Notes: Spoilers for S5 of Angel
He hated the quiet the most. Not leaving a single mark on the world. Knowing that even his feet didn't lacked an echo as they hit the floor. Of course, they weren't even there. Except when they did. He nearly jumped a hole in the air every time he managed to hear his own footsteps. Like proof, I'm here, do you hear me? I'm not gone yet. I'm here. Now.
Angel yelled at him to shut up, but he continued with a smile.
Wouldn't stop demanding them to notice him.
It was all the proof he had he wasn't gone.
Angel sat in his bed expecting the little pests voice any second now, nagging on and on about wanting a room. It was almost fun to refuse him, just to hear that little whine sputter out.
But Spike wasn't here no more. His fresh new feet had hit the floor and kicked his face.
He had his room all to himself and Spike would be off to Rome by now.
Spike would have cheekily sat down on his bed, he'd throw a pillow at him that fell in thin air.
He'd wake up to see Spike's face. But not now.
A couple in the room next door were testing out their bedsprings. Spike hit the wall, pulling back when he realized his fist went almost straight through the cardboard walls. They stopped for a second and started on again. Spike covered his head under the pillow of his single bed in his rat-hole basement.
Hated hated … wondering when Doyle'd be back so he wouldn’t be alone.
So it wouldn’t be so quiet he could hear the neighbors in their bed. So he would hear more than his own thoughts.
He wished Angel would tell him to shut up. Now.
Angel sat alone in his big dark office, quietly.
Everyone was gone, everyone, Cordy…
The door slammed open, shattering his silence with Spike's boisterous presence.
He wanted to yell at him, but it wouldn't make Cordy any less gone.
"No can do. Fred threatened me with one of the tablelegs of the pub if I didn't come and get you and the cheerleader." Spike leaned over the desk. "So where is she? Still powdering her nose?"
Spike didn't move. His hand moved toward Angel's. Inches apart.
"I'm sorry." Not a word.
Angel was glad he stayed.
It was quiet, not a single sound came rambling out of the alley. Not a single heartbeat left. Angel rested heavily on his sword and Spike faced him. Angel still didn't seem to believe they'd survived it.
They'd gotten through the night.
It was quiet, just the two of them, two dead men alone in the hostile dark.
They were there, they'd proven that.
"Shut up Spike"
Spike smirked, noticing the dark glint in his grandsire's eyes.
"Make me." Was all he whispered.
Angel grabbed him, grabbed his lips with greed. They were quiet, they were there. It felt right.