short attention span theatre brings you: Spuffy!
"Why can't we have regular conversations without fighting or fu--", and Buffy blushed deeply, embarrassing herself and completely enchanting Spike.
He of course, turned away to pull on his jeans, hiding his grin. "Don't know, love, but it all works out well, doesn't it?"
Buffy tucked her hair behind her ears (which were red). "But I just wanted to make out a grocery list, you ADD vampire, you!"
Spike zipped up, and turned around. "I just asked for cigarettes," he said. He tapped his forehead. "Our Dru has-had-a brain that went in great leaps of intuition, an' she was given to the turns of being completely mad, so mebbe I have some o' that, yeah? And Christ knows that Angelus thought three times as fast as Captain Forehead does, and Darla---" Spike noted a less-than-enthusiastic glint in his beloved's eyes, and sequed smoothly, "And that's the demon part of me; the human me which you seem to bring out---"
"I know, I know, you were the original Jack Wild in Oliver, you had to pick a pocket or two, hung out at music halls and learned poetry to recite to girls," Buffy said, buttoning her blouse. "Souled, human or vampire, you're all about the short attention span and impatience." She smiled, suddenly, a smile wider and sunnier than Julia Roberts'. "Which is what I like." She bent and picked up her purse. "And I won't forget your cigarettes."
Spike patted her bottom. "That's my girl," he said.
When she left, he pulled out his copy of The New Yorker and turned to the poetry selections. "Tctch," he muttered. "The shite that gets published..."
He of course, turned away to pull on his jeans, hiding his grin. "Don't know, love, but it all works out well, doesn't it?"
Buffy tucked her hair behind her ears (which were red). "But I just wanted to make out a grocery list, you ADD vampire, you!"
Spike zipped up, and turned around. "I just asked for cigarettes," he said. He tapped his forehead. "Our Dru has-had-a brain that went in great leaps of intuition, an' she was given to the turns of being completely mad, so mebbe I have some o' that, yeah? And Christ knows that Angelus thought three times as fast as Captain Forehead does, and Darla---" Spike noted a less-than-enthusiastic glint in his beloved's eyes, and sequed smoothly, "And that's the demon part of me; the human me which you seem to bring out---"
"I know, I know, you were the original Jack Wild in Oliver, you had to pick a pocket or two, hung out at music halls and learned poetry to recite to girls," Buffy said, buttoning her blouse. "Souled, human or vampire, you're all about the short attention span and impatience." She smiled, suddenly, a smile wider and sunnier than Julia Roberts'. "Which is what I like." She bent and picked up her purse. "And I won't forget your cigarettes."
Spike patted her bottom. "That's my girl," he said.
When she left, he pulled out his copy of The New Yorker and turned to the poetry selections. "Tctch," he muttered. "The shite that gets published..."