gen_storyteller

Donde Está el Teléfono?
Summary: Spike finally gets that office he’d been wanting.
Rating: PG

DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon is simply a mystical experience shared by everybody.

Stapler. Paper clips. Elastic bands. Pencils. Shiny silver pen with W&H logo. Papers. Inbox. Outbox. Calendar in the right-hand corner (back a few days, but who cared?). What was missing?
Staple remover? No. That was in the drawer. Ruler? No. He wouldn’t be needing that. Calculator? No. Fred dealt with the numbers.

Spike leaned back in his perfectly-cushioned black leather chair (that squeaked not at all) and perused the contents of his desktop. Everything seemed to be in order. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left out. He folded his arms behind his head and put his feet up on the desk. He nudged his pencil cup, later moving on to stapling the stapler with his heel. A few papers ruffled over into the waste basket.

Hmm . . . There should have been something to get in the way there . . .

Yes! That was it! That was what was missing from his desk! A phone! Spike jumped to his feet at once. He was extremely happy to have figured it out. Then the curiosity hit him. Why didn’t he have a phone? Had the blokes down in Custodial not brought it up yet? Was there a shortage around the office? Spike tilted his head, and anger quickly replaced the curiosity. Angel didn’t want him to have a phone! That had to be the explanation. The stupid poofter was the one who’d given him the office, after all. He’d supplied all of the proper paraphernalia that an office at Wolfram & Hart should come equipped with, including a vintage German battle axe and a Chinese sword. They looked rather nice on the wall behind the desk, Spike decided. The office, however, without the phone was worthless to him.

Feeding wood the fire, Spike stewed about how, if he’d just had the phone in the first place, he’d be able to call Harmony and chew her ear out as to why Angel hadn’t given him a phone yet. Then he’d ask to be put through to Angel, and repeat the whole spiel again, using much more colorful language, and a few choice insults at the other vampire’s hair and clothing. The growing gut was a nice dig, too, if Spike was feeling angry enough. Once again realizing that he didn’t have a phone, Spike would have no problem making cracks at the lazy arse Angel had become.

But he didn’t have a phone. Angel didn’t want him to have a phone. So Spike had to do things the hard way. He expended his well-preserved energy but walking across the office — It could have been bigger, but he’d thought he’d break the room in first, before requesting a transfer — and pulling open the door.

Spike’s new office was located halfway between Angel’s and the very far wall of the building. Meaning, it was a rather long walk. But, on the other hand, if Spike felt like thinking positive, at least the two offices were on the same floor. Perhaps the stupid ape liked him a bit more than was let on. However, as Spike stomped past office after office, he realized he’d also like to complain as to why the new office that was currently occupied by him was so bloody far away from the main entrance to everything. It did not put him in much of a good mood (which he had very little of to begin with.)

He shoved past wiry interns, slimy solicitors, and busty secretaries. He turned over two plants and one mail cart, apologized to the mail guy, and bared fangs at Eve when she gave him a disapproving glare. Approaching Harmony’s desk, Spike found it abandoned. All the better, he supposed. That way, there was noone to stop him as he barged into Angel’s office.

He took a deep breath to prepare for the long and whining argument he’d been waiting to set up, and burst through the fancy double doors. He slammed his hand down on the desk, opened his mouth to speak and —

“You’re not getting a phone.” Angel interrupted him before he could even get started.

His jaw shut audibly. His eyebrow raised. Angel was still looking at the paperwork, despite the hand splayed there. The CEO scribbled a few notes and moved on to another piece of paper to his left.

“What?” Spike regained his bearings.

“You’re not getting a phone.” Angel still did not look up.

“Well why not?” Spike whined. It sounded childish, even to his ears, but he blamed it on Angel. Whenever anything went wrong, he always blamed it on Angel. Things were easier that way.

“Because I said so.”

That sounded rather parent-ish to Spike. He didn’t like when Angel got parent-ish. He moved his hand off the stack of papers and collapsed down in His Chair. “That’s not a professional answer.”

“It’s the one I’m giving you.” Angel capped his pen and placed some papers in his Outbox.

“I want a phone.”

Angel finally decided to look at him. “And I told you you’re not getting one.”

“Well I’d like a further explanation, your highness. You can’t just deny your employees their basic needs. It’s inhumane! . . . Indemonic. Whatever.”

“You’re not getting the phone for plenty of reasons, Spike, the most obvious of which is that you are not an employee. You show up whenever you feel like it, go home whenever the fancy takes you, steal things, conduct illegal poker games in the boiler room, and find the most satisfying work to be annoying me.”

“I kill things.”

“When I ask you to, and bribe you with beer, cars, and/or money.”

“S’paying me. Paying for me services means that I am under your employ. Being under your employ, I deserve a phone.” A lot of the anger had gone out of him (though make no mistake, it was still there.) He had simply found that comfortable place in which he could get under Angel’s skin and annoying the bloody bollocks out of him.

“You’ll abuse it.”

“The phone? It highly doubt it bruises if I knock it about a few times.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Having a phone in your office would be extremely tempting for you. You’d call me every fifteen minutes with some stupid prank. You’d never leave Harmony alone, asking for blood, pens, and whatnot. You’d order pizza for the entire office and charge it to my credit card. You’d find a way to get porn off it. Make long distance phone calls. Upset a whole bunch of people. . . Even someone with your size brain can see where I’m going with this. You’d abuse it.”

It was a lot to take in. Spike was surprised that Angel had managed to get it all out in one breath. He’d commented as such, and was met with a disapproving glare. “Well what do you want me to say?”

“How about, ‘Okay, Angel. I see your point. I’m very appreciative of the office you managed to get for me.’ That’d be real swell, Spike.”

“Piss off!” With a two-fingered salute, Spike stormed out of the room.

He stopped at Harmony’s desk and took a mug of blood. Backing up a couple of steps, he nicked a few pens as well. Because he was feeling like causing some mischief, he picked up the ringing phone and informed the caller that the secretary was busy debriefing the CEO in the most literal of ways. When he hung up the receiver, a thought came to him.
* * *

“Hey, Bossy?” Harmony knocked lightly on the door. When Angel looked up, she stepped inside and placed his steaming mug of blood on a coaster. “I know this is going to sound like an extremely stupid question and everything, but hey it’s me we’re talking about here, and I know what everything thinks about me. Just because I’m blonde and beautiful doesn’t mean that I’m —”

Angel smiled apologetically and signaled “one minute” with his finger. He picked up the ringing phone. “Hello?”

Harmony waited, tapping her foot and inspecting her nails. It wasn’t like it was that important. After all, what would someone do with her telephone?