[Reviews - 77]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4240 times

- Text Size +




CHAPTER 7 -- Kitchen Pt. 2

Author’s Note: Sorry for lack of update -- the floppy I had alllllllllllll my writings on went kaput. I had to rewrite all the ideas/chaps I hadn’t posted yet, so now I’m stuck playing catch-up. I would like to say thank you for the wonderful reads and reviews. They are greatly appreciated. Especially rockerbaby -- who caught my boo-boo of saying Jenny was Spike and Angel’s mom, then changing it to Anne (it is Anne) and my repeat of paragraphs -- Thank you! And thank yous go to professorgreenthumb who got my butt moving on the next chapters (Sorry this one’s so short)!

OH! -- Let’s pretend The Bronze is in Los Angles. (It’ll make for a hot chapter 8)

Buffy awoke to sounds of laughter floating up from the kitchen. The door to Angel’s bedroom was at the top of the stairs and he had left the door ajar. Buffy took a quick glance at the man next to her before slowly removing her covers and sliding off the bed. Angel slept on the complete opposite side than she, so the carefulness was pointless.

Padding down the stairs, the hysterics were not censored as Marge let out yet another distinctive chuckle. Whatever was going on in there had the entire group of women on the floor. Buffy hesitated for a moment -- sure, the kitchen gatherings were nightly, but she had not been officially invited. She had wandered into it last night but had no idea whether she was welcome tonight. Buffy stepped quietly towards the room, although not as cautious as before. Poking her head around the corner, Buffy did her best not to burst with laughter.

Sitting on the same stool as last night was Spike. He was surrounded by the women, all leaning over the counter, their concentration peppered with bit’s of laughter. Spike was entertaining them with his ability to balance various kitchen utensils on his nose. After mastering the wooden spoon, he attempted the egg beater thrust at him by Laura. After some initial trouble, Spike successfully kept the beater on his nose for four counted seconds before dismounting it to thunderous applause.

The women, who were facing the entrance way, saw Buffy first. Wide grins broke out on their faces and any reservations Buffy had were quickly dismissed. At the clapping’s abrupt stop, Spike turned to the doorway. He shared a smile with Buffy, knowing that she had caught him making a complete fool of himself.

“What about you, luv? You got any stupid human tricks?” The rest of the room smile at the challenge as Buffy leaned halfway into the room.

“I don’t know if I can beat that impressive balancing act, but . . . got any olives?” Buffy gamely slid into the stool next to him. Janet quickly supplied the black olives. The small crowd watched in fascination as Buffy carefully placed two olives on the back of her hand. Waiting a moment to make sure they would stay, Buffy held her hand out. She slapped her right hand down on the back of her wrist, propelling the olives into the air at an impressive altitude before catching one in her mouth, quickly jerking her head slightly to catch the second. She smiled at the applause that greeted her bar trick.

Buffy laughed and Marge caught the wistful look Spike was giving the young blonde. Her little William was in love. And with his brother’s girlfriend, no less. Would nothing ever come easy for the boy? Even though William loved to make his father and brother’s lives as difficult as possible, he didn’t have a bad bone in his body. He was born into a life of misfortunes: his father and brother didn’t understand him, his mother died, he was drawn into a destructive lifestyle by some gothic trollop, and now he was in love with an unavailable girl.

Marge sighed, “Okay girls, I think it’s time we retire.” He statement was met by a few good-natured pouts, but within minutes the kitchen was desolate except for Spike and Buffy.

They sat in uncomfortable silence. “So,” Spike started, “where’d you learn the parlor trick?”

Buffy smiled, playing with the olive jar, “Frat party.” She glanced at the wooden spoon Spike was twirling in his fingers. She motioned to it, “Do you learn how to do that or . . .”

“It’s a gift,” Spike nodded. The two laughed. “Some people are jugglers, some wiggle their ears . . . I can balance things on my face.” He paused, considering what he had just said, “God, that sounds pathetic.” Buffy giggled more, and Spike was instantly glad he had the ability. He would stand on his head and spin while juggling Cupie dolls if it made her smile.

He propped his head on his hand and watched her as she struggled to get herself under control. The remnants of a smile still on her face, she turned towards Spike. He leaned in towards her, his eyes on her lips. Buffy’s lips parted and her eyes began to close. But Spike stopped short.

“Come out with me and my friends tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“We go to this place called the Bronze.”

“I don’t think . . .”

“It’s karaoke night. There’ll be alcohol. You can’t possibly tell me you have something better to do than watch drunks sing.” He smiled and she made the mistake of looking into those eyes. “Meet me in the garage at eight o’clock.”

Buffy nodded, entranced, “Okay.” She gulped, suddenly painfully aware of how far she was willing to let this go. She realized that if Spike had tried to kiss her, she wouldn’t have stopped him. But would she be in the frame of mind to stop him if he tried again?

TBC





You must login (register) to review.