The warm sunlight streaming through her open window warmed her face, her hair emanating a soft glow. There was a reason, one she had yet to figure out in her state of drowsiness, that she was so completely comfortable. Especially in this house, its cold and eerie atmosphere enough to make her go temporarily insane, if it wasn’t for the intervals in time when she wasn’t there, but enjoying herself. At least to the extent that she allowed herself. Maybe it was the fact that she had gotten a few things of her mind from the confrontation earlier in the evening yesterday, with her new found…ally? Friend? Or maybe it was just the fact that her body was relieved of the stress it had been put under lately with the bruises and tension gone. For the time being.
She rolled over onto her stomach, her face now turned towards the window. That’s when she became aware of two interesting things as the fogginess in her brain started to wear off. One, the sunlight that had been completely covering her face as she lay on her back was only partially on her face now. Two, the thing that was blocking the rest of that sunlight was large and leaning against her side lightly. Although, in a strange way it seemed to comfort her. Opening her eyes slowly to let them adjust to the sudden brightness of the room as well as being awake, she brushed away the few strands of hair that had fallen onto her face and over her eyes when she had rolled over, getting rid of the obstruction of vision. The sight that she was met with both comforted her and then confused and scared her just for that fact that it was comforting.
Spike was lying on his side, facing her. His eyes closed mouth slightly ajar as he let out slow shallow breaths, his hair tousled from turning in his sleep all night, in an unfamiliar bed. Even thought his brain subconsciously knew this she couldn’t help but notice how relaxed and peaceful he seemed. Except for the few brief moments this morning, she didn’t remember the last time she had slept like that, when she was still in L.A, with Joyce? She wasn’t sure. Mesmerized in watching his sleeping form her eyes traveled over the contours of his face, the way it was more relaxed as he slept, a brief glimpse of how vulnerable he really was. Maybe that was partially what had comforted her, the fact that someone else was just as vulnerable as she was. Her gaze slowly traveled down to his mouth and then slowly to his chest, her breathing slowed, subconsciously moving along to his inhaling and exhaling. His chest slowly rising up and back down, his figure ever pronounced in the morning light. It was…hard to describe. But something about the scene made her feel content. That terrified her.
“Morning, pet.” The soft rumble of his chest causing her eyes to dart to his face, to his eyes. He was staring at her with an intense but still gentle gaze, eyes locked with hers.
She looked away for a second and pulled up the covers more to cover her overly exposed body, suddenly feeling self conscious and cursing herself for not wearing more to bed the night before. “Hi.” What now?
He seemed to sense her level of comfort slowly dispelling itself and answered the questions. Slowly getting out of bed he grabbed his shirt and boots, putting them on and uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck. A sign that he was nervous about something. “I’ll let you get dressed now pet. Do you think it’d be ok to wait for you downstairs, maybe make some breakfast or is you da’ still home?”
The blonde looked up slowly, turning her eyes to the door and back to his face, pondering the question. “I think its ok, I’m pretty sure he’s gone to work already, he usually leaves around six in the morning.” They both glanced at the bedside clock. Seven forty-eight. He nodded and turned to leave; walking out of the room he slowly closed the door leaving the room in a calm silence. She didn’t know what, or how. But something important had changed between them. Something….important.
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Spike walked down the stairs slowly, his feet barely making a sound as they touched the carpeted stairs. Even if her dad usually left earlier, he wasn’t going to take any chances. Shit happens. He cursed as he set his foot on the landing and the wooden floor underneath made a soft squeak. Bloody old houses. He looked at the spot beside the front door where he had noticed the first time he’d come there, that Hank’s briefcase and shoes had been resting. They weren’t there.
Now feeling more relieved he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Breakfast wasn’t necessarily his forte but he knew well enough how to cook, he had to feed himself somehow, especially if he was off to University next year. Old Rupes had taught him a few things here and there when he had thought Spike hadn’t been paying attention. Turning to the task ahead he looked at the contents in the fridge, noting that there were at least four bottles of different types of alcohol, one half empty. Frowning he chose to ignore it for the moment and pulled out some eggs and bacon, along with a few vegetables.
Searching through the drawers he let out a satisfactory ‘aha!’ when he came across the needed tools. Setting the frying pan on the heated burner he turned to the small radio in the middle of the kitchen island and turned the music up, cracking a few eggs into the pan and setting the back into a smaller one, watching as it started to sizzle. All distractions aside he started to think about the morning, waking up next the blonde currently showering upstairs. He wondered if she had felt it too, the contentedness that came with waking up next to the other. There was no need to talk, just lay there still. He was slightly surprised by that, the fact that neither one of them had felt the need nor urge to say something snarky or annoying to break to mood that had taken over the room. There was no banter exchanged. He had stayed up last night; he wasn’t sure how long he’d lost track of time. Just looking at her sleep, her stomach rising and falling under the blue silk sheets as she slept comfortably, when she had rolled towards him and even rested her head against his chest he had the urge to kiss her forehead tenderly, something he’d never admit to anyone. He was falling for Buffy Anne Summers. And nothing was going to stop it or slow it down. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to either.
The bacon spat some hot oil onto his arm angrily making him come back to his senses ad flip it again. Having turned off the burner for the omelets. “Mmm, smells great.”
He turned around smiling at her. Her shiny wet hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Pouty lips covered in a light layer of lip gloss, everything else left to look natural. He didn’t get that, how did she manage to eat without removing the lip gloss? “Living with Rupes you tend to pick up a few things weather he notices or not.” Pulling out some plates, after a few minutes of searching of course, he set the food out for both of them.
After a few moments of silence she looked up, the music still quietly playing. “Thanks.”
He turned to look at her, confused as to the sudden gratitude directed at him, what had he done? “What for, luv?” He watched as she pushed the food on her plate around a bit obviously trying to figure out how to explain what she had said, her forehead and nose slightly scrunched.
“For caring.”
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Yes I'm back to updating, now that I have all my ideas pretty much developed for this story I think I'll be updating until I finish the story, probably regularly. Please don't be impatient with the development of the spuffiness, I prefer to take my time, it makes it so much better later one :) Please review.