Happy Birthday Fer!
Okay, so technically, it isn't your birthday anymore. I almost made it! In my time zone, at least. But I come bringing prezzies, so hopefully that makes up for it.
This started out to be a little interlude in the "Slow Motion" verse. ("Slow Motion" was written for Fer as part of the "And then ... " ficathon, and can be found here). However ... it kind of got away from me. I think it may be longer than the original story, actually. Hee!
This takes place around Thanksgiving time (as that's when I wrote it). It's Spike/Buffy, of course, with dancing, miniskirts, cell phones, and Illyria. I also stole the name Fer gave a certain other character - I'm sure she won't mind. Rated R. Let's call it ...
This long distance romance thing wouldn’t be so bad, if only he wasn’t so far away.
Oh sure, his plan sounded good. They always sounded good. If he stayed in LA for another month, he could there for New Year’s Eve. Kiss her at midnight. Stay a bit longer than usual. Longer was good.
So why was she sobbing into her single serving of cornbread stuffing, all alone on Thanksgiving Day? Because Thanksgiving was about family, that’s why, and her only family was off skiing in the Alps. Her friends were scattered to the far corners of the globe. And her boyfriend was a million miles away, or might as well be.
She decided to give him a call. Because phone calls with Spike were almost as much fun as him being there. Well, not really. But pretty damn fun, all the same. She thought about that voice, the way it changed timbre, lowered a notch as soon as he knew it was her. I f she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine him next to her, that whiskey-soaked, dark chocolate-dipped voice purring in her ear, saying all sorts of dirty, nasty, beautiful things, and ... yeah. He’d said he’d call her later. That was definitely too long to wait.
Quickly, she punched ‘one’ on her speed dial, and waited for him to pick up. “Spike, here. You know the drill. Wait for beep.”
Not exactly what she had in mind. She decided to try his cell phone, and got the same result. After staring at the phone for a long moment, she sighed, and decided to try llyria.
Spike had gotten Illyria a cell phone recently, for emergency use only. She was staying in Wesley’s old place, and had had the use of his phone, but not for long. There had been some bad experiences with an unfortunate telemarketer or two. Poor, telemarketers. So Spike had cancelled the regular phone service and gotten her a cell phone. He and Buffy had the number. Period.
Buffy took a deep breath, and dialed.
“Speak,” Illyria answered.
“Hello, Illyria. This is Buffy.”
Silence.
“Right. I’m looking for Spike.”
“And you tell me this, why?”
Count to ten, Buffy. “I was hoping you might know where he is.”
“I am not aware of his location, specifically. However, he did mention that there was an upcoming human celebration involving turkeys. He chose to honor this tradition by ingesting ‘wild turkey.’”
Wild turkey? Wild Turkey! “Oh, great! That’s just great!”
“You say you are pleased, yet the tone of your voice clearly indicates you are not.”
“Pleased? Spike is out getting shit-faced in some bar while I’m sitting here all alone in my apartment. I’m just thrilled.”
“You are doing it again; the saying of one thing while feeling another. I believe it is called ‘sarcasm.’ I grow weary of it.”
Buffy heard a click on the other end of the line. “Illyria? Illyria! Damn!” She threw the phone across the room in anger. So he was out having a good time? Fine. Two could play that game. She hurried into her bedroom and threw open the closet door. Now, what would it be? The leather miniskirt? Or the leather miniskirt?
***
As far as the Romans were concerned, it was just another Thursday; a fairly busy night for the party crowd, but not as crowded as the weekend would be. It had been a long time since Buffy had been out dancing; back when she’d been dating the Immortal, actually. Since she and Spike had been together, they usually ... stayed in.
She smiled when the bouncer recognized her and he waved her in without a cover. She felt many eyes on her as she entered, but then, she had dressed to be noticed. Even so, she felt the urge to turn and run for a moment. The moment passed, and she sauntered up to the bar and ordered a club soda.
Several men asked her to dance, and she did dance with a few of them, letting the throbbing beat of the music seep into her and take her away. She never danced more than two dances with any of them, and she never let them buy her any drinks.
As she was walking back from the dance floor, she suddenly felt a prickle in the back of her neck, a tingle that traveled to base of her spine. She stopped and slowly spun around, looking up into the crowd, searching for ...
“Marco!”
Still impossibly handsome, still impeccably dressed, still the Immortal. “Hello, Buffy.”
“What are you doing here?”
Without her even realizing it, he had taken her elbow and gently guided her towards the bar. “I heard that you were here. Alone. Abandoned by your ... vampire. I am concerned for you.”
Buffy shook his hand off her arm. “What, you have people spying on me? And I have not been ‘abandoned.’ Melodramatic much?. We have a long distance thing going on, and he’s in LA right now, that’s all. I just felt like dancing, and so here I am. Dancing. Alone. It’s all completely innocent.”
“Ah yes. Innocent. I see you have dressed the part.” His eyes traveled over her body, and for the first time she was completely revolted by his gaze.
“How dare you!”
Marco just smiled at her, and she was trying to decide whether to punch him in the nose or just walk away - and punching him in the nose was winning handily - when she felt that tingle down her spine again. It was followed almost immediately by a soft voice in her ear. “Don’t know that I’ve ever agreed with a thing this pillock has said before, but I gotta say, that getup definitely falls on the naughty side of the spectrum, pet. Not that I’m complaining.”
She spun around to find Spike standing there grinning at her, and the open lust mixed with complete amusement on his face was almost enough to earn him his own punch in the nose before he reached out to touch her hair. “Missed you, baby.”
And the next thing she knew, she was on the dance floor, arms wrapped around him, moving slowly to the beat.
"'Wild Turkey,' huh? Very funny."
He grinned. "Illyria thought it was. 'I agree to participate in your deception. I shall find it amusing.' Don't wrinkle your nose at me that way, cute as it is. I wanted to surprise you."
Buffy couldn't stay annoyed at him for long; she was too happy to see him. “Wait a minute, where’s Marco?” she asked, suddenly realizing that they left him standing there, ignoring him completely. That was so not Spike, and she wondered why he hadn’t started something with him. Not that she wanted him to, but it would be nice if he was a little jealous. “He’s been following me you know! I oughta kick his ass!” She pulled half-heartedly out of Spike’s arms, before he pulled her back.
“Never mind, Slayer. He's slunk off to parts unknown by now. Looked a bit miffed to see you with me, of all people. Which kind of made taking the red eye rather worth it.” His hands move from her hips down over her bottom. “‘Sides, who can blame him for following this around.”
She grabbed his hand and moved it back to her waist. “Hey! That’s a sexist remark, that’s what it is!”
“Is that right?” he said, head dropping to her shoulder. “Isn’t that why you wore this tight little skirt, and these come-fuck-me shoes? Hmm? To get noticed?” His voice vibrated against her neck, and she could feel one hand move up to slide beneath the band of her halter top.
“N ... no. I ... I just wanted to go dancing.”
“Didn’t want all the boys to see you? Know what they’re missing? Let me know what I was missing?” His other hand pressed against her lower back, and she could feel that she wasn’t the only one excited by this conversation.
“M ... maybe. But ... “ She couldn’t catch her breath. “I didn’t ... I wasn’t ... “ Somewhere along the line, the music has changed from a ballad to dance music, but they were still swaying slowly to their own beat.
His lips, his teeth, nibbled their way up her neck to her ear, and if he hadn’t been holding her up she was sure she would’ve melted into a puddle on the floor. “I've been watching you for awhile tonight, love. No worries, I get it. You didn’t want them. Just wanted them to look. That right?” She nodded, unable to form words, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “You want me though, don’t you Buffy? Do you want me?”
“I want you, Spike. Only you.”
He groaned and somehow pressed her even closer then, and she was certain that any minute now she was going to start convulsing, right there on the dance floor.
Somehow, despite the fact she could barely stand, he maneuvered them to the back of the club. It was darker there, more private. And then he was kissing her like it had been years, not weeks since he saw her, her back pressed up against a post while her hands fluttered around his face, his neck, his shoulders. Wanting to touch him everywhere, unable to settle on a single spot.
The deja vu seemed to hit them both at the same time, and when he pulled back to look at her, the longing in his face, and the thinly veiled pain, made her catch her breath. She nodded, answering his unasked question. “I remember. Of course I do.”
He leaned in, breathing hard, and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, as if he was afraid to look at her. Afraid at what he might see. “What were you thinkin’, that night at the Bronze?” he asked her. Then, more softly. “What were you thinkin’?”
She answered quickly, without hesitation. “I was thinking, ‘I don’t ever want this to stop. I want this to go on forever. I could kiss this man forever.’” she said. And when he opened his eyes, the light she saw there was worth all the days, the weeks, the months, the years, that had let up to that moment.
“Forever.”
Happy Birthday, and I hope the little one is feeling better.
This started out to be a little interlude in the "Slow Motion" verse. ("Slow Motion" was written for Fer as part of the "And then ... " ficathon, and can be found here). However ... it kind of got away from me. I think it may be longer than the original story, actually. Hee!
This takes place around Thanksgiving time (as that's when I wrote it). It's Spike/Buffy, of course, with dancing, miniskirts, cell phones, and Illyria. I also stole the name Fer gave a certain other character - I'm sure she won't mind. Rated R. Let's call it ...
This long distance romance thing wouldn’t be so bad, if only he wasn’t so far away.
Oh sure, his plan sounded good. They always sounded good. If he stayed in LA for another month, he could there for New Year’s Eve. Kiss her at midnight. Stay a bit longer than usual. Longer was good.
So why was she sobbing into her single serving of cornbread stuffing, all alone on Thanksgiving Day? Because Thanksgiving was about family, that’s why, and her only family was off skiing in the Alps. Her friends were scattered to the far corners of the globe. And her boyfriend was a million miles away, or might as well be.
She decided to give him a call. Because phone calls with Spike were almost as much fun as him being there. Well, not really. But pretty damn fun, all the same. She thought about that voice, the way it changed timbre, lowered a notch as soon as he knew it was her. I f she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine him next to her, that whiskey-soaked, dark chocolate-dipped voice purring in her ear, saying all sorts of dirty, nasty, beautiful things, and ... yeah. He’d said he’d call her later. That was definitely too long to wait.
Quickly, she punched ‘one’ on her speed dial, and waited for him to pick up. “Spike, here. You know the drill. Wait for beep.”
Not exactly what she had in mind. She decided to try his cell phone, and got the same result. After staring at the phone for a long moment, she sighed, and decided to try llyria.
Spike had gotten Illyria a cell phone recently, for emergency use only. She was staying in Wesley’s old place, and had had the use of his phone, but not for long. There had been some bad experiences with an unfortunate telemarketer or two. Poor, telemarketers. So Spike had cancelled the regular phone service and gotten her a cell phone. He and Buffy had the number. Period.
Buffy took a deep breath, and dialed.
“Speak,” Illyria answered.
“Hello, Illyria. This is Buffy.”
Silence.
“Right. I’m looking for Spike.”
“And you tell me this, why?”
Count to ten, Buffy. “I was hoping you might know where he is.”
“I am not aware of his location, specifically. However, he did mention that there was an upcoming human celebration involving turkeys. He chose to honor this tradition by ingesting ‘wild turkey.’”
Wild turkey? Wild Turkey! “Oh, great! That’s just great!”
“You say you are pleased, yet the tone of your voice clearly indicates you are not.”
“Pleased? Spike is out getting shit-faced in some bar while I’m sitting here all alone in my apartment. I’m just thrilled.”
“You are doing it again; the saying of one thing while feeling another. I believe it is called ‘sarcasm.’ I grow weary of it.”
Buffy heard a click on the other end of the line. “Illyria? Illyria! Damn!” She threw the phone across the room in anger. So he was out having a good time? Fine. Two could play that game. She hurried into her bedroom and threw open the closet door. Now, what would it be? The leather miniskirt? Or the leather miniskirt?
***
As far as the Romans were concerned, it was just another Thursday; a fairly busy night for the party crowd, but not as crowded as the weekend would be. It had been a long time since Buffy had been out dancing; back when she’d been dating the Immortal, actually. Since she and Spike had been together, they usually ... stayed in.
She smiled when the bouncer recognized her and he waved her in without a cover. She felt many eyes on her as she entered, but then, she had dressed to be noticed. Even so, she felt the urge to turn and run for a moment. The moment passed, and she sauntered up to the bar and ordered a club soda.
Several men asked her to dance, and she did dance with a few of them, letting the throbbing beat of the music seep into her and take her away. She never danced more than two dances with any of them, and she never let them buy her any drinks.
As she was walking back from the dance floor, she suddenly felt a prickle in the back of her neck, a tingle that traveled to base of her spine. She stopped and slowly spun around, looking up into the crowd, searching for ...
“Marco!”
Still impossibly handsome, still impeccably dressed, still the Immortal. “Hello, Buffy.”
“What are you doing here?”
Without her even realizing it, he had taken her elbow and gently guided her towards the bar. “I heard that you were here. Alone. Abandoned by your ... vampire. I am concerned for you.”
Buffy shook his hand off her arm. “What, you have people spying on me? And I have not been ‘abandoned.’ Melodramatic much?. We have a long distance thing going on, and he’s in LA right now, that’s all. I just felt like dancing, and so here I am. Dancing. Alone. It’s all completely innocent.”
“Ah yes. Innocent. I see you have dressed the part.” His eyes traveled over her body, and for the first time she was completely revolted by his gaze.
“How dare you!”
Marco just smiled at her, and she was trying to decide whether to punch him in the nose or just walk away - and punching him in the nose was winning handily - when she felt that tingle down her spine again. It was followed almost immediately by a soft voice in her ear. “Don’t know that I’ve ever agreed with a thing this pillock has said before, but I gotta say, that getup definitely falls on the naughty side of the spectrum, pet. Not that I’m complaining.”
She spun around to find Spike standing there grinning at her, and the open lust mixed with complete amusement on his face was almost enough to earn him his own punch in the nose before he reached out to touch her hair. “Missed you, baby.”
And the next thing she knew, she was on the dance floor, arms wrapped around him, moving slowly to the beat.
"'Wild Turkey,' huh? Very funny."
He grinned. "Illyria thought it was. 'I agree to participate in your deception. I shall find it amusing.' Don't wrinkle your nose at me that way, cute as it is. I wanted to surprise you."
Buffy couldn't stay annoyed at him for long; she was too happy to see him. “Wait a minute, where’s Marco?” she asked, suddenly realizing that they left him standing there, ignoring him completely. That was so not Spike, and she wondered why he hadn’t started something with him. Not that she wanted him to, but it would be nice if he was a little jealous. “He’s been following me you know! I oughta kick his ass!” She pulled half-heartedly out of Spike’s arms, before he pulled her back.
“Never mind, Slayer. He's slunk off to parts unknown by now. Looked a bit miffed to see you with me, of all people. Which kind of made taking the red eye rather worth it.” His hands move from her hips down over her bottom. “‘Sides, who can blame him for following this around.”
She grabbed his hand and moved it back to her waist. “Hey! That’s a sexist remark, that’s what it is!”
“Is that right?” he said, head dropping to her shoulder. “Isn’t that why you wore this tight little skirt, and these come-fuck-me shoes? Hmm? To get noticed?” His voice vibrated against her neck, and she could feel one hand move up to slide beneath the band of her halter top.
“N ... no. I ... I just wanted to go dancing.”
“Didn’t want all the boys to see you? Know what they’re missing? Let me know what I was missing?” His other hand pressed against her lower back, and she could feel that she wasn’t the only one excited by this conversation.
“M ... maybe. But ... “ She couldn’t catch her breath. “I didn’t ... I wasn’t ... “ Somewhere along the line, the music has changed from a ballad to dance music, but they were still swaying slowly to their own beat.
His lips, his teeth, nibbled their way up her neck to her ear, and if he hadn’t been holding her up she was sure she would’ve melted into a puddle on the floor. “I've been watching you for awhile tonight, love. No worries, I get it. You didn’t want them. Just wanted them to look. That right?” She nodded, unable to form words, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “You want me though, don’t you Buffy? Do you want me?”
“I want you, Spike. Only you.”
He groaned and somehow pressed her even closer then, and she was certain that any minute now she was going to start convulsing, right there on the dance floor.
Somehow, despite the fact she could barely stand, he maneuvered them to the back of the club. It was darker there, more private. And then he was kissing her like it had been years, not weeks since he saw her, her back pressed up against a post while her hands fluttered around his face, his neck, his shoulders. Wanting to touch him everywhere, unable to settle on a single spot.
The deja vu seemed to hit them both at the same time, and when he pulled back to look at her, the longing in his face, and the thinly veiled pain, made her catch her breath. She nodded, answering his unasked question. “I remember. Of course I do.”
He leaned in, breathing hard, and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, as if he was afraid to look at her. Afraid at what he might see. “What were you thinkin’, that night at the Bronze?” he asked her. Then, more softly. “What were you thinkin’?”
She answered quickly, without hesitation. “I was thinking, ‘I don’t ever want this to stop. I want this to go on forever. I could kiss this man forever.’” she said. And when he opened his eyes, the light she saw there was worth all the days, the weeks, the months, the years, that had let up to that moment.
“Forever.”
Happy Birthday, and I hope the little one is feeling better.