Luxury: Strawberry

by D. M. Evans

Pairing: Dru/Spike
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spike and Dru find themselves a luxurious new toy. Set in 1957.
A/N: This was written for the color_I_fic challenge (which can be found on livejournal under color_I_fic). My challenge was Fanged Four characters and the color Red.

Luxury, they deserved it, Spike thought running his hand over the 1957 Cadillac's strawberry-hued hood. His dark rose's eyes had lit up seeing the thing so he made it hers. If he were human, he could have seen his reflection in the stainless steel roof. This wasn't a car, it was a work of rolling art. Drusilla had a fine eye for beauty. He wondered absently if owning a car built for the super-rich was the ultimate two-finger salute to Stalin and communism, or if McCarthy and his cronies would see it as a reason to persecute the owner. Spike was thinking of taking Drusilla away from this insane country as McCarthy's paranoia swept it but his Dru wanted to come and see the pretty people from the silver screen.

Angelus might have been an ass but he had taught Spike some important things, including the fact they didn't have to kill everyone. Having wealthy, living and totally unaware friends could open doors for them, let them have all the best things in the world without having to work hard for them. That was one of the reasons Spike had agreed to take Dru to Hollywood.

Following Angelus' advice, Spike had sweet talked his way into becoming thick as thieves with Nalick, a former Hollywood producer who had been blacklisted by McCarthy's cronies as a commie. Not that that stopped Nalick from throwing some big parties for his fellow blacklisters and a lot of others brazen enough to not care about such things. There would be a lot of the wealthy and the pretty around. He and Dru would have the times of their unlives. And now they had a beautiful new car to show up at the party in. Spike couldn't wait to see the jealous and appreciative faces.

Dru sat inside the metallic beauty, playing with the built-in Arpege atomizer. Lanvin perfume filled the air as she turned her attention from atomizers to the other cosmetics that were part and parcel of this red chariot of the wealthy. She buried her bare toes in the lamb's wool carpeting, picking at the poodle on her skirt with a little freshly painted frown. Drusilla hated the poodle skirts and sweaters. They offended her classical sensibilities. Spike wanted to try the newest styles. Darla was right. That was one of the best ways to stay hidden. He loved the blue jeans, T-shirts with ciggies rolled up in his sleeves and leather coats. Slicking his hair back took away that soft curliness his hair had, making him less feminine-looking. Oh how he hated Angelus for pointing that out. He'd probably relent soon and let Dru return to her more sedate skirts but for now he was having fun with poodle skirts and bobby socks.

Spike slipped inside, sitting on the crushed velvet seat and made use of the magnetized drink tumbler in the Brougham's glove box. Dru took a cigarette from the car's dispenser and lit it for him.

He leaned back in the seat, seeing buttons on it that he had no idea were for. He blew out a long stream of smoke then took a swig of his cocktail. "Now this is style."

"I love it, Spike." Drusilla flicked a seat's button and the seat moved on its own. "Like magic."

"Anything for you, pet." Spike kissed her then fiddled with the seat himself. It was electric as were the door locks. He had never seen anything like it. "When we go to Nalick's party this weekend, we are arriving like royalty in this."

"Ooo, the music, the people," Drusilla purred in anticipation of their 'Blacklist' party. "All so tasty. Let's go home, Spike." Drusilla trailed a finger along his jaw line.

Spike frowned, playing with her walnut tresses. "It's early, pet."

"I want to watch television," she argued. "You can come back out and play later."

Spike smiled. "Like I said, anything for you." He looked at the floorboards. "Where's the clutch?"

Drusilla ran a languid hand over the leather appointments of the car, a faraway look in her eyes. "Not needed. This is a magical steed, goes all by itself."

Spike didn't want to know what she meant. He looked at the shifter, wondering if she was right about not needing a clutch. He had heard about 'automatics.' He started the car and the huge V-8 engine roared to life. That was the kind of engine that would make a guy hard just listening to it. He figured the 'R' must mean reverse. It felt strange not reaching for a clutch but once they were heading down the highway, he found he didn't miss shifting at all. It even had power steering. It was like driving a child's go-cart.

"Let it go by itself, Spike. I want to see it!" Drusilla ordered as she let her hand 'surf' the wind outside the window.

"What are you on about, Dru?"

She reached over and punched the cruise control button. "The stars told me all about it. Take your foot off the pedal."

Spike obeyed and the car kept moving at its speed. Spike laughed loudly. "Bloody hell! This is amazing."

"Aren't you glad I insisted we eat that naughty little man?"

Spike leaned over for another kiss as his answer. "Um, pet, how do I stop this thing now?"

She pointed at his feet. "Brake."

When they got back to the house they had appropriated, Drusilla didn't linger in the car. Spike wondered what was so exciting on television that Drusilla couldn't wait. She settled into a puddle of poodle on the couch, staring intently at the box.

Spike's brow wrinkled. "The Ed Sullivan Show? Drusilla, you made me rush back for this?"

"Not him. Him!" Drusilla pointed to the singer coming out on Sullivan's stage. "He is so beautiful. I must have him."

Spike groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Not him again. Dru, I have no idea what you see in that man."

"Hips," she replied honestly and Spike glowered, not that she noticed. Dru twisted on the couch and looked at him. "We should go to one of his concerts. Miss Edith really wants to, Spike."

"I am not taking you to an Elvis Presley concert, Dru," Spike grumbled and her bottom lip trembled. "You'll want to turn him and then I'll be stuck training the prat. He probably has an ego that makes Angelus look tame."

"But I want to hear him. We won't touch him. Miss Edith and I promise." Drusilla turned her huge blue eyes on him. How was he supposed to resist that?

Spike sighed. "All right, all right." He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I'm going out to play with the car. You enjoy Elvis."

Drusilla went back to watching TV and Spike left. He ran a hand over the knife's edge of a tail fin. This car truly was a beauty. Let Dru have her Elvis for a night. He had his new toy. He'd come back for her in an hour. As fun as driving the car was, it wasn't quite the same without Drusilla at his side. Spike rectified that as soon as he could.

"Where to, Pet?"

Drusilla leaned over and whispered in his ear, taking time to suckle a lobe while she was there. Spike smiled and gunned the engine.

"I love how you think."

Spike drove to the local make-out point, a place he had made sure he knew where to find in advance. What was more delicious than hormone-riddled blood? A handful of parked cars littered the wooded grove. Spike parked his new baby under an oak tree then went around to open Dru's door. He took her hand and helped her out.

"Where to start?"

Drusilla just smiled and headed for the nearest coupe. They made it quick so there was less noise. No sense in alerting all the other tasties to the danger. The last couple weren't so lucky. The vampires made sport of them, dragging them out of the car, letting them run as if there was a chance they could escape. The chase was even better than the kill. Spike snared the coat off his prey then scooped up Drusilla, carrying her back to their car.

Spike laconically dragged himself up over the front seat to put a cocktail class on the magnetic tumbler while Dru's fingers massaged his sweat-slicked backside. He glanced over his shoulder at where she lay loose-limbed on top of the letterman's jacket he had put down between them and the lush velvet back seat. He grinned. Had there even been a woman more beautiful?

"Roomy," she purred, stretching on the large bench seat.

"Told you, Pet, this is the height of luxury." He leaned down and kissed her. "You deserve nothing less."

- fin -

A/N: Yes, this particular car did indeed have all the luxuries described including the cruise control and electronic memory seats which is pretty darn amazing for 1957.

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