Authors Notes: The end of this chapter is what every Spuffyer has been
waiting for. That's all I'm saying this time. =)
I've been trying to get down To the heart of the matter But the flesh is so weak And the ashes all scatter But I think it's about Forgivness, forgivness Even if, even if You don't love me anymore
It was a couple of days later. Spike had been spending alot of time at the Summers home. At this moment, it's night, and everyone's asleep...
Buffy tossed uncomfortably in her bed. Why was it easier to sleep with him beside her? She finally tossed the covers down and crept to the stairs. She felt like talking to him now. She snorted quietly. She wanted to make out with him. But THAT was against the rules. Damning the rules in her head, she came down the stairs, grabbing a glass of water as her 'excuse' if she -whoops- woke him, she paused at the doorway to the living room. And "Awwwwwed." Then quite felt the compulsion to drool, then smile proudly and say, "Mine." Spike lay curled up on the couch, shirtless and tousled.
No strange dreams this time. Spike was totally relaxed, something that was rare for him since the return of his soul. Maybe it was the smell of the couch. The scent of the Scoobies, of Buffy, Dawn, and a lingering scent of Joyce. It smelled like home.
She sighed as she realized the curling part was due to the no cover part. She laid the glass of water on the table and went to the laundry cupboard.
She took out a warm blanket she remembered her mother tucking around her. She walked to the living room and watched him a moment. Sighing again, she draped it over him, her eyes deftly avoiding where he had unbuttoned his jeans to allow more movement. She tucked it around him, covering his feet especially well, and had to work very hard to not laugh when his feet wiggled in the covers, freeing themselves.
Spike sighed, and gripped the cover instinctivly, snuggling down against the pillow. The blanket too had the scent of home, of family. Of love. He let out another sigh and smiled in his sleep.
Buffy swallowed and smiled, wanting to touch his hair. She gave him one last look and went back to the staircase to go to bed.
==============================================
Buffy looked blearily around her room. When had she fallen asleep?? And what was that smell?? Getting out of bed, unmindful of her sushi jamma pants and white tank, she trooped downstairs, following her nose. Willow was gone, Dawn was gone... Spike was asleep and- She stopped short in the kitchen.
"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame, you give love a bad name...", Spike sang, standing in front of the stove, Dawn's portable cd player strapped to his jeans. "I play my part, and you play your game, you give love a bad name.." He hummed along with the instrumental part of the song.
Her mouth went dry, and she felt the urge to laugh at the same time. There Spike stood at the stove, cooking bacon, as unbuttoned, shirtless and curly haired as the night before. Singing along to Bon Jovi on Dawns Discman. She walked up to him, quietly, and ran her hands lightly down his ribs.
"Yah!", Spike yelped, spinning around and throwing a piece of bacon square into the sink. "Slayer," he said, quickly removing the headphones. "Uh, I didn't see you there."
A smile quirked her lips before she bit it back. "No?"
"No. I was.. uh.. making breakfast."
She began to casually bop around the kitchen humming "I played my part-" she stopped. Sniffed. "It smells great."
If Spike could have blushed, he would have. "Oh, so, you heard that, huh?"
She took a rocker stance, belted out, "Darlin' YOU give love... A BAD NAME!"
Spike fought a grin. He was losing. "So, um, I'll take that as a yes."
She gave him a smile, and hit him with her hips to move him away from the stove, she leaned forward to sniff appreciatively.
He did his best to look annoyed. Untill the bacon popped grease onto his back. "OW! Bloody stupid...!", he growled, slapping at his back.
She ran her hand over it softly. "You ok?" She looked concerned. "Bacon grease won't make you dusty?"
He chuckled. "Not unless you've had a preist over here to bless the bacon it won't." He hissed quietly. "Bloody hurts, though."
She frowned softly, and kissed his back gently. She turned him to face the stove and went the the sink, wetted a papertowel with cool water and ran it over his back.
"Cold," he muttered. But that was only to distract himself from the gentle feeling of her lips on his back. "Thanks, luv." He turned around, and removed the bacon pan from the heat. "I still have to do the eggs."
She looked around, feeling kinda wierd. "Can I.. uh... burn toast for you?"
He laughed. "I don't think you can do that, luv. I set the toaster on 'light'."
She gave it a good glare. "It hates me." "Want me to.. " She mimed pushing the button down.
"Go ahead, luv. I'll make sure to save you from the horror of burning toast." He cracked two eggs into the pan with the bacon grease. "They're really good this way, with the bacon stuff on them."
She gave his back a good glare. Shoved toast into the evil toater and rammed the button malisciously. "They're horrible for you. You get fat, and clogged arteries."
"Not me, luv. It's not easy for a vamp to gain weight. It's easy to lose it, not to gain. And clogged arteries wouldn't bother me much, since I don't have a pulse." He flipped the eggs in the pan. "Do you like yours fried or scrambled?"
She arched a brow pointedly and placed her pointer and middle finger against her jugular. She said meekly, "Dippy?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Beg your pardon? Dippy?"
"Um... yeah. Ya know, dippy. You can put the toast in the yolk, cuz.. it's.. dippy. But all the white has to be done. Because snotty white parts of the egg are soooo gross."
"Oh," he said with a knowing smile. "I'd better pull them up now, then. Personally..", he continued, removing the eggs from the pan. ".. I like them runny, then I eat the whites off, and put the whole yolk in my mouth. Then the warm, goopy stuff flows down my throat. Yum." He licked his lips.
Buffy about threw up on his bare feet. "That's so sick."
He noticed her look. "What? I'm a vampire, what do you want?" He put two pieces of bacon on each plate, removed the only slightly burned toast from the toaster and put a piece on each plate. Then set the plates on opposite sides of the table.
She pointed at the toast. "SEE?? It HATES me!"
He chuckled. "I'm starting to see what you mean." He poured two glasses of orange juice and handed one to her, then took his place at the table.
She sat opposite him, bowed her head a moment, eyes closed, then lifted it, smiled and picked up her fork.
"What do you think?", he asked. He actually looked vulnerable, as if his cooking was as important to him as his poetry.
She dipped her taost into her eggs, pushed around the yolk and found absolutely no snot in her eggs. She smiled widely. "The best most perfect eggs I've ever eaten."
He grinned widely and stuffed a yolk into his mouth. "Thanks, luv," he said around the mouthful.
She glanced away while he did... whatever he did with his nasty eggs and nibbled on her bacon.
He swallowed, then gave her a smile, and dipped his toast in his other egg. Took a bite.
She arched a brow at him. "You like?"
He swallowed. "Good." He shot her a look. "Now didn't we say that we were going to rethink some of our rules?"
She tried to cover her small cough. "Yeah.. absolutely."
"Ok, want me to go first?"
"Sure."
He grinned. "Against my better judgement, I am removing the no tickling rule. Since we've both shown that we're not listening to it anyway." He shot her a pointed look, refering to her way of getting his attention earlier that morning.
She smiled innocently. "Ok. Anymore?"
"Your turn."
She put her fork down. "I want to kiss you."
He cocked his head. "We didn't have a no kissing rule, luv."
She took a deep breath. "I want to kiss you. Not softly, not sweetly. I want to run my hands over your body, feel yours on mine, and brushing my lips across yours once in a while is *not* good for my sleep cycle.l" She looked at him, nervous, jumpy, and worried.
Spike choked on his bacon. "I'm *cough* fine with *cough* that," he said, whacking himself on the chest.
She sighed frustratedly. "You couldn't have said that sooner or anything??"
"Excuse me for choking, Slayer," he said, simi-sarcasticly.
She shoved her nose in the air. "Whatever. Like you need air."
He "humphed". "Nice to know you care."
"I can't *believe* you wanted to kiss me too! The whole time, or just the other night?"
"Every bloody time I'm around you! You just have that effect. The other night, however, that wasn't the only effect that you were having." He got up, put his plate in the sink, and walked into the living room. He sat on the couch.
She sighed slightly angrily, left her plate and stalked after him. "I'm being serious. You felt you couldn't tell me this before? And do -not- walk away from me! I especially don't need that from you!"
He placed his elbows on his knees, rested his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, luv. But after, what happened, I didn't want to push you. I thought it was just me."
She sat on a chair adjacent to the couch. "I redecorated the bathroom. If you pushed me, I'd have hurt you, Spike. It's that easy. I don't think, not even fear a little bit, that you'll d-do that- that again. Ever. I really don't."
He glanced up, tears making his blue eyes glisten. "You.. you don't?" He sniffed. "Why not?"
She considered carefully. "Your eyes. Ever since you came back... They glow. They've changed. And your eyes have never lied."
He ran a hand through his hair, in a vain attempt to smooth out the curls. "Oh. I wish I could see what you see, Slayer."
She frowned slightly. "I wish you could, too. You're... you're a good man, Spike. Screwed up, yes. So have I. So has everyone. But when I look at you now, I can't see... the... the badness in your eyes. I just.. I see you, not some ex-Big Bad, trying to be bad ass still. Just Spike."
He gave a half-hearted grin. "I don't know if I should thank you, or growl at you sometimes, luv. For now, I'll settle for thanking you. I've never met anyone with a heart like yours. You're amazing, you know that?"
She tucked her hands behind her head, and leaned back in her chair, eyes closed. "Yup. I'm the incredible resurect-ee Buffy doll, complete with psychoses."
That got a minor chuckle out of Spike. He layed down, stretching out across the couch. "We all have our little psychoses, luv. Even me."
She cracked open an eye at him. "Yeah.. I saw the whips and chains."
"That wasn't what I meant. I meant like, irrational fears, stuff like that."
"Like what? And for the record, no on anything in that trunk."
He rolled onto his side so that he could see her better. "Well, take me for instance. I have a terrible case of clustrophobia, and a minor case of arachnophobia. And, now, I'm also scared of beetles." He thought for a moment. "I don't think there's a phobia name for that one."
She glanced at him. "Share the clustrophobia. Coffins. Way with the yuck. I'm sure there's a name for the beetle thing. There's a name for people who do trees."
"Yeah, that's where mine came from too. And I don't even have to worry about there being enough air." He glanced at her. "People who what?"
"Ya know... get their groove on with a tree. Called Denderfelia."
Spike shuddered. "I just call that sick. And I should know."
She laughed. "Dang.... a tree is all it takes to gross you out."
He gave her a pointed look. "It's not the tree, luv. I like trees. It's the... other part.. ech." Another shudder.
She laughed. "Ya know what's bad? Dawn told me that."
He cocked his head. "That is bad. And how exactly did she find this out?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Ya know, I didn't ask. I just kinda sat there, all fishy-faced."
"Kind of like me right now." He growled. "Remind me to ask her later."
She shook her head. "I think some things are better left alone."
He looked at her. "You're probably right, luv. And this is definitly one of those things." He grinned at her. "Is there anything else that you've got a phobia about, Slayer?"
"Clowns."
He laughed. "Clowns? What, did you get that from Harris? How can you be scared of clowns? They're funny."
She gave him a level look. "Clowns are evil. What are they hiding behind all that makeup? And the cars???" She shuddered. "And NO ONE should be able to bend a balloon like that."
"The make-up is to make them look funny. But I'm with you on the cars. The balloon thing, though? I think you need to have that checked out. It could be evidence of somethin' else."
"Thank you, Dr. Phil."
He grinned. "Not a problem, Oprah."
She arched her brow at him. "Oprah?" She pounced on his reclining form. Ran her fingers visciously over his very bare ribs, tickling. "Take it back."
"Ahh!", he yelped. "Never!"
She bit his shoulder lightly, kept tickling. "Never, hmm?"
Spike's eyes grew big as he squirmed. "No!" Another fit of laughter. "You can't make me.."
She was calmly conquering his body with her fingers, then moved up to the undersides of his arms, one had still on his ribs, and she bit his shoulder again. "Come on... Just four little words."
He continued to squirm. How the hell did she know all his weak spots? "I'll never say it!"
She tsk-ed. "Not the four words I was looking for.. Oh, well. Just have to keep tickling you." And she did. "It's a good thing I didn't think of this six years ago. You'd be all dusty."
Spike couldn't take much more, he was beginning to crack. "Stop..", he choked out, practically begging.
She arched her brow, continuing her assault. "Four words, Spike... That's all I need to hear.. and I'll stop."
There were tears streaming down Spike's face, and his laughter was bordering on the hysterical. "I... take..."
She slowed her tickling pace. "Yes..? You take what?"
He let out a cross between a giggle and a growl. "...it.... back," he surrendered.
She sat, kneeling over him, and patted his ribs. She tossed her hair and looked at him triumphantly.
Spike lay his head back, panting. "Bloody hell." He scratched at his ribs. "Now I'm all itchy. And how exactly would you have made me dusty six years ago?" He looked at her curiously.
She grinned, patted his abs again and said, "Easy, tickle tickle tickle, helpless vamp, bam! Stake in heart. Dust-city."
He growled playfully. "That would not have been fair."
The triumph still gleamed in her eyes. "Which is what would have made it so fun."
He "humphed", and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fun for you. And I was not helpless. I could have gotten you off, if I really wanted to."
She nodded. "Yeah. I sensed that amid the helpless giggling."
He growled again. "I was not helpless, or giggling. Dawn giggles. I do not."
"Sure." She wiggled, trying to get more comfortable, forgetting for a moment that she kneeling across Spike's hips. "Cuz, ya know, that was... manly giggles."
He glared at her. "Repeat after me... Spike... does... not... giggle."
"Spike giggles like a girl."
He growled, but he couldn't really get at her, given the possitions that they were in. "I hate you."
She pouted. "Oww." She tilted her head. "Listen."
"To what?"
Her thumb started to rub over her pinky in a circle. "The world's tiniest violin playing 'My Heart Bleeds For You'."
He growled again, but it was more to hide a chuckle than to actually growl. "Cute, Slayer. Really cute."
She grinned happily, bounced cheerfully. "I know. I've been waiting forever to use that one."
This time, he did chuckle. "Whoa, Slayer. Watch where you're bouncing. You might rupture something I need."
Her eyes were genuinely confused. Then a slight pink tinged her cheeks. She scurried backwards. "Whoops?"
He grinned. "Not that I really minded. After all, what did you call me the other night? Perv-o-matic?"
She crinkled her nose. "Yeah, but that was you and-"she shuddered. "Whitewash the mind... whitewash the mind..."
He chuckled again. "Believe me, luv. The mental image is easier to forget than the actual happening." A slight shudder followed this. "But I have learned something from this morning, however."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Always wear a shirt around you."
She arched her brow. "Why?"
"Makes it harder for you to have access to the extreme ticklish spot that is my ribs."
Buffy shrugged. "Wouldn't stop me."
He thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll wear a thick sweater, and tuck it into my pants, and cinch my belt so tight that I will lose whatever semblance of circulation that I have. Would that stop you?"
She shook her head. "Nope. I'd have to tear it off ya. Get in a good tickle here and there.Besides, like your pants aren't tight enough as they are?"
"..grrr..." That was the only response. That, and Spike tucking his bare feet beneath a pillow.
She looked behind her, caught the movement. "Feet, too, hmmm?" She grinned. "Don't worry. I won't tickle them now. I want to catch you off guard."
He sighed. A mixture of relief and foreboding. "Well, you might as well know. I'm pretty much ticklish to some degree all over." He snorted at himself. "I just had to remove that stupid rule."
She crawled back up him, sitting on his legs. "New rule?" Her voice was serious, and so were her eyes.
He caught the change of mood. "Ok. What is it?"
"You don't ever, ever walk away from me, or turn away from me when we're fighting, or sharing, or.. or anything. If we've got to talk, we can do it to eachother's faces."
"Even if we're embarassed? Even if we think we're going to cry?"
"Not looking me in the eye is one thing. I can't... It makes me want to kick the hell out of you when you just.. walk away."
He nodded. "I know the feeling, luv. There was a time when you were always the one walking away."
"That's fair. I was. But I'm not now. I might back away a little bit. But I don't walk away. Not anymore."
He squared his shoulders. "If you can do it, I can do it. No walking away. Not until whatever we're talking about is settled. And you know your new rule, on account of losing the game the other night."
"Bastard. I can't believe I lost. But yeah... I've lost denial privledges. That doesn't mean you can just ask me things like life is a big game of Truth."
He held up a hand. "True. And, just so it's fair, I'll take away my denial privledges too." He grinned. "I do have one thing to ask you, though."
"All right..." She looked wary. Very wary.
Another grin. A playful one. "You know mine, but I want to be able to defend myself if you pounce me again. So, disclosure: Where are you ticklish?"
She sighed. Groaned. Grabbed his hand. "Here." She placed it on the indent of her hip. He poked experimentally. She wiggled, jerked a bit. "The other is... um... off limits."
He grinned, removed his hand. "Oh. Maybe you'll tell me sometime?"
She gave a half grin. "Probably not."
He chuckled. "Are there any other rules that we need to change? Or new ones to be made?"
"Did we.. officially change the kissing rule?"
He thought. "Actually, I'm not sure what you changed it to. Things got a little confusing after that. What is it now?"
"I.. You know what I want. What do you want?"
He reached over, ran a hand gently down her arm. "Pretty much the same."
Her stomach knotted, released. "Ok."
"How about a rule dealing with... uh..." He cocked his head and scratched at his ribs again. "Hang on. I forgot what I was going to say."
She gave a breathy laugh. "Ok." She kept inching up his legs, back to where she was earlier. Spike had noticed her movement. As a matter of fact, that was what had made him forget.
"Do we have a rule about how far we can go during a kiss?"
"Not all the way. I don't know.. Sometimes, I just... I want to be... held, and sometimes I just wanna be all over you, and... I just don't know. Do you know?"
He chuckled. "I have similar things. There are times that I really need to be held. And there are other times when I have to hold myself back." He gave her a pointed look. "Like the other night on the crypt roof."
She swallowed, knowing she had no idea what she'd have done if he hadn't let go. "Yeah, well, join the club. Self-control isn't something we've been exercising too well."
He snorted. "Tell me about it. I wonder if any other couple in history can say that they have literally brought the house down." He thought for a moment. "Granted, it was abandoned to begin with, but still..."
Her eyes clouded. "I'm not proud of that."
He held out his arms, beaconing for her to lean on him. "Me neither, luv. I was just trying to make a joke. Apparently, it wasn't a good one. Maybe I'll leave the joking to the Whelp."
She slowly lay down on him, her head beneath his chin. "I want to be proud of this... because... the house, the DoubleMeat, the Bronze... It makes me feel ashamed."
He put his arms around her, holding her gently. "To tell you the truth, I don't feel too good about them either. Must be the soul again."
She nodded. "Any more rules on your mind?"
He grinned. "How about that we stay like this forever? Or do you have something in mind?"
She shrugged. "So... kissing rules firmly in place? What about um... touchy, yummy hands rules?"
He chuckled. "Nice choice of words. How about you make this one up? I'm too relaxed."
"Ok... to the waist is fine on me. What's ok with you?"
"I'm in total agreement on that one. Less chance for temptation."
She looked into his eyes, her own slightly hooded. "How much temptation?"
"What do you think?" He shook his head. "Personally, I don't want a repeat of the roof incident."
She shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't have to be."
"Oh?"
She felt ridiculous. Apparently, Spike wasn't getting the seduction she was attempting. And little wonder. Gotta love the shushi jamma's... "No."
Oh, Spike had caught it, alright. He just wanted to make sure that Buffy really was saying what he thought she was saying. "So, if I were to kiss you, solely for experimental, rule testing, purposes, it wouldn't be too much temptation?" He leaned toward her...
She wetted her lips. "Absolutely not." Her lips parted softly.
Spike leaned in, and their lips met in a whole new kind of kiss. It was intense, yet sweet, holding the promise of more to come. Tentativly, his hands roamed around her back... Her own hands ran softly over his chest, and wonder ran throug her mind. She had actually been afraid that the heat would be gone? God, what was she thinking?? She nuzzled him softly, changing the angle of the kiss. After a moment, the pulled away at the same time. Both panting slightly.
Her eyes were wide, pupils slightly dialated. She closed her mouth, her brow knitted in confusion, and leaned forward, kissing him again. Spike had needed a moment to register what was happening, and he gladly leaned in for another kiss. She may not have said that she loved him yet, but her lips spoke volumes. She pulled back slightly, feathered kisses down his neck. They stalled momentarily at Spike's own scar, the one left from his turning. She kissed it, too, scraped her teeth over it gently, giving it a last kiss before roaming back to his lips. Spike alternately purred and moaned, then quickly met her mouth with his own. His heart felt as if it would burst with joy. This, this had to be what heaven was like. She felt the love pouring from him, his lips. It felt so it ached, in a place in her chest. His mouth was perfect. And hers fit. She gave a small moan.
They continued reaquointing themselves with eachother's mouths and torsos, finally pulling apart and resting their foreheads together. "I love you, Buffy Summers," Spike whispered in a low voice. "So much."
She was pulling in hard breathes. The ache in her heart was growing, and she didn't even feel the tears fall from her eyes to Spike's cheeks. "I - I think I..." Deep breath. "I love you, Spike." Her tears kept falling.
He almost couldn't believe what he had just heard. The compulsion to ask "what?" was almost too strong to ignore. He rubbed his hands on her back, held her close. "Shh, it's okay, luv. Please don't cry."
She couldn't stop. "I can't... I'm... Why does it still hurt?" She looked at him with tear-stained cheeks. "I'm still confused."
"Confused about what? What hurts?" Now Spike was confused.
She put a hand where Spike's heart should have been beating. "It still feels tight... like it's gonna bust." She snuffled once. "And why am I crying?"
Spike sniffed. "I don't know, but I think it's contagious." A tear ran down his cheek, mingling with hers.
She gave a half laugh and laid her cheek against his. "I thought... I thought figuring it out would... would make it clearer.. but I still have no idea where we're going."
He nuzzled her. "Neither do I. But I do know one thing."
She looked in his eyes, begging reassurance. "What?"
He hugged her gently and nuzzled her again. "Wherever we're going, we'll get there. Together."
I've been trying to get down To the heart of the matter But the flesh is so weak And the ashes all scatter But I think it's about Forgivness, forgivness Even if, even if You don't love me anymore
It was a couple of days later. Spike had been spending alot of time at the Summers home. At this moment, it's night, and everyone's asleep...
Buffy tossed uncomfortably in her bed. Why was it easier to sleep with him beside her? She finally tossed the covers down and crept to the stairs. She felt like talking to him now. She snorted quietly. She wanted to make out with him. But THAT was against the rules. Damning the rules in her head, she came down the stairs, grabbing a glass of water as her 'excuse' if she -whoops- woke him, she paused at the doorway to the living room. And "Awwwwwed." Then quite felt the compulsion to drool, then smile proudly and say, "Mine." Spike lay curled up on the couch, shirtless and tousled.
No strange dreams this time. Spike was totally relaxed, something that was rare for him since the return of his soul. Maybe it was the smell of the couch. The scent of the Scoobies, of Buffy, Dawn, and a lingering scent of Joyce. It smelled like home.
She sighed as she realized the curling part was due to the no cover part. She laid the glass of water on the table and went to the laundry cupboard.
She took out a warm blanket she remembered her mother tucking around her. She walked to the living room and watched him a moment. Sighing again, she draped it over him, her eyes deftly avoiding where he had unbuttoned his jeans to allow more movement. She tucked it around him, covering his feet especially well, and had to work very hard to not laugh when his feet wiggled in the covers, freeing themselves.
Spike sighed, and gripped the cover instinctivly, snuggling down against the pillow. The blanket too had the scent of home, of family. Of love. He let out another sigh and smiled in his sleep.
Buffy swallowed and smiled, wanting to touch his hair. She gave him one last look and went back to the staircase to go to bed.
==============================================
Buffy looked blearily around her room. When had she fallen asleep?? And what was that smell?? Getting out of bed, unmindful of her sushi jamma pants and white tank, she trooped downstairs, following her nose. Willow was gone, Dawn was gone... Spike was asleep and- She stopped short in the kitchen.
"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame, you give love a bad name...", Spike sang, standing in front of the stove, Dawn's portable cd player strapped to his jeans. "I play my part, and you play your game, you give love a bad name.." He hummed along with the instrumental part of the song.
Her mouth went dry, and she felt the urge to laugh at the same time. There Spike stood at the stove, cooking bacon, as unbuttoned, shirtless and curly haired as the night before. Singing along to Bon Jovi on Dawns Discman. She walked up to him, quietly, and ran her hands lightly down his ribs.
"Yah!", Spike yelped, spinning around and throwing a piece of bacon square into the sink. "Slayer," he said, quickly removing the headphones. "Uh, I didn't see you there."
A smile quirked her lips before she bit it back. "No?"
"No. I was.. uh.. making breakfast."
She began to casually bop around the kitchen humming "I played my part-" she stopped. Sniffed. "It smells great."
If Spike could have blushed, he would have. "Oh, so, you heard that, huh?"
She took a rocker stance, belted out, "Darlin' YOU give love... A BAD NAME!"
Spike fought a grin. He was losing. "So, um, I'll take that as a yes."
She gave him a smile, and hit him with her hips to move him away from the stove, she leaned forward to sniff appreciatively.
He did his best to look annoyed. Untill the bacon popped grease onto his back. "OW! Bloody stupid...!", he growled, slapping at his back.
She ran her hand over it softly. "You ok?" She looked concerned. "Bacon grease won't make you dusty?"
He chuckled. "Not unless you've had a preist over here to bless the bacon it won't." He hissed quietly. "Bloody hurts, though."
She frowned softly, and kissed his back gently. She turned him to face the stove and went the the sink, wetted a papertowel with cool water and ran it over his back.
"Cold," he muttered. But that was only to distract himself from the gentle feeling of her lips on his back. "Thanks, luv." He turned around, and removed the bacon pan from the heat. "I still have to do the eggs."
She looked around, feeling kinda wierd. "Can I.. uh... burn toast for you?"
He laughed. "I don't think you can do that, luv. I set the toaster on 'light'."
She gave it a good glare. "It hates me." "Want me to.. " She mimed pushing the button down.
"Go ahead, luv. I'll make sure to save you from the horror of burning toast." He cracked two eggs into the pan with the bacon grease. "They're really good this way, with the bacon stuff on them."
She gave his back a good glare. Shoved toast into the evil toater and rammed the button malisciously. "They're horrible for you. You get fat, and clogged arteries."
"Not me, luv. It's not easy for a vamp to gain weight. It's easy to lose it, not to gain. And clogged arteries wouldn't bother me much, since I don't have a pulse." He flipped the eggs in the pan. "Do you like yours fried or scrambled?"
She arched a brow pointedly and placed her pointer and middle finger against her jugular. She said meekly, "Dippy?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Beg your pardon? Dippy?"
"Um... yeah. Ya know, dippy. You can put the toast in the yolk, cuz.. it's.. dippy. But all the white has to be done. Because snotty white parts of the egg are soooo gross."
"Oh," he said with a knowing smile. "I'd better pull them up now, then. Personally..", he continued, removing the eggs from the pan. ".. I like them runny, then I eat the whites off, and put the whole yolk in my mouth. Then the warm, goopy stuff flows down my throat. Yum." He licked his lips.
Buffy about threw up on his bare feet. "That's so sick."
He noticed her look. "What? I'm a vampire, what do you want?" He put two pieces of bacon on each plate, removed the only slightly burned toast from the toaster and put a piece on each plate. Then set the plates on opposite sides of the table.
She pointed at the toast. "SEE?? It HATES me!"
He chuckled. "I'm starting to see what you mean." He poured two glasses of orange juice and handed one to her, then took his place at the table.
She sat opposite him, bowed her head a moment, eyes closed, then lifted it, smiled and picked up her fork.
"What do you think?", he asked. He actually looked vulnerable, as if his cooking was as important to him as his poetry.
She dipped her taost into her eggs, pushed around the yolk and found absolutely no snot in her eggs. She smiled widely. "The best most perfect eggs I've ever eaten."
He grinned widely and stuffed a yolk into his mouth. "Thanks, luv," he said around the mouthful.
She glanced away while he did... whatever he did with his nasty eggs and nibbled on her bacon.
He swallowed, then gave her a smile, and dipped his toast in his other egg. Took a bite.
She arched a brow at him. "You like?"
He swallowed. "Good." He shot her a look. "Now didn't we say that we were going to rethink some of our rules?"
She tried to cover her small cough. "Yeah.. absolutely."
"Ok, want me to go first?"
"Sure."
He grinned. "Against my better judgement, I am removing the no tickling rule. Since we've both shown that we're not listening to it anyway." He shot her a pointed look, refering to her way of getting his attention earlier that morning.
She smiled innocently. "Ok. Anymore?"
"Your turn."
She put her fork down. "I want to kiss you."
He cocked his head. "We didn't have a no kissing rule, luv."
She took a deep breath. "I want to kiss you. Not softly, not sweetly. I want to run my hands over your body, feel yours on mine, and brushing my lips across yours once in a while is *not* good for my sleep cycle.l" She looked at him, nervous, jumpy, and worried.
Spike choked on his bacon. "I'm *cough* fine with *cough* that," he said, whacking himself on the chest.
She sighed frustratedly. "You couldn't have said that sooner or anything??"
"Excuse me for choking, Slayer," he said, simi-sarcasticly.
She shoved her nose in the air. "Whatever. Like you need air."
He "humphed". "Nice to know you care."
"I can't *believe* you wanted to kiss me too! The whole time, or just the other night?"
"Every bloody time I'm around you! You just have that effect. The other night, however, that wasn't the only effect that you were having." He got up, put his plate in the sink, and walked into the living room. He sat on the couch.
She sighed slightly angrily, left her plate and stalked after him. "I'm being serious. You felt you couldn't tell me this before? And do -not- walk away from me! I especially don't need that from you!"
He placed his elbows on his knees, rested his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, luv. But after, what happened, I didn't want to push you. I thought it was just me."
She sat on a chair adjacent to the couch. "I redecorated the bathroom. If you pushed me, I'd have hurt you, Spike. It's that easy. I don't think, not even fear a little bit, that you'll d-do that- that again. Ever. I really don't."
He glanced up, tears making his blue eyes glisten. "You.. you don't?" He sniffed. "Why not?"
She considered carefully. "Your eyes. Ever since you came back... They glow. They've changed. And your eyes have never lied."
He ran a hand through his hair, in a vain attempt to smooth out the curls. "Oh. I wish I could see what you see, Slayer."
She frowned slightly. "I wish you could, too. You're... you're a good man, Spike. Screwed up, yes. So have I. So has everyone. But when I look at you now, I can't see... the... the badness in your eyes. I just.. I see you, not some ex-Big Bad, trying to be bad ass still. Just Spike."
He gave a half-hearted grin. "I don't know if I should thank you, or growl at you sometimes, luv. For now, I'll settle for thanking you. I've never met anyone with a heart like yours. You're amazing, you know that?"
She tucked her hands behind her head, and leaned back in her chair, eyes closed. "Yup. I'm the incredible resurect-ee Buffy doll, complete with psychoses."
That got a minor chuckle out of Spike. He layed down, stretching out across the couch. "We all have our little psychoses, luv. Even me."
She cracked open an eye at him. "Yeah.. I saw the whips and chains."
"That wasn't what I meant. I meant like, irrational fears, stuff like that."
"Like what? And for the record, no on anything in that trunk."
He rolled onto his side so that he could see her better. "Well, take me for instance. I have a terrible case of clustrophobia, and a minor case of arachnophobia. And, now, I'm also scared of beetles." He thought for a moment. "I don't think there's a phobia name for that one."
She glanced at him. "Share the clustrophobia. Coffins. Way with the yuck. I'm sure there's a name for the beetle thing. There's a name for people who do trees."
"Yeah, that's where mine came from too. And I don't even have to worry about there being enough air." He glanced at her. "People who what?"
"Ya know... get their groove on with a tree. Called Denderfelia."
Spike shuddered. "I just call that sick. And I should know."
She laughed. "Dang.... a tree is all it takes to gross you out."
He gave her a pointed look. "It's not the tree, luv. I like trees. It's the... other part.. ech." Another shudder.
She laughed. "Ya know what's bad? Dawn told me that."
He cocked his head. "That is bad. And how exactly did she find this out?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Ya know, I didn't ask. I just kinda sat there, all fishy-faced."
"Kind of like me right now." He growled. "Remind me to ask her later."
She shook her head. "I think some things are better left alone."
He looked at her. "You're probably right, luv. And this is definitly one of those things." He grinned at her. "Is there anything else that you've got a phobia about, Slayer?"
"Clowns."
He laughed. "Clowns? What, did you get that from Harris? How can you be scared of clowns? They're funny."
She gave him a level look. "Clowns are evil. What are they hiding behind all that makeup? And the cars???" She shuddered. "And NO ONE should be able to bend a balloon like that."
"The make-up is to make them look funny. But I'm with you on the cars. The balloon thing, though? I think you need to have that checked out. It could be evidence of somethin' else."
"Thank you, Dr. Phil."
He grinned. "Not a problem, Oprah."
She arched her brow at him. "Oprah?" She pounced on his reclining form. Ran her fingers visciously over his very bare ribs, tickling. "Take it back."
"Ahh!", he yelped. "Never!"
She bit his shoulder lightly, kept tickling. "Never, hmm?"
Spike's eyes grew big as he squirmed. "No!" Another fit of laughter. "You can't make me.."
She was calmly conquering his body with her fingers, then moved up to the undersides of his arms, one had still on his ribs, and she bit his shoulder again. "Come on... Just four little words."
He continued to squirm. How the hell did she know all his weak spots? "I'll never say it!"
She tsk-ed. "Not the four words I was looking for.. Oh, well. Just have to keep tickling you." And she did. "It's a good thing I didn't think of this six years ago. You'd be all dusty."
Spike couldn't take much more, he was beginning to crack. "Stop..", he choked out, practically begging.
She arched her brow, continuing her assault. "Four words, Spike... That's all I need to hear.. and I'll stop."
There were tears streaming down Spike's face, and his laughter was bordering on the hysterical. "I... take..."
She slowed her tickling pace. "Yes..? You take what?"
He let out a cross between a giggle and a growl. "...it.... back," he surrendered.
She sat, kneeling over him, and patted his ribs. She tossed her hair and looked at him triumphantly.
Spike lay his head back, panting. "Bloody hell." He scratched at his ribs. "Now I'm all itchy. And how exactly would you have made me dusty six years ago?" He looked at her curiously.
She grinned, patted his abs again and said, "Easy, tickle tickle tickle, helpless vamp, bam! Stake in heart. Dust-city."
He growled playfully. "That would not have been fair."
The triumph still gleamed in her eyes. "Which is what would have made it so fun."
He "humphed", and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fun for you. And I was not helpless. I could have gotten you off, if I really wanted to."
She nodded. "Yeah. I sensed that amid the helpless giggling."
He growled again. "I was not helpless, or giggling. Dawn giggles. I do not."
"Sure." She wiggled, trying to get more comfortable, forgetting for a moment that she kneeling across Spike's hips. "Cuz, ya know, that was... manly giggles."
He glared at her. "Repeat after me... Spike... does... not... giggle."
"Spike giggles like a girl."
He growled, but he couldn't really get at her, given the possitions that they were in. "I hate you."
She pouted. "Oww." She tilted her head. "Listen."
"To what?"
Her thumb started to rub over her pinky in a circle. "The world's tiniest violin playing 'My Heart Bleeds For You'."
He growled again, but it was more to hide a chuckle than to actually growl. "Cute, Slayer. Really cute."
She grinned happily, bounced cheerfully. "I know. I've been waiting forever to use that one."
This time, he did chuckle. "Whoa, Slayer. Watch where you're bouncing. You might rupture something I need."
Her eyes were genuinely confused. Then a slight pink tinged her cheeks. She scurried backwards. "Whoops?"
He grinned. "Not that I really minded. After all, what did you call me the other night? Perv-o-matic?"
She crinkled her nose. "Yeah, but that was you and-"she shuddered. "Whitewash the mind... whitewash the mind..."
He chuckled again. "Believe me, luv. The mental image is easier to forget than the actual happening." A slight shudder followed this. "But I have learned something from this morning, however."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Always wear a shirt around you."
She arched her brow. "Why?"
"Makes it harder for you to have access to the extreme ticklish spot that is my ribs."
Buffy shrugged. "Wouldn't stop me."
He thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll wear a thick sweater, and tuck it into my pants, and cinch my belt so tight that I will lose whatever semblance of circulation that I have. Would that stop you?"
She shook her head. "Nope. I'd have to tear it off ya. Get in a good tickle here and there.Besides, like your pants aren't tight enough as they are?"
"..grrr..." That was the only response. That, and Spike tucking his bare feet beneath a pillow.
She looked behind her, caught the movement. "Feet, too, hmmm?" She grinned. "Don't worry. I won't tickle them now. I want to catch you off guard."
He sighed. A mixture of relief and foreboding. "Well, you might as well know. I'm pretty much ticklish to some degree all over." He snorted at himself. "I just had to remove that stupid rule."
She crawled back up him, sitting on his legs. "New rule?" Her voice was serious, and so were her eyes.
He caught the change of mood. "Ok. What is it?"
"You don't ever, ever walk away from me, or turn away from me when we're fighting, or sharing, or.. or anything. If we've got to talk, we can do it to eachother's faces."
"Even if we're embarassed? Even if we think we're going to cry?"
"Not looking me in the eye is one thing. I can't... It makes me want to kick the hell out of you when you just.. walk away."
He nodded. "I know the feeling, luv. There was a time when you were always the one walking away."
"That's fair. I was. But I'm not now. I might back away a little bit. But I don't walk away. Not anymore."
He squared his shoulders. "If you can do it, I can do it. No walking away. Not until whatever we're talking about is settled. And you know your new rule, on account of losing the game the other night."
"Bastard. I can't believe I lost. But yeah... I've lost denial privledges. That doesn't mean you can just ask me things like life is a big game of Truth."
He held up a hand. "True. And, just so it's fair, I'll take away my denial privledges too." He grinned. "I do have one thing to ask you, though."
"All right..." She looked wary. Very wary.
Another grin. A playful one. "You know mine, but I want to be able to defend myself if you pounce me again. So, disclosure: Where are you ticklish?"
She sighed. Groaned. Grabbed his hand. "Here." She placed it on the indent of her hip. He poked experimentally. She wiggled, jerked a bit. "The other is... um... off limits."
He grinned, removed his hand. "Oh. Maybe you'll tell me sometime?"
She gave a half grin. "Probably not."
He chuckled. "Are there any other rules that we need to change? Or new ones to be made?"
"Did we.. officially change the kissing rule?"
He thought. "Actually, I'm not sure what you changed it to. Things got a little confusing after that. What is it now?"
"I.. You know what I want. What do you want?"
He reached over, ran a hand gently down her arm. "Pretty much the same."
Her stomach knotted, released. "Ok."
"How about a rule dealing with... uh..." He cocked his head and scratched at his ribs again. "Hang on. I forgot what I was going to say."
She gave a breathy laugh. "Ok." She kept inching up his legs, back to where she was earlier. Spike had noticed her movement. As a matter of fact, that was what had made him forget.
"Do we have a rule about how far we can go during a kiss?"
"Not all the way. I don't know.. Sometimes, I just... I want to be... held, and sometimes I just wanna be all over you, and... I just don't know. Do you know?"
He chuckled. "I have similar things. There are times that I really need to be held. And there are other times when I have to hold myself back." He gave her a pointed look. "Like the other night on the crypt roof."
She swallowed, knowing she had no idea what she'd have done if he hadn't let go. "Yeah, well, join the club. Self-control isn't something we've been exercising too well."
He snorted. "Tell me about it. I wonder if any other couple in history can say that they have literally brought the house down." He thought for a moment. "Granted, it was abandoned to begin with, but still..."
Her eyes clouded. "I'm not proud of that."
He held out his arms, beaconing for her to lean on him. "Me neither, luv. I was just trying to make a joke. Apparently, it wasn't a good one. Maybe I'll leave the joking to the Whelp."
She slowly lay down on him, her head beneath his chin. "I want to be proud of this... because... the house, the DoubleMeat, the Bronze... It makes me feel ashamed."
He put his arms around her, holding her gently. "To tell you the truth, I don't feel too good about them either. Must be the soul again."
She nodded. "Any more rules on your mind?"
He grinned. "How about that we stay like this forever? Or do you have something in mind?"
She shrugged. "So... kissing rules firmly in place? What about um... touchy, yummy hands rules?"
He chuckled. "Nice choice of words. How about you make this one up? I'm too relaxed."
"Ok... to the waist is fine on me. What's ok with you?"
"I'm in total agreement on that one. Less chance for temptation."
She looked into his eyes, her own slightly hooded. "How much temptation?"
"What do you think?" He shook his head. "Personally, I don't want a repeat of the roof incident."
She shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't have to be."
"Oh?"
She felt ridiculous. Apparently, Spike wasn't getting the seduction she was attempting. And little wonder. Gotta love the shushi jamma's... "No."
Oh, Spike had caught it, alright. He just wanted to make sure that Buffy really was saying what he thought she was saying. "So, if I were to kiss you, solely for experimental, rule testing, purposes, it wouldn't be too much temptation?" He leaned toward her...
She wetted her lips. "Absolutely not." Her lips parted softly.
Spike leaned in, and their lips met in a whole new kind of kiss. It was intense, yet sweet, holding the promise of more to come. Tentativly, his hands roamed around her back... Her own hands ran softly over his chest, and wonder ran throug her mind. She had actually been afraid that the heat would be gone? God, what was she thinking?? She nuzzled him softly, changing the angle of the kiss. After a moment, the pulled away at the same time. Both panting slightly.
Her eyes were wide, pupils slightly dialated. She closed her mouth, her brow knitted in confusion, and leaned forward, kissing him again. Spike had needed a moment to register what was happening, and he gladly leaned in for another kiss. She may not have said that she loved him yet, but her lips spoke volumes. She pulled back slightly, feathered kisses down his neck. They stalled momentarily at Spike's own scar, the one left from his turning. She kissed it, too, scraped her teeth over it gently, giving it a last kiss before roaming back to his lips. Spike alternately purred and moaned, then quickly met her mouth with his own. His heart felt as if it would burst with joy. This, this had to be what heaven was like. She felt the love pouring from him, his lips. It felt so it ached, in a place in her chest. His mouth was perfect. And hers fit. She gave a small moan.
They continued reaquointing themselves with eachother's mouths and torsos, finally pulling apart and resting their foreheads together. "I love you, Buffy Summers," Spike whispered in a low voice. "So much."
She was pulling in hard breathes. The ache in her heart was growing, and she didn't even feel the tears fall from her eyes to Spike's cheeks. "I - I think I..." Deep breath. "I love you, Spike." Her tears kept falling.
He almost couldn't believe what he had just heard. The compulsion to ask "what?" was almost too strong to ignore. He rubbed his hands on her back, held her close. "Shh, it's okay, luv. Please don't cry."
She couldn't stop. "I can't... I'm... Why does it still hurt?" She looked at him with tear-stained cheeks. "I'm still confused."
"Confused about what? What hurts?" Now Spike was confused.
She put a hand where Spike's heart should have been beating. "It still feels tight... like it's gonna bust." She snuffled once. "And why am I crying?"
Spike sniffed. "I don't know, but I think it's contagious." A tear ran down his cheek, mingling with hers.
She gave a half laugh and laid her cheek against his. "I thought... I thought figuring it out would... would make it clearer.. but I still have no idea where we're going."
He nuzzled her. "Neither do I. But I do know one thing."
She looked in his eyes, begging reassurance. "What?"
He hugged her gently and nuzzled her again. "Wherever we're going, we'll get there. Together."