by SpikesKat

 

 

Title: Astronauts! Cavemen!

Author: Slaymesoftly

Words:  1800 + or –

Written for Good_Evil’s artathon and Seductivembrace’s great banner.

Takes place during “Smile Time”

Beta’d by SpikesKat

 

 

 

Astronauts! Cavemen!

 

“Astronauts!”

 

 “Cavemen!”

 

“Idiot!”

 

“Bleedin’ poofter!”

 

 

 

“Are they fighting again?”

 

“Well, they’re arguing.  I don’t know how much fighting two puppets can actually…”

 

Whatever Wesley was going to say was lost as two large, fabric covered dolls came barreling through the open door of Angel’s office, snarling and snapping. Tufts of stuffing began to float through the air as the two puppet vampires rolled around on the carpet, oblivious to the astonished humans.  When an arm that had been wrenched off one of the puppets flew up and hit Wes in the head, he sighed and gestured for Gunn to step forward.

 

“I suppose we had best separate them before they can turn themselves into--”

 

He stopped, waiting until Gunn was in place before grabbing a pair of stubby, cloth-covered legs. As Gunn pulled on the equally stubby legs he’d caught, the two men moved away from each other, dragging the snarling puppets with them.  Only when both puppets had stopped struggling, did they cautiously relax their holds. 

 

Gunn bent over and picked up the detached arm.

 

“Okay, which one of you undead toys does this belong to?”

 

“‘m not a toy!”

 

“You look like a toy to me.  What do you think, Wes?  A toy for you and one for me?”

 

“WE ARE NOT TOYS!”  Angel’s angry roar was muffled by the stuffing still stuck to his cloth fangs.

 

“Right then,” Gunn said.  “You’re just idiots.”

 

“I’m still your boss, I’d like to point out.” Angel did his best to growl in a menacing fashion.

 

“A – you can’t point, cause you have stubby little fingers and the arm they’re attached to is right here in my hand.  And, B – you’re a three-foot tall puppet.  I don’t answer to dolls.”

 

Gunn tossed the arm in Angel’s direction, began to walk away and said over his shoulder, “I’ll send Harmony in to sew that back on.”

 

Wes stood, hands on hips, staring at the two disheveled and grumbling puppets.

 

“I have work to do. Is it safe to leave you two alone?”

 

His only response was muttering and grumbling as the two puppets tried to replace some of the stuffing now littering the hallway.

 

“What is it, Blondie-be--  Eek!  Spike? What happened to you? And what is …Boss? Is that you?”

 

“Stop gawking and get a needle and thread,” Angel growled, waving his detached arm around.  “You need to sew me…us…back together.”  He threw a tooth marked cloth ear at Spike.  “Here, I think you lost this.”

 

“Sew?” Harmony blinked in confusion.  “I don’t know how to sew.”

 

Spike tried to roll his eyes.  “Well, get Fred, then.  We’ll be in Angel’s office.”

 

He pushed himself to his feet, clutching his ear and as much of the stuffing as he could hold in his fat little hands.  Angel quickly snatched up as much as he could carry, then ordered Harmony to gather the rest of the cotton batting that was left on the carpet.  With a sigh, she walked around scooping up the little pieces of fluffy stuffing.

 

When she entered the office, both puppets were struggling to clamber up onto the couch – Spike with more success, due to still have both his arms mostly attached.  With a sigh, Harmony picked Angel up and carefully placed him at the opposite end from where Spike rested in panting triumph.

 

“Oooo, you’re so squishy!  Are you squishy too, Blondie Bear?” 

 

Before Spike could sputter a refusal, Harmony had picked him up and was cuddling him against her ample bosom.  Squeezing him and giggling as he burrowed into her chest, growling softly, she paraded around the room with her prize.

 

“I love this! You are too cute.  Both of you.  I could just take you both home and--”

 

“Harmony!  Put Spike down and go get Fred!” Angel roared – as best he could with cotton lungs and tongue.  “And don’t tell anyone why - just go.”

 

“Sheesh, Boss.  Being a puppet hasn’t done much for your disposition.” With a pout, she deposited Spike back on the couch where he pretended to be unhappy about having spent so much time pressed into her chest.

 

She sashayed her way out of the room, returning within a few minutes with Fred and a sewing kit in tow. Fred, having been briefed by Wes on the condition of the vampires, managed to seem matter-of-fact as she sat down and pulled out a darning needle and heavy thread.

 

“Okay, then,” she said with a perky smile.  “Which one wants to be mended first?”

 

Spike waved a puffy hand. “Oh, be all means, reattach the poofter’s body parts first.  Most of the stuffing is his, too.  There’s no way I’m that fat.”

 

Fred sat down between the two puppets and pulled Angel into her lap.

 

“Hey! A little respect!”

 

“What?  I have to have you where I get the right angle on this. Now hold still.”

 

In no time, she had skillfully sewn Angel’s arm back on, carefully replacing the missing stuffing before she did so.  She moved him around on her lap, completely oblivious to where she was placing his face as she examined him for other rips and tears.  When she found one, she would quickly stitch the rip up, and then turn him over again, looking for more.  When she finally pronounced him whole, he scrambled off her lap and retreated to his desk, hauling himself up into his chair and sitting there, stubby legs sticking out in front of him and an embarrassed frown on his face.

 

Unlike Angel, Spike was more than willing to jump into Fred’s lap.  He cuddled next to her waiting to see what positions she would have to put him into in order to repair the damage done by his grandsire.  To his great disappointment, she only sat him up so that she could reach his ear. 

 

“Shouldn’t you have to, I don’t know, put my head in your lap or something?”

 

“It’s your ear, Spike” she replied, quickly sewing the ear back on and determining that he had very few other serious injuries.  She repaired the rips in his arms and one on his back, then went to place him back on the floor.

 

“Hey! Wait. You don’t know if you got ‘em all,” he protested, trying and failing to cling to her with his soft puffy hands.  “For all you know, the big poof bit me on my bum.”

 

“I doubt that, Spike,” Fred said with a tolerant smile, at the same time that Angel growled, “I did not bite you on the ass!”

 

“You won’t know till you look, will you?” Spike wheedled, giving a thread-filled smile when Fred sighed and turned him over her knees to check out his well-padded ass.  He wriggled happily as she ran her hand lightly over his butt, then yelped when she smacked it hard.   Before he could follow up with a lewd comment about the spanking, he found himself deposited on the floor.

 

With a cheery wave, Fred collected her sewing materials and walked out of the office, assuring them that Wesley was working very hard to find out what the spell was so that he could fix it.

 

Spike glanced down at himself and said with a pout, “She didn’t fix this little rip in my crotch. I…hey! Is that a toothmark?  Did you bite me on my dick, you pervert?”

 

“You don’t have a dick right now, idiot,” Angel said with a sigh. 

 

“Well, if I did have one, you’d have bitten it!”

 

“If you didhave one, I wouldn’t have bitten you there.”

 

“You wouldn’t?”  Spike sounded almost disappointed, but didn’t follow up his question.  Instead, he tried to pull out the waistband of the jeans sewn onto his body so that he could peer down at himself.  “Are you sure we don’t have…”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Why are you sure?” he asked, still tugging on his waistband.

 

“Because I looked, all right?”

 

“Maybe you were wrong.  Or maybe it’s just you that doesn’t have one…”

 

“Oh for--” Angel hopped off the chair and walked over, yanking Spike’s pants out.  “See? No dick.  Nothing. Nada.”

 

“I think I see something,” Spike said peering down into his pants.  “See? Right there. There’s something…”

 

“What? Where?” Angel leaned forward to get a better look, just as Lorne pushed open the door to the office and barged in.

 

“Hey ho, puppet people, I…oh, my bad.  Sorry!”  He turned to leave, pausing when the two puppets began to sputter explanations and denials.  “Hey, hey, scrumptious and scrumptiouser. No need to explain to me. You boys just go right back to what you were doing.  My errand can wait.  Enjoy!”  He waved and left the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

 

“Wonderful. This is all your fault, you jackass. If you hadn’t been so worried about--”

 

“Wasn’t me grabbing another bloke’s pants and yanking them down, grandpa,” Spike interrupted, waving his puffy hand around.  “I think we all know who’s at fault here.”

 

“I wasn’t the one worried about missing something you can’t use right now anyway.”

 

“You were worried. You said you already checked.”

 

“I wasn’t worried, I was just…gathering information.”

 

“Bollocks!”

 

“Shut up, Spike.”

 

“Make me.”

 

Angel growled, then thought better of it, remembering how cavalierly Fred had handled him when she put him back together.

 

“Just go over there and stay quiet, will you?  I’m sure Wes will have this figured out pretty soon.”

 

With as much of a pout as his little face could manage, Spike retreated to the couch and sat there, occasionally pulling out his pants and peeking down just in case he’d missed something the first ten times he checked.

 

“Can’t even have a decent wank while I’m waiting,” he mumbled after his latest  hopeful look see.

 

“Do you ever think about anything else?” Angel sighed, pushing himself away from the desk, resigned to not being able to hold a pen or hit the computer keys with his overstuffed fingers.

 

“Think about cavemen and how tough they were…”

 

“Astronauts are much tougher – and smarter. Smarter always wins.”

 

“Smarter gets beat up.”

 

“Smarter plus tougher equals winner, Spike. Admit it.”

 

“Nothing tougher than something that has to fight for its existence every day.”

 

“I’m not having this argument again. You’re wrong. Now shut up and go back to trying to play with yourself.”

 

“Nothing to play with,” Spike muttered in an aggrieved tone.  “Just because you had to brass off a puppet-making sorcerer.”

 

There was silence for several peaceful minutes while Angel leaned back in his chair with his eyes shut and Spike sprawled on the couch humming to himself. 

 

“Cavemen,” he whispered.

 

“Astronauts.”  Angel mumbled.

 

“Cavemen.”

 

“Astronauts.”

 

The End

 

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