Cinemar
"So where are we going tonight?" Buffy knew she should stop asking but, some part of her still hoped that he would stop being so cryptic and just tell her, because she was starting to feel a tiny bit nervous. They hadn't stopped for coffee, or checked out mini golf, or even once glanced in the direction of the mall. Well, he hadn't. She'd practically willed them in the direction of the mall, but it just wasn't happening.
"Friday night righ'?" She rolled her eyes, knowing where this was heading, but couldn't resist answering in the affirmative. "Well, my choice where we go, innit. You'll jus' hav' to wait'n'see." If looks could stake. Only, they couldn't. Buffy would know, she'd tried really, really hard last year, but all she'd gotten in return was a fistful of leather and a mouthful of Spike. Turns out, in Britain, when a 'chit' stares at a guy, it's perfectly in the norm to stare back, and when staring back, it's also perfectly acceptable to have large, blue, beautiful eyes that turns knots into stomachs and leaves a vague fluttery somethings in her heart and when that has been accomplished it is expected of the staree to swagger up to the starer and practically devour her mouth as she's trying to stake you, with her eyes. Britain was a messed up country. What kind of place gave birth to something as…disgusting…as Spike? With his…skin, and…hair…and face…and….sexy sexiness. Damn him. And damn Friday night Spike choice of date night. Damn it all.
So caught up in her internal thoughts, Buffy didn't even notice when they'd crossed the final block to their destination and looked up at a large building dominated by the marquee sign that jutted out, front and center. Kind of like Spike.
"The movies?" Buffy queried quizzically, just seconds ahead of Spike's ta-dah "The Cinema-r!" Having caught the tail end of his proclamation, Buffy giggled and had to ask to have that repeated. Spike huffed, thinking that there was absolutely nothing wrong with his British-ness, it was Buffy's Californian-ness that was the real problem. Now, he wasn't Watcher with his mannerisms and gentility but he had been raised in the correct manner even if he was mostly brash and swaggering now (like a pirate?) it was hard to not sound so British. He was bloody British sod it all. "It's bloody cinemar alrigh' are we goin' inside or are we bloody well goin' to exchange soddin' language quirks?!" Buffy smirked. Oh he was annoyed now, she could tell, angry eyes, pouty lips, he was so damn adorable and handsome and sexy and just all-around fuckable. But before she let it go she was going to have to fuck with him just a 'tad' because he was just too cute.
"Cinemar righ'?" Good god he hoped to hell and back he'd never have to hear such an abuse of his mother accent ever again. "Will you bloody cut tha' out? Cripes, it's like you're chewin' it up and spittin' it out!" Her eyes hooded and she opened her mouth wide and she proclaimed, "Bloody hell look at me William the poncey prat bloody this and sod that and cinemar cinemar cinemar loo and brolly and wanker this and blimey that and knickers and bollocks and shagging soddin' gits."
Spike was dumbfound and speechless and so in love with this woman he felt his heart could burst so he did what felt so natural and wrapped his arm around his Buffy and snogged her senseless and she kissed him back and they stood there wrapped in their loving embrace and as they slowly emerged (Buffy had to breathe) they smiled and rubbed noses contentedly and from behind them, a voice spoke out, the ticketmaster hopefully asked, "So two tickets then?"
Buffy smiled and agreed, turning to Spike, "Let's watch a film. At the cinemar." She leaned up and kissed him and they walked hand in hand to the ticket booth and all was well.