Chapter 12
She groaned when she heard the doorbell ring. She forced herself up and dragged her feet across the hall to answer it. Rolling her eyes and in a tired, annoyed tone she asked when she saw the bleached teen standing at her doorstep:
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” He was already stepping across the threshold before she had a chance to answer him.
“Be my guest.” She replied sarcastically.
“Are you ok?” He questioned turning to face her.
“As you can see, I’m fine, so if you would just leave…” She said opening the front door, but he didn’t even seem to hear her, entering the living room instead. “Or make yourself at home. Whatever.” She sighed audibly.
“Cookies and cream?” He said picking up the half empty cup of ice-cream. “That bad huh?”
“I like cookies and cream.” She replied gruffly, grabbing the box from the teen’s hands.
“I bet.” Without asking, he plopped down on the couch and started to flip through the channels.
“You’re just here for the cable, aren’t you?” She questioned.
But he wasn’t listening as he intently watched the flickering images on the screen. She sighed loudly and flopped down next to him. After a few seconds she grumbled:
“That’s a stupid game.”
“Stupid? How can you say that? It’s football.” He protested, clearly offended.
“That’s not football, it’s soccer.” She corrected.
“Excuse me. This… magnificent game happens to be played using one’s foot while the ridiculous thing you yanks call football is played with everything *but* one’s foot.” He countered.
“We use our feet!” it was her turn to complain.
“Right.” He piped up sarcastically.
“American football is way cooler than this crap.” She grumbled.
“This crap, as you put it, is the number one sport in every country in the world. This crap is the *real* king of sports.” He continued to argue. “American football, on the other hand, is just a cheap rip off of rugby. Just a bunch of sissy, padded up poofs running around the field trying to get a weird shaped ball through a giant… fork thingy while banging each other’s heads together. And you call that a manly sport, ha!”
Buffy frowned and looked up at him.
“For your information, football is more than trying to get the funny shaped ball through the… giant fork thingy.” She tried to sound convincing, but failed miserably at it. It was clear that she knew nothing about the sport in question.
Spike chuckled.
“What?!”
“You know less about this sport than I do.” He burst out laughing.
Buffy frowned for a second. He was laughing? Spike does something besides smirking and grinning? Snapping out of her thoughts she continued:
“Well, I was never good at any sport so I just never got into it.” She tried to excuse herself. “But I’m sure that our football is better than your English crap.”
He didn’t say anything, simply cocked up a scared eyebrow.
“Oh, alright. So I don’t know anything about sports. Angel tried to explain football to me, but I just didn’t get it.” She confessed.
“Well, I don’t know what I can do about American football, but I think we can remedy your knowledge on soccer if you want to.” He offered.
At that, Buffy simply shrugged. Soon, and after some long and confusing explanations, the duo laid back and watched the match.
“Hey! That referee is cheating. He didn’t do anything.” Buffy shouted at the screen.
“He’s right, luv. Remember about the offside rule?” Spike asked.
“Oh… right.” She pretended to understand.
“You don’t remember, do you?” He chuckled.
“No.” She confessed in a low voice.
“It’s when the ball is passed to a player who is closer his opponents goal line than any other member of the defending team, except for the goal keeper, of course.”
“Oh, yeah. Now I remember.”
They continued to silently watch the game until it was over.
“So… What do you think about football now?” Spike asked, sprawling on the couch.
“It’s ok.” Buffy admitted.
“There is another game on in half an hour. Wanna watch?” The Brit questioned.
“Is Manchester United playing?”
“Nope.”
“No, thanks then.”
“So you became a fan of good old Man U, huh?” Spike said with a smirk.
“Not really. More like a fan of David Beckam’s legs.” Buffy answered with a huge smile.
“Should’ve figure that much. You chits always seem to go for him.” Spike sighed spreading his arms over the edge of the couch.
“Well, you should be going…” She said after an awkward moment of silence.
“What’s the hurry, luv?”
“The fact that my mom should be coming home any minute and even though she thinks you’re gay, she won’t be-“
“You’re mom thinks I’m GAY?!” Spike jumped off the couch and looked at her wide eyed.
“Well… Yes.” Buffy hesitated a bit.
“Why?!” He continued to ask outraged.
Buffy’s mouth moved, opening and closing, but her voice seemed to refuse to leave her throat.
“Well?” A flaming red Brit stared down at her, waiting for an explanation.
“She might have gotten the wrong idea when I told her I was *definitely* not your type.” She finally managed to say.
“You told you’re mom I was gay?” He started to walk around in circles.
“I didn’t tell her you were gay! She just… thought you were… you know…”
“Know what?” He stopped his circling to stare at her.
“Well, you know. The bleached hair…” she waved her hand in the direction of his head. “…and the black nail polish, kinda give out a… certain look.” She stuttered.
“Yeah! A bad ass look, not a GAY look!” He shouted.
“It’s not *my* fault that my mother thinks you’re gay!” she suddenly counterattacked, standing up to defend herself.
“You told her something!” he insisted.
“Or maybe your fashion statement is just screaming: ‘repressed drag queen in the making’.” She snapped, raising her head up high and jutting out her chin in the process.
Spike’s eyes widened, his faced quickly gaining an unhealthy scarlet shade.
“I am NOT gay.” Was the only thing that he could think of to say.
“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.” She started with a mocking tone. “Deep down inside you, you have the real you just screaming to be let out. You will feel better if you embrace your true nature.” At this point Buffy had to pinch herself to stop from bursting out laughing. The panicked look in his eyes was just priceless.
“I’ll show you my true nature.” He growled as he began to chase after her.
They went around the couch a couple of times before switching to the table, jumping over a few chairs and vases. Buffy was chased up the stairs, in and out of her mother’s bedroom, to finally end up in her own room on one side of the bed while her attacker was on the other.
“You-“ She panted wildly, with a huge grin on her flushed face. “…should be-“ Gasp “true to yourself.” She managed to say breathless.
She quickly leaped onto the bed as she saw Spike coming towards her. His arms waved around trying to catch her, but she jumped to the floor, landing on the spot where he had been just moments before. She smiled as she saw him in hers, on the opposite side of the bed.
“Those cigarettes are taking their toll on you, huh?” She asked as he started to couch.
“When” cough “I get my” couch “hands on you, Summers.” He threatened.
Her response was simply to stick out her tongue at him. She restarted running as he suddenly jumped at her across the bed. After a few moments, they were back in the same position on opposite sides of the mattress. Spike stood on the window side having, what looked like, a serious coughing fit.
Buffy panted violently as she watched the Brit turning frightening shades of purple.
“Are you ok?” she managed to ask as she pondered closing the distance between them to help him.
He continued to cough, clinging to his throat as he did so and she decided it was best to move closer. The moment she was in arms reach, he grabbed her.
“You cheating-“ She let out a loud yelp as she felt his grip around her arms. She struggled like a wild cat causing them to lose their balance and end up tumbling onto the bed. “Cheating, bleached bastard.” She said between pants as she let out a small giggle.
“All’s fair in love and war, luv.” He replied, miraculously recovered from his coughing attack.
They remained laying in bed, Spike on top, Buffy beneath him, staring at each other, both panting from the recent exertion. He smiled down at her while she pouted, having been caught.
“That’s cheating!” She repeated, still breathless.
A rebellious blonde strand found its way to cover her face and mouth and she wiggled a little trying to move it. Instinctively, Spike raised his hand and pulled it out of the way while making sure that her arms remained trapped under the burden of his chest.
Out of nowhere, realisation came to them and their closeness became uncomfortably evident. Buffy swallowed hard as she looked up at the boy laying on top of her, whose gaze alternated between her eyes and her pouty lips. Suddenly, breathing became an issue. Her breaths now came in short, difficult pants, not because of the exertion but as a direct consequence of his proximity. Her heart seemed to want to leap out of her chest and her stomach was making those strange flip-flopping motions it usually did when…
In a flash, she was up, pushing him away and causing him to fall flat on his ass in the process. Nervously, she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her flushed face. Once all the strands seemed to be in place, her hands moved toward her clothes to give them the same erratic treatment.
“You- You better go. It’s late and my-“ She started with an unease tone when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “My mom!” She whispered as she immediately went for the door and slammed it shut. “You gotta hide!” She warned him as she frantically looked around to find a place to keep him out of sight. In the meantime, the footsteps became clearer. “The bed! Get under the bed! Now!” she ordered.
She didn’t have to tell him twice. A fraction of a second before the clicking sound of a door being opened was heard he was under the bed and out of sight.
“Hey, honey! You’re still up?” Mrs. Summers asked as she entered the room.
“Yeah!” Buffy answered as she tried to get her breathing under control. “I-I was just getting ready for bed.” She explained nodding as she pressed her lips together. At that her mother frowned.
“Are you ok, honey?” A hint of concern was evident in Mrs. Summers voice.
“I’m fine!” Buffy replied a little too enthusiastically. “I’m fine!” she repeated with more calm.
The teen held her breath, carefully watching the changes in her mother’s facial expressions as she walked around the room. Finally, a soft, understanding smile settled on the older woman’s mouth.
“I know why you’re acting like this.”
“You do?” Buffy asked incredulous as she dared to throw a glance in the bed’s direction to check if Spike was still out of sight.
“Yes.” Mrs. Summers started as she sat down on the bed and patted the mattress next to her for Buffy to take a seat. When the petite blonde did, she continued:
“You’re upset about me going out on a date.”
The teen let out a sigh of relief.
“I know it feels weird now, but you knew it would happen sooner or later. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it and just kind of announced it without any previous warning, but I was worried about how you’d react and I just didn’t know how to tell you. I tried to talk to you over the weekend but… I couldn’t.” Mrs. Summers confessed.
“Oh, that explains the mother/daughter bonding overload.” Buffy realised.
Mrs. Summers smiled and nodded.
“I hope that you can understand that I’m a single woman now. I’ve been alone ever since your dad and I got divorced and I think it’s time to move on now.”
“Don’t worry mom. I’m ok with it.” Buffy said after a moment of silence.
Under the bed, Spike held his breath and tried as hard as he could not to make any noise. He watched as a pair of legs moved away from the bed towards the door. They stopped for a second and he heard Mrs. Summers’ voice:
“Goodnight, Buffy!”
“Goodnight, mom!”
The door was then opened and she was gone.
The teen jumped up as, out of nowhere, Buffy’s head popped under the mattress.
“You gotta get out of here.” She stated as he crawled his way from under the bed.
“No kidding, Einstein.” He grumbled as he patted his duster.
Buffy moved towards the window and opened it.
“Go!” she ordered.
“You want me to jump out the window?!” Spike asked incredulous. “You do realise we’re on the second floor, right?”
“Use the tree, genius.” Buffy replied with an annoyed tone.
“In case you haven’t noticed, the branches have been cut. And unless I’ve miraculously acquired some major Carl Lewis skills, I’ll never make that jump.” Spike countered sarcastically.
Buffy popped her head out the window and noticed that, in fact, the branches had been cut. ‘Damn winter trimming.’ she thought.
“Well, you can’t go through the stairs. My mom will hear you.” She noted as she started pacing around the room.
After a few moments of silence she plopped down on the bed exasperated.
“We’ll just wait for you’re mom to fall asleep.” Spike suggested.
“You don’t know my mother.” Buffy forced a smile on her lips. “Ever since my rebellious pre-teen, middle of the night escapades she has become a true watch dog. She hears *everything*. And I mean everything. One noise from me and she’s at my door.” She sighed as she let her tired body drop from the sitting position to a sprawled out one on top of the mattress.
“I guess I’ll just have to spend the night here.” He said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“You wish!” She spat.
“I don’t actually. With my luck, you probably snore.”
“I do *not* snore!” She replied outraged sitting up on the bed and furrowing her eyebrows.
He simply smirked and leaned on the window as he shoved his left hand into the pocket of his duster and fished out a pack of cigarettes.
“What-“ realising she was speaking a little too loudly she rephrased in a hissing voice: “What are you doing?”
“Having a smoke?” He stated the obvious with the cigarette dangling from his lips as he prepared to light it.
Instantly, Buffy was up and stomping her way over to him, but before she could take the small cylinder from his mouth he grabbed it.
“Oh, no you’re not!” she protested as she jutted out her chin in defiance, looking up at him.
“Oh, come on. I have been smoke-free for two hours now. I need a fag!” he pleaded as he brought his eyebrows together for a painful frown.
“No!” she insisted.
“But-“
“You will not smoke that crap in *my* room, and that’s final.” She was unrelenting.
“Just one, please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
“That’s your problem.” She snapped, turning around and making her way to her bed.
“Bitch.” He murmured.
“I heard that.” She said as she pulled the sheets.
Turning around she eyed him.
“What?” He asked with a furrowed eyebrow.
“Do you mind?” She questioned drawing circles in the air with her index finger signalling him to turn around.
Sighing audibly, the Brit faced the window as he waited for her to get unto her pyjamas. He heard a series of sounds, shuffling and shambling until Buffy’s whisper reached his ears:
“I’m done.”
He turned to catch a glimpse of Buffy’s Yummy Sushi pyjamas as she tucked herself under the sheets and turned off the lights.
Frustrated, he shoved the cigarette into the pack and placed it on her table as he took off his duster. Buffy remained in her bed, eyes partially closed as she pretended to sleep. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, murmuring a string of curses under his breath. He sat on the nearby chair and started to unlace his boots. The socks were off and he was up again, his fingers finding their way under the cotton fabric of his white t-shirt and pulling it over his shoulders. Buffy held her breath as she observed the semi-naked boy under the dim moonlight. She gazed, as if entranced, committing to memory every lean curve and arch of his chest and abdomen. She drew hard breaths into her lungs as he walked in circles for a few seconds, his hand running trough his now dishevelled blond hair, down his shoulder for a quick hug and then settled over his belt and started undoing it. When he continued to unbutton his trousers, Buffy jumped up.
“Wha-What do you think you’re doing?!” She asked in a faltering tone.
“Getting ready for bed?” He once more stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows in confusion.
“You’re not gonna get naked in my room!” She protested but, somehow, her resolve didn’t seem very convincing.
“I always sleep naked.” Seeing the straight line of her mouth he shrugged. “Fine, it’s your bed.”
Buffy didn’t even have time to process what he had just said as he made his way to her and started to pull on the covers.
“WHAT do you think you’re doing?” She repeated loudly as she grabbed as much of the sheets as she could and covered herself.
“Once again – getting ready for bed.” He answered her as he reached for the covered once more.
Quickly, she moved back, dragging the fabric with her.
“Not in *my* bed!” She replied wide eyed.
“I’m supposed to sleep on the floor?”
“Of course!”
“Bloody hell!” He protested. “I’m not-“
A clicking sound was heard followed by footsteps.
“My mom! Quick! Under the bed!” She ordered.
Instantly, Spike dropped and started to crawl under when she hissed:
“Your clothes! Spike!”
He was up and gathering all his things including his boots which he managed to shove under the bed, but by the time he tried to crawl under it himself, the doorknob to the room was being turned. Without a second thought, he threw himself onto the bed. He glued his body against the petite blonde’s in the desperate hope that her mother wouldn’t notice the extra volume under the fluffy covers. Buffy gasped and immediately held her breath she watched the door open and her mom’s head pop in.