Any potential awkwardness about sleeping in the same bed with Gunn had dissipated when Buffy, annoyed with the fact that he had made the room messy a mere two hours into their living in it, tore off her shirt, threw it at his head, and declared there was no way he was getting any tonight.
They had instantly bonded when they’d met, forming an intense friendship. Buffy was one of the few women in training for special projects, while Gunn hadn’t clicked with any of the other students due to his lack of formal education and propensity for using his fists to solve problems. One drunken night they’d shared a kiss, pulled away, made faces of disgust and declared that they would never, ever have sex, and had never even neared romance again.
Yet, they easily played the parts of a couple in love, due to their familiarity and lack of personal boundaries with each other. “It’s like we’ve been married for fifty years and lost all need for sex,” Buffy had mused once they’d received their first assignments.
“I’ll never lose the need for sex, baby,” Gunn had laughed.
They slid into bed, each having received their assignments for the next day. Gunn was to go with Fred to pick up something in San Diego, while Buffy was to report to Spike’s office at ten o’clock.
It was lucky for her she could sleep in, since she couldn’t even close her eyes until well after midnight.
The second the antique clock on the wall clicked ten AM, a tentative knock sounded at the door.
“Come on in,” Spike called out, standing as Buffy entered the room, dressed for the unseasonable heat in a short black skirt and a simple white men’s tee. Hair in a ponytail. Minimal makeup. Black purse over her shoulder. Bloody gorgeous.
“Good morning,” she smiled as she sat down across from him, flashing a bit of thigh as she crossed her legs.
He tore his eyes away from her smooth, tanned skin and up to her face. “All set to put your skills to use?”
Once again, she could have sworn there was something dirty in the way he said ‘skills’. She almost retorted with a remark about how he wishes he could use her skills, but then remembered her conversation with Gunn that morning. He’d pointed at that while Spike certainly seemed to enjoy her spunkiness; he was still supposed to be her boss, and a criminal mastermind boss at that. So she intended to tone down anything that could be seen as flirting, or even as insubordination. She liked her head right where it was, not removed from her body and buried in the sand. Not that there were any reports of him doing anything like that, she reminded herself. But still. Professionalism.
“Ready and willing,” she said peppily, then instantly regretted her words at the lustful look that burned in Spike’s eyes.
When she spoke, an image of her wrapped in nothing but a towel at the edge of his pool sprung into his mind, saying those three words. Before imaginary Buffy could drop that towel, Spike brought himself back to the present and said. “Well, I have quite a few things for you to get working on today. So we should probably just get started, yeah?”
Buffy nodded, and he brought out a file, sliding it towards her and explaining her first task.
He led her through yet another part of the house she’d yet to explore, into a huge media room. One of the best desktop systems money could buy was set up along one wall, with two laptops sitting next to it. “Hopefully this is everything you need,” he said when he caught her stunned expression.
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “More than I need. But don’t take it away!” She turned and pleaded, eliciting a laugh from her boss.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, pet,” he insisted, reluctant to leave her, but knowing there was no reason for him to be hovering around. “So just let me know when those first ten files are ready, yeah? The rest of it isn’t all that urgent.” And with that he was gone.
Buffy sighed and turned to the computers in front of her. She pulled out her iPod, put it on shuffle and settled in to work.
As she quickly deciphered codes and created passwords, she contemplated the possibility of transferring the files to the disks she had in her purse. She instantly negated that idea, however, remembering that Fred had warned her that the security team did random sweeps of the entire house. Instead, as the files opened and she moved them over to a new disk to give to Spike, she read each of them thoroughly and quickly, her handy speed reading skills and photographic memory allowing her to commit the information to her mind.
Nothing seemed all that interesting yet, but she knew it didn’t matter. The smallest piece of a puzzle was crucial, at the very end trying to solve it, if one corner wasn’t complete, the whole thing was worthless.
It took her about a few hours to get through the first chunk of work she’d been assigned, and when she was done she leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Ever since she was fifteen and had first been introduced to the intricate, complex things one could do with a simple computer, she hadn’t found anything else that made her as content. It was all a mystery, all a riddle to be solved, and she loved being the one to figure it out.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Spike enter. He leaned against the doorjamb, drinking in the sight of Buffy. She was cross-legged in the computer chair, big headphones covering her ears, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, fingers tapping to the music only she could hear.
After he’d left her to work, he’d remembered mid-conference call bits and pieces of the dream he’d had last night. Entangled limbs and sweat soaked sheets, moans from Buffy’s lips directly into his ear, her soft, yet strong hands caressing every inch of him. He was in trouble, and he knew it.
Buffy opened her eyes to see him standing there, and a smile appeared on her face. “I’m done with the first group,” she said as she removed her headphones.
“Oh, great,” he nodded, having forgotten there was even a reason he’d come to check on her. “I was just going to eat lunch, want to join me?” The invitation came out of his lips before he’d even really considered it. He usually had Fred bring him lunch, ate at his desk, or went out to meet one of his business associates or the many women he surrounded himself with. He was perfectly friendly with his staff, and he knew they all liked him, but he rarely socialized with them.
Buffy agreed hesitantly, and handed him the disk with all the open files. She followed him out to the kitchen, wondering if she’d already managed to do something wrong. Why would he want to have lunch with her otherwise?
“What do you want?” he asked, his words halting her train of thought.
“…want?”
“To eat, love,” he smirked.
“Well, what are my options?”
“I’m a damn good cook, if I do say so myself,” Spike said, opening up the fridge and perusing its contents. “I make a mean grilled cheese, for one.” She laughed, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. “Not a joke! I can do amazing things with bread and cheese.”
“Go to it then, by all means,” She smiled, taking a seat at one of the barstools. “I’m sure it will be the world’s best grilled cheese.”
“I think you’re making fun of me,” he growled. “Not sure how I feel about that.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“
“Whoa, woah,” he backtracked. “I’ve now decided I feel good about it, pet.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Someone has to keep me in line, and you seem up for the job.”
“It’ll be a pretty tough job,” she snarked. “But it does need to be done.”
They shared a smile as Spike gathered his ingredients. “Onions? Bacon? Mayonnaise? Muenster cheese? Any of these things offend you?” He asked as he turned on the stove.
“Not a thing,” she replied. “Although that doesn’t sound like any grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
“You just wait,” he grinned. As he cooked, he began asking her questions about herself, and as she had to lie, she came back down to earth from the heaven-like realm she’d been in for just a moment. This wasn’t a date. This wasn’t a guy she was getting to know for fun.
This was a man who was implicated in countless crimes. Drugs, violence, theft, the list went on. Buffy tried in vain to keep that in mind when she continued to converse with Spike, but her treacherous mind and body kept allowing his friendly words, his gorgeous eyes, and his killer smile to sway her.
Stupid sexual frustration.
Spike set the completed sandwich and a glass of water in front of her, and took a seat next to her with his own. He started expectantly at her as she took the first bite.
“Oh my God,” she said around a mouthful of sandwich, then after she swallowed, “That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” Spike raised his eyebrows at her, and she blushed. “The sandwich. I retract any doubts about your sandwich making skills.”
“Damn right,” he smiled, digging into his own meal.
They ate in a comfortable silence, a silence that was broken with the ring of Buffy’s cell phone, given to her the previous day by Fred with a number she was not to give to anyone but her co-workers.
Gunn’s name popped up on her caller ID, and she answered the phone with a smile. “Hey baby,” she said, unaware of Spike’s shoulders tensing.
The rush of jealousy that flooded his body when the image of Buffy and Gunn in bed together entered his mind surprised him. He’d almost forgotten she had a boyfriend. Another one of his employees.
“He’s right here, actually,” Buffy was saying, then mouthed to him. “Fred tried to call you.” She focused her attention back to her cell phone. “Okay, sure. I’ll let him know….just eating lunch. Mmhmm. Okay, see you in a bit.” She hung up and turned to Spike. “Fred wanted to let you know they’re almost there to pick…whatever they were picking up with no problem, they’re on their way back, and don’t forget you have a dinner with Margaret Walsh tonight.”
Spike laughed. “One day out of the office and she thinks I’ll fall apart without her. Although, I probably would.”
“How long as she been working for you?” Buffy asked casually, gleeful at this opening to start questioning him about his staff.
“About, three years, or so? Yeah, about that,” he said. “Only person who’s been with me longer is Lorne.”
“I still haven’t met him.”
“Really? You need to, he’s entertaining.”
“What does he do?”
“Sort of a…publicity guy,” Spike said carefully.
“Ah,” Buffy nodded, sensing his slight hesitation and not wanting to push it. “Well, I should probably go back to work.”
Spike agreed, reluctant that their time together was ending. “I’m heading into the office anyway. Xander’s around here somewhere if you need anything.”
Buffy offered to help clean up but he refused, sending her on her way as he attempted to think of something, anything else, but her.
As always, I'd love feedback!
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm so glad people are liking the fic so far. Standard disclaimer of I-own-nothing-cakes, and a note that I know very, very little about computer hacking. So I either make up something or just kind of---gloss right over it.