Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise. Any recognizable characters/locations from the series belong to Joss Whedon and Warner Bros. Author's Note: I am so sorry it has been so long between updates, but if anyone's still reading this story... a big thank you! I've been battling massive writer's block. To make it up to you, I'm giving you a longer chapter with a sprinkling of sexiness.
It was late by the time Buffy finally came home. Spike was sitting on the couch, waiting up for her. She dropped her purse and jacket onto the armchair and sat down on the other side of the couch. A long awkward silence stretched between them. As always, Buffy was the first to break it.
"One of us should say something," she said. "And soon."
He nodded and cleared his throat. He knew he should be the first to apologize but found himself stuck in an Elton John song, unable to get the words out. Lately, Spike's talent as a wordsmith had become fleeting. Everything he wrote seemed awful and he was fairing no better verbally. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and gave her a desperate look, willing her to take the lead.
She rolled her eyes and brought her feet up beneath her. "Fine. I'll go first. When I was at my mom's going over the wedding budget, I realized things would be easier for us if I got a second job to help cover the expenses."
He nodded and let her continue, uninterrupted.
"I get that I should probably have told you but you've been so busy with your manuscript. And I didn't want to stress you out about it when I could just take the initiative and fix the problem myself," she babbled.
He turned in his seat, his arm stretching across the back of the couch. "I'm sorry that I've been unavailable," he said, feeling guilty.
"No!" She scrambled closer and put her hand on his knee. "Don't be! What you're working on is important and I totally understand you needing to focus."
He forced a smile, the guilt growing. "Still wish you had told me."
She looked down, abashed. "You're right. I should have. I'm sorry."
He took the hand that rested on his knee and laced their fingers together. She shrugged and gave him a small smile.
"Your turn."
He swallowed and squeezed her fingers gently. "I'm sorry for acting like a berk. I was just a little turned around when I saw you there in that bloody uniform."
"Apology accepted," Buffy said. "But you should know by now that if you ever want to be in my bad books, telling me what to do is a good way to make that happen."
Spike smirked. "Understood."
She cuddled closer, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders.
"I'm also sorry about the comment I made about your dad."
She went rigid. "It's fine."
"I know that—"
"I said it's fine," she said, shortly. "I don't really want to talk about him now."
He frowned but nodded all the same. He had expected his apology would lead to a lengthy conversation but it appeared that she wasn't in the mood for it.
"Right then."
She relaxed against him once more and smiled. "Was the uniform really that bad?"
He pressed his lips against her forehead, hiding a grin. "You were wearing a cow on your head and that shade of orange would be unflattering on anyone.
She snorted. "Fair enough. I'm still a little surprised you didn't pick up on the whole secret job thing."
He tilted his head. "Well, like you said, I've been a bit preoccupied."
"I know, but the smell... It stayed with me after many bathings and you never once noticed?"
He faltered for a moment, not wanting to admit to the fact that he'd been purposefully avoiding her. He quickly recovered, giving her a sultry look. "Maybe I need to get a bit closer."
Buffy bit her bottom lip and tilted her head back, letting him nuzzle into her neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair, which was soft despite how much gel he tended to use. He sprinkled kisses along her neck before pulling away to kiss her properly. He loved the taste of her, never able to get enough. One of her hands left his hair and ran slowly down to his chest. She gave him a firm shove, forcing him back into the cushions. Buffy straddled him and his hands automatically found their way to her hips, coaxing her to grind down into his lap. Her breath hitched feeling how hard he was for her. Her hands travelled further down until they reached his belt buckle.
Spike grunted when she finally got his pants open and reached inside. He revelled in the feel of her hand on him. She knew just how he liked to be touched. Soon, growing impatient, he took her by the wrist and forced her hand away. He tugged insistently at the hem of her blouse until she got the hint and took it off. Slowly and seductively, she climbed off his lap and lay back on the couch. She shucked her shoes off and undid her pants, letting him pull them down her legs and throw them over his shoulder. He climbed on top of her and nuzzled into her neck once more.
"Do I stink?" Buffy asked breathlessly.
He chuckled and answered her with a deep kiss, no longer in a joking mood. He yanked her knickers off, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and soon he was moving inside her in deep, rhythmic thrusts.
She threw her head back, letting out a blissful moan. Spike watched her in rapt fascination. As frightening as marriage seemed, the idea of having her this way for the rest of his life was not an unappealing one.
After exhausting themselves in the living room, they finally made it to the bedroom. Spike got into bed and waited for Buffy to return from brushing her teeth. When she came back, she crawled under the covers and curled into his side. He kissed the top her head and his fingers played with the ends of her hair.
"I love this hair," he whispered. "It's so shiny and soft. Love the way it bounces when you're—"
She giggled. "Nothing you're about to say is going to lead to sleep and that's all I'm up for right now, I'm afraid."
He murmured his assent and closed his eyes. "I'm quite knackered, myself."
"That was pretty good, huh?" She yawned.
He smirked and peeked open an eye to look at her. "I'd say so. I didn't think you'd be able to bend that way without stretching first."
She gave him a cheeky look. "I'm just full of surprises."
"That you are, Luv." He closed his eyes again and soon found himself starting to nod off.
"We're okay, right?" Buffy asked quietly.
"...Mmhmm."
"We've made up good and proper, right?"
"...Mmhmm."
"So it's okay with you if I have a second job?"
"...Mmhmm."
"Okay, good. I'm going to talk Anya into letting me work in the shop."
"Mmhmm...wait. What?" Spike's blue eyes popped open. He lifted his head to look down at her curiously.
"Well, money's still an issue and I got fired from the Doublemeat Palace."
"They fired you?"
She gave him a funny look. "Of course they did! I had a very loud, very public argument with my fiancé out of the drive-thru window."
He settled back against his pillow and looked up at the ceiling with a satisfied smile.
"Stop it. You're not allowed be all smug about this."
"You were too good for that place, anyway."
She rested her head back on his chest and sighed. "Honestly, I am kinda glad to be outta there. I think at one point I actually heard myself say the words: 'Doublemeat is double-sweet'."
The following morning, Spike sat drinking his tea at the kitchen table. Buffy stood at the stove, trying her best to make breakfast and still managing to burn it.
"I'd like jam on my pancakes, please," he said, looking up from the morning paper.
"It's supposed to be a eggs," she said, irritated. "How does my mom make this look so easy?"
He smothered a smile and turned back to the business section where he was reading an article about the retirement of the CEO of the Wolfram & Hart. He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he barely heard what Buffy was saying to him.
"So, I meant to talk to you about the guest list but we got kind of side-tracked. Then upside-down-tracked."
"What guest list?"
"Our guest list."
"Guests to what?" He took a drink of his tea.
"Umm...our wedding?"
He looked up at her startled. He opened his mouth to answer and, having forgotten to swallow, dribbled tea down the front of his t-shirt. He jumped out of his seat and looked down at the mess he'd made.
"Not really awake yet, are you?" Buffy teased, trying to get the overcooked eggs to unstick from the pan.
He put down his mug and his paper, and lifted the shirt over his head. He draped it over the back of his chair and sat back down again. "Not yet, no."
"Well, anyway," she continued transferring the burnt pancakes onto a plate. "Mom and I worked on the guest list yesterday. I called Giles and got most of your family down. Was there anyone else you wanted to invite? Doyle, maybe? I mean I know it's been a while but you two were besties growing up and..."
Spike tuned her out. It was really happening. The invitations would be sent out and then there was no turning back—not that he necessarily wanted to but it was nice to have the option. Xander had said to take everything one step at a time, but it felt Buffy was running towards the altar and dragging him behind her. A part of him wanted to take this opportunity to be upfront and talk to her, tell her about this anxiety he had about ruining their relationship by getting married. A part of him wanted to ask for a longer engagement, so he could have some time to adjust.
But a much bigger part of him loved her too much to say anything. If he was honest and told her he wasn't ready to get married yet, wouldn't he be just like all the other men in her life? A disappointment? He couldn't do that to her, risk letting her down in such a big way. He loved her far too much.
And for that reason, Spike excused himself under the pretense of finding Doyle's forwarding address. He rushed down the hall and into his office/her gym to have his panic attack in private. When he'd finally managed to get his breathing under control, he went to his desk and got out his address book. He flipped to the page where Doyle's information was.
Alan Frances Doyle, he read to himself. Next to Doyle, another name was written—Harriet—and a line was drawn through it. Harriet was the woman Doyle used to call the love of his life, but these days she was just his nagging ex-wife. Spike flopped down into his chair with a great, big sigh.
A few weeks later, Buffy was working at Anya's bookstore. Retail wasn't necessarily the most riveting of professions but it paid well enough. Buffy was sweeping the floor like she did every night while Anya fondled the money from the register.
"We should go shopping this weekend," Anya said, happily. "I have so much money to buy pretty things with."
"Sounds like fun but I can't. I won't be here, remember?"
"Oh yes, you'll be on an unpaid leave of absence."
"I'll be in Los Angeles scouting out a wedding venue. Dawn will be here bright and early Friday morning." She knelt down to sweep the dirt into the dust pan. "Please get along or at least try not to kill each other." She fixed Anya with a stern look.
"...Fine but I am allowing this under protest," Anya said. She and Dawn got along okay but if they were exposed to each other for too long a time, arguments ensued. "There are child labour laws to consider. I expect some kind compensation for how nice I'm being. Perhaps free labour when you get back."
Buffy emptied the contents of the dust pan into the trash.
"Or I could not say anything to Xander about you ruining his Babylon Five commemorative plates," she said innocently, putting away the broom.
"How was I supposed to know that they weren't dishwasher safe?"
Buffy smirked. "Anyway, Dawnie's eighteen and responsible. Now, if you don't need me, I'm gonna take off."
Anya nodded and Buffy grabbed her purse and jacket from the hook on the back door. "I still have so much to do before this weekend," she groaned, shoving her jacket on. "But first I need to get the invitations printed."
Anya looked up at her with a curious look on her face. "Why not get Spike to do it?"
Buffy shook her head. Spike had locked himself in his office/her gym all day yesterday to try and work through his writer's block. She couldn't bother him with that kind of stuff right now. Besides she had her mom to step in and help out. Of course, her selfish side longed to get him more actively involved. After all, their wedding was kind of a big deal and she wanted to share the excitement. But she reminded herself to be mature, that the manuscript was too important. If his anthology of poems did well, the publisher might be willing to publish more of Spike's work. That would mean Spike may be able to start writing full time like he had always wanted.
And Buffy wanted that dream to come true for him more than she wanted him to make a fuss over silly invitations.
"He's busy and I don't want to distract him."
"Why won't you call Lorne? He was a lot of help."
Buffy shrugged. "I already told you why. I don't really know the guy and I'd feel funny asking a stranger to help me plan my wedding."
"Don't be ridiculous. He's a professional," Anya said.
"We couldn't afford it anyway."
"I'll contact him and tell him to give you a call. His fees are very reasonable considering that his services will let you keep your sanity."
Buffy chewed on the inside of her cheek. It might be nice to talk to a professional, someone who knew what they were doing. Her mom was a lot of help but she had only ever planned one wedding.
"Just talk to him."
"Okay. Tell him to give me a call," Buffy said, heading for the exit.
When the phone rang, Spike was the one to answer.
"Hello?"
"Hi there, this is Lorne Deathwok calling for Buffy."
"She's not here but I can give her a message."
"Alrighty then. I was just calling because a client of mine, Anya Harris asked me to—ain't she a pistol? I was her wedding planner, once upon two years ago... Is this the groom-to-be?"
Spike nearly swallowed his own tongue trying to answer. "Uhh...wrong number, mate!" He punched the end call button and shoved the phone under the couch cushions.
This was my first time writing a sex scene so I apologize if it's no good. Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome.