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[idolpire]

who: Spike and John Wick
what: Bitchy fighting between whatever the hell they are
when: Before the building fire
where: John's home
warnings: Language. Violence. Feeding/Blood. Possibly sex? Will update if needed.

After he and John had left the hospital, he'd called him up before his date with Buffy. Spike had been so uncertain about it, he hadn't heard the distance starting in John's tone, hadn't really picked at the words that were already building a wall between them. It was a full week after before he realized that he hadn't heard from or seen the man who had been something akin to a shadow in his life since he'd gotten here. Quiet, often unseen, but always there.

So he'd tried calling. It had gone to voicemail. He'd called again. He'd texted. He'd felt like a bloody idiot, going back through their interactions to see what he'd done to have pissed him off. Whatever John and he were, he'd thought they were at least friends. There was something that kept them circling around each other, and it rubbed him in all the wrong ways to know that he was being intentionally ignored.

So come nightfall, Spike found himself working up a good head of mad, downing a bottle of whiskey on the way to John's from his crypt. It took awhile, what with him being outside the fence and John's home being in it, but he just worked up his mad all the way there, talking aloud to himself as he stalked towards his target, drinking from the bottle until by the time he was stomping up the steps, there was an inch or two of dark liquid left in the bottom. Spike stepped up to the door and booted it open, walking in and taking in a deep breath, picking up the scent of John and his dog. "Honey! I'm bloody well home!"

Comments

[adiuvio]

"Let go of me." John raises his hands to break Spike's hold and push him away, but instead he finds himself gripping Spike's wrist with white-knuckled fingers.

"I ain't going nowhere." A bit of that old rough creeps back into John's voice, already thick with emotion and drink. The low-talk he'd left at the doorstep of The Continental, along with his sneakers, after walking away from his life as a grunt, and becoming a professional.

[idolpire]

"Make up your bloody mind," he hisses, drawing John in closer, lips pulled back in a snarl. "This wishy washy back and forth bollocks is part of the problem. Either be you, or be whatever it is that hides alone in the dark. You don't get to play in both worlds, Wick."

He lets go of him after that, but there's still a grip around his wrist that he looks at, then back up at John as if to prove his point.

[adiuvio]

"It's that easy, is it? Glad you've got it all figured out, cause I sure as hell don't." John doesn't let go of Spike. Even knowing Spike could snap him like a twig, he's not afraid of him. Spike, on the insider, is softer than he is. Spike, without his soul, has more soul than so many self-proclaimed humans John's met.

"I don't know what world I'm in, anymore. You met the me who had a place, and knew who and what he was, but I'm not that man, anymore. I'm still figuring it out." His eyes burn into Spike's eyes. If there's a monster in front of him, he's not seeing it. John only sees a man, one capable of as much hurt as he is.

"If you think you can handle that, I s'pose I could, too."

[idolpire]

"We're both in the same shit, Wick. Same messed up place that takes people that don't belong. There is no world here. This is just a holding pattern until they figure out what to do with you. That what you doing to do, then? Just sit here and wait until someone else tells you where to go? I don't know much, mate, but I know that's not you." He wanted to shove John, push him away even as he wanted to keep him right there. Spike didn't handle emotions well. It messed with the demon that he shared his body with.

And John was doing a very good job of pissing off both the man and the monster.

[adiuvio]

"I don't mean here." John's fingers tighten around Spike's arm, and he walks forward, pushing him back- if Spike allows it. Until Spike's back meets the wall.

"This place ain't the half of it. I was retired. I had given all that up, all of it, for her. Then I lost her, and that life, and now I don't have anywhere. I can't go back to the man I was, and I..." John's eyes cast down, teeth gritting.

[idolpire]

Spike lets him, because some reaction is better than no reaction. He feels his back at the wall, looking to see John spitting words in his face and he spits more back. "Oh, boo-bloody-hoo. Are you actually going to stand here and cry to me about you having to continue to get on with your life? It might feel like you should shrivel up and die when you lose someone, but you don't. And if you don't, maybe you're lucky enough to find something to fill that hole for a while."

He shoved a finger at John's chest. "You don't get to decide to half live through life, you twit. You do it or you die. Is that what you want? You want to die?"

[adiuvio]

"Maybe." John pushes his knee between Spike's thighs, forcing his arm up over his head. Pushing Spike, and his luck, because looking death in the eyes is what John does best.

"You still gonna do it?" Equal parts dare and proposition, in a voice so raw Spike can practically taste the blood on John's breath beneath the whiskey. John doesn't know what he wants from Spike, but he knows he doesn't want him to leave.

He's cursed, there's no doubt of that, but maybe he's lucky, too, and John's always liked playing the odds. It's the only way he plays at all.

[idolpire]

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? That's why you do the daft shit you wind up doing. To push yourself to the edge. To tip over and go 'Well, it wasn't my fault. Someone else did it for me'. I'm not going to ruddy well kill you, you sod. I might turn you. Prove to you once and for all that for all your bitching and whining, you do have a soul, because you'll feel it when it's gone."

He felt the knee between his legs, felt John trying to gain the upper hand, and he decided to turn the tables on him. In that quick too-fast motion vampires had, he moved, slipping out of John's hold and pressing the man's face to the wall, covering John's back with his chest as he pinned him there, not letting him move. "This what you want, Wick? You want someone else to do the living and dying for you?"