[Reviews - 485]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3291 times

- Text Size +




Uncomfortable Introduction

Buffy rolled onto her back and yawned. Her eyes popped open and she looked around. Yep, this was definitely her room however she definitely didn't remember making it to her bedroom. The last thing she remembered was Angel popping in ‘Spinal Tap' and then . . . nothing. She furrowed her brow. That meant either Spike or Angel had carried her to bed. Scratch that. Spike would have carried her to bed; Angel would have thrown a cover on her and left her on the couch. Now she felt disappointed. She didn't get to say goodbye to Spike or find out what he was up to that day.

She'd had so much fun the night before, and, she thought in wonderment,
she'd slept better than she had in long time. Apparently she really did need
Spike. Her body, able to relax for once told her that. She took pause at that
thought. If her body could tell her things like that, then her mind could too.
What Tara said rolled around in her mind as she crawled out of bed and
stretched. Using the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and
padded to the kitchen to make some coffee. A soft snore sounded from the
living room and she halted her movements. Setting down the coffee pot, she
peered into the living room and found Spike on the couch. Her heart soared
and warmed at the same time. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched
him. He was laying on his back, one arm across his stomach, another under
his head. She could see his bare feet poking out from under the blanket that
was falling off his body and his chest—oh my. His chest was bare. She took
in the creamy skin, the well defined abs, all the planes and—

"It's impolite to stare you know."

His voice jarred her out of her lustful daze and she jumped a near mile.
"You suck!" she hissed and marched off. The sound of Spike's soft chuckle
followed her and cheeks flaming, she filled up the coffee pot.

"Mad at me?" he asked as he stepped into the kitchen, ruffling his hair and
yawning.

She turned to him. How could she be mad at the sight he presented? All
sleep tousled and cute. She shook her head, "No, I'm not mad. You just
scared me is all."

"Making coffee?"

She nodded and poured the water in the maker and flipped on the switch.
"So you stayed last night. Did you carry me to my bed?"

He nodded, "I did. Fell asleep right quick, you did." He sat down at the
table and toyed with his pack of cigarettes.


She sat down across from him. "What made you stay?"

"Exhausted and had too much wine. Didn't feel like trying to find my way
home in the dark."

"You've been here a month now William," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Still."

She started to stand. "You want some breakfast? I was going to make
some scrambled eggs."

"How bout an omelet?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know how to make them."

"I'll teach you."

"Shouldn't you put a shirt on?" she asked, pointing at his bare chest.

He smirked, "Making you uneasy having to look at all this perfect flesh?"

Buffy started to laugh and Spike frowned. "Thanks, pet."

"Sorry. You just cracked me up. You're so full of yourself."

"Not all the time, it's a front."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yep. With you, I'm bloody unsure about everything."

"Don't be. You're fine, more than fine," she assured him, smiling.

He grinned. "More than fine you say?"

"Yep, and that's all I'm giving you. Get a shirt on so you don't burn
yourself."

"Bossy chit," he muttered as he made his way to the living room.

"Don't make me get the whip," she called after him.

He stopped in his tracks and spun, his eyes dark with lust. "Did you say
whip?"


She rolled her eyes, "Go get your shirt on, ya perv."





"What are you doing?"

Spike and Buffy turned to see Angel standing in the kitchen, yawning with
his hair in all directions. His robe thrown on, he looked much like the little
boy that used to bound into her room on Christmas morning and make her
get out of bed so they could pounce on their parents to open presents.

"William is teaching me to make omelets," Buffy answered him.

"You really are crazy," Angel said in disbelief to Spike. "You're teaching her
how to cook."

"Hey! I'm not that bad," Buffy retorted defensively. Spike watched the
exchange, amused.

"Don't let her fool you. She's that bad," Angel warned him.

"Well so far she's doing great. With my help of course."

Buffy swatted him, "Don't encourage him."


"Come here," Spike said, putting his hands on her hips and placing her in
front of him at the stove. "Take the spatula and turn it over to fold it."

The heat from his body against her back sent a shiver through Buffy.
Strange how that could happen. Every part of her was intensely aware of
him. Every part of her ached for him.

"Hello?"

Immediately, she froze. Then sprang away as if she'd been burned by the
skillet.

"Lindsey, what are you doing here?" she asked, turning to greet the man
standing in the doorway. She felt something coil through her. Uncertainty.
She felt immediately on guard. It wasn't because she felt guilty either for

feeling things for Spike, for reacting to his body against hers. Instead she
felt she had to protect Spike, had to make sure that Lindsey suspected
nothing.

"What's going on?" Lindsey asked his voice tight as he stared at Spike and
pushed his way in the door. The screen door slammed behind him and

Buffy jumped.

"I uh- we're uh, making breakfast. Omelets. William is teaching me to
make omelets. Can you believe it? I'm learning to cook. So in no time I'll be
able to cook for –what are you doing here? What brings you by?"

Angel placed a hand on her shoulder. "Buffy, breathe."

"I—I'm fine. I'm just going to—" she grabbed Lindsey's arm. "Let's go talk
outside."

She dragged him out of the kitchen, down the stairs and outside. She
hadn't been able to look at either Spike or Angel, didn't want them to know.
She felt ashamed of it, ashamed of herself and confused and . . . she didn't
know what was happening to her.

"Who was that Buffy?" Lindsey demanded as soon as they were outside.

"He's a friend of Angels."

"And why were his hands all over you?"

She looked up at him. Lindsey raised his hand and Buffy jumped a near
mile.


He stopped its path to his hair and stared at her. "What's gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you so nervous and jumpy?" His brow furrowed and he looked
completely confused.

"I—" she shook her head. "I'm not."

"You just jumped," he pointed at her.

She took a step back from him. "What do you want Lindsey?"

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. "I can't come and see my
girlfriend?"

"You can, I just didn't expect you. You should have called."

"Well, I didn't," he snapped.

"What do you want?" she snapped back.

His eyes narrowed. "Why are you so snappy with me?"

She gulped at the cold hard look in his eyes. She took a deep breath. "You
snapped first."

"Who is William?"

"A friend of Angel's," she blurted out. "He's gay."

Lindsey's expression softened immediately. "Oh. Well then, that changes
everything. Come out with me today."

"I can't." And I don't want to.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm spending the day with Angel."

"Then come out with me later."

"I'll call you," she told him. "Just call next time will you?"

He pursed his lips together. "Yes, dear," he said sarcastically. "So I'll see
you tonight then?"

She sighed, "Lindsey—"

"Please?" now he sounded gentle and soft again.

"I'll call you."

"Dress nice. I'll take you out."

He wasn't listening and she didn't feel like pressing it. Didn't feel he would
listen and she would win this round. Since when did a relationship become
about winning? She watched him drive off and felt a coldness settle over
her body like a blanket. What had driven her to tell Lindsey William was
gay?

‘He'd kill him,' the voice in her head said softly. ‘You have to protect
William,' it told her.





You must login (register) to review.