Sword and Stake Home     Gen/Ensemble Page     Shippy (M/F) Page     Slash (M/M) Page     Short Stories Page

 

 

Just Call Me Angel . . .                                                               Chapter   1   2   3   4   5   Home

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Chapter 6


Xander wasn't sure how long he stood rooted to the spot, his mind numb and his body frozen. What the fuck had just happened? Xander gave himself a physical shake; trying to throw off the effects of the lethargy that stole through his body. Xander thrust his hand in his pocket and reached for his keys. He felt Pawpaw's ring catch on the pocket's edge, the metal dug into the tender web between his fingers, and he jerked his hand out as if he'd been burned. He stared at the ring for a long moment and then slowly slid it off. He slipped the ring into his left pocket and then tried again for his keys. He turned and headed for the truck with the shambled gait of a very old man.

Well, this sure wasn't how I thought tonight'd turn out. Me an' my bright ideas!

The nachos lay like lead ballast in his stomach. They weighed him down. It was difficult to move. He unlocked the door and grabbed the seat back for support as he dragged himself into the truck with none of his usual grace or exuberance. He clutched the sides of the steering wheel with both hands, dropped his forehead on the top arc of the wheel and closed his eyes in exhaustion. He'd just rest here for a minute before making the drive home — alone. There'd be no Angel on his porch tonight, the cheery glow of his cigarette a welcoming beacon in the darkness.

What the fuck had happened? Who was that Billy Idol guy, and how did he know Angel?
 

Xander's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles white and bloodless, as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“I've dated a lot of women, had relationships with some more, spent a lotta time alone, but there's only been two people I've ever loved. One was a woman; one was a man.” “What were they like . . . the people you loved?” “Well, they were both small, blond and stubborn as mules . . .”

Xander slumped back against the seat, his nerveless fingers fell from the wheel, his hands landing palm-up in his lap. He tilted his head back, the top of the seat supporting his neck, as the weirdness of the night suddenly clicked into place and everything made sense.

He'd just met one of the only two people Angel had ever loved — and that one had just left with Angel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander reluctantly dragged himself into work on Monday. He hadn't bothered to pack a lunch; he knew he wouldn't be able to eat. He'd thought about calling off sick, but that would just be delaying the inevitable, and he had to know. Besides, he didn't think he could stand another day at home.

He hadn't slept well for the past three nights. Every time he closed his eyes, he was assailed by visions of soft, full, perfectly-formed lips wrapping around Angel's cock . . . cheeks hollowing further as he sucked . . . cobalt blue eyes darkening with passion . . . expressive hands gripping Angel's cock with the same intensity with which he'd gripped the microphone. Low voice growling out obscenities in that sexy London accent as he demanded 'more, more, more' . . . then rising to that panther-like scream as Angel fucked him in that hard, tight ass . . .

It was long after midnight on Monday morning when his exhausted body had finally shut out the torments of his mind's graphic visuals and restless sleep had claimed him. He'd awakened after far too short a respite, groggy and disoriented, his sweat-soaked sheets carrying the sour smell of desperation and loss. No, staying home was definitely not an option he wanted to consider. He'd make it through work somehow . . .

Xander squared his shoulders and climbed out of the truck. Might as well get it over with. It didn't make sense to cling to false hopes, although a kernel of optimism somewhere inside him was begging him to give Angel a chance to explain—to hear his side. Although it would damn near kill him to do so, he could begin to put this all behind him, once he knew for sure.

Maybe this was his karma for what he'd done to Anya? He'd literally left her at the altar . . . Gee-zus! He hoped to hell he hadn't made Anya feel nearly as bad as he felt right now. She sure hadn't done anything to deserve it. He closed his eyes as guilt washed over him; it mingled with the pain, and he swayed on his feet.

A strong arm slid around his waist and he leaned into its support as he was guided to the picnic table. Big hands supported his shoulders and gently pressed down, as his legs gave out and he abruptly sat. The smell of coffee tickled his nose and he opened his eyes to see a double pair of concerned blue-gray ones, along with two noses, six inches away. He jumped, and then yelped as the coffee spilled.  Its droplets splattered his thighs through the denim of his work jeans.

“Jesus H. Christ on a cross, Ry! Don't do that!”

“You look like shit.”

“No kidding? Maybe that's 'cause I feel like shit.”

“No need to ask how your weekend went. Looks like you got that stomach bug that's been goin' around. Why dintcha just call in sick, Xan? 'Cause, seriously, man, you look like death warmed over.”

Xander scrubbed at his face, and decided to let Ry continue to think he had the flu. “I just couldn't face another day at home . . . thought maybe a change of scene might help.”

Pete headed over and looked Xander up and down. “You look like shit.”

“That seems to be the general consensus.”

“Go home, Harris. Already got four guys out sick, don't need you infectin' th' rest of the crew. Today's pretty much a total loss, anyway. They sent the wrong tiles an' we can't get new ones till tomorrow. I'll put the tilers on plasterin' an' sandin' the drywall you an' Steve already got hung. From the looks a' things, you'd prob'ly be spendin' mosta the day in the can anyway, an' I ain't payin' ya t' crap—do it on your own time.”

Pete stomped off muttering, “Fuckin' stomach viruses . . . fuckin' wrong tiles . . . what the fuck is 'Delft' anyway? Fuckin' incompetent suppliers . . .” He turned and yelled, “Harris, get the fuck outta here. Finn, get your ass in gear an' get t' work!”

Riley glanced at Pete's retreating back, then looked back at Xander. “You gonna be okay, Xan?”

“I'll live.”

He leaned closer to whisper, “If Angel turns up, I'll tell 'im you went home sick.”

“You haven't seen Angel?”

“Naw. Figured he musta picked up the same bug you got.”

“Oh. Yeah, that must be it.”

“Steve 'n Marty 'n Bob got it, too. Hope ya feel better, Xan. I'd come over t' see how you're doin' tonight, but I can't take a chance on bringin' it home to Sam and the kids.”

“Yeah. I sure wouldn't want you an' Sam to ever get what I've got. Don't worry. I'll manage.”

Pete's voice blared across the site. “Why the fuck are you still here, Harris?”

“Just leavin', Pete. See ya, Ry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander couldn't face going home to wallow in his misery again. And why should he? Wallowing hadn't gotten him anywhere. Maybe he was looking at this whole situation bass ackwards? He was so focused on what Angel might or might not want, that he'd never given much thought as to what he wanted. And what did he want? He wanted Angel, dammit!

What he and Angel had was special. Why should he just roll over and let that Spike guy waltz back in here and take what was his? He wouldn't go down without a fight — well, at least a metaphorical one. If Angel didn't want him anymore, Angel could damn well tell him to his face! And if that made Angel uncomfortable, tough shit! If Angel did want him, then they had some stuff to work out, and the sooner they got down to it, the better. Pawpaw had always said it wasn't about who was right and who was wrong; it was about working together to find a solution to the problem.

Xander checked the rear view mirror and both side mirrors, then made a U-turn and headed toward Angel's place.

He turned off the road and bumped down the faint track that you had to know was there, or you'd miss it. He guided the truck around the meandering bed of the small stream, nearly dry now in the summer heat. But it still carried a trickle of water to nourish the stand of cottonwoods that shaded the old Airstream trailer parked beneath them. He didn't see Angel's bike outside, and the padlock was missing from the prefab shed in which he usually kept it locked up. Xander gave a quick look inside the shed, but the bike was gone. It didn't look like Angel was home, but he knocked anyway. Then he jumped up and down and peered in the windows as he circled the trailer, before he finally admitted defeat.

Okay. Angel wasn't at work, and he wasn't at home. What now?

If he couldn't ascertain Angel's whereabouts, maybe he could check on Spike's?

Xander got back in the truck and headed for Mustang Sally's.

~~~~~~~~~~

The door was propped open, dust mites suspended in the beam of light that slanted across the floor. A woman was sweeping the floor, and Xander almost didn't recognize her at first. Currently wearing old jeans and a T-shirt, a bandanna tied over her head, she looked very different from the glamorous, dolled-up cowgirl of Friday night. Then again, he supposed even Dolly Parton didn't look like Dolly Parton when she went to the grocery store.

Xander cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Sally?”

“We don't open till eleven.” She ran her eyes up and down his body. “But I can getcha a beer on the house, if ya want.”

“Uh . . . no, thanks. I just wondered if I could ask you a couple a' questions about the band you had Friday night? They were really good, and I wondered if they'd be playin' here again?”

There. That should be subtle enough. If the lead singer had left her in the lurch, she'd be bound to badmouth the band, and if he'd decided to stick around for awhile, she'd probably tell him that, too.

“Nope. Don't reckon so. They were here for just th' two nights, then they had a gig in Phoenix and then onto LA. Don't 'spect they'll be back this way again.” Sally sighed. “That Spike sure was purty, though. Had me worried for a minute there th' first night.” Sally nudged Xander in the ribs and leaned closer. “He was fifteen minutes late getting' back from the first break. Said he went out lookin' for some fags. Honey, I damn near keeled over in shock! I said, 'This is Texas, baby, we don't got no fags here. We got cowboys an' real men'.”

Sally threw back her head and brayed with laughter. “Turns out he was talkin' 'bout smokes! They call cigarettes 'fags' where he come from. Didja ever hear tell a' such a thing? Turns out, he went out for a breath a' air, an' then decided to walk t' th' Mini-Mart fer his 'fags'. I told 'im he shoulda just asked. We got Marlboros an' Camels an' Newports right here.” Sally shook her head back and forth. “That Spike, he sure is a pistol!”

Xander tried to keep the jubilation out of his voice. “So, they've moved on, now?”

“Dontcha worry none. We got plenty other good entertainment at Sally's.”

“Okay. I guess I'll have to come back and check it out.”

Sally patted his arm. “You be sure an' do that, darlin'. Y'sure y'won't have a beer? It's on the house. 'Cause I'd fer damn sure rather be talkin' to a fine young thang like you than cleanin' up this ol' bar!”

“Thanks, but I gotta be goin'. I just stopped in to tell you we enjoyed the band.”

“Well, thanks fer stoppin' by, sugar. You c'mon back soon, y'hear?”

Xander gave her a weak smile and made his escape.

Once back in the truck, he assessed the situation. Spike couldn't have gone far with Angel if he'd only been fifteen minutes late. He'd done the show the next night and then left town. So where was Angel? Sally was the only lead he had, and she hadn't told him much.

Wait! The color drained from Xander's face and he gripped the steering wheel tightly. If Angel wasn't back together with Spike, then he didn't have a reason to avoid Xander. Ry hadn't said Angel called off sick, he said Angel didn't show up. Xander's original fears returned in full force.

Xander threw the truck into reverse, made a tight turn, slammed it into gear and peeled out of the parking lot. He hightailed it home, pulled into his driveway and jumped out of the truck. His hands were shaking so badly, it took him three tries to get the key in the lock.

Xander grabbed the unopened papers from the counter top and sank into the kitchen chair. He rapidly skimmed the Saturday paper but didn't really expect to find anything. The Sunnydale Herald started the press run at eleven, so if any news happened after that, it wouldn't be in the paper until Sunday. He slid the rubber band from the Sunday edition and ran his eyes down the front page, fear churning in his stomach.

There it was, in the lower left corner. Man Injured in Motorcycle Accident. Injured. But not killed. It didn't say 'killed'. And it didn't say 'severely' or 'seriously'. It just said 'injured'.

Breathe. It'll be all right. Injured was bad, but it wasn't as bad as 'severely injured'. Just read the fucking paper! Motorcycle accident. Concussion. Avoided serious injury by wearing helmet, doctors say. Thank god! Blah blah helmet laws proselytizing blah blah. Dislocated shoulder. Broken arm. Admitted for 72-hour observation because of the concussion. Seventy-two hours—he'd still be in the hospital!

Xander ripped out the article and grabbed his car keys.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander walked into Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, and headed directly for the Information desk. Seated behind the desk was an elderly woman in a pink smock. Probably a volunteer. Good. She'd be easier to get past than a nurse. Xander put on his friendliest smile.

“May I help you, young man?”

Xander glanced at her name tag.

“Good morning, Betty. Yes, you may. Could you tell me what room Liam Gallagher is in, please?”

“Are you family? Visiting hours are only from two till four, unless you're family.”

“Yes, ma'am, I am. I'm his brother . . . Noel. I just heard and drove all night to get here.”

“Let's see . . . Gallagher, Room 217.”

“Thanks, Betty.”

Xander took the stairs; he couldn't take the time to wait for the elevator. He peered around the stairwell, and looked for signs to tell him which direction to take. He didn't want to linger in the halls in case someone would discover that he was a fraud and throw him out.

There. Rooms 200-220 to the right. Xander made the turn and hurried down the corridor. He slipped into Angel's room and stood absolutely still, as he assessed the damage.

Angel's healthy tan had faded a bit, and his skin looked sort of sallow. Dark bruises showed under both eyes. He wore a weird-looking sort of backwards bra thing that probably immobilized his shoulder, and his left forearm was in a cast. He looked damn good!

Angel seemed to sense Xander's presence and opened his eyes.

Xander took a step further into the room. “Hey.”

Angel smiled briefly. “Hey.”

Xander walked over to the bed and perched on the uncomfortable chair next to it, never taking his eyes from Angel.

“So, Liam Gallagher, huh?”

Angel nodded.

“Looks like your weekend was about as bad as mine, but at least you knew what was goin' on, Liam.”

“Just call me Angel.”

“Angel. Why didn't you call? Let me know what happened?”

“I don't know. It was stupid. I spent most of Sunday driftin' in an' out of consciousness, an' this morning when you hadn't called, I figured you were pissed off at me for the way I treated you Friday night an' didn't want to see me.”

“Yeah. What was up with Friday night, Angel?”

“Pretty much just me bein' an ass. I saw someone I never expected to see an' I handled it all wrong.”

Xander nodded. “Spike. The guy you used to be in love with. Yeah, already figured that out.”

Angel looked at Xander in shock. “How . . .”

Xander grinned. “Just 'cause I'm pretty, doesn't mean I'm stupid. And, hey, I'm not blond.”

Angel snorted. “It was that obvious?”

“Well, I just sorta put two and two together. You told me that you used to love a small, stubborn, blond guy. A small, stubborn blond guy shows up an' you act all weird an' then take off with him . . . four.”

Angel looked annoyed. “I didn't take off with him. I took off; Spike sort of came along uninvited. I took him to the Mini-Mart down the road, we yelled some, hit each other a few times, got a little nasty an' hit each other some more. I got to rememberin' why we broke up in the first place, told 'im it was over an' that I was in love with somebody else. He kissed me t' prove it wasn't over and you know, Xander, that's the best thing he could'a done. Because all the time I was kissing Spike, I was wishin' it was you. He felt it, too. Got even more pissed off, an' I got on the bike an' left. Guess he walked back to Sally's. I went straight home an' slept it off, 'cause you were right—I did have too much to drink.”

“But . . . the accident?”

“Oh, that. That happened Saturday afternoon. I was comin' over to see you to apologize. All I could think about was holding you in my arms and tryin' to make up for bein' such an asshat an' I wasn't payin' attention an' I hit an armadillo.”

“You what?”

“It was crossing the road. I didn't notice it till I hit it, the bike flipped and here I am.”

Xander giggled hysterically.

“An armadillo! That is such a . . . cliché”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Thanks to you, I was wearing my helmet, so the damage wasn't too bad.”

A nurse popped her head into the room. “The doctor's on his way to see you, Mr. Gallagher. If everything checks out, your brother can take you home. Won't that be nice?”

Without waiting for an answer, the head disappeared and she was gone.

“My brother?”

“I had to tell them I was family or they wouldn't let me in to see you, so I told them I was your brother, Noel.”

“Noel?” Angel snickered.

“Well, it was the first name that popped into my head, and the lady didn't look like she was much of an Oasis fan. So how'd you get the name 'Angel'?”

Angel sobered instantly and a deep sadness filed his eyes. “I'll tell you sometime.”

The nurse was back with the doctor, and after checking Angel's eyes and other vital signs, the doctor pronounced him fit to leave.

“You get dressed an' I'll bring the truck around front,” Xander said.

Angel nodded. Their eyes met, and Xander grinned from ear to ear as he left the hospital and headed for his truck.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So . . . you wanna stay at my place for a few days?”

“Are you offerin' because you want me there, or because you feel sorry for me?”

Xander turned and stared at Angel. “How can you even ask me that?”

Angel ducked his head. “It's just that I've always been on my own—an' I don't want you to feel you have to take care of me or anything. It was my stupidity that got me into this in the first place.”

“Okay. If it'd been me that had the accident and couldn't drive for a week, and if I lived alone way out of town, what would you do?”

“Point taken. Okay. Thanks. Just for a few days.”

“Or . . . it could be longer.”

Angel laughed. “You've never had me for a roommate, so if I were you, I'd hold off on that offer for your own sake.”

“We'll work out the details later. For now . . . let's go home.”

“Shouldn't you be at work?”

“Naw. They think I have the flu. I could prob'ly take tomorrow off, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander carefully pulled into his driveway without his usual gravel-spraying flair. He didn't want to do anything to jostle Angel's head or shoulder. Xander slid out of the truck, went around to the passenger side and opened the door.

Angel sat in the truck, with an indecisive look on his face. “I don't want to put you to any trouble, Xander.”

Xander swept off his hat, made a bow worthy of Zorro, put his hat back on his head and extended his hand. “Mi casa es su casa.”

Angel grinned and took Xander's hand, using it for support as he jumped down from the truck. “You know I don't deserve you.”

Xander stared at him incredulously. “You don't deserve me?”

Angel shook his head. “You just don't see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“See what I see in you.”

“Uh . . . that's just too many 'sees'. It's making me seasick.”

Xander unlocked the door and tossed his hat on the counter. He and Angel looked at each other.

“I guess we should . . . talk,” Angel said. “I know you've got questions, an' I'll try an' answer 'em as best as I can.”

Xander tilted his head and observed Angel. With his shining dark eyes, he resembled an inquisitive bird. “So, you're sayin' I can ask you anything I want?”

Angel nodded.

“Actually, I only have one question for now. You said when you were kissing Spike you told him you were 'in love with somebody else'. Did you mean it?”

Angel met Xander's eyes with a start of surprise. It was obvious that he didn't remember letting that particular bit of information slip out.

“I meant it.”

A slow smile began to form on Xander's face. It widened into a happy grin. “Questions later. Kissing now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He took Angel's hand, laced their fingers together, and led him into the bedroom. Xander closed the blinds and the bright sunlight diffused into a soft glow. Angel was half-wearing his leather jacket; the right side fit perfectly, the left was draped over his immobilizer. Xander slid the coat off and tossed it on the chair.

“Sit,” Xander ordered, and Angel sat on the side of the bed. Xander knelt before him and pulled off his boots. Xander got to his feet and crooked his finger. Angel stood obediently.

Xander gently undid the button of Angel's jeans, unzipped them and carefully eased them over Angel's hips. They pooled on the floor and Angel stepped out of them. Xander frowned in concentration and his eyes slowly tracked down Angel's body, as he noted the dark bruise on the immobilized shoulder, additional bruising along the left side of his ribs and the long brush burn that covered his left thigh from hip to knee. Xander felt relief wash through him. It didn't look too bad at all.

“Well? Do I pass inspection?”

Xander met Angel's eyes and grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

“Then why is it that I'm the only one naked in this room?”

“That can be remedied.”

Xander pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the chair. He toed his boots off and kicked them out of the way. He undid his belt buckle and slowly pulled the belt through the loops, as his eyes remained locked on Angel's. He unbuttoned his jeans, and then felt Angel's fingers on the zipper; he slid it down, eased the jeans over Xander's hips, and the boxers followed. Angel's hand closed around Xander's cock. Xander kicked his feet free of the clothing and laughed as Angel moved backwards toward the bed leading him along by his cock. Angel shoved the pillows up against the headboard and slid onto the bed. He leaned back to recline against the pillows. His uninjured arm encircled Xander, and pulled him close.

Xander rested his head on Angel's broad chest. He gently stroked Angel's bruised ribs and then ran his hand over Angel's taut abs. He watched the golden hairs stand straight up as Angel's muscles tightened.

“Y'know,” Xander said, “If you're still in pain from the accident, we could just . . . cuddle, if you want.”

Angel stared at him incredulously, then paraphrased Xander's earlier remark. “Cuddling later. Fucking now.”

Angel lowered his head and claimed Xander's lips. For a moment, Xander remained still, as he enjoyed the firm pressure of Angel's mouth on his. He felt the heat between them build, and then he kissed Angel back. He thrust his tongue between Angel's lips and leisurely explored his mouth, as he reveled in the familiar taste of Angel.

Angel winced as his shoulder restricted his movements. “D'you think you could help me get this damn thing off?”

Xander considered. “The doctor said you're supposed to keep it on for a week.”

“C'mon, Xander. The cast is bad enough. I can't move with this thing on!”

A devilish gleam sparkled in Xander's dark eyes. “That could have . . . possibilities.”

“What?”

“The not moving. With you not bein' able to move, it means you're totally at my mercy. Mwahaha!”

Angel laughed. “Okay. I give. I'm totally at your mercy. What are you plannin' to do with me, now that you've got me there?”

“This.” Xander ran his tongue over the curve of Angel's ear, nibbled at the earlobe, and then kissed down the side of his neck. “And this.” He pressed a series of kisses across Angel's collarbone. “This . . .” Xander ran his hand over Angel's chest, then lightly raked his nails across Angel's firm pectoral muscles. His thumb stroked Angel's left nipple, as his mouth enclosed the right.

“An' then, I'm prob'ly gonna do this . . .” Xander smoothed his hand over the ridges of Angel's abs. A shiver ran down Angel's spine as Xander's words sent a breath of air over the moisture Xander's mouth had left on his hard nipple.

“How about this?” Xander's fingers tangled in Angel's dark curls, traced the line of Angel's pelvic bone, and then finger-walked down Angel's thigh.

“Hey!” Angel protested.

“Is there a problem here?” Xander teased as he stroked the underside of Angel's knee. “You don't like this?” His fingers marched back up Angel's thigh. “Maybe you were expecting 'this' instead?” His fingers curled around the base of Angel's erect cock and tightened. Xander drew his hand up the length of Angel's cock as his nails lightly scored the underside. “Do you like that better? Well, how about this?” Xander's mouth closed over Angel's cock as his hand lowered to cup Angel's balls.

Angel sucked in his breath with a hiss as Xander's soft, warm mouth moved up and down on his cock—slowly at first, and then more rapidly.

The fingers of Angel's broken arm clutched at the twisted top sheet as he raked his other hand through Xander's hair, then cupped the back of Xander's neck.

“Xander?” Angel's voice was hoarse. “Remember when you asked if you could fuck my brains out? Well, this might be a good time, since I sure haven't been using them much lately.”

Xander's mouth stilled and he raised his head as his eyes locked on Angel's. “Do you really want to? You're not just sayin' it 'cause you're feelin' all guilty 'cause you fucked up our romantic anniversary date?”

“Yes, I'm feeling guilty. I treated you like shit an' I know it. I should have talked to you about what was botherin' me, instead of just closin' off. But, no—that's not why. The one thing this weekend taught me is that the past is just that. Past. You're my future. I do love you, Xander, an' if I could move, I'd be fuckin' your brains out right now. But since I can't do much but lie here at the moment, you're gonna have to do the honors . . . this time.”

Xander's eyes shone like smoky quartz and he grinned from ear to ear.

“Hot damn! I've got a date with an Angel!”

The End . . .  For Now

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sword and Stake Home     Gen/Ensemble Page     Shippy (M/F) Page     Slash (M/M) Page     Short Stories Page