Spike wanted to be upset but, as always, it came out as anger. He never knew how to express half of what he felt, that was why his poems were such a hot mess. Angrily, he jumped up and started to pace, agitated and worked up.
"Stop playing this game, I know what you're doing. Use my name and -- this is what you do to Dru! And it gets all in your head and starts to -- God!" He growled and kicked a nearby stack of boxes. Like a big man. "You drive me up the bleeding bend, you do."
Moving forward, he gave him a small shove, not enough to do anything but empathises his point. Gritting his teeth, he stayed in his personal space, hand on his chest.
"You're jealous that I got everything and you got nothing. Not any more!"
Angel didn't really have anywhere to go, and he couldn't really move forward to assert some form of dominance either so he just sort of jutted his chin out at Spike and stayed put.
"Maybe your real problem is that I'm not. I don't want anything that you have, I don't know why you can't get that through your thick skull."
"I got Dru, I got more respect, I'm badder than you ever were. Face it, Angelus. I outdid you." Yes, this was a pathetic dick measuring context but what else did he have? He was young, an idiot and trying to defeat the person who represented all his insecurities.
"You got nothing on me." He gripped Angel's jacket and moved in close, practically bearing his teeth. "Nothing."
"I hope for your sake that you're nowhere close to being what I was, because you don't want that kind of fallout poisoning your life, Spike."
He took hold of Spike's wrists and tore his hands away from his jacket. He would have gladly let go after, but he kept his hold in case Spike decided to take a swing at him.
Spike wriggled around in Angel's grip but he couldn't just get him off. Embarrassing, actually. He shoved at him again and groaned in annoyance. "Fucking let go of me now, Peaches. I mean it."
"You're the one wrestling me! Trying to show you got the bigger balls. S'load of bullshit." And then he leaned in, annoying close, almost nose to nose. "We both know you can't do anything about me. Can't get rid of me, can't hurt me, just gotta live with me."
"Do you seriously kiss Dru with that breath? Because let me tell you, it's ripe."
No, not really, but he had to say something, didn't he? Now would probably be a good time to shove Spike away, but that felt too much like giving him a win so Angel just stayed where he was, unmoving.
"Oi, I taste great. Like kissing a ... a pepper mint stick-- thing." Something minty and not just, you know, stale cigarettes. And, because he's petty as hell, he launched forward and kissed Angel. A weird move, on hindsight.
One he regretted as soon as he pulled back but he was trying to make a point. Somehow. Kinda. "... See. I taste great."
Actually, he had no idea what Spike tasted like because the kiss had been over even before he had fully processed that it had begun.
Not that he was trying to make it happen again or something, no matter what it might seem like when he licked his lips as if to maybe try to catch some of that taste he hadn't had the focus to feel.
"And yet girls love it, you know? I'm bloody irresistible. Bet you're wanting it more too now, ain't you? Addictive."
Of course, that could be all the nicotine.
Spike smirked a smug smirk and moved in closer again, partly taunting and admittedly, partly on an adrenaline rush. Excited and eager, wanting more of essentially what he couldn't or shouldn't have. Chasing some validation too, while he was at it. "You hardly taste much better."
There was a depressingly familiar pang of perverse pleasure inside him as he said that, the old delight at being wanted in defiance of sense and maybe even morality still somewhat a part of him.
It should make him put a stop to this, but instead he leaned in too, and let his lips brush a little against Spike's.
"Like... dunno, f-flowers and-- and other poncy shit." Okay, he's too thrown to properly work it out or insult well. He kind of tastes like he'd expected. Strangely minty. Who the fuck stays minty this far into the day? He's such a goodie two shoes these days.
Swallowing hard, he huffed out of his nose for a long time, frustrated and so easily baited.
And, because he always gave in so easily, he launched for to kiss him again. Fuck it, that'll... show him?
Flawless logic there. Now the proper thing to do with this "victory" would have been to push Spike away and laugh at him. That was how these games were played, Angel still knew how to do it as well as ever.
What he did, however, was let go of Spike's wrists so he could wrap his arms around him and hold him close while they kissed.
It hurt quite a bit, but Angel had never minded a bit of pain with his pleasure.
He couldn't really come up with a good reason why he was doing this, but in all honesty he wasn't really thinking much at all.
Eventually Spike did catch himself, flying back away from Angel and out of his grip. No longer could he justify that as a prank... or could he? "Right, well, that settles it. You're poncy and you taste like garbage. Great. Just -- Just great."
Looking away from Angel, he filled around with his lighter so he didn't have to think about anything else, tense and a little anxious.
The fuck was that?
"Where the hell is your mate, anyway? Got places to be."
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Spike wanted to be upset but, as always, it came out as anger. He never knew how to express half of what he felt, that was why his poems were such a hot mess. Angrily, he jumped up and started to pace, agitated and worked up.
"Stop playing this game, I know what you're doing. Use my name and -- this is what you do to Dru! And it gets all in your head and starts to -- God!" He growled and kicked a nearby stack of boxes. Like a big man. "You drive me up the bleeding bend, you do."
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"The feeling's mutual, Spike."
Was there a more annoying person in the universe?
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Moving forward, he gave him a small shove, not enough to do anything but empathises his point. Gritting his teeth, he stayed in his personal space, hand on his chest.
"You're jealous that I got everything and you got nothing. Not any more!"
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"Maybe your real problem is that I'm not. I don't want anything that you have, I don't know why you can't get that through your thick skull."
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"You got nothing on me." He gripped Angel's jacket and moved in close, practically bearing his teeth. "Nothing."
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He took hold of Spike's wrists and tore his hands away from his jacket. He would have gladly let go after, but he kept his hold in case Spike decided to take a swing at him.
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Spike wriggled around in Angel's grip but he couldn't just get him off. Embarrassing, actually. He shoved at him again and groaned in annoyance. "Fucking let go of me now, Peaches. I mean it."
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It was really stupid to tease Spike, but for some reason Angel couldn't resist.
"Can you keep your hands off of me if I let go?"
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He reached out his otherhand, like the petty child he was, and flicked Angel on the nose. "Can't stop me." And then he did it again. "Ha!"
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"What are you, six?"
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No, not really, but he had to say something, didn't he? Now would probably be a good time to shove Spike away, but that felt too much like giving him a win so Angel just stayed where he was, unmoving.
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One he regretted as soon as he pulled back but he was trying to make a point. Somehow. Kinda. "... See. I taste great."
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Actually, he had no idea what Spike tasted like because the kiss had been over even before he had fully processed that it had begun.
Not that he was trying to make it happen again or something, no matter what it might seem like when he licked his lips as if to maybe try to catch some of that taste he hadn't had the focus to feel.
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Of course, that could be all the nicotine.
Spike smirked a smug smirk and moved in closer again, partly taunting and admittedly, partly on an adrenaline rush. Excited and eager, wanting more of essentially what he couldn't or shouldn't have. Chasing some validation too, while he was at it. "You hardly taste much better."
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There was a depressingly familiar pang of perverse pleasure inside him as he said that, the old delight at being wanted in defiance of sense and maybe even morality still somewhat a part of him.
It should make him put a stop to this, but instead he leaned in too, and let his lips brush a little against Spike's.
"What do I taste like?"
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Swallowing hard, he huffed out of his nose for a long time, frustrated and so easily baited.
And, because he always gave in so easily, he launched for to kiss him again. Fuck it, that'll... show him?
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What he did, however, was let go of Spike's wrists so he could wrap his arms around him and hold him close while they kissed.
It hurt quite a bit, but Angel had never minded a bit of pain with his pleasure.
He couldn't really come up with a good reason why he was doing this, but in all honesty he wasn't really thinking much at all.
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Looking away from Angel, he filled around with his lighter so he didn't have to think about anything else, tense and a little anxious.
The fuck was that?
"Where the hell is your mate, anyway? Got places to be."