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Current mood:	awake
Entry tags:	fic, fic: all buffy&angel, fic: domestic bliss, fic: spike/riley

Domestic Bliss 28/?
Domestic Bliss 28/?

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

A/N: This isn't the full chapter that I was intending, but I figure that posting this might give me the push I need to finish off the fic. We're nearly there!

Spike hangs back, lighting one cigarette off the glowing butt of another, silently watching as Riley opens the trunk of his car. Riley hasn't offered any explanations, or given away his game plan, and he's just hoping that Spike doesn't get curious and start asking a million questions he won't or can't answer.

There's a large black bag in the trunk. Riley unzips it, revealing the long, ominous barrel of an M4 assault rifle, complete with laser pointer and silencer.

'What, the grenade launcher doesn't come as standard?' Spike snorts. 'You overcompensating for something?'

Riley just cocks his eyebrow, surprised that Spike's making a joke right now, and also because, really, they both know better.

'Right,' Spike says, chastened. 'So, uh, where'd you get that, anyway? Angel ante up?'

'No,' Riley says, with more distaste than he means, because he's tired of Angel, tired of hearing his name, tired of having to go to him every time they need something. He knows it shouldn't, but Angel's grudging offer of help burns like acid in his stomach. 'I know a guy.'

'Uh huh. Thought you said you didn't know anyone in LA.'

'I know people.'

'So why didn't you stay with "people", then?'

'We really don't have that kind of relationship.'

'And we did?'

Riley straightens up, slamming the trunk. 'Well at least I knew you were house-trained.'

'You do say such lovely things.'

'I'm all about the charm,' Riley deadpans.

He's not expecting it when Spike reaches out and touches him, the backs of his knuckles to Riley's jaw in unspoken question. Riley wants to flinch away, wants to close his eyes and lean into it, but he does neither, just stands there and lets Spike touch him. He breaks away first, staring at the ground as he backs away. It's really difficult to look in Spike's eyes. It feels like a lie.

Riley has the engine started and he's buckling himself in by the time Spike gets in the passenger seat. Spike is breathing, slow and steady, as though he needs the air to ground him, as though it's going to do him some good.

'Riley, I'm going to need something to work with here. What the fuck are you planning to accomplish with a gun? And so help me,' he says quickly when Riley opens his mouth, 'if the next words out of that pretty mouth are "I have a plan" I'll slap you silly.'

Riley grips the steering wheel and stares out at the Wolfram & Hart parking lot. 'I need your help,' he says. 'When it's time.'

'Oh, that's nice and vague. Anything in the way of details?'

'I just need muscle.'

'What can I do? I didn't exactly come out on top last time I tangled with your boy. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind another go around, but realistically...?'

'All I need you to do is back me up.'

'Riley,' Spike groans, 'whatever you're playing at here, all this cloak and dagger rubbish, I don't like it. Not one little bit.'

'Potion and dagger,' Riley says, making Spike grudgingly nod. 'Ways and means. I... We can do this. And you don't have to like it.' Riley turns his head and looks Spike in the eye. 'Just back me up. That's all I'm asking.'

Spike narrows his eyes; a muscle jumping in his cheek. He stares at Riley for a long time, and Riley has to fight the urge to squirm, mentally standing to attention.

'Don't make me regret this,' Spike says eventually.

Riley doesn't answer; just guns the engine and pulls out of the parking lot and west towards the hills.