S9 Fic: Hers
I bring S9 fic for penny_lane_42! This follows from the S9 preview pages of Buffy and Spike at her party and is 3,100 words instead of 500 words because word limits and Alexandra are un-mixy things.
Title: Hers
Rating: PG-13
A/N: The “Trouble” demons belong to Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek.
“He’s so cute.”
“Girl, he’s not cute, he’s hot.”
“Tyler, I seriously doubt he swings your way, so don’t even think it.”
“Oh God, if he swings that way, I think I’ll cry,” piped up Annie. Cassidy nodded in commiseration.
“Who’s swinging?” demanded Buffy, finally reaching their side with another margarita in each hand. She wasn’t really sure what swings (maybe swing dancing?) had to do with anything, but she had heard enough to get the gist of her friends’ conversation: there was eye candy in her apartment, and she wanted in.
“We’re talking about your friend,” said Cassidy, gesturing with her own glass toward the corner of the room.
Buffy followed the colorful drink to see Spike standing next to Andrew, who was chatting animatedly while the vampire nursed a beer and looked bored.
She frowned. Hey. That was her eye candy.
Unless they meant Andrew. In which case, ugh. She hadn’t had that much to drink.
Buffy squinted to make sure.
Nope. Definitely not.
“Hey,” she said out loud, as Cassidy asked, “Is he single?”
Buffy glared at her. “No.”
“Ooh, somebody’s possessive,” said Tyler. “I’ll take that now…” He snagged one of the margaritas. Buffy briefly switched her glare to him. He didn’t look fazed, which was kind of disappointing.
“But you’re not- I thought you weren’t dating anyone,” said Annie.
Buffy considered this. Was she dating anyone? Did hanging out with Spike several nights a week during patrol or in Dawn’s living room or on the balcony or sometime-in-the-near-future in her brand-new-freaking-awesome apartment count as dating? Sure, they mostly talked about slaying and demons, but she also made fun of his taste in music and he made fun of her lack-thereof pop culture knowledge and sometimes they ate chicken wings he had brought over or leftover pizza together and they talked about their days and they talked about what movies they wanted to see, and one of these days Buffy was going to rent one of them from Blockbuster and they were going to make a night out of it, and two days ago he had said her new top really complemented her eyes…which she was pretty sure had made sense at the time, but it didn’t really make sense now because tops couldn’t compliment eyes, but whatever.
What was the question?
Her eyes refocused on the corner.
Mine.
She floated away from her friends, ignoring Cassidy’s, “Secrets, secrets are no fun, Summers!”
Spike’s eyes met hers when she was only halfway toward him. He half-smiled.
He had really pretty eyes. All blue and sparkling. Those eyes could compliment tops.
Buffy lurched to a stop. As she bounced on the balls of her feet, she had the vague sensation that she’d been about to run into him; they were really close, close enough that she wouldn’t even have to extend her arm the full way to touch his cheek or his hair. She liked the way his hair looked tonight, gelled but not too gelly that she couldn’t easily mess it up into curls like the ones at the back of his neck. Maybe she’d do that later. First she should say hello.
Buffy struck a dramatic pose: she stuck her hip out as far as it would go and put her hand on it.
“Spike,” she said. Dramatically.
His eyebrow arched. Not the scarred one. She really liked his scar. She liked his other eyebrow, too, of course. She tried not to discriminate, even though one had a sexy, appealing scar and one didn’t.
“Slayer.”
She pouted. “You have to call me Buffy. We’re a party.”
“Right. The muggles. So to speak.”
“Not because of them, because we’re partying. Not working. I’m Buffy.”
“You’re always Buffy.”
“No. I want you to see me as Buffy.” She felt a little growl building up inside her. Why wasn’t he getting it?
He looked amused. Stupid Spike.
She didn’t mean that.
“I always…never mind. Let’s try this again. You say ‘Spike.’”
“Spike,” she repeated obediently.
“Buffy.”
“Andrew.”
They turned to stare at their forgotten companion. He glanced between them, looking more resigned than hopeful.
Why was he still there? Didn’t he realize that this was Buffy-and-Spike time?
She tried to think of something persuasive to say but only came up with, “Please go away.” In the back of her mind was the vague thought that tomorrow she’d have to make this up to him.
Andrew sighed. “Fine,” he sulked, and plodded off.
“Cheers, mate,” called Spike. Then he looked at her, smiling again. “Buffy.”
She smiled too, satisfied. “Good.” Then she tried to scowl again, though it was a little hard when he looked so happy. “I can’t leave you alone, you know.”
After showing him off to her friends when he had arrived, she had chatted with him for a bit, but her hostess duties had called her away before they could…well, she didn’t really know what was supposed to have come next. But clearly showing him off had been a mistake.
“I leave you alone for an hour, and everyone starts thinking you’re single.”
Both eyebrows shot up this time.
“Do they now?”
She nodded and jerked her head back in the direction she had come. “Cassidy, Annie, Tyler.”
“Tyler?”
She didn’t understand why he looked so appalled. Then his expression shifted to the one that made her tingle down there. His eyes narrowed. Buffy felt her skin grow hot.
“Is there a reason they shouldn’t think I’m single, pet?”
She sipped from her margarita, partly to cool the burst of heat inside her and partly to stall while she figured out what to say.
Other than Yes, of course.
She just had to figure out how to explain the reason…
“I don’t want them to,” she finally said, a little defiantly. She felt like pouting again. Why was he being difficult?
After a weird silent moment Spike gestured with his beer at her glass. “How many of those have you had to drink, pet?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. A few.”
“Hmm.”
“What does hmm mean?”
He didn’t answer her question. “How about I take this for now.” Before she realized what he was doing, he had plucked her drink from her hand.
“Hey! Give it back!”
To her fury, he held it over his head. She jumped.
It didn’t work.
“Just let me have it for a few minutes,” he said. “Please.”
“No.”
“I’ll give it to you if you can tell me why they shouldn’t think I’m single.”
“I told you already! I don’t want them to!”
“Why don’t you want them to?”
“Spike! Give me my drink!”
“In a few minutes,” he assured her. “Please, Buffy?”
He blinked those stupid, pretty, really blue eyes at her. She felt her anger evaporate.
“Fine,” she huffed. “It wasn’t that good anyway. I’ve already had, like, six.”
“Very impressive,” he said, and twisted to put the glass on the highest shelf of Meg’s super-tall bookcase.
She glared at him. Then she decided that wasn’t enough and smacked his chest.
“You’re being very bossy.”
“I’m being bossy?” He rubbed his chest. “You’re the one who doesn’t want other birds looking at me.”
“What birds?”
He chuckled. “Never mind.”
“You keep saying that.”
“All right, I’ll stop.”
She frowned. She didn’t think Spike was normally this agreeable. He was probably about to do something naughty. She’d have to keep an eye on him.
“So, Slayer…enjoying your party so far?”
That was nice of him to ask. Although he had called her ‘Slayer’ again. Sooner or later one of her guests was going to hear, and then someone was going to have a lot of explaining to do, mister!
But he wouldn’t really be Spike if he didn’t call her ‘Slayer.’ Normally she kind of liked it. As long as he called her ‘Buffy’ a lot of the time, too.
“Yes! I am. It is very…” She swiveled slowly around the room. “…Loud. And colorful. Like a circus.”
“One way to put it,” said Spike. “Everyone’s having fun, so there’s that.”
“Of course they’re having fun. I throw a really…really good party.”
“That you do, love.”
She liked it when he called her ‘love’ even more than when he called her ‘Slayer.’
“Except for birthday parties. Buffy birthday parties suck. Buffy birthdays suck. Remember when we got trapped in my house in Sunnydale?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You were being all…” She waved a hand, not sure what she was trying to say. “You were coming onto me.”
His smile faded. He looked down at his beer and then off to the side. She felt a flicker of disappointment. Had she said something wrong? She didn’t want to make him stop smiling.
He looked back at her. “Yeah. Well. Slightly different person then.”
“No!”
He stared at her.
“I mean, yes. Slightly different.” He was talking about his soul, right? Warmth filled her stomach. “I mean, no, like, no you can…you can be the same, too. You can come onto me.”
He still stared at her. But something had changed in his eyes…they were sparkling again.
“Well, that’s something,” said Spike, and his voice sounded weird and cracked. He cleared his throat. “And not all Buffy birthdays suck. You had a pretty good birthday this year I recall.”
She felt her own eyebrows rise. “Those trouble demons invaded the apartment.”
“The Tribbles.”
“Yeah, those.”
“But we got rid of them before the day ended. And the ice cream cake was bloody delicious.”
“That was good,” Buffy conceded. Plus, she remembered that Spike had given her a really nice hug that night. He didn’t usually hug her, but on her birthday he’d sort of put his arms around her to pat her back, and on impulse she had grabbed him and hung on so that it turned into a real, squashy, tight, totally-bear-like hug.
“Besides, the Tribbles were all little and furry and not that bad anyway.”
“I knew you liked them,” she accused.
“Did not! Just thought they were…tolerable. For demonic little critters.”
“Hmph. I only think one demon is tolerable.”
Spike grew very still.
“That’s you,” she said, since he didn’t seem to get it. “Duh.”
“Duh,” he echoed, and his voice sounded all weird again, like there was something stuck in it. “Right.”
“Because you’re mine,” she added. “My demon. My vampire. My man. Hee, manpire. You’re my manpire.”
It took five seconds of grinning at her new name for him for Buffy to realize she hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud.
Whoops.
He swallowed. Then he swallowed again. She found herself looking at the bobby thing in his throat (what was it called?) more than his eyes. His eyes were making her feel hot and nervous, mostly in a good way, but also in a her-face-felt-like-it-was-on-fire way.
“Hmm,” he said.
She really hated that word. Sound. Whatever.
Buffy didn’t know what was wrong with calling him her manpire (he was, after all), but she got the sense that it had made him uncomfortable. And that made her uncomfortable, which was never fun.
She looked around her very loud, very colorful party again, trying to think of something to say, and saw Dawn and Xander on the other side of the room. They were dancing close together, bouncing without any pattern to some techno-pop song that she didn’t recognize.
They looked really happy.
A sense of dismay washed over Buffy, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. But she knew that she wanted to be dancing, too, and more importantly she wanted to be dancing with someone, and most importantly, she wanted to be dancing with Spike.
She looked back and found him watching her. His gaze was…what was the word…intense. Like he could see right through her clothes.
She wished she could see through his.
Her body was feeling all hot again.
“Dance with me,” Buffy blurted.
He blinked.
When he hadn’t moved for several seconds, Buffy stepped forward and draped her arms around his neck. His nostrils went all flare-y, and she heard him inhale breath that he so did not need.
“Not really the right music for this sort of dancing, love,” he murmured, but he put his beer on the bookshelf and clasped her waist with both hands.
“I don’t care,” said Buffy.
He just looked at her. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it didn’t really count as dancing if their feet weren’t moving.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I called you my manpire.”
Spike made a noise like he was going to speak, but then didn’t. “I-” He cleared his throat. “I’m not mad. I don’t mind.”
“So I can call you my manpire?”
He bent his head so that all of a sudden his forehead was touching hers. Buffy’s breath caught.
“Always,” he whispered.
“Oh,” she breathed, a little surprised. “Okay.” Sparks seemed to be lighting under her skin, fizzling into tendrils of warmth that went everywhere at once. She had the distinct feeling that he was answering a different question, but didn’t know what it was. Maybe she’d be able to figure it out in the morning.
Spike lifted his head from hers. His hold on her waist tightened, and he began to shuffle his feet steadily from side to side. Buffy mimicked him. It felt slow and a little awkward and didn’t seem anything like what Dawn and Xander were doing, but she liked being in his arms. She felt very…safe. Wanted.
“Your friends are watching us,” said Spike, his voice low.
Buffy twisted her neck and saw Cassie whisper something to Annie. Tyler winked at her.
She turned back, remembering why she had come over in the first place and wishing the party would disappear so she and Spike could be alone.
“They’re not allowed to date you,” she mumbled into his chest. “You’re not allowed to date.”
“I’m not, am I?”
“No.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up. There was a weird expression on his face, like he couldn’t decide whether to speak or not. She hoped he wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Am I allowed to date you?”
Buffy blinked. Date me? She hadn’t expected…hadn’t thought about it like that…
Dating Spike…dating Spike would mean everyone else knew he was hers, too. Dating Spike meant she could see him whenever she wanted, and she could hug him on days that weren’t her birthday, and their movie night would be a date night, and after patrol she could do something with him about all her antsy, itchy, hot feelings, like the kind she felt right now…
“Yes,” she whispered. “You should date me.”
He paused again, even longer this time, and she felt a flicker of fear that he didn’t want those same things, too. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was happy or sad. His lips were trembling, first up and then down, in a way that didn’t make any sense.
He bent his head toward hers again, and she felt a trickle of relief. “I really hope you remember this in the morning, Buffy,” he whispered.
“I will,” she promised. “Kiss me.”
He didn’t. His eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips, but he didn’t move.
So she did.
She pulled away after only a second to make sure it was all right and found him smiling. Encouraged, she leaned forward and kissed him again. His lips were soft and familiar, and she wondered why she hadn’t done this months ago when he’d first flown back into her life on his spaceship. Probably because the world had been ending and…other things that she wouldn’t think about now because she was kissing Spike and it felt so right. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss.
He pulled away. Buffy had the vivid sensation that she had lost her balance, although her feet didn’t seem to have moved. She looked up at him, disappointed and confused, and thought he looked…what was the word…rueful? Regretful? She had the distinct feeling that neither of those was good.
Spike licked his lips. “Pet, I think we should save the…the rest for later. When you’re a bit more in your noggin.”
“I’m in my toboggan,” said Buffy indignantly.
Spike smiled. She leaned forward.
He grasped her shoulders and pushed her back. She fought a glare. Didn’t he want to kiss her?
“You know I like having you all to myself, Buffy.” His voice was throaty, and her glare turned into a smirk all by itself; she did know, even if the memories were a bit fuzzy now and she didn’t know how she knew.
“But maybe you should play hostess for a little while. Talk to some of your other guests, yeah? Make sure they’re having a good time.”
“Meg and Anaheed can do that,” said Buffy. That was what roommates were for.
“You can help them.”
She pouted extra hard. Those memories were hazy, too, but she was even more positive that her lower lip had great-power-and-responsibility over Spike.
“And I’ll help you,” added Spike.
If Spike hostess-ed with her, that was another way for everyone to know he was hers…
She sighed, remembering the flaw. “But then people will eat you.”
“Eat me?”
“You’re candy.”
“Oh…well, you can protect me.”
Buffy considered this. “I could do that. I like protecting you.” She chewed her lip. “But it’s easier if I just lock you in my bedroom. Then you’re all mine.”
His eyes went very round and as bright blue as sapphires. His voice dropped so low that shivers swept up and down Buffy’s spine. “If you still want to do that tomorrow, love, I promise you can lock me in your bedroom for as long as you want.”
Buffy didn’t think her heart was supposed to be beating this fast unless she’d been slaying or having really, really good…
Feeling a big dizzy, she considered pouting again, but Spike had already promised and she didn’t want to do anything that might make him take it back. “All right,” she agreed. “We’ll finish dancing and then be hostesses and have fantastic sex later.”
Spike’s grin was enough to make her regret her restraint. “That’s my girl.”
He brushed her lips with his, and though it was far too innocent for Buffy’s liking, his hands were warm on her back again, drawing her close into what felt a lot like an embrace, and her cheek felt very right pressed against his shoulder, and they were swaying again in a way that felt much more comfortable than before.
My girl.
She really liked that.
Title: Hers
Rating: PG-13
A/N: The “Trouble” demons belong to Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek.
“He’s so cute.”
“Girl, he’s not cute, he’s hot.”
“Tyler, I seriously doubt he swings your way, so don’t even think it.”
“Oh God, if he swings that way, I think I’ll cry,” piped up Annie. Cassidy nodded in commiseration.
“Who’s swinging?” demanded Buffy, finally reaching their side with another margarita in each hand. She wasn’t really sure what swings (maybe swing dancing?) had to do with anything, but she had heard enough to get the gist of her friends’ conversation: there was eye candy in her apartment, and she wanted in.
“We’re talking about your friend,” said Cassidy, gesturing with her own glass toward the corner of the room.
Buffy followed the colorful drink to see Spike standing next to Andrew, who was chatting animatedly while the vampire nursed a beer and looked bored.
She frowned. Hey. That was her eye candy.
Unless they meant Andrew. In which case, ugh. She hadn’t had that much to drink.
Buffy squinted to make sure.
Nope. Definitely not.
“Hey,” she said out loud, as Cassidy asked, “Is he single?”
Buffy glared at her. “No.”
“Ooh, somebody’s possessive,” said Tyler. “I’ll take that now…” He snagged one of the margaritas. Buffy briefly switched her glare to him. He didn’t look fazed, which was kind of disappointing.
“But you’re not- I thought you weren’t dating anyone,” said Annie.
Buffy considered this. Was she dating anyone? Did hanging out with Spike several nights a week during patrol or in Dawn’s living room or on the balcony or sometime-in-the-near-future in her brand-new-freaking-awesome apartment count as dating? Sure, they mostly talked about slaying and demons, but she also made fun of his taste in music and he made fun of her lack-thereof pop culture knowledge and sometimes they ate chicken wings he had brought over or leftover pizza together and they talked about their days and they talked about what movies they wanted to see, and one of these days Buffy was going to rent one of them from Blockbuster and they were going to make a night out of it, and two days ago he had said her new top really complemented her eyes…which she was pretty sure had made sense at the time, but it didn’t really make sense now because tops couldn’t compliment eyes, but whatever.
What was the question?
Her eyes refocused on the corner.
Mine.
She floated away from her friends, ignoring Cassidy’s, “Secrets, secrets are no fun, Summers!”
Spike’s eyes met hers when she was only halfway toward him. He half-smiled.
He had really pretty eyes. All blue and sparkling. Those eyes could compliment tops.
Buffy lurched to a stop. As she bounced on the balls of her feet, she had the vague sensation that she’d been about to run into him; they were really close, close enough that she wouldn’t even have to extend her arm the full way to touch his cheek or his hair. She liked the way his hair looked tonight, gelled but not too gelly that she couldn’t easily mess it up into curls like the ones at the back of his neck. Maybe she’d do that later. First she should say hello.
Buffy struck a dramatic pose: she stuck her hip out as far as it would go and put her hand on it.
“Spike,” she said. Dramatically.
His eyebrow arched. Not the scarred one. She really liked his scar. She liked his other eyebrow, too, of course. She tried not to discriminate, even though one had a sexy, appealing scar and one didn’t.
“Slayer.”
She pouted. “You have to call me Buffy. We’re a party.”
“Right. The muggles. So to speak.”
“Not because of them, because we’re partying. Not working. I’m Buffy.”
“You’re always Buffy.”
“No. I want you to see me as Buffy.” She felt a little growl building up inside her. Why wasn’t he getting it?
He looked amused. Stupid Spike.
She didn’t mean that.
“I always…never mind. Let’s try this again. You say ‘Spike.’”
“Spike,” she repeated obediently.
“Buffy.”
“Andrew.”
They turned to stare at their forgotten companion. He glanced between them, looking more resigned than hopeful.
Why was he still there? Didn’t he realize that this was Buffy-and-Spike time?
She tried to think of something persuasive to say but only came up with, “Please go away.” In the back of her mind was the vague thought that tomorrow she’d have to make this up to him.
Andrew sighed. “Fine,” he sulked, and plodded off.
“Cheers, mate,” called Spike. Then he looked at her, smiling again. “Buffy.”
She smiled too, satisfied. “Good.” Then she tried to scowl again, though it was a little hard when he looked so happy. “I can’t leave you alone, you know.”
After showing him off to her friends when he had arrived, she had chatted with him for a bit, but her hostess duties had called her away before they could…well, she didn’t really know what was supposed to have come next. But clearly showing him off had been a mistake.
“I leave you alone for an hour, and everyone starts thinking you’re single.”
Both eyebrows shot up this time.
“Do they now?”
She nodded and jerked her head back in the direction she had come. “Cassidy, Annie, Tyler.”
“Tyler?”
She didn’t understand why he looked so appalled. Then his expression shifted to the one that made her tingle down there. His eyes narrowed. Buffy felt her skin grow hot.
“Is there a reason they shouldn’t think I’m single, pet?”
She sipped from her margarita, partly to cool the burst of heat inside her and partly to stall while she figured out what to say.
Other than Yes, of course.
She just had to figure out how to explain the reason…
“I don’t want them to,” she finally said, a little defiantly. She felt like pouting again. Why was he being difficult?
After a weird silent moment Spike gestured with his beer at her glass. “How many of those have you had to drink, pet?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. A few.”
“Hmm.”
“What does hmm mean?”
He didn’t answer her question. “How about I take this for now.” Before she realized what he was doing, he had plucked her drink from her hand.
“Hey! Give it back!”
To her fury, he held it over his head. She jumped.
It didn’t work.
“Just let me have it for a few minutes,” he said. “Please.”
“No.”
“I’ll give it to you if you can tell me why they shouldn’t think I’m single.”
“I told you already! I don’t want them to!”
“Why don’t you want them to?”
“Spike! Give me my drink!”
“In a few minutes,” he assured her. “Please, Buffy?”
He blinked those stupid, pretty, really blue eyes at her. She felt her anger evaporate.
“Fine,” she huffed. “It wasn’t that good anyway. I’ve already had, like, six.”
“Very impressive,” he said, and twisted to put the glass on the highest shelf of Meg’s super-tall bookcase.
She glared at him. Then she decided that wasn’t enough and smacked his chest.
“You’re being very bossy.”
“I’m being bossy?” He rubbed his chest. “You’re the one who doesn’t want other birds looking at me.”
“What birds?”
He chuckled. “Never mind.”
“You keep saying that.”
“All right, I’ll stop.”
She frowned. She didn’t think Spike was normally this agreeable. He was probably about to do something naughty. She’d have to keep an eye on him.
“So, Slayer…enjoying your party so far?”
That was nice of him to ask. Although he had called her ‘Slayer’ again. Sooner or later one of her guests was going to hear, and then someone was going to have a lot of explaining to do, mister!
But he wouldn’t really be Spike if he didn’t call her ‘Slayer.’ Normally she kind of liked it. As long as he called her ‘Buffy’ a lot of the time, too.
“Yes! I am. It is very…” She swiveled slowly around the room. “…Loud. And colorful. Like a circus.”
“One way to put it,” said Spike. “Everyone’s having fun, so there’s that.”
“Of course they’re having fun. I throw a really…really good party.”
“That you do, love.”
She liked it when he called her ‘love’ even more than when he called her ‘Slayer.’
“Except for birthday parties. Buffy birthday parties suck. Buffy birthdays suck. Remember when we got trapped in my house in Sunnydale?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You were being all…” She waved a hand, not sure what she was trying to say. “You were coming onto me.”
His smile faded. He looked down at his beer and then off to the side. She felt a flicker of disappointment. Had she said something wrong? She didn’t want to make him stop smiling.
He looked back at her. “Yeah. Well. Slightly different person then.”
“No!”
He stared at her.
“I mean, yes. Slightly different.” He was talking about his soul, right? Warmth filled her stomach. “I mean, no, like, no you can…you can be the same, too. You can come onto me.”
He still stared at her. But something had changed in his eyes…they were sparkling again.
“Well, that’s something,” said Spike, and his voice sounded weird and cracked. He cleared his throat. “And not all Buffy birthdays suck. You had a pretty good birthday this year I recall.”
She felt her own eyebrows rise. “Those trouble demons invaded the apartment.”
“The Tribbles.”
“Yeah, those.”
“But we got rid of them before the day ended. And the ice cream cake was bloody delicious.”
“That was good,” Buffy conceded. Plus, she remembered that Spike had given her a really nice hug that night. He didn’t usually hug her, but on her birthday he’d sort of put his arms around her to pat her back, and on impulse she had grabbed him and hung on so that it turned into a real, squashy, tight, totally-bear-like hug.
“Besides, the Tribbles were all little and furry and not that bad anyway.”
“I knew you liked them,” she accused.
“Did not! Just thought they were…tolerable. For demonic little critters.”
“Hmph. I only think one demon is tolerable.”
Spike grew very still.
“That’s you,” she said, since he didn’t seem to get it. “Duh.”
“Duh,” he echoed, and his voice sounded all weird again, like there was something stuck in it. “Right.”
“Because you’re mine,” she added. “My demon. My vampire. My man. Hee, manpire. You’re my manpire.”
It took five seconds of grinning at her new name for him for Buffy to realize she hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud.
Whoops.
He swallowed. Then he swallowed again. She found herself looking at the bobby thing in his throat (what was it called?) more than his eyes. His eyes were making her feel hot and nervous, mostly in a good way, but also in a her-face-felt-like-it-was-on-fire way.
“Hmm,” he said.
She really hated that word. Sound. Whatever.
Buffy didn’t know what was wrong with calling him her manpire (he was, after all), but she got the sense that it had made him uncomfortable. And that made her uncomfortable, which was never fun.
She looked around her very loud, very colorful party again, trying to think of something to say, and saw Dawn and Xander on the other side of the room. They were dancing close together, bouncing without any pattern to some techno-pop song that she didn’t recognize.
They looked really happy.
A sense of dismay washed over Buffy, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. But she knew that she wanted to be dancing, too, and more importantly she wanted to be dancing with someone, and most importantly, she wanted to be dancing with Spike.
She looked back and found him watching her. His gaze was…what was the word…intense. Like he could see right through her clothes.
She wished she could see through his.
Her body was feeling all hot again.
“Dance with me,” Buffy blurted.
He blinked.
When he hadn’t moved for several seconds, Buffy stepped forward and draped her arms around his neck. His nostrils went all flare-y, and she heard him inhale breath that he so did not need.
“Not really the right music for this sort of dancing, love,” he murmured, but he put his beer on the bookshelf and clasped her waist with both hands.
“I don’t care,” said Buffy.
He just looked at her. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it didn’t really count as dancing if their feet weren’t moving.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I called you my manpire.”
Spike made a noise like he was going to speak, but then didn’t. “I-” He cleared his throat. “I’m not mad. I don’t mind.”
“So I can call you my manpire?”
He bent his head so that all of a sudden his forehead was touching hers. Buffy’s breath caught.
“Always,” he whispered.
“Oh,” she breathed, a little surprised. “Okay.” Sparks seemed to be lighting under her skin, fizzling into tendrils of warmth that went everywhere at once. She had the distinct feeling that he was answering a different question, but didn’t know what it was. Maybe she’d be able to figure it out in the morning.
Spike lifted his head from hers. His hold on her waist tightened, and he began to shuffle his feet steadily from side to side. Buffy mimicked him. It felt slow and a little awkward and didn’t seem anything like what Dawn and Xander were doing, but she liked being in his arms. She felt very…safe. Wanted.
“Your friends are watching us,” said Spike, his voice low.
Buffy twisted her neck and saw Cassie whisper something to Annie. Tyler winked at her.
She turned back, remembering why she had come over in the first place and wishing the party would disappear so she and Spike could be alone.
“They’re not allowed to date you,” she mumbled into his chest. “You’re not allowed to date.”
“I’m not, am I?”
“No.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up. There was a weird expression on his face, like he couldn’t decide whether to speak or not. She hoped he wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Am I allowed to date you?”
Buffy blinked. Date me? She hadn’t expected…hadn’t thought about it like that…
Dating Spike…dating Spike would mean everyone else knew he was hers, too. Dating Spike meant she could see him whenever she wanted, and she could hug him on days that weren’t her birthday, and their movie night would be a date night, and after patrol she could do something with him about all her antsy, itchy, hot feelings, like the kind she felt right now…
“Yes,” she whispered. “You should date me.”
He paused again, even longer this time, and she felt a flicker of fear that he didn’t want those same things, too. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was happy or sad. His lips were trembling, first up and then down, in a way that didn’t make any sense.
He bent his head toward hers again, and she felt a trickle of relief. “I really hope you remember this in the morning, Buffy,” he whispered.
“I will,” she promised. “Kiss me.”
He didn’t. His eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips, but he didn’t move.
So she did.
She pulled away after only a second to make sure it was all right and found him smiling. Encouraged, she leaned forward and kissed him again. His lips were soft and familiar, and she wondered why she hadn’t done this months ago when he’d first flown back into her life on his spaceship. Probably because the world had been ending and…other things that she wouldn’t think about now because she was kissing Spike and it felt so right. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss.
He pulled away. Buffy had the vivid sensation that she had lost her balance, although her feet didn’t seem to have moved. She looked up at him, disappointed and confused, and thought he looked…what was the word…rueful? Regretful? She had the distinct feeling that neither of those was good.
Spike licked his lips. “Pet, I think we should save the…the rest for later. When you’re a bit more in your noggin.”
“I’m in my toboggan,” said Buffy indignantly.
Spike smiled. She leaned forward.
He grasped her shoulders and pushed her back. She fought a glare. Didn’t he want to kiss her?
“You know I like having you all to myself, Buffy.” His voice was throaty, and her glare turned into a smirk all by itself; she did know, even if the memories were a bit fuzzy now and she didn’t know how she knew.
“But maybe you should play hostess for a little while. Talk to some of your other guests, yeah? Make sure they’re having a good time.”
“Meg and Anaheed can do that,” said Buffy. That was what roommates were for.
“You can help them.”
She pouted extra hard. Those memories were hazy, too, but she was even more positive that her lower lip had great-power-and-responsibility over Spike.
“And I’ll help you,” added Spike.
If Spike hostess-ed with her, that was another way for everyone to know he was hers…
She sighed, remembering the flaw. “But then people will eat you.”
“Eat me?”
“You’re candy.”
“Oh…well, you can protect me.”
Buffy considered this. “I could do that. I like protecting you.” She chewed her lip. “But it’s easier if I just lock you in my bedroom. Then you’re all mine.”
His eyes went very round and as bright blue as sapphires. His voice dropped so low that shivers swept up and down Buffy’s spine. “If you still want to do that tomorrow, love, I promise you can lock me in your bedroom for as long as you want.”
Buffy didn’t think her heart was supposed to be beating this fast unless she’d been slaying or having really, really good…
Feeling a big dizzy, she considered pouting again, but Spike had already promised and she didn’t want to do anything that might make him take it back. “All right,” she agreed. “We’ll finish dancing and then be hostesses and have fantastic sex later.”
Spike’s grin was enough to make her regret her restraint. “That’s my girl.”
He brushed her lips with his, and though it was far too innocent for Buffy’s liking, his hands were warm on her back again, drawing her close into what felt a lot like an embrace, and her cheek felt very right pressed against his shoulder, and they were swaying again in a way that felt much more comfortable than before.
My girl.
She really liked that.