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Shiny, Blue Suit

 

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine….

 

 

“Oh please, sugarplum, just try it on – look at it, don’t you think it’ll bring out the colour of your eyes.”

 

Slouching in the chair, his feet up on the desk, Spike raised an eyebrow as he eyed the frilly, blue shirt with its matching suit. “Who do I look like mate – Liberace? There is no bleedin’ way I’m going to wear that. Now piss off, I’m busy.”

 

Pursing his lips, Lorne sniffed as he perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Listen, honey, if you want to spend your time scuffing Angel’s desk with those oversized boot of yours, that’s fine by me. But Wolfram and Hart have an image to maintain…and black is so passé, just try on the suit.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Pullease?”

 

Not for love or money, mate.”

 

A slow, knowing smile spread across Lorne’s face. “Hmmm, interesting….”

 

Eyes widened with wariness, Spikes feet returned to the floor as he sat bolt upright in the chair. “What?”

 

“Oh…nothing,” Lorne drawled. “Its just, well, that isn’t strictly true, is it?”

 

What’s that supposed to mean.”

 

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard, on the grapevine, that you’d just do about anything for love, oh soulful one,” Lorne informed him, smugly.

 

“Yeah? What’s that got to with anything?” Spike blustered. “If you’re under some illusion I’m hiding warm, fuzzy feelings for you, Vegas, think again.”

 

“Relax, blondie bear, you’re not my type,” Lorne assured him as he pulled out his address book. “But I’ve been reliably informed that a certain blonde slayer, last seen in Europe, is the one that gets your heart a pumping – figuratively speaking, of course,” he added as he thumbed through the Bs in his book.  “Ah…here we are…Buffy…204 69 …“

 

“Fuck! How the hell did you get that? Keep going, you plonker!”

 

Wordlessly, Lorne stroked the lapels of the bright blue suit.

 

Oh no.

 

Lorne picked a piece of lint from the ultramarine sleeve.

 

No way in hell!”

 

Taking out a handkerchief, Lorne busied himself buffing the shiny, silver buttons that ran down the front of the suit jacket.

 

 

“Oh bloody hell…hand it over.”

 

FINIS