After a week of trying to contact Spike without any luck, Buffy was surprised when he walked into Joyce’s one afternoon. She studied him for a long while, noticing how nervous he seemed as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” she said quietly, happy when Willow and Anya walked into the back, leaving them alone.
“Hi, Buffy,” he replied, giving her a small smile. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine, and you?” she asked, leaning back against a counter. “I saw that you shut down Chantarelle’s.” He nodded, looking down. “Permanently?”
“I’ve decided to change the name,” he said. “Obviously, I don’t associate anything good with it anymore.” She nodded, understanding. “Once I figure out a new name, I’ll reopen it.”
“Good,” she replied. “I’d hate to see you close it forever. It’s a nice place.”
“I’m happy you feel that way,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Because I’d like to offer you a job there.” She felt her jaw drop as she let his words sink in. “I mean, I know you usually only work here during the day, so I thought maybe you’d like an evening job, too. It wouldn’t be every day- you could come in like three times a week. I’d love to have you be in charge of desserts.”
“I could make stuff here and deliver it there,” she replied, still stunned. “I wouldn’t need to actually work there.” He fought back the urge to frown, inwardly wanting to be around her as much as possible without having to admit that he was beginning to have feelings for her.
“I guess that’s true,” he said. “But wouldn’t it be nicer to have two incomes?” She smiled slightly and looked down.
“I’m really flattered by your offer, Spike, but I’m afraid I’d rather not take it,” she said. “I’ll gladly deliver cakes and what-not to your restaurant, but it’s probably best if I don’t work with you. Our personalities in the workplace would undoubtedly lead to volatile chaos.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he said, looking away and sighing. “Worth a try to ask, though.”
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I’m flattered,” she replied, looking at him. “It means a lot, coming from you.”
“Why? Because you and I couldn’t stand the sight of each other before the competition?” he joked, and she nodded, smiling. “Well, what’s done is done- you beat me, good and proper.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you scored more presentation points for your chocolate cake,” she said. “It was beautiful. I couldn’t believe men had made it, to be honest.”
“Are you insulting my masculinity?” he asked, frowning when she giggled. “I screwed up the cheesecake batter- if I would’ve had sufficient time to redo it and make a cheesecake, I would’ve kicked your ass, luv.”
“Yeah?” she asked, grinning. “Care to make a wager?”
“Gladly,” he said, leaning on the counter and locking eyes with her. “We’ll each make a cake and have our friends judge them, and if I win, you have to work for me.”
“Your terms are acceptable,” she replied, crossing her arms. “And if I win, you have to name the new restaurant after me.” He raised an eyebrow and studied her for a moment before extending his hand to her. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he said, smiling when she shook his hand. “Tonight, eight o’clock. Can your kitchen here handle both of us cooking?”
“Promise not to start a food-fight?” she asked, and he chuckled.
“Wouldn’t mind seeing you covered in whipped cream,” he said, laughing harder when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I promise to be a good boy.”
“Good,” she said. “Because if you don’t, I’ll pour chocolate all over you.”
“And lick it off?” he asked, biting his bottom lip to keep from smirking as he leered at her. She leaned on the counter, their mouths now inches apart.
“What if I did?” she teased suggestively, watching as he gulped. “Would that make you happy?”
“God yes,” he answered, his eyes widening when he realized what he had said. “Wait, no… You tricked me.”
“How?” she asked, still inwardly surprised by his answer.
“By batting those pretty eyelashes at me and sounding like a professional trollop,” he answered. She grabbed a cookie and chucked it at him, trying not to smile when he caught it and bit into it. “You know the key to my heart, Miss Summers.”
“Formalities will get you nowhere, my friend,” she said, smiling slightly.
“We’re friends now?” he asked, tilting his head and returning her smile.
“I drove your stubborn ass home last week and dealt with your advances- I’d say that makes us friends,” she answered.
“Well, that’s something,” he said, bowing his head slightly before going to the door. “Remember- eight o’clock.”
“Count on it,” she said, watching him open the door. “I can’t wait to kick your butt again.”
“Dream on, little girl,” he said, looking at her once more before leaving.
She watched him go before taking a deep breath and walking into the back part of the building, seeing Anya and Willow making truffles on a counter.
“How much of that did you hear?” Buffy asked curiously, not surprised to see them both look guilty. “Are you both willing to be here tonight?”
“And watch you win twice in two weeks?” Anya asked, smirking. “Of course.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Willow asked. “I mean, you could be working for Spike.”
“And I could have a restaurant named after me,” Buffy replied, shrugging. “Stay optimistic, Will.”
“I’m trying,” the redhead said. “But I’m also worried.”
“I’m not,” Buffy said, hopping up to sit on an adjacent counter. “Because another victory will be oh so sweet.”
‘There’s no way he’s going to beat me,’ she thought, clasping her hands together and smiling to herself.
* * * * *
After calling Xander and Andrew to invite them to Joyce’s for the mini-competition, Spike lay down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling, remembering the conversation he had with Buffy earlier, specifically the parts about whipped cream and chocolate.
‘Buffy completely nude, covered only in whipped cream,’ he thought, groaning as he unzipped his jeans and released his erection, one that had been present practically ever since he left Joyce’s. He began slowly stroking it as his mind conjured up images of Buffy spread out on a counter, writhing beneath him as he pumped inside of her. His hand wrapped around his cock as he began seeking a release, his actions becoming quicker as more images assaulted him.
“I’m going to make you want me, Buffy,” he ground out as he pictured her inner walls spasming around his manhood, in the throes of an orgasm. Spike’s hips bucked up more as he began coming from his actions, groaning as a sense of extreme satisfaction coursed through him. He continued panting, trying to catch his breath. “You’ll be mine before the week is over.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Due to the fact I'm swamped with work this week, I won't be updating again until Wednesday at the earliest. Sorry! I hope you continue to enjoy the fic, though!