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| [ In Trade] by Lar Lindsey/Angel. Sexy, happy fic. Angel waits in the lobby, in the dark, staring at the door with his fingers steepled in front of him. He glances at the clock now and then but other than that he is still. Silent. Waiting.
His two hour vigil is rewarded with the booming sound of the lobby door being thrown open and rebounding into the wall. He made a mental bet on broken glass but it looks like that's not happening. What he has gotten right, however, is that Lindsey's temper will always get the better of him, and he'll be right back here as soon as he's been pulled over.
It is reassuring to see that he hasn't lost his touch in reading humans.
"Get down here, you son of a bitch." Lindsey's voice, loud and full of rounded vowels echoes in the lobby. Angel smells the anger rolling off the man in waves. Anger, frustration, and the slightest hint of arousal under all that tension.
Yes, he still has it. | |
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| [ UST] by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) apetslifeAngel/Lindsey. Banter and hot sex. "Angel, are you tone deaf?"
"No, and at least I'm not really, really short."
"No," he shook his head impatiently, "it's a serious question. Can you tell the difference between this-" he strummed an easy C chord, "and this?" He modulated to E.
"Yeah. Kind of. One's...higher, right?" Ah, confusion in those dark eyes.
"No wonder you can't sing. You're tone deaf. It's a thing, you can't really tell the difference between notes."
"I can."
"No, you can't."
"I CAN!"
"OK, fine." He sniffed, kept playing. He loved to play when he was drunk. Was he drunk? Yeah, kinda. Good scotch. He paused to hold out his glass. Looked at Angel. | |
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