“Not there! Put it against the wall.”
“Sod off!! You want it there so badly, come move it yourself. Stupid git.” Spike ducked as a wad of newspaper sailed towards him. He glared at Will over stacks of brown packing boxes.
“If you mess it up, we'll just have to do it again later,” Will primly informed him. Spike scowled at his twin's upper crust accent.
“Why thank ya, Ma. I just wasn't thinking with mah head, darn tootin'.” Will goggled at Spike's horrendous version of a Southern accent. It was...really kind of terrifying, those crawling vowels creeping from Spike's snarky mouth.
“Please...never do that again,” Will said archly, shuddering delicately. Spike sighed and pushed aside his annoyance to reposition the couch...again. Will was being anal about their new apartment, and Spike was very, very happy that he hadn't actually bought him that feng shui book as a joke.
“Does that meet his highness' standards?” he asked sarcastically. Spike turned around and was promptly toppled onto the newly positioned couch.
“It'll do,” Will laughed with a cheeky grin.
***
“Spike! We're going to be LATE. Move your arse!” Spike popped his head out of the bathroom to glare at Will.
“It wasn't MY arse that made us late!” he yelled around his toothbrush. Will smirked, a dangerous and flirty look that most of the world never got to see but that never failed to make Spike's pulse race.
“Actually...”
“Don't. Say it.” Spike ducked back into the bathroom before his dopy grin could give him away. He rinsed his mouth and looked at the mirror. He was wearing a crisp tailored suit, a green tie that set off his eyes, and a smart button-up shirt. He looked like a perfectly respectable business man until you got to his shock of platinum hair, which was slicked back. He looked professionally dangerous, which was the exact look he was going for.
“Vanity will not get us to work on time,” Will griped from the doorway. Spike met his eyes in the mirror and scowled at him, though he couldn't help but notice that Will appreciated his ensemble. Spike spun on his heel and pushed past Will, grabbing up his wallet and briefcase and heading out the door. He paused, turned back to Will and arched an eyebrow.
“Are you coming? We don't want to be late.” Will seriously considered chucking the briefcase at his brother's head.
***
Will was emphatically not fidgeting. He was totally cool, calm, and collected. He was all the relevant Cs.
“Calm down,” Spike growled tersely. Will shot him a nasty look.
“I am calm. And cool. And collected.” Spike shot him a disbelieving look.
“If you get anymore worked up, you'll need a new shirt!” Will kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. He almost jumped out of his skin when Spike's hand gripped the back of his neck, one thumb rubbing against his flushed skin. “You'll be fine. Just...pretend you're talking to me. You don't have a problem ordering ME around.” Will flushed slightly at Spike's lascivious grin.
“Yes, well. Different circumstances.” Spike snorted and squeezed Will's neck before reclaiming his hand.
“You could always consider it extended foreplay.” Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No one would ever believe you top.” Will smirked at Spike, but the doors chimed and opened and the nervousness (calm, cool, collected) was back full force.
“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Spike grabbed Will's arm and hauled him forward. He stopped at the receptionist's kiosk. The receptionist held up an imperious finger.
“Yes, I understand that sir, but unless you have the name of an exec or someone who works here, you're not getting through. No? Goodbye.” She turned back to her computer and pressed the receiver on her bluetooth phone. “Lira publishing, how may I direct your call? Molly! Hey, girl! I haven't seen Chris today, but I know Sara's in. Though you might not get through, there are some new big wigs starting today, nepa-tee-asam at work. Yeah, I'll transfer you. Bye!” Spike waited with growing impatience as the girl scanned through the list at her side, transferred the call, and made some sort of notation on her computer. When she was done, she finally deigned to look at him. She seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “How can I help you?”
Spike leaned over and graced her with his laziest smirk.
“Nepotism.” Her brow furrowed and she frowned.
“I'm sorry?”
“The word you were looking for? Nepotism. You said nepa-tee-asam.”
“Um, OK, whatever. What do you want?” the receptionist asked crossly. Will made an impatient noise in the back of his throat.
“Well, we'd be the nepotistic big wigs starting today.” Spike grinned as the receptionist's life flashed before her eye. He felt Will shaking with silent laughter behind him. “Care to tell us where we're goin', pet?”
“Y-yes sir. Of course. The, uh, corporate boardroom is up one floor. Your fa...boss is there with all of the execs. Is there...um...is there anything else I can do for you, sir? Sirs?” Spike glanced down at the name tag on the desk.
“Not at all, Kennedy. You've already done quite enough. Ta, pet.”
***
Will and Spike settled in to the Lira family with ease and aplomb. Well, ease and aplomb on Spike's part. Will tended to hole himself up in his office and read manuscripts all day. Spike had to drag his resisting brother out of his office every once in a while to prove that, yes, he did exist. Most the people working for Lyra thought Will was an office urban legend.
So it was a shock to Spike, the marketing department, and the hapless artists who were present at a their quarterly meeting, when Will burst in like a whirling dervish.
“The people who work here are idiots, utter fools who wouldn't know a decent work of literature if the Complete Works of Shakespeare beaned 'em in the head!” Will snarled, grabbing Spike's arm. He hauled his bemused brother out of his chair towards the door, shocked faces looking on. Halfway down the hall, Will paused, let go of Spike's arm, and ran back to the room. “Sorry about that, need him, carry on, don't destroy the company.” Everyone jumped when the door slammed shut behind him.
The various employees of Lyra Publishing glanced at one another in the sudden silence.
“I thought he was a mute?” one of the junior execs offered weakly.
***
“Will?” Spike asked, trying to make sense of his brother's nattering. Not that he minded being manhandled out of his office by Will—or really manhandled in any way by Will—but it would be nice to know why there were, apparently, making their way to Da's office before they actually got there. Will didn't give him a chance.
Rupert Giles was about to imbibe in a completely deserved, wholly necessary scotch when his door burst open and he spilled his drink down his front.
“Bugger.” Giles extracted his pocket handkerchief and dabbed at the dark stains on his shirt, and Spike deftly relieved Giles of what was left of his drink and propped himself by his Da's desk to watch the fireworks. He took a sip of the scotch—the good stuff that Da saved for his best hiding places.
“Careful there, Rupes,” his son said with a smirk. Giles shot him a withering stare that got colder when he saw Spike drinking his $200 scotch.
“Yes, well, far be it for me not to expect a herd of savages to barge in unannounced.” Will blushed in consternation, but Spike just shook his head.
“Da. We hardly qualify as a HERD.”
“You'd be surprised, James.” It was Giles' turn to smirk as his son's eyes narrowed into a glare. No matter how many times they had this fight, Rupert Giles would NEVER call one of his sons...Spike. Though if he'd known how much trouble James was going to be, he would have named him Randy. “So to what do I owe this...pleasure?”
Spike turned to look at Will, since he was as in the dark as his Da. Will suddenly found himself at the center of his family's attention.
“Ah, w-well, yes, I was just...reading...and, ah--”
“Will thinks you've hired a bunch of idiots,” Spike volunteered helpfully.
“Ponce,” Will growled, inventing creative ways to get back at Spike. Wipe that smirk off that's for sure. Spike's grin deepened and his eyes challenged Will to do his worst.
“I hired you,” Giles pointed out smugly.
“Er, right, but *I* can tell the difference between shite and brilliance. Your readers...cannot.” Will tossed a manuscript at Giles' chest, which the older man barely caught.
“I don't suppose I could have the Cliff's Notes version?” Giles asked wearily. He was holding a thick tome of at least 400 pages. Will made a strangled, impatient sound.
“This work is...brilliant. Revolutionary. It absorbs and subverts the major symbols of Western culture. The themes, the story, the message...this is master storytelling. And your readers, whose only job is to read manuscripts and pick out the good ones, wanted to PASS.” Will looked truly affronted. Giles glanced at Spike, who shrugged and motioned for the manuscript. Giles handed it over without protest.
“So, you think--”
“We need to sign the writer immediately. Yesterday. We need to find the contact info for this--” Spike blinked as the manuscript was ripped out of his hands--“Jasmine”--the thick sheaf of paper was dropped back into place--“and sign her. NOW.”
“Uh...”
“Da! Bloody hell! This book is gonna be HUGE. It's going to sell millions of copies in hardback alone, you cannot let this pass us--”
“Will!” Will ground to a halt, chest heaving, eyes bright, and Spike thought he'd never looked hotter. “You can sign her.”
“...What?”
“I didn't hire you because you're my sons. I hired you because you're both damned good at what you do and you understand the literary world. Even you,” he said pointedly, fixing James with a look, “who did NOT pop out of your dear mother's womb with a head full of shock white hair and that horrendous accent.” Spike cheekily stuck his tongue out at his father.
“Oh. Right. Er. Thanks?” Will ventured. Giles rolled his eyes and started herding the savages towards the door.
“You're welcome, good, yes, right, I'll see you for dinner tomorrow good bye.” When the door to his office closed, Giles let out a huge sign of relief. About that scotch...
***
“Stop. Fidgeting.” Spike growled.
“I'm not fidgeting,” Will whispered back. Spike cocked one eyebrow and looked pointedly at the tie Will was continuously smoothing. His brother blushed and shoved his hands under the table. Spike used the table cloth as cover, putting his hand on Will's knee and squeezing it reassuringly.
“You'll be fine, luv, just to remember to breathe. Bint's gonna sign us, no worries,” Spike soothed; he slipped his hand underneath Will's suit and rubbed his brother's lower back. Will shot his brother a disbelieving look.
“Are you insane? Her work...she could sign anyone! Any publisher at all!”
“Shut it! No one else has picked up on her yet, she's still unknown, and as long as we don't undermine our bargaining position we'll be fine.” Will blinked. “What?”
“You sounded almost smart just then.”
“Ponce,” Spike growled, squeezing the pressure points in Will's leg. Will jumped, banging his knee on the underside of the table, and let out an unmanly yelp.
“Are you...Lira?” Will blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. Spike slouched in his seat and grinned lazily at the attractive black woman hovering over their table. Will elbowed him and stood, extending his hand.
“I'm Will Giles, this is my brother Spike. You must be Jasmine.” Jasmine looked down at the hand and hesitated. Her handshake was reticent and perfunctory, and when she was done her quiet personal assistant was there with a wipe.
“Spike?” she queried, her gaze assessing the still-seated man.
“Ta, pet,” Spike said with a sardonic smirk and a half-assed salute with his drink. Will stifled the flair of irritation (and bit of jealousy) that coursed through him. How Spike could be so...Spike and get away with it? Spike shifted his attention to the woman hovering at Jasmine's side. “And you are?” Spike asked, finally deigning to stand. He gathered the assistant's hand and laid a delicate kiss on the back. She blushed prettily and ducked her head.
“T-t-tara. I-I'm Tara.”
“Well, I'm Tara, shall we be seated?” Spike pulled out her chair and ushered her into it. Will did the same for Jasmine, his stomach in his throat. This was their first client, who they discovered and—hopefully after tonight—signed. First chance to prove to the publishing world that they were more than just daddy's sons, but executives in their own right.
The dinner was...amazingly productive. Spike managed to coax Tara out of her shell and get the gentle woman talking. She was more than just Jasmine's assistant; they were dating, going on three years. She had a stutter whenever she got nervous, but Spike was suave and managed to keep most of the chatter light. By the end of the night, they had a three-book agreement signed and ready to file with their lawyers.
***
They'd barely crossed the threshold before Spike pounced on Will. Will was pressed against the wall, smiling widely at Spike's scattered assault. His hands were everywhere, his mouth attacking any naked flesh he could get to. Somehow, Spike got coordinated enough to strip most of Will's clothes off.
“Y'could help,” Spike grumbled as he pushed and pulled Will into an appropriate panting position.
“But you're doing so well on your own.” Spike glared at his lover, pulling the dress slacks down without care. “Oi! These are expensive!” Spike smirked. He could make Will forget his concern with his expensive trousers.
Will forgot how to breath. Spike's mouth was suctioned around his cock, the wet warmth exquisite torture...and no one was as experienced in torturing him as Spike. Will scrambled for something, anything, that might ground him, keep him from flying off in a million different directions. The smooth drywall didn't give him anything to hold on to, and all he could feel was Spike's mouth, the rough buds on his lover's tongue, the slick wetness of saliva. God, he was intoxicating.
Spike worked Will, pulled out all the stops and used all his tricks. He wanted Will panting and begging for it, pants be damned. He pulled back and concentrated on the head, tracing its contours and playing along the seams. He hummed a little tune, power rushing through him when Will whimpered and smacked his head against the wall. He was moments away from coming when Spike pulled off and pinched the base of Will's dick.
“Not yet Willy m'boy!” Spike said gleefully. Will hit his head against the wall a couple of times, trying to talk himself down. He tried to form some kind of coherent thought between sharp gasps of air.
“You're...a...*nurgh* ponce!”
Spike laughed evilly and stood up. He licked the shell of Will's ear and whispered, “You won't be saying that when you find out what I've got planned!”
***
Jasmine's book hit the Bestseller list a week after its release. People were raving about it; there was even talk of Pulitzer prizes and Nobel consideration. Will and Spike were the toast of the town, and all eyes were on Lira's newest Twin Executives of Terror. Things had gotten so crazy they'd had to hire a personal assistant, something they'd both balked at and refused to do when they were just starting. However, the deluge of phone calls and social invitations had become overwhelming, and they couldn't keep tying up the executive secretary.
Which was how they met Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. She was a divorced Swedish-American (who held dual citizenship with Sweden and the US), a keen business sense (which helped her filter out the frauds), and an amusingly blunt manner of speech. THAT particular 'gift' kept all but the most serious vultures away. She was perfect.
Plus, Spike got to watch Will blush on a regular basis. It had lead to more than one office fantasy on Spike's part. He was startled out of his current daydream when Anya dropped a stack of manuscripts on his desk.
“Read them, make money,” she instructed.
“Yes, thank you Anya, I was wondering what they pay me to do.” She just looked at him, completely missing the sarcasm.
“I could write it on a piece of paper for you if you forget.” Spike narrowed his eyes. There were times when he was pretty sure Anya was fucking with him, but he was never *quite* sure.
“I'll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. Anya handed him a piece of paper and turned to leave. “Wait wait wait, what the bloody hell is this?!”
“The Jasmine premiere party. It's tonight at 9:30. The company rented out SkyBar.” Spike paled.
“Shit.” Anya looked on with her slightly-curious expression. “Pet, I need you to save m'life. And Will's. We need two tuxes, you have our sizes, a car and driver to get us there. I'll need a fairly expensive gift for Jasmine, somethin' feminine and from Rodeo drive. Get Tara something too, I like her. I need to know if Da's going, an updated guest list, and a flask of Jack. Oh, and tell Will?”
Anya didn't move. They stared at one another for a long moment.
“Wot?”
“I want a raise.” Spike's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.
“You've been here for three months!” Anya crossed her arms and got that look that meant she was dealing with money and therefore deadly serious. And honestly, she was a far better assistant than either he or his brother had ever imagined. “Fine. Ten percent.”
“Twenty-three point six percent,” she countered.
“What? How do you figure?”
“I'm planning a trip to Hawaii. At a twenty-three point six percent raise, I can take a full two weeks off in four months, which is when my vacations days officially start. Therefore, I can fund my travels without straining my living budget and get paid to sit on a beach where there are no rabbits. I am also worth well more than the extra cost, but I predict it will take another two months and one week to prove that to you, so in the interim...twenty-three point six.” Spike grinned in spite of himself.
“Ta, pet.” Anya beamed. “Now, if you could--”
“I had your tuxedos delivered to your house, they're hanging in the foyer, please don't mess them up BEFORE the party; I've been told that it is more appropriate to play after such events, and that alcohol makes the process much more fun if sloppier. Howard will be outside of your house at eight forty-five sharp. There are two packages sitting on my desk from Gucci, gift tags attached, in each women's respective sizes, I got a very good deal on them. Your father plans to spend exactly one hour and fifteen minutes at the party before escaping the 'ungodly charade of the rich and tasteless, bugger American New Money.' Check your e-mail, and I stashed a handle in your bottom left drawer.” She swept out of the room.
“Twenty-three point six,” Spike muttered, shaking his head. He was pretty sure it wouldn't take Anya that long to get her next raise. “Wait...play?”
***
“Cor, pet,” Spike breathed. Will ducked his head, looking up coyly from beneath his lashes.
“Like it?” Spike reached out and fingered the expensive material. Will was wearing an Armani tux, perfectly tailored. His platinum hair was slicked back, but there was one ringlet that refused to stay tucked in framing the corner of Will's left eye.
“Wish we had time to show you how much,” Spike said silkily, curling his tongue behind his teeth. Will's blue eyes turned dark and possessive, and he stepped into Spike's space.
“Don't look so bad y'self,” Will said thickly. The air between them was thick and getting thicker.
“We gotta go,” Spike said breathily.
“Uh huh.” Will refused to let him go, his gaze commanding Spike's acquiescence. Spike could only watch as Will pushed him against the wall, his hands stroking Spike's Alexander McQueen tux. Will ducked down, his lips millimeters from Spike's, when someone started pounding on their door.
“Gotta go!” Spike squeaked, eyes still firmly affixed to Will's lips.
“Bugger,” Will groaned. Spike ducked in for a quick, lips-only kiss before darting away. He grabbed the presents and opened the door to find Howard the chauffeur on the other side. Will wore a stony, slightly pained expression the entire trip to SkyBar.
When they got there, reporters and photographers were snapping pictures of the rich and famous. Right before their limo slid into the red carpet line, Spike leaned over and said, “If you're very, very good, I'll blow you when we get home.” Will stumbled out of the limo, leading to some gossip-rag speculation as to whether or not one of the Giles-twins had a drinking problem
***
Will was ready to go the second they got inside. He hated these things, and all he wanted to do was get home and get to know Spike's tux very, very intimately. He huffed and threw back his Jack in one gulp, savoring the burn of the alcohol. It was something real against the background of fake smiles and perfectly crafted faces.
“Wow, that's impressive,” an amused voice said. Will whipped around and found himself facing a short, young-looking woman with light eyes and a pretty smile. He flushed a bit and glanced self consciously at his empty glass. The woman giggled and lifted her full champagne flute in mock salute before throwing her head back and draining it. A bit spilled out of the corner of her mouth, and they laughed as she tried to avoid getting any on her dress.
“Now THAT is impressive, pet. I'm Will.” The woman, she couldn't be much out of her mid-20s, took his hand in a firm grip.
“Eve.” Her smile was open and fresh, and it didn't look like a surgeon's scalpel had ever touched her flesh. It was refreshing.
“So, Eve. What is it that you do?” She blushed demurely and Will was taken with her candidness.
“It's going to sound silly, but I'm doing the whole LA actress thing. I mean, I'm from Wyoming, and I did the whole get a job after college thing for a while but...I figured, I'm young, why not give it a shot? So...here I am.” She peeked up though her lashes as if to gauge Will's reaction. He snagged them two flutes of champagne. He proffered the glass with a bow and then raised his to a toast.
“Well pet, that's an admirable vocation, chasin' your dreams. To your dreams.”
“To my dreams.” They clinked their glasses and downed them in one go, giggling like schoolchildren afterwards.
Will made it his personal crusade to shepherd Eve around. He introduced her to everyone, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm when she started getting a little glassy-eyed with all the glitz and glamour and celebrity. She was cute and charming, and the photographers couldn't seem to get enough pictures of the two of them. All in all, Will was quite impressed with the way Eve handled herself.
“Who do you keep looking for?” she asked, when they'd snuck into a secluded corner to escape for a little while.
“M'brother. Spike. He's probably pissed that I haven't found him.” Will flashed a brilliant smile at her. “You'll like him.” Eve smiled back and took a sip of her drink as she scanned the crowd of faces, acutely aware of the man beside her. She spied the mirroring shock of white-blond hair off to the left and subtly maneuvered Will in the opposite direction. She wanted a little more time with Mr. William Giles before she had to share him with anyone.
Just as Will turned towards his left, Eve swayed unsteadily on her feet. Will was there in an instant, arm on her elbow, watching her with concern in his eyes.
“Are you alright pet?” Eve smiled weakly at him and fanned herself.
“I think so. Must be the heat, it's sweltering in here. Is there a balcony or something?”
“Of course, luv, follow me.”
They climbed up a winding staircase to a secluded outdoor bar area. It was a much more quite and intimate setting, small knots of people talking low amongst themselves. Perfect. Eve chose a small love seat to encourage closeness. They couldn't help brushing against one another as they talked.
Ever regaled Will with tales of her childhood on a small farm. Her family had money, not a lot but enough to live comfortably on and keep a few horses. Will reminisced about his childhood in England, riding horses with the various Noble children of London and the surrounding areas. Eve was well versed in various poets, and they had a heated—albeit friendly—argument about the merits of Chaucer, Kertzer's study of modern poetry, and the themes of Eliot's The Hollow Men. Eve was well read and well reasoned, though her discourse lacked a certain amount of academic depth. While they talked, hours slipped away.
***
Spike was Not Pleased. Capital letters. He and Will had split up to try and divide and conquer the party—most people couldn't tell them apart and there were the refreshing few who didn't realize they were identical twins—but Will had never found him again, and he couldn't find Will for the life of him. He'd done his pleasantries with Jasmine, who was a brilliant writer but kind of creepy, and started circulating but still...no Will. It seemed like his brother had deserted him, but Will wouldn't do that. Plus, they'd shared a car.
It also didn't help that giggling sycophants kept trying to corner him and gush about the color of paper or some equivalent nonsense. All they wanted was a roll in the hay and some of his family's money. That's all these type of people wanted. So Spike snagged a befuddled-looking Tara and sat them down in the furthest booth he could find. Tara looked so grateful he had to smile.
“Looking a bit piqued there, pet.” His words only slurred a little. Tara blushed and ducked her head.
“I'm n-not good a-a-at these things.”
“Psssstttt.” Spike waved his hand to encompass the whole room. “Only pe'ple good at these things's people lookin' fer money. Any way they c'n get it.” Tara looked a little shocked at his cynical view of her girlfriend's premiere party. Spike shot her a wry smile and drank the shot of Jack in front of him.
“Sorry, pet. 'm blunt when 'm drunk.” She giggled a little and boldly drained the rest of her vodka-cranberry. They laughed, Spike toasting her with his own mix drink. “Ta to tha' luv.”
Tara was hiccuping, and Spike was pretty sure she was the most adorable drunk he'd ever met. She treated every drink like it was a naughty prize she was hiding from her teachers. Spike couldn't remember when he'd been that...well, whatever Tara was at the moment; his words were kind of escaping him. He propped his head on his hand and gazed at his friend.
“What?” she asked, sipping her sugary cocktail.
“Nothin. 'S just...why're you with her?” Tara flushed and looked down, her demeanor closing down.
“We...I mean...I love her.” Spike wasn't convinced. He'd seen people in love, been in love himself; this wasn't love.
“Love or loved, pet?” Tara blushed furiously, and Spike felt like an ass for making her feel bad. “Least you know where your date is, though. Mine left me out t'dry.”
“Y-you had a date?” Tara asked in surprise. Spike caught his mistake and tried to backpedal.
“I mean, you know, not like, that, was just Will and he...we're...it's just a...bugger.” His head hit the table with a dull thump. Tara's giggle floated to him, so at least he'd made her laugh. “Just pretend that I didn't speak.”
“To waste the spoken word is the work of an unstructured mind.” Spike bolted upright, just barely keeping the scowl off his face. The more he got to know Jasmine, the more she rubbed him the wrong way. Her eyes burned with something more than life, and she was fast entering cultish territory if he was reading her rhetoric correctly. But he liked Tara. She was an amazing human being with a huge heart and Jasmine treated her more like a minion than her girlfriend of many years. But Jasmine was a brilliant writer, no way around it.
“Fair enough,” Spike agreed with false cheer.
“Thank you for the party, Mr. Giles. It was lovely. I enjoyed meeting so many people. It's good to know my Word is being read. But it's time for me to retire. Good night.”
“Jasmine. Tara.” The two women left, Tara shooting him one last friendly wave. The crowd had thinned considerably, and Spike was pretty sure he could see real light coming in from the front of the club. He was seriously considering taking the car and letting Will do...whatever when he heard a very familiar laugh.
Spike spun around in time to see his brother walk out of the back rooms with a woman hanging off his arm. They were laughing like old chums, their body language intimate and close. Anger flooded through Spike. Will had blown him off to talk with some gold digging wanna-be actress type. Spike chugged the rest of his drink and slammed it on the table. He was ready to get out of her. He stalked towards the pair, ignoring the pleased smile Will shot him.
“Spike, hey, I—“ Spike grabbed Will and started hauling him towards the door. “Spike! What are you doing?” Will wrenched his arm away, pissed and embarrassed by his brother's actions, especially in front of Eve.
“I'm ready to go. I've been ready to go, but YOU were no where to be found. The. Whole. NIGHT.” Will looked at his watch in surprise. He'd been talking to Eve for hours.
“Sorry, I lost track of time—”
“For seven hours?!” Will blushed but refused to be cowed by Spike.
“I'm sorry for forgetting, but Eve wasn't feeling well so we went outside. It wasn't intentional, you're drunk and we're not having this conversation now.” Spike's gaze flicked to the woman in question. His eyes travelled the length of her body, blatantly assessing her and finding her wanting. When he got to her eyes, he scowled. She was assessing him as frankly as he had assessed her, and her eyes spoke volumes. They were cold and calculating, but as soon as Will glanced her way, they were warm and inviting. Spike snorted at how she was trying to play his brother, who wouldn't fall for such an absurd act.
“Fine, whatever, I'll have Howard pull the car around.” He strode off, one ear attuned to the couple behind him. Luckily, Howard was an efficient man and had the car ready in five minutes. Spike had never been more grateful to see a sleek black limo to save his life. He climbed halfway in before he realized Will wasn't following him. He turned around questioningly, waiting not-so-patiently.
“Are you good to get home?” Will asked Eve with concern. Her eyes flicked deliberately to the steaming Spike.
“Yeah, I'll just grab a cab, it's fine.”
“No, please, let us give you a ride home.” Eve smiled and let her gaze slide to Spike again, who looked thunderous.
“I...that's really OK. I wouldn't want to put you...or your brother...through any inconvenience. I can get home, it's not a big deal—“
“Will!” Will turned and glared at Spike before turning back to Eve.
“It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone.”
“But I can't—“
“What if I ride with you? To your place?”
“But Spi—“
“Spike can go on in the car, I have cash on me, it'll be fine. Yeah?” Eve smiled timorously at him.
“I'd...I'd like that. Thank you.”
“No problem, pet. Give me a mo.” Will jogged over to the limo, frowning at his obviously agitated brother. “Hey.”
“Can we go?” Will sighed deeply; sometimes Spike could be a huge pain in the ass.
“Look, I'm going to ride with Eve to her place, just to make sure she's—“
“Oh LOVELY. Are you serious?” Will sighed; he could feel the fight brewing in his bones, and he really didn't want to ruin what had, to this point, been a pretty good evening.
“Look, she lives alone and I wouldn't feel right—”
“Whatever,” Spike growled, throwing himself in the car. “I'll see you in the morning.” He closed the door on Will's “I'm coming home!” and ordered Howard to get them the hell out of there.
Will watched the limo pull away with growing anger. Spike was being ridiculous and petty and childish and any other number of words and Will REALLY didn't feel like dealing with him tonight. He turned to find Eve waiting for him by a taxi looking unsure. He smiled soothingly and climbed in with her.
“Sorry about that, he can be...difficult when he's drunk.” Eve grinned.
“Yeah, I get that. Two older brothers.”
The rest of the ride was made in friendly silence, and when the cab pulled up to her apartment building, Eve invited Will up.
“Oh, I don't...um...”
“Oh! Oh no! I just thought, with the fight and the drunkenness...in my spare room! Not with, um...” She ducked her head and blushed. Will thought about it. If he went home in the morning, Spike would be sober and Will would be calmer.
“Yeah, that could work.”
***
Spike went to bed pissed and woke up angry. Will hadn't come home. Will had gone off with that, that...trollop and apparently... Spike turned over and yelled into his pillow, letting all the frustration of last night leech out of him. Fine. Will would come home, they'd talk about it, and hopefully this Eve character would be over and done with.
But Will didn't come back.
Spike puttered around the house, made brunch, watched some TV, even read a manuscript. The sun started setting and Will was still out and about with...he couldn't even think the bint's name anymore. Had she really managed to snow his brother? The calm, centered one of them? Spike growled and slammed his dishes down a little more forcefully than he needed to.
Will didn't get in until pushing five o'clock, and Spike had worked himself into a right snit.
“Spike?” He kept his silence, wiping down the countertop, trying to control the irrational surge of anger he felt. “Spike, are you here?” He sighed and resigned himself to talking to Will when the cadence of a feminine voice floated to him and set his teeth on edge. He wouldn't.
Will and Eve were standing in the living room, smiling at each other like lovesick fools. Spike glared at the happy picture of gold diggery.
“Spike! There you are! I—” Spike pushed past Will and headed towards the bedroom. HIS bedroom, not...the other one. “Spike! Spike! What are you—“ Will grabbed his brother and spun him around. “What's your problem?”
“My problem? My problem is you ditched me last night to hang with a gold digging bint and t'add insult to injury, she's IN MY LIVING ROOM.” Spike stepped up to Will, his blue eyes blazing. “Get. Her. Out.” Will snorted and folded his arms.
“You can stop being jealous, nothing happened, and even if it did we have an agreement—“
“I'm not jealous you wanker. I'm pissed that you DITCHED ME at the party last night! I'm pissed that you're apparently thinking with your cock when it comes to that twat trap, who's gonna fuck you stupid and leave with all yer money.” Will growled and slammed Spike up against the wall.
“Don't talk about her like that.” Spike shoved back, sending Will stumbling several steps away.
“Just callin' it like I see it,” Spike said with an angry, antagonistic smirk. It was guaranteed to piss Will the fuck off, and it worked like a charm. “'snot my fault you're blinded by a little bit of T'n'A.”
“I want you out of here, Spike,” Will growled, sweeping his arms out in a grand gesture that encompassed their shared room, though they told everyone it was Will's. He saw the flash of hurt that passed through Spike's eyes, but it was soon replaced by intense anger.
“There is nothing you could say to me that would make me want to stay.” Will glared at his brother and stepped forward to give Spike a piece of his mind, but Spike was ready for him. They wrestled with each other, each man trying to get the upper hand. Their anger didn't dissipate with the physical combat, it grew with every angry touch. Eventually, they wore themselves out, and Will pulled away panting heavily. Spike reached out to grab Will's hand, something in him crying out not to let Will leave this way, when he found himself on the ground, dazed and in pain. He opened tear-filled eyes, focusing blearily on the figure standing over him. He felt his heart break a little when Will shot him a disgusted look and stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.
***
“Are you OK?” Eve shot a look at her silent companion. She'd snuck back and overheard the fight between the brothers, heard Will's ultimatum and the dull sound of fists on flesh. Inside, she was positively gleeful; the brother's closeness had been her biggest hurdle, one she seemed to have jumped without even trying. Will was already eating out of her hand, and halfway in her pocket already; she'd have to be stupid or an amateur to mess this up now, and she was neither.
“Fine.” Will's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles showing.
“I...I'm sorry for causing you trouble,” she said in a small voice, trying to sound and sincere as she could, drawing in on herself. A warm hand settled on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles.
“It's not your fault, luv. We're...it's complicated.” Eve shot him a watery smile. “How about some dinner?” Will offered with cheer he didn't feel. Luckily, Eve didn't seem inclined to call him on it, and that in-and-of itself proved to him that Spike was just acting out of jealousy.
***
Will returned to a silent, oppressive apartment. He and Eve had spent a lovely time together. They'd had lunch at Will's favorite Indian place before migrating to Santa Monica. They spent the day wandering around the Santa Monica pier, then walked down to the Venice Beach Pier a few miles away when they got bored. It was a lovely walk with the sun setting in the background, and when they were done they impulsively stopped in for a movie, the mindless comedy lifting Will's spirits somewhat. Will found Eve easy company, their conversation flowing effortlessly. He'd invited Eve to dinner and realized half way through that they were on a date. And he kind of liked it.
The somber mood in the apartment chased away his improved mood.
A quick survey of his room proved that Spike had done exactly what Will had asked; he'd moved out. To the other room a few paces away, but...it felt like farther. They'd been sharing a room since birth, and while they occasionally maintained separate spaces when one or the both of them had a 'special someone,' it never lasted long. Somewhere along the way they'd both come to believe that they'd eventually end up with someone who wanted both of them. Together.
Will sighed and sunk down on the bed. They'd had fights before. Bad fights. Fights where Spike disappeared for weeks at a time, but always came back so they could fight some more and then get over it. But this...this felt different. It felt...final. Irreparable. And for the first time, Will had no idea how to make this right. Spike's vicious attack of Eve was unfounded and harsh, but Will should have handled the situation better and he definitely shouldn't have hit Spike. But he knew his brother, and he knew himself; neither of them were going to step up and apologize. Not for a long time, and not without a clear indication of who was in the wrong.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Jenn and Gemmi999 for the beta. (And blame Gemmi for the third section, it's all her fault!)