BtVS/House M.D. - Be My Valentine - 2-Shot
Okay, these two stories *could* be read separately, but they work so well together that I'm going to post them both right here.
Title: "Be My Valentine"
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/House M.D.
Rating: PG13, T
Summary: While doing some last minute Valentine's Day shopping, a peeved and slightly concussed Buffy meets an aggravating cane-wielding stranger.
Wordcount: ~1600
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to House or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Author's Notes: Post S7 Buffy and an earlier season of House…(obviously, not s3, though).
Be My Valentine
So, she was a thoughtless, selfish bitch, was she? Buffy Summers would show them. She'd show them all. She'd… damn it, she'd send them Valentine cards. Each and every one of them, even if it was the last thing she ever did. Which, considering her current shape, wouldn't be entirely unlikely.
Buffy limped over to the holiday aisle, holding the plastic basket beside her. A worker in a blue vest gave her a wide-eyed glance, but Buffy only glared at the woman until she took off in the opposite direction. Really, lady, really? You work in a 24-hour drug store and you don't expect to see blood-covered crazies out at 2am?Buffy stopped herself from letting out a growl-mostly because she knew the sound would probably hurt her bruised chest-and slipped in front of a stand of plushy monkeys holding giant hearts.
Fifteen bucks? For that? No way. Ok, maybe one for Dawnie. . . Buffy slipped one of the stuffed animals into the basket, and moved along, coming to a stop in front of a giant stand of boxed cards. Sure, they were intended to be given out by school children, but that didn't stop them from being viable options. Now to pick a style, and after a three-hour-long fight with a band of harpies who liked to go for the head, choosing wasn't getting any easier.
Buffy frowned, putting way too much concentration into the decision. Damn Valentine's cards. Such teases, each and every one of them, promising friendship and asking for dates and being all fluffy and cuddly and cute and…. Urg! Buffy took a breath, trying to recall when she'd become so cynical.
The shift in attitude wasn't due to Willow repeatedly degrading Valentine's Day for the marketing ploy it was. Nope, that wasn't it. Also, though it probably should have been a result of her numerous epic-fails in the relationship department, no men were to blame for her current state.
Actually, Buffy could pinpoint the exact moment, she'd started hating on the holiday. It was about twenty-eight minutes ago. Said harpies were dust in the wind-well, more like goop on cement floor-and Buffy was left smiling, a little pun at her lips when she realized she was still in one piece and the two younger slayers behind her were perfectly safe. Then, one of the other girls had gotten a phone call from Scotland, asking for a check-up.
Lucky Buffy, it was Kennedy on the line. And she was in a lovely post-break-up mood. Note the sarcasm.
Sure, it was expected that the teens would say something about Buffy's lack of a date on the grand disaster that was V-day. Buffy could roll with that. To them, she was "old". Her dating life, or lack thereof, was some foreign concept. Buffy recognized that. What was not expected was the jab made about Buffy's lack of caring.
Excuse me? Not caring about the holidays? Or the girls? All because she hadn't exactly been very Santa-like this past Christmas? Did they even realize how many slayers existed? How many contacts, associates, friends, THE Slayer had?
Obviously not. Because the second jr. slayer had laughed along, thinking Buffy was on clean-up-Harpy-goop duty.
"Buffy? Give out Valentines? In what alternate dimension?"
Buffy realized that one little comment wasn't enough to get worked up about. But it got all mix-y with the guilt trip Xander had put her through over not sending Christmas cards to her commanders, and Buffy had lost it, muttering to herself as she stomped out of the warehouse and a few miles away, in search of an open store.
Because, damn it, Buffy was not uncaring or cold or non-give-y.
She reached out, snatching a stack of goofy Japanese cartoon inspired cards. Now, only about a thousand more to go… Buffy figured she could label them, put them in a box and then ship them off to each base… Sure, they'd be late, but-
"No matter how many you send, he's still not going to be your Valentine."
Buffy froze. Because, apparently, she'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed a man-a perfectly human looking man-sneak up beside her.
His cane clicked against the tile impatiently. Buffy's brow wrinkled as she took a full second to study him with an expression that clearly read "W.T.F." Kinda older, at least physically. Mentally? Buffy wasn't so sure, judging from the print-tee and brightly colored skater sneakers and the totally inappropriate comment. Ok, strange guy. Ignore him, he'll go away..
He raised a brow, his bright blue eyes surprisingly clear for the late…early? hour. "Or she?" he amended, wiggling his eye brows. He took a step back, taking her in. Buffy would have slapped him if she'd been in a better state of mind. "Wow, you look like crap."
"Do I know you?" Buffy asked, confused. And, hey! "I don't look like…" Ok, maybe. "You should see the other girl," she finished, and turned back to her cards.
And he didn't move, his head cocked in curiosity. "Fractured ribs, shiner, and that red stuff goes on the inside, you know." He frowned, not entirely kidding. "The other girl still alive?"
Buffy laughed. She couldn't help it. "That's for me to know."
His expression, sparkling eyes and a chewed down grin, was one Buffy recognized. She got it all the time, in fact. Strange Cane Guy was interested. Not like, "I want to take your clothes off with my teeth" interested but "you're hiding something" interested. Great. Just what she needed.
Buffy went back to ignoring him and grabbed another handful of boxed Valentines, not bothering to look at the theme. At random, she selected another row. The basket was officially not big enough.
"I've never actually had a concussed patient develop the sudden need to buy cheap cards."
Buffy nearly dropped the boxes under her arm. She turned, jaw set. "I am not cheap!" she snapped.
He blinked, surprised. Cane Guy shook it off, smirking back. "But still concussed."
Buffy couldn't argue that part. She'd taken a few flights and sudden drops over the course of the battle, and, yes, thank you, observant stranger,her brain did feel like it was about to explode out of her eyeballs.
"And, you still look like fecal matter."
"Thank you, Dr. Obvious," Buffy snapped, wincing at the wave of nausea. She bit it down, glared at the man beside her.
"You know, it's been a really crappy night, and just when my night seemed to be getting better, I found out that everyone I know-ok, maybe not all of them, but several-thinks I'm a heartless bitch just because I usually forget holidays. Could that be because I actually have important stuff to do? Oh, no, it must be because I'm a totally self-important Scrooge who cares nothing for the people she works to protect on a daily basis! Yes, exactly, that's the answer to the Buffy riddle!" Buffy sucked in a breath, tossing down the cards in her hands. The basket quickly followed, a manic smile painted across her lips. "And my solution? Buy cards most third-graders would call lame, because, apparently, I'm hollow inside and can't come up with a better idea!"
Cane Guy was silent a moment. He reached out, snatching a small box off the shelf. It was filled with candied hearts. Giving it a little rattle, he held it out to her.
His over-sincerity was anything but sincere: "Won't you be my Valentine?"
Buffy gently prodded at her forehead with two fingers, ignoring his comical little pout when she didn't reply right away. Mind explosion commencing in five…four…three… "What?"
He huffed, as if put out by having to explain himself. "Come on," he chided, "you know this. It's in the guidebook that falls out of all vaginas after puberty-if a woman wants to prove herself sufficiently busy on a holiday, she need only fall back on the age-old, 'I was too busy hanging out with my boyfriend' excuse."
Buffy stopped herself from commenting on his horrible impression of a female voice. "You want to go on a date?"
"No, I just want to skip to the cuddling." He rolled his eyes and shoved the box of hearts into her hand. "There. You've officially be Valentined. And I'll have you know I'm a quite the catch, a dashingly distinguished doctor with a heart of gold. Or some other heavy metal."
He gestured for her to leave. "Shoo."
Buffy held up the candy hearts. "Are you going to buy me these?"
"Buy them?" He looked taken aback. "I asked you out-the least you can do is spend the mula."
And Buffy finally realized why Cane Guy was actually on the aisle. He was picking up a box of chocolates. For some reason, Buffy had a feeling those weren't going to a significant other. He was on a late-night candy raid. Definitely not as old as she'd first thought.
Knowing it was probably the concussion, she picked a box up off the closest shelf, not cards, but a giant lip-shaped box of chocolates, and pulled a pen from her purse. Buffy scribbled down a message in the to-and-from note on the cardboard. She tossed the chocolate at him, and he caught it against his chest.
"I go Dutch. Happy Valentine's Day," Buffy said, a small smile at her lips, and stepped away. She didn't need to see his face to know that smirk would be back in place when he saw what the candy read.
To: My Cane-bearing Love Doctor
From: Buffy, the Concussed
Thanks for being my Valentine, blue eyes.
Title: Sweet Comic Valentine
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/House M.D.
Rating: PG13, T
Summary: House claims to have a Valentine's Day date. So does Buffy. Funny how life works out. Sequel follow-up to "Be My Valentine".
Wordcount: ~1900
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to House or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
"Sweet Comic Valentine"
"You're planning something."
The accusation came from the door to his office, but House didn't have to look up to know that the narrowed eyes burning through him belonged to Dr. James Wilson, fan of the Big C. House decided it was time to give up on balancing his cane on his forehead, and snatched it before it could clatter to the ground. Then, with an innocent bat of his eyes, he turned to look at his friend.
"What ever do you mean?"
Wilson crossed his arms over the chest of what appeared to be a rather nice suit. "I have no clue why you wanted your team distracted the entire day, attempting to solve the riddle of 'Buffy, the concussed,' but your little ruse didn't work on me."
"Ruse?" House scoffed. "Really? That implies premeditation. I simply threw a package away. They're the ones who chose to dig through my garbage."
Wilson bit down a smile. "You sat it on top of the trash can, the message facing up, and preceded to eat a giant pair of chocolate lips while going over symptoms."
House raised a brow. And?"Did Cameron report me to the sharing police?"
Wilson threw up his hands. "You know what, House. I don't care what this is about. Because if this was some half-assed attempt to ruin Valentine's, it failed." The doctor was somewhat proud of this victory, and continued, "Your patient is better, your team has already left for the day, and I have a date-all is right in the world, and no one cares if you paid one of the nurses to fill out a fake name on a Valentine."
"A nurse? My standards aren't that low." House was wagging a finger at Wilson. "Oh, I know what this is about…"
"What what is about?"
House tapped his cane on the floor, standing. "You're mad I didn't tell you about my girlfriend. It's ok, Wilson. Dr. Phil says jealousy is healthy, and we all know he's an expert."
Wilson frowned. "I'm not…I don't… Damn it, House, we both know you don't have a girlfriend. At least not one who doesn't get paid to spend time with you."
"You wound me, sir." House slapped his hand against his chest, dramatically, but his brow quirked up when his fingers proceeded to pull a plastic card from his overshirt's breast pocket. His smile was wicked when he tapped the front of the card. Wilson leaned forward, trying to get a look at it. From the distance, it appeared to be a hotel keycard. House slipped it into his wallet. "Actually, I have a date tonight, too."
House slid into his jacket, and leaned onto his cane. "Now, in fact. So, leave."
"With someone named Buffy?" Wilson blocked the door, hands at his waist, his own sneaky grin coming out to play. House read the expression in an instant and knew this wasn't going as he'd planned. "Alright, why don't I give you a ride then. I'd love to meet a 'Buffy.'"
House stopped the frown from creasing his face. "Didn't you say you had your own date to go on?"
"It's later. I've got plenty of time," Wilson assured, not giving in. If the sparkle in his eye was anything to go by, he knew he'd won the game. "Just confess, House. It was a fake Valentine."
House tapped him on the shoulder with the curve of his cane and walked past. Never admit defeat. "Know the way to The Whedon Hotel and Suites, chauffeur? I've got a lady to see."
"I have a date tonight."
The more she said it, the easier the little white lie was to believe. She was filing it under "white" because it was at least half true. Buffy fully intended on prettying-up, heading out, and dining by candlelight… So what if the girls assumed the word "date" implied there would be someone else joining her. Also, officially, she did have a Valentine. Sure, her Valentine was a nutty guy she'd met at a 24-hour drug store on a 2am candy run, but Valentines were Valentines, even if you weren't planning on seeing them ever again.
It helped that the younger slayers staying with her at the hotel were currently on her Hit List. After bad mouthing her to a post-break-up Kennedy and implying their leader's holiday numbness was part of her "bitchy boss" nature, Buffy had lost her will to confide in them. Or make their lives easier. Pretending her Valentine's Day was booked wasn't difficult, especially when she knew they were stuck doing city patrol to insure their little Harpies-of-New-Jersey issue was good and over.
Some days it paid to be the queen slayer.
Buffy had spent most of the day sleeping off her injuries, swallowing pain meds, and meditating on summoning her inner Super Slayer. It had paid off. With a little make-up, most of the bruising became unnoticeable. Sure, her head was still throbbing when she moved too quickly and her ribs had been in better shape before, but after the fight she'd had last night, she was lucky to be walking straight.
She slipped into a slinky red dress with short butterfly sleeves to cover the cut at her shoulder, and stood back from the mirror to admire her work. Add a stunning smile, and she figured she might not come back from her "date" alone, after all.
A little pep in her step, she waved goodbye to the jr. slayers mapping out their patrol, ignoring the deep, frustrated frowns on their pimply faces.
Buffy was enjoying her temporary boost in confidence, even if, in the back of her mind, she knew that normal nights out usually turned bad for slayers. For her. She'd almost lost that happy vibe when the elevator landed on the lobby floor.
A small crowd of couples had already begun to gather at the entrance to the hotel's pricey restaurant, blocking the building's front doorway. Yet, she still spotted him, almost automatically, as if she'd had her "charming blue eyes" radar turned on. Buffy only barely stopped her jaw from dropping.
"Crazy cane guy?" she muttered, knowing he couldn't hear her. Ok, rational explanation: very popular hotel with a very popular restaurant. He's probably got a "real" date tonight. Other rational explanation fitting into the Buffy-rule-of-sucking: he's secretly an evil something who's been tailing her.
"Buffy!" He waved, shooting her a smart-ass grin. His eyes slid over and back again, motioning to the guy walking in behind him, dark haired and looking as confused as she felt.
Buffy cocked a brow, wanting to turn around and hit the elevator again, but held her place. Something in his gaze was asking for help. Yeah, that was definitely a look she recognized. Even if it wasn't exactly shouting, "I'm in danger of being eaten!"
Buffy crossed the distance, her high heels clicking on the marble design beneath, and tried to not look completely taken aback. "Hey," she said, and paused, "…you."
Had he given her a name? Probably not. Though, 2am and concussion makes for non-caring Buffy.
Doctor Cane-Man leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle touch and slipping something into her palm. Buffy recognized it with only a glance. Her hotel card. Good work - make it easy for the Big Bads, leave your address behind. Well done.
And random confused guy was blushing. "She's real?"
Of course, he'd been talking too low for normal people to hear, so Buffy pretended not to notice. Still, it was a strange response. Which totally fit the situation.
"How's my Valentine?" Buffy asked.
House's grin widened, as if that were even possible. "Better now," he said. "Ready for our date." Then, pretending as if he'd forgotten the other man, he turned back around. "Oh, Wilson, you're still here? Thanks for the ride, but if you don't mind, Buffy and I would like to spend the rest of the night alone." Confused-guy-Wilson opened and closed his mouth, but was cut off, "Don't worry, Dad, she'll get me home before curfew."
Buffy bit back a chuckle at the sheepish expression on Wilson's face and watched the man clumsily back out of the hotel. As soon as he disappeared, her attention went back to her Valentine. She donned the hotel card he'd returned.
"This isn't creepy at all," she noted. "I don't remember dropping this at the store."
"Happened when you destroyed the card display on your way out." He shrugged, putting weight on the cane. "Brain injuries make you kooky like that."
"What's your excuse, then?" She shook her head, smiling. "Oh, and did I just get used in some sinister plot to make your buddy believe you have a life?"
"Hey, you went along with it, concussion girl."
Buffy paused, eyes narrowed as she examined him. Only, he was doing the same, and apparently his quips were faster than hers. "You don't look like crap," he said. And he seemed surprised.
"Super healing powers," Buffy replied.
"That explains it."
"You know, if we're going on a pretend date, I should really get your name."
"House." He stepped closer, leaning in further than Buffy usually allowed. She felt a tingle run down her back when those suspicious blue eyes stayed on hers. "You should look like crap," he said. "Not, you know, smokin' hot. It's unfair to the rest of the injured people out there."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Super healing powers," she repeated, "like I said. Of course, they're secret super healing powers, so if you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."
"I find it's best to start with the death threats." House straightened, the curiosity still remaining in his gaze barely covered by amusement. "But the super hero identity explains the horrible name, at least." Before she could reply, he'd hooked her arm in his and turned her toward the line of couples. "I hope you know, I don't go Dutch. You're paying. And any services I perform afterward cost extra."
Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, but she didn't turn, already knowing that she was being watched. The two pairs of eyes were at the elevator, their owners trying to hide behind the doors as they snapped a shot with their camera phones. And Buffy didn't have it in her to point out the slayers, or stop them… Sure, the photo would probably be on the internet in half an hour, the Scooby gang scandalized at being left out of the loop, but at least homebase would know that Buffy still took time to appreciate the holidays. And that she had a love life.
Well, a pretend love life.
"It's cool," she chirped, "the hotel owner owes me a favor. Me and mine, we eat free here."
House's arm tightened around hers, and he turned, lips parted, brows raised in mock delight. He let his eyes stray down, taking in an unapologetic eyeful of her cleavage. Buffy didn't bother to reprimand him, only allowing herself the chance to watch the glee surface on his face.
"Great view, free food, and I got to make Wilson feel like an ass? I should really date more often."
Buffy turned from him, a small smirk at her lips. "We really should."
Title: "Be My Valentine"
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/House M.D.
Rating: PG13, T
Summary: While doing some last minute Valentine's Day shopping, a peeved and slightly concussed Buffy meets an aggravating cane-wielding stranger.
Wordcount: ~1600
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to House or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Author's Notes: Post S7 Buffy and an earlier season of House…(obviously, not s3, though).
Be My Valentine
So, she was a thoughtless, selfish bitch, was she? Buffy Summers would show them. She'd show them all. She'd… damn it, she'd send them Valentine cards. Each and every one of them, even if it was the last thing she ever did. Which, considering her current shape, wouldn't be entirely unlikely.
Buffy limped over to the holiday aisle, holding the plastic basket beside her. A worker in a blue vest gave her a wide-eyed glance, but Buffy only glared at the woman until she took off in the opposite direction. Really, lady, really? You work in a 24-hour drug store and you don't expect to see blood-covered crazies out at 2am?Buffy stopped herself from letting out a growl-mostly because she knew the sound would probably hurt her bruised chest-and slipped in front of a stand of plushy monkeys holding giant hearts.
Fifteen bucks? For that? No way. Ok, maybe one for Dawnie. . . Buffy slipped one of the stuffed animals into the basket, and moved along, coming to a stop in front of a giant stand of boxed cards. Sure, they were intended to be given out by school children, but that didn't stop them from being viable options. Now to pick a style, and after a three-hour-long fight with a band of harpies who liked to go for the head, choosing wasn't getting any easier.
Buffy frowned, putting way too much concentration into the decision. Damn Valentine's cards. Such teases, each and every one of them, promising friendship and asking for dates and being all fluffy and cuddly and cute and…. Urg! Buffy took a breath, trying to recall when she'd become so cynical.
The shift in attitude wasn't due to Willow repeatedly degrading Valentine's Day for the marketing ploy it was. Nope, that wasn't it. Also, though it probably should have been a result of her numerous epic-fails in the relationship department, no men were to blame for her current state.
Actually, Buffy could pinpoint the exact moment, she'd started hating on the holiday. It was about twenty-eight minutes ago. Said harpies were dust in the wind-well, more like goop on cement floor-and Buffy was left smiling, a little pun at her lips when she realized she was still in one piece and the two younger slayers behind her were perfectly safe. Then, one of the other girls had gotten a phone call from Scotland, asking for a check-up.
Lucky Buffy, it was Kennedy on the line. And she was in a lovely post-break-up mood. Note the sarcasm.
Sure, it was expected that the teens would say something about Buffy's lack of a date on the grand disaster that was V-day. Buffy could roll with that. To them, she was "old". Her dating life, or lack thereof, was some foreign concept. Buffy recognized that. What was not expected was the jab made about Buffy's lack of caring.
Excuse me? Not caring about the holidays? Or the girls? All because she hadn't exactly been very Santa-like this past Christmas? Did they even realize how many slayers existed? How many contacts, associates, friends, THE Slayer had?
Obviously not. Because the second jr. slayer had laughed along, thinking Buffy was on clean-up-Harpy-goop duty.
"Buffy? Give out Valentines? In what alternate dimension?"
Buffy realized that one little comment wasn't enough to get worked up about. But it got all mix-y with the guilt trip Xander had put her through over not sending Christmas cards to her commanders, and Buffy had lost it, muttering to herself as she stomped out of the warehouse and a few miles away, in search of an open store.
Because, damn it, Buffy was not uncaring or cold or non-give-y.
She reached out, snatching a stack of goofy Japanese cartoon inspired cards. Now, only about a thousand more to go… Buffy figured she could label them, put them in a box and then ship them off to each base… Sure, they'd be late, but-
"No matter how many you send, he's still not going to be your Valentine."
Buffy froze. Because, apparently, she'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed a man-a perfectly human looking man-sneak up beside her.
His cane clicked against the tile impatiently. Buffy's brow wrinkled as she took a full second to study him with an expression that clearly read "W.T.F." Kinda older, at least physically. Mentally? Buffy wasn't so sure, judging from the print-tee and brightly colored skater sneakers and the totally inappropriate comment. Ok, strange guy. Ignore him, he'll go away..
He raised a brow, his bright blue eyes surprisingly clear for the late…early? hour. "Or she?" he amended, wiggling his eye brows. He took a step back, taking her in. Buffy would have slapped him if she'd been in a better state of mind. "Wow, you look like crap."
"Do I know you?" Buffy asked, confused. And, hey! "I don't look like…" Ok, maybe. "You should see the other girl," she finished, and turned back to her cards.
And he didn't move, his head cocked in curiosity. "Fractured ribs, shiner, and that red stuff goes on the inside, you know." He frowned, not entirely kidding. "The other girl still alive?"
Buffy laughed. She couldn't help it. "That's for me to know."
His expression, sparkling eyes and a chewed down grin, was one Buffy recognized. She got it all the time, in fact. Strange Cane Guy was interested. Not like, "I want to take your clothes off with my teeth" interested but "you're hiding something" interested. Great. Just what she needed.
Buffy went back to ignoring him and grabbed another handful of boxed Valentines, not bothering to look at the theme. At random, she selected another row. The basket was officially not big enough.
"I've never actually had a concussed patient develop the sudden need to buy cheap cards."
Buffy nearly dropped the boxes under her arm. She turned, jaw set. "I am not cheap!" she snapped.
He blinked, surprised. Cane Guy shook it off, smirking back. "But still concussed."
Buffy couldn't argue that part. She'd taken a few flights and sudden drops over the course of the battle, and, yes, thank you, observant stranger,her brain did feel like it was about to explode out of her eyeballs.
"And, you still look like fecal matter."
"Thank you, Dr. Obvious," Buffy snapped, wincing at the wave of nausea. She bit it down, glared at the man beside her.
"You know, it's been a really crappy night, and just when my night seemed to be getting better, I found out that everyone I know-ok, maybe not all of them, but several-thinks I'm a heartless bitch just because I usually forget holidays. Could that be because I actually have important stuff to do? Oh, no, it must be because I'm a totally self-important Scrooge who cares nothing for the people she works to protect on a daily basis! Yes, exactly, that's the answer to the Buffy riddle!" Buffy sucked in a breath, tossing down the cards in her hands. The basket quickly followed, a manic smile painted across her lips. "And my solution? Buy cards most third-graders would call lame, because, apparently, I'm hollow inside and can't come up with a better idea!"
Cane Guy was silent a moment. He reached out, snatching a small box off the shelf. It was filled with candied hearts. Giving it a little rattle, he held it out to her.
His over-sincerity was anything but sincere: "Won't you be my Valentine?"
Buffy gently prodded at her forehead with two fingers, ignoring his comical little pout when she didn't reply right away. Mind explosion commencing in five…four…three… "What?"
He huffed, as if put out by having to explain himself. "Come on," he chided, "you know this. It's in the guidebook that falls out of all vaginas after puberty-if a woman wants to prove herself sufficiently busy on a holiday, she need only fall back on the age-old, 'I was too busy hanging out with my boyfriend' excuse."
Buffy stopped herself from commenting on his horrible impression of a female voice. "You want to go on a date?"
"No, I just want to skip to the cuddling." He rolled his eyes and shoved the box of hearts into her hand. "There. You've officially be Valentined. And I'll have you know I'm a quite the catch, a dashingly distinguished doctor with a heart of gold. Or some other heavy metal."
He gestured for her to leave. "Shoo."
Buffy held up the candy hearts. "Are you going to buy me these?"
"Buy them?" He looked taken aback. "I asked you out-the least you can do is spend the mula."
And Buffy finally realized why Cane Guy was actually on the aisle. He was picking up a box of chocolates. For some reason, Buffy had a feeling those weren't going to a significant other. He was on a late-night candy raid. Definitely not as old as she'd first thought.
Knowing it was probably the concussion, she picked a box up off the closest shelf, not cards, but a giant lip-shaped box of chocolates, and pulled a pen from her purse. Buffy scribbled down a message in the to-and-from note on the cardboard. She tossed the chocolate at him, and he caught it against his chest.
"I go Dutch. Happy Valentine's Day," Buffy said, a small smile at her lips, and stepped away. She didn't need to see his face to know that smirk would be back in place when he saw what the candy read.
To: My Cane-bearing Love Doctor
From: Buffy, the Concussed
Thanks for being my Valentine, blue eyes.
Title: Sweet Comic Valentine
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/House M.D.
Rating: PG13, T
Summary: House claims to have a Valentine's Day date. So does Buffy. Funny how life works out. Sequel follow-up to "Be My Valentine".
Wordcount: ~1900
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to House or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
"Sweet Comic Valentine"
"You're planning something."
The accusation came from the door to his office, but House didn't have to look up to know that the narrowed eyes burning through him belonged to Dr. James Wilson, fan of the Big C. House decided it was time to give up on balancing his cane on his forehead, and snatched it before it could clatter to the ground. Then, with an innocent bat of his eyes, he turned to look at his friend.
"What ever do you mean?"
Wilson crossed his arms over the chest of what appeared to be a rather nice suit. "I have no clue why you wanted your team distracted the entire day, attempting to solve the riddle of 'Buffy, the concussed,' but your little ruse didn't work on me."
"Ruse?" House scoffed. "Really? That implies premeditation. I simply threw a package away. They're the ones who chose to dig through my garbage."
Wilson bit down a smile. "You sat it on top of the trash can, the message facing up, and preceded to eat a giant pair of chocolate lips while going over symptoms."
House raised a brow. And?"Did Cameron report me to the sharing police?"
Wilson threw up his hands. "You know what, House. I don't care what this is about. Because if this was some half-assed attempt to ruin Valentine's, it failed." The doctor was somewhat proud of this victory, and continued, "Your patient is better, your team has already left for the day, and I have a date-all is right in the world, and no one cares if you paid one of the nurses to fill out a fake name on a Valentine."
"A nurse? My standards aren't that low." House was wagging a finger at Wilson. "Oh, I know what this is about…"
"What what is about?"
House tapped his cane on the floor, standing. "You're mad I didn't tell you about my girlfriend. It's ok, Wilson. Dr. Phil says jealousy is healthy, and we all know he's an expert."
Wilson frowned. "I'm not…I don't… Damn it, House, we both know you don't have a girlfriend. At least not one who doesn't get paid to spend time with you."
"You wound me, sir." House slapped his hand against his chest, dramatically, but his brow quirked up when his fingers proceeded to pull a plastic card from his overshirt's breast pocket. His smile was wicked when he tapped the front of the card. Wilson leaned forward, trying to get a look at it. From the distance, it appeared to be a hotel keycard. House slipped it into his wallet. "Actually, I have a date tonight, too."
House slid into his jacket, and leaned onto his cane. "Now, in fact. So, leave."
"With someone named Buffy?" Wilson blocked the door, hands at his waist, his own sneaky grin coming out to play. House read the expression in an instant and knew this wasn't going as he'd planned. "Alright, why don't I give you a ride then. I'd love to meet a 'Buffy.'"
House stopped the frown from creasing his face. "Didn't you say you had your own date to go on?"
"It's later. I've got plenty of time," Wilson assured, not giving in. If the sparkle in his eye was anything to go by, he knew he'd won the game. "Just confess, House. It was a fake Valentine."
House tapped him on the shoulder with the curve of his cane and walked past. Never admit defeat. "Know the way to The Whedon Hotel and Suites, chauffeur? I've got a lady to see."
"I have a date tonight."
The more she said it, the easier the little white lie was to believe. She was filing it under "white" because it was at least half true. Buffy fully intended on prettying-up, heading out, and dining by candlelight… So what if the girls assumed the word "date" implied there would be someone else joining her. Also, officially, she did have a Valentine. Sure, her Valentine was a nutty guy she'd met at a 24-hour drug store on a 2am candy run, but Valentines were Valentines, even if you weren't planning on seeing them ever again.
It helped that the younger slayers staying with her at the hotel were currently on her Hit List. After bad mouthing her to a post-break-up Kennedy and implying their leader's holiday numbness was part of her "bitchy boss" nature, Buffy had lost her will to confide in them. Or make their lives easier. Pretending her Valentine's Day was booked wasn't difficult, especially when she knew they were stuck doing city patrol to insure their little Harpies-of-New-Jersey issue was good and over.
Some days it paid to be the queen slayer.
Buffy had spent most of the day sleeping off her injuries, swallowing pain meds, and meditating on summoning her inner Super Slayer. It had paid off. With a little make-up, most of the bruising became unnoticeable. Sure, her head was still throbbing when she moved too quickly and her ribs had been in better shape before, but after the fight she'd had last night, she was lucky to be walking straight.
She slipped into a slinky red dress with short butterfly sleeves to cover the cut at her shoulder, and stood back from the mirror to admire her work. Add a stunning smile, and she figured she might not come back from her "date" alone, after all.
A little pep in her step, she waved goodbye to the jr. slayers mapping out their patrol, ignoring the deep, frustrated frowns on their pimply faces.
Buffy was enjoying her temporary boost in confidence, even if, in the back of her mind, she knew that normal nights out usually turned bad for slayers. For her. She'd almost lost that happy vibe when the elevator landed on the lobby floor.
A small crowd of couples had already begun to gather at the entrance to the hotel's pricey restaurant, blocking the building's front doorway. Yet, she still spotted him, almost automatically, as if she'd had her "charming blue eyes" radar turned on. Buffy only barely stopped her jaw from dropping.
"Crazy cane guy?" she muttered, knowing he couldn't hear her. Ok, rational explanation: very popular hotel with a very popular restaurant. He's probably got a "real" date tonight. Other rational explanation fitting into the Buffy-rule-of-sucking: he's secretly an evil something who's been tailing her.
"Buffy!" He waved, shooting her a smart-ass grin. His eyes slid over and back again, motioning to the guy walking in behind him, dark haired and looking as confused as she felt.
Buffy cocked a brow, wanting to turn around and hit the elevator again, but held her place. Something in his gaze was asking for help. Yeah, that was definitely a look she recognized. Even if it wasn't exactly shouting, "I'm in danger of being eaten!"
Buffy crossed the distance, her high heels clicking on the marble design beneath, and tried to not look completely taken aback. "Hey," she said, and paused, "…you."
Had he given her a name? Probably not. Though, 2am and concussion makes for non-caring Buffy.
Doctor Cane-Man leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle touch and slipping something into her palm. Buffy recognized it with only a glance. Her hotel card. Good work - make it easy for the Big Bads, leave your address behind. Well done.
And random confused guy was blushing. "She's real?"
Of course, he'd been talking too low for normal people to hear, so Buffy pretended not to notice. Still, it was a strange response. Which totally fit the situation.
"How's my Valentine?" Buffy asked.
House's grin widened, as if that were even possible. "Better now," he said. "Ready for our date." Then, pretending as if he'd forgotten the other man, he turned back around. "Oh, Wilson, you're still here? Thanks for the ride, but if you don't mind, Buffy and I would like to spend the rest of the night alone." Confused-guy-Wilson opened and closed his mouth, but was cut off, "Don't worry, Dad, she'll get me home before curfew."
Buffy bit back a chuckle at the sheepish expression on Wilson's face and watched the man clumsily back out of the hotel. As soon as he disappeared, her attention went back to her Valentine. She donned the hotel card he'd returned.
"This isn't creepy at all," she noted. "I don't remember dropping this at the store."
"Happened when you destroyed the card display on your way out." He shrugged, putting weight on the cane. "Brain injuries make you kooky like that."
"What's your excuse, then?" She shook her head, smiling. "Oh, and did I just get used in some sinister plot to make your buddy believe you have a life?"
"Hey, you went along with it, concussion girl."
Buffy paused, eyes narrowed as she examined him. Only, he was doing the same, and apparently his quips were faster than hers. "You don't look like crap," he said. And he seemed surprised.
"Super healing powers," Buffy replied.
"That explains it."
"You know, if we're going on a pretend date, I should really get your name."
"House." He stepped closer, leaning in further than Buffy usually allowed. She felt a tingle run down her back when those suspicious blue eyes stayed on hers. "You should look like crap," he said. "Not, you know, smokin' hot. It's unfair to the rest of the injured people out there."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Super healing powers," she repeated, "like I said. Of course, they're secret super healing powers, so if you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."
"I find it's best to start with the death threats." House straightened, the curiosity still remaining in his gaze barely covered by amusement. "But the super hero identity explains the horrible name, at least." Before she could reply, he'd hooked her arm in his and turned her toward the line of couples. "I hope you know, I don't go Dutch. You're paying. And any services I perform afterward cost extra."
Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, but she didn't turn, already knowing that she was being watched. The two pairs of eyes were at the elevator, their owners trying to hide behind the doors as they snapped a shot with their camera phones. And Buffy didn't have it in her to point out the slayers, or stop them… Sure, the photo would probably be on the internet in half an hour, the Scooby gang scandalized at being left out of the loop, but at least homebase would know that Buffy still took time to appreciate the holidays. And that she had a love life.
Well, a pretend love life.
"It's cool," she chirped, "the hotel owner owes me a favor. Me and mine, we eat free here."
House's arm tightened around hers, and he turned, lips parted, brows raised in mock delight. He let his eyes stray down, taking in an unapologetic eyeful of her cleavage. Buffy didn't bother to reprimand him, only allowing herself the chance to watch the glee surface on his face.
"Great view, free food, and I got to make Wilson feel like an ass? I should really date more often."
Buffy turned from him, a small smirk at her lips. "We really should."