Spike gaped open mouthed at the red-faced brunette who stood giggling before him. He winced as chocolate dripped off his nose. He could feel it perma-bonding itself to his hair, sinking into his pores, filling his ears.
"What...the...fuck...is...this?" he finally roared.
The girl started laughing harder, holding her ribs and bending over as tears streamed down her face. "Oh God," she choked out hysterically, "I'm dead, aren't I." Still laughing, she collapsed onto a ratty looking couch.
Unable to move, still in shock, Spike tried to figure out when his day had gone so wrong.
He had barely awoke when the phone rang. It was his poof of a sire, demanding his presence. Spike told him to sod off, but that tiny bit of bond between them finally dragged him towards the detective agency just off the Sunset Strip. The walk had been enjoyable--the tarts, the drag queens, the punkers still stuck in the '70s--they all made for a neat display.
He'd fed off a coltish little thing, all eyes, glitter makeup and fake red hair, leaving her alive to turn another trick, because he'd been feeling strangely magnanimous.
Arriving at Angel's office, he'd gone straight through the seedy reception area and opened the door to the poof's inner sanctum.
And that's when a bucket of chocolate crap had fallen on his head.
The brunette--one of the Slayer's friends--had been standing there and had started to giggle. Now, she was hysterical.
There was a noise from behind him--almost a snort--and Spike turned, squelching in the chocolate pooled at his feet.
Of course...his souliness was actually grinning.
"I hate you," Spike snarled.
"Cordelia, we're you trying to play another prank on Doyle?" Angel managed to get out before breaking into raw laughter.
"Uh...huh...get...back for...cheese whiz...in my hair," she snorted and howled, rolling on the couch.
"What is this crap?" Spike yelled, really wanting to stomp his feet, but that would only send the goo splattering farther, instead turning slowly back around to face the bimbo.
"Nutella," Cordelia gasped out. "Doyle's allergic to hazelnuts. Make him puff up." She fell off the couch and sprawled on the floor, laughing even harder.
Spike glared at her, then glared over his shoulder at his sire who was managing to calm himself as he leaned weakly against the doorjamb. "So who's going to lick me clean?" Spike asked in a pissed off voice.
More gales of laughter and then Spike felt a rough tongue across the back of his neck. It sent shivers through him, along with memories and he turned to face Angel, a chocolatey smirk on his lips. "You always did have a thing for chocolate."
"And nuts," Angel murmured before covering Spike's mouth with his own.