+Movie Star+
Summary: The sequel to "Until Forever". Actors Buffy Summers and Spike Gilbert, along with the rest of the gang, finally make their way to the Oscar's . . . of course, nothing ever is easy in Hollywood.
Disclaimer: One day, a little birdie landed on my windowsill, as I was gazing outside, dreaming of my very own James Marsters. The little birdie chirped brightly, and then the sky darkened and the wind started blowing roughly. Then the little birdie turned into an evil little birdie, and started cackling insanely. He looked me in the eye, and said, evilly of course, "You don't own anything. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy do, charisma. Eat that." He then flew away, chuckling. Well, that's what I say happened anyways. The people that drop the food off in the little metal slot in front of my padded room, the ones that wear the white med coats, say that never happened. Screw you too, Doc! Um, yeah. . .
A/n: It's here! It's finally here! *runs around the room with her arms out like an airplane* The sequel to my first A/U Spuffy story, "Until Forever". I'm so proud I got off my ass to do this story in such a record time. It's a huge accomplishment for me to be doing two stories at once. YAY! As always, please review. It gives me a major happy.
And so it begins. . .
+!+!+!+!+!+!+
"Jesus bloody Christ, we're already late! Would it be the soddin' Apocalypse if your eye shadow was one shade too light?"
Buffy poked her head out of their large washroom, pretty face mostly done up and long blonde hair clipped into a trendy style. She rolled her eyes at him, than disappeared from Spike's view again. He rolled his blue eyes right back at her, as he adjusted his silk red tie.
"Yes, in fact, it would. Actually, if I had the wrong eye shadow shade, it could completely end my whole acting career. . . "
Spike tuned out his girlfriend, sighing to himself as he sat down on their lush bed and slipped on one shiny black dress shoe. He muttered to himself about women and their make up routines. It had been bad enough when Buffy had to go shoe shopping for the Academy Awards, and then looking for the right jewelry. All he could say was thank God up above for the fact she had already had a dress picked out. He smiled wickedly as he remembered that very dress, and the things they had done when he had seen her in it for the first time. She hadn't been able to walk for a full day.
But, anyways, that was done and over with. He had his suit picked out in one hour flat, along with shoes and had made sure Buffy recognized that fact. She had just waved her hand and said that things for her (a shop- aholic in his opinion, and a bad case at that) weren't that easy. And now this, right before the hugest movie gathering of the year for actors and actresses. Buffy had insisted on doing her own makeup, after she came back from the hairdressers. He was fine with that, except he hadn't known that would take longer than three hours, even with him cajoling her the whole time.
"Bloody hell," he muttered for the tenth time that night, as he finished putting on both shoes. He looked at his silver Gucci watch, and bit back a scream. The limo was already outside waiting, and still Buffy wasn't even close to being ready. That was being hopeful. She probably wouldn't still be ready for Oscars next year at the rate she was going
Finally, after what seemed like another hour, she stepped out of the bathroom, clad in her fuzzy pink robe. He resisted the urge to smile, as he did every time he laid eyes on her. The two of them had been inseparable ever since the moment they had decided to be together, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Spike just couldn't believe that it had taken him all that time and bickering before he could realize he loved her. But it had been well worth the wait.
Buffy almost stopped dead in her tracks, well, her bare feet, when she saw Spike. Yummy, yummy, yummy She couldn't take her eyes of off him, even as he frowned self-consciously. "What?" he asked, fidgeting on their bed from her riveted gaze. Buffy smirked then shook her head, turning away and striding over to the closet, eyes still hooked on him.
He was wearing a gorgeous charcoal gray silk suit, tailored to his slim build. Underneath he had on a crisp white shirt, adorned with a silky red tie that gleamed in the light. His platinum hair was tousled sexily, and his face was clean-shaven. Spike looked absolutely edible in just about anything he wore, but tonight he looked especially delicious. And he was all hers.
She beamed with the thought.
Spike just shook his head, as he saw Buffy stare into space, standing in front of her closet as she seemed to start beaming out of nowhere. "Can we hurry it up, luv? They won't wait for us," he said teasingly, usual smirk on his face, and she snapped out of her trance. "What?" she asked him, forehead creasing.
"Hurry up!" he demanded. "That's what."
"Oh," she said, and then rolled her eyes. She slipped off her robe, Spike's mouth suddenly going very dry at the sight of her in bright red lingerie and a garter. She smiled mischievously at him, as he gazed at her from the bed. She struck a pose, golden skin shining enticingly in the overhead light, and Spike groaned. "You like?" she asked innocently.
"Get over here," he growled, and she just laughed and shook her head, blonde hair bouncing with the movement.
"No way. You keep telling me to hurry up, remember?" she laughed, and he had to chuckle. "True. But who cares about the Awards? Let's just stay here all night." He stood up and walked over to her, looking entirely like a hungry predator. She shivered, consumed with want, but swatted his hands away playfully when he reached her. He groaned and pouted like a little child. She almost, almost gave in at that look. Spike could pout better than her.
"No, you know we can't do that. Me and you both are nominated. Besides, if we stay home now, then what will we have left for the celebration?" Buffy asked him, and he relented, eyes shining. She stepped into her black dress, and turned around so Spike could do the zipper. He automatically pulled the little metal tab up, and she turned around and smiled brightly at him, pecking a quick kiss on his lips.
As she pulled on some strappy black shoes that Spike still couldn't quit understand, he had to physically stop himself from jumping her. What a lovely sight she made, black dress clinging to her every curve and showing smooth patches of bare skin. He watched her as she took one last glance in the mirror, and picked up her small black silk clutch.
All those other poncy actors better make sure to keep their eyes to themselves tonight, or he would have to 'deal' with them.
She wiped away a smudge of nude lipstick, as Spike wrapped his arms around her slim waist. He rested his chin on her small shoulder, sighing in content as her smell wafted to him. "I love you baby, you know that?"
Buffy winked at him in the mirror. "I know." She grinned. "I love you too though, so where does that leave us?" Spike pretended to ponder this. "I guess it leaves us here, together, pet." He nuzzled her neck as she smiled happily. The moment was perfect for Spike to finally do it, and then-
HONK! HONK HONK!
"Dammit," he muttered, as the limo driver blared the horn. He pulled off of Buffy reluctantly, as she straightened out and grabbed his hand, pulling him out the bedroom door. "It's time to rock," she said, and he trudged behind her, only brightening as he thought that tonight was the night. The small velvet box in his suit pocket would attest to that.
The couple made their way to the waiting limo, hand in hand, unprepared for the night of Hollywood craziness that would inevitably intrude in everything.
After all, we are talking about snobby prima donnas and macho pigs. Not that any of those are bad things, of course.
+!+!+!+!+
*To be continued . . .
Summary: The sequel to "Until Forever". Actors Buffy Summers and Spike Gilbert, along with the rest of the gang, finally make their way to the Oscar's . . . of course, nothing ever is easy in Hollywood.
Disclaimer: One day, a little birdie landed on my windowsill, as I was gazing outside, dreaming of my very own James Marsters. The little birdie chirped brightly, and then the sky darkened and the wind started blowing roughly. Then the little birdie turned into an evil little birdie, and started cackling insanely. He looked me in the eye, and said, evilly of course, "You don't own anything. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy do, charisma. Eat that." He then flew away, chuckling. Well, that's what I say happened anyways. The people that drop the food off in the little metal slot in front of my padded room, the ones that wear the white med coats, say that never happened. Screw you too, Doc! Um, yeah. . .
A/n: It's here! It's finally here! *runs around the room with her arms out like an airplane* The sequel to my first A/U Spuffy story, "Until Forever". I'm so proud I got off my ass to do this story in such a record time. It's a huge accomplishment for me to be doing two stories at once. YAY! As always, please review. It gives me a major happy.
And so it begins. . .
+!+!+!+!+!+!+
"Jesus bloody Christ, we're already late! Would it be the soddin' Apocalypse if your eye shadow was one shade too light?"
Buffy poked her head out of their large washroom, pretty face mostly done up and long blonde hair clipped into a trendy style. She rolled her eyes at him, than disappeared from Spike's view again. He rolled his blue eyes right back at her, as he adjusted his silk red tie.
"Yes, in fact, it would. Actually, if I had the wrong eye shadow shade, it could completely end my whole acting career. . . "
Spike tuned out his girlfriend, sighing to himself as he sat down on their lush bed and slipped on one shiny black dress shoe. He muttered to himself about women and their make up routines. It had been bad enough when Buffy had to go shoe shopping for the Academy Awards, and then looking for the right jewelry. All he could say was thank God up above for the fact she had already had a dress picked out. He smiled wickedly as he remembered that very dress, and the things they had done when he had seen her in it for the first time. She hadn't been able to walk for a full day.
But, anyways, that was done and over with. He had his suit picked out in one hour flat, along with shoes and had made sure Buffy recognized that fact. She had just waved her hand and said that things for her (a shop- aholic in his opinion, and a bad case at that) weren't that easy. And now this, right before the hugest movie gathering of the year for actors and actresses. Buffy had insisted on doing her own makeup, after she came back from the hairdressers. He was fine with that, except he hadn't known that would take longer than three hours, even with him cajoling her the whole time.
"Bloody hell," he muttered for the tenth time that night, as he finished putting on both shoes. He looked at his silver Gucci watch, and bit back a scream. The limo was already outside waiting, and still Buffy wasn't even close to being ready. That was being hopeful. She probably wouldn't still be ready for Oscars next year at the rate she was going
Finally, after what seemed like another hour, she stepped out of the bathroom, clad in her fuzzy pink robe. He resisted the urge to smile, as he did every time he laid eyes on her. The two of them had been inseparable ever since the moment they had decided to be together, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Spike just couldn't believe that it had taken him all that time and bickering before he could realize he loved her. But it had been well worth the wait.
Buffy almost stopped dead in her tracks, well, her bare feet, when she saw Spike. Yummy, yummy, yummy She couldn't take her eyes of off him, even as he frowned self-consciously. "What?" he asked, fidgeting on their bed from her riveted gaze. Buffy smirked then shook her head, turning away and striding over to the closet, eyes still hooked on him.
He was wearing a gorgeous charcoal gray silk suit, tailored to his slim build. Underneath he had on a crisp white shirt, adorned with a silky red tie that gleamed in the light. His platinum hair was tousled sexily, and his face was clean-shaven. Spike looked absolutely edible in just about anything he wore, but tonight he looked especially delicious. And he was all hers.
She beamed with the thought.
Spike just shook his head, as he saw Buffy stare into space, standing in front of her closet as she seemed to start beaming out of nowhere. "Can we hurry it up, luv? They won't wait for us," he said teasingly, usual smirk on his face, and she snapped out of her trance. "What?" she asked him, forehead creasing.
"Hurry up!" he demanded. "That's what."
"Oh," she said, and then rolled her eyes. She slipped off her robe, Spike's mouth suddenly going very dry at the sight of her in bright red lingerie and a garter. She smiled mischievously at him, as he gazed at her from the bed. She struck a pose, golden skin shining enticingly in the overhead light, and Spike groaned. "You like?" she asked innocently.
"Get over here," he growled, and she just laughed and shook her head, blonde hair bouncing with the movement.
"No way. You keep telling me to hurry up, remember?" she laughed, and he had to chuckle. "True. But who cares about the Awards? Let's just stay here all night." He stood up and walked over to her, looking entirely like a hungry predator. She shivered, consumed with want, but swatted his hands away playfully when he reached her. He groaned and pouted like a little child. She almost, almost gave in at that look. Spike could pout better than her.
"No, you know we can't do that. Me and you both are nominated. Besides, if we stay home now, then what will we have left for the celebration?" Buffy asked him, and he relented, eyes shining. She stepped into her black dress, and turned around so Spike could do the zipper. He automatically pulled the little metal tab up, and she turned around and smiled brightly at him, pecking a quick kiss on his lips.
As she pulled on some strappy black shoes that Spike still couldn't quit understand, he had to physically stop himself from jumping her. What a lovely sight she made, black dress clinging to her every curve and showing smooth patches of bare skin. He watched her as she took one last glance in the mirror, and picked up her small black silk clutch.
All those other poncy actors better make sure to keep their eyes to themselves tonight, or he would have to 'deal' with them.
She wiped away a smudge of nude lipstick, as Spike wrapped his arms around her slim waist. He rested his chin on her small shoulder, sighing in content as her smell wafted to him. "I love you baby, you know that?"
Buffy winked at him in the mirror. "I know." She grinned. "I love you too though, so where does that leave us?" Spike pretended to ponder this. "I guess it leaves us here, together, pet." He nuzzled her neck as she smiled happily. The moment was perfect for Spike to finally do it, and then-
HONK! HONK HONK!
"Dammit," he muttered, as the limo driver blared the horn. He pulled off of Buffy reluctantly, as she straightened out and grabbed his hand, pulling him out the bedroom door. "It's time to rock," she said, and he trudged behind her, only brightening as he thought that tonight was the night. The small velvet box in his suit pocket would attest to that.
The couple made their way to the waiting limo, hand in hand, unprepared for the night of Hollywood craziness that would inevitably intrude in everything.
After all, we are talking about snobby prima donnas and macho pigs. Not that any of those are bad things, of course.
+!+!+!+!+
*To be continued . . .