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Spike's Journal

Spike's Journal

Spike's Journal

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Spike Red
Here we are… only about an hour from Heathrow, thank bloody goodness!

Airplane seats are designed by Felcram Spawn and their knees bend in a completely different direction than mine. Wes is prosing on about the stupidity of serving coffee in such small cups and my stomach feels like my ribs are about to make an acquaintance with my back bone.

I’m hungry, and the airplane breakfast of rubber eggs and grease sticks masquerading as sausage is not what I’m craving.

Was a time that I’d just slip off to the loo, drag one of the hostesses in with me… and not all of them would have been unwilling… and have a quick bite and a slurp, drain her completely and be back in my seat in 15 minutes or so with no one the wiser.

Wouldn’t do that now, of course, but none of them would miss a pint or two.

Right. No more thinking about that. Harris is picking us up at the airport and, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t much like me, he’ll have made arrangements… mostly because he does like Wes.

And Wes, likes him.

Now that’s a thought.

Man’s been pretty fuckin’ miserable since Angel dumped us. Only so much I can make up for, even as good as I am. Wes just seems to be happier and more comfortable in a threesome. It’s like… he needs to see himself reflected back in more than a single pair of eyes before he actually believes that he’s worth something.

So… Wes likes Xan.

I don’t, but…

I have to admit I’ve seen possibilities in him. I could probably bring him around without too much argument. He’s not totally indifferent, no matter what he claims. *eg*

‘Course, it doesn’t *have* to be Xander. Could be someone else… Anyone really, that I think Wes might be attracted too.

Well, anyone but that Andrew berk. Kid is cute but he’d drive us all insane in a week.

But, yeah… that’s a plan. I’m satisfied. Find us a third, and settle. Happy Wes means shagable Wes… and shagable Wes means happy me.
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