Working It Out (or: Revenge of the Gnomes), an UnTragedy in Semi-Adult Conversation (PG13)
Random fluff/angst. No idea why Switzerland. No idea at all. Go with it?
Title Working It Out (or: Revenge of the Gnomes), an UnTragedy in Semi-Adult Conversation
Rating PG13
Words 650
Prompt Gnomeo and Juliet, and the alternatives to being Star Crossed
Setting post-series, established relationship on some kind of mission, a few ripples of Entropy still
"Ugh. Gnomes!" Buffy looked a little nauseated.
"Two things, love," said Spike, peering out of the obscured windshield in an effort to work out where the fuck they were. She was an awesome woman, his Slayer, but a navigator she was not. (Do not say 'sat nav.' Spike has Views.) "One: this is Switzerland. Gnomes are a thing. Recommend you deal." She made a little ugh sound that made him grin internally. "Second: in all the things you've seen in your life, it's a garden gnome that freaks you out?"
She sat rather too still. There was a certain froideur in the air.
"Because that's okay?" (Spike is not an expert in the language of Feelings and Therapy. Tries, but feels like seven sorts of arsewipe while he does.) "If you have gnome-phobia, we can deal. Whole swathes of the Continent aren't too gnome-infested." (Though at present, can he think of one? Poland, Germany, France- Everywhere he knows and loves is covered in tacky little statuettes when he comes to think about it. Never been a thing before.) Eventually, he realized he was bonkers. Buffy was stronger than gnomes. So some kind of explanation was needed. And not, so far, forthcoming.
"What is it, love?"
It took another five miles or so, and a couple of squint signposts confirming they were at least vaguely headed in the direction of Grindelwald, before she said, "It was a gnome. With the camera inside. In our yard. And I kicked it to death, Willow hacked it, and it was the Trio, and they had all their cameras and we looked and you were in the Magic Box with Anya. On the table. Having sex." After which word vomit, she clamped her lips shut.
Spike gave a deep inward sigh, and waited for a layby to open up on the road. Some conversations should not be had in transit. But should be had, eventually, avoid it how they might. And this boring highway some way short of Interlaken might as well be it.
He said, "I'm sorry-"
Buffy said, "I shouldn't-"
There was a mutual moment of irritated understanding. Then a silent competition for the other to speak next. Spike won. Buffy spoke.
"I shouldn't be jealous. We were broken up; you and Anya were free agents, you'd both been hurt. I had no right-"
(Spike never can stand listening to her beat herself up. He prefers to watch others try, and fail, and get beaten in turn. Hence, interruption.)
"I'm sorry I fucked your friend. Even drunk and upset, we knew it was a bad idea. Well. Mostly I'm sorry it upset you, actually." (The soul makes for honesty. If not actual contrition.)
It made her laugh, that last part, but in a slightly damp way that suggested the whole gnome thing did upset her, all over again.
He looked out at the gathering dusk. Soon, he'd be able to get out and walk around. Which was lucky, because there were trolls to be killed, up on the mountain, if they could only get there intact, without too many wrong directions and deep emotional conversations.
"Look, love… It's this way, isn't it? Nobody did anything wrong. Bad timing, hurt feelings, decent intentions… Not exactly Romeo and Juliet star-crossed, is it?"
She sniffed, discreetly, and pulled her shades firmly on, disguising hints of red eyes. "Yes. Yes, you're right. It's not where we are now. All done."
"On we go, then? Nice hotel waiting for us, log fire, big bed..." He wiggled his eyebrows invitingly.
Buffy, even under the sunglasses, gave a visible roll of the eyes. "You only want to get at the trolls. I read you like a book, Mr the Bloody."
"Fucking right, love," said Spike, pulling out of the layby, back to the good times.
Gnomes of the world, watch out. Spike has it in for you, these days.
Title Working It Out (or: Revenge of the Gnomes), an UnTragedy in Semi-Adult Conversation
Rating PG13
Words 650
Prompt Gnomeo and Juliet, and the alternatives to being Star Crossed
Setting post-series, established relationship on some kind of mission, a few ripples of Entropy still
"Ugh. Gnomes!" Buffy looked a little nauseated.
"Two things, love," said Spike, peering out of the obscured windshield in an effort to work out where the fuck they were. She was an awesome woman, his Slayer, but a navigator she was not. (Do not say 'sat nav.' Spike has Views.) "One: this is Switzerland. Gnomes are a thing. Recommend you deal." She made a little ugh sound that made him grin internally. "Second: in all the things you've seen in your life, it's a garden gnome that freaks you out?"
She sat rather too still. There was a certain froideur in the air.
"Because that's okay?" (Spike is not an expert in the language of Feelings and Therapy. Tries, but feels like seven sorts of arsewipe while he does.) "If you have gnome-phobia, we can deal. Whole swathes of the Continent aren't too gnome-infested." (Though at present, can he think of one? Poland, Germany, France- Everywhere he knows and loves is covered in tacky little statuettes when he comes to think about it. Never been a thing before.) Eventually, he realized he was bonkers. Buffy was stronger than gnomes. So some kind of explanation was needed. And not, so far, forthcoming.
"What is it, love?"
It took another five miles or so, and a couple of squint signposts confirming they were at least vaguely headed in the direction of Grindelwald, before she said, "It was a gnome. With the camera inside. In our yard. And I kicked it to death, Willow hacked it, and it was the Trio, and they had all their cameras and we looked and you were in the Magic Box with Anya. On the table. Having sex." After which word vomit, she clamped her lips shut.
Spike gave a deep inward sigh, and waited for a layby to open up on the road. Some conversations should not be had in transit. But should be had, eventually, avoid it how they might. And this boring highway some way short of Interlaken might as well be it.
He said, "I'm sorry-"
Buffy said, "I shouldn't-"
There was a mutual moment of irritated understanding. Then a silent competition for the other to speak next. Spike won. Buffy spoke.
"I shouldn't be jealous. We were broken up; you and Anya were free agents, you'd both been hurt. I had no right-"
(Spike never can stand listening to her beat herself up. He prefers to watch others try, and fail, and get beaten in turn. Hence, interruption.)
"I'm sorry I fucked your friend. Even drunk and upset, we knew it was a bad idea. Well. Mostly I'm sorry it upset you, actually." (The soul makes for honesty. If not actual contrition.)
It made her laugh, that last part, but in a slightly damp way that suggested the whole gnome thing did upset her, all over again.
He looked out at the gathering dusk. Soon, he'd be able to get out and walk around. Which was lucky, because there were trolls to be killed, up on the mountain, if they could only get there intact, without too many wrong directions and deep emotional conversations.
"Look, love… It's this way, isn't it? Nobody did anything wrong. Bad timing, hurt feelings, decent intentions… Not exactly Romeo and Juliet star-crossed, is it?"
She sniffed, discreetly, and pulled her shades firmly on, disguising hints of red eyes. "Yes. Yes, you're right. It's not where we are now. All done."
"On we go, then? Nice hotel waiting for us, log fire, big bed..." He wiggled his eyebrows invitingly.
Buffy, even under the sunglasses, gave a visible roll of the eyes. "You only want to get at the trolls. I read you like a book, Mr the Bloody."
"Fucking right, love," said Spike, pulling out of the layby, back to the good times.
Gnomes of the world, watch out. Spike has it in for you, these days.