"Good God, Spike. Is all you do smoke and couch and watch TV?"
Xander walked past the open patio door, carrying his man-purse, followed by Buffy, carrying a stack of file folders and a few large notebooks.
Spike quickly set his cigarette down on the metal bistro table that Anya had strewn with several now-dead plants, and came inside to lighten her load. He gave her a kiss as he scooped up the papers from her hand, before depositing them on the kitchen counter.
"That's a lotta work for you to be bringin' home, Love. Which, by the way, why aren't you there? At home."
"Because I wanted to see you and Xander was driving by the office on his way here, so... Also, that's not even half of what I should have brought home with me. God I'll be so happy when this degree is finished. And tired. I'll be tired and I'm going to sleep for a month. Then I'll find a job. After a month of sleepy-times."
"Pet, you're doin' it," Spike said as he smiled down at her.
"Rambling? I know, it's cause I'm so sleepy. I -"
"You're finishing this." He said, squeezing her hand. Was proud of his girl, but she didn't like him sayin' it, so he'd just stop there.
"Beer?" Xander offered on his way to the fridge. Living with Harris had been less than ideal, but not nearly the torture he'd been expecting. Really was just a numpty after all.
"Nah. Going in early."
"Why?" Buffy whined. He even thought he saw her stomp her adorable foot.
"Know why."
The duplex Harris was leasing with his girl was only partially occupied. The owner was working Xander a deal - fix up the units and he'd cut him a good discount to buy the place. Anya and Xander's unit was done up nice, but next door was a nuclear test site. In return for room and board, Spike was volunteering labor and what money he could to get the place livable in the hopes he and Buffy could rent it in a few months when she was finished with her field study hours.
If he wasn't working on the unit, he was working extra hours at the coffee house.
"How long do you have?" She'd turned the whine down a couple notches, at least.
Spike glanced at the microwave clock glowing green in the dim kitchen.
"I have some time."
He shot Harris a look and Xander in turn tossed him the keys to the second unit.
"Well," Xander cleared his throat loudly as he sat down on the couch and reached for the remote. "I'll just catch up on The Walking Dead, then."
"Sure you don't need me to hold your hand, Pup?"
"No, Anya will be home soon," Xander answered before he could stop himself. Spike shook his head in exasperation.
"Don't erase those, or I'll make you into a very realistic prop for the show. Haven't seen 'em yet."
"Yessir, Cap'n Peroxide, Sir."
"Finally a bit a respect outta him."
Buffy giggled as he took her by the hand and walked her through the shared backyard, collecting his still burning cigarette on his way to their backdoor. He took a last long drag on the poison stick before throwing it down and rubbing it out with his boot heel.
His girl shook her head but refrained from sayin' anythin' as he pulled her into the dark and half demolished mess of the second unit.
"First chance I get," he announced, pushing Buffy up against the nearest solid wall. "I'm gonna bloody well soundproof." Sounds of gunfire, screaming, and explosions echoed through the thinly sheet rocked walls from next door.
"For them or for us?"
Spike raised his brows and let his hands wander to the small of Buffy's back, pulling the hem of her blouse free of her skirt. "Afraid they'll hear you scream?" he whispered in her ear, so close that his breath sent shivers down her back - he could feel them echo in his hands as they rested there, still clutching at the soft woven fabric of her shirt. " I wasn't planning on hurting you... much."
"You haven't even come close to hurting me."
He took that as the challenge it was meant to be, and slammed her back into the wall - not hard, just... enough. "Afraid to give me the chance?" he growled, low and almost feral. It had been goin' on six weeks now, no action.
She turned the tables then and grabbed the collar of his tee shirt, using his surprise and her forward momentum to push him back. He stumbled over a stack of uncut drywall and landed on top of it, Buffy on top of him.
He managed to recover from his momentary surprise - not like it wasn't in the girl to be dominate, but he hadn't seen that one coming - and found his voice again. "Afraid that I'll -"
She cut him off with an almost painful kiss. Almost reminded him of their first kiss - not the proper first, the one just before that when he had sworn she'd cut his lip open in her enthusiasm. It only took him seconds to realize that all talk was finished for now. No, now it was about the hard body beneath you, against you, and around you that you should be focusing on.
He tangled his fingers in her long blonde hair, and pulled her closer, if that was even possible. The breaths they took to stave off oxygen deprivation felt like they took up only microseconds. Then he was pushing back against her, rolling them a little roughly from the top of the sheet rock to the tile floor below. If the stack of material wasn't already cracked he didn't want it to be. Best not to tempt fate.
Still drowning in the taste of her mouth, Spike slipped his hand around the waistband of her skirt, searching for something. He found the small machine and let his hand follow the tubing under the bright orange fabric and onto her hip. She was wearing it low today. He twisted and released the connection just as he realized something very important.
No knickers.
Somehow the pump made it onto an out of the way patch of tile, and both bodies managed to make it upright.
Counter.
He pushed her back and lifted her from her thighs to balance against the butcher-block top. They stopped their frantic consumption of each other and everything was quite for just a few moments.
Still locked in her eyes, Spike pushed her skirt up her hips, only vaguely registering the fact she was undoing his trousers at the same time. Then he was lifting her and she was guiding him inside.
The noises she made - so hopelessly in need - so close, just by feeling him fill her. He could hear that sound a hundred more times tonight. A thousand, if she'd let him. He looked up at her, silently asking, was this what she wanted? It wasn't all just for him - he couldn't let it be. And she brought her mouth down to his again, hard but gentler this time; less about the need now and more about the lust.
He turned them, now with him leaning back against the counter, and buried his face in her throat.
"Floor," she gasped.
He had to make a choice - kill 'is knees, break their fall landing on his back, or sacrifice the stack of sheet rock. Turning round again - he was feeling a mite dizzy now, and lightheaded - he laid them down on the somewhat raised platform the materials provided.
With him on his back, Buffy pushed herself up, still straddling him. She pressed his hands to her hips and encouraged him to guide her movements. He could feel her port connection like a button between his fore and middle fingers. She thought it made her less than she could be, but it reminded him of how much he loved her.
Her pulled her down hard, hearing that sacred noise from her again, then let her shift back up a bit before repeating the motion - and, once again, that sound. She was close. So was he. They went on like that for a remarkable few moments before he finally held her firmly against him, shifting his hips to increase his depth ever so slightly.
But it was bloody, mind-blowing-ly fucking perfect.
She gripped him so tightly as she came that it actually hurt. But the pain flipped that final switch for him and he joined her, pulling her forehead down to rest on his, spending himself inside her until he was dizzy from the force of it.
He drove to Moth's with the windows down, even so he wasn't smokin'- needed to remember stop by the shop on the way home and pick up another packet. Felt he needed the fresh air, havin' a hard time breathin' since the workout he'd got in prior to leaving for the coffeehouse.
Place looked quiet for a Friday evening. Then again, Halloween was next weekend. People had parties, takin' the kiddies to fall festivals as an alternative to traditional trick or treatin'. He'd take the stroke of luck though and hope for an easy night.
Waved hello to the new kid manning the coffee bar since Harmony'd finally flaked for good and proper. Lorne was his name. Sung along with the playlists a bit obsessively, but then, Spike himself was guilty of air guitar and drums from time to time. Only belted out the words when no one was lookin' though. Gotta have some sense of self preservation.
Glanced down the bar in the opposite direction to see who was slingin' drinks tonight, and groaned at what his eyes took in.
"Hello to you too, Spikey."
"Evening, Ponce," he shot back, employing his best smile of superiority.
"How's Buffy?" They'd run into each other a couple of times since last Christmas, but mainly they tried to stick to the same distance that had worked for them over the past years.
"I should say feeling very satisfied as now, but thanks ever so for your concern."
"I was going to say 'don't be childish', but it's you, so..."
"Look, you started it!"
"I sent Wes home with the flu, so it's me helping back here or you're on your own," Angel raised his voice now, letting his annoyance crack his ever brood-y facade. "I should be taking my kid to get hopped up candy or something, which is what you're supposed to do when you're five years old."
"Go then."
"Fine. Lorne," he shouted, tossing the bar mop into the bin. "I'm outta here. Call me if you need anything. Wouldn't wanna disturb Bleach Boy here."
"Sure thing, Boss," Lorne nodded as Angel swept up his coat and stormed out in a cloud of melodrama. "No worries, Spike-alicious. We got this." Guy could truly roll with the punches.
The night did not remain as dead as anticipated, and by the time he made it back to Harris's, all he wanted to do was smoke a cigarette and pass out.
That plan - not a winner apparently. As he coughed his way through the front door, for his breathing hadn't gotten any easier as the night drug on, he could see a form already huddled into his makeshift bed on the sofa. A blond head popped up to greet him.
"Wha's this, then? Kickin' me outta another home?" He immediately felt like a class A dick for sayin' it. It hadn't been Buffy to kick him outta her dad's place. Been Hank Summers himself.
"What the hell is this? Buffy!" "Hi, Dad," she mumbled weakly. Spike's head spun from his girlfriend to her father... and landlord. And, he guessed, by proxy his landlord. Without hearing much of the next few words to pass either's lips, he cast about the pile of blanket and clothes for Buffy's tee shirt. Handing it to her he began mentally steeling himself for the inevitable fallout. And they'd just been about to bloody get somewhere. He squeezed his girl's hand beneath the blanket as she began trying to awkwardly maneuver her back to her father and pull her shirt over her head. "No, no!" Hank began in an obviously hostile tone. "The But he did turn his back and Spike seized the chance that was offered, dressing in double time. Buffy, however, only managed her shirt and knickers before Hank rounded on them again. "I know you're an adult, Buffy, but "At the apartment wi-" "Alone?" "With Will. They're slumber-partying it up!" She was gettin' her guts back, now. "Why are you here? Summer in Berlin just not doin' it for ya?" "I flew in for an impromptu meeting at home office, and you'd better watch your tone, young lady." " "Your friend needs to go." Spike took a step back from Buffy and toward his duffle at the foot of the couch. He knew when to pick his battles, and this was one he didn't fancy winning. But Buffy's hand shot out to stop him grabbing the bag. "He drove me." It was a weak excuse and she wasn't really thinking it through, what it might accomplish. Not much, Spike knew. "Thank him for the ride, then." "He can leave this house without you. You and I need to get a few things straight. In "S'okay, Pet," he soothed, taking hold of her wrist gently. She twisted easily out of his grasp and swatted his hand away. He back stepped out of her reach quickly, holding palms up in a gesture of retreat. "I'll say this for him, he knows how to back down from a lost battle." " " And of course - if things weren't already buggered enough - that's when Andrew decided to say a nice hello to Hank, weaving his way between legs and wailing. The three humans stared at the cat in a moment of shared disbelief.
And that was how Spike came to be living with the Harris-git. That's how Buffy lost the perks of being the property owner's daughter and forfeited the apartment. That's how Buffy learned a little something extra about his past after Hank had a background check run on 'im. And that was why Dawn suddenly lamented sharing a bathroom with her big sis again.
"No fair," she pouted. He moved forward to sit next to her on the sofa.
"I know it. Didn't mean it."
"I wanted to spend the night with you," she answered his earlier question, scooting closer. "I miss you."
"Shudder, gasp," he teased, brushing a lock of gold back behind the shell of her ear. "And if you're spending the night with me… who's supervisin' the Bit?"
"She's with Janice."
"Those two deviants…"
"I know, I know, and consequences be damned." She laid her hand against his cheek with a smile.
"Last time we stayed the night in someone else's livin' room," he stopped to cough, just to clear his throat really, but ended up shaking a bit violently instead. "Didn't turn out too warm or fuzzy," he finished.
"Are you alright? You feel hot and you sound like death."
"That so? S'pose death never did look this good."
"Did you ever get your flu shot?" she began with the stern looks and concerned voice.
"Mmm. See… 'bout that…"
"Spike!"
"Well, they always make you sick, those flu jabs, don't they?" He leaned back as she tossed a pillow at his stomach.
"Dummy," she stood and walked the short distance into the kitchen. "That genius plan sure is paying off now, huh?"
"Heh," he chuckled weakly.
"Lie down. I'll make you some tea."
"In a minute." Spike stood and began digging into his jeans pocket for his packet of smokes. He felt a sudden sharp pain to the back of his head and a small hand snatching the packet out of his own before he had a chance to even contemplate a counterattack.
"Lie down."
He found himself smiling as she turned away to do the domestic thing and make him a cuppa. Only hoped she couldn't burn it. You couldn't burn tea, could you?
Oh, he could get used to this.