Angel was wandering through the quiet back hallways of Wolfram and Hart. These were mostly storage rooms left alone to collect dust, save for the occasional gopher retrieving a document or mystical item. The silence felt good after the recent craziness that is being a supernatural-centered law firm. The last case had consisted of a possessed soda machine that shot out cans of pop at a lethal velocity and spat acid. They defeated it using a mix of exorcism and just plain beating the crap out of a huge hunk of metal and plastic. Wesley hasn't mentioned that the machine would explode, and now Angel was using the very last of his hair styling products. He sighed. It could be worse - he could have been drenched in acid instead of just drenched in diet cola a few hours earlier. All in all he was tired, low on hair gel, and searching for peaceful solitude.
He had just thought he'd found it, when he heard a low groan coming from a door on his right. Angel froze; he knew that groan. What the hell was Spike doing, groaning in an abandoned storage room...? He could've sworn he'd seen Harmony at her desk when he walked past on the way here. The thick layer of dust that was on each doorknob he'd passed was curiously missing from this knob.
"What did you expect when you asked me to do you?" he heard Gunn say, laughter clear in his voice. Angel blinked. Gunn and Spike were together? When did that happen? He'd just found out that Wes and Fred were dating - how did he get so far out of the loop?
"I just didn't count on it being so pleasurable." Spike's husky voice replied. Angel frowned. How could Spike not expect it to feel good? He remembered taking his pleasure of William before the soul, but he could've sworn that Spike had enjoyed it as well.
Gunn chuckled. "Baby, you haven't felt anything yet. Wanna try out the big toys now?" A whirring sound started, and Angel backed away from the door. Gunn and Spike's romance really was none of his business and he should probably go and never wander around storage hallways again. He was five feet away from the door when high-pitched laughter stopped him in his tracks. His jaw dropped as he recognized Fred's voice.
"That thing was vibrating so much, my hand is still tingling." The shock was rapidly shutting down Angel's brain. Fred was with Spike and Gunn? What about Wesley? Angel was certain he would have noticed a troika forming under his nose. Yeah, he had smelled Gunn and Fred on Spike a few times, but he thought that it was from hanging out, not from more intimate liaisons. He didn't think he'd smelled them more on his childe than he'd smelled Wesley on him, and Wesley would never-
"You get used to it rather quickly." Wesley's voice filtered through his shock, only to cause more shock. "I am curious what provoked you to do this, Spike." Angel stepped closer to the door, wondering if maybe now he'd get a reason for this madness.
"Lorne suggested it. Thought this would help soothe my soul." Angel bit back a curse. Damn fates - sex made him lose his soul, but sex made Spike at peace with it? Unlife was so unfair. "Am I pretty?"
"You're gorgeous, Spikester." Lorne replied. "I told you this was a good idea."
"Oh, it feels so good!" Spike moaned as the whirring noise continued. And Lorne was involved with them too, Angel wondered. Was there an office orgy memo he'd missed or something? Just because he lost his soul when he slept with Buffy didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate at least an invitation to the orgy. And he'd slept with Eve without losing his soul. And hadn't Wesley been yelling at him about how the vast majority of relationships never reach perfect happiness? So it wasn't like he could immediately be marked off the orgy invitation list... He took a deep breath to try to calm himself, but instead inhaled the arousal coming from the occupants of the room. "Ohhh..." Spike groaned again, and Angel couldn't decide whether to open the door and join in, or to just walk away and try to forget the entire situation.
"Can I? For a little while?" He heard Fred ask hesitantly. Apparently consent was given, for a moment later, "Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I'm ready. I've been ready for a while." Spike purred. Fred was giggling as the whirring sound continued. "Oh!" she exclaimed and he could hear someone sputtering and spitting. "I'm sorry! Maybe I should shave-"
"No," He heard Spike quickly reassure her, "It'd no problem, just a little hair on my tongue is all."
"Still," she hedged, "Maybe Wes would like a turn."
"Is that right? Do you want some of this?" He could hear the smirk on Spike's face.
Wesley hesitated, "Well, I don't have that much experience - I'm far more often the receiver than the giver in this situation. But I'll give it a try."
"Come on then, Percy." Spike replied. "Whack me." The whirring noise began again and Angel could hear Spike moaning. Wesley began to chuckle. "What?" Spike asked, sounding offended.
"Oh, it's nothing." Wesley said. "I'm almost done anyway."
"Don't leave us hanging, English." Gunn told him. "Spill."
The whirring sound stopped. "It's just... I was wondering what Angel would look like in Spike's position." Instantly five voices started laughing.
"Oh, can you imagine?" Fred gasped between her laughter.
"The poofter would probably go crazy." Spike cracked up.
Gunn snickered. "Thank goodness Fang-Boy isn't here."
"But he is." Spike sounded smug.
The laughter died quickly and was replaced by a pregnant pause, and the sound of footsteps coming towards the other side of the door. Angel cast a glance down the hallway, wondering if he sprinted, if he would make it around the corner and out of sight before the door opened. His hesitation cost him, and he was left standing with a deer-in-the-headlights expression as Lorne opened the door. Behind Lorne to the right, Wesley and Fred were sitting on a loveseat. To the left, Spike sat in a hairdresser's swivel chair, Gunn standing behind the chair, running his hand absently over Spike's scalp. There was a thin layer of peach fuzz where bleached blond curls used to be - the remains of Spike's platinum hair was scattered on the floor around the chair. Everyone was fully clothed.
"Hey, Angel!" Fred said, blushing slightly. "What are you doing standing out there? Why didn't you come in earlier?" Angel couldn't come up with an excuse.
"Peaches probably thought we were having an orgy or something, and was sore that he didn't get an invite." Spike snorted. Angel glared at his childe, who just smirked. Gunn smacked Spike upside the head, and Spike yelped. "Hey!"
"I don't understand." Fred frowned. "Why would Angel think..." She trailed off.
Gunn started shaking with barely-restrained mirth, and Spike pointed out, "Think about what we've been saying, and take it out of context."
"Oh." Fred blushed, and started giggling again. Beside her, Wesley shifted on the loveseat, grinning as he picked blond strands of hair from an electric razor.
"Really, Angel-cakes. Shame on your for thinking we'd have an orgy without letting you know." Lorne patted Angel on the shoulder. He turned toward the other occupants of the room. "Well, I'd love to stay here and tease the big boy more, but I've got to run. People to read, sea breezes to drink. Tootles." Lorne brushed past Angel and left, humming something under his breath.
Wes and Fred stood. "We should get going too, prophesies to research." Wes said, guiding Fred out with a hand casually at the small of her back. She turned slightly and called to Spike as they left the room.
"Thanks for the show, Spike!"
Angel tilted his head, watching the pair. Gunn was shaking his head and grinning, one hand still massaging Spike's head. Spike's expression was bordering on blissed-out, until he caught Angel staring and scowled. "What's bugging you now, Peaches?"
"You're together?" It wasn't really a question.
Spike grinned. "You didn't know? Bloody hell, you're blind."
Angel swallowed the snarl that rumbled in the back of his throat. His gaze caught on the mirrors against two of the walls, the few chairs identical to Spike's that were positioned in front of the mirrors. "What is this place?"
Gunn shrugged. "Spike found it while he was playing Casper. We figure it's one of the perks for the girls in transcription. I've caught Harmony down here a few times too."
"So... why are you shaving your head, Spike?" Angel asked, puzzling over what he had overheard. "You said it was Lorne's idea? To soothe your soul?"
Spike shrugged. "Just figured a change was needed." He gestured at Angel, "You should know - when you got all souled you cut your hair, shortened your name, and started wearing poncy clothing. Figured I'd follow your example, but without the brooding and rat-eating for a century."
"You're thinking about changing your name?" Angel asked.
"If I think of something that sounds good." Spike replied.
Gunn snickered. "Oh, what about-"
Spike cut him off. "If you suggest 'Randy', I will tear out your tongue and stick it up your-"
"Will!" Angel chided.
Spike glared at him. "And I'm not going back to Will, either. Wanker's name if ever there was one."
Gunn raised his hands palm-out, defensively. "I was just going to suggest 'James'."
Angel's gaze raked down and up Spike's body. "You do look like a James."
Spike scoffed. "Please. I'm no more a James than I am..." he floundered for a moment, "...a Charlemagne, or something."
Gunn laughed, and an idea struck Angel. And idea that could make his day all better again. "Spike, I'm going to ask you this once." Angel said, the weight in his voice forcing Spike into looking at him seriously.
"Fine. What do you want to know? And keep in mind what Gunn and I do together is private."
Angel shrugged off the implied insult and asked, with a hopeful gleam in his eye. "Is there any hair-gel in here?"