A Bad Hair Day
By Fyre
TITLE: A Bad Hair Day
AUTHOR: Fyredansa
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Spike messes with someone's do...
FEEDBACK: It's every writer's bread and water...sorta
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: None really.
COUPLE: Not exactly a couple
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine. Ain't fair. Ain't anything more to say.
CLASSIFICATION: Just a single, silly, fun fic I wrote after an exam...kinda explains the weirdness ;-)
NOTES: This was actually another improv from Having a Thought - Improv: Sepia, wish, memory, revenge - Written : 9/12/2000
DEDICATED: The improv group for letting my insanity loose!
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“Spike!”
The sandy-haired young man’s blue eyes rose in a show of innocence over the top of the book he was reading, a flicker of a smile threatening to dominate his features, his bare feet propped casually on the desk in front of him.
“What is it?” He asked, tilting his head, squinting. “And why is your hair such a strange colour?”
Slapping the younger vampire across the head, the vampiress hissed. “You should know. You were the last one to use my shampoo…after I told you not to. What did you do to it?”
Pouting, he maintained his innocent look. “What do you mean?” He stared at the vivid colour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Uh, hello?” Pointing at her sepia-coloured mane, she narrowed her eyes at him, her delicate, slender hands balled into fists on her hips. “You’re the only one of the gang who went to that bloody Woodstock festival. You and I both know hippies have a thing for dye.”
“And that means I made your pretty hair go funny?” Quirking his scarred eyebrow at her, he giggled like a naughty child. “Do I look stupid enough to have polluted your precious shampoo?”
The vampiress growled, picking the younger vampire up by the throat, his grin never fading. “Admit it.” She hissed, tightening her grip. “Admit it and tell me how to get it out or you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
“How can I admit what I didn’t do?” Pouting, he tried not to grimace as her hand tightened further.
Dropping him in a heap with a snarl of disdain, she turned on heel and stormed away, muttering curses under her breath about cocky young vampires and their idiotic, absent Sires.
Rubbing his throat, Spike chuckled hoarsely, recalling how horrific the shade looked on her.
True, she couldn’t see how bad it really was herself, but no doubt, the fact that every single vampire in the Lair collapsed in hysterical giggles at the sight of her was a bit of a giveaway.
Retrieving his book, he dropped back into the seat he had been occupying moments before, commiting the expression on her face to memory, along with the hundreds of others.
For the millionth time, he wondered why she hadn’t staked him yet. She’d fallen foul of his pratical jokes so many times and yet, he was still present. True, she never had evidence that it really was him and true, she did eventually say that she did find some of them mildly amusing, but her demon should have done him in already.
Not that he was complaining.
Leaning back in the massive wooden seat, he started flicking through the book again, grinning. By now, she would be plotting how she was going to get her own back.
She’d tried before and failed miserably.
Many times.
It would be interesting to see what she came up with this time.
~~~~~
Carefully squeezing half of her favourite shampoo out of the bottle and washing it down the sink, the vampiress smirked, opening the small tube that lay on the edge of the work surface beside her.
Forcing all the contents of the tube into the bottle, she watched as the two substances blended together into an inseperable, semi-liquid solution.
That cocky childe wouldn’t know what had hit him.
And, of course, he wouldn’t suspect. It had taken several months of waiting before she was able to accept he wasn’t watching for her attack. Now, he didn’t even suspect what was coming.
Not a chance in hell.
Replacing the cap of the shampoo bottle, she reached over to the taps and turned them off, trailing her hands lazily through the warm, steamy water, a cruel smile crossing her pretty face.
“Time to take my revenge, my boy.” She murmured, rising and walking out of the bathroom slowly, brushing her hands on the soft towel around her body.
“Is the bathroom free?” Spike danced around her, a smear of blood on his chin, his demon face on display.
With a nod, she tossed her hair indignantly in his face. It had taken three months for the colour to finally wash out and he still couldn’t help but sniggering every time he saw her.
“Don’t use my shampoo.” She cautioned him as usual, knowing and expecting him to listen as little as he usually did.
Bouncing into the marble-decorated room, he slammed the door behind him, never seeing the wide grin on her face, as she sauntered away down the quiet hall to her bedchamber.
Towelling herself dry, the vampiress heard a yell of agony from the bathroom and chuckled softly. Picking up her brush, she ran it through her own soft, blonde hair.
“You know, Spike.” Darla murmured, trying to fight a grin, as the shrieks from the bathroom grew more and more girlish. “I always wondered what you’d look like with bleached blonde hair.”
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