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Coming Into His Own

Title: Coming Into His Own
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Angel/Spike, Spike/Buffy, past Angel/Buffy
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Day 3: and in honor of their August mini nekid guest: Angel
Warning(s): AU, Future Fic
Word Count: 796
Date Written: 6 August 2017
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.





“Do I have to sing?” he asks wearily when Lorne opens his door.

“God, no, darling,” the green Demon answers without hesitation, “I don’t think I could handle you butchering another of Barry’s songs. Besides, you’re positively screaming! Come on in, have a drink, and we’ll talk about it.”

As Lorne bustles to his bar, Angel starts to protest, “I -- “

“Don’t drink?” Lorne finishes for him without looking back. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ve just got a good AB positive.”

Angel slumps in a chair as Lorne mixes his drink, pours Angel’s blood into a glass, and, with the brooding Vampire still not looking at him, splashes a sizeable dollop of whiskey into his blood. Carrying the drinks back, he sits them down and watches as Angel drinks, either not recognizing the unusual taste of his blood or, as Lorne suspects, simply not caring enough to notice.

He downs half the glass before admitting, “I just . . . I always thought it would be me.”

“Who did what, Angelcakes, besides butcher Mandy? Marry her? Marry him?”

Angel glowers at him. Lorne spreads his hands out between them. “Hey, you came asking for my help, not the other way around!”

“I know.” He growls in frustration and looks away. “I just . . . “

“You just thought everybody was oblivious to how you feel for your boy? Please, Angel! If you thought I was that dumb, you wouldn’t’ve come to me!”

“Well . . . “

“I’m right. You know I’m right. Just like you know you need to show up.”

“I don’t want to see him marry her!”

“I know you don’t,” Lorne says gently, “and I’d like to say maybe it’s not too late, but the boy’s rather taken with her, just like you were once. She was the chick you crawled out of the sewers for, wasn’t she?”

Angel nods glumly. He can’t rebuke the truth, and the truth is he had his chance. He had his chance with both of them, and he blew it.

“And she’s the one who inspired Spikeyboy to go get his own soul.”

“He didn’t get it because of her! He got it because he’s always wanted to be like me, and -- “

Lorne shakes his head, his red horns drawing downward. “That lie might cut it with them,” he tells him, “but we both know better.”

Angel sighs into his drink and takes another gulp of spiked blood. “Maybe,” he admits, “but if that’s the case, Lorne, if he did go get his soul so she would love him -- “

“Then you’re screwed? Yeah. Probably. For now at least. But you know, you’re both going to outlive Buffy and myself and probably all the rest of us.”

“So what? I should just let him have this?”


“You love him, Angel, and because you love him, you want him to be happy.” Angel nods mutely, not trying to dispute the truth any longer. “So let him have what he thinks is going to make him happy. Don’t try to stand in their way of happiness. That’ll only cause more problems between you. But when he eventually realizes that she’s not what he needs to be happy, -- “

“I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

“I was going to say be there for him, comfort him, and see what happens, but it sounds like you already have a pretty good handle on this, like you usually do when you come seeking my help.”

Angel sighs and, with a small smile beginning to lift his countenance, finishes his drink. “I guess, maybe, sometimes I just need to hear it out loud.”

“Well then here this, sugar: You’re a handsome hunk. You’re a hero. But right now, your childe still sees you as Angelus. He still sees you as the one to beat, not the one to love, but you let him alone, be there for him as and when he needs you, and he’ll come around.”

“You’re sure of it?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” Lorne winks at him. “Besides, he’d have to be crazy to keep turning you down, and even Spike’s not that crazy.”

Angel sighs again, pushes his chair away from the table, and stands. “Thanks, Lorne,” he says, his smile still wavering. “I guess I better get moving. They get married in a couple of hours.”

“And you need to make it to Sunnydale before then.” Lorne raises his glass to him. “I’d say good luck, but you don’t need it. Just don’t sing Manilow.”

The jest finally does break a smile out on Angel’s handsome face. Lorne watches him go, then sighs, alone, into his drink. Oh, yeah, Spike would have to be certifiably crazy to turn that down, and even Spike isn’t that crazy. No one is.


The End

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