Author: Inca
Feedback: Meep meep. - [email protected]
Rating NC17
AU Liam/Spike
Disclaimer: Whedon, Mutant Enemy and all that jazz
Summary: Liam�s an addict
**
He had locked up the shop at five twenty four, and walked quickly home. He looked at the few clothes in his wardrobe and decided on a black buttoned shirt and pants. Not too dressy, but not too casual either. He had a quick hot shower and put the clothes on, checking himself in the frameless mirror in the bathroom, gelling his hair into its usual state. He turned his head from side to side to make sure no errant spikes would look stupid before walking out into the living room and sitting on the couch. He�d leave at about six thirty in order to catch the six thirty nine bus that would take him to west Fourth.
He looked at his watch. Six oh four. He scratched at a small itch on the back of his head with careful fingertips, through the gel, not wanting to disrupt the styled hair.
Should he have dinner? But what if Spike wanted to eat after? He�d have something light. He slipped of the couch, picking up a stray glass he had left on the floor the previous night and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge to peer inside, tapping his fingers on the door.
Wasn�t much in the fridge. He could have a sandwich� a cheese one. Yeah, why not? He grabbed the cheese and a plate, untwisting the bread bag and pulling two pieces form it. He quickly sliced some cheese off the block and made up the sandwich, no butter, just cheese and pepper, like he used to have when he was a kid.
His mother used to make it for him; she was always in the kitchen with her huge aqua blue apron on, in the afternoons, getting dinner ready. She�d put it on a plate, cut off the crusts and shoo him outside to eat it on the cool porch steps, the plate resting on his knobbly knees.
The lazy afternoon would twist past, as he looked over the grass of the thin backyard, bugs noisy and occasionally showing themselves as they buzzed past. His Da� would come home from the shop and visit him on the porch long after the crumbs on the plate were licked off. He�d smile and ruffle his hair with his huge paw and rumble: �Me boy, now tell may, what did ye�ou accomplish t�day?� in his heavy Irish accent that the boys at school made fun of. And Liam would tell him about the book he�d read or the spider he�d found and kept in a small glass jar on his windowsill, watching as its legs slipped down the confines of its prison. He always let it out soon after.
The little wooden house, with it�s view of the white topped mountains watching over the town, the smell of cooking from the kitchen, roast pork, pan fried chicken, hot corn and butter. His mother always favoured butter. Gravy. Bread and gravy for desert instead of ice cream, better than ice cream, he and Da� standing over the stove swiping hunks of bread through the hot, left over gravy in the pan. His mother laughing, telling her husband he was going to have a stroke if he continued to eat like that.
Then after the last drop had been licked, he�d sneak a hard peppermint candy from his mother�s jar and slide off to his room, innocent as a fawn. He�d sit on his patchwork quilted bed and he�d hear the TV cackling through the wall and he�d suck the candy till it was a little sharp white splinter and then crunch it between his teeth, his mouth almost hot from the strength of the mint.
He looked at his watch. Six thirty one.
�Shit!� He exclaimed, grabbing the sandwich and rushing out the door making sure he had his wallet and keys in his pockets. He reached the cool evening air, smelling like old coughing cars rather than the crisp clean mountain air he�d grown up with, and started a brisk pace to the bus stop. The buses were always late, there was no way he�d miss it, but his legs were quick anyhow.
He sat down in the small bus shelter next to a tangled mumbling man who held his garbage bag to his chest as if it were a small wailing baby, rocking it back and forth. The cars shoomed by, all lights and shining paint. A blur. Not a glance from the passers-by was wasted on the two men in the bus stop. Liam wondered when exactly he had become invisible. It was strange he hadn�t noticed. You�d think that was a thing you�d remember. Then he though maybe people did notice him, but made a point of not looking at him.
He remembered the face in the mirror and bit his bottom lip.
He wouldn�t look either.
The bus pulled up. He mumbled his destination, suddenly aware of what he looked like, dressed in nice clothes and gelled hair, icing on a cake that was mouldy underneath. Moulded and destroyed and only fit to be tossed out and� and he took the ticket, slipping into the first available seat, right next to the window so he could look out. L.A. was very bright at night. Christmas lights again the sky. Los Angeles was very pretty at night. When you couldn�t see it for what it really was.
The bus rocked away and Liam slyly looked at the other passengers through the reflection of the window. They all looked unhappy. Maybe he was just projecting. His arms started to prickle with nerves and he wondered if he should just call everything off. Spike wouldn�t�
He saw the street and dinged the bell immediately.
Okay then. He nodded, mentally reinforcing himself. Just a few drinks anyhow, Spike probably won�t want to be there for ages and this will be good. Get out of the apartment.
The bus pulled over, the doors whooshing open. He said thankyou to the driver who ignored him and he got out. He walked down the street keeping his eyes on the buildings until he saw the pub, not daring to look at the people who walked past him. He walked up the few stairs to the front door and entered.
It was hot inside, steamy. From what he had no idea. It was done in traditional English pub style, wooden booths and tables, gleaming bar. Nice. The bar was against the back wall jutting out to the centre of the room, booths around the remaining walls, a few pool tables up the back in an annex running along the bar. He perked up. He liked pool. The tidy green cloth and the clink of the game were alluring.
He ignored them for the moment, and bought a beer taking it back to one of the olive coloured cushioned booths facing the door. The bar was relatively empty. Although it was only eight to seven.
He sipped the ice cold beer, feeling his front teeth pain from the cold as he watched the door. At about seven past, the door slapped open and Spike strutted through looking the same as he had before, white hair and piercings glinting, in the same black jeans and shirt as he had worn all those months ago. But now he wore a long leather coat that swept down to his calves, moving with his body like a second skin, like it was a part of him. Liam blinked. The coat was shocking, so it fitted Spike, darkest black underneath the white of his face and hair. It looked like it belonged in Blade. Like something someone had drawn for a comic book not thinking a person might wear it, especially not with piercings and white hair.
He pulled it off. Every eye in the place turned to watch him appreciatively. Including Liam�s. He was in awe. He�d never be like that. Never possess that much confidence and bravado, no matter how much he wanted to.
He saw Liam and smiled. He swaggered over and fell into the seat.
�Nice coat.�
�Thanks, only thing I brought over from London. Found the place alright?�
�Yes.�
�Not waiting long?�
�No, only a couple of minutes. Got a beer.� He said smiling, indicating the half drunk glass.
�Ahead of me, then. I�ll go grab one.� He said, slapping his black tipped hand down against the wood happily.
He lifted himself up with his hands against the table, slipping out of the booth and wandering to the bar. Liam watched him and shifted his gaze down to look at his glass when Spike turned around to come back, drink in hand.
He gulped a quarter of it down and �ahhh�ed. �Good. Was waiting for that.�
Liam smiled.
�Got some buffalo wings coming, you like buffalo wings?�
Liam smiled again. He should stop that. Say something. �Only if they�re spicy.� He came up with.
�We should get along fine.� He said, raising his eyebrow, stud glinting in the dim light.
They rambled on about a few things, Liam unsure of what he should be talking about. If Spike was unsure about anything, he wasn�t showing it. He slouched back in the booth as comfortable as if he were at home alone, watching television with a bottle of beer in one hand. Liam tried to mimic the comfort but he doubted it worked, as they got back to the easy company they had in the clinic again, over a few more beers, uneasiness washed away.
�So where do you work?�
Liam shook his head in a playful embarrassment. �Colour Copy.�
�What�s that?�
He twisted his glass back and forth. �One of those photocopying places. I just copy things, bind them, fix machines. It�s crap I know.�
�Well, everybody needs photocopying.� Spike commented seriously, taking a sip of his beer.
Liam smiled. �Well that�s one way to look at it. Besides, it�s within walking distance to my place. What about you?�
�Bar. The East Wing.�
�Sounds classy.� He said, sipping at his third beer of the night.
�It�s not. Just one of your usual one long room, drink yourself to death bars. I work some of the late shifts.� He said blithely, taking the basket of wings as the waitress appeared with them. �Ta, luv, you know, its good pay, I don�t mind working nights really. Do one day shift on Tuesday. Well, lunch shift. Start at one.�
�At a bar?� He snagged one of the hot wings out of the basket and put it on a napkin in front of him, wiping the sauce off the tips of his fingers.
�Yeah, the serious drinkers are in at about nine, ten. Boss opens up.� He picked up a sauced wing and bit into it, rolling the taste around on his tongue. He closed his eyes and nodded. �They�re good. Hate bad wings.�
He took a more ravenous bite. �Yeah, so anyway, on my late shifts, gotta kick the boozehounds out at about three in the morning.�
�Three? So, when did you work last?�
�I called you from work last night. I�m a fill in guy. �ve got a few steady shifts, then it�s kinda whatever they throw to me.� He said, with a teasing hint of tongue ring. Liam remembered the tongue ring. How it had felt, hard, emphasising the softness of the tongue, flicking against his own, in his mouth. His tongue. He�d had Spike�s tongue in his mouth.
He blinked.
�Oh. Okay.� He said, completely forgetting what they had been talking about, lost in the ghost feeling of how the soft and hard tongue moving against his own.
�Yeah I like the night, well, early morning shift. Always kinda worked those hours is why, probably. I�ve always liked the night better. Sun�s too bright for me.� He grinned.
Liam couldn�t see himself working night shifts. Well he couldn�t at his job anyway, but if he worked at a bar. Spike lifted another wing from the basket and gave it a lick, his tongue ring poking out, before he bit into it. The previous wing was picked clean; lying discarded on a napkin.
Spike seemed too preoccupied with the wings to start any new conversations. Liam took a swallow of his beer and tried to think of something to say. He was always so bad with conversation. Ever since he was a little kid.
He picked at his own wing, pulling a thin strip of meat from it.
When he was close to someone, when he knew them inside and out, he didn�t have a problem thinking of things to say, but before then� he was useless, like now, he didn�t really know Spike that well. He knew he was comfortable, mostly, around Spike, and that he liked to be with him, but what it came down to, was that he didn�t even know his last name.
Like with Cordy, he�
His mind stuttered as he realised he didn�t know how to talk to her either. Loneliness crept up behind him, blowing icy wind on the back of his neck and pumping cold through his veins. He looked at the almost drunk beer in front of him. He realised he wasn�t really close to anyone. Except coke. He knew coke inside and out. Knew it like the back of his hand, knew how to care for it, knew it would be there for him, ready to love him with a sharp prick in his arm, ready to wipe out all the hurt and replace it with sunshine yellow, and sooth his mind with fingers of hope and warmth and family. And he�d abandoned it.
He started. What the hell was he thinking? He shuddered at what had been running through his head. He was going insane. Coke wasn�t a friend. It was killing him.
He looked over at Spike who was frowning with concentration as he tried to snare the last shreds of chicken with his teeth. Spike had made an effort to find him. That said a lot.
He smiled and demanded his brain think of something to say.
�So, how have you been? Since you got� out?� He asked, unsure if that was too personal.
Spike dropped the bones on top of the other rejected wing and licked his fingers. �Good, good. Job, apartment. Got my cat back. He was with a friend. I don�t see why you can�t take animals into rehab. Animals are meant to be therapeutic.�
Liam nodded.
�What about you? What have you been doing?�
what did ye�ou accomplish t�day?
�Sorry?� he asked, distantly.
�What have you been doing with yourself?�
�Um, not much. Trying to find a bigger apartment on my salary.� He confided.
�Why?�
�My kid, Connor.� He started fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. �Uh, well, I�d rather he had his own room where I was living, so he felt he could� stay� if he felt like it.� He shook some pepper onto the table and then opened a sugar packet and poured it out on top of it, busying himself. He didn�t like this line of conversation. He felt stupid, and useless.
�What, you only have a one bedroom?�
�Yeah.� He swirled a finger through the mixture. �I just think he should have his own room.�
�Yeah, why not?� Spike said, watching the patterns he was making. �So how�d you get into it all anyhow?� he asked, changing the conversation. And Liam knew what he was talking about.
�College. Or high school, I guess, if you count weed. Then I just� did the usual drug screwing. Hung around with the wrong people I guess.� He said reflectively. He looked up to see Spike listening, focused on him. �It was just smoking dope, maybe some ecstasy at parties you know, little things, just� little things. But then a friend, more into the drug scene, gave me some k.� he paused and then nodded, sweeping the sugar pepper mixture of the table and into his hand, dropping in on the floor. �Yeah I think it was once I started special k, that�s kinda when it happened.� He dusted his hands.
�Want a bump, Li?�
He turns around, sees Lar and Red�s smiling faces. �A what?� He asks over the throb of the music in the room.
�Heh, give him some. It�s great Li, you�ll love it.�
�Kept looking for more junk?� Spike asked.
�Yeah. I mean, I started using it just to take the edge off all the college �stuff. My girlfriend fell pregnant and I don�t think I was ready for that.�
Spike nodded and sipped his beer. �So it just kept getting harder?�
�Yep. Tests and pressures and seeing Cordy�s belly growing bigger and bigger and thinking, �that�s my baby, I have to look after it�.� He laughed for a second. Then shook his head and blinked. �I don�t know. So I kept hanging out with the wrong people, trying to find some ��
�Escape?� Spike supplied, the eyebrow with the bar through it, cocked.
Liam smiled and nodded. �Yeah. But that sounds horrible, doesn�t it? I wanted to escape from my pregnant girlfriend?�
�No. Not horrible. How old were you?�
�Connor was born when I was twenty one.�
�You were a baby. Grown up since then.� Spike said solemnly.
Liam nodded. �Grown up a lot.�
�So, you flicked from k to coke?�
�Coke was pretty available. I couldn�t function when I took ex and drugs like that. Speed makes me freak out a little. But coke? I could go to work on coke.� He said glumly, realising how stupid he sounded.
�And you started mainlining because snorting wasn�t strong enough.� Spike murmured into his glass.
Liam was surprised. �How�d you know that?�
Spike looked up with a smirk, and a friendly laugh in his eyes. �You told me.�
�Oh.� Liam frowned. �Well yes. But it�s also because I came to rehab� my, uh, �He thought back quickly. �My � second time to rehab, and I met a man named Jacob. He was a coke user. Snorted it.�
�Yeah?� Spike asked, intrigued.
�And he�� he thought back again, trying to remember the year. He couldn�t even remember how old he�d been and he felt horrible for it. The last six years were split up into two groups. Three years before the divorce and three after. �Anyway, he was in my group, and he had no septum.�
�Septum?� Spike interrupted.
Liam pointed to the little strip of flesh between his nostrils. Spike�s eyebrows lifted.
�Yeah. It was� it was like it was just ... burnt away, he just had one nostril.� Liam shook his head. �So I mainlined it once. The thought of that � I always said I would never stick a needle into myself, but��
�You were addicted.� Spike said, and Liam watched the table to hide the warm swell that bubbled inside at the understanding. �You �ad to get it some�how.�
�Yeah. And mainlining� it was so much better. I mean�.� He laughed a little, incredulous at the memory. He was suddenly itching for it again. Fur and heat at the back of his tongue, his mouth dry, his chest heaving. Sharp sting in his arm. Then the warmth would spread through him, fingers to toes to eyelids.
�So what about you?� He asked desperately, changing the conversation.
�Me?� He thought for a moment, rubbing his thumb through the condensation on his glass. �I �hung out with a weird crowd. Since I was about fifteen. Little street punk gang, we were. All mohawks and chains. Started off on LSD at parties. We all bloody loved it too; we used the tabs or the blotters, whatever. We were using every week. Even started dishing it out to the younger sods, right? Until it all went tits-up. Mate of mine, he�d had a fight or summin� was in a bad mood and we all told him not to use it, you know, we�d all had our share of bad trips. But he did anyway, said he�d be fine. And we all got shagged on it too.�
He took a sip of his beer. �We found him the next day in the bathtub. He�d slit �his wrists.�
Liam looked at him, but his eyes didn�t stray up, just watched his beer as he brought it to his lips again.
�Never touched that again since. So anyway, some of them moved on to harder stuff, I kinda stayed in the less hard stuff. Did ex, my jellies. After a bit, I kinda wanted to try smack as well. And it was great.� He shook his head, and Liam could tell he was savouring the high he�d felt. He could taste it. �But I�ve seen what it can do. I kinda think of smack as selling your soul to the devil. I mean, you get a shitload for it at first, nothing could be better, nothing in the world can top that. But then, the best parts go, and� you�re basically fucked.�
Liam snorted a world-weary laugh and shook his head. �I�ve never done it.�
�Don�t.� he said sharply.
He nodded again.
�So anyway, another friend died of an OD. Just died, was found blue on the chair in front of the tube. I stopped. I was lucky. My friends� they were addicted. The didn�t stop.� For the slightest of moments he looked haunted, his face scared and vulnerable like Liam had never seen. But then it snapped away, and all that was left was the usual smirking, amused-by-everyone expression. �I didn�t want to wait for them to die so I moved. Dunno why I picked America. Always looked good in movies I �spose.�
Liam was still thinking about the desperate look that had made it through Spike�s defences. He smiled at him in what he hoped was an understanding way.
�When did you move?�
He looked at the ceiling, thinking. �Uh, �bout four years ago. Was going pretty well there for a while.� He smiled, almost bitterly.
�I get that.� He said, trying to tell Spike he�d been there.
Spike looked at him. �I know.� He said plainly. They looked at each other for a long moment, faces blank, a world of thoughts and emotions in the void gaze, until Liam averted his eyes, fearing he�d let on too much, let him see too much, and picked at the wing on his napkin.
�But enough about that.� Spike�s voice said as Liam stared down into the white meat and bone.
Liam suddenly looked up, locking eyes with Spike. �Why did you call me?�
�Because I wanted to.� Spike answered plainly.
�Yes, but why?�
Spike�s eyes flicked away for a moment, resting on the woman serving drinks to a couple at the long gleaming bar. �I don�t know. Just thought� I don�t know.�
�Why did you talk to me that first time?�
�Why does it matter?� Spike asked with a slight frown, blue eyes ticking back, so sure.
�I was just wondering.�
�Well, I saw you freaking out at the trivia night.� Spike said blithely, oblivious to Liam�s shuddering recollection of the night. �And the next day � I don�t know, you just seemed different. Is this about the kiss?� He raised an eyebrow, still frowning.
It wasn�t actually. He�d wondered about that. Definitely thought about it, a lot.
�Cause that was just � you know,� he looked lost for words, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. �You were bored and so was I. We both saw it was all so stupid. We had something in common. That and we�re both just�� He stopped.
�We�re both what?� he asked, curiously.
�Doesn�t matter.� He looked down at his watch. �Bollocks. I have to go, working tonight.�
His eyes flicked down to the table. �Oh.�
�You need a lift home?� Spike asked, quirking a smile.
�Oh, I don�t want to int-�
�Come on then.� Spike said, downing the rest of his beer in a gulp, tipping his head back as he stood up. �No trouble really.� He said, turning and striding towards the exit, without listening to Liam�s answer.
Liam walked quickly to catch up, and followed the peroxide swagger down a side street to a back alley parking lot.
�You alright to drive?� He asked.
�Yeah, sure.� He answered confidently, stopping at a black car.
Liam looked closer. Double take. Blinked.
�This is a 1959 DeSoto Adventurer� he breathed, hardly daring to say it.
�Yup.� Spike ran a hand up the hood as he walked to the drivers seat. He unlocked and slipped in.
�You drive a 1959 DeSoto Adventurer.� He stated, mesmerised by the shiny black and silver. The jagged silver strip jumping to the fin. The chrome rims. He felt a tingle.
The passenger door popped open. �She�s my baby.� Spike�s voice purred from within.
He slowly slid over and slipped inside, nestling comfily into the seat, pulling the seatbelt over him reverently. He shivered a little as he clicked the door closed.
�This is great!� He suddenly enthused as Spike turned the key and the car growled to life.
Spike looked at him and pulled a cigarette out, �Cars make you wet then, luv?� He grinned, white teeth gleaming as he flicked the lights on. �Have to remember that.�
Liam shook his head with a laugh, and felt his cheeks get hot as Spike watched him, throwing the car in reverse and ripping out of the spot.
**
�But Marcy, I don�t even care about her!� �You�re a liar Jack, you�ve been a liar ever since the day I met you! Get Out!�
-click-
��lease take care of yourselves... and each other.�
-click-
�You're married to a madman.� �I wish you'd stop taking it for granted that I'm in something I want to get out of.� �What you are talking about is desire - just brutal Desire. The name of that rattle-trap streetcar that bangs throu-�
-click-
�An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.�
-click-
He sighed. There was never anything he wanted to watch on television. He wondered why he even had the damn thing.
-click-
�If Holly liked him so much, how come she punched him and told him he was weird?� �Boys and girls often punch or push or hit each other as a sign of affection.�
He smiled. He used to watch Mork and Mindy years ago. Watched the reruns when they appeared, all through high school.
�Punching and pushing and calling someone names means you like them?� �Yeah, it can.� �Then the cowboys and Indians are lovers?�
He laughed along with the canned noise. He remembered this episode. Mork and Mindy was nice and unobtrusive for a Sunday morning. He watched Robin Williams contort and whisk around as he smiled at the antics on screen; spooned cereal into his mouth as he sat curled up on the couch.
He watched until the credits rolled, putting down the bowl of half eaten mushy cereal and stretching where he sat, in sweats and a long sleeved tee. The clock on the bare wall read ten thirty two. He was at a loss at what to do with himself for the rest of the day. He�d gone for groceries yesterday and cleaned up the apartment. Gone for a walk around the streets, window shopped. He wasn�t sure how else he could use his time.
He frowned at the clock. Ten thirty three.
He sighed and picked up the bowl going to the kitchen to wash it and left the television burbling on behind him, more canned laughter from another Sunday morning show, making the apartment noisy and warmer. Just to have the few rooms filled with something other than the deafening silence that usually filled it, in which he could hear his every breath and beat of his heart, every argument from his neighbours, every step on the floor.
He left the clock radio playing when he went to sleep.
He�d always hated sleeping alone, ever since he was a little kid, always made sure he went to bed when the lights were still on and the television still teased laughs from his parents. He felt safer like that. Knowing there was someone else around. Felt loved.
A coldness on his fingertips made him realise he�d half filled the sink with water while he�d been drifting off.
He cleaned it, slowly, drawing out the moments.
Ring Ring
He let the water out quickly, placing the bowl upside down to dry and wiped his hands on his sweats as he quickly made his way to the phone.
�Hello?� He said, wiping the flesh between his fingers dry with his shirt.
�Hey!� Cordelia�s happy voice chirped.
�Hey, Cordy hi! How are you?� He babbled, smiling in pleasant surprise.
�Good, im pretty good, and you?�
�I�m fine.� He said perfunctorily.
�Good. Listen I was calling about this Sunday?�
Connor. An unease settled in his chest. He couldn�t make it? Unhappiness settled over his face.
�Anything the matter?� He asked warily.
�Um, Connor�s been invited to a birthday party, so could he come on Saturday instead?�
He brightened instantly. �Sure. Sure that�s fine.�
�I know it�s short notice��
�No, really, I had nothing� its fine. So normal time, but on Saturday?�
�Yeah. Yeah, thanks for that.�
He should be thanking her. She could�ve made him seeing Connor impossible, easily done as there was a lot of proof for her to use about his addiction. But she hadn�t. No matter his faults, she had resisted the legal advice and given him visitation rights. Pretended that he was a fit parent. And he loved her fiercely for it.
�No, thankyou.�
She made a little happy dismissive noise and he could imagine her shaking her head and flicking her hand as she stood in the kitchen, twirling the phone cord around her fingers, cradling the receiver between her ear and her shoulder.
�Okay, well see you at nine, this Saturday then.� She said perkily.
�Alright, give my love to Connor.�
�Will do. Bye.�
�Bye.�
She hung up and he put the phone back in it�s cradle. He looked around the room, feeling happy about this weekend, before realising he still had nothing to do right then.
He looked around the white washed walls in distaste. He needed to put something on them. Maybe a print. He could draw something himself, he supposed.
That might look a little egotistical.
But then, who would see it? He thought about this for a moment before going into his room and changing into jeans and a different shirt. He grabbed his keys, locked the windows and headed out to get some materials.
*
He wiped his brow later that evening, getting up from the floor and looking at his charcoaled creations. He nodded. He was happy with them, even though he could see a few imperfections.
He hadn�t drawn in a long while. Wasn�t sure if he still could.
He�d always been proud of his talent, the one thing he had to his name in school. He frowned and wondered why he�d stopped.
Lost his muse he supposed.
He made a vow to draw more, it used to be a release for him. Could help with the �
He blew the excess charcoal of one of the drawings on the A1 rough paper he�d bought. He�d drawn Connor on one, no surprise there, holding cards and frowning down at them, like he had when he�d taught him how to play poker. The other was, strangely, the view from his childhood window, the small backyard with the Rodeckers house behind the back fence and behind that, the mountains.
He smiled faintly at it. Why had he drawn that? It gave him a feeling of calm as he looked at it though, a feeling of warmth and happiness as he was thrown back into the memories, so he cleaned off the excess and started the task of attaching it to the board, so he could put them up on the blank white wall.
**
He turned away from the lap-top when the customer came in. �Welcome to Colour Copy, how can I help you?� he asked, smiling in what he hoped was a friendly, helpful and courteous manner.
The man just sniffed and tossed a pile of paper down on the desk, smoothing down his tie and his very expensive looking suit.
�When�s your pick up?� he asked, peering through tidy frameless lenses at him.
His friendly, helpful and courteous smile wavered a bit at the brisk tone and the bland distaste in the man�s eyes. �Uh, anytime you want. But at the moment we have at least a two hour waiting period.�
�Two hours?� The man repeated loudly, unbelievingly, looking unimpressed.
�Yeah, there are jobs already waiting, and you know, gotta help other walk in customers as well, so two hours at least is a safe bet.� He explained.
�You do realise lunch only goes for an hour.�
Liam�s eyebrows lifted. �Sorry?�
�Lunch. Is only an hour.� He said snippily.
�Oh. Right. Well I�m sorry, but that�s the waiting time.�
The man rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the counter. �Fine, my secretary should be in by then, she usually handles all this� frivolity. She�ll pick it up for me.�
Lucky girl.
�So how much will it be?�
Liam looked at him, waiting for him to describe what he wanted. He didn�t. �You haven�t told me what you�re ordering yet.� He said, trying to be nice.
�Three hundred each of those, this, two hundred and fifty, this the same, those a hundred, this and this two hundred and fifty and this pile oh say, about seventy.� He said quickly, indicating sheet by sheet. Liam fretted as he realised he�d have to ask the man to repeat because he couldn�t remember that.
�Sorry could you repeat so I could write it down?�
The man stared at him, eyes fired. �Why didn�t you write it down then?�
�I didn�t realise it was going to be so ��
�Alright whatever, get a pen, I don�t want to spend all my time here.�
Liam bit his lip hard and wrote the numbers down as the man repeated, patronisingly slow. What an asshole. What was this guys problem anyway?
�Okay and your name?�
�My secretary will be picking them up.� He said like Liam was incapable of understanding human speech.
Liam�s jaw ticked.
�Your secretary�s name then.� He gritted out.
�Danielle.�
�And anything thing else you want with these? What type of paper and things like that?�
�Put a sheet of each of these in a thin folder.� He said indicating three sheets of paper, which he had just ordered three hundred sheets each of.
�I can�t bind three hundred copies.� Liam said, almost laughing in disbelief.
�Isn�t that what you do?�
�Not on that scale. You need a ��
�Fine! Just get three hundred binders and I�ll take care of it.� He said, frustrated.
Liam jotted the note down. �Special paper?�
�Yes put everything except these on a business paper.�
Liam blinked. �Business paper?� He asked, confused.
The man looked at him like he wanted to leap across the desk and strangle him. �Business paper. Bulk of it white with some sort of tasteful design.� He explained slowly, his exaggeratedly careful pronunciation grating the nerves in Liam�s molars and making his fists clench.
�We have colours, or colours split with white, or butterflies? Does any of that interest you?�
The man stared at him for a moment. �Put it on a grey. And a little advice�� He picked up his briefcase. �Lose the attitude, pal, you only work in a photocopying shop.� He said, almost amused.
The door closed behind him as he strode past the glass without a glance back. The shop seemed very, very small and very, very empty, as the photocopiers and the air conditioner thrummed quietly, people noiselessly walking past the store windows.
He nodded a little in the silence, finishing the notes with the word �asshole� and took the papers into the back, feeling like a six-inch tall waste of space. His fingers shook a little as he started copying a previous job, slower than he usually did it; mouth turned down at the corners. The guy was just a bastard; he shouldn�t listen to what he said.
For some reason that truth didn�t make him feel any better. He hadnt been more than a speck to that guy. He rubbed his arm, self-consciously and went to the interconnecting doorway.
He looked back into the store to see if anyone was waiting and almost �gah�ed in surprise at the Spike standing at the desk, staring at the wall full of paper samples with a thinking pout, clad in his ever present black shirt and jeans. He had right been right last Friday. Spike was like a comic book character that never changed his clothes. He smiled at it. Obviously a bit too hot for the coat though.
��ello.� Spike said, smiling once he caught sight of him.
�Hey.� He said coming out from the back grinning, realising too late that he had the dinky uniform shirt on as Spike�s black eyebrow cocked as he took it in.
�Nice shirt.� He said with a smirk.
�This old thing?� he twittered, embarrassed, pulling at the fabric a bit. He laughed a little.
Spike just looked at him calmly, assessing him, bottom lips jutting out a little, ring proudly on display. He was holding a piece of paper.
�Do you have something that needs copying?� He asked, somewhat disappointed.
�Yup. Uh, fifty copies of this.� He sucked the ring between his teeth and nibbled on it, as he handed the paper over. Liam looked down at it in his hands.
The words �Hello Liam� were scrawled across it. He smiled up at him, laughing a bit, for real this time, at the absurdity.
�What?� Spike asked, completely serious. �Fifty copies, mate.�
�Thankyou. I was having a bit of a shit time til you came.� He said, serious. Grateful.
He leaned on the bench tongue curling out over his front teeth, showing off the stud. �Ah, then you can pay me back by coming out with me this Thursday.�
Liam smiled, standing there like he was frozen, not sure what to do. �Um, sure.�
�Okay, great, I�ll pick you up around eight, then.�
That sounded like date talk. Date? With Spike? Probably wasn�t. He couldn�t really say that phrase any differently and he knew Liam didn�t have a car.
�Yep. Uh, thankyou.�
Would he have said yes if it was a date? His stomach squiggled. He didn�t know what he was feeling. But he did want to see Spike again. He�d never dated a man. Shut up Liam, its not a date.
�What�s your apartment number, pet?�
�Oh, um�� Um? What was it again? �Four�� Shit. Idiot! �Four C.�
�Okay great.� He smiled. �Well I�ll let you get back to work then.�
He smiled, and turned walking up to the door. �And Liam, you don�t have to copy that, I just wanted a reason to come see you.� He smiled again, less friendly and more � more than friendly and he slipped out the door, blue eyes watching him as he merged out into the people traffic.
�A reason to come see you?� Liam wondered out loud, his voice soft and diminished. That sounded like flirting. Although what would he know. What if Spike was flirting with him? Oh god, what did he feel about that? He looked down at the scrawled message. He felt a few little sparks in his lower belly and he hurriedly got back to work.
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