Murphy and O'Reiley
© 2002 Kylie
Sorry Alice, I'm no Anne. :)
The title refers to Murphy's Law and O'Reiley's Law. Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. O'Reiley's Law: Murphy was an optimist.
This is set at least a year into the future.
Tylenol and Excedrin would pay her a fortune for advertising space on this headache.
And I'd be tempted to sell it to them -- Hello College Fund! -- if not for the fact that I know damn well that, after months of taking prescription drugs for vision hangovers, neither Tylenol or Excedrin would be able to do much more than lightly bruise the bastard hammering away at the inside of my skull.
This was all Giles's fault.
It was surprising really, just how much chaos could be blamed on the formerly tweed encased ex-librarian. It only took a little bit of effort and a slightly different view of things.
For instance; "Conner, relax. You're parents will be home soon." A totally innocent statement, right?
*Buzzt*
Not when spoken in the presence of the lemon-mouthed-pompous-ass from the IRS, who was performing an audit on our business and personal finances.
We had enough problems trying to come up with an explanation of the business cash flow, now we have to explain why we hadn't put down that we were in a de-facto relationship -- or that we have a teenaged dependant -- on our last tax return. Mr. Lemon-face wasn't a happy camper about that, but then as far as I know he never is. Anyway he had scowled and muttered something about the way they calculate the tax, our tax bracket and a whole lot of technical jargon that had my head swimming.
That had been headache inducing situation number one.
"I'm working on something with Wesley, I'll be in Sunnydale on Monday."
Giles? Have you ever heard of caller ID?
Quite obviously Willow -- who knows both the hotel phone number and the fact that Wesley works here at Angel Investigations -- leapt to the entirely accurate conclusion that Giles was already in the country, and in fact, in LA staying at the Hyperion.
Of course she shares her conclusions! How could she keep something like that from her bested buds?
So not even an hour ago the Scooby Gang rock up on our doorstep. Or rather into our lobby.
Just in time to hear Giles's blunder to Mr. Lemon-face.
And just in time to see Angel and I stumble into the hotel.
Which wouldn't be something we'd really worried about if it weren't for the fact that all I was wearing was Angel's shirt.
Oh get that look off your face! It was perfectly innocent! The demon we had just slayed had died rather spectacularly. By exploding. Can you say 'Demon Goo Everywhere'? So? I hear you ask? Well this demon goo must have had some kind of acid in it because holes very quickly started appearing in my clothing. In places that had Angel turning some *very* interesting colors. He'd flat out refused to let me go anywhere like that so... we improvised.
And so what if improvising led to ... *ahem* Ok, returning from NC-17 land now! These sort of thoughts are not thoughts I should be having with Little-Miss-Likes-To-Fight downstairs.
Remembering the expression on the faces of the Scoobies -- a knowing smirk from Spike, horrified curiosity from everyone else -- I groaned and my headache increased. Cool fingers slid to my temples and began to massage.
Ohhhhh... I'm definitely keeping him.
After a few minutes of silence; "You want me to explain to them the whole thing? The whole we have a son together, so what if he's 16 and his mothers only 21? That he was born to a surrogate mother who dusted herself so that he could be born? That his mother also happens to be half demon and the woman I love?"
I couldn't help myself. Inner sarcastic bitch raised her head briefly. "Yeah that'll work!" I scoffed quietly. "We want them to leave, not stay for explanations. I would really prefer not to go into all of it." I admitted. "It would just confuse them and raise more questions that we can't answer."
"Like the whole happy without losing my soul thing. Well... we could be horrible hosts and leave Wesley and Giles to explain." he suggested, a mischievous glint entering his eyes.
I know that look. I saw that look not a whole lot longer than an hour ago. It's a look that never fails to take my breath away and set my pulse racing. It's almost identical to the look that finally convinced me that he *loved* loved me. This one is touched with a hotter flame but still conveys so much -- how intensely I'm wanted, how much he needs me, and just how solid and unshakable his love is.
What did I ever do to deserve such a man...pire?
I couldn't help smiling as I stretched up to kiss him. Ohh, I've just discovered a great treatment for headaches. "Are you suggesting that stay locked away up here leaving Wesley and Giles to explain to the Scoobs and the IRS?"
"Uh-huh." Shivers skittered down my spine as he nuzzled my neck.
"Why Mr. Angel...I like the way your mind works."
Things would have very quickly gone into NC-17 territory except for one small thing.
"MOM! DAD!"
As usual Murphy's and O'Reiley's Laws were in operation in the Hyperion. And as every parent knows, nothing kills the mood faster than their kids.
"Conner is going to have to work on his timing." Angel muttered, buttoning his shirt.
As we entered the hallway Xander's voice floated up from the lobby, "Are they possessed or something?"
"Or something." Spike's chuckle echoed around us as we began to make our way downstairs.
Conner was glaring at a highly amused Spike when we reached the bottom of the stairs. Pointing at the bleached vampire, Conner turned to us and demanded, "He's not *really* my uncle is he?"
Buffy gave a choked whimper as Spike answered, "Absolutely ducks.", Xander's eyes almost popped out of his head, "What?!" and Angel turned even paler, "NO!"
"Technically, Spike is your nephew Conner." Angel sighed, causing Spike to start arguing.
As the argument continued, I started laughing. I couldn't help it. Considering what I had braced myself for on the way downstairs, this was just ludicrous.
And if I had thought that Angel, Connor and Spike arguing over how they were all related was worth seeing, the expression on Mr. Lemon-face's and the Scoobie's faces when Lorne entered was priceless!
End.