Mission
Title: Mission
Prompt: Historical: Pirates
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Summary: Pirate Buffy Summers chooses the wrong guy to capture. (Pirate Spike v. Pirate Buffy)
“Does this guy ever shut up?” Buffy asked exasperatedly as she swing around her first mate and took a seat at the head of the table, “He’s been yelling at me every since he woke up.”
“Well, he is being held prisoner.” Willow offered, “I think that’s more than enough reason for him to be upset.”
“Oh, pelase, its not like he’ll be here long.” Anya countered from her seat opposite Willow, “Once you get the money you’ll send him straight home, as usual. He’s probably just horny.”
Buffy and Willow shared looks, but ignored Anya’s statement, “Are you sure we got the right guy, Buffy?” Willow asked nervously, “I mean, the family said he was different, darker hair, no scar - maybe you got the wrong guy.”
Buffy shook her head and sipped at her drink, “No, he’s the one. I can feel it.”
“When do we get out money?” Anya interrupted, taking a bite of her food, “It’s going to cost money to keep him alive, you know.”
“When do you think he’s eaten last?” Willow mused. Buffy’s eyes widened and she smiled sheepishly, standing up and grabbing her plate.
“Be right back!” she called before shooting out of the room, leaving her crew members beffudled and more than slightly amused.
“B’s strong, but man is she scatter brained.” Deckhand Faith said with a smile as she balanced on the back legs of her chair.
.
“Bloody hell, let me out of here!”
Buffy rolled her eyes and pushed open the door without a second thought, smiling a bubbly smile towards her captive. “Hello to you too, Mr. Pratt.”
The mans face instantly fell into a horrified gap, and he groaned before letting his head fall back, “Bloody hell, they finally sent someone after me.”
“Your parents? Yeah, they’re worried sick. Think they’ve been looking for you for years.” Buffy said nonchalantly, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of him, forking a potato and holding it to his mouth. “Eat. Now.”
Mr. Pratt - better known as William the Bloody - quirked an eyebrow, “Wha’s the captain doin’ feedin’ the hostage? Don’t you have people for this?”
“You’re a pirate, Spike.” Buffy said, forcing the food into his mouth, “I don’t trust half my crew, and I don’t trust you. I’m not letting you see anyone but me until I deem it safe. Kapiche?”
Spike shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the food, “How much are they payin’ yah? I’ll double it.”
“And you expect me to trust a pirate?” Buffy asked, snorting in amusement, “Look, as a Pirate, I know never to trust other pirates. Number one rule - trust only yourself.”
“For Christ sake, I’ll triple it!” Spike protested, “Just let me go an’ maybe I won’t send mercenaries after your scrawny ass!”
Buffy felt her eyebrow tick in annoyance, but instead of lashing out she shoved another potato into his mouth. “Look, Spike, nothing against you, but I need the money, and I trust those aristocrats more than I trust you.”
“Wha’ have I ever done to you!?” Spike protested again around a mouthful of food, “I’ve never even seen you before in my life - an’ believe me, I would remember a girl like you.”
“You are a pirate and a former aristocrat - the worst of the worst wrapped into one handy little package.” Buffy explained, “Now chew your food - don’t want you choking on me.”
Spike glared and made an obvious show of chewing his food before swallowing obnoxiously, “Look, jus’ let me off now and I won’t send my crew after you when I get back.”
“If your crew still wants you.” Buffy said with a shrug, “I’ve done my research, William the Bloody. Half your crew hates you - even your first mate wishes you were dead. The only reason you have your own ship is because your other captain died and you were next in line.”
Spikes silence answered everything, and Buffy rolled her eyes as she sat the plate down in his lap, “Lets see how well you eat with your hands tied.” She snapped.
She turned around only to find a strong arm wrapped around her waist, the plate splattered across the floor, and a smooth masculine voice whispering in her ear.
“Gotcha.”
Prompt: Historical: Pirates
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Summary: Pirate Buffy Summers chooses the wrong guy to capture. (Pirate Spike v. Pirate Buffy)
“Does this guy ever shut up?” Buffy asked exasperatedly as she swing around her first mate and took a seat at the head of the table, “He’s been yelling at me every since he woke up.”
“Well, he is being held prisoner.” Willow offered, “I think that’s more than enough reason for him to be upset.”
“Oh, pelase, its not like he’ll be here long.” Anya countered from her seat opposite Willow, “Once you get the money you’ll send him straight home, as usual. He’s probably just horny.”
Buffy and Willow shared looks, but ignored Anya’s statement, “Are you sure we got the right guy, Buffy?” Willow asked nervously, “I mean, the family said he was different, darker hair, no scar - maybe you got the wrong guy.”
Buffy shook her head and sipped at her drink, “No, he’s the one. I can feel it.”
“When do we get out money?” Anya interrupted, taking a bite of her food, “It’s going to cost money to keep him alive, you know.”
“When do you think he’s eaten last?” Willow mused. Buffy’s eyes widened and she smiled sheepishly, standing up and grabbing her plate.
“Be right back!” she called before shooting out of the room, leaving her crew members beffudled and more than slightly amused.
“B’s strong, but man is she scatter brained.” Deckhand Faith said with a smile as she balanced on the back legs of her chair.
.
“Bloody hell, let me out of here!”
Buffy rolled her eyes and pushed open the door without a second thought, smiling a bubbly smile towards her captive. “Hello to you too, Mr. Pratt.”
The mans face instantly fell into a horrified gap, and he groaned before letting his head fall back, “Bloody hell, they finally sent someone after me.”
“Your parents? Yeah, they’re worried sick. Think they’ve been looking for you for years.” Buffy said nonchalantly, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of him, forking a potato and holding it to his mouth. “Eat. Now.”
Mr. Pratt - better known as William the Bloody - quirked an eyebrow, “Wha’s the captain doin’ feedin’ the hostage? Don’t you have people for this?”
“You’re a pirate, Spike.” Buffy said, forcing the food into his mouth, “I don’t trust half my crew, and I don’t trust you. I’m not letting you see anyone but me until I deem it safe. Kapiche?”
Spike shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the food, “How much are they payin’ yah? I’ll double it.”
“And you expect me to trust a pirate?” Buffy asked, snorting in amusement, “Look, as a Pirate, I know never to trust other pirates. Number one rule - trust only yourself.”
“For Christ sake, I’ll triple it!” Spike protested, “Just let me go an’ maybe I won’t send mercenaries after your scrawny ass!”
Buffy felt her eyebrow tick in annoyance, but instead of lashing out she shoved another potato into his mouth. “Look, Spike, nothing against you, but I need the money, and I trust those aristocrats more than I trust you.”
“Wha’ have I ever done to you!?” Spike protested again around a mouthful of food, “I’ve never even seen you before in my life - an’ believe me, I would remember a girl like you.”
“You are a pirate and a former aristocrat - the worst of the worst wrapped into one handy little package.” Buffy explained, “Now chew your food - don’t want you choking on me.”
Spike glared and made an obvious show of chewing his food before swallowing obnoxiously, “Look, jus’ let me off now and I won’t send my crew after you when I get back.”
“If your crew still wants you.” Buffy said with a shrug, “I’ve done my research, William the Bloody. Half your crew hates you - even your first mate wishes you were dead. The only reason you have your own ship is because your other captain died and you were next in line.”
Spikes silence answered everything, and Buffy rolled her eyes as she sat the plate down in his lap, “Lets see how well you eat with your hands tied.” She snapped.
She turned around only to find a strong arm wrapped around her waist, the plate splattered across the floor, and a smooth masculine voice whispering in her ear.
“Gotcha.”