aka The Great Drag Queen Adventure
"This is all your fault," Spike grumbled, trying to stay on his feet and walk fast at the same time without tipping over.
Next to him, Angel stumbled and shot out a hand to steady himself, growling when Spike knocked it off his shoulder. "In what world is this my fault?" Angel asked.
"In the world where Wesley works for you and you agree to follow through with his clearly insane ideas!" Spike threw back, walking ahead, the click-click from the heels of his knee-high boots echoing off the alley walls. He yanked on the bottom of his halter-top and grumbled, "Bloody top keeps riding up my chest, too. Remind me to thank Percy and his spell for not giving me large enough breasts to keep it on properly with."
Angel snorted. "At least you're not so stacked you can't see your own feet without bending over."
Spike glanced over at Angel as the older vampire teetered precariously on his heels. Licking his lips at the swell of Angel's breasts spilling over the top of his hot pink bustier, Spike commented, "Yeah, but they're a bloody treat to look at. Make a good looking bird, you do."
Angel stopped dead in his tracks and glared. "You are not ogling my chest."
Spike stopped also, then backed up several steps so that Angel was ahead of him. Smirking, Spike said, "Right. Not ogling your chest at all. 'M ogling your firm little backside in that leather skirt, now." Spike paused and cocked his head to the side, brushing his spell-conjured long blond hair off one shoulder as he looked Angel up and down, considering. "In fact, I'd have to say of the two of us, you got the better deal here. Care to guess why that might be?"
Angel scowled and started for the end of the alley again. "I have no idea what you're talking about, as usual."
Spike snickered and started after him…or her, if he wanted to be politically correct, or even just if he wanted to piss Angel off more. "Sure you don't. Vampire senses, ponce. Know you can smell his interest, same as me."
Angel sighed and glanced back at Spike, slowing so Spike could catch up in his heels. "Can we not do this right now?"
Spike shrugged. "No skin off my nose. Just saying—"
"Don't just say," Angel interrupted, voice deadly serious.
Spike capitulated, knowing when to back off. "Fine. Lips are zipped. Happy?"
"Immensely."
"Ooh, big word, that."
"Shut up, Spike."
Before Spike could reply, they were at the end of the alley. They both turned to face a nondescript door, standing side by side.
Glancing over at Angel, who glanced back at him, Spike asked, "Ready to do this?"
"As I'll ever be," Angel grumbled, one hand shoved in his magically endowed cleavage.
Spike watched, amused, as Angel pulled up on his bustier, wiggling a little as he tried in vain to get the thing to cover more flesh. Giving up with a huff of irritation, Angel flipped one end of the feathery pink boa around his neck over a shoulder.
Spike shifted, amusement dropping away in light of just how uncomfortable his own kit was. He tugged down on his leather hot pants, cursing them under his breath as they rode right back up his arse and squeezed his cock and balls, which he'd refused to tape to his body no matter that they were clearly outlined through the skin tight material. Mumbling about insane ex-watchers and poncy vampire bosses who enabled them, Spike transferred his grooming bag from the shoulder between him and Angel to the other.
Angel knocked on the door and they waited as a demon looked through a little peephole before opening the door.
Angel cleared his throat and said in an effeminate voice, "Angela and Sissy." Angel paused, grunting as Spike's elbow discreetly slammed into his side, then continued in a somewhat strained voice, "here by appointment."
The horned demon nodded stiffly then turned and walked away, obviously expecting them to follow. Spike turned his head and glared at Angel, hissing, "Sissy?"
Angel's glossy red lips twitched, obviously trying to keep from smirking. "It was the first thing that came to mind."
"I'll get you back for that, ponce," Spike promised before stepping inside the building to follow the demon.
Several twists and turns down hall after hall and room after room later, they stood in the heart of the building, facing a large grey blob of a demon with no neck who was holding a scraggly looking shitzu in his fat hands, petting it lovingly as he explained to them what had happened to it.
"So, as you can see," the demon, Bletzer, said, "Pipsy played around in some mud puddles after the last storm." Bletzer paused to glare at the demon who had let Angel and Spike in and the demon hung his head, looking truly remorseful, which just added to the surreal-ness of the evening for Spike. Bletzer continued and Spike blinked, frowning through his longer than normal eyelashes. "She's all muddy and matted now and needs a good cleaning and grooming. I heard the two of you were the best in the business."
Angel nodded, face schooled in an expression of grave seriousness. "You were right to call us. Pipsy needs immediate attention if we're going to save her beautiful coat."
Bletzer smiled at that, the sides of his head actually moving and scrunching as the corners of his huge mouth curved up. "I'm happy to hear it. Also, there seems to be a clump of…something stuck to one of her hind legs. It smells…foul."
Spike smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry about a thing, luv. Angela here specializes in removing smelly clumps."
Spike could feel the anger suddenly pouring off Angel and looked over at him, smile broadening.
Apparently satisfied that they'd take good care of Pipsy, Bletzer handed the small dog over to Angel and said, "Clod will show you to the washroom. You can groom her there."
Clod, the horned demon who had let them in, nodded his head and led them away.
As they followed, Angel hissed under his breath, "Why, exactly, am I the smelly clump expert?"
Spike chuckled and replied equally as softly, "Because payback's a bitch, Angela."
Fifteen minutes later, Spike and Angel were drenched clean through their kits, but the dog was clean and smelly clump free and had a monitoring device magically implanted just inside her ear, out of sight and in a spot where it wouldn't irritate.
Stepping back, Spike looked down at his ruined leather hot pants and halter-top and asked petulantly, "Tell me again why we were the ones that had to do this?"
Angel sighed, poking and primping Pipsy the way Spike suspected he poked and primped his own poufy hair on a daily basis—minus the hot pink manicured nails, that is. "Because we were in a time crunch since the deal's going down tonight, and we have next to no intel on it. Wesley had to do the spell, so he couldn't, and Gunn was needed in a meeting, so he couldn't, and…you know, I honestly have no idea."
Spike shot Angel a sidelong look. "Admit it, Angel, we were had. Any number of others could have done this just as easily. Wesley just wanted to play dress up with you, is all."
Angel looked over at Spike's crotch and said pointedly, "I wasn't the only one he wanted to play dress up with. Those hot pants don't leave much to the imagination."
Spike leered. "Checking out my package, are you?"
Angel's hands seemed to pause as they primped, but only for a second before he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I think we're done here. Let's get the dog back to Bletzer and get the hell out of here."
"For once, an idea of yours that doesn't suck."
"Shut up, Sissy," Angel shot back as he scooped up the dog and headed for the door.
Spike growled as he followed him out of the room.
An hour later, they were tucked away in Angel's office, both still in full gay drag-queen hell as Wesley tried yet another spell to change them back. Angel sat at his desk, arms crossed over his ample chest—or rather, under, pushing said ample chest up and out even further—glowering at Wesley while Spike paced back and forth in front of the desk, pretending he didn't notice Wesley sneak peeks at his leather-encased groin every time Spike walked by.
"What the bleedin' hell is the matter, Percy?"
Wesley cleared his throat and looked away from Spike's hot pants, frowning at the book in his hands. "I'm not sure, actually. It's a simple spell. You should both be yourselves again by now."
Suddenly, the doors to Angel's office burst open and Gunn strode in, head ducked over an open file in his hands. "Hey, boss, the head of the Flackoff clan is here to…holy shit!" Gunn exclaimed as he finally looked up, stopping dead in his tracks. "Why are the two of you still dressed like that?"
Glaring at Wesley, Spike said to Gunn, "Because someone can't seem to figure out how to break the soddin' spell."
Gunn blinked at them, then said, "We've got a problem then, because the head of the Flackoff clan is here to see you, Angel, and keeping him waiting is tantamount to declaring a full scale war."
Angel stood and started to pace behind his desk. "What am I supposed to do? I can't see him looking like—" Angel paused to wave a pink manicured hand at himself, before finishing, "—this!"
Gunn hesitated, then said, "Um, actually, you can. See, Flackoff demons find human transvestites highly desirable. And true, you aren't human, but you look human and that's what matters here. In fact, it might even help the negotiations."
Spike burst out laughing. "Go on with you then, Angel. Prance yourself around the board room and distract the horny demon into signing whatever contract Charlie needs signing. Can't wait to hear how this goes."
Angel glowered at Spike, then circled around the side of his desk at vampire speed in spite of his high heels and grabbed Spike's upper arm.
"Oi!"
Starting for the door, Angel dragged Spike with him, saying between clenched teeth, "If I have to be humiliated, then so do you, Sissy."
"If you don't quit calling me that, I'll—"
"What? Humiliate me? Sorry, been there, done that. Bought the postcards. Now come on."
Spike covered his smirk with a pout as he stumbled after Angel, arm squeezed in Angel's tight grip.
They stepped into the boardroom the Flackoff demon was waiting in a minute later, and immediately the demon, who Gunn introduced to them as Fleck, started stumbling all over himself and blushing—if the sudden green hue to his normally yellow skin was anything to go by. Fleck held out a seat first for Angel, who took it with an uncomfortable thank you, and then Spike, who shook his head and plopped himself down in Angel's lap, ignoring Angel's 'oof' of surprise.
Spike crossed his legs and leaned against Angel's curvy chest, wrapping his arms around Angel's neck as he said, "I'm fine right here, pet, ta anyway."
Angel discreetly tried to shove Spike off his lap, but Spike only wiggled closer, feeling the evidence of his effect on Angel under one hot pants-clad butt cheek.
Smiling sweetly, Spike said in his best falsetto voice, "So, ready to get this meeting underway then?"
Not even Angel jabbing him in the small of his back with his knuckles could wipe the self-satisfied grin off Spike's face right then.
After the meeting, at which the Flackoff demon had agreed to all Gunn's terms while staring lustily at both Angel and Spike, Angel marched Spike back to his office and shut the door before rounding on the blond, looking as if he wanted to murder Spike. Fortunately for Spike, Wesley opened the door and walked in before Angel could get his hands on him.
"I've discovered the problem. The root I was using was somewhat stale, apparently. I had instructed Harmony to get me a fresh one, but she didn't see the importance and instead cut corners with a dry version from the vaults. I've corrected the oversight."
"Thank Christ," Spike muttered.
Five minutes later, Spike and Angel were back to their old selves and Wesley had left them to their squabbling.
"Say what you like, but I was the prettier drag queen, git."
"I seem to remember you saying I was and drooling over my cleavage." Angel threw back, face inches from Spike's.
Spike smirked and brought one hand up to brush over the front of Angel's trousers, tracing his still half-hard cock pointedly. "Funny, that. I seem to remember this poking into my backside in that boardroom. Going to tell me the contract was what was turning you on, pet?"
Angel clamped his mouth shut and didn't say anything, but his expression—both pissed off and aroused at the same time—said it all. Smirk broadening, Spike leaned in and said against Angel's ear, "Thought not."
Without a backward glance, Spike brushed past Angel and strode out of his office. The tosser would be stewing over this one for days, possibly even weeks.
As he passed Harmony's desk, Spike shot her a smile of approval for giving Wesley the wrong version of the root. His plans didn't come together often, but operation Drive Angel 'Round The Bend was coming along brilliantly, if he did say so himself.
~ Finis