I've loved and been a snide...

[breakmychest]

Characters: Spike, Buffy, CLOSED. (Also a Riley cameo.)
Location: The local fight club.
Planet: Coruscant.
When: Evening... nowish.
What: Spike takes Buffy to see him do his fighting for money thing. It most certainly is not a date.
Rating: PG-13 for dirty British slang and violence.

Comments

[slayerdom]

[ This is not a date. God, she's glad her thoughts are back in her head, because that would be one she doesn't want coming out. She finishes clipping on a hoop earring and grabs her jacket, pulling it on as she heads out of her room. She glances over at Spike and raises an eyebrow. ]

And it didn't occur to you to eat before we were supposed to be leaving? [ Her lips tug in an amused but lecturey look and she just shakes her head at him. ] Come on. Are you ready, or do I get to wait for you to do your hair, too?

[breakmychest]

[Spike drops the now-empty mug in the automated sonic dishwasher and scowls at her.] My hair's fine. [Though he does touch it self-consciously now. Maybe he'll touch up his roots later. Sometimes not having a reflection is really the worst part about being a vampire.]

Anyway, I'm ready. I just got hungry while I was waiting. [He goes over to get the door, though it's not as gentlemanly as it could be since it's... just a button.]

[slayerdom]

[ She just dismisses it and then heads to the door and -- and stops when he hits the button. She shoots him a look. ]

Don't. [ It's said in warning, and she doesn't clarify. Instead, she just steps through the door, pulling her coat tighter around her. Hello, chilly night-time. ] Where is this place, anyway?

[breakmychest]

[Spike pauses for a moment after she passes through, giving her back a kind of sad look before catching up. Things are awkward now that she's back to not being single. Even if he didn't really have a shot with her before, there was a certain amount of flirting he could get away with that just isn't allowed anymore.

Damned if he'll let that stop him.]

Few levels down. There's a lift a few blocks over that'll get us close.

[slayerdom]

Only a few? [ She turns to raise an eyebrow at him, following his lead. ] Well, that almost makes it seem respectable. [ It's the same thing she would have been saying in good-natured teasing anyway, but for some reason it comes off harsher than usual. It's easier for her to slip back into the way things were now, if she doesn't watch herself. ]

[breakmychest]

It almost is. [In turn, his comes out a bit more defensive than usual. He's not ashamed of what he does. It's fun and profitable, and he thinks he'd go back to eating people within a day if he tried some sort of consumer services industry. But something about Buffy's tone makes it feel less like friendly banter and more like an attack.] I've reached the big leagues, love. Few more wins and we'll be taking the lift up.

[slayerdom]

And when that happens, instead of leather, you'll be putting on spandex or lycra tights and calling yourself something luchadorey. [ She can't help the dig. Still. If he's serious, she's actually a little excited to see what this place is like. She'd been expecting back alleys or dirty rings and dingy ickiness. Possibly Brad Pitt. Or Edward Norton. Whichever. Soap made from people-fat. And, well, she still wasn't ruling that last part out. She'd believe it when she saw it. ]

[breakmychest]

What, like "Slayer?" [Not that he'd ever, but if she's going to mock his career, he'll mock her calling. In this, at least, there's not much malice. He respects what she is. She has to know that.

They reach the lift and Spike presses the button to call it.]

[slayerdom]

Not unless you want me demanding royalties for use of my copyright. I mean, I guess it's not my copyright since, well, I didn't exactly get to choose the whole name-my-calling thing. But, well. [ She huffs a little, stepping into the lift as it arrives. ] You get the point.

[breakmychest]

One Slayer's enough for an apartment? [He smirks at her, then corrects himself as he follows her in.] Or, well, two.

[He waves his credit chip at the sensor twice to pay for them both. It's more like a high speed vertical subway than an elevator. But it's a pretty old one, and each pod is only big enough for two people. Because this log clearly needs an awkward, cramped lift ride.]

Luckily, this is Star Wars, not Mexico. I think I'm safe.

[slayerdom]

[ She hunches her shoulders a little to avoid letting hers brush his. Thanks, elevator. You couldn't be a bit bigger? She smiles despite herself at the one Slayer comment because, well, she likes being the Slayer, even if there are two. Her gaze flicks up and away from Spike, as if the ceiling were super fascinating. ]

Doesn't make you spandex-immune. I'm telling you, it's a professional fighting staple. I've watched Pay Per View. It's all stage names and jock straps.

[breakmychest]

I reckon when I get up to that level, I can wear whatever I please in the arena. I doubt any of the blokes who run it have the nads to complain. [He shrugs a little. He's not actively trying to touch Buffy, but he's not making a particular effort to avoid touching either.] One of the benefits that comes with being able to take whatever they throw at me.

[slayerdom]

Sounds like this whole thing is just the trip your ego needs. [ She rolls her eyes a little. ] Which, y'know, explains a lot.

[breakmychest]

It doesn't give much of an ego trip. I could have beaten most of these losers as a human. [...except not really since he was a dorky poet who could barely lift a pen. Buffy doesn't need to know that.] Anyway, I've always got you to knock me down a peg or several, haven't I? [It comes out a little sharper than intended.]

[slayerdom]

[ Buffy catches onto that moodiness. She shoots him a narrow look, then reaches out to hit the lift-stop button. It jerks to a halt and she turns to face him more fully despite the crampedness. ]

What is this?

[breakmychest]

[Spike wasn't expecting that, and it stumbles for a moment before he catches himself. He shoots Buffy an annoyed look.]

What's what? Besides something that's going to make me late.