Old Enemies... (S/X)

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Part 5
Even the way the blond moved was like a sort of poetry, Elliot thought. Like watching water flow effortlessly over and around rocks in a stream, although water didn't have that slight sense of menace to it that the blond was obviously trying to hide.
Elliot recognized it, though. He hadn't always restricted his games to collars and leashes. Hell, before he'd run into Harris, he'd tried some truly dark things and while they hadn't really taken, he could still recognize danger when he saw it.

Still, whatever had happened between the blond and the dark haired guy, the Spark looking guy hadn't hurt the other one. They appeared to have parted on good terms, so... maybe he'd just take a shot and tell the man what he had in mind. For the promotional thing, anyway. He'd be damned if he was going to mention the other thoughts flashing through his mind.

He waited until the blond took up a spot against the far wall, obviously scanning the crowd, then Elliot headed to the bar again. "Margarita and whatever sex on a stick is drinking," he said with a grin at the bartender.

Mike chuckled and got the drinks, wondering if he could maybe hire the blond by the wall. He'd made more money on drinks bought for the guy than he ever would have believed. He had no idea of where the man was putting it all, either, but he didn't look drunk or even buzzed, really. Handy skill to have, he figured.

Elliot forced his mind to business as he approached the other blond. "Hi," he said, leaning against the wall beside him and handing him the beer. "I'm Elliot," he added. "Elliot Washburn of Hamsterville Publishing. You have my card in your pocket." He nodded slightly, carefully not looking down at the man's groin.

Spike looked at the beer in his hand and took a long swallow. "Right," he said after a moment. "Somethin' about a job, you said?"

Elliot nodded quickly. "Yeah. And wow, your voice is perfect, too. You could totally be the basis for Spark. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about. How old are you? Never mind, you're obviously old enough, considering where you are and I'm shutting up now." He blushed. Damn Harrison! His propensity for babble was obviously catching.

Spike found himself laughing. He hadn't heard that many words expelled all on one breath in years. Not since... he frowned suddenly and sighed. Would the past never stop haunting him?

"Ta for th' compliment, mate. Like my voice right well myself, too." He nodded, shaking off the sadness. "As for how old I am... I look a good bit younger than is strictly true." And wasn't THAT an understatement? "Call it thirty-three an' you'd be close enough." If you added a hundred, he chuckled to himself.

His eyes widened hugely and Elliot stared at the man. "No WAY! Jesus Christ... you must have the best genetics EVER." He sighed softly. "That is SO not fair. You're older than I am and you look like you could be my kid brother. Shit."

Spike shrugged. "I tend ta avoid th' sun, mate. I've heard that helps."

"It must," Elliot said grumpily before smiling just as suddenly as he'd frowned and taking a sip of his drink. "Okay. The job."

"I'm not doin' porn," Spike said suddenly, his brain putting together publishing, the gay bar and the concern over his age in exactly the wrong fashion. "Don't care how much you're payin', I'm not takin' my clothes off an' I'm for bloody damned sure not bangin' a bunch of blokes I don't even know for your amusement. Not on camera, anyway," he added after half a second, during which the other man was silent.

The agent blinked, his eyes even wider as he heard what mister sexy said. It took him a moment to regroup. "Okay... uh, we publish BOOKS. Not porn books, either." He thought for a moment, sipping his margarita. "Well, okay. Maybe a few of our authors push the boundaries, but it's still printed words, not pictures..." He sighed. "Okay, let me start again."

Spike watched curiously as the other blond went back to the bar and returned with two new drinks.

He handed one to the platinum haired man and stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Elliot Washburn and I'd like to offer you a job doing promotion for my client's new book. You look an awful lot like one of his characters, you see."

If Spike could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he shook the guy's hand and chuckled. "Sorry, mate. Read you all wrong there, didn't I? I'm Sp... Will," he said, falling back on the name he used with humans. Wouldn't want the demons around to be able to track him that way, after all. There were hundreds if not thousands of 'Wills' in New York. This way, he was just another of a group. Much less obvious.

Elliot's pale brows rose high enough that they almost disappeared under the hair hanging down over his forehead. "Spwill? Interesting name..." It had sounded an awful lot like the guy was going to say 'Spark', he noticed. Well, maybe the he was a big fan of Harrison's and was paying homage to the character.

Spike shrugged. "No, bloke. 's just Will. Will will do."

A shrug answered that statement and Elliot leaned a little bit closer, not wanting to shout quite so loudly as he explained more about the position he had in mind for 'Will'.

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"Come ON, Harris!" Elliot demanded, leaning against the wall of his friend's hotel room. "You're already pretty enough, okay?" He rolled his eyes. God, he had no idea of how it could be taking him so long just to get dressed! "Throw on some pants and a shirt and let's GO!"

Harris looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his new eye patch just so. It was his favourite, he decided. The subtle silk stitching, black on black, relieved the severity of the leather patch. It almost made it look like a fashion choice rather than a necessity. And the fact that it almost perfectly matched the leather pants he had on didn't hurt either, he acknowledged silently.
He slid his feet into the tall engineer boots and straightened again, adjusting the open collar of his sapphire blue silk shirt, then nodded at his image. If he was going to appear in public as Elliot's top, he was for damned sure going to make his friend proud.

"Fine, fine," he groused, opening the door and stepping from the bathroom. "I'm ready. You'd better just be glad that I'm not really your Master or you'd be hurting right about now." He grinned, then noticed the complete lack of words coming from his friend. "Elliot...? You okay?"

The blond nodded slowly, eyes locked on the sleek form of his friend. He'd seen Harris all dominating before, of course, but he'd never looked quite so... comfortable. Must be the clothes, he decided. They had to be new or he would have seen them before and why the HELL hadn't Harris gone shopping wherever he'd bought them before?

He forced himself to close his mouth with a snap of teeth on teeth. "Nice outfit," he finally said, raking his gaze over the toned shape again. "I guess you went shopping."

Harris laughed. "Yeah, well. Unlike YOU, I don't travel with a trunk-load of kink-wear. And I did promise to wear leather. Now, give me your leash and shut up. Or do you want to just stay in?"

Elliot shook his head, laughing at Harris's quirked eyebrow. "I'm almost tempted, but you know what I said last night is true. You need to loosen up. Blow off some steam. And besides... I really want to show you off." He grinned. "I'll be the envy of every guy there. Bottom AND top."

The brunette chuckled. "You still haven't told me where we're going," he said as he took the leash and led Elliot from the room.

"You'll see," the blond said smuggly. "Besides, there's someone there I want you to meet. He might make a good double for Spark, if you approve of him."

Harris frowned but stayed silent. Nobody would ever be a good double for Spark. Spark was Spike and Spike was dead and there'd never be anyone even remotely like him. But he could never explain that to Elliot.