Subtext? We don't need no stinkin' subtext!
Run Away by Angel
Chase
Rated PG13
Note: Special thanks to Deena for the beta.
I rolled on my back, finding myself dangerously close to the
edge of the bed. It was something that always happened to me when I slept
in an unknown bed. My body seemed to have trouble adjusting to the new dimensions,
no matter how big or comfortable the bed was. That was when the memory of
the previous night hit me; when I realized I was in Lindsey McDonald's hotel
room and more precisely in Lindsey's bed.
In case I had any doubts about Lindsey's location, he rolled to his side and
his arm landed on my bare stomach. The movement interrupted my plan to get
the hell out of there as fast as possible.
Nothing personal, but what was I going to say when I had no idea what the
hell happened? I remembered…stuff. I remembered hard kisses and the touch
of his skin. I remembered the smell of alcohol on our mingled breath. You
know there had to be alcohol; otherwise I wouldn't have been able to go through
with it.
It started innocently enough. I was surprised to see him in my ‘hood and it
wasn't the cool kind of surprise. I followed him because I wanted to know
why the hell he was visiting my boys and most of all, what the hell he was
doing back in Los Angeles; so much for going back to his roots -unless those
were his roots, which I doubted.
One thing was different about him: he wasn't wearing an expensive suit, just
jeans and a shirt. I wondered if it was because my boys wouldn't trust him
if he showed up wearing a suit.
He sauntered into an alley and I waited a minute before following him. So
much for my stalking abilities: Lindsey was there waiting for me.
"You should have picked up a trick or two from your boss," he said.
The suit was gone but he was still a smug bastard.
"Whatcha doin' on this side of town?" I asked. My tone was threatening
but he didn't seem intimidated by it. Gotta give the guy credit for that.
I'm practically twice as big and he knows I could kick the living shit out
of him, but still, he kept his smirk on and replied that it didn't concern
me.
Of course, his smugness went to hell when I pushed him up against the wall.
"Easy, man," he said. "I'm just here to do some business. Nothing
demonic, so it's really not something you should be worried about." He
straightened his shirt casually. The man had fine manners. "It's actually
a very interesting deal…" he carried on, "I could use a partner,
if you're interested."
His insinuation should have enraged me, but curiosity was killing me and life
at Angel Investigations was starting to seem really dull, so I caved. "Really?"
I guess I failed at trying not to sound very interested. Lindsey smiled and
patted my back.
"Come on. Let's get a drink."
***
Lindsey McDonald was in deep shit. He needed cash and he needed it fast, but
looking at him, I would have never figured that out. It felt strange to have
him make all sort of confessions about what happened after he decided to leave
Wolfram & Hart. They made his life a living hell.
The guy went on and on about his project and his reasons; I couldn't help
feeling a little sorry for him. Yeah, even if the guy had tried to wipe us
off the face of the earth. He wanted out, and they showed him that no one
quits Wolfram & Hart. I guess, they tell you when you're done and not
the other away around. A part of mewas glad to see that he was paying for
the bad choices he had made in the past.
He talked and we drank. Later, when he was having trouble getting the words
out my legs wouldn't support me anymore, I decided that I could help him.
After all, I was working side by side with a vampire seeking redemption, and
I knew a thing or two about regret myself. The difference between Angel and
Lindsey? Angel had friends that supported him. Lindsey, on the other hand,
was on his own.
"Ok, I'm in," I said as we made our way out of the bar.
He looked at me and tears filled his blue eyes. "Man," he said.
"I can't thank you enough." He hugged me clumsily and we stumbled;
we ended up supporting ourselves on the wall, our bodies pressed closed together.
"Thank you," he whispered in my ear before brushing his lips across
my cheek.
***
It wasn't supposed to end like this, with me thinking about sneaking out,
walking away from him. It wasn’t what I intended to do when I agreed to help
him. I really wanted to make things better for him and I know he needs more
than a quick lay. And 'this' is not something I can handle. I try to tell
myself that it was the alcohol, but I know better. I saw something in Lindsey
that made me want to help him, protect him, comfort him; even love him.
I don't know if I can do it now. I don't know if I can face him or deal with
what happened; I can't face Fred or the gang right now either. I ponder my
options: stay here to avoid them or go back to the hotel, running away from
Lindsey.
His arm is still resting on my bare stomach and his skin feels soft and warm.
My body tingles as he shifts again. His hand slips up over my ribs and if
I wanted to escape, it'd be easy to leave without waking him now.
So why isn't my ass on its way out the door? I don't know what I want anymore.
Lindsey McDonald got to me. Why? I ask myself. The answer comes easily: because
he's helpless.
I bury my head in the pillow and relax on the mattress. We help the helpless,
we don't run away.
.End
Disclaimer: The characters/concepts of Angel belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al. No infringement is intended and no profit is made. All fic and essay are copyrighted to their authors.