Drabble for crackers4jenn
Yeah ... this one totally can't be considered a real drabble, as it is fully twice the length a drabble should be. But I literally couldn't bring myself to pare it down further. I suck at this. :P
Title: On the Piss
Author: Unbridled Brunette
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG
Timeline: Season six, pre-OMWF
Word count: 200 (Oops)
“I’ve gotta say…this stuff is way better than what we had the other night.”
Spike looked at her with poorly concealed affection. The Slayer. She was sitting cross-legged on his sarcophagus, brandishing a liquor bottle with cheerful, drunken abandon.
He reached over and gently pulled the bottle from her grasp, relishing the particular, pathetic thrill that came with placing his mouth where hers had just been. He took two swallows before passing it back to her.
“Peach schnapps. You birds always love it.”
Buffy made a face.
“God, you are so sexist. I’m not a bird.”
He smiled. “No?”
“It’s insulting! Like if I’m a bird, then I guess that makes you a cock. Is that it?” She was slurring slightly, staring at him with all the sternness of a Victorian schoolmarm-if Victorian schoolmarms had been permitted to drink hard spirits.
“Sounds about like it, but I've been called worse.” He reached for the bottle again, but she hid it behind her back and shook her head.
“You can’t have any until you act right.”
Unperturbed by this, Spike settled back and began searching his pockets for cigarettes.
“That’s all right, love. I really got it more for you, anyway.”
Title: On the Piss
Author: Unbridled Brunette
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG
Timeline: Season six, pre-OMWF
Word count: 200 (Oops)
“I’ve gotta say…this stuff is way better than what we had the other night.”
Spike looked at her with poorly concealed affection. The Slayer. She was sitting cross-legged on his sarcophagus, brandishing a liquor bottle with cheerful, drunken abandon.
He reached over and gently pulled the bottle from her grasp, relishing the particular, pathetic thrill that came with placing his mouth where hers had just been. He took two swallows before passing it back to her.
“Peach schnapps. You birds always love it.”
Buffy made a face.
“God, you are so sexist. I’m not a bird.”
He smiled. “No?”
“It’s insulting! Like if I’m a bird, then I guess that makes you a cock. Is that it?” She was slurring slightly, staring at him with all the sternness of a Victorian schoolmarm-if Victorian schoolmarms had been permitted to drink hard spirits.
“Sounds about like it, but I've been called worse.” He reached for the bottle again, but she hid it behind her back and shook her head.
“You can’t have any until you act right.”
Unperturbed by this, Spike settled back and began searching his pockets for cigarettes.
“That’s all right, love. I really got it more for you, anyway.”