hands that were curving into him, onto the body on the couch.

Pulled back.

"If I was a girl, LINDS, you wouldn't be making that noise."

Dazed blue eyes stared up at him, blinked. A tongue came out to taste his lips. Those were kissing lips. Cocksucking lips. Good thing Lindsey was bent enough to make good use of them.


He smirked, still leaning over Lindsey.

"I can smell them. Vampire perk. You don't smell like women very often, Lin."

"You mean you can tell when anyone gets laid?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Yeah. And who, mostly, and when."

"That doesn't bug you? With the curse and all?"

"Not anymore. I get to have sex now. Kind of."

"Hey. Excellent." And he reached up, grabbed another handful of Angel, and pulled him down.


Okay, probably not the brightest idea of his career, but Lindsey had made a habit of poor impulse control, so why stop now? And Angel's mouth had been cool and sweet, and the weight above him was comforting, and he was drunk, and he was leaving town anyway. Plus, he'd thought Angel was the hottest thing on legs since the first time he'd met him. About as sharp as a sack of wet mice, but hot.

And now he was kissing him. It was good. Better than good, it was delicious. He wouldn't make any more age cracks, if two hundred odd years of experience taught someone how to kiss like this. Oh, who was he kidding, of course he would. But he appreciated it anyway. And he stopped thinking.

Big hands on him, just holding his waist, and a wide mouth that fit against his own just right. Angel was still kind of half-leaning over the couch, his knees braced on the cushions between Lin's knees, and a tongue slipping out to taste him, tangle with his own, lick at his lips until he was whimpering. He was very, very hard. So, apparently, was Angel, because when he was lifted and flipped, and laid down god that was easy for him Angel came down on top of him, cradled between his legs, and the evidence was, so to speak, to hand. And oh, the feeling... strong, big body over his, hands in his hair, now, and he was almost sorry he'd cut it, because then they'd be tangled there and that was always a good thing. Mouth slipping down to taste his throat, and his head was back, and maybe he should be worried. Nope. Angel was a card carrying Good Guy.

He squeaked when Angel dipped down and lapped at the hollow above his collarbone. How had his shirt come unbuttoned? Angel was smiling, he could feel that mouth move against him, even as he was kneading at overgelled hair with anxious hands. Because this felt so. fucking. good. Full-body tingle, oh yeah. Right where-JESUS-Angel's thigh was right THERE, and he was rocking against it, and that mouth was on his nipple, and all he could do was rock and gasp and try to breathe. Why hadn't they done this before? Oh, yeah, enemies, hand, whatever. Hey, evil hand. He grinned, even in the middle of his fever. Reached around Angel, grabbed a cheek, and PINCHED.

"Whu?" Angel shot up, a dazed look in his eyes. Maybe he'd been enjoying the rocking, too.

"Sorry. Evil hand." He held it up, wiggled the fingers, like proof.

"WHAT?" Angel looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or kill him. He was still really hard, though, so Lindsey figured he was safe.

"You know. Evil hand. Can't help myself." He batted his eyelashes again, since it had seemed to work well last time.

"Yeah?" Apparently the eyelashes and the hardon had won. Angel was grinning like a madman. "What else does it do?"

"Oh, this and that. I can't really predict it. It's got a mind of its own, you know." He reached down, between their bodies. Grabbed something hard, and stroked a few times, enjoyed Angel's full-body shudder and the way his head fell back and his eyes slid shut. Then let go. "This and that." He kept smiling.

"Well, let it know that this and that is fine, but if it does any more pinching it's going to find itself in the garbage disposal." Lindsey liked the way Angel's eyes were crinkled up.

"Angel, a garbage disposal? That's awfully twentieth century of you. Are you sure you know how to work it?"

"Yeah, pretty sure."

"I'm so proud."

"Lindsey, shut up." He pushed his hips down, and Lindsey whimpered and arched up, and Angel leaned in and kissed him again.


It was strange. This was so... friendly. No rush, no pressure, just heat and a gorgeous body underneath his, and, of course, the evil hand. God. Could Lindsey be any more ridiculous? Funny, though. Which was great, because it had been way too long since he had laughed in bed. In couch.

"This couch is too short."

"Speak for yourself. I'm perfectly comfortable." Lindsey stretched his arms above his head luxuriantly, then let them drop back around Angel's neck. They felt pretty good there.

"We can't all be midgets."

"I'm not a midget, you're just freakishly big."

"Freakishly? I'll bet it's easier for me to find clothes than you."

"Whatever. Angel, the evil hand is getting ideas again."

"Yeah? I'm liking that hand, recently."

"I think you'll like it more in a minute."

He reached down, and there was the rough sound of a zipper and a hand right where he wanted it, and then his pants were getting shoved down his hips, and ok, maybe there was a little rush, because the feel of Lindsey's jeans against his crotch was setting him on fire. He nibbled at the side of Lindsey's neck, tasting sweat-salt-hot, feeling hands slide over his hips, down to the top of his thighs, back up to run under his shirt, push it up. Yes, he was a fan of the evil hand. Hot fingers on his back, tracing his ribs, and he moved back to Lindsey's mouth. Couldn't get enough of that mouth. Shirt off now. Yeah. Acres of soft skin. Softest skin, delicate under his fingertips. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed that before, what with all the Lindsey-torture he'd indulged in. OK, remember the guilt, have to hang on to the soul, but don't let it get in the way. Not with that sinful mouth available to him, and muscles bunching and flexing under his hands as Lindsey twisted and moaned. He was panting now. Little short breaths that were bringing him the smell of the man with him, taking it deep into his lungs, tasting it. He WANTED this.

Grabbed for the buttonfly jeans, and a yank and pull and the buttons popped off. Linds looked torn between laughter and shock, lips swollen and kiss-red, hands still on Angel's back, one shifting down to his hip.

"I need to WEAR those."

"Get 'em fixed. Send me the bill." Angel growled, hauling them down past his hips, getting stuck at his feet. He growled again, pulled them back up, stared at Lindsey's feet. Wondered if he would be kicked off the couch if he laughed, because...

Nice boots, Lindsey. HAH!

He decided to bite his lip, tugged at the boots. Frowned. Tugged again. Looked up, and Lindsey was grinning at him.

"How do you get these off?"

"What? The great vamp detective, beaten by a pair of cowboy boots?" Smirk.

Angel leaned up, bared his teeth.

"Oh, I can get 'em off. But do you want to WEAR them again?"

"Damn, Angel, calm down. Here." He toed at one boot's heel, popped it off. Then held up the other one and looked at Angel expectantly.

"Do I look like a valet to you?"

"Do you really want me to answer that? More importantly, do you want my jeans to come off?" Those damn big innocent eyes. Angel wasn't buying it.

"All I really need is one leg." He looked contemplatively down, pushed and pulled Lindsey's bootless leg out of the jeans. Stripped out of his own, fast, yanked his shirt off, and fell back down. Lindsey was laughing again, and trying to pull his own boot off, so when Angel hit him he was all bunched up, and got smashed flat.

"Angel, get OFF!"

"I'm trying! You're not helping!"


Lindsey should laugh more. Looked good on him. He helped with the boot and the jeans, and finally, finally, naked. Both of them. And he didn't care that his feet were hanging off the end of the couch, because he was hard, and SO close to coming, and Lindsey was rubbing up against him like a cat, and his eyes were heavy, and those ridiculous lashes were making him want to do things.

"Can we..."

"What?" Neither of them were breathing well.


"Angel, you think you're putting THAT in THERE, you're nuts."

He was a little hurt.

"You've done it before."

"Yeah, but Angel, you're. Well. Rather large."

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Angel, you're a freak. Accept it."

"Please? I'll be so so careful."

"Jesus. Are you going to whine about it?"


"Fine. Lube is my friend."

"Don't suppose you have any?"

"Duffel bag. Front pocket."

"I'm so impressed."

"You'd better be."

Lube found and applied, and he hoped Lindsey couldn't see his hands shaking, but then, Lindsey wasn't paying much attention, since he was running his hands all over Angel. Hoped he liked what he was feeling, because it felt pretty great from this end. He slid one slick finger down past the crease of Lindsey's hip, felt the buck and shiver when he touched his cock, gave it a quick pull, it was hot and velvet in his hand, and he lingered, just enjoying the feel. Kissed him again, enjoying the taste. His hand was slick with pre-come, now, and when he dropped his fingers, Lin tilted his hips obligingly, moaning into his mouth. Two fingers in, and Lindsey took him easily, arching and pushing. Slut. In a good way. He twisted them, looking for the sweet spot... FOUND it, because he'd never heard Lindsey make that noise before, and the panting was harsh now, like there wasn't enough air in the room. Three fingers, and Lindsey's hands were rough on him now, pulling and grabbing at his hips, and he was sucking his tongue like he could find the meaning of life there.

It would be a little harder this way, if he remembered correctly, but he wanted to see that face when he came. He pulled his fingers free, swallowed the 'noooo', lifted one of Lindsey's legs over his shoulder. Good thing he was flexible. He lined himself up right, and pushed. Just a little. Lindsey froze.

"Slow... Angel..." The hands on his hips were holding him, now.

"Ok... ok..." He was biting his own lip to keep from howling. SO close. He shifted a little, experimentally. Felt the body underneath him relax, open. He slid in a little further, felt the tight burning grip, blood-hot fist of muscle around him. Held still. Pushed again, and Lindsey wrapped the other leg around his waist, and pulled him in, and OH FUCK this was amazing. In all the way, and rocking SO gently, and Lindsey was making this incredible keening noise, and his skin was sliding slick against Angel, and his hands were wild. So intent, intense, and so. damn. hot.

He moved up a little, bracing on his arms, got a better angle, and pushed. Lifted onto one hand so he could reach between them and get a grip on Lindsey, who was just out of his head now, blinking fast and biting Angel's lips and babbling nonsense sounds. A few more strokes and he was gone, he could feel it coming, but Lindsey beat him there, arching up off the couch and coming hard, all the muscles in that clean, hard body tensing, beautiful. And when he came he tightened, and this time Angel couldn't help it, he DID howl, and pressed in one more time, unwilling to leave, unwilling for this to end, but he couldn't help it, couldn't. And that hot rush of feeling in his thighs, his back, the prickling in his scalp, that unbelievable tightness between his legs, and one more push, and he was gone.


Lindsey was having trouble breathing. He couldn't tell if that was because of the mind-blowing orgasm, or the fact that Angel was still in him and probably not leaving room for his lungs to function, or that Angel was on top of him and was, after all, huge. He shoved at him a little.

"Don't you fall asleep on me."


"Sure. Get off, before I die."

"I did already."

"Ha fuckin' ha. Your gigantic ass is suffocating me, Angel. Roll, or something."

He rolled, but took Lindsey with him, so they were face to face on their sides. Lindsey felt the cold air hit the sweat on his back, and shivered a little, and big arms came around him and pulled him closer.

"You're not exactly a space heater, Ange."

"Pardon me for keeping your ass from hanging in the wind, Linds." But neither of them moved. Just breathed, for a minute, or Lindsey did and Angel watched him.

"Well." The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but he did feel like breaking it. Just because.


"That was... fun."

"I told you I'd fit."

"Barely. You freak."

"Who's the freak, the guy with the big dick or the guy who takes it?"

"Oh, nice. Here I am, all acommodating, and you call me names."

"I've been calling you names since the day we met. Good sex isn't going to change that."

"It WAS pretty good."

"Yeah. Best I've had in a long time."

"Which for you, could really be centuries."

"Let's not start that again. Just say thank you for the compliment, Lindsey."

"Thank you for the compliment, Lindsey."

"You really are four."

"If I am, you just did a very very bad thing."

"Oh, disgusting."

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Comfortable silence again, and Lindsey was almost drifting off. The last remnants of the whiskey were making him tired, and he was comfortable, if a bit sticky. Angel stroked his hair.

"You staying here tonight?"

"Am I invited?"


"Are you going to eat me in my sleep?"

"Only in the best possible way."

"OK." Yawn. "Wake me up early, though, I'm supposed to be in Mississippi by Wednesday."


"Yeah, I'm going to try to get a recording contract or something."

"OK. I'll wake you up by nine."

"Thanks, Angel."

Silence. Almost sleep.

"Can I call you Angelina?"


"Shit. You are NO fun."

"Whatever, Lindsey. Go to sleep already."

"Valley..." yawn "... girl..."

[the end. please don't kill me.]

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