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...faitha, faitha faith!
"What
the bloody hell are you watching, Angel?"
Angel pushed the off button on the remote and said casually, "Nothing."
"Pull the other one," Spike smirked. "You were checking out George Michael's arse, you big poof."
Angel glared
at him. "I wasn't, and don't call me a poof."
Turning his back, Spike started wiggling and singing, "Yes, I gotta-"
only to find himself bent over Angel's desk.
"You wanna shake that thing, I can think of a better way," Angel growled
in his ear.
Spike turned his head grinning up at Angel. "I had faith you would."
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