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Instinct
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"It's bollocks, Angel! It's your brand of bollocks from the first to last." Arms and spit flying in the air, Spike stomped over to the couch before circling back to face Angel.

Ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him how ridiculous he looked, Angel mimicked -- unconsciously, of course -- Spike's movements. "No, you can't ever see the big picture. You can't see any picture!"

"I am talking about something primal." A quick flash of white teeth, something almost primal. "Right? Savagery. Brutal animal instinct." Somewhere during those words, Spike's voice dropped to a growl.

"And that wins out every time with you." Angel couldn't help it, the low rumble, almost a purr, in Spike's tone made him lean in. "You know, the human race has evolved, Spike!" He was so close, close enough to see the crystal-like quality in Spike's eyes. It reminded him of the summer sky. Briefly, he wondered that if he ever left Wolfram and Hart and their special sun-proof glass, would he be content just to look into those eyes and he'll be back in the sun?

The answer was yes. And that scared him. Angel did the thing he always did when something emotional happened, he walked away.

But Spike was different, he followed. True, he followed with rude gestures and insults, but he followed. And that made something inside him stir.

"Oh, into a bunch of namby-pamby, self-analyzing wankers who could never hope to—"

Rubbing a hand over his face, Angel doubted that the action would erase the smile tugging at his lips. He shouted back, cutting Spike off before something worse than 'wanker' could be said. And knowing Spike, something worse would be said. "We're bigger. We're smarter. Plus, there's a thing called teamwork, not to mention the superstitious terror of your pure aggressors!"

He could see the glint of amusement in Spike's eyes at his air quotes gesture and couldn't help but lean in again.

"You just want it to be the way you want it to be." So smug, arrogant in his words and his body language. Spike invaded Angel's personal space just as the brunette did the same.

"It's not about what I want!" Angel yelled; it was never about what he wanted. Not Buffy. Not Connor. Not Cordelia. Everything he wanted, or thought he wanted, was gone. Pushed away by him or taken away by others.

Sensing a change in Angel's stance, Spike stepped closer. "It can be."

Their eyes met only seconds before their lips did. Teeth clattered with need and blood coated their lips. Spike's words, only spoken moment ago, echoed in Angel's head. Brutal animal instinct.

That was it. Instinct. Instinctual need to seek out what was needed to survive and what was wanted for pleasure.

Deepening the kiss, Angel was surprised to find that in Spike, both need and want were satisfied.

Spike pushing him away was unexpected and most definitely unpleasant. The scowl on his face must have told the blonde that, because Spike smirked and tilted his head toward the door.

Angel understood; decades of history provided ample knowledge in each other's body language. "It's locked."

"Good."

The word was crushed between their mouths when they resumed the kiss with less force and more passion.

Maybe Spike was right about the animal instinct, Angel thought lazily as he brushed his tongue over the roof of Spike's mouth. But he'd never let him know that.

In the hallway, Wesley frowned at the locked door and left as moans drifted out from the office.

~ END ~