A belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the wonderful zoesmith! Here's a present for you!

Title: His Moodiness
Pairing: Angel/?
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Working at Wolfram and Hart puts Angel in a bad mood. How bad? Well...that depends on the day...




Pissy

Harmony’s unicorn glares him in the face with an evil smile. Checking first to make sure that no one else is around, Angel growls back at it.

He hates Monday mornings. Everything is so much more evil. It’s like evil took the weekend off and has to make up for its absence on Monday morning.

Which puts Angel in a pissy mood automatically. As if Monday mornings weren’t bad enough.

The sound of someone, especially a certain blonde someone, snickering makes Angel spin around and snarl.

Taking the golden opportunity presented, the wooden unicorn dives off the top of Harmony’s computer and plunges straight towards Angel’s unsuspecting chest, horn first.

Someone’s gotta pick up the pace of evil around here since Harmony obviously can’t.

At the last possible second, Angel turns around and bats it aside. It hits the wall behind the desk just as a bubbly cheerful Harmony steps out of the elevators.

“BOSSY!” she screeches in horror, watching her prized possession splinter and crumble to the ground.

Angel winces, knowing that she’ll be screeching in revenge at him for the rest of the day.

Later, when he walks out of the office, he finds a huge marker board placed in front of Harmony’s desk. On it, someone has written “Today the boss feels…” and drawn a whole lot of caricatures of his face in various moods. The “Pissy” one was circled.

He growls and turns to demand an explanation from Harmony, noticing the new evil, smug unicorn adorning her desk.

“What the hell is that?”

Harmony scowls and ignores him.

“That, Peaches,” Spike chimes in gleefully from behind him, “is a way to keep track of your moods.”

“My employees are not retarded like you, Spike,” Angel shoots back. “They can read my moods off my face.”

Spike chuckles. “I know you’re a stingy git but don’t you think you can spare more than three expressions for all your bloody moods?”

Pissy is about to tip over to murderous rage.

Angel refuses to leave the moral high ground. Instead, he chooses to stalk back into his office and slam the door.

He needs serious nookie therapy to recover from this.


Constipated

Angel hates Tuesdays slightly less than Mondays. At least, the unicorn doesn’t try to kill him on Tuesdays.

He almost wishes it does.

“Pleeeease,” he whines on the phone, “I’ve been having a really shitty week.”

“You know the rules. ‘Sides, it’s only been two days into the week…”

Angel pouts. “One day here is like a whole freakin’ century!”

Before the other person could reply, the doors nearly get torn off their hinges. In storms an angry Slayer with a flailing, helpless Harmony behind her.

“Buffy,” Angel breathes, trying to sound like a tortured, star-crossed Romeo to her Juliet.

It wouldn’t do for her to find out that he’s moved on. Given his luck and the fact that it’s Tuesday, he’s liable to get staked by her if she does.

“You bastard!” she hisses. “You never told me that Spike was back!”

Angel frowns. She had only come for Spike?

Unnoticed, Harmony races out to capture the boss’s mood on the marker board. Constipated sounds about right.

“Buffy…” Angel murmurs again for lack of a better response.

Luckily, the bane of his existence saves his ungrateful ass.

“Buffy!”

“Spike!” Quicker than a squirrel can a climb a tree, Buffy throws herself at the blonde vampire and tries to climb inside his mouth.

If possible, Angel looks even more constipated than before, Harmony notes as she aims inquisitive glances at the office from her post.

Halfway through the hello with tongue, Spike opens his eyes and darts a triumphant gaze at Angel. The older vampire barely restrains himself from ripping the two lovebirds apart.

Buffy finally pulls away for much needed air and proceeds to drag Spike away with her without a backwards glance.

Angel’s anger drains away with their disappearance, leaving his constipated look firmly in place. He picks up his phone again but his lover has hung up.

Great. He isn’t going to get any nookie tonight.


Fearful

Arriving at the office, Angel quickly barricades himself inside. Wednesdays are frightening.

Last time, it was his dead sister Kathy. Who knows who it may be today?

Twinkling laughter alerts him to the fact that he’s not alone.

Angel groans. Of all the…

“Hello, Daddy,” Drusilla whispers behind him.

“Dru,” he manages weakly.

“Princess has been good all year. Mayhap she be allowed to play now?” Drusilla looks at him hopefully with large, innocent eyes.

This is a test, Angel thinks desperately. He’s not going to fail.

Drusilla suddenly smiles slyly. “Or does Daddy want to play instead?”

She trails a finger down his chest and brushes gently against his hardening erection.

With a shriek, Angel leaps away from her. I must not sin, I must not sin, he repeats to himself.

Drusilla follows him around hungrily, like a predator, like the predator he made her.

Angel’s soul battles his unruly cock as his cock takes notice of how well she remembers her lessons. He’s afraid that it may be a losing battle as he hasn’t gotten any in a while and he’s weak where his libido is concerned.

It was such a hardship to abstain for one whole century. Then again, he didn’t become all tortured and broody for no reason.

Angel panics as Drusilla sways closer. His pristine image and reputation are about to be blown to shreds.

But, his barricaded doors get blown to shreds first and Spike, his unwilling rescuer, charges in once again.

Jesus Christ, is Spike like the new rescuer of vamps in distress or something?

Angel feels another bolt of fear shoot up his spine. Drusilla will disappear with Spike, along with his chance of nookie, off to God knows where. If only his erection could disappear so readily.

With a warning glare that read “I’m watching you,” Spike grabs Drusilla’s hand and yanks her out the office.

Sighing, Harmony shakes her head sadly as she watches her panic-stricken boss stumble out his office. “Fearful,” she marks on the poster board.

He so needs to get laid, she thinks to herself.


Murderous

The whole office trembles. It’s Thursday and everyone knows what usually happens on Thursdays.

Beheadings. Lynchings. All and every form of execution.

Angel isn’t too choosy though he does like to be original.

Harmony arrives extra early this morning. She dutifully circles “Murderous” on the poster board, already knowing what mood Angel will be in today, but carefully tucks the board behind her desk and out of the sight.

Then, with hesitation and reluctance, she removes her unicorn from its usual perch and gently places it in a drawer. It looks a bit miffed at not being able to take part in any evil or mayhem for the day.

Exactly at nine, the boss shows up, the air of menace trailing behind him. He’s impatient and snappy and Harmony doesn’t dare to be her usual self.

Spike doesn’t exactly share the same sentiments as her and the rest of the office. He barges in as usual, throwing himself down on a chair with a smirk.

That is, until Angel looks at him.

A distinctly Angelus-like gleam is in those suddenly malevolent dark eyes. Spike shifts a little uncomfortably.

“Only one more day…” Angel whispers liltingly.

Spike gulps and decides fleeing may not be so demeaning for a Master vampire after all.

Before noon, Angel kills and savors the kills of three employees. He takes so long that Harmony keeps having to push back his other appointments.

So inconsiderate, she thinks to herself as she battles deadly demons and their equally deadly secretaries on the phone, trying to explain the situation. Nobody seems to get the fact that it’s Thursday at Wolfram and Hart!

When the noises – if they can really be called noises – finally stop, a trembling Harmony knocks on the door and offers to bring in some blood but Angel declines the offer.

The power – it’s almost better than nookie, Angel thinks.

Later that afternoon, he makes himself personally write letters of the demise of these evil employees to their not so evil families.

He feels shitty but when he crawls into bed that night, his lover comforts him about doing the right thing and all, and he changes his mind.

This…this is better than nookie.


Frustrated

Angel is a walking hard on. Today, today is the day!

He’s thrilled and yet, frustrated at the thought.

Shuffling into the office, he notices Harmony’s low cut shirt really displays her cleavage nicely. With a soft groan, he retreats inside quickly.

Like a bloodhound, Spike shows up at Harmony’s desk as he trails the scent of Angel lust.

“How’s the poof doing?”

Harmony taps the poster board. “Frustrated as usual. Don’t know why since it is Friday. You’d think he’d need a vacation from his grumpiness.”

Spike just chuckles and heads into the office uninvited.

Angel growls, eyes turning golden. “What do you want?”

“A PSIII, a Wii – hell, I’m not too bloody picky!” Spike announces with a shit eating grin.

“Fuck you!”

Spike rubs his crotch teasingly, smirking at the way Angel’s eyes track his movements as if hypnotized.

“No,” he whispers and saunters out of the office, his Angel baiting done for the day.

Angel throws a book after the blonde, already conjuring up all sorts of images of himself doing just that. It isn’t helping with his erection.

12:45pm

Angel swears that the clocks are designed to maximize his suffering. They are so evil, doing their little ticking and tocking like evil clucking chickens.

He takes out his frustration on them.

1:39pm

“What time is it, Harmony?” he yells.

“If you hadn’t broken the clock, you’d know, boss!”

He bangs his head on his desk in frustration.

2:53pm

“Is it five yet?” he grounds out.

“Nope,” his bubbly secretary informs him cheerfully.

She’s evil too, he thinks.

He looks at his frustrated erection. Maybe he can batter her to death with it.

Or better yet, just “stake” her.

3:17pm

“It is not time to get off work yet,” Harmony reports from the intercom, a little too gleefully.

“I didn’t ask!” he snarls. He rips the intercom off his desk and hurls it at the wall.

It smashes into a billion pieces but it doesn’t help calm his frustration.

Fuming, he stalks to his door, opens it and screams, “I’m the boss and I say when it’s time to get off work and I say that time is now!”

Without waiting for a reply, he runs to the elevator and hops in. If anything even remotely tries to keep him from getting his nookie, it will get violent.

Thankfully, he arrives without incident. He races into the bedroom, ripping off his clothes along the way.

Diving into his bed, he kisses his way up his naked lover’s body.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s the weekend,” Angel yells almost desperately.

“Oh, is that right?”

“It is!” Angel shouts. “Weekends officially start after work on Fridays!”

“Well…according to the rules – “

“Fuck the rules! Never thought you’d be one to stick to them, Spike.”

“Only when it’s your soul in question.”

Angel nearly weeps. “Please, Will. It’s only one day!”

“No, bloody no. You ‘member what Percy said?”

Angel gives up. This is so horrible. He tries curling up into a little ball but his erection is too uncomfortable in that position.

“Hush now, luv,” Spike murmurs soothingly while pulling Angel into a hug. “It’s just one more day.”

“Why does the spell have to be performed on the weekend after a whole month of unhappiness?”

“Don’t know, Peaches. But by this time tomorrow, the curse will be lifted and we can shag all we bloody want.”

As images of shagging floated into mind, Angel’s expression lifted suddenly like a little boy confronted with lots of presents on Christmas day.

“In any position?”

“What?”

“Can I take you in any position I want tomorrow, after the spell?”

Spike chortles. “Of course, pet.”

Angel groans again. “I need a cold shower,” he says as he rolls off the bed with one last longing glance.

The shower…the answer to the needs of all frustrated vamps.

As soon as the water turns on, Spike grabs the phone to finish his conversation before Angel interrupted.

“You know, you’re a sadistic git,” Wesley admits with reluctant admiration.

Spike chuckles. “Yeah, who knew the old man had it in him?”

“Really, a whole month? Don’t you think that’s unnecessarily…cruel?”

Spike gloats. “Told you his moodiness loved me more than Buffy.”

“Very well, I concede the point. Are you really going to wait until tomorrow to…test out the curse?”

The blonde hesitates. “Are you sure it bloody worked?”

“Yes, Spike. I’ve tested it out ten times in the past month. Now, if you’ll excuse me, unlike certain CEOs, I have work to do.”

Spike laughs genuinely. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Percy. Fred’s not gonna appreciate it.”

Hanging up, Spike contemplates all the things he and Angel will be doing tomorrow.

Suddenly, heaviness settles into Spike’s joints. He shrugs it off as Angel steps out of the shower.

He’s got better things to be concentrating on.

Tomorrow…is so close.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Wesley has the most unsettling sensation. He opens the book to the spell and scans it again.

There’s a line that he comes across that he’s never seen before…

The gypsy curse cannot be abolished; it can only be transferred to another.

Oops, looks like there isn’t going to be nookie after all.