21.
The night passed in a haze of soft, sweet kisses and delirious whispers. In the depths of sleep or dozing on the tiptoes of consciousness, Buffy finally rested. With Spike by her side she could breathe easy. Her lungs no longer felt constricted. Where once she’d had to struggle to unclench her fists from the prison of her pillow, now her fingers lay flat between springtime fresh sheets and the smooth muscled contours of a sleeping vampire.
Hours later, Buffy roused from a restful sleep with a smile on her lips, a breathy giggle wasn’t far behind. Once again the bed smelled like Spike. She rolled over and stretched out a hand in search of him but found only wrinkled linens. “Spike?” No answer. She looked around her room and blinked herself to awareness. Her eyes drifted to the weapons chest where Spike’s leather duster had been folded on top. It was gone. Time to wake up.
“Spike?”
Buffy grabbed her bathrobe. It was daylight and he couldn’t have gotten far; if he wanted to, that is. She hoped he hadn’t wanted to. There was a sewer entrance located two houses over but he didn’t know that. At the top of the stairs her fleeting thoughts stopped. She heard sounds in the kitchen: some humming, assorted indecipherable lyrics and a growly, throaty imitation of what could have been a guitar solo or maybe a bass. The soft beeps from the microwave calmed her. Spike was content for the time being and she had a pressing call.
After a needed pit stop in the bathroom, Buffy headed downstairs. In the kitchen doorway she paused and leaned into the door frame. Spike’s hair was sleep tossed. He wore his leather coat and his jeans and was busy organizing plates of food.
Barefoot and sexy and in the kitchen, what a lovely picture.
“Morning, sweet thing.” His smile was dazzling.
“Ugh. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a morning person?”
“What can I say? I woke up and you were dead to the world. Thought I’d have a look about and get some nosh going.”
“Uh huh.” Buffy opened her mouth in a gigantic yawn.
“We really need to fetch my tunes at some point. You do realize that all you have here is a pile of CDs with a bunch of pouting tossers on them. Oh, and Bette Midler? Isn’t that a little too easy listening for you, Slayer?” Buffy had to admit she’d been a bit lax as far as new CD purchases went. In her defense, it had been difficult to elbow her way around Spike to get to the stereo. She’d developed a tolerance of sorts for Spike’s more muscular music. Ear plugs were a valued ally in that pursuit.
“Hey, Bette Midler’s good! If I can listen to the Ramones, you can put up with her.” Buffy stopped speaking, fascinated by Spike’s culinary fussing.
“I was just putting together some breakfast.” She looked at his assembled collection of questionable breakfast items: a jar of habanero peppers, a plate of marshmallow puff cookies, a mug of warm blood and a steaming plate of familiar munchies. That was a hungry vampire breakfast.
“I found these things in the freezer. You’ve got to try them.” Spike’s eyes twinkled. “It’s the flower of an onion and some genius deep fried it. It’s bloody brilliant! I’ve had half the box.” He raised the plate to offer her a steaming morsel. “Try one.”
“Not for breakfast, thanks.”
Spike shrugged and set the plate back down on the table. Buffy opened the refrigerator and took out a container of yogurt and a jug of orange juice. She watched as Spike sat and started dipping each of the selections into the mug of blood and then depositing them into his mouth. She hadn’t seen a habanero pepper sandwiched between two marshmallow cookies before, let alone dipped in blood, but Spike seemed to enjoy it. He greedily gobbled the food and licked his fingers clean.
Buffy grabbed a peach off the counter and a knife from the utensil drawer. She peeled the peach and chopped it into a bowl and then added a couple of dollops of yogurt and a tablespoon of wheat germ. She then poured herself a glass of juice and drank it down. From Spike’s expression she could tell he was not impressed with her breakfast choice.
“That’s baby food, Slayer. You need something substantial. I can whip you up some steak and eggs; that’ll put hair on your chest.”
“Ew, no thanks.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those vegetable people.”
“I eat meat.”
“Yeah, I know.” The highlights of the night’s exploits materialized instantly on Spike’s face, settling in a dangerous looking smirk. Buffy blushed deeply.
“Don’t be so crude.” She tried to look stern. It wasn’t working.
“Didn’t bother you last night…Miss Nasty Tongue…”
“You– Just–” A flustered slayer was a delight to behold. Buffy tried to gain some control. “You eat what you want and I’ll eat what I want.” There, that should do it. Spike reached out and grabbed her, bringing her onto his lap.
“What a delicious offer. I’d love some seconds.” His hands stroked her hips and thighs. She squirmed on his lap trying to evade his questing hands, hold her robe closed and not spill her breakfast. “Keep that up and I’ll be introducing you to an entirely different menu, Slayer.” Buffy ceased wiggling and turned her attention to her bowl. Spike brought a marshmallow cookie to his mouth for a suggestive lick. “How about a little Buffy sauce? Hmm? Or is that for my dessert?” He placed the cookie against his teeth for a brief nibble. Buffy blinked in speechless abandon while a few naughty dessert options floated across her brain.
“I see you’ve found your coat.” At last she thought she’d found an innuendo free topic. Spike settled a bit and looked down with an appreciative smile to admire himself.
“It smells like you, pet. Tell me, what have you been doing in my leather to make it smell so bloody good, hmm?” Buffy reddened before stuffing a defensive spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. Breakfast was now officially a dangerous activity.
“Stuff,” she garbled and set about chewing to hide her grin. Spike picked out a pepper and dangled it above his mouth, tickling it with his tongue. Buffy’s chewing slowed as she stared at his display. At least she had the good sense not to whimper. Much. When he pulled her close for a kiss she balked.
“Nuh uhh,” Buffy held up her palm as a shield. “I’m not kissing pickled pepper tongue. No way.” Spike chewed quickly and swallowed the offending item.
“There,” he opened his mouth, “all gone.” He lunged toward her.
“Still eating!” Spike satisfied himself by nuzzling into her neck. Soon Buffy abandoned her bowl in favor of some mutual snuggling. She curled happily in his arms and ran her palm under the edge of his lapel.
“What’s on the schedule for today? I do believe you said something about handcuffs and a bed?”
“Did I?” A coy smile graced Buffy’s lips. Handcuffs were definitely doable.
“I am feeling a little naughty, love, so you might have to get to the disciplining as soon as possible.” He crinkled his nose for emphasis.
“Giles will probably call and want to come over to interview you.” Buffy was surprised the phone hadn’t rung already.
“Does that bloke ever take a day off?”
“Not often.”
“Well, I don’t bloody answer to him and I won’t be seeing any visitors.” Spike pressed deep fried onion blossom crumbs beneath his index finger and sucked them into his mouth.
“Giles can be pretty insistent.”
“Well, if I’m not here the bloke can’t bother me, can he?” Buffy sat up.
“There’s someplace else you’d like to be?” As the words left her lips she regretted them. Spike had that odd look on his face again and he couldn’t meet her eyes.
“This is his place, love. I don’t fancy competing with what I was.”
“This is your place. You belong here, with me. And there’s no competition, period. I’d never do that to you.”
“I feel something for you, Slayer, I do, but I’d like to get to know you without wrestling him. And it can’t be here. Tell me where else we’ve been.”
It was a short list. They kept putting off travel plans for one thing or another. “Cleveland. We’ve been to Cleveland.” Spike’s face knotted in pained dismay. Buffy spoke up quickly. “FYI…there’s a hellmouth there. It was a business trip.” Okay, even that sounded lame to her. They’d slept on Faith’s floor to cut down on expenses.
“Bloody hell. I took you to Cleveland and you didn’t stake me?” Buffy playfully swatted Spike’s chest.
“It was fun. We ate out at this romantic restaurant, went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and killed a bunch of demons.”
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Oh! And we went to Boston with Dawn–“
“Don’t tell me we slept on her dorm floor. This just keeps getting better.”
“Oh God, no. She couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. We stayed at this tiny bed and breakfast.” A smirk tickled the corner of Buffy’s mouth. “Didn’t actually get around to seeing Boston.”
“And we’ve never gone to Europe?”
“We’ve been saving up.”
“I want to take you to Paris. No hellmouth to speak of, but plenty of fashionable nasties to go around; you know, if you get that slayer itch and feel like cleaning house?”
“Paris sounds wonderful.”
“And Zurich, there’s good shopping there. Or Milan. We could travel around, see what you fancy. Start some new memories.” New memories. That sounded wonderful. Buffy’s elation over that prospect soon receded as thoughts of a shopping tour of Europe crowded in her mind.
Shopping tour. Europe. She felt a little woozy.
“I could probably go for some shopping.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Been having a snoop since I woke up, love. I found the mother load of shoes in that spare bedroom.”
“Okay, about the shoes. It’s a thing.”
“Can’t wait to find out all your little nasties.” Spike nibbled under her ear.
“Spike!” Buffy squeaked in response to his ticklish lips and the brush of fingertips sliding up her leg. “We’re in the kitchen!”
“Why yes, we are. How observant of you.” His fingers did not stop. “I’ve noticed some pretty sturdy looking counter tops, too.” The sensations were too exquisite to argue over. Buffy sighed in agreement.
“They are pretty sturdy at that.”
“So, how long did you date the Poof?” His fingers stilled their tantalizing journey. Buffy’s jaw gaped open. What did he just say?
“Uhhhhh-what?”
“I am Forehead, hear me roar? Had a snoop, pet, remember? I know a prom picture when I see one: corsage, pretty dress, Frankenstein for a date. What? So bad you blocked it out?”
“Um…” Where had that stupid picture been hiding? “We, uh, dated. Yes.” She never actually referred to the Angel years as dating before.
“You were young…” Spike prompted gently.
“Uh huh.”
“And he was a moron…”
“Uh huh–” Buffy blinked from her stupor and started to sputter. “Um. It happened. It was a huge mistake and we were so, so over years ago.” Had she said too much? That was one pit of vipers she didn’t want to tap dance into, not when she felt the morning after yummies.
“You want some more juice?” He really wasn’t particularly interested in the details. The only important fact for Spike was that was then and this was now. The sudden change of topic unnerved her. Buffy’s mouth quirked.
“And you’re not, um, upset by that?” It couldn’t be this easy. It could NOT be this easy. Oh, please let it be this easy.
“Wouldn’t have been my preference, but I’m not going to lose sleep over it. I know all your formers are formers, love, including him.”
“H-how?” At Buffy’s confused look he nuzzled close to her ear and snarled softly.
“Because I’ve tasted it.”
A sharp telephone ring cut through the weighted eroticism in the room. Buffy took a deep breath to clear her mind.
“I better get that. If it’s Giles, he’ll only come over here and break down the door if I don’t.” She stumbled from his lap to the side counter to answer the phone.
“That lad needs a bird,” Spike muttered under his breath and reached for the last cookie.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Buffy. Good, you’re there.”
“Yes Giles, I’m here.” Buffy turned around and rolled her eyes at Spike.
“And all has, um, gone well? Any difficulties to report?”
She held her palm over the receiver. “He’s just wondering how we’re doing.”
“We’d be better without the interruptions!” Spike called out. “Go chat up your own bird, Watcher!”
“Did you hear that?”
“Spike does seem to be in fine form this morning.”
“Yes, he is.” Buffy’s gaze slipped down over Spike’s relaxed physique. A leather framed bare chest was a wonderful thing.
“Tell him to sod off! We’re busy.” With that said, Spike stood and stepped toward Buffy. He needed to touch her.
“Spike says to sod off.” Buffy conveyed that message with glee.
“Yes, I did catch that plaintive bellow, Buffy. I suppose it was too much to hope for any substantive changes in his manners.”
“You’re right Giles. Now that I think of it, Spike has been behaving very badly.” Giles sputtered with concern, unable to read the playful way she intended that statement. “I should do something about that right away.” Spike flared his eyebrows and closed the gap between their bodies.
“Buffy! Do you need assistance? I still have some of that tranquilizer. I can be there in five minutes–” Giles heard some muffled giggling and then some suspicious slurping and moaning sounds.
“Mmm…it’s under control, Giles…no need to…mmm” A soft snarl and two naughty giggles connected the rest of the uncomfortable dots for Giles.
“Ah, well. You seem to be, er, otherwise engaged at present. I’ll ring you later and we can talk at length.” A telltale click came over the line. “Buffy? Buffy are you there?”
“We are so going to need to work on your manners,” Buffy whispered while Spike explored beneath her robe. “Hanging up on Giles was…”
“Necessary.”
“You think so?” Spike lifted her onto the counter and eased her robe over her shoulders.
“Absolutely. If that wanker comes over here with a clip board, I’ll have no choice but to bite him.”
“Spike! You can’t bite Giles. I can’t believe you just said that.”
“He’s a nosey old sod and I think he’s been poisoned by sperm retention.”
“SPIKE! That’s really–” Buffy put her palm over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laugh. It didn’t work.
“Mark my words. Have you noticed the way he cleans his glasses? It’s significant, I tell you–“
“I think we should start on your social skills as soon as possible and there’s no time like the present.” Buffy moved her foot up the inseam of Spike’s jeans to his crotch. That got his attention away from Giles’ alleged sperm issue.
“Yes ma’am!”
“Ew, don’t call me ‘ma’am’.” She let her foot fall away from his lengthening erection.
“What would you like me to call you?”
“Well, what about Buffy?” Spike tilted his head to one side and regarded her.
“Buffy…” He spoke softly, trying out the taste of her name on his tongue. It wasn’t so bad. “Buffy…” Spike dipped his head and kissed her cheek. A shiver of delight flowed through her body. “Buffy…” He traced down her arms, chasing the goose flesh to her fingertips. Interlacing their fingers, Spike brought her hands to his mouth. He bit the tips of her fingers with blunt teeth. “Buffy…”
“Mmm hmm?”
“I like it.”
“Me too.” She bit her bottom lip in a smile.
“Now, is there something you’d particularly like me to do for you, Buffy?” Spike took her right calf in his hand and raised her leg until her ankle rested on his shoulder.
“Uh huh.” Dazed and aroused, she nodded. A twinkle of mischief shone in her eye. Buffy drew her fingertips lazily down the creamy surface of Spike’s leather.
“What’s that, love?”
“Keep your coat on.”