Camp Nano
Camp Nano is drawing to a close, and as I am just 1.3k from my self-assigned target, it looks like I'm going to make it. Woohoo! It's been great, actually. I've been pretty distracted this month with baby things, but at the same time, I really do want to make progress on this story, so to have some structure has been fantastic. I am also pretty pleased with the quality of what I've turned out over this month -- setting my goal relatively low at 15k has allowed me to edit as I go, rather than racing through, including addressing beta comments. Since I am not a big planner, esp with fanfic, I do rely on my betas to tell me if I'm heading off in the wrong direction, so all in all, I think I found a nice balance.
Anyway, here is a scene from the chapter I'm currently working on. Mildly spoilery for the fic if you've read what's been posted so far (although not really, if you know me at all, heh). Context probably unnecessary, except for the fact that Dawn is Buffy's kid, and is about five-and-a-half in this scene. Warning for sickening Spuffy domestic fluff :D
The Soul Lies Down, Chapter 15 snippet...
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” Buffy said as she entered their bedroom, mug of steaming blood in hand. “Sweet dreams?”
Spike rolled over and gave her an adorably sleep-befuddled look. “What time is it?”
“Nearly four. Dawn’s asking for you.”
He blinked slowly, rubbing one eye. “She home already?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, amused, “because it’s nearly four.”
“Right,” he said around a gargantuan yawn that brought his fangs out for a moment. She passed him the blood, watching with one eyebrow raised as it disappeared, before trying again.
“Better?”
He licked his lips, chasing the taste and looking mildly perturbed. Buffy had long ago stopped finding the blood thing gross. Sure, she’d rather he didn’t kiss her immediately after, but she felt the same about his ongoing love affair with various fried onion-based dishes. But there was something about his expression just then that somehow didn’t sit right with her. And what was with the sleeping beauty routine? The reluctant wake up was really not his style, especially when she wasn’t even in bed with him, plus, he’d been sleeping later than usual. Probably because he’d been coming home later, but she couldn’t tell if it was part of the generalized Spike weirdness she’d been picking up on this week or if he’d just been getting all the best fights on patrol. With the way they split things these days, Buffy would do an early sweep after putting Dawn to bed, and he’d take the late shift coming back from the bar, but even so, he’d been pushing sunrise the last couple of mornings, and that wasn’t normal.
“Yeah,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks.”
He was naked from the waist up, of course. Given the choice she knew he’d sleep completely naked, but there’d been one too many run ins with her mom over the years, not to mention the various and sundry parental duties that got either or both of them out of bed, and so these days he’d conceded to wearing soft cotton pajama pants that, frankly, made his ass look amazing, and had the added benefit of riding about as low on his hips as was possible while still maintaining an admittedly minimal amount of decency. Sleep-rumpled and gorgeous, she never got tired of looking at him. Mmm, chest of Spike.
“Slayer,” he said, mockingly. “Eyes up top, love.”
“Goodies down below,” she retorted.
He rose and got all up in her space in that way she liked, but, “Ah ah, blood breath. No smoochy for you until you’ve rinsed and spat.”
“Unfair,” he said, giving her his best pout, and yeah, okay, she was being kinda grabby with the abs and the butt, but hey, it wasn’t her fault her boyfriend looked like that, and, well, maybe blood breath wasn’t so bad. It was only blood, after all. Not like she’d never bitten her tongue before, or licked a split lip...
They were interrupted a couple of minutes later, and thankfully before any vital clothing had come off, by three-and-a-half feet of adorableness who had nonetheless yet to grasp the concept of knocking.
“Daddy, get dressed,” she said imperiously, crashing through the door.
Spike slipped deftly behind Buffy to save innocent eyes from what was going on beneath his waistband and sighed. “What do you know? Bitty Buffy.”
“Huh,” Buffy said, with a flash of pride. That entrance had been kind of slayer-like.
“Woopert wants to ask you something.”
“Who?” Buffy said to Dawn, as Spike oh-so-casually slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his erection up against her ass. Bastard.
“Woopert.”
“Who?”
“Woo-” Dawn’s whole face scrunched up in concentration. “Rooo-pert.”
Buffy didn’t really get why her mom insisted on Dawn using Giles’s first name. Something to do with manners, probably. To her it was just weird and icky, but whatever. Giles seemed oddly charmed by it.
“Good girl. You can tell him we’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She gave them a considering look. “Are you going to practice wrestling?”
“Um…” Buffy floundered, half-distracted by the feel of Spike’s cool breath on her neck. “Not sure what you mean, sweetie. We’re going patrolling, but that’s later.”
“Franny in school says that when her parents practice wrestling she gets to eat a whole bowl of ice cream and watch whatever movie she wants.”
“Oh my god,” Buffy said faintly, realization landing with a thunk. Against her back, she could actually feel Spike trying not to laugh.
“So is patrolling like wrestling? Because I want ice cream.”
“What do you think, Slayer?” Spike asked, giving a surreptitious little thrust of his hips. “Any wrestling on the cards tonight?”
“Shut up, Spike,” she said, stepping away from him in panicked retaliation.
“Mommy!” Dawn looked delighted. “That was rude.”
Spike met Buffy’s look over her shoulder with the kind of innocent expression that made her instinctively want to punch him. Then again, given that punching was pretty much foreplay for them, that was probably what he was angling for.
“You know I don’t mind that, love,” he said after a beat, turning back to Dawn. “Go on now, don’t keep old Rupes waiting.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “And if you want ice cream, there’s your mark. Complete soft touch for Summers women, he is.”
“Takes one to know one,” Buffy muttered. Dawn sighed explosively, like manipulating treats out of adults was actually hard for her or something, and flapped her arms as she spun around and trotted off back downstairs. Buffy turned on Spike the moment she’d cleared the top of the stairs and smacked him square in the chest.
“I’ve told you before, no innuendos in front of the kid,” she hissed.
“Hey!” he said, hopping back, laughing. “She started it.”
“Right. Great. Five-year-old logic from the hundred-and-twenty-five-year-old vamp.” Buffy huffed. “I think I need to have a word with Franny’s mom.”
He shot her a grin as he headed for the bathroom. “Now that is a conversation I’d like to see.”
Anyway, here is a scene from the chapter I'm currently working on. Mildly spoilery for the fic if you've read what's been posted so far (although not really, if you know me at all, heh). Context probably unnecessary, except for the fact that Dawn is Buffy's kid, and is about five-and-a-half in this scene. Warning for sickening Spuffy domestic fluff :D
The Soul Lies Down, Chapter 15 snippet...
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” Buffy said as she entered their bedroom, mug of steaming blood in hand. “Sweet dreams?”
Spike rolled over and gave her an adorably sleep-befuddled look. “What time is it?”
“Nearly four. Dawn’s asking for you.”
He blinked slowly, rubbing one eye. “She home already?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, amused, “because it’s nearly four.”
“Right,” he said around a gargantuan yawn that brought his fangs out for a moment. She passed him the blood, watching with one eyebrow raised as it disappeared, before trying again.
“Better?”
He licked his lips, chasing the taste and looking mildly perturbed. Buffy had long ago stopped finding the blood thing gross. Sure, she’d rather he didn’t kiss her immediately after, but she felt the same about his ongoing love affair with various fried onion-based dishes. But there was something about his expression just then that somehow didn’t sit right with her. And what was with the sleeping beauty routine? The reluctant wake up was really not his style, especially when she wasn’t even in bed with him, plus, he’d been sleeping later than usual. Probably because he’d been coming home later, but she couldn’t tell if it was part of the generalized Spike weirdness she’d been picking up on this week or if he’d just been getting all the best fights on patrol. With the way they split things these days, Buffy would do an early sweep after putting Dawn to bed, and he’d take the late shift coming back from the bar, but even so, he’d been pushing sunrise the last couple of mornings, and that wasn’t normal.
“Yeah,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks.”
He was naked from the waist up, of course. Given the choice she knew he’d sleep completely naked, but there’d been one too many run ins with her mom over the years, not to mention the various and sundry parental duties that got either or both of them out of bed, and so these days he’d conceded to wearing soft cotton pajama pants that, frankly, made his ass look amazing, and had the added benefit of riding about as low on his hips as was possible while still maintaining an admittedly minimal amount of decency. Sleep-rumpled and gorgeous, she never got tired of looking at him. Mmm, chest of Spike.
“Slayer,” he said, mockingly. “Eyes up top, love.”
“Goodies down below,” she retorted.
He rose and got all up in her space in that way she liked, but, “Ah ah, blood breath. No smoochy for you until you’ve rinsed and spat.”
“Unfair,” he said, giving her his best pout, and yeah, okay, she was being kinda grabby with the abs and the butt, but hey, it wasn’t her fault her boyfriend looked like that, and, well, maybe blood breath wasn’t so bad. It was only blood, after all. Not like she’d never bitten her tongue before, or licked a split lip...
They were interrupted a couple of minutes later, and thankfully before any vital clothing had come off, by three-and-a-half feet of adorableness who had nonetheless yet to grasp the concept of knocking.
“Daddy, get dressed,” she said imperiously, crashing through the door.
Spike slipped deftly behind Buffy to save innocent eyes from what was going on beneath his waistband and sighed. “What do you know? Bitty Buffy.”
“Huh,” Buffy said, with a flash of pride. That entrance had been kind of slayer-like.
“Woopert wants to ask you something.”
“Who?” Buffy said to Dawn, as Spike oh-so-casually slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his erection up against her ass. Bastard.
“Woopert.”
“Who?”
“Woo-” Dawn’s whole face scrunched up in concentration. “Rooo-pert.”
Buffy didn’t really get why her mom insisted on Dawn using Giles’s first name. Something to do with manners, probably. To her it was just weird and icky, but whatever. Giles seemed oddly charmed by it.
“Good girl. You can tell him we’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She gave them a considering look. “Are you going to practice wrestling?”
“Um…” Buffy floundered, half-distracted by the feel of Spike’s cool breath on her neck. “Not sure what you mean, sweetie. We’re going patrolling, but that’s later.”
“Franny in school says that when her parents practice wrestling she gets to eat a whole bowl of ice cream and watch whatever movie she wants.”
“Oh my god,” Buffy said faintly, realization landing with a thunk. Against her back, she could actually feel Spike trying not to laugh.
“So is patrolling like wrestling? Because I want ice cream.”
“What do you think, Slayer?” Spike asked, giving a surreptitious little thrust of his hips. “Any wrestling on the cards tonight?”
“Shut up, Spike,” she said, stepping away from him in panicked retaliation.
“Mommy!” Dawn looked delighted. “That was rude.”
Spike met Buffy’s look over her shoulder with the kind of innocent expression that made her instinctively want to punch him. Then again, given that punching was pretty much foreplay for them, that was probably what he was angling for.
“You know I don’t mind that, love,” he said after a beat, turning back to Dawn. “Go on now, don’t keep old Rupes waiting.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “And if you want ice cream, there’s your mark. Complete soft touch for Summers women, he is.”
“Takes one to know one,” Buffy muttered. Dawn sighed explosively, like manipulating treats out of adults was actually hard for her or something, and flapped her arms as she spun around and trotted off back downstairs. Buffy turned on Spike the moment she’d cleared the top of the stairs and smacked him square in the chest.
“I’ve told you before, no innuendos in front of the kid,” she hissed.
“Hey!” he said, hopping back, laughing. “She started it.”
“Right. Great. Five-year-old logic from the hundred-and-twenty-five-year-old vamp.” Buffy huffed. “I think I need to have a word with Franny’s mom.”
He shot her a grin as he headed for the bathroom. “Now that is a conversation I’d like to see.”