Pairing: Angel/Host.
Rating: PG-13
Archive reposts: ‘ Songs of Mercy'
Summary: The Host pays a visit to Angel late at night...
(General end of season 2 spoilers)
Response to another of Dusk's challenges.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, no money made etc. (Suing me would involve more spare time than anyone should have on their hands... and it's not nice.)

Angel opened the main doors of the hotel, reaching automatically for the light switch and wincing as a sudden pain shot through his wrist. The lights failed to illuminate and Angel stifled a groan, knowing full well that he was going to be forced to contact the electrician at some ungodly hour post dawn.

Earlier, Cordelia had decided to attempt to repeat her unsuccessful brownie recipe in the ancient squatting lump of metal that was trying to pass itself off as a cooker. Needless to say this experiment had proven no more auspicious than the last. It wasn't her fault that a preternatural hell fiend with more eyes than a tarantula and a fondness for consuming the brains of young virgin women, had chosen to take up residence in L.A. Nor was it her misconduct that had led the P.T.B to inform them of it's presence and demand that they deal with it... now. (As she so charmingly reminded him.)

But it had been her choice to experiment with the ‘modern technology', which actually appeared more suited to the prehistoric era. And therefore it was her fault that the demon of the hotel kitchens had fused the entire electrical circuit that supplied the hotel with light. A service permitting one to walk around without being constantly concerned about finding oneself stuck to the carpet. Courtesy of the brownies, which had some how managed to migrate from the kitchen countertop to lie in wait for unsuspecting fools stumbling around in the dark.

The slaying of the owner of 101-eyeballs-r-us had been a fairly hair-raising experience. Since each one of its eyes actually functioned, and independently of all the rest, the stealthy approach had failed more miserably that Cordelia's cooking. Prompting her to the disgusted comment: "Nobody needs that many eyes... it's just greedy."

Angel wasn't inclined to disagree with that. He was also developing a vehement dislike of creatures with tentacles. He had been quite surprised to discover that his arm was still attached to its socket. The creature-of-the-many-eyes had also proven to be an expert at administering Chinese burns. His entire arm from wrist to elbow felt like it had been doused in holy water.

He was also wondering what had attracted the grey matter munching eyeball spawn to the particular victims. The moments he had spent in their hysterical company had convinced him that they actually had no brains to speak of. And the demon hadn't even progressed beyond sampling the first one.

His eyes adjusted rapidly to the thick layers of darkness and he moved into the dimly lit lobby. A lone candle flame was flickering feebly, patting at the charcoal depths. Angel had known he was not alone from the moment he had stepped through the double doors. A figure was silhouetted on the couch, only half his profile visible, the skin of his face an eerie shade of Halloween slime.

"A little late for a social call isn't it?" Angel remarked. The Host jerked as though Angel had just plugged him into the fuse box, a volume leaping guiltily from his hands. Angel moved out of the shadows to rescue it. By the light of the fluttering candle he read the title.

"This is one of my favourites," he said, more than a little surprised by the Host's choice.

"That was pretty much an obvious. Did no one ever tell you not to fold the corners back?"

Angel smiled a little sheepishly. He had yet to use the bookmark Cordelia had decided to substitute for his tattered red leather ‘rats tail'. It bore the slogan: "Couple of clowns short of the full circus." and had been accompanied by an impish grin.

"Have you read it?" he asked. The Host shot him a pained look.

"I don't read, Angel eyes, I sing." Angel regarded him in frank disbelief.

"You were reading." He said a curious note in his voice. As far as he knew the Host used books to hide his demon entity from college students and not a lot else.

"No, I wasn't." the Host replied promptly.

"It wasn't a question. You were reading."

"I wasn't."

"You were." Angel insisted, beginning to wonder if he was seeing things, as he wasn't entirely convinced his brain was still functioning. Wesley's encouraging comment that vampires probably didn't get concussion was unfounded.

"Wasn't." The Host countered a little too swiftly. Me thinks he doth protest too much, Angel thought to himself.

"Were." Angel said firmly.

The Host was looking distinctly shifty.

"Maybe you need to change your specs, Angel cakes," the Host said with an extremely poor attempt at breeziness.

"I don't wear glasses."

"Well, maybe you need to invest in some. Although that'd be a pity, they really wouldn't suit your face shape, what with the brow... and anyway I wasn't."

Angel stared at him. He was beginning to wonder why he was having this pointless and unnecessary conversation. He was not entirely convinced he was capable of forming enough of a coherent sentence to end it. It also crossed his mind that the Host was getting his extremely defiant over a fairly trivial issue, which suggested that Angel did still possess the necessary links between his retinas and his brain to support sight. This he found distinctly reassuring. Being almost strangled by a long green hosepipe with suckers and thrown from one end of a factory to the other did play havoc with one's mind.

"Where did you get it anyway?" The Host demanded "It's an only edition, Petal, it can't have been, well, did it by any chance fall off the back of a truck, hmmm?"

Angel dropped his gaze, and shifted his feet uncomfortably, while at the same time thinking wildly: Petal?! Peaches, and now Petal. What was it about him that inspired these ridiculous names?

"I... I, uh..."

"Stole it?" the Host supplied helpfully.

"Yeah."

"From the Middle Temple Library. What is it with you and these lawyer types?"

Angel chose to ignore that last remark. He was tired, hungry and without the restraints of Caritas, wrestling with his conscience over the costs and benefits of eating the Host. He still hadn't had the chance to ‘thank' him for the last episode involving the Easter Bunny. If he was going to be lectured about obtaining books in a less than honest fashion to boot, he was thinking that homicide wasn't such a bad idea. His main concern was the possibility that it would lose him his soul.

Instead the Host reclined contentedly amongst the couch cushions. He shot upright again instantly with a muffled yelp and extracted from beneath his behind Cordelia's missing hairbrush, with bent bristles that it was now moulting all over the couch.

"The last time I stole anything was when I was in my own dimension," he said thoughtfully. "Sharkanashwok of the Ipnork Clan found herself a chameleon. We didn't have chameleons in our reality, so I s'pose I should have known better. She was going to eat it of course; I mean talk about single-minded. That sort of a'tude is so superficial. Anyway, I... acquired it. Turned out to be a Vituperian Lizard. It just sat there for a few days not doing a lot and my mother was talking about throwing me into the Canyons if anyone ever found out I was collecting perfectly good meals and keeping them as pets." He mimicked a female voice in a tone that suggested the impression was an accurate one.

Angel tried to entertain the possibility of eating a chameleon and tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He was trying not to think about what else the Host might have eaten, particularly seeing as a ‘social call' at this time of night could only be about one thing. And he really didn't want to kiss a chameleon, or worse...

"It wasn't an interesting creature, or so I thought at the time, but it was the most heavenly shade of cobalt that I've ever seen. I had to have that jacket made privately to reproduce it." He gestured to a full lapelled suit jacket slung casually across the reception desk. "Honestly, with a colour like that you would think it would be all the rage, sadly with people like, well, you, in society, clogging up the catwalks, it's a miracle we get any colour variation at all."

Angel barely had time to process the insult, which was probably fortunate for the Host, before the story rattled on.

"Anyway, I was actually contemplating giving it back to her, you know, it wasn't doing much except eating and looking pretty and hey, it wasn't worth risking my family relations for, they pretty much hated me enough as it was. Next thing I know I turned around and it had a blue stripe! Well, writing actually. The thing had ‘DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT' printed all up one side. Vituperate means abuse, doesn't it? That thing spent the next few years insulting me! That became its favourite phrase. That and one other. I had this lavender cape once, and the first thing it said to me: FUN OUT FIT... IT IS FANCY DRESS ISN'T IT? Never stole anything again I can tell you!"

"If it was anything like this one I can see why." Angel remarked picking up the jacket the Host had slung over the counter top and putting it on.

"Remind me again why it is that I put up with your attitude?" The Host asked.

"Isn't that why you love me?" Angel asked innocently.

"Sadly enough, it would appear so." The Host said shaking his head. "Although," he added standing up and moving a step closer to Angel, "I have to say that you look really hot in that coat."

Angel found a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself. He closed the final step between them until he could feel the brush of the coat lapels against the Host's shirt.

"And just what do you plan to do about it?" he murmured.

The Host caught up a handful of Angel's tattered shirt in his fist, pulling the vampire to his chest.

"This," he informed him, a heartbeat before his lips closed over Angel's.

The doors to the hotel swung open and the light switch clicked ineffectively. There was a frustrated growl and suddenly the room was filled with a blinding light. Angel pulled away from the Host abruptly.

"Oh please, can't you two get a room already?" Cordelia demanded, stalking into the lobby. She wearing a badge that read: ‘Piss me off... pay the consequences' and a pair of multicoloured feathery earrings that had matched her top, pre demon slime. Behind her stood Gunn holding a lantern and Wesley who looked as though he'd just been confronted with the living eyeball and tentacle hell beast again.

"Cordelia, love the earrings," the Host said smoothly into the shocked silence.

Angel was nervously wiping his mouth, looking everywhere but at his fellow co-workers, who in turn were gaping at him like he was some new and very dangerous species.

Cordelia scoffed.

"Yeah, whatever."

The Host leaned over to Angel and he flinched, as though afraid the Host was going to kiss him again.

The Host shot him an annoyed look and whispered: "Is there a fancy dress party I should know about?"

Angel snorted and swiftly turned it into a cough as Cordelia wheeled around to glare at him.

"Honestly, it's like something off Jerry Springer in here sometimes. ‘My best friend's lover is a demon.' And why the hell are you wearing that Angel?"

"Hey!" The Host exclaimed. " That cost four hundred dollars and..."

"Then why are you letting him wear it?" Cordelia interrupted.

"Hey!" Angel yelped.

"I just meant ‘cause you're all over demon slime... geez, take a pill!"

She turned to Gunn and Wesley who were still frozen in place as though regarding the next wonder of the world, also filed under the bizarre and disturbing.

"What?" she demanded. "Have you never seen two men kissing before? Okay, not men, but you know what I mean."

Gunn blinked a couple of times and emerged from his trance.

"Yeah, sure, whatever yo's into." He shrugged uneasily and averted his gaze.

Wesley was still regarding them with a mixture of fascination and revulsion as though they were some kind of specimen he was being forced to analyse. Angel turned away, putting his elbows on the desk and resting his forehead against his hands, hiding his face.

"Wesley! Stop staring!" Cordelia hissed. She knew that Angel would be able to hear her, but his expression made her want to hit Wesley for his indiscretion.

Angel straightened up his face a neutral mask which revealed his discomfort far more clearly than if he had just admitted it.

"Perhaps you guys should take the rest of the night off." He suggested.

"Already gone." Gunn informed him, backing towards the exit doors while Wesley opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"Sure thing, boss." Cordelia said brightly, snatching up her leather jacket and turning to leave. She stopped dead swivelling around with a grimace. "I mean, um, Angel," she corrected herself quietly

"And, um, it's okay if we go right?" she added to Wesley.

He closed his mouth into a grim line. He wanted an excuse to insist that she remained, just to undermine Angel's authority. It was the principal of the thing, but he had no desire to witness the floorshow any more than she did. Finally he managed a cold nod. Cordelia slipped meekly past him into the night, escorted by Gunn and the lantern. The hotel grew dark once more and the air was as stiff as a sheet of steel, vibrating with the tension. Wesley turned on his heel.

"Uh, Wes," Angel called quietly.

He stopped without turning and said, "Yes Angel?" in a voice like ice.

"Sorry." The vampire's apology was almost swallowed by the darkness but the single word stabilised the bridge that had threatened to come crashing down. Wesley smiled into the reflective blackness of the double doors.

"Thank you." He opened the midnight mirrors and stepped out into the night.

Angel turned to look at the Host again. The light of the candle playing over his features showed that the demon was smiling. Perhaps it was the guilty expression on Angel's face combined with the effect of his embarrassment from earlier that made the Host feel as though his insides had recently been put through the blender. Gently he drew Angel back into his embrace, his lips light, his tongue probing at the soft coolness of the vampire' mouth. Angel returned the kiss more fiercely, seeking to drive away his humiliation. His teeth sharp on the Host's tongue, his lips hard on his mouth, gripping the Host's by his arms with force enough to tear the shirt from his body, let alone crease it.

"Easy tiger!" The Host pulled back, staring into the dark turbulent eyes. "If you're feeling that way, how about that room?"

Angel pulled away from him and went over to lock the main doors. Returning, he took hold of the Host's belt loops in flexing fingers and smiled wickedly.

"Don't see what is wrong with this one."

The Host sucked in his breath as the vampire slid his hands down inside the front of his trousers.

"No, it's looking pretty good to me right now." His mouth closed around Angel's again and he arched his pelvis forward into Angel's hands.

"You know what this candle light reminds me of?" he asked a moment later.

"Why don't you tell me?" Angel asked, his voice had lowered and taken on a husky edge, his fingers beginning to explore.

The Host leaned further forward and whispered something in his ear. Angel froze, eyes wide he stared at the Host.

"You do know that that is illegal in some countries?" he pointed out.

"Thank God for the US of A. Now don't be pusillanimous."

Angel put his hands on his hips.

"You have so read that book."

The Host shrugged.

"That isn't the issue."

Angel opened his mouth to speak. The Host's long fingers slid inside his shirt and began to caress his cool flesh, making the vampire shiver against him. "No," he admitted, his voice growing unsteady, his breath gasping from his lungs. "I guess it really isn't."

"Now come on," The Host muttered against his neck, trailing his lips along the length of Angel's jugular.

"I dare you."





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Requirements were to include:
-takes place somewhere other than Caritas.
-why the host is fond of seabreezes. (didn't find an
answer to that one - will explore at a later date.)
-angel & host trying to outdo each other with tales of
misspent youth.
-Angel wearing an item of the host's clothing.
-one of the humans asking just why the hell angel is
wearing the item.
-lavender. (colour, flower, scent or oil)
-a hairbrush.
-a button or badge with an amusing slogan.
-sand.
-earrings.
-a reference to a library.
-a book both have read.
-a mention of a pet.
-one of them being dared to do something.
-the Host refusing to admit to something he is
undeniably guilty of.
-a baking ref.
-a lengthy or unusual word spoken by either (failed on
this count too but it was the only one which fit -
pusillanimous)
-the line:'i turned around & it had a blue stripe'
-a childrens toy.
-a reference to a talk show

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