Fake Blonde
Summary: Buffy is a talented journalist who ends up working at a dead-ended job at a trashy Maxim-esque men's magazine, the only job she could get - mainly due to the fact that she's young, inexpericed...and a Californian bottle blonde. Despite her frustration at her job, and her pig-headed, womanizing, British boss, Buffy trudges through, hoping to gain the experience needed to win a coveted job at Newsweek. But what happens when love gets in the way?
Rating: PG-13 for now...but it will definitely go up to R later (esp. since its an R rating at SpuffyArchives.com)
Pairing(s): Spuffy (duh), W/O, and X/A
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.
A/N:
* A moment of silence for our dearly fallen champion *
Anyway, I decided to finally upload this onto FF.net...the NC-17 version will be on SA.com (when it comes) just so ya'll know. And for readers of Twisted...don't worry, I won't forget about it (even though it probably seems like I have.a few times.)
~
Xander Harris popped open a champagne bottle.
"To my three best friends." He lifted his glass and smiled wryly, "All of whom have survived the terrors and toils that is college. I offer a toast, praying, for their sake, tat all of their professors may have been wrong about the so-called "real world" and that it actually involves eating a lotta cake and picking daisies."
"And me getting a job at Newsweek!" Buffy Summers, Xander's gorgeous, blonde friend with intelligence that shown through her hazel eyes, interjected.
"And that the Buffster may get a job at Newsweek, but with flexible hours, as to not cut into her cake eating and daisy picking time." The friends laughed and clinked the top, and then bottom, of each of their champagne glasses.
"Cake is good." Willow Rosenberg, Buffy and Xander's mutual friend, commented. However, Willow's boyfriend Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, practically choked on the vile taste the champagne produced inside his mouth.
"Yet, oddly, champagne is bad." He deadpanned.
"Hey, I'm on a budget here. Can't go wasting it all of $80 bottles of * sham-pahn-yay. *" Xander replied, a la Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live.
"Great." Buffy said sarcastically, "So now that three of us," She motioned to herself, Willow, and Oz, "Have to deal with drinking crappy champagne for the rest of our natural born lives."
"Whereas we'll be able to drink the best champagne whenever we want in our *artificially* born lives." Willow said with a giggled, before scrunching her nose, "That sounded really funny in my head." Oz smiled and squeezed her knee. Xander snorted and took a sip of his champagne, grimaced, and set it back down.
"That's disgusting."
"My point exactly." Oz said.
"Why did I even get this stuff? It's Mum's for chrissake." Xander said with a shake of his head. Buffy suddenly sat up with a strange smile beginning to tug at the ends of her lips.
"You jerk." She said, a huge grin breaking out over her tanned face.
"What?" Xander asked, playing dumb.
"Oh, come off it. You know and I know that the only, the * only * reason you bought Mum's is because we watched Meet the Parents the other night!" Xander pouted out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.
"Prove it." He replied childishly and then blew a raspberry in Buffy's direction. She burst into hysterics, his display amusing her to no end. Realizing what she was laughing at, she quickly tried to sober up and mock- punched Xander in the arm.
"Xand! C'mon! Don't do that! I'll start acting like you and I can't have that if I want to be one of the nation's most influential journalists by the time I'm 30."
"A journalist who turned down * five * perfectly good offers from all around the country because she hasn't heard about a Newsweek internship, yet." Willow said, glaring pointedly at the journalist in question.
"Please, Wills. I have it in the bag. I had the highest GPA in the entire Communications department, I'm a people person, I'm opinionated, and have you seen my recommendations? The words "amazing talent" and "enourmous potential" were used more than once if I recall." Buffy looked down into her glass,smirking, "Plus...well, I was gonna tell you at the "right moment," but I heard this afternoon. They want to interview me in New York." Willow's jaw dropped, Xander practically squealed with excitement, and even Oz seemed to convey an emotion.
"Omigosh, Buffy!!" Willow screamed, tossing her arms around her friend's neck and squeezing her into a tight hug, "Do you have any idea how big this is?!?"
"Kinda!" Buffy replied, returned the hug. Willow let go and the pair clapped their hands, jumping up and down in excitement. Xander was in the background, doing the Snoopy dance, singing something about it being Buffy's birthday and Oz nodded his head, patting Buffy on the back.
"Congrats, Buff." He said, with a sincere smile.
"The interviews in about 5 days." Buffy said.
"Wow, they're not giving you much time to prepare." Willow replied, concerned.
"They're probably just seeing how we work under pressure, which believe me, is totally no biggie for me. I ordered my plane tickets this afternoon, so I'm all set!" Xander hugged Buffy and then pulled away, smiling at her like a proud brother on Speed. Buffy smiled back and flopped onto Xander's couch, listening as Willow commented on how it was finally feeling like they were in the real world, Xander saying that he had been in the real world for four years now, Oz deadpanning that Xander * never * lived in the real world, until all of the talking and voices and clapping and music rolled together into one soft, slow, continuous hum. Buffy leaned back, sighing happily, and closed her eyes in contentment, allowing the love around her to engulf her consciousness completely.
~
Meanwhile, at the same time the four friends were celebrating, William "Spike" Reynolds, one of three top editors at the snazzy men's magazine S&M, started to panic.
"What the bleedin' hell do you mean you're leaving?!?!?"
"I can't take it anymore, Reynolds! This job sucks! I'm an intelligent woman working at a magazine named after a kinky sex ritual. It's just wrong." Cordelia Chase, his beautiful employee, replied. Or, as it now looked, ex-employee.
"First off, it's not technically named after the sex ritual, it's named after Sanders and Martisan, you know that." Cordelia simply snorted, "And second off, Cordy, I'm begging you not to leave. You're the best writer we've got. Plus, I need two weeks notice." Spike countered, thinking that he really got her there.
"I gave Anya my two weeks notice two weeks ago. I just thought it would be courteous of me to say goodbye."
"You gave *Anya* notice? But *I'm* your bloody boss!" Spike roared. Cordelia stood up and and slipped her jacket on.
"Goodbye, Spike."
"This doesn't have anything to do with that "incident" a few weeks ago, does it?"
The only response he got, as she left the room, was the waving of her middle finger high in the air.
"Guess so."
~
Nearly a week later, in New York City, Kelsey Malia, a Newsweek correspondent, picked up the next resume in a tall stack. She nearly choked when she read the info.
*Buffy* Summers. From *Sunnydale* California.
Kelsey sighed and threw the paper back onto her desk, rubbing her temples. Buffy Summers? An image of a tall, leggy blonde flashed through her mind. A blonde with a dull gaze set permanently in bright blue eyes. A blonde with a Prada suit and Daddy's plastic to boot.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Buffy took a deep breath and stepped into the large office and smiled.
"Hello, Ms. Malia?" Buffy asked extending her hand, already feeling nervous by the cold once-over the brunette was giving her. However, the woman leaned forward and shook her hand, but quickly snapped back after just barely
"Yes. I am Ms. Malia. Am I correct in assuming that you're Buffy Summers?" Buffy swallowed her anger at the venomous sarcasm placed on her name.
"Yes. It's very nice to meet you. It's been a dream of mine ever since I was a little girl to work at Newsweek."
Kelsey raised an eyebrow at that.
"You don't have the job yet, Blondie."
"Oh! I know! I just meant, that if the opprotunity ever presented itself..." Buffy backpedaled. Kelsey just 'hmm'ed at that and clucked.
"Sit down. I have a feeling this won't take very long." Buffy did so.
"Where did you attend college?"
"UC Sunnydale."
"Get good grades?"
"The best."
"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"
"Hopefully making some sort of difference in the world." Buffy mentally kicked herself. But then again, the woman had been spit-firing the questions at an unreasonable speed.
Upon hearing Buffy's last answer, Kelsey picked up a random piece of paper and feigned surprise.
"Oh, God."
"Oh, God? Oh, God what?" Buffy asked.
"I'm sorry...I must have missed this memo." Kelsey looked up at Buffy with a fake smile, "I'm afraid all our internship positions have been filled. Better luck next time."
That was the moment that Buffy felt the world fall out from beneath her.
Summary: Buffy is a talented journalist who ends up working at a dead-ended job at a trashy Maxim-esque men's magazine, the only job she could get - mainly due to the fact that she's young, inexpericed...and a Californian bottle blonde. Despite her frustration at her job, and her pig-headed, womanizing, British boss, Buffy trudges through, hoping to gain the experience needed to win a coveted job at Newsweek. But what happens when love gets in the way?
Rating: PG-13 for now...but it will definitely go up to R later (esp. since its an R rating at SpuffyArchives.com)
Pairing(s): Spuffy (duh), W/O, and X/A
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.
A/N:
* A moment of silence for our dearly fallen champion *
Anyway, I decided to finally upload this onto FF.net...the NC-17 version will be on SA.com (when it comes) just so ya'll know. And for readers of Twisted...don't worry, I won't forget about it (even though it probably seems like I have.a few times.)
~
Xander Harris popped open a champagne bottle.
"To my three best friends." He lifted his glass and smiled wryly, "All of whom have survived the terrors and toils that is college. I offer a toast, praying, for their sake, tat all of their professors may have been wrong about the so-called "real world" and that it actually involves eating a lotta cake and picking daisies."
"And me getting a job at Newsweek!" Buffy Summers, Xander's gorgeous, blonde friend with intelligence that shown through her hazel eyes, interjected.
"And that the Buffster may get a job at Newsweek, but with flexible hours, as to not cut into her cake eating and daisy picking time." The friends laughed and clinked the top, and then bottom, of each of their champagne glasses.
"Cake is good." Willow Rosenberg, Buffy and Xander's mutual friend, commented. However, Willow's boyfriend Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, practically choked on the vile taste the champagne produced inside his mouth.
"Yet, oddly, champagne is bad." He deadpanned.
"Hey, I'm on a budget here. Can't go wasting it all of $80 bottles of * sham-pahn-yay. *" Xander replied, a la Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live.
"Great." Buffy said sarcastically, "So now that three of us," She motioned to herself, Willow, and Oz, "Have to deal with drinking crappy champagne for the rest of our natural born lives."
"Whereas we'll be able to drink the best champagne whenever we want in our *artificially* born lives." Willow said with a giggled, before scrunching her nose, "That sounded really funny in my head." Oz smiled and squeezed her knee. Xander snorted and took a sip of his champagne, grimaced, and set it back down.
"That's disgusting."
"My point exactly." Oz said.
"Why did I even get this stuff? It's Mum's for chrissake." Xander said with a shake of his head. Buffy suddenly sat up with a strange smile beginning to tug at the ends of her lips.
"You jerk." She said, a huge grin breaking out over her tanned face.
"What?" Xander asked, playing dumb.
"Oh, come off it. You know and I know that the only, the * only * reason you bought Mum's is because we watched Meet the Parents the other night!" Xander pouted out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.
"Prove it." He replied childishly and then blew a raspberry in Buffy's direction. She burst into hysterics, his display amusing her to no end. Realizing what she was laughing at, she quickly tried to sober up and mock- punched Xander in the arm.
"Xand! C'mon! Don't do that! I'll start acting like you and I can't have that if I want to be one of the nation's most influential journalists by the time I'm 30."
"A journalist who turned down * five * perfectly good offers from all around the country because she hasn't heard about a Newsweek internship, yet." Willow said, glaring pointedly at the journalist in question.
"Please, Wills. I have it in the bag. I had the highest GPA in the entire Communications department, I'm a people person, I'm opinionated, and have you seen my recommendations? The words "amazing talent" and "enourmous potential" were used more than once if I recall." Buffy looked down into her glass,smirking, "Plus...well, I was gonna tell you at the "right moment," but I heard this afternoon. They want to interview me in New York." Willow's jaw dropped, Xander practically squealed with excitement, and even Oz seemed to convey an emotion.
"Omigosh, Buffy!!" Willow screamed, tossing her arms around her friend's neck and squeezing her into a tight hug, "Do you have any idea how big this is?!?"
"Kinda!" Buffy replied, returned the hug. Willow let go and the pair clapped their hands, jumping up and down in excitement. Xander was in the background, doing the Snoopy dance, singing something about it being Buffy's birthday and Oz nodded his head, patting Buffy on the back.
"Congrats, Buff." He said, with a sincere smile.
"The interviews in about 5 days." Buffy said.
"Wow, they're not giving you much time to prepare." Willow replied, concerned.
"They're probably just seeing how we work under pressure, which believe me, is totally no biggie for me. I ordered my plane tickets this afternoon, so I'm all set!" Xander hugged Buffy and then pulled away, smiling at her like a proud brother on Speed. Buffy smiled back and flopped onto Xander's couch, listening as Willow commented on how it was finally feeling like they were in the real world, Xander saying that he had been in the real world for four years now, Oz deadpanning that Xander * never * lived in the real world, until all of the talking and voices and clapping and music rolled together into one soft, slow, continuous hum. Buffy leaned back, sighing happily, and closed her eyes in contentment, allowing the love around her to engulf her consciousness completely.
~
Meanwhile, at the same time the four friends were celebrating, William "Spike" Reynolds, one of three top editors at the snazzy men's magazine S&M, started to panic.
"What the bleedin' hell do you mean you're leaving?!?!?"
"I can't take it anymore, Reynolds! This job sucks! I'm an intelligent woman working at a magazine named after a kinky sex ritual. It's just wrong." Cordelia Chase, his beautiful employee, replied. Or, as it now looked, ex-employee.
"First off, it's not technically named after the sex ritual, it's named after Sanders and Martisan, you know that." Cordelia simply snorted, "And second off, Cordy, I'm begging you not to leave. You're the best writer we've got. Plus, I need two weeks notice." Spike countered, thinking that he really got her there.
"I gave Anya my two weeks notice two weeks ago. I just thought it would be courteous of me to say goodbye."
"You gave *Anya* notice? But *I'm* your bloody boss!" Spike roared. Cordelia stood up and and slipped her jacket on.
"Goodbye, Spike."
"This doesn't have anything to do with that "incident" a few weeks ago, does it?"
The only response he got, as she left the room, was the waving of her middle finger high in the air.
"Guess so."
~
Nearly a week later, in New York City, Kelsey Malia, a Newsweek correspondent, picked up the next resume in a tall stack. She nearly choked when she read the info.
*Buffy* Summers. From *Sunnydale* California.
Kelsey sighed and threw the paper back onto her desk, rubbing her temples. Buffy Summers? An image of a tall, leggy blonde flashed through her mind. A blonde with a dull gaze set permanently in bright blue eyes. A blonde with a Prada suit and Daddy's plastic to boot.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Buffy took a deep breath and stepped into the large office and smiled.
"Hello, Ms. Malia?" Buffy asked extending her hand, already feeling nervous by the cold once-over the brunette was giving her. However, the woman leaned forward and shook her hand, but quickly snapped back after just barely
"Yes. I am Ms. Malia. Am I correct in assuming that you're Buffy Summers?" Buffy swallowed her anger at the venomous sarcasm placed on her name.
"Yes. It's very nice to meet you. It's been a dream of mine ever since I was a little girl to work at Newsweek."
Kelsey raised an eyebrow at that.
"You don't have the job yet, Blondie."
"Oh! I know! I just meant, that if the opprotunity ever presented itself..." Buffy backpedaled. Kelsey just 'hmm'ed at that and clucked.
"Sit down. I have a feeling this won't take very long." Buffy did so.
"Where did you attend college?"
"UC Sunnydale."
"Get good grades?"
"The best."
"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"
"Hopefully making some sort of difference in the world." Buffy mentally kicked herself. But then again, the woman had been spit-firing the questions at an unreasonable speed.
Upon hearing Buffy's last answer, Kelsey picked up a random piece of paper and feigned surprise.
"Oh, God."
"Oh, God? Oh, God what?" Buffy asked.
"I'm sorry...I must have missed this memo." Kelsey looked up at Buffy with a fake smile, "I'm afraid all our internship positions have been filled. Better luck next time."
That was the moment that Buffy felt the world fall out from beneath her.