Made for fun, not for profit. The Buffyverse belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, I just like to play there. Please read and review! The more reviews I get, the quicker I'll update. Promise!

A/N: This chapter had a mind of its own, and I hope the twist near the middle which took me by surprise is a welcome addition to the story. Be advised, there's smut in this here chapter, but I don't think it should bump up the rating from 'T'. I blame the fics I've been reading for reminding me that biological urges are a thing. Yeah... *shifty eyes* that's the reason I'm goin' with…

"Love is giving someone the ability to destroy you,

But trusting them not to."

~ Anonymous

18 – William The Cuddly

Sam shut the door behind herself and her mouth pulled into a half smile as she came back towards the bed. "Sorry about running off like that. I just needed to… there were things I had to say and I didn't want Willow to leave before I said 'em." She shook her head, brow furrowing worriedly. "Does that make sense?"

Spike shrugged, affecting indifference. "Yeah, pet. I s'pose." She sat down, settling back in against the pillows and probably expecting him to put his head back in her lap, but instead he sat up and edged away from her enough that he could look her in the eye. He set his jaw and gave her a hard look. "Heard you birds talking."

She tensed. "How much did you hear?"

One of his hands reflexively curled into an angry fist under the covers, but he kept most of the hurt out of his voice. "Enough to know where I stand with Rupes and the boy… an' with you birds." He hated how vulnerable he felt, knowing that she was worried that the damned Scoobies might be right about him, not being able to just do something to prove himself to her, and as for telling her how much that doubt hurt him...

Hell, all this emotional sharing rubbish made him feel like a bundle of raw nerves. He'd almost rather be growling and swaggering, but he was pretty sure that was what Willow had meant when she mentioned 'dumb macho crap', so he decided to put his Big Bad attitude aside for the time being and resigned himself to getting used to talking about his feelings. He hadn't done that in a long time… not since Dru… or maybe earlier, really, back when he was first turned and Angelus had taught him the painful lessons of dominance, fear and control, molding him into the demon he'd become. That didn't seem to be the man that Sam cared about, though. Even though she hadn't shied away from his Big Bad persona when he'd tried it on her the other night, it was pretty clear that she liked him in spite of the 'macho crap', not because of it. Seemed like if he wanted Sam to be his for the long-haul, he'd have to forget, or at least ignore most of the rubbish Angelus had taught him, and try to be more like the man he'd been before ever meeting the giant ponce.

She let out a slow breath, looking relieved. "So you know that Willow has joined 'team Spike', even though she's worried."

He nodded tightly. "An' I know that you have doubts about this," he gestured vaguely between them with his other hand. "'bout us. Can't say as I'm thrilled to learn that, luv."

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, "Honey, I…" she reached for his hand and he reluctantly let her take it. He wanted to trust her, and she wanted to trust him, but that didn't mean it would be easy for either of them.

"You what Sam? I heard every bleedin' word." He closed his eyes, trying to tamp down his anger so he wouldn't lash out and say something he'd regret. His voice was just above a harsh whisper when he eventually said, "know where I stand with you, too."

She squeezed his hand. "Hey, look at me." He did, and was surprised to see that she was smiling at him. "You want the truth?"

Well, 'want' might be a tad strong for how he actually felt about it, but he needed to know, so he nodded.

"I like you, and I want you and I don't want to see you get hurt by anyone, me included." She dropped her gaze to the covers and went on in a slightly lower tone, "I also don't want to sign up to get my heart broken or my neck snapped."

He flinched at the visual. "Pet, even if I could hurt you, I wouldn't. Care about you too much for that an' I want you safe." His shoulders slumped against the pillows and he looked away with a frustrated sigh, half talking to himself, "Not that I'm the safest bloke to be around, seein' as I can't lift a bloody finger to defend myself or anyone else. Bleedin' useless excuse for a demon is what I am…" He shook off the self-pity and looked her right in the eye, suddenly determined, "but I won't let anythin' hurt you if I can help it."

She shook her head and gave him a faint smile. "Not what I meant, and didn't I already say that I can take care of myself?"

He sighed. Enough with the girl-power bit. Witch or not, he knew that she wasn't a match for a gang of hungry vamps trolling for a late-night snack, and without the Slayer or her mates about, she wouldn't stand a chance. Even if he grabbed her, picked her up and ran like hell, like she'd suggested, he still didn't like her chances. "Yeah, pet, you did, but…"

"Besides, can you honestly say that you don't have any doubts about us? About me maybe having an ulterior motive for being snuggly with you?"

He blinked at that but couldn't come up with a reply before she went on, "I'm sure you do, and I'm not taking it personal, so neither should you. We're just starting out, so of course there's gonna be some doubts until we know each other better. 'Till then…"

He nodded slightly and finished the thought for her, "leap of faith."

Her smile softened, and she nodded too. "Yeah. And, at least on my side of things, the doubts aren't 'cause of you being a vamp. I'm still just as worried about getting hurt as I'd be if you were some guy I met at a bar or in one of my classes, but you've been good to me so far and I think we've got a real shot at making this work."

He squeezed her hand and smiled. "I think so too, luv. So, what d'you have in mind for the wankers downstairs?" He flashed her a cheeky grin. "Camo? Hidin' behind furniture for a quick snog?"

Sam snorted a laugh, and when she gave him a gentle nudge, he realized that she had closed the distance between them so their shoulders were touching. "We're not gonna sneak around, we're just not gonna play tonsil hockey in front of the guys right off the bat. Give it a couple days, and then if they're still being hostile we'll figure out what to do."

He nodded. It was a smart plan, but the idea of needing to be not only coddled but protected by his girl still stung, and he didn't bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. "You're afraid they'll stake me."

She quirked an eyebrow and gave him a look that all but screamed 'duh'. "Based on how Giles reacted to seeing us asleep together the other night, can you blame me?"

He let his head rest against her and relaxed in spite of himself when she slipped an arm around him and started gently rubbing his shoulders. "S'pose not, pet. Can't say I'm thrilled 'bout this, though. Bein' your dirty little secret."

She chuckled at that, and he felt as though he'd been slapped. The vibrations of her laughter traveled over his scalp, mocking him, and he started to pull away from her, but she wouldn't have it. The arm resting across his shoulders tugged him closer and Sam dropped a kiss into his hair. "If you were thrilled I'd be seriously worried. And you aren't dirty or secret. We're just going to be discreet for a while so Xander and Giles don't gang up on me or try to hurt you." He relaxed into her again, reassured. Sam let out a tired sigh and leaned closer, kissing the corner of his mouth and then murmuring into his skin, "sneaking around isn't my idea of fun either, and it's really not my style, but I want to keep you safe and avoid another shouting match if its even possible, cuz I don't have the words for how much I hate fighting with people I care about. That includes you and the Scoobies, so please try to play nice with them? For me?" She tilted her head and deepened the kiss before he could answer.

He nodded his agreement and sank himself into the soft warmth of the kiss, smiling and slipping his tongue into her mouth. Issues of trust and who was protecting whom were firmly pushed to the back of his mind as the kiss deepened… and then he cursed his luck when Spike Jr. suddenly came to attention. Bloody perfect. Sam had been clear about wanting to go slow, so he knew that she probably wasn't up to bringing him off, either with her hands or otherwise. He shifted the covers enough to hide the growing bulge. Much as he wanted her hands on him, he'd promised not to rush her, and he wasn't daft enough to press the issue. It had been quite a while since he'd been so happy, tangled up in bed and snogging his girl senseless, so he focused on how much he was enjoying himself and pointedly ignored his body's insistences.

The kiss went on until Sam broke away, breathing heavily and smiling at him. She trailed her hand over his chest with a happy sigh. "You… that… yeah. Brain-scrambling kisses. Lets have more of those."

He grinned proudly, kissing down her neck as she tried to get her breath back. "Love kissing you, pet, but we'll keep it behind closed doors for now."

"Good. Mmhmh." She twined her fingers through his unruly hair, the touch warm and affectionate as he continued moving south, over her chest and down her side. If they kept kissing like they had been a minute ago, he was almost certain that he would abandon any noble intentions and try to get into her knickers. If, however, he stopped the kissing and just lay with her in the bed for a while, he knew that the problem would abate before too long.

She made an appreciative sound and wrapped her legs around him when he gently nipped at the underside of one of her breasts. "Just to be crystal about this, I'm not giving you up, mister, no matter what judgmental crap the guys might pull. You're mine. My William, my Spike, my whoever the hell you are, and no one is going to change that."

He beamed at that and settled in again when he reached her lower belly. "Bloody right I am. I'm not goin' anywhere, luv." Instead of trying for third base, he let his head rest on her leg again and kissed the inside of her thigh. He could show restraint, and he would. Spike Jr. would just have to wait its bloody turn. After being ignored for a while it would eventually get the hint. "You're mine, too, and those wankers don't get a say in it."

"Damn straight. So, do you wanna sleep some more, now that we've hashed out where we stand and we've got some time alone?" She lightly scratched his scalp with her fingernails and he shivered, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a moan and squirming just a bit under the sheets. Bloody hell, she certainly wasn't making matters any easier.

He shook his head against her stomach, moving his hips just enough so that the fabric of his borrowed sleep pants and the weight of the covers rubbed against him pleasantly. "Got other things on my mind 'sides sleep right now, ducks. That last kiss started a bit more'n you prolly meant to," he gestured at his waist and shrugged, feeling oddly shy, "but you've been clear 'bout not bein' ready, so I'll just wait for it to, uhh… subside."

She tensed a little and her fingers froze mid-motion when she leaned awkwardly to get a better look at him and saw the conspicuous lump in the covers. "Oh, you mean you're…" Surprise was clear in her voice.

He grimaced, not in embarrassment, but from equal parts discomfort and wondering how she would react to this new development. "Yeah..." He'd told her so she wouldn't find out by accident and feel awkward or pressured to pleasure him. It wasn't going as well as he'd hoped.

"Well," she sighed and frowned down at the lumpy covers, shaking her head. "I'm still not really ready to do much more than kissing, but if you want to… take care of yourself, go right ahead." She leaned away and rummaged around on her bedside table until she came up with a small packet of tissues, and then opened the drawer and pulled out a cloth handkerchief. She set them both down in front of the lamp and shrugged. "For clean-up, after."

He looked up at her in surprise, even as one of his hands slipped under the covers and started drifting towards the waistband of his pants. "You sure, pet?" Before he'd even finished asking the question, he had already begun untying the drawstring of his trousers. It seemed like his hands were just as eager as Spike Jr. was for some action.

She gave a shy smile and nodded after minute. "I'm sure. If you're feeling up for it then I figure why not?" She kissed him and tapped a finger on the end of his nose. "I want you to feel good, so yeah. Plus, I want to see what you've got down there. My clothes stay on, though." Her smile turned wicked and she slipped one hand under his shirt. "I'll even help. Just tell me what you like." She started gently scratching his chest, carefully skirting around the bandages she had taped to his arrow wounds, and he let a quiet moan slip out when her nails dragged over one of his nipples.

"That... ohh, feels good pet." He grabbed himself and stroked. It had been a while, but he knew the rhythm he liked, and now instead of being frustrating, Sam's warm hands and soft kisses were helping him along.

He sat up slightly, turning so his back was leaning against her stomach, and she slid down in the bed until his head was pillowed on her chest. She kicked the covers down so that the blanket and sheet were tangled around his knees and her feet, and well out of the way. "Hold on…" She leaned away for a moment and opened the drawer of one of the bedside tables, rooting around for a minute before pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid. "Here, this should help a bit." She flipped open the cap with her thumb and nodded at his busy hand. "Gimme your hand?"

He recognized the brand name on the bottle and smiled, withdrawing the hand in question and holding it out so Sam could squirt a bit of the lube into his cupped palm. "Thanks, luv."

The lube felt cool and slippery as he spread it over himself and started the rhythm up again, groaning just a little bit as he leaned back and started to thoroughly enjoy what was happening. Sam had closed the bottle and put it aside, and now she was stroking his chest again. His left hand moved just a bit faster and his right arm snaked around Sam's right thigh, pulling it closer with a possessive growl.

"What else do you like?" Her warm breath tickled his ear, and the hand on his chest stopped moving. He whined low in his throat when the light touches stopped and let his head fall back against her, eager for more contact, but she didn't react. Spike pressed himself back into her chest, held her leg a bit tighter and looked up at her with a whimpered "please," but instead of resuming the gentle scratches, she withdrew her hands altogether. He whimpered again, but she just shook her head sternly. When she replied, her voice had taken on a hard edge. "I said, what else?"

Right, she wanted to know what he liked, what would bring him off. This was new. Best he could recall, none of his partners had ever asked him that, and aside from a few quirks he'd found out by accident, he didn't rightly know what would get his engine revving... aside from the obvious, and she was leaving that bit up to him. "Uhh, earlier, when you were playin' with my hair an' scratchin' just a bit…"

One of her hands moved up to his head and started lightly scratching at the nape of his neck. "Like this?"

His head lolled to one side and his eyes slid shut as he tightened his grip and moved his hand faster, groaning out, "Yeah, pet." It wasn't the touches themselves that he liked so much, it was what they meant; that she was happy to pamper him.

She kissed down the side of his neck, alternating between nibbling and sucking as she moved from just behind his ear to the sensitive skin under his jaw. His toes curled as her blunt teeth and warm lips worked at him, worrying at his neck like it was a BBQ spare rib, and his unnecessary breathing sped up. He squirmed and let out a low groan, hoping she would understand that the sound meant he was enjoying being nibbled on, since his blood was flowing away from his brain and that made speech too difficult to bother with. He gasped when she nuzzled and lightly sucked at the faint scar of his siring mark.

"What else?" Her voice was low and throaty but full of authority, and that seemed to help, too.

Right. Words. He tried to think and after flipping him a two-finger salute, his brain eventually cooperated. "Hands… my chest…"

She kept one hand on his head and let the other go back under his shirt, curling her fingers so her nails scratched across his chest, pressing hard one moment and then barely grazing his skin the next. She trailed a circle around one nipple and then suddenly tweaked it, and he bucked his hips, growling in happy surprise, "Christ, pet. That, again… I'm almost…"

She brought her other hand down to his chest and started running them in opposite directions, one moving down to his belly while the other traveled over his chest. She varied the pressure of her fingernails, dragging them across his upper chest with enough force to leave marks, then tickling them lightly across his lower belly and drumming her fingertips down his side, massaging the muscles just below his ribs. His back was warm from leaning against her, her heartbeat was loud in his ears, and he caught an unmistakable whiff which let him know that she was enjoying herself, too. He was starting to lose track of what was where, and just concentrated on the sensations of her warm palms and blunt fingernails trailing gooseflesh over his skin. He'd almost forgotten about her mouth, but his attention was dragged back to it when she started suckling on his earlobe. His eyes rolled back and he moaned, "God, luv… so good…" His hips bucked again and then she bit down on his ear, not quite hard enough to draw blood, and followed it up by tweaking both of his nipples hard at the same time.

That did it. He came undone with a low growl, his hips arched off of the mattress and he felt a wet patch spreading over the front of his pants, then he slumped back against her, eyes half-closed, smiling and twitching slightly as he panted.

She kissed his ear and then wrapped both of her arms around him, hooking her chin over his shoulder. "How was that, mister?"

He lay in her arms, dazed and trying to remember the Queen's English. It took a bit longer than he expected. "Bloody hell. You… that was brilliant." He kissed the nearest part of her that he could reach – it happened to be her upper arm – and let his eyes slide shut, content to just let himself drift in the afterglow. "Thank you, Sam. I didn't… wasn't expecting that, but it was bleedin' marvelous. Couldn't ask for better."

"Glad I could help, sweetie." Sam was running one hand up and down the length of his left arm, and he smiled at the loving touch. This was… hell, he might as well say it, this was damn near perfect. There was a smile in her voice the next time she spoke. "You made some great sounds… I can't wait to coax more of 'em out of you." She kissed his neck, resuming a more gentle version of the nibbling she'd been doing earlier, and his face stretched in a loopy grin. This was perfect.

As the warm feeling of euphoria started to fade, he remembered that he was still holding on to his todger. He slowly withdrew his hand from his pants and frowned at how sticky his fingers were. That wouldn't do. He wasn't about to touch her without washing up first.

"Well, now I know some of what you like, so that's a start. Here," she handed him what he'd thought was a packet of tissues, and he saw that it was actually a small package of wet-wipes. "And just so you know, the neck thing is something I really like, so if you want a non-bitey nibble the next time we're fooling around, I'm all for it."

He smiled and nodded at her as he started wiping off his hand. "Good to know, luv, but I wouldn't mind sussin' out some of your kinks for m'self. Takes some of the joy out if you just give me a list of 'dos' and 'don'ts' right off the bat."

She nodded against him, and he thought that her cheek seemed slightly warmer than it had a moment before. "Fair enough. If you want to know about kinks, though…"

He craned to look at her as she trailed off, and he saw that she was blushing. "Summat you want to tell me, luv?"

She lightly bit her lip and shot a quick glance towards the closet, nodding self-consciously. "I have a bag. Of stuff. Look through it later and see if anything in there strikes your fancy."

"Stuff? What sort of 'stuff' we talkin' bout?" He had a vague idea of what sort of things might be in the bag, and some hopes about its contents, of course, but he really asked because she blushed so prettily.

The color in her cheeks got a bit darker and she dropped her gaze to the rumpled covers. "Well… you'll just have to find out."

He grinned and caught her in a quick, deep kiss. "Full of surprises, aren't you?"

She smiled and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear with one hand. "I like to think so."

By then, he'd finished cleaning his todger and bits and had just started wiping up his hand, but as soon as he let go of the waistband of his sleep pants, the slimy fabric stuck to him again and undid a good deal of the tidying up. His shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed little breath. He didn't mind for himself, but he suspected that Sam wouldn't want to get sticky while they were cuddling, and he didn't want to give her any reason to pull away. "Might be needin' some new trousers as well. This lot's gonna need a bit of a wash."

She peered down at the wet stain and nodded against his shoulder. "Thought of that. After you've cleaned up, I'll grab you a fresh set. There were a couple things I got for you when I was out shopping that I didn't show you when Willow was here."

He glanced up from dabbing the wet-wipe at his belly and narrowed his eyes at her. "Is that right? These things I'll like, or is it brocade?"

She grinned at him. "You're gonna like 'em. Wanna see?"

He made a low, unhappy noise and leaned back into her arms, lightly grabbing hold of them to keep her close when she made to get up. "Not just now, pet. Want you to stay right where you are for a while." He didn't use anywhere near his full strength, since he didn't want to hurt her, but he held on tightly enough that she would have to wriggle quite a bit if she wanted to slip out of his hands.

"Okay, sweetie." She nodded against him and kissed just below his ear, tightening her hug a little, and he felt himself relax slightly. "I'm all for a good cuddle, but you should clean up before too long so none of the mess gets crusty, and then I'd like you to get out of those pants – "

He snickered, "Ohh, you would, would you?"

She pinched his ear, and not in a fun way, finishing what she had been saying, "…and into a clean pair. The one's you're wearing are gonna be the start of my next dirty laundry pile."

He smirked, turning his head enough to give her a teasing look out of the corner of his eye. "That the only reason?"

She smiled against his neck. "Nope."

Spike turned slightly in her embrace and slipped his arms around her waist, chuckling. "Naughty girl." He rested his head on the soft curve of her breast and pressed a reverent kiss to her décolletage.

"Hey, wanting to see my guy's junk isn't naughty." Her expression turned pensive. "Hmm. I dunno if 'guy' sounds right. 'Boyfriend' is too sophomoric, 'fella' is too 1960s… 'lover' has some potential, but it sounds illicit somehow and we aren't doing anything wrong, so I guess that one is out too." She shook her head, looking down at him in confusion. "What are you? None of those fit."

Spike shrugged, languidly nuzzling at her chest. "I've never been comfortable with labels, luv. Can't I just be me?"

Sam was muttering to herself and he wasn't sure if she'd even heard him, "how about 'beau'? I think that works." She tapped his shoulder and smiled when he looked up at her. "Just for simplicity sake, how about if I call you my beau? It's less of a mouthful than guy-I-care-about-and-am-attracted-to-and-will-probably-be-sleeping-with-soon."

He tipped his head slightly to look up at her and gave her a cheeky grin. "Dunno pet, I think I like the longer title."

She gave him a look which was the first cousin-once-removed from a death-glare. "I'm serious, Spike. For when I introduce you to people, like family and friends, can I call you my beau?"

He sighed and nodded tiredly. Fooling around had done a marvelous job of helping him to relax, and now all he wanted was to get some shuteye, not argue over something so trivial, so he acquiesced. "S'pose so, pet. An' what should I call you, then? 'Darling', or maybe 'sweetheart'?"

She frowned, apparently thinking it over, then nodded slightly. "Well, 'darling' is more of an endearment than a title, but 'Sweetheart' works for both."

He tightened his arms around her waist, looking up at her steadily. "You're my girl, Sam, and I'm your whatever-the-hell-you-want-to-call-me."

She rolled her eyes with a rueful smile. "That works for me. I'm your girl, and you're my William."

He felt himself grinning at that. "Sounds perfect, luv." For some reason, he wasn't quite sure why, hearing her use his given name made him extremely happy. Of course, the fact that she was agreeing to be his girl didn't hurt, either.

Sam ducked her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "How about you change out of those pants now? We can go right back to cuddling once you're wearing clean ones."

He let his head fall forward so his nose was pressing against her collarbone. Her stubbornness was both amusing and infuriating. "Pet…" He was embarrassed that the word came out as part growl, part whine. She was so warm, and aside from the slight stickiness of his trousers, he was very comfortable in the bed and nowhere near ready to get up yet. He just wanted to lie there with her and fall asleep listening to the sound of her heartbeat. It had been lovely the other night, just sitting with her on Watcher's couch, drifting off to sleep cuddled up under a blanket and knowing that she wanted him and cared for him. He knew that was the sentimental, long-dead poet part of himself, but since Sam seemed to be fond, or at least tolerant of his William side, he decided to let it have free rein for a while. His arms tightened around her and he murmured into her skin, "Pet, can't we just lie here for a while?"

He wanted the perfect, or near-perfect moment they were sharing to never end, to never go sour. He wanted to lie tangled up with her in the bed, sated and drowsy, for as long as possible. She was his, and he wanted to savor that for a while. It was irrational, he knew that, but he had a sinking feeling that if she pulled away, if she left his embrace too soon, that the moment would be shattered and he would never feel as content again.

He had no idea how she managed it, seeing as his arms were around her waist, but she slipped out of his grasp and got up from the bed before he could really react, and then she stood by the bed, smiling down at him. "See, now I've made the choice for you. No more cuddles 'till you do as I ask."

Spike looked up at her and tried not to let his hurt or anger show. She was only trying to do what she thought was best, and although she was pushy, it was clear from her playful tone that she hadn't meant any harm. He grumbled as he sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed, trying – and failing – to twist his disappointed scowl into a wry smile. "Bossy little thing, aren't you?"

Sam's smile didn't waver. In fact, it got wider. "Well, yeah, but I think we both know that you like it. Name calling isn't gonna get you anywhere, mister, so stop stalling and get to it."

Cripes, but she had him pegged, and she clearly knew how to get him to jump through her damned hoops. It was humiliating and frustrating and… he didn't mind it nearly as much as he knew he should. It was a playful struggle for which of them would have the upper hand… and he knew that she had won. Moreover, he realized that he didn't care. She was his, he was hers, and that was all that mattered to him. The rest was detail. He shook his head and quirked a questioning eyebrow at her as his hands moved to the still undone drawstring of his sleep pants. "This mornin' you said you weren't ready for, what was it? The 'Spike full monty'? 'S only been a few hours since you said that, luv. What's changed?"

She shrugged matter-of-fact-ly, "I got over it," then gave him a cheeky grin and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now strip." Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and more than a little prurient curiosity.

He let his hands rest on his thighs and gazed up at her with a tired sigh. "Lemme see these trousers first, luv."

Her mouth fell into a pout, but after a moment she nodded. "Fair enough." She headed towards the smaller laundry bag, which was still sitting by the dresser, opened the drawstring at the top of the bag and started digging around among the clean clothes. There wasn't much light in the room, what with the drapes being shut, and the only illumination came from a bedside lamp which was too far away from the dresser to really be much use. She stood up and flicked on the light switch by the hall door, then resumed digging.

"Do you want to put on one of the new shirts?" Sam didn't look up when she spoke, and even though he knew she wouldn't see it, he still shook his head. "Dunno, luv. Rather not look like a walkin' rummage sale."

She let out an annoyed huff, scowling at the mound of clothing before resuming her search. "You wont. Jeez. Don't you trust my taste? Was any of the stuff I picked out for you tacky or crappy?"

He couldn't resist teasing her just a bit. "Jury's still out on the pants, luv, but as for the rest, it all seemed fine. Glad you stuck with dark colors. Guessin' you like blue?"

She nodded. "Blue and green are my favorite colors. And dark red, too. They're also what I look best in."

He filed that info away. Might want to get her something pretty, after all, and he'd rather it be something that was to her taste so she would actually want to wear it. "Only togs m' not sure about are those jeans. Bit too light for my taste. How did you know I like the Ramones?"

She threw him a smile. "You were humming one of their songs earlier, and I hoped that meant you like them."

He frowned to himself, watching her go back to hunting around in the bag. "It'd prob'ly be much easier if you just emptied that lot out onto the bed an' sifted through it there."

"You probably… should have said that… a minute ago." She tugged something out of the bag and stood up with a triumphant grin. "Got it. Don't know why I didn't put it with the other thrift-store stuff, but it got mixed in with the rest of my clothes." She stepped back to the bed and handed over a small shiny bundle of fabric. "I'm not sure, but I think they're satin. Really doubt that someone would give real silk pants to a thrift store."

He held up the pants, letting them un-crumple, and saw that they were medium gray with an elastic waistband.

"Well?" She was looking at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict on the clothes.

He played the cloth between his fingers and nodded slightly. "They look fine, pet."

She grinned and nodded towards his waist. "Well, only one way to find out if they fit."

Considering how silky the pants felt and how scratchy his gray hand-me-down shirt was, he tugged the shirt off and let it slide to the floor.

Sam made a petulant sound. "Why did you take the shirt off? You know I don't want to see the…" she trailed off, drawing a Y-shape in the air with one hand, "until it's healed."

He blinked, confused. "Thought you didn't mind it? What happened to 'Arrow-holes and partially-healed incisions notwithstanding, it's still a nice view.'?" He'd slipped into an awful American accent which came out sounding part Texan and part brain-damaged for the last bit, and he shook his head a tiny bit, hoping that she hadn't paid it much mind.

She made a helpless sort of noise and gave him a pleading look. "I just can't… please?"

He shook his head. Damn unpredictable females. "Fine then. Can you find my black shirt?"

She dug in the clothes for a few moments and then handed over his soft black t-shirt, almost shoving the small bundle of cotton at his chest as she grumbled, "Now will you try the pants on?"

He rolled his eyes, tugged on the perforated shirt and stood up, peeling out of the soiled pyjama pants as he went and letting the striped fabric fall to pool around his ankles. He stepped out of the pants, nudging them to one side with his foot before looking up again. His hands twitched and he fidgeted a little, nervously waiting for her reaction.

He shouldn't have worried.

Her gaze traveled downwards and her eyes went wide. "Wow," she breathed finally. "There's… there's quite a lot of you, isn't there?"

Spike beamed with masculine pride, preening a bit. Even though Angelus was taller, he'd always known he was bigger than the poof where it mattered. "S'pose there is, ducks."

She shook her head, her eyes riveted to his todger. "That's… well, that's just daunting." She gulped. "Ohhh boy. You should really put that thing away before my eyes fall out of my head."

He decided to take pity on her and started tugging on the gray pyjamas. The fabric felt smooth, almost liquid as he pulled it up over his knees, and he realized that it was real silk, not satin as Sam had thought. The waistband settled an inch or so below his navel once they were on, and the pants fit comfortably enough, but they weren't something he would have picked to wear. He had no problem going starkers, preferred it most of the time, actually, but since he had to wear something, these weren't a bad choice. Not by a long shot. They weren't near as poncy as the cast-offs he'd gotten from Rupes, and he certainly liked the feel of them. Also, the fact that they were from Sam, and she had picked them out specifically for him made them just a bit special. When he raised his eyes and saw the look on Sam's face, he couldn't help smiling.

She had managed to compose herself once he started putting on the new pyjama pants, but now her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and her lips parted ever so slightly as she let out a whispered 'damn…' The look she was giving him now was one of undisguised, hungry lust, and damn if he didn't love it. It was a simple thing, really, something of a primal reaction, but knowing that he pleased her physically gave him a feeling of pride.

Sam turned around for a moment and crouched down to dig something else out of her laundry. "Here. Put this on, too. It'll help me think… cuz with you in those… and looking like…" She turned to face him again and closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then scowled a little at her feet.

He chuckled, enjoying how flustered she was. "Problem, luv?"

She shook her head and quickly glanced up at him. "You are much too yummy for me to think straight, and I'm still not ready for more than kissing and groping, but my body is getting other ideas and it's annoying. Put this on."

She handed over a faded black terry robe which was fraying a bit in places but didn't seem to have any holes in it and was still pleasantly fuzzy. He smiled, running his fingers over the fabric. Seemed like Sam preferred fabrics that were in the soft, silky or fuzzy family, at least for sleeping or lounging in. He shrugged the robe on, pleased to find that the thick garment fit. It fell to mid calf and had a nice wide belt, which he loosely tied around his waist. He considered asking her about her fabric choice, but felt that he knew why she was choosing to dress him in them. He smiled to himself. Hell with it. He wanted to know if his hunch was right.

"Pet, there any reason you've chosen these for me to wear?"

She grinned and bobbed her head in a quick nod. "All the better to cuddle with, my dear."

He snorted. "Does that make me Goldilocks?"

She stepped closer and shook her head. "I think you mean Little Red Riding Hood, and after what I've just seen, I know for damn sure that you're not a little girl."

Spike grinned and sat back on the bed, lounging against the pillows and waggling his eyebrows at her. "Got that right, luv. I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

She chuckled, sitting down next to him and rolling her eyes when he snuggled up to her side. She gave a small chuckle and muttered in a sarcastic tone, "Ohh yeah. Mister scary. That's you." She shook her head, winding her arms around him, and grinning when he happily rested his head on her chest. "You, my friend, are a cuddlebug."

He sat up straight against the pillows and growled slightly. "Oi! I'll have you know that I'm plenty scary, an' I'm not a bleedin' 'cuddlebug'."

She rolled her eyes again and slipped her arm through his, tugging him close to her side. "Yes you are, William. You're my cuddlebug." She kissed his cheek, and he felt his Big Bad resolve wavering. "I don't cuddle things or people that scare me, so you might wanna be careful about how adamant you are with the 'grr, look at me, I'm so bad' shtick."

"Fair enough, pet."

Hell, it was far from the worst nickname he'd ever had. Harm's voice floated back to him, calling him 'Spikey' and 'Blondie Bear' in front of his minions. He shuddered at the memory. It really was a shame that she'd been wearing the Gem of Amara when he staked her. Damned bint was beyond annoying.

A crinkling sound drew his attention, and he saw that Sam had pulled a plastic bag out of the shopping bag from the thrift store and was nervously turning it in her hands. He nodded at it. "What's that?"

She glanced up at him. "I stopped by the drugstore and got a few things. Since you weren't crazy about the striped pants, I got some black fabric dye. We could also do the jeans at the same time. They probably won't come out as dark as your old ones, but it should be an improvement. We should be able to dye 'em in the sink or a big bowl or something. Also," she held up a small bottle of nail polish. "In case you want to give yourself a fresh coat."

He felt himself smiling at the thoughtfulness and managed, "much obliged, pet."

"I also, uhh…" She seemed nervous, but for the unlife of him, he had no idea why.

"What is it, pet?"

She bit her lip and then held out a small cardboard box which had a picture of a smiling woman on the front of it. Puzzled, he turned the box in his hands. "What's this for?" He looked more closely at the box. Read it, and frowned. It was hair dye.

Women's hair dye.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What happened to you being sure that I'm a bloke?"

She gave him a half-hearted smile and shrugged. "There are only three or four shades of men's hair dye. Total. And none of em matched your natural shade, so – "

"How do you know what my real hair color is?"

She blushed, then dropped her gaze to the covers and let out a rushed, quiet mumble. He only caught the words 'shower' 'morning' and 'armpit hair' before he made sense of the rest of the jumble. "… and I figured that, well, you might dye your eyebrows dark and bleach your hair, but, well, the old saying about the carpet matching the drapes, so, yeah… I got the light brown dye. Actually, it's more of a sandy, reddish brown." She dragged her eyes up to meet his again. "Was I right?"

He shook his head, still turning the box in his hands. "Yeah, pet, but why did you.. . I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the clothes an' all, but why'd you get this?"

"Look, the clothes were cuz you needed 'em, but, I mean…" she sighed and met his eyes for the first time since she'd taken out the box. "Your hair is very distinctive, makes you easy to pick out in a crowd, so if you wanna leave this apartment at all… and, I mean, since you escaped it's a safe bet that the commando guys are still looking for you, it would really help to set my mind at ease if you looked less conspicuous." She laced their fingers together and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "The last thing I want is for those jackasses to grab you again. Will you do this for me? Please?"

He smiled in spite of himself. She was a bloody control freak, but he had to hand it to her, she thought of everything, and she was so determined to keep him from harm. It felt… nice, being cared about like that, and besides, he'd had the bleached look for over two decades. It was well past time for a change.

"Sure, pet. If it'll stop you frettin'. 'Sides, if I can get a nice bit of scalp scratches out of it, it might even be worthwhile."

She made a happy noise and snuggled into his side. "Sounds like a plan. How about we do that tomorrow? I'm gonna be doing spell work for most of the day, but I'll take a few breaks for food… and for you, obviously." She reached up one hand to play through his hair. "Can't wait to see what you look like with curly brown hair."

He growled slightly, thinking about nancy-boy William. Christ, he hadn't really agreed to look like that again, had he? "I don't have curly hair." At least he didn't have the spectacles anymore, or the cravat...

Sam chuckled and pressed a kiss to his eyebrow, one hand slipping under the covers to play with the edge of his shirt while the other gently scritched at his scalp. "How can I convince you that the curls are sexy?" She kissed just behind his ear, and his eyes drifted shut. "Hmm?"

He cuddled closer to her under the covers, enjoying her attentions. "Fine, pet. We'll dye my sodding curls tomorrow."

"Thank you, sweetie."

Spike Jr. twitched when she nibbled at his earlobe and started stroking him through the pants. He opened one eye and blinked up at her. "Better not start summat you can't finish, ducks."

She raised one eloquent eyebrow and smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." She moved her hand up towards his belly, playing her fingers over the cotton of his shirt. Her touches became slower and less sensual, kisses and nibbles giving way to slow strokes up and down his side. "Think you can sleep now?"

He nodded, languidly stretching before settling against her and the pillows. "Mm-hmm." His new sleep pants felt delicious against his skin whenever he moved, so he shifted a bit, just enjoying the luxurious feel of the cloth against every inch of his flesh.

Sam tugged the covers up over his shoulder and gave him a soft kiss. "Then sleep, silly. I'll be right here." Her fingers twined in his hair, rubbing circles over his scalp as she gently pet his side with her other hand.

He felt around until he found her free hand and then he laced their fingers together. "Sam?"

The hand in his hair paused mid-motion. "Yeah?"

He nuzzled his face into the crease of her hip, feeling happier than he'd been in a good long while; before the soldiers or Harm or South America or even the sodding wheelchair. Maybe even before that mob in Prague got a hold of Dru. "That really was brilliant, luv, with your hands an' all when I was havin' it off… so when you're ready I'll be more'n happy to… return the favor."

She chuckled. "When I'm ready, you're gonna be doing most of the work, buster. I don't like having a sore wrist. Plus, it takes me a while to get there, no matter how talented a… cunning linguist I happen to be with, so be ready to set aside a good chunk of time."

He grinned up at her and nodded. "You got it, pet. Whatever you want, an' however long it takes." He settled his head on her lap again and slung his arm across her legs. He meant it, too. Whatever she wanted, he'd do. New clothes, new hair… those were small concessions considering what he was getting in return. Besides, he'd never cared all that much about his appearance, and she hadn't suggested anything ridiculous. Yet, anyway. He had his limits, but so far she wasn't pushing the envelope.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Right now I want my tired and semi-debauched vampire to get some sleep so he'll heal faster and feel more like himself."

He tightened his arm around her and nestled as close to her side as he could get without actually climbing into her lap. "Sounds like a plan." He had no idea what he'd done to deserve someone who treated him so well, but he damn sure wasn't going to do anything to bollocks this up.

TBC

A/N: James Marsters wore the gray silk pants in question on the show 'Andromeda', in season 2, episode 9 'Into The Labyrinth'. Here is a link to a gif of him wearing them. Because FF doesn't let actual links be posted in stories, you will need to do more than just copy-paste, but it is well-worth the extra tippy-tapping. Seriously. Prepare to drool.

(slash) blog (slash) 2015 (slash) 05 (slash) 04 (slash) marsters-monday-charlemagne-bolivar-andromeda (slash)