Fic: At the Fair
I filled a prompt over at sb_fag_ends, the first I've done in far too long. Here it is:
Title: At the Fair
Rating PG-15
Prompt: Doughnut stand dilemma
Length:587 words
At the Fair
The town fair was still going after they had sorted out the slime demons, and it was a right pleasure to watch her as they walked round. He even hopped on the carousel with her - he hadn’t been on one of those since some state fair back in the twenties. She had forgotten to be miserable for a moment and her smile almost shone. There was a word for that. His Slayer really was effulgent.
There were no savoury foods around as far as he could see, except for some revolting things on sticks. Fried butter was a thing? No wonder bloody Yanks tasted so greasy. No onions, nothing spicy. He began to feel cheated.
Then the lights of the donut stand lit up her face. She never looked that eager for him. “I don’t bloody see the point in all these. Nothing but sugar layered on sugar. With added sugar filling. Enough to make you puke.”
It worked. She scowled back at him, only her expression was more adorable than menacing. “I like Krispy Kreme! And we always had them for research parties. Giles liked the jelly sort, so don’t you come all Mr I’m-British-so-I’m-better on me. He is every bit as British as you, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
Spike sniffed. “Corrupted. Spent way too long living with you bloody Colonials.”
Blood rushed deliciously to her face and neck. It was always worth pissing his Slayer off, just a tiny bit. “And you haven’t? I’ve been looking you up, Mister, and I know you’ve spent decades here with your Princess Dru.”
Bloody hell. She must have got hold of that bint’s thesis or something. Spike decided to brazen it out. “Got me there. I got my name from your railroads, even. God, those were good days, feasting on railroad workers at night, little lads in silly suits while we travelled first class, one side of the country to the other. Best way to get to California in the old times - posh cabins, with posh snacks in them. Dru loved the clothes.”
“You disgust me.” Buffy always fell back on the old tried and true insults before long. These days he had a counter for that.
“Yeah, and you like it like that. But these bloody sugar explosions, they disgust me just as much.”
“Not possible. You are the most disgusting vampire in forever. You’re a pig, Spike. I’m having one anyway.”
“You do that, love, and I’ll take the spare sugar and spread it where the sun don’t shine. And lick it all off later. Or do it without; your nethers are sweet enough for my taste.” Delicious red face now, all the blood rushing to the surface. He could almost taste it.
That was enough for her. She bought a bag of the things: one plain, several with as many flavours as the vendor could cram in were in her bag.
“Plain, love? Why so?”
“I’ve told you not to say that to me. I am going to make you eat your words, Mister. And a donut. Or this is as close to me as you get tonight.”
He smiled inwardly and gave her the patented smirk with tongue curl. “Thass alright, pet. You can inject it with pig’s blood for me.”
And there she went. The nose again, inevitably, but he was so used to that by now he almost enjoyed it. And the stalking away was definitely in the direction of Restfield. Fun was to be had, with or without the doughnuts. And proper tasty it was going to be.
Title: At the Fair
Rating PG-15
Prompt: Doughnut stand dilemma
Length:587 words
At the Fair
The town fair was still going after they had sorted out the slime demons, and it was a right pleasure to watch her as they walked round. He even hopped on the carousel with her - he hadn’t been on one of those since some state fair back in the twenties. She had forgotten to be miserable for a moment and her smile almost shone. There was a word for that. His Slayer really was effulgent.
There were no savoury foods around as far as he could see, except for some revolting things on sticks. Fried butter was a thing? No wonder bloody Yanks tasted so greasy. No onions, nothing spicy. He began to feel cheated.
Then the lights of the donut stand lit up her face. She never looked that eager for him. “I don’t bloody see the point in all these. Nothing but sugar layered on sugar. With added sugar filling. Enough to make you puke.”
It worked. She scowled back at him, only her expression was more adorable than menacing. “I like Krispy Kreme! And we always had them for research parties. Giles liked the jelly sort, so don’t you come all Mr I’m-British-so-I’m-better on me. He is every bit as British as you, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
Spike sniffed. “Corrupted. Spent way too long living with you bloody Colonials.”
Blood rushed deliciously to her face and neck. It was always worth pissing his Slayer off, just a tiny bit. “And you haven’t? I’ve been looking you up, Mister, and I know you’ve spent decades here with your Princess Dru.”
Bloody hell. She must have got hold of that bint’s thesis or something. Spike decided to brazen it out. “Got me there. I got my name from your railroads, even. God, those were good days, feasting on railroad workers at night, little lads in silly suits while we travelled first class, one side of the country to the other. Best way to get to California in the old times - posh cabins, with posh snacks in them. Dru loved the clothes.”
“You disgust me.” Buffy always fell back on the old tried and true insults before long. These days he had a counter for that.
“Yeah, and you like it like that. But these bloody sugar explosions, they disgust me just as much.”
“Not possible. You are the most disgusting vampire in forever. You’re a pig, Spike. I’m having one anyway.”
“You do that, love, and I’ll take the spare sugar and spread it where the sun don’t shine. And lick it all off later. Or do it without; your nethers are sweet enough for my taste.” Delicious red face now, all the blood rushing to the surface. He could almost taste it.
That was enough for her. She bought a bag of the things: one plain, several with as many flavours as the vendor could cram in were in her bag.
“Plain, love? Why so?”
“I’ve told you not to say that to me. I am going to make you eat your words, Mister. And a donut. Or this is as close to me as you get tonight.”
He smiled inwardly and gave her the patented smirk with tongue curl. “Thass alright, pet. You can inject it with pig’s blood for me.”
And there she went. The nose again, inevitably, but he was so used to that by now he almost enjoyed it. And the stalking away was definitely in the direction of Restfield. Fun was to be had, with or without the doughnuts. And proper tasty it was going to be.