Angel looked at Spike in disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“What?” The blue eyes were as full of innocence as they had been since he came back, but deep down, was that a spark of the old Spike? Angel almost hoped so.
“The clothes, Spike. Go change. If you’re working for me, you’re going to look –”
“Like a nancy boy?”
“Professional,” Angel said firmly. “And that’s not it. Your closet is full of suitable –”
“Was that a joke? Because you need to practice. Seriously.”
“We’re going to be late. It’s your first day. Why do I feel like a mother with a first grader?”
“Because you didn’t finish your breakfast?”
“Not funny, Spike.”
“Sheesh. I’m going...keep your hair flat.”
Angel watched Spike make his duster swirl around him as he stalked back to the bedroom and allowed a fond smile to curve his lips. Annoying was better than apathetic and it was actually quite endearing.
Spike came back out a few minutes later, dressed in a white shirt, buttoned half way down, with a deep blue tie slung around his neck. Naked under the shirt, that came low enough on his thighs to just barely cover his cock - unless he moved - he stalked over to Angel holding out two pairs of trousers.
“Grey? Or black? I’m thinking black. Classic, really.”
Angel swallowed. Why was Spike hard? Getting dressed didn’t have that effect on him in the past. Undressing, yes...
“The black is good,” he managed eventually.
Spike smiled and took two more steps forward, looking up at Angel. “Need a bit of help with the tie, love,” he said. “Not had much practice with them.”
Angel felt the room spin around him as his hands turned up the stiff collar of Spike’s shirt, as he slipped the vivid blue strip into place and folded the collar back to hold it still. He gripped the ends of the tie in his hands and tugged slightly until Spike’s mouth was just there, just close enough to kiss. It seemed a pity to waste the opportunity...
They came though the doors of Wolfram and Hart like a pair of fallen angels; leather clad, rumpled hair, bedroom eyes. The chorus of sycophantic greetings died away to a shocked silence that lasted until they were safely inside the elevator and then the babbling burst out again.
“Did you see that? He had his hand right inside his ...”
“Two guesses what they’re doing in that elevator.”
“The one with the security cameras?”
“You know this place used to have class.”
The elevator doors opened again. “We can hear you, “Angel said, his arm around Spike who was doing his best to get inside Angel’s T shirt while he was still wearing it. “And you can all go home.”
“We – we’re fired?”
“Nope. Just been persuaded – hey, that tickles! - to change casual Friday to a Monday. Go home, get changed. We run a tight ship here you know.”
“You heard him,” said Spike. “And look at his trousers. This man invented ‘tight’.”
“They zip up the sides.”
“Ah, so they do!”
Most people took the stairs that day. It was quicker.
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