Yep, my mind went straight there…
Title: Tellin’ Porkies
Characters: Spike, Dawn. Gen. PG for Spike’s bad influence.
Summary: Swine flu is no laughing matter. Post-Chosen.
“This is so, so bad,” Dawn gushed in a way that meant in no way was he meant to stop. “Do mine! Do mine!”
Spike did as he was told and punched the number she gave him into the cell phone. This wasn’t really the way he’d thought he’d bond again with the youngest Summers, but after all the years she’d been ignoring him with the coldest of shoulders, he would settle for what he could get. Besides, whatever his pesky soul might think, it felt good to be a little bit naughty – just this once.
The phone rang. Dawn moved closer, almost clambering over the arm of the chair in order to hear more. She was no longer the teenager he’d missed; the one that didn’t care if his influence wasn’t always a good one or who knew he was a bad man yet liked him anyway, she’d grown from the girl that had kept herself going by keeping him going when her sister was gone; instead this was a woman with the ink still wet on her degree, who had a bright future: a driven career girl who knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Yet, he was glad to see, the girl he’d known was still in there, young and irresponsible enough to get silly with a vampire more than old enough to know better.
“Hello,” a clipped telephone manner finally answered. “Harley Street Surgery Swine Flu Hotline. How can we help you?”
He gave Dawn a brief nod to tell her he’d got through, trying to keep his face as straight as possible to keep the laughter out of his voice. His partner in crime gave him an encouraging thumbs up.
“Uh, hi. I think I have this flu that’s hogging the news,” he said as seriously as he could. He even added some hoarseness to his voice, a hint of a cough to help sell the ruse.
Dawn desperately smothered her laugh with her hands. It came out as an awkward snort through her nose that Spike hoped hadn’t carried down the phone. There was money on this.
There was no reaction but absolute professionalism at the other end of the line. Maybe the woman hadn’t heard. “Can I ask what your symptoms are please?”
“Yeah. I um won’t boar you with all the details, but I’ve been sweating like a pig…”
Dawn’s face crumpled with the strain of not collapsing with the giggles. She grabbed a cushion, buried her face in it and let herself go.
The woman on the hotline wasn’t amused. “Who is this? Do you think you’re funny?”
Spike grinned at Dawn, who emerged from her refuge with tears streaking her cheeks. Knowing what he was aiming to say, she bit the edge of the cushion in readiness.
“Nah, I wouldn’t tell a porker like that.”
The woman slammed her phone down in disgust. Spike sighed; he hadn’t even got to mention the ‘bringing home the bacon’ bit.
“Oh god, that was so funny!” Delighted, Dawn wiped the tears away from her face. “And no mention of ‘oink’ means you lose!”
“Sod it. I made a pig’s ear of that.” Spike fumbled in his pocket for the fiver he owed her and she snatched it from her hand with a grin of pure triumph. “Right then, Nibs. I bet you that you won’t give Andrew a frenchie.” He waggled his tongue in case she had any doubt what he meant.
Dawn paled and thrust the note back at him. “Ugh. You can keep your money.”
Spike plucked it from her fingers, smirking a smirk tinged with a little of the old evil that still lingered in his black vampire heart.
That was the idea.