Chapter 34
She entered the room just in time to see Spike exiting through the other door. Buffy trotted after him, a frown and a pout set on her face.
“Where’re you going?” she tried to sound nonchalant about it, jogging down the stairs and stopping to lean on the railing as she watched him head toward the kitchenette.
“Breakfast. I’m hungry.” He answered, opening the refrigerator door.
She didn’t say anything, taking the last step of the staircase and wandering into the living room. Plopping down on the couch, she pretended not to notice the metallic noises coming from the tiled room as she brought her hand to her mouth to lightly nibble at her cuticles. After a few moments, a delicious aroma of fried eggs reached her nose and she wasn’t able to resist throwing a glance in Spike’s direction. She found him standing in front of the stove, his t-shirt-clad back turned to her.
“What are you doing?” She finally gave up and asked, standing to walk over to the counter and take a seat on one of the stools there.
“Breakfast.” He replied, stepping aside to reveal a simple omelette on a clean plate. “Want some?”
Her mouth watered at the sight and smell of it, but her pride stopped her from showing any signs of it. Her mind dwelled over how, just a minute ago, he had broken away from her, leaving her alone in her room. Her pout returned to her lower lip at the recent memory.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” She answered, defiantly titling her chin upwards and wrinkling her nose.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and walked into the living room to sprawl on the couch.
They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity as Spike munched on his break fast, apparently completely oblivious to the little, pissed blonde loudly tapping her nails on the counter. Suddenly, she stood up and announced:
“I’m gonna take a shower.”
Spike smirked to himself as he watched her angrily stomp her way up the stairs.
~+~
Buffy walked around in circles in her bedroom, her wet hair tumbling down her back as her fingers fidgeted with the sleeves of her read turtleneck sweater.
She resisted the urge to enter his room and check if he was still there. She was sure she had heard a door opening when she had finished her shower and was combing her hair in front of the foggy mirror. Her heart had raced in her chest as she made her way to her bedroom, confident that she would find him there, maybe laying naked in her bed, ready to beg her forgiveness. She turned the knob as a thousand fantasies ran through her mind. They were all shattered when she found the room empty.
A strange mixture of anger and disappointment made her chest heavy and caused her throat to tighten a bit. She hated this horrible feeling of insecurity she had around him. She never knew what to expect from him. He was so volatile; so sweet and desperate one moment, so smug and cocky the next.
She let out a deep sigh and headed out of her room. Letting her feet drag along the steps, she made her way downstairs. She felt her breath catching in her chest and she brought her hand to cover her mouth when she saw an incredible breakfast set on the table. There was a larger platter, where five or six scoops of a variety of jelly and jams were placed in a circular shape. Next to it was a small mound of pancakes topped with what looked like maple-syrup. Her finger lingered over her lips as she scanned the table to find a bowl, filled with an assortment of different fruits, which hid itself behind a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Finally, placed in the centre of a white plate was a single red rose.
“Oh, my God.” She breathed.
“I was wondering when you were gonna come down.”
She jumped up, a bit startled by the voice that came from behind her. She turned to see him leaning on the railing of the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, the trademark grin dancing on his lips. He had put on his red shirt over the t-shirt, the worn-out black jeans and combat boots completing the outfit.
“Hungry yet?” He asked, taking a step closer to her.
“Oh, my God.” She mouthed again, her gaze bouncing from Spike to the table and back again.
“You’ve said that already.” His smile grew wider.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” He raised a scarred eyebrow.
“Well…” She tilted her head towards the table.
“Oh, that’s not for you.” He said coolly.
An immediate frown settled over Buffy’s eyebrows as her mouth fell open but, before she could say anything, he had his arms wrapped around her waist and his lips were on hers. She didn’t even bother to struggled, letting his tongue sweep over hers while his hand came to cup her cheek. When he pulled away from her, a breathless Buffy swatted him across the chest, causing him to jump up.
“Ouch! What was that for?” He asked between chuckles.
“Evil.” She spat and immediately pouted.
“Very.” He agreed with a lascivious grin before giving her a light peck on the lips and turning her around to face the table. “Now eat! You’re too skinny.” He commanded, pulling out the chair for her.
“Hey!” Was her feeble protest as her eyes landed on the feast laid out before her. She was starving, but was still able to pick up the rose and take a quick whiff before setting it aside and taking her fork and knife into her hands. “Where did you get that rose from?”
“You haven’t been out back, have you?” Spike’s lips curled sideways as he watched shake her head while hungrily shovelling a large piece of pancake into her mouth.
“There’s a small rose bush there. Not in very good shape though, since we’re not here to water it or anything, but amazingly it has survived.”
A moment of silence passed by as Spike continued to stare at her with a grin on his face.
“Wha’?” The word came out almost unintelligible, muffled by the large quantity of food filling her mouth.
“Nothing.” He replied propping his head on his hand and eyeing her.
She chewed quickly, swallowing the large lump before asking guiltily:
“I look like a pig, don’t I?”
“No.” He answered truthfully as she continued to eat.
“This tastes wonderful.” She managed to say between bites. “Where did you learn to make these?” She questioned pointing at the pancakes with her fork.
“My da taught me.” He answered still gazing blindly at her.
“They’re delicious.”
She quickly devoured the three pancakes, using up all the jams in front of her. In the end, she downed the rest of the orange juice, settling back on the chair and tapping her stomach.
“Satisfied?” The simple question came out dripping with innuendo.
“Maybe.” She let her lips curl for a wicked smile that made his mouth water.
He grinned back at her, but said nothing as he began to pick up the table and headed for the kitchenette. She quickly followed him, watching him as he stopped at the sink and pulled up his sleeves before starting to wash the dishes.
“So…” He started, his eyes never leaving the soapy water in front of him. “Are we… ok?”
“We’re ok.” She answered as she sat on the stool.
“Good.” He said in a low voice.
Another moment of silence filtered by before he questioned again:
“I’m sorry. I have a tendency of getting my foot in my mouth.”
“I’ve noticed.” She smiled picking at a grape and popping it into her mouth.
“How can you still eat?” He asked astonished. “You just ate three huge pancakes and now you’re eating fruit?”
She pouted and he felt his heart leap to his throat. God, he loved it when her lip jutted out like that! Just made him want to… He shook his head and returned to his task, but it proved near impossible when he felt her small hands worm around his waist and her chest press against his back as she placed a light peck over his red-clad shoulder blade. He inhaled sharply when she pulled away, stepping up next to him to pick up a nearby towel and began drying the dishes.
“So…” She started a bit hesitant, her heart skipping a beat when he turned to look at her. “Have you been told a lot of times?”
He frowned and glanced at her again to find her with her gaze buried in the plate she was drying.
“Been told what, luv?”
“About… you know… being good at…” She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes to find him semi-grinning back at her. “Oh, come on. You’re not gonna make me say it, are you?”
He sighed audibly. He knew eventually they would have to have the inevitable “exes conversation”.
“A few times.” He tried to avoid the specific numbers but wasn’t able when she quickly piped up:
“How many?”
“Buffy…”
“What?” She asked innocently.
“Do you really wanna get into that?”
“It’s just a question, Spike.” She noted.
“Two.” He answered.
A light smile settled on her lips as relief washed over her. “Just Dru?”
He frowned for a second, then, realising her assumption, he corrected. “Three, counting you.”
“Oh…” The disappointment clear in her voice.
There was a moment of silence and he could hear the unasked question hovering all around him, shouting in his ear. Finally, he sighed and murmured:
“There was a girl back home.” He paused and added. “Cecily.”
She didn’t say a thing, her eyes still on the towel she fumbled with as she waited for him to pass her something to dry.
“What about you?” He questioned, anxious to take the attention off of him.
“Angel… and you.” She replied with her head bowed.
Instinctively, Spike’s teeth clenched and unclenched at the answer.
There was an extremely uncomfortable silence between them, until Buffy flung the towel over her shoulder and sighed:
“This is ridiculous. So we both had someone in the past. One of us more that the other but…It’s ridiculous.” She said nonchalantly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” She insisted, but inside she could feel her stomach turning at the thought of him with someone else.
“It doesn’t really matter how many there were before as long as you know that all I want now is you.” He quickly dried his hangs on his shirt and stepped closer to her. “You do know that, right?”
She nodded and gave him a smile as he leaned in and took her lower lip into his mouth. His hands circled around her waist to meet at the small of her back and bring her closer to him. They pulled away instantly at the sound of a metallic key turning in a lock.
“Buffy!” She heard her mother call out.
“Over here.” She shouted giving Spike’s pout an ‘I’m sorry’ look before throwing the towel over the dried dishes and walking around him to meet her mother. “Mom, what did you do? Buy all the food in the supermarket?” She questioned when she saw her mother standing at the door with four plastic bags dangling from each hand.
“Could you two please go help Rupert out?” She asked walking into the kitchenette.
The two teens walked out to find Giles standing by the car, the trunk open to reveal itself completely stuffed with shopping bags.
“Is she ok? I told her not to take so many.” He said a bit worried.
“She’s fine.” Buffy smiled as she scanned the groceries.
~+~
“When do you think we should tell them?” Spike asked as he sat on the table with Buffy watching the older couple clumsily walk around in the small kitchenette as they prepared the Christmas Eve supper.
“Tell them?” She asked sitting up straight.
“About us?” Spike tilted his head towards her.
“Oh…” She said with a perfectly ‘O’ shaped mouth as leaned on the table; her fingers tracing odd patterns on the wood. “Could we sort of wait for the end of the festivities?”
“Why?” Spike questioned with a frown.
“I don’t know. Might be kinda traumatic for your dad to find out you’re not gay.” She giggled when she saw the outraged look on his face. Trying hard not to laugh she swallowed and continued, letting her hand discreetly rest on his: “I’m sorry.” She pushed her lips together in a frustrated attempt to stop from smiling: “I just think it would be kinda weird for you to… go back into the closet on Christmas Eve.”
“Weird? It would be a relief. I’m getting really tired of all this gay-talk. I am not gay.” He insisted between clenched teeth, careful not to be heard by the couple still busy in the kitchen. “I think I proved that last night.” He added, leaning into her and running his tongue over his lips suggestively.
“Conceited much?” She asked raising an eyebrow at him.
“Will you two stop yapping and come help us?” Joyce’s voice carried into the living room as she stirred a large pot on the stove.
The two teens sighed, standing up to walk over to the counter.
“I don’t think the four of us fit in there.” Spike noted with a hint of satisfaction.
“You can wipe that grin off your face and start cutting the garlic.” Giles announced with a forced smile and he set a chopping board and a knife on the counter with a thud.
“Oh, da. I hate garlic.” Spike sulked out.
“Poor, Spikey.” Buffy mocked with a smirk.
“And you, young lady, can chop the onions.” Joyce commanded handing her a knife and a basin filled with onions.
“Mom!” Buffy protested.
“Finely chopped.” Her mother interrupted as she turned her attention back to the stove.
“Don’t you dare say a thing.” The blonde teen said with a threatening tone, waving the knife at Spike as he tried to suppress a chuckle.
~+~
The four moved awkwardly in the small space, tripping over each other as they tried to get their respective tasks done.
“Can you three just stand still for a second?” Joyce finally snapped, sighing audibly. “I knew that making this dinner together was a mistake.”
“What? We’re helping. It’s not our fault that the kitchen is miniscule.” Buffy pouted as she tried to squeeze between her mother and Spike to reach the condensed milk on the other side of the room.
The bleached teen’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as he felt her chest press against his back. God, she had to be doing that on purpose! In the one hour they had been in the confined space she had brushed up against him at least five times and it was becoming almost impossible to keep his hands away from her. All he thought about was grabbing her and kissing her breath away right then and there, in front of both their parents. Appearances be damned! He sighed and eyed his father and Joyce as he quickly adjusted himself through his jeans before returning to beating the egg whites.
“When I bought this cabin I wasn’t exactly planning on having big dinner parties.” Giles excused himself as he finally managed to exit the kitchenette. “I’ll go get some more firewood from the basement.” He announced before leaving.
“Are these ok, Joyce?” Spike inquired swallowing hard as Buffy brushed up against him once again on her way back. ‘Little tease! Just wait until tonight.’
The older woman threw a glance at the bowl Spike held in his hands and nodded:
“That’s great, Spike. Just put those over there.” She pointed at the nearest available surface.
The teen brushed his hands against his shirt and asked, “Anything else I can do?”
“Could you set the table?”
“Sure.” He agreed as he picked up the towel and headed for the living room.
An hour later a warm fire burned in the fireplace as the four finally sat around the table devouring the mountain of food that spread out in front of them.
“This is delicious, honey.” Giles froze as the last word left his mouth. He looked around, expecting to find disgusted looks on both teenagers’ faces and was surprised when there was absolutely no reaction from either. He frowned a bit at the oddity. Maybe they were coping with the idea of there parents being an item. He continued to observe as the two shovelled absurd quantities of food into their mouths. ‘Or maybe they’re just too hungry to hear anything.’
“Thank you.” Joyce replied with a smile as she followed Rupert’s gaze and watched the teens barely inhale between bites.
“So… when do we open the presents?” Giles tried to start up a conversation.
“Buffy and I usually open them on Christmas morning. It’s tradition.” Joyce replied when she realised her daughter was too busy eating to answer.
“Christmas morning it is.”
“Hey, don’t I get a say?” Spike protested looking up from his plate for the first time since he had sat down. “We always do it at midnight.”
Giles frowned and gave his son a disapproving look.
“What?” Spike asked, completely oblivious to his father’s deadly stares.
Giles simply shook his head and sighed.
“Fine. We’ll open them on Christmas morning.” Spike resigned to the idea returning his attention to his plate.
~+~
The rest of the night went on uneventfully as the four moved from the table to sit on the couch near the warmth of the fireplace. Initially, there had been some discomfort and lack of subject but, little by little the conversation started up and soon the four were shouting at the top of their lunges as they discussed which cuisine was best, the American or the English.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss out of it. The point is that the Americans simply don’t *have* gastronomic traditions.” Giles argued as he lay back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other as he sipped from his brandy.
“Of course we have gastronomic traditions.” Buffy said confidently then looked up at her mother to quickly ask: “Right?”
“Yes.” Her mother replied with a smile, running her hand through her daughter’s hair who sat on the floor at her feet. “What about apple pie?”
“It’s not even American. Or do you really think that the rest of the world didn’t have apple pie until you Yankees thought of it?” Giles countered.
“Yeah.” Spike spoke up from his stop on the carpet, laying on his back, propped up on his elbows. “All you have are burgers and even those are a bloody German rip-off.”
“What about that ‘angis’ thing?” Buffy’s nose wrinkled up as her facial muscles contracted in disgust. “You guys eat entrails stuck in a sheep’s stomach! Yuck!”
“It’s haggis! And that’s Scottish, luv!” Spike corrected with a chuckle, which earned him a swat across the arm from the petite blonde. “Hey!”
“I don’t care what you say; hotdogs are ten times better that fish and chips wrapped in an old newspaper.” Buffy retorted crossing her arms over her chest.
“Don’t knock it till you try it, pet.” Spike said in a mocking tone.
“Well, whatever your preferences are, I think its time for bed.” Mrs. Summers said as she yawned.
“Smooth, mom, very smooth.” Buffy chuckled turning to face Joyce.
“It’s four am.” Her mother replied. “Come on. Up you go.”
Reluctantly, Spike and Buffy stood up and, after saying there goodbyes headed up the stairs. The moment they reached the top and were well out of sight Buffy found herself pinned against the nearest wall, Spike’s body crushed against hers. She let out a little yelp which was quickly muffled when his mouth smashed against hers for a bruising and ravenous kiss. Her eyes went wide as his hands moved erratically over every inch of her, one pushing under her sweater to knead her breast while the other slipped around her to gruffly cup her ass and force her pelvis against his.
Buffy gasped, looking up breathless at him when he pulled away from her.
“What was that for?” She asked when she was finally able.
“What did you think? That I would let you tease and taunt me like that all afternoon and there wouldn’t be any consequences?” He leered dangerously at her, both his hands resting on the wall, on either side of her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t even try to sound convincing as she smirked at him.
“You little vixen! You’ve were purposely brushing up against me every time you had a chance.”
“What can I say? I just love that face you make.” She mocked.
“What face?”
“You know. That…” She rolled her eyes a bit before closing them hard, clenching and unclenching her teeth as she held her breath in a successful attempt to imitate his reaction before relaxing her muscles and adding: “…face.”
“I do not.” He denied vehemently.
“Of course you do. You were doing it in the car all the way over here.” She threw him a teasing look before pushing herself off the wall and walking over to her room.
“You were doing it on purpose?!” He asked outraged as her went after her blocking her passage.
“I know…” She took a step towards him and ran one single finger down his chest. “… I was really a bad girl.” She said in a semi-childish tone.
“Really, really bad girl.” He repeated with a grin.
“And now I have to be punished.” She continued looking up at him from under heavy eyelids, a wicked smile on her lips.
“Yes you do.” He agreed closing the distance between them and leaning into her.
“So, what’s it going to be?” She breathed as his closeness started to interfere with her ability to speak.
“You get to sleep…” He began in a low voice, but suddenly stepped away from her and added: “…alone. Goodnight, Buffy.”
Before she could say anything he had walked past her, made his way to his bedroom door and disappeared from the hallway.