Title: Beauty Isn't Everything
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Buffy Summers is a beauty pageant queen. Nineteen-year-old Spike is the boyfriend of one. The two meet at a pageant in Hawaii and share one intimate moment. Unfortunately, the two must go their separate ways after that and think they will never meet again . . . Or will they? Hmm . . .
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Spike, Buffy, Harmony, Angel, Joyce, blah, blah, they all belong to Joss Whedon and his brain. But, I do own Dylan. Yay me. LoL.
.:a/n:. If you read my last few author's notes, you probably saw they were a bit . . . wrong. That's cause I forgot to delete them, making me look super stupid . . . but then again . . .I am. Short chapter. May be more soon, may not be.
~~**~~
Morning couldn't come quick enough for Buffy. The night before, when she had arrived home, she had been lucky to find her mother asleep, and Dylan nowhere in sight. She had managed to get away with whatever it was her and Spike were doing, and was quite thankful for it. She just hoped she'd have that same luck that night.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Buffy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at her alarm clock, 7:15am. Sighing, she stood and headed into the bathroom. She started to run the water for a quick shower when there was a knock on the door. Slowly, she left the bathroom, leaving the water going, and opened the door. Disappointed and annoyed when she saw Dylan standing there, she walked back to where she wanted to be, without saying a word.
He looked confused, but came inside and closed the door behind him. He started to follow her in, and it was only then that she spoke. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Taking a shower with my fiancé."
Buffy sighed and closed the door in his face. "I like to take my showers with me, thanks," she yelled through the door.
~~**~~
When Buffy was out of the shower, had dried her hair was lazily throwing on some eye shadow, her mother walked into the hotel room. She walked over behind Buffy, resting her hands on the back of the chair.
"You're doing that all wrong," she pestered.
"Who cares mom? They'll fix it downstairs anyways," Buffy said, stopping and staring at her mother's reflection in the mirror. "Do I have to go to rehearsal today? The competition is tomorrow."
"And the more reason for you to rehearse. You don't want to be messing up when it really counts."
"But-"
"No buts. Leave the make-up, you're going to be late. How do you think that'll look on me?" she asked, pulling her daughter up. "Stand straight."
"You're kidding. They aren't even in here," Buffy said.
"That's a cute outfit," Joyce said, ignoring her.
"I guess," Buffy said, shifting on her feet. The pants she wore were black and leather, and her white tank top just covered the belt that held them up. Her black leather jacket covered that, while her blonde hair rested on her shoulders. "I've worn it before and you never seemed to care."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Buffy said, as she followed her mother out the door.
~~**~~
(.:a/n:. If you haven't noticed, I tend to skip the little "rehearsals" if they even have those at beauty pageants, cause I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Why I'm even writing this story, who knows? . . . Maybe for the spuffyness)
Buffy found herself in the same place she had the night before. Standing by the door, staring out into the big world, while her mother talked to people who she didn't give a damn about. The only thing she was happy about was meeting Spike in an hour. 'Should I change?' she thought. 'No, you look fine in this.'
"Hey pet, we meet again," she heard the familiar British accent whisper in her ear. When she turned around, she fell forward slightly into his arms, brushing his lips and wanting more. So much more. "Not yet luv, but soon."
She watched as he walked out the doors, leaving her behind. But she didn't frown, quite the opposite. Because she knew he wasn't walking away from her, but waiting for her out there.
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Buffy Summers is a beauty pageant queen. Nineteen-year-old Spike is the boyfriend of one. The two meet at a pageant in Hawaii and share one intimate moment. Unfortunately, the two must go their separate ways after that and think they will never meet again . . . Or will they? Hmm . . .
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Spike, Buffy, Harmony, Angel, Joyce, blah, blah, they all belong to Joss Whedon and his brain. But, I do own Dylan. Yay me. LoL.
.:a/n:. If you read my last few author's notes, you probably saw they were a bit . . . wrong. That's cause I forgot to delete them, making me look super stupid . . . but then again . . .I am. Short chapter. May be more soon, may not be.
~~**~~
Morning couldn't come quick enough for Buffy. The night before, when she had arrived home, she had been lucky to find her mother asleep, and Dylan nowhere in sight. She had managed to get away with whatever it was her and Spike were doing, and was quite thankful for it. She just hoped she'd have that same luck that night.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Buffy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at her alarm clock, 7:15am. Sighing, she stood and headed into the bathroom. She started to run the water for a quick shower when there was a knock on the door. Slowly, she left the bathroom, leaving the water going, and opened the door. Disappointed and annoyed when she saw Dylan standing there, she walked back to where she wanted to be, without saying a word.
He looked confused, but came inside and closed the door behind him. He started to follow her in, and it was only then that she spoke. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Taking a shower with my fiancé."
Buffy sighed and closed the door in his face. "I like to take my showers with me, thanks," she yelled through the door.
~~**~~
When Buffy was out of the shower, had dried her hair was lazily throwing on some eye shadow, her mother walked into the hotel room. She walked over behind Buffy, resting her hands on the back of the chair.
"You're doing that all wrong," she pestered.
"Who cares mom? They'll fix it downstairs anyways," Buffy said, stopping and staring at her mother's reflection in the mirror. "Do I have to go to rehearsal today? The competition is tomorrow."
"And the more reason for you to rehearse. You don't want to be messing up when it really counts."
"But-"
"No buts. Leave the make-up, you're going to be late. How do you think that'll look on me?" she asked, pulling her daughter up. "Stand straight."
"You're kidding. They aren't even in here," Buffy said.
"That's a cute outfit," Joyce said, ignoring her.
"I guess," Buffy said, shifting on her feet. The pants she wore were black and leather, and her white tank top just covered the belt that held them up. Her black leather jacket covered that, while her blonde hair rested on her shoulders. "I've worn it before and you never seemed to care."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Buffy said, as she followed her mother out the door.
~~**~~
(.:a/n:. If you haven't noticed, I tend to skip the little "rehearsals" if they even have those at beauty pageants, cause I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Why I'm even writing this story, who knows? . . . Maybe for the spuffyness)
Buffy found herself in the same place she had the night before. Standing by the door, staring out into the big world, while her mother talked to people who she didn't give a damn about. The only thing she was happy about was meeting Spike in an hour. 'Should I change?' she thought. 'No, you look fine in this.'
"Hey pet, we meet again," she heard the familiar British accent whisper in her ear. When she turned around, she fell forward slightly into his arms, brushing his lips and wanting more. So much more. "Not yet luv, but soon."
She watched as he walked out the doors, leaving her behind. But she didn't frown, quite the opposite. Because she knew he wasn't walking away from her, but waiting for her out there.