Rating: NC17 overall.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing. Certainly not the characters or products
mentioned in this story and unfortunately, the Bee makes no profit from it.
Summary: This story is a light hearted comedy/mystery.
It is based slightly (very slightly) on the plot of the old movie
"House Of Long Shadows". It is an HUA that tells the story of a very successful
mystery writer, Alexander Harris, who is suffering from a severe case of writer's
block. Against his better judgement, he accepts a $10,000.00 bet with his
publisher after claiming he can crank out a full manuscript in a 24 hour period. This
short story is his struggle to do that and the bizarre obstacles that pop up.
Warnings: Sexual dialogue and M/M slashy acts.
As always, special thanks to the amazing Petxnd for her wonderful banners.
Spike reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. He shook
one out, sensually placed it between his lips and began patting down his body in
search of the ever elusive lighter.
"Oh! No! Oh no he isn't!"
Buffy jumped to her feet and flounced across the living room to where Angel stood
by the fireplace. She stood inches from his face and pointed an accusing finger
behind her in Spike's direction.
"He is NOT going to smoke that damn thing in here is he? Do you know what
second hand smoke does to your lungs? And your skin? It will age and wrinkle
my perfect face 1.3 years just being in the same room with him if he smokes that
Angel groaned and turned to Spike who was indeed planning on despoiling her
epidermis, and apparently with great gusto if the grin on his face was any indication.
Angel shook his head imploringly.
"Spike, Just put the damn thing out or at least go outside to smoke it."
Spike calmly inhaled deeply as he casually sauntered over toward the far end of
the room. When he reached the fireplace, he blew the smoke directly into Angel's
face. The reaction was immediate. While Angel meekly turned his head and
coughed, Buffy flew at Spike, fists raised and teeth bared.
"Why you fucking weasel! Wait till I bust you in your smart ass English talking mouth
and then lets see if you can still hold a fucking cigarette between those lips when
the are all fat and bloody."
Spike too, turned in anger. He had had enough of this fucking bitch.
"Bring it on, you stupid cunt."
Instantly before they could come to physical blows, Angel grabbed Buffy's wrist
causing her fist to swing by, barely missing the tip of Spike's nose. When it did,
Spike's expression quickly changed. He stared at Angel's left hand and he leered.
"Well, well, well, Peaches. Does the little woman know where and with who
you spend your nights?"
The strange shift in the tone and conversation caused both Angel and Buffy
to pause. Buffy stood back and Angel blinked in confusion.
"It's whom, not who, and what the hell are you talking about. Buffy is right here.
Buffy is my girlfriend and we spend all our time together."
The last sentence sounded as though it had been written and read off a comment
card and from the proud look on Buffy's face, Spike could guess who the author
of that card was. Slouching back against the mantle, Spike took another long
pleasurable drag on the offending cigarette and blew out the smoke.
"Oh, I don't doubt she's your girlfriend, Mate, I was just wondering how your wife
felt about her."
The look that shot between Buffy and Angel was priceless and Spike knew his
pub dart had hit the bullseye.
Spike yawned and scratched his nuts.
"Southern California is a wonderful place. You macho blokes always out and about
frolicking in the sun shine. Gives a body a right lovely tan, it does. Unfortunately it
also brands a fellow. Even if you take your wedding ring off, the white band on your
finger is a dead give a way."
Angel's expression flashed to horror and guilt as he quickly stuffed his left hand in
his pocket. Buffy, on the other hand, chose outrage and betrayal as her emotion of
the moment. Her whole body went rigid and her hand clutched her throat dramatically.
"WHAT? You're married? You cad? How could you....."
Finally, Angel just huffed.
"Give it a rest, Buffy. Yeah, all right, Spike. You got me. I cheat on my wife.
I sneak off here to this supposedly abandoned mansion in the evening and I boink
my girlfriend so my wife doesn't know. Somehow I doubt I'm the first man in history
to fuck around behind his wife's back."
Buffy sneered, crossed her arms and stood by her man.
"Yep, that's it. I'm the other woman. Jealous? Wish it was you I was coming
up here to meet?"
"Not likely. I try not to swim in a pool that a dozen people have already peed in."
When Buffy again tried to swing a punch, Angel grabbed her around the waist,
picked her up and set her off to the side. Before the furious 'other woman' could
chastise him, Spike frowned and looked in the direction of the doorway.
"Hey, what's taking that redhead so long? She could have made a dozen pots of
coffee by now."
"Oh, so now you're suspicious of Willow too? You ought to be thanking her. She's
the one that got the generator fixed. If it were up to you, we'd still be twiddling our
thumbs in the dark."
"What? Are you fucking kidding me? All she did was point out a couple pulled wires,
which, by the way, seems odd that she knew exactly where they were, then she suddenly
bolts for the house to get a fucking drink of water leaving me to do all the repair work.
Fuckin' A right, I'm suspicious of her. Now, where the fuck is she?"
Right on cue, Willow strolled in, a smile on her lips and a bounce in her step.
"Here I am. I wanted to check on our visitor, you know, make sure he had his
lights back on and he was all right."
Spike visibly relaxed and dropped his cigarette on the polished oak floor where he
ground it out with the toe of his shoe.
"And is he?"
"I'd say, VERY all right."
Spike's foot stopped in mid twist and he glared at her.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
Willow fluffed her hair with her hands to give the moment a dramatic pause.
"Well, our guest of honor apparently was just given the grand prize and from the
lack of any residual evidence, I would hazard a guess that it was oral and swallowed.
And damn good if the expression on his face means anything."
Spike's eyeballs threatened to pop from his head and his entire small body shook
with rage. He balled his fists up and spun around to face the other three.
"All right! Fess up! Which one of you bastards gave my boy a blow job?"
Willow raised her eyebrows. Buffy again tried for shocked and confused.
Angel stared at the scorch mark Spike's butt made on the hard wood floor.
But no one was confessing. Spike was ready to grab each by the neck and start
smelling some breaths when the door flew open.
"Well, well, looks like the natives are restless."
Xander's entrance snapped them all back.