Yellow

Title: Yellow
Fandom: Angel/Dark Harbour
Characters: David Weinberg and Spike
Type: Pre-slash crossover fic
Rating: PG13 – language and intent
Spoilers: This story might contain some spoilers for the movie ‘Dark Harbour’ and the last season of Angel
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Angel; the Series’.
I do not own ‘Dark Harbour’.
I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Achieve: Just ask me, I would be honoured of course… I just would love to know where my babies are taken.
Beta: The lovely Julie; thanks for all your help and for putting up with my fascination for crossover fics.
Author’s note: I know that it feels like more is supposed to come after this, maybe Spike’s POV or maybe you think David and Spike should really get together. Just let me know if you think I should nurture the plot bunny responsible for this little thing. *smiles* I do take bribes.

*****

I can't believe I ever left that island, not after what he… I … we did on it. True, he gave her the poisoned mushrooms but I made sure he knew about them. And why? For love? I thought so but I guess I was wrong. Oh, it was fun while it lasted but once the suspense of hiding and plotting was over he got bored and why wouldn't he? Compared to him I am an ugly old man. Don't get me wrong, I know I am not ugly and I know that I am not going to be sent to a home for little old gay men any day soon, but I am not a young Adonis either. So, to make a long story short, he left and now I am here.

Where is here you might ask? Here is Los Angeles. What am I doing in LA you wonder? Well, it is easy, getting away from the memories. I will go back to my island, I know I will, but for now I need more then ghosts of the past and memories of love lost.

I look around the bar, a bar full of yuppies. I noticed the big office buildings around, how could I not? One of the biggest is a law firm and it seemed like all of their employees are now in this bar. Being a businessman myself I don't stick out in this crowd, he however does in his long black leather coat and with his bleached blond hair.

He must be younger then me, somewhere in his late 30s I think. Even though he clearly doesn't fit in, the yuppies seem to know him. He is greeted with respect, or is it fear? I can't put my finger on it, but it gets my attention.

I follow him with my eyes; normally I would say he is not my type. He is handsome, with high cheekbones and almost an animalistic grace. I can see that he is muscular. How? Easy, under that leather coat he only wears a tight black T-shirt and jeans. I wonder how he is able to breathe in those jeans. He is pale, not something one would expect to see in LA.

I must have been staring more openly then I thought because I find myself being looked in the eye by him. His eyes are blue with what looks like yellow. I blink and the yellow is gone, I must have been mistaken, probably it was just a trick of the light. He walks, no stalks, like a predator over to my table. I notice the yuppies in his path move away to give him all the room he needs and more. I have this uneasy feeling of being the prey of a deadly beast.

"Like what you see?" He drawls in an unmistakably British accent. Not the kind the Queen has, more the type you hear on the street. It suits him.

"Why do you ask?" I try to sound surprised and give him my best 'I have no idea what you are talking about'-look.

Without being invited by me or a 'can I sit down?' he drapes himself in the chair next to me. "I could feel you looking from across the room." He leans closer to me, he smells of leather, smoke and alcohol and something that makes me shiver, it is wild and animalistic, dangerous and exciting. My body reacts but I am not going to let him know. He leans even closer, "I can smell the answer to my question." He practically purrs in my ear. Again the uneasy feeling of being the prey creeps over me.

He sits back and stretches his lean body, the muscles under that tight T-shirt ripple and I can't help it, I stare again.

"The name's Spike," he announces. I look up and see him looking at me with the cocky smirk of a guy that knows he is hot.

"David," I say - yes, I know I could have done better, but it isn't easy to think. I am sure that a deer about to be eaten by a black panther wouldn't be a master conversationalist either.

"Well… David…" He grins as he draws out my name. "Are you gonna answer me?"

"Answer you?" I still try to fake innocence.

"Like what you see?" He repeats his question.

"I thought you already knew that answer?" I counter. He laughs, he actually has a nice laugh and it makes him look younger, less dangerous.

"Just like to have my ego stroked." He grins and moves closer to me again, "Or is it something else you want to stroke?"

I blush at his words, nobody has ever been that forward with me. Am I that obvious? Or can he really smell what he is doing to me? I look into his eyes and he looks back and for that split second it seems like the world has stopped and he wouldn't have to be a psychic to know the answer to his question now. It feels like I can look into his soul, the kind soul of a poet.

"SPIKE!" The moment between us is over. The soft blue eyes are gone, the attitude is back and so is the yellow colouring. 'It wasn't a trick of light' I catch myself thinking.

"What?" He snaps at the newcomer. I look up, the man is the classic tall, dark and handsome. Spike rolls his eyes at the dark-haired newcomer, almost like a teen would do to a parent. Of course the other man can't be his father, they seem more or less the same age. 'Lovers?' I wonder feeling a little disappointed.

"Is he bothering you?" The dark-haired man asks. Spike mutters something that sounds like 'bloody mother hen' as he leans back into the chair again. The dark-haired man glares and again I get this odd father/son feeling. Spike just glares back with a sneer. It is a wordless battle and eventually Spike gives in and looks away. The other man looks back at me and for a moment I see the same yellow in his dark eyes as I had seen in Spike's blue ones.

"Was Spike bothering you?" He repeats his question.

"No." I reply truthfully, "We were talking." Okay that last part was an exaggeration but who cares?

"Now sod off, Angel." Spike growls, but he looks down when the man, who's name apparently is Angel, glares at him.

"Fred is looking for you." Angel states. 'Fred?' I think, a little sting of jealousy goes through my body as I see the blonde's face soften at the mention of this Fred. 'Maybe Fred is the boyfriend.' I think.

"She can wait." The blond says, the word 'she' makes me relax, don't ask me why.

"No, she can't." is all Angel says before he bids me a good evening with a warm smile. He turns and with a similar animal like grace as Spike he leaves.

"Duty calls." Spike says with a theatrical sigh. He rises from his chair and flexes his muscles. 'For my benefit.' I think, no… I know!

"I am here everyday." He says as he turns to leave. He doesn't give me a chance to reply, he just gives me enough time to thoroughly ogle him as he saunters out of the bar, leaving me behind hard and confused. I think I will visit this bar more often.