On the Other Side

Chapter 25


Spike killed the car, removing the keys from the ignition and pocketing them. He looked at his watch – Twenty minutes early. Bouncing in his seat slightly, he sighed, tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. He glanced down, eyeing himself appraisingly; he was wearing a dark blue button-up he’d stolen from Xander’s closet, his least-faded black denims, and, of course, his leather coat, belt, and Docs.

He’d spent an hour debating about which shirt to wear – the blue shirt was one Xander had actually picked out for Spike, saying it brought out the color of Spike’s eyes, but Spike had refused it, insisting he only wore black. The younger boy had kept it, however, so when Spike had rummaged through the brunet’s clothes, he’d found it and tried it on, remembering what Xander had said about the color. Xander had been right, so he’d worn it, but now he was having second thoughts. Black was his trademark. Without the black, he wasn’t Spike, he was…. He sighed wearily; he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

He plucked at the blue material nervously; he should have worn the black. He grabbed the keys from his pocket and glanced at his watch again. He cursed. Only fifteen minutes left; he didn’t have time to go home and change.

Resigning himself to looking like a Grade A ponce, he exited the De Soto. Shoving his keys back into his pocket and securing his wallet, he crossed the street and approached Angel’s dorm.

He rang the doorbell and stepped back, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans. The door was opened by a big, somewhat familiar-looking black man who…had no hair. Spike gaped at the man, who grinned and extended one of his large, dark hands. Spike absently shook the other boy’s hand while his brain scrambled to identify where he’d seen the man…who had no hair.

“Charles Gunn, but everyone ‘round here calls me Gunn. You’re here to see Angel, right?” Gunn grinned again.

Spike grinned back; Gunn had a very nice smile. “Yeah, ‘m Spike.” The older boy released his hand and he slipped it into his coat pocket, fingering his keys nervously. “I’m a little early, I guess.”

“It’s no big.” Gunn stepped further into the building, opening the door a little wider so Spike could pass. “Come on in, bro. I’ll show you where Angel’s room is.”

Spike followed the other boy out of the foyer and through a lobby where about twenty guys were watching the biggest telly Spike had ever seen. As they headed up the stairs, Spike finally realized where he’d seen Gunn before. “Hey! You’re that guy!”

Gunn paused and turned towards Spike. “What guy?”

“The guy that hooked up with the brunette chit I was eyeing at the party last week. I knew you looked familiar.”

Gunn’s smile turned wolfish. “Yeah, she was a piece of work alright. Great set on her, if you know what I mean.”

The black man elbowed Spike playfully, pushing him into the handrail. Spike winced as it mashed one of the finger-shaped bruises on his hips. He steadied himself and was just about to proceed up the stairs, but a large figure blocked his way.

“Hey, man,” Gunn’s whole demeanor had changed; he leaned forward, his voice low and soft, yet somehow…frightening. “I don’t know what you think this is, but Angel seems to think this is a date. I don’t know what your deal is, but if you’re not into Angel then I advise you to leave now, before I remove your ass from the premises. “

Spike stumbled back a step. “Huh?” He took another step back. “W-what?”

Gunn sighed, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the banister. “Look, man, I just don’t want to see my bro up there get hurt.”

“Why would I hurt Angel?”

Closing the distance between them, Gunn leaned forward, speaking in softer tones. “I guess you didn’t know this, but Angel’s gay. He really likes you and he thinks this is a date.”

Spike’s brow furrowed in confusion. “It is a date, you wanker.”

“Hey, now.” Gunn straightened in warning, then looked confused as well. “You’re going on a date with Angel…but what about the chick?”

“I don’t even know her name, Gunn.”

“No, I get that. I just mean…girl…” He pointed towards the lobby where the party had taken place, “boy…” then turned his head to look upstairs, presumably to Angel’s room.

Spike’s eyes widened. “I-I…” He looked to the floor to hide the blush that stole over his face. He flinched when a meaty fist hit his shoulder, glancing up at Gunn reflexively.

The wolf-grin was back. “You dawg! I see how it is.”

Gunn gave Spike a few slaps on the back in a manly gesture of approval before turning, once again, towards the stairs. “Man, I’m sorry about that. Angel’s like family, ya know, and, as tough as he looks, he’s nothin’ but a big ol’ softie inside.”

Spike smiled. “I understand completely; it’s nice that he’s got someone watchin’ out for him.” He followed Gunn up the staircase and down a hallway.

Gunn didn’t knock, but simply opened the door a bit and leaned in. Spike could just see Angel over the other boy’s shoulders; he was on his hands and knees, peering under the ugliest sofa Spike had ever seen.

Gunn opened his mouth to say something, but Spike was quicker, pressing two fingers over the black man’s mouth. Gunn looked up in shock, but Spike’s face told him all he needed to know. He grinned wryly and left Spike in the doorway, silently mouthing ‘Later’ and offering a small wave as he left.

Spike let himself in Angel’s room and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, watching as Angel poked about under the sofa, muttering, at one time catching something about a ‘damn shoe.’ Glancing around, he spotted a shoe resting on a heap of papers on the desk in the corner. He glanced at Angel’s feet; it appeared to be a match.

He walked over to the desk and picked it up, clearing his throat. “This what you’re looking for?”

Angel jerked up from the floor with a start, slipping into a grin when he saw Spike, then just as quickly, scowling at the offending item Spike held in his hands. He stood and walked over, relieving Spike of his shoe. “Thanks.”

Spike watched as Angel knelt to put the shoe on, sucking in a harsh breath when the brunet glanced up at him from the floor. Their eyes locked. Angel rose slowly, never breaking eye contact.

They stood like that, unmoving, for several minutes.

Spike’s brain was working frantically for something to say, but he’d been sucked into soulful brown eyes and he wasn’t sure he’d ever escape – wasn’t really sure he wanted to. He watched, transfixed, as Angel moved forward an inch. His eyes flickered to the other boy’s lips. He’d thought of them so many times during the afternoon; how they’d felt pressed against his; how it would feel to pull that pouty lower lip into his mouth; how it would feel to slip his tongue between them.

He moved an inch closer to Angel, who responded by taking a step forward and tilting his head. Spike leaned into the larger boy, tilting his head as well, subconsciously gnawing on his bottom lip. He watched as Angel’s eyes slid closed and felt his eyelids drooping as well. Breath caught in his throat, he leaned forward and…kissed Angel’s chin.

His eyes popped open, meeting Angel’s eyes, which mirrored his own shock and confusion. Lips still pressed against Angel’s face, he watched as Angel blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter. Spike felt himself smile as Angel moved his head, pressing his forehead against Spike’s. They giggled against each other until Spike felt that damned blush creeping up his neck and, still chuckling, pulled back, ducking his head and looking at the floor. Angel’s shoes were nice.

He’d just managed to stifle his laughter when a hand curled around his neck and Angel pressed their lips together. It was better than he’d imagined.

Soft and wet and smooth, Angel’s lips slid against Spike’s, rubbing together and drawing a soft grunt from Spike’s chest. Angel’s fingers softly massaged the fine hairs at the back of his neck, while a calloused thumb traced circles on the underside of his jaw. Opening his mouth just a bit, he drew Angel’s bottom lip into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and lightly nipping it with his teeth, while Angel’s tongue fluttered gently against his top lip. Somehow, Angel’s free hand found one of his, grasping it and twining their fingers together. Spike’s other hand landed softly in the center of Angel’s chest, his index finger slipping between the buttons of Angel’s shirt, lightly rubbing the skin.

His body buzzing with nerves, Spike pulled away and inhaled deeply, dazed and blinking at the brunet. He watched as Angel slowly came back to himself and smiled, squeezing Spike’s hand.

Angel took a step towards the door. “Shall we?”