Fourth chapter to my sequel to How to Ride and Leather and Gasoline! Since I missed doing a post yesterday, certain people (not mentioning any names, my lil Peach...) have suggested that I should post twice today...And, of course, I caved under the pressure... ;-)
If you haven't read the first two fics (and you don't need to in order to understand this - they're mostly just smut *G*), all you need to know is that Spike works for a studio choosing set locations and lives in NY, Lindsey is a redneck country singer who lives down south, they're in an established relationship thanks to a chance dirty fuck behind a bar...and Spike has a jealous ex....
Title: Playing Dirty (Chapter 4/5)
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sobs* So very not mine. I just abuse 'em.
Warnings: M/m relations (lots of...smutty smut smut, I tell you!), language, angst, fuckwittery...
Previous chapters here.
Just to remind you where we're at...Spike and Lindsey are at the Premiere and have just had a big argument. Angel is, of course, still being a dick ;-)
If you haven't read the first two fics (and you don't need to in order to understand this - they're mostly just smut *G*), all you need to know is that Spike works for a studio choosing set locations and lives in NY, Lindsey is a redneck country singer who lives down south, they're in an established relationship thanks to a chance dirty fuck behind a bar...and Spike has a jealous ex....
Title: Playing Dirty (Chapter 4/5)
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sobs* So very not mine. I just abuse 'em.
Warnings: M/m relations (lots of...smutty smut smut, I tell you!), language, angst, fuckwittery...
Previous chapters here.
Just to remind you where we're at...Spike and Lindsey are at the Premiere and have just had a big argument. Angel is, of course, still being a dick ;-)
Banner by the amazing ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
blondebitz:
END CHAPTER FOUR.
Read Chapter 5.
blondebitz: Chapter 4
“Will?”
Spike looked up from his position seated on the stairs. There were people milling past on their way between the main room and the bathrooms and coat check, but it was the most privacy he’d been able to obtain.
He took another sip from his drink; he’d managed to convince the bartender that he needed a quadruple this time. “Not really in the mood for another chat, Angel.”
“Are you okay?” he asked with concern, sitting down next to him, even though the blond had been less than welcoming.
He’d been very happy to observe their argument from his strategic position near a pillar in an elevated section of the hall. Not that his stealth had been strictly necessary; they’d been so absorbed in one another that he could have sat on the floor next to them with a bucket of popcorn and they wouldn’t have been any the wiser.
“No,” he replied bluntly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Angel looked at Spike in profile, sucking in a subtle breath when the other man tilted his head to turn eyes bright with pain and saline on him. At first, he’d only wanted to split them up from jealousy and a burning need for revenge – no-one dumped him and got away with it. But now he really wanted Spike back; he was so beautiful and, for all his bluster, when he loved someone he ended up completely in their power.
“He doesn’t love me,” he said quietly and desperately, with all the exaggerated earnestness and complete inaccuracy of alcohol-clouded judgement.
Angel happened to disagree with Spike; he was damned sure that Lindsey loved him very much. “I’m sorry,” he replied gently and sympathetically, sliding an arm around his shoulders.
Spike stiffened, but then leaned into Angel’s body, taking comfort from his solid strength. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and he didn’t want to let them spill, but he’d never felt so lost or hopeless in his entire life. “I don’t know how t-to…fix it,” he said, voice breaking and breath hitching.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” soothed Angel, rubbing his hand up and down Spike’s arm and nestling him closer to his broad chest.
It wasn’t okay. Spike felt like each next breath would be too painful to draw and he’d just expire right there on the stairs. He knew in a vague way that he was drunk and that he was being overly melodramatic, but it didn’t stop how he was feeling. He was also fairly sure that he’d fucked up very badly and that he was going to regret it, but right now he couldn’t see what he’d said that had been unreasonable or unjustified. He turned his head and buried his face in Angel’s shoulder, not caring that he was probably ruining a six thousand dollar suit.
Angel didn’t care either, especially since Lindsey chose that particular moment to come looking for Spike.
He stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed with shock and betrayal.
For long moments, he stared at the little tableau, while Angel looked at him over the top of Spike’s head, one corner of his mouth lifted in smug amusement. His expression couldn’t have said “I told you so” more clearly if he’d tried.
Angel watched a fat tear roll its way from faded-denim blue down over the stubbled planes of Lindsey’s stricken face and a tremor of near-arousal ran through him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so fucking stunning and it was almost unbearably satisfying. Angel nearly hoped that Spike didn’t turn to see him at that point, because how could he not fall in love all over again?
“Didn’t waste any time, huh?” asked Lindsey, breaking the moment, and it wasn’t quite clear who he was talking to.
Spike opened his eyes and whirled his head around. He pulled away from Angel, swiping the tears from his face, but he also glared angrily at Lindsey. “You’d better not be accusing me of anything. People in glass houses and all that…”
“It’s okay, Spike: I get it. You’ve had your fun – what was it he called it? Slumming – but now you’re ready to trade me back in. Well, fine. You know what? I’m outta here. You wanna be miserable with him for the rest of your life, then be my guest.”
Angel could tell that Lindsey had been playing catch-up on drinking in a big way and now he was probably in nearly as much of a state of Spike. They were both a weird kind of drunk; physically it barely seemed to be touching them, but it had thrown their emotions way out of whack.
Spike jumped to his feet and strode down the three steps that would bring him close to Lindsey, gripping his wrist hard. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Why are you doing this to me, Lindsey?” The abrupt alteration from anger to pleading threw them both off balance and the brunet wrenched away from Spike, confused.
“Me?! You go running back to him and accuse me of destroying us? I can’t fuckin’ handle it, Spike!”
The blond pushed him, riled up with rage and frustration. “Fine! Go then! Go back home to your fucking one-horse town and shagging redneck arseholes behind bars and doing the same bloody thing every week of your life! Don’t come back.”
Spike practically ran past him, heading for the bathrooms, leaving him stunned and hollow.
Lindsey knew that he could either crumple to the floor and scream like he wanted to, or he could leave right now and be on his way home to break down and grieve in private. Somehow he managed to choose the latter, hoping that if he left now then he’d be able to clear out of the apartment before Spike came home. If he came home, he reminded himself, heading for the exit and trying not to remember that Angel had been there for the entire scene.
It was quite challenging, especially since he heard the asshole calling his name when he was outside, heading towards the valets to ask them to get him a cab.
He didn’t stop until he felt the hand on his shoulder and he whipped around, barely restraining himself from hitting the bastard. “Come to gloat?”
Well…yes, actually. “Just wanted to make sure you caught that last part about not coming back.”
Despair washed over Lindsey in a debilitating, cold wave, but he still managed to glare at Angel. “Yeah, I got it. But don’t worry, asshole; I ain’t your problem. You’ll fuck it up yourself – there’s no way in hell that Spike will stay with you.”
Angel shrugged, the gesture very clearly implying that he didn’t care all that much, as long as Spike wasn’t with Lindsey and he got to fuck him a few more times into the bargain.
Lindsey looked away, trying to deal with the tumultuous mix of emotions storming through him. He noticed that the valets had mistakenly assumed that Angel wanted to leave and had brought his Viper round. He drew in a shaky breath, imagining what would happen if Spike was vulnerable enough to fall for Angel’s bullshit again.
“You know, that’s the worst thing…You don’t even care about him! You don’t want to make him happy; you just want somethin’ pretty to play with.”
Angel was frankly astounded that Lindsey’s first priority was still Spike’s happiness, despite everything that had just happened. The reminder that they really did love each other was completely infuriating, not least because Angel knew that Lindsey was right and that he probably wouldn’t be able to hold onto the blond.
“That’s right,” he hissed nastily. “As long as he shuts the fuck up and puts out, that works for me. And just you remember that whenever you think about him, hillbilly.”
Lindsey wanted to beat the living shit out of him, and he was perfectly capable of doing it too. But all it could possibly do was make a bad situation even worse, and maybe win Angel a few sympathy and ‘I told you so’ points with Spike, so he decided to take the high road and walk away.
“Yeah, just you run back home to Mommy. You can’t take on the big boys and win, Lindsey.”
He looked back without stopping, snorting incredulously. “You think you’re a ‘real man’? Never done a real day’s work in your fuckin’ life and seriously…how hard is it to live offa Daddy?
Angel ignored the jibe, too caught up in his enjoyment of taunting Lindsey’s retreating back. “You know, I’m almost surprised that you’re cutting and running so easily, though I hear that’s kinda a theme of yours…Works out well for me though. Spike has a tendency to be…melodramatic. Your abandonment’s gonna push his insecurities into the red zone; should make it easier for me to keep him in line.”
Lindsey stopped in his tracks. Okay, change of plan on the high road.
Angel clearly wasn’t used to people standing up to him because he didn’t actually realise that he was going to get punched until Lindsey’s fist connected with his face. He went down hard, with a surprised and pained shout, and Lindsey really hoped he was ruining his ridiculously expensive suit on the concrete. Lindsey shook out his fist, more than satisfied to see that the fucker was bleeding; Spike might not want him anymore, but that didn’t mean he was going to put up with Angel talking that way about the man he loved.
As the valets rushed to call the cops, leaving their station, Lindsey spotted another opportunity for well-justified retaliation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“And then I picked up a trashcan and threw it through the windshield of his car…”
“What?!”
“Yeah…Nice, cherry-red Viper too. Intended to kick the crap out of him as well, but I had to make a quick getaway before he could have my ass thrown in jail.”
Bobby, the bassist from his band and probably his best friend, shook his head. “Wow…That’s some kind of an exit.”
“Well, if something’s worth doin’…”
They were joking around, but Bobby – and anyone else with even an ounce of awareness – could see that Lindsey was absolutely destroyed. He’d already been back a week and it was the first time he’d been to talk about what had happened with anyone except his momma – and he hadn’t actually wanted to talk to her.
Lindsey could barely remember the drive home, which he’d started drunk and finished on the verge of collapse, only having stopped once during the entire journey for anything other than refuelling and using the bathroom. He’d felt like he was going to die. Still did.
None of his friends really knew what to say or do; it was hard for them to comfort a guy who’d had his heart broken, and the fact that it had been broken by a man didn’t make it any easier. So, they took him out for a drink and bullshitted and carried on as normal, because what else was there to do? But Bobby was glad that Lindsey had finally told him what happened, although he was fairly sure that he’d had a very watered down version.
“So…what now?”
Lindsey sighed, knocking back more beer. “Guess I try to figure out how to get over it.”
“Not so easy, huh?”
Lindsey smiled sadly, eyes far away. “I thought he was the rest of my life, man.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lindsey’s version of “getting over it” wasn’t ideal.
He threw himself into work and drinking, although he soon discovered that staying in usually ended in tears and going out ended in a bar fight. Music was the only thing that gave him any kind of peace or perspective, so his friends scheduled more practices in an attempt to give him something to focus on.
One night, about a month after he got back, they were out at a bar a couple of towns over from theirs and Lindsey was trying really hard to be drunk.
Some guy came onto him and his standard negative formed instantly on his lips. But then he reconsidered; wasn’t it time he started doing this again? What was the point of refusing everyone because they weren’t Spike? It wasn’t as if the blond wanted him – he hadn’t even tried to be in touch.
He nodded hesitantly, quickly finishing off his beer and whisky chaser. As he was about to follow the guy outside, Bobby stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. “Lindsey…”
“What?” he snapped defensively. He was pretty sure that the word came out slurred so maybe he’d been more successful in getting drunk than he’d given himself credit for.
“I know it’s none of my business and you know I’ve never tried to tell you how to deal with all this shit but…This really what you wanna be doing?”
“What? Fucking? Yeah, it really is,” he replied aggressively.
Bobby winced a little at the blunt reference but then looked Lindsey in the eye, making sure that he had his full attention. “You’re not ready for this. You’ll regret it.”
“You’re right…this is none of your business. Back the fuck off.”
Bobby sighed. He didn’t think he’d ever truly been in love but he’d caught himself wondering this past month how his brother Rick would cope if he lost his wife Cindy, and the concept had been a little scary. Lindsey probably wouldn’t thank him for interfering, but he was just loath to let him do something that could only add to his pain and confusion right now. “I understand that you need to move on, and you should. But not like this. You’re too fuckin’ drunk to even enjoy it and doing something meaningless will just make you miss Spike more.”
Lindsey’s eyes were hard and sparking with outrage and for a moment Bobby feared that he might get smacked in the mouth for his trouble. Then abruptly the tension left him and he visibly slumped, looking down at his boots. He knew that Bobby was right and he realised with self-contempt that he’d been intending to let the guy fuck him because he wasn’t even sure he could get aroused enough to do it the other way around. Apparently his judgement wasn’t what it once had been…Time to hit the fence. “Can you drive me home?”
“Sure.” Lindsey had driven there but Bobby had seen his intention to drink anyway, and therefore stuck to Cokes himself.
It made him so sad to see his friend this way. All of them had liked Spike, partly because Lindsey had never been so happy before. Now he barely seemed to be keeping his head above the water, and Bobby couldn’t help but wonder whether there was some way to fix the damage. He didn’t know Spike well enough to be sure, but he thought that the blond was probably as torn up as Lindsey. “Have you ever thought of just calling him?”
Lindsey looked at him sharply, giving a surprised laugh that was devoid of humour entirely. “Only all day, every day. But what am I gonna say? He told me to leave and not come back…and he’s with Angel now.”
“You know that for sure?” he asked, directing Lindsey towards the exit and signalling to their other friends that he’d call them later.
“No,” he admitted. “But I don’t deserve for him to forgive me anyway. I cheated on him and I kept asking him to give up stuff that he shouldn’t have to, and I didn’t offer him anything when he offered me everything. And I accused him of running around on me with Angel, which he obviously wasn’t…Fuck, I’m such an asshole that I can’t even believe he stayed with me as long as he did.”
Bobby smiled sadly at him. He knew that half of it was a crock of shit and the other half dramatically exaggerated and he also thought that Spike’s version would be wildly different, but none of them had been able to convince Lindsey to stop beating himself up about it.
Bobby caught Lindsey as he stumbled slightly and then led him over to the truck, fishing the keys out of his pocket and opening the passenger door for him. “Come on, ‘asshole’,” he ordered. “Time to get you home.”
As they were pulling out of the parking lot, Lindsey leaned his head against the cool window, eyes drifting irresistibly closed. “She don’t start half the time anymore…Think she’s mad with me too,” he mumbled, halfway asleep already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike had finally agreed to let Angel take him out to dinner.
He’s asked Angel’s dad – his real boss – to send him on as many away jobs as possible during the last six weeks, not wanting to be in the empty familiarity of his apartment and trying to find distraction any way that he could. Angel had been less than pleased about it, but unfortunately for him his father liked Spike and was quite well aware of what a prick his son could be.
Spike had made it very clear to Angel on the night of the Premiere that he wanted nothing to do with him in relationship terms. He had categorically told him that nothing was ever going to come close to what he’d had with Lindsey, least of all the abusive, fucked up mess that he and Angel would be if they got back together.
Angel had superficially accepted it, backing off to a certain extent (although it drove him crazy to do so) and hiding the fact that the mere mention of Lindsey made him want to drive his fist into the nearest wall. But he hadn’t stopped inviting the blond out.
Spike spent most of his time feeling like someone had emptied out his entire chest cavity. His heart alternated between hollow and shredded, and his lungs abruptly forgot to breathe every time a particular scent or memory broadsided him and made him think of Lindsey. All he did was miss the other man; he couldn’t even use his hurt and anger about nearly being cheated on as protection because he could understand why it had happened; being apart was so hard. And it was obvious that Lindsey had regretted it completely. Spike had to admit to himself that he’d forgiven the brunet for it a long time ago.
The day that he’d been sent their photograph from the Premiere, he’d finally broken down for real, crying so hard that he’d collapsed right there in his kitchen, sobbing himself into an exhausted sleep on the linoleum. Things had been slightly better after that, but not much. Finally, however, he’d realised that his enforced exile was completely unhealthy and he’d agreed both to stick around in New York for a couple of weeks…and to go out for a meal with Angel.
He’d warned him that it wasn’t a date, and the brunet had seemed perfectly comfortable with that, so he’d shelved his doubts and ignored the fact that it felt like a betrayal when it had no right to.
Angel had done everything right and had pulled out all the considerable charm that he was capable of laying on in the right circumstances. He was gentle and ironically humorous and kinda shyly sweet and non-pushy, even though he still had the commanding presence that ensured their every whim was catered to.
Spike remembered why he’d fallen for him the first time around, and it was almost enough to stop him thinking about Lindsey. Almost.
He wasn’t sure whether he was surprised or not when he found himself on Angel’s couch, being kissed passionately. He was hard and Angel was definitely aroused; he could feel it digging into his hip as the bigger man subtly pushed him down until he was lying across the cushions. He hadn’t had sex at all since the split, and he’d jerked off as little as his body would let him get away with because he always thought about Lindsey and it left him miserable. And, after two years together, Angel was very familiar with his body.
So he was ‘willing’, technically at least, but he felt...cold. There were anxious little knots in his stomach and he felt vaguely as though he might cry. He didn’t know whether it was just too soon in general or whether it was being with Angel that made him feel so wrong and almost disgusted with himself.
“Angel,” he said when he got the chance to draw breath, pushing lightly at his shoulders.
“Mmmm?” replied the brunet, kissing over his jaw and lapping at his pulse point. Spike felt a confusing shudder of half-lust, half-revulsion pass through him and when a large hand found his crotch it intensified.
“Angel!” he repeated more forcefully, trying to wriggle away from the touch but prevented by the weight of Angel’s solid form.
“What?” he asked, not letting up on the assault. He’d waited a long time to get his hands on Spike again and he just wanted to be buried inside him.
“Wait…I’m sorry, but can we stop? I’m not ready.”
“You feel ready,” murmured Angel, gripping his cock through his pants and jacking with long, slow strokes.
“Fuck…Angel, stop. Please?” he begged desperately, turning his face to the side and biting his lip on a cry when a tongue dragged up over his jaw.
Angel didn’t know what Spike’s problem was, since he was so obviously aroused. He could only assume that thoughts of that fucking cowboy prick were still clouding his judgement, which was infuriating; he just wanted to fuck all of that right out of Spike’s head. He increased the force of his movements slightly, tilting his head so that he could crush his mouth to the blond’s again and tugging at his zipper.
Spike made a noise of anger, frustration and mild alarm. Old memories flittered through his head (“I’m your boyfriend, Will; if you love me then you should just give it up whenever I want…”) and he shoved at Angel’s chest, struggling wildly. “No! No, stop!”
The brunet abruptly sat up, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay! Fine, I’ll stop,” he growled, brows knitted together and face thunderous for the few moments it took before he remembered to compose himself.
“Stop being such a fucking cock-tease.” Spike could almost hear it.
He sat up as well, shuffling slightly further away and righting his clothing. He looked consideringly at Angel for long moments. “You know, my father was over a few months ago.”
The other man raised his eyebrows at the abrupt conversational shift. “Yeah?” he asked warily, still painfully hard and pissed as hell about being cut off.
“Lindsey was up. Dad loves him,” he snorted, still rather disbelieving about the whole thing himself. “Kinda pissed me off, yanno? I was being the usual emo brat that he seems to turn me into, and I was like, “Why the hell are you suddenly alright with me being queer?” ‘Cause, you know, he’s been a bit of twat about it in the past?”
Angel nodded. Yes, he did know. He still had no idea why he should be finding it relevant though when all he wanted was to pound into that sweet fucking ass.
“And do you know wot he said to me? He said, “Because this is the first time I’ve really believed that it makes you happy.”” Spike paused, his eyes focussing back on the present. He looked intently at Angel. “He hates you.”
Although it wasn’t exactly news, Angel blinked in surprise. This couldn’t be heading anywhere good.
Spike suddenly shook his head incredulously, as if he’d discovered some earth-shattering secret that should have been obvious. “Wot the fuck am I doing?”
“Hey! Where are you going?” demanded Angel as the blond got to his feet. He rose as well. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me that this is about that hick asshole!” He really wasn’t over Spike’s love affair with Lindsey and he was still bearing one motherfucker of a grudge about both the bruised jaw and his Viper. The redneck prick was fucking lucky that he’d been trying to tap Spike, or else he’d have had him arrested.
Spike appraised him coolly, realising that his nice-guy façade had crumbled at the first sign of not getting what he wanted. “It is, and it isn’t. Lindsey probably won’t take me back now, but regardless of that I deserve better than you. He taught me that.”
“You’re saying that he’s better than me?!” he hissed through gritted teeth, expression dark with fury and outrage. “I can give you everything that he can’t!”
“That’s right…And nothing that he can.”
“Christ, Spike! What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s uneducated white trash! And a violent thug on top of that…”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about him twatting you like that…” Angel’s story as to why Lindsey had punched him and smashed up his car had been focussed on jealousy and drunken rage. “Thing is…I know him better than that. You said something about me, didn’t you?” He just knew that Lindsey wouldn’t consider Angel worth the hassle of hitting unless there was a good reason.
“What? No, of course not,” he replied quickly.
“Right,” Spike sneered. “Well, wot the fuck ever. I’m out of here. We’re no good for each other, Angel; we never were. And even if Lindsey doesn’t want me anymore, honestly I’d rather be alone.”
“I don’t fucking believe this…You’re choosing him? Over me?”
“Yeah,” shrugged Spike simply. There was no need to elaborate, and he didn’t particularly feel like wasting any more time on Angel when he had a lot of important things to be thinking about.
Angel shot him a black glare as he grabbed his coat. “You walk out of that door, Will, and you’re gonna regret it.”
“Pull the other one, Angel. Coming back to you would be the worst thing I could ever do and make all the idle threats you want ‘cause your dad won’t let you make things difficult for me at work. So, you know wot? Fuck you and the hoss you rode in on, dipshit.”
Enjoying the look on Angel’s face far more than he probably should, Spike winked and said, “That was one of Lindsey’s. I’ll let myself out.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What the bloody hell had he been playing at?
Six fucking weeks! That was forty-two days of leaving Lindsey to get over him and find someone else when he should have been grovelling at his feet, begging him to take him back.
He’d made the man he loved feel like shit for not wanting to leave the places and people he loved to come to New York – which was, after all, just the city Spike happened to be living in; he didn’t care about it. He’d let Lindsey think that Spike considered Angel (that wanker!) better than him, which was so ridiculous that it wasn’t even funny. He’d belittled everything that Lindsey cared about, everything that he was, and then told him to leave and never come back.
Fuck. He’d be lucky if Lindsey didn’t put his lights out and then kick his sorry arse all the way back to the Big Apple.
For some reason, his mind kept flitting back to what Lindsey had said about liking his pickup, faults and all. She wasn’t new or shiny or impressive, but she made him happy. It was just him all over. Why bother striving to buy a Mercedes if you liked the car you had? And why should he have stuck with college and some hotshot career when he liked big open skies and working the land?
And why the fuck should Spike ask him to change when he loved him exactly the way he was?
He just prayed that Lindsey would at least give him the chance to apologise, even if he told him to go fuck himself like he undoubtedly deserved.
END CHAPTER FOUR.
Read Chapter 5.
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