CHAPTER SEVEN: Just a Little Push
Buffy tossed the lump of crust down into the nearly empty pizza box and brushed the lingering crumbs off of her fingertips. She watched Spike as he sat back in his chair, full from all the food they’d consumed. She finished chewing her last bite and swallowed, sitting back in her seat and mirroring Spikes posture.
When they came here Buffy expected them to retreat up to Spikes bedroom like they used to do when they were kids, but when they entered the house Spike headed straight for the kitchen, probably hoping to avoid an intervention speech that would be brought on by the abundance of liquor bottles littering the bedroom floor. Not to mention the one he’d picked up while they were out for their walk. Little did he know that she planned on saying something to him anyway, and then they’d head upstairs and she would make him help to clean things up. This place needed to be livable whether he was going to stay or sell.
Buffy eyed the whiskey bottle sitting in front of him. He’d already drank about two shots worth. That seemed to relax him enough and she intended to cut him off at that.
“So,” she started, catching his attention and leaning forward to grab the bottle, taking a very brief swig before replacing the cork and setting it down on the floor out of sight. “Do you have any ideas about what you want to do to the parlor? Fresh coat of paint… new furniture…”
Spike shrugged and tried not to come across as bitter that she’d taken his whiskey and deliberately tucked it out of eyesight. “Don’t quite know yet,” he said looking at her. “Don’t exactly have a lot of money to be throwing around on stuff like that. Need to get me a steady job first,” he said shaking his head. “Can’t bloody well find anything permanent.”
Buffy leaned forward on her elbows and cupped her chin in her palm. “What sorts of jobs have you had these last couple of years?”
Spike blushed a little, something Buffy was beginning to find adorable on him, and he exhaled deeply. “I’ve worked a couple fast food joints, I’ve done custodial work…” His eyebrows raised and he perked up for a moment. “I did a few solo sessions at the Bronze and got paid for those… Not crazy about becoming a lounge singer for fellow townies, though.”
Buffy remembered his drawer full of song lyrics.
All I Ever Wanted…
She swallowed and blinked a few times. “Did you ever consider being a song writer?”
Spike was a little surprised. “Write songs for other people to sing, you mean?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems too complicated.”
Buffy shook her head and sat back again. “You’ve got talent, though, Spike. I’ve seen the lyrics to some of your songs. You may want to reconsider either selling the rights to some or getting over your stage fright and-“
“Oi! I don’t have stage fright, alright? It’s just… different being up there by myself. I’m used to being part of a band, you know? And when have you ever read or heard my songs, hm? Wasn’t exactly writing my own stuff when I was with the Dingoes…”
Buffy panicked and her cheeks flushed. She’d forgotten she’d only come across those papers because she was snooping through his things. She was not a quick thinker when it came to convincing lies. “Um…” Her mouth flopped open and closed a few times, resembling a fish. “Well, you know, I stumbled across a sheet or two when I came to pick up some of your clothes the other night,”
Spike sat up a little straighter and looked away from her for a moment. Exactly which lyrics had she seen? And what did she really think of them? He cleared his throat and stood, cleaning up the food mess to busy himself. “Yeah?” he asked somewhat nervously. “What did you think?”
Buffy gulped and followed suit, helping him clean up and load dishes into the dishwasher, so very domestic of them. Spike didn’t miss the feeling that coursed through him when he thought of this becoming more permanent. His mind didn’t let him relish in the feeling long, though, and he quickly reminded himself that she had another life in another town, and in just a matter of days she would be gone again.
Buffy took a deep breath, remembering the feelings and memories she had gotten as a result of reading his song lyrics. She smiled shyly to herself. “I liked them,” she said closing the dishwasher and turning to face him, feeling emboldened. “I’d like to hear you sing them, though. I think I’d understand better… what you were feeling…”
Spike clenched his jaw, his heart racing as he pictured singing to her all of the feelings he’d had for her. He was fairly certain at this point that she’d gone snooping in his bedroom and found his little shrine to her in his dresser drawer. He found he was annoyed with her, but also anxious for her thoughts and feelings on them. It was overwhelmingly tempting to ask, but not tempting enough. He cleared his throat as he finished washing his hands and turned the faucet off. He didn’t know what else to say to her now, so he chose to drop the subject completely.
When the silence between them grew longer and more awkward Buffy decided to change the subject, albeit another difficult topic, but it was one that needed to be discussed. Besides, if he was going to act like a child and ignore her just because he didn’t like the topic then she’d change it to one he liked even less.
She pushed herself off of the kitchen counter and made her way over to the door. “You can stay down here if you’re more comfortable, especially since you’re apparently not talking to me anymore, but I’m going into your room to clean out all the trash and bottles.” She felt bitter at his sudden silence and stubbornness and she maliciously snapped at him. “You know it’s a miracle they didn’t suspect you of anything with the way your room looks right now. You’re lucky you weren’t questioned for murder or manslaughter…”
Spike instantly fumed and clenched his jaw so tight he thought for a moment he might break a molar. She was a complete bitch for saying that. Did she even have a soul? “There’s record of me being at the Bronze that night. There is no motive and my fingerprints were not on the pistol,” he said as he leaned over the sink. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Believe me when I tell you they looked at me long and hard.”
Buffy instantly regretted her words once she’d said them; it was as if someone else completely had taken over her brain and mouth. Unfortunately it really was her, and she wished she could take the words back without him hearing, but it was too late and there was no taking them back. She stood with her hand poised on the door frame as he spouted angrily at her. When he finished she pursed her lips and ducked her head, moving out of the room filled with shame and guilt.
x X x X x X x X x X x
Buffy spent a good ten minutes in Spikes private bathroom crying her eyes out, so disgusted with herself at her little outburst. She’d had no right to say the cruel things she’d said to him. He’d had enough things to be upset about, and he didn’t deserve any more pain in his life.
When she’d finally composed herself enough she reemerged from the small tiled room, wiping at her damp eyes and looking around the bedroom, at all of the trash. She quickly moved and started to gather the bottles, stuffing as many as she could into her arms before walking them over to the small trash can. One trip had already filled the waste basket, but with blurry vision, Buffy didn’t seem to notice. She sniffled and walked her way over to another area of the room, bending and picking up more bottles. When she reached out to grab another bottle she paused… another hand had reached out and grabbed it first. When she looked up Spike was gazing back at her, crouching in the same manner as herself, his eyes red and puffy like hers.
Buffy’s lips quivered and she dropped the bottles in her arms, lunging forward and into his arms, squeezing her eyes shut to hide the fresh tears that threatened to spill. She held him tight, trying to make him feel how sorry she was and just how much she cared for him.
Spike was a little surprised by the hold she had on him, but he also knew she hadn’t meant what she said downstairs, and that she was probably very upset with herself, and with him. He knew her well enough to know that sometimes her foot liked to live in her mouth, and although it wasn’t something he would easily forget, he was willing to forgive her for what she’d said. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for her to pull back and look at him before pressing her lips against his.
Their noses bumped and Buffy inhaled sharply as she pulled back for a moment before leaning in and kissing him again. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was kissing him, or why she suddenly brought this on, but the way his body was reacting to hers was the only thing he could think of. The feeling of having her soft body pressed against his, kissing him through her tears… the only thing better that he could think of was if she had been kissing him through a smile instead.
He’d take what he could get.
Spike snaked his fingers into her hair and the tiny noise she made as a result had him hooked. He knew then that he would be lost to her forever. Carefully he parted his lips to try and catch a taste of her. She responded immediately and eagerly and within seconds her tiny pink tongue was poking out to meet his.
Butterflies that felt like bats fluttered in her stomach when he pulled her flush against him, groin and all. The high she got from kissing him didn’t even compare to anything any man had ever made her feel before. Her entire body tingled at his touch. It was new, and unfamiliar, but she knew wanted to keep feeling it… to keep feeling him.
She couldn’t help the mewl that escaped her lips as she moved her arms from his body to up around his neck, successfully pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get with clothes on. Her fingers slipped into the hair at the top of his neck. He purred in contentment.
Spikes fingers gripped her waist and slipped partially under her top, tickling the exposed skin on her hips and lower back. This wasn’t what he had expected to get from her when he decided to come up here, but with each passing second he was becoming more and more attached. He didn’t want to let her go.
Buffy inhaled deeply through her nose, refusing to let go of this moment even though she knew there were going to be repercussions. It was wrong, and it was taking advantage of a bad situation, but he wasn’t at all pulling back and that was enough to fuel her forward. Her stomach did another flip flop and her rude conscious finally got the best of her. Before long she began to gently push away from him.
His forehead creased in despair when their kiss finally ended with a smack, but he was afraid to open his eyes. A small fire had been ignited inside him during those brief spontaneous moments, and he was not about to let her douse it already. He would give her her space, if that was what she wanted, but he would in no way let her crawl back into her shell or let this incident go unmentioned. He’d had enough with their dancing. He needed her too badly.
Buffy swallowed hard and opened her eyes wide, looking at him wearily with blurry vision, stunned with herself for allowing this to happen, and afraid of his reaction.
Spike did the same, though he did not let go of her waist as they panted and stared into each other.
Buffy suddenly panicked and shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand as a new wave of tears spilled forth. “I…”
Spike shook his head and pleaded with his eyes for her to be kind in her words. He wasn’t sure if he could handle any form of rejection from her, especially when she was the one to start the whole thing in the first place. She’d set him up and she was already ready to knock him down…
Buffy saw the look in his eyes and she wavered a little. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t let that happen again. “I-I’m sorry,” she spoke softly. “I shouldn’t have done that… and I shouldn’t have said what I did…” she said fighting more tears. “I just felt so bad. I was such a bitch and you didn’t deserve it…”
Spike swallowed his own tears and Buffy watched as his adams apple bobbed the way it always did. She fought the renewed urge to put her hands on him, She hated herself for being so weak, for not being able to keep her priorities straight and help him without jumping his bones and acting like a wanton tramp. She needed to learn to control herself in her outbursts and her actions, no matter how tempting his sexy bones were.
She pulled in a claming breath of air and looked him in the eyes. “This,” she sniffled, “can’t keep happening. Not like this.”
Spikes world had crumbled with the death of his father, and now Buffy was around kicking the stones. He no longer had the will power to argue. He had wanted very much for this to keep happening between them. Why couldn’t she? So far it was the only time he felt uplifted at all, but he supposed the rational part of him understood why she was saying these things. He’d let it drop… for now… but only because he had a good amount of whiskey in him again and she wouldn’t take him seriously if he tried to fight for her. He’d find his moment though… he just hoped he got one before it was too late.
Spike released his grip on her somewhat bitterly, and didn’t miss the way she quickly scurried backwards, putting a good three feet between them as she pushed the hair out of her eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat along with the zillion things he wanted to say to her and continued to put the stray bottles in the garbage, acting like nothing had happened, but knowing he could never forget that it did.
Buffy busied herself by standing up and making his bed and finding ways to change the subject all together. “Do, um,” she said clearing her throat and acting as if nothing had happened between them. “You have any blank paper and a pencil? Or a pen?”
Spike clenched his jaw at her quick dismissal of everything and nodded his head toward the night stand. “In the drawer there.”
Buffy flushed at his anger and carefully stepped around the foot of the bed and reached for the drawer, opening it and seeing a stack of blank paper right on top. “Did you have any preferences… a-about colors or fabrics? For the rooms?”
Spike smirked through his anger. His face felt like it was a thousand degrees as he worked to keep from blowing his lid. What the bleeding hell did he know about fabrics? “I’m not so partial to hot pink, but other than that anything will do. Just so long as it doesn’t look the way it does now.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Bloody well tired of the same old shit.”
Buffy gulped at his obvious irritation and looked around the room again, reminding herself of the things she knew he loved. The room now was simple, and not the least bit elegant. Grey walls and some posters were all that decorated the space. A nice four-post bed and matching armoire were the only things that stood out to her. She started to think of his favorite colors, and watched out of the corner of her eye as he tied up the garbage bag and tossed it into the hall, landing with several loud clinks.
Her cheeks burned as her thoughts traveled back to their very much recent kiss, and how angry she was at herself for coming across as cold after she’d abruptly stopped it. She hadn’t meant to, she just needed him to know she couldn’t take advantage of him. He was a lonely man who needed comforting. Was that what she had been doing? Comforting a grieving man? She’d enjoyed it far too much for her to justify it that way. It had been made abundantly clear to her though, in that brief moment, that she wanted him… and she wanted him bad.
Ashamed at her uber trampy-ness she ducked her head and started a small sketch on the paper provided, closing the drawer from which she’d grabbed it, not noticing what had lay just beneath the other papers.
x X x X x X x X x X x
Spike finished cleaning all of the unwanted junk out of his bedroom and looked over at the now sleeping blonde in his bed. She’d fallen asleep an hour or so earlier as he went through his dresser drawers and closet, pitching and bitching everything that he no longer wanted. He’d had time to cool off, and he no longer felt like ripping the place apart as a result of her wishy-washy behavior. He’d be a big boy and deal.
He’d worked up quite a sweat while lugging bags and bags of junk out of the room and down to the garage. He took his sweat-soaked t-shirt off and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. As it turns out, Buffy hadn’t done much cleaning or rearranging like she’d planned. She’d sat on the edge of his bed and sketched, occasionally asking him a question or punching buttons on her little smart phone. She looked like an accountant busy at her desk the way she shuffled from one sheet to another so quickly. More than once he’d turned and caught her staring at his naked back, and a twinge of cockiness would grace his lips as he worked on. There was something there, and she could deny it all she wanted. He wasn’t going to let it drop.
Spike wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep. He’d looked over his shoulder at one point to ask her a question and saw her passed out on his pillows. It hadn’t been the first time she’d fallen asleep in his bed, but looking at her now… this was the first time he’d felt a certain possessiveness over her. He fell in love with the sight of her sprawled out on top of his sheets.
Looking into the room from the doorway he felt a sense of accomplishment… something he hadn’t felt in quite some time. So much clutter had been removed from his bedroom. All of the garbage, all the bottles, everything that reminded him of Dru… it was like a breath of fresh air. And a perk? That fresh air smelled like Buffy. It was exhilarating.
Spike looked over at the clock and though he’d been working non-stop for hours on end and never yawned once, it was as if seeing the time made him feel tired all of a sudden. It was nearing four in the morning and all the work from the day had finally caught up to him.
For a moment he thought about waking Buffy and taking her back over to her mother’s house, but a closer look quickly changed his mind. She had kicked off her shoes, pulled off her sweatshirt, and had wiggled herself under the comforter. She looked like she’d already made up her mind to stay, and with that he made his way into his bathroom and prepared a hot shower to rid himself of the salty sweat and grime that had formed on his skin.
It had been over a week since he’d showered and slept in his own home, the thought of what had happened just downstairs making him flee from the place where he’d grown up. He’d thought a lot about it in the last few hours, the room being so quiet he couldn’t help himself. In that time he decided that even though the memory hurt, there was no way he could let the house go. There were too many happy memories here to let one terrible one chase him away. He wasn’t a runner. It wasn’t in his nature. He would just… avoid the study for a while.
Spike turned the water faucet and held his hand in the water until he was sure it was a comfortable temperature. De-vesting himself of his pants and rare pair of boxers his mind traveled back to Buffy again. He knew she was beginning to feel something more for him… more than companionship, more than best friend. He could see it in her body language… in her soulful green eyes. They sparkled at him in a way they never had when they were younger. Back when he’d wished she would look at him like that… when he wished she would love him.
He still very much wanted that love from her, but this time around it came with a price. Even if she would overlook what brought them back together and admit that her feelings were real and not out of sympathy, she lived in a completely different city. Would she expect him to move to the city with her? If so then he wasn’t ready for that. He’d only just decided he couldn’t leave his home… their home really. And anyone who knew him knew he was no city boy. What she would ask of him he simply could not give her. Not right now.
Stepping under the spray he immediately tilted his head back, keeping the runny gel and grime out of his eyes as it was washed out of his hair. He smiled a bit to himself, thinking about why his hair had gel in it anyway. He hadn’t taken the time to groom or clean himself up in months. Then Buffy shows up and bam… they fall right back into the patterns they shared half a decade ago. He loved that about her. Her mere presence could change the mood of a room entirely… and it had.
When she first showed up here he was mad at her. She hadn’t taken the time to see him or speak to him in years. Not for birthdays, not for Christmas… why should a death in his family make any difference? As he thought about it though he realized that he probably owed her his life. She’d brought him back from the brink, and all he could think about was how bad it was going to hurt when she up and left again, and neglected to call like she’d done before. They would part, and grow apart, both too afraid to have a go at a relationship for entirely different reasons. She thinking that it was inappropriate at a time like this, and he too afraid to make a big change in his life. But what about that expression… it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
Spike sighed and finished washing himself, busying his mind with thoughts of anything but Buffy’s inevitable departure. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on it and sulk. He would do the only thing he could do… finish his shower, suck it up and go to sleep. Tomorrow would be a whole new battle.
x X x X x X x X x X x
Buffy stirred in her sleep when she heard the shower curtain being yanked aside. For a brief moment she panicked, forgetting where she was, but the scent of the sheets that surrounded her refreshed her memory, and she settled back in with a slight smile.
The room was dimmed. Spike must have turned down the lights when he finished cleaning. The space looked substantially better, and Buffy was glad to see he’d taken the initiative to do it himself after she’d fallen asleep. He still had a ways to go, but she could tell he was already showing signs of healing… both mentally and physically.
The door to the bathroom swung open and, afraid of any deep meaningful conversations at this point in the night, she pretended to once again be asleep. She heard Spike come out and could hear rustling as he went through his drawers. Carefully she opened one eye and peeked over at him. Satisfied that he had his back to her she opened her eyes completely and silently watched him as he made his way around the room.
The sight of him made Buffy’s heart swell. Shirtless and damp, wearing nothing but a silver chain around his neck and a towel hanging low on his waist… he was positively drool worthy. If he’d stripped and told her to spread her legs for him right now she would do it in a heart beat. Consequences and conscious be damned. His pale skin had her fingers itching to touch him. Never in her life had she had such want for one person, and of course it had to be him. She wondered if it wouldn’t be so bad for them to be together. Their platonic relationship wasn’t working so well anyway, what with the kisses and dirty thoughts and all…
He turned toward her and she quickly closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. If he caught her ogling him it wouldn’t exactly help the situation they were in. Plus his ego, if it was anything like it used to be, would never let her forget it.
Spike quickly dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of shorts he’d pulled out of the drawer. Something told him going commando wouldn’t exactly make her happy. Though technically… it could…
Shaking his head at his own inappropriate thoughts he tossed the wet towel down by the door and flipped the lone desk lamp off, darkening the room to pitch blackness.
Buffy could sense through her eyelids that the light was now off and she took the moment to sneak another peak at him. His eyes would be adjusting to the darkness anyway and he wouldn’t be able to tell she was looking. To her disappointment, and relief, he was wearing shorts, but nothing else. She closed her eyes again as the mattress depressed under his weight as he carefully crawled over her and settled between her and the wall, pulling the covers up over his legs and scooting up behind her.
Buffy couldn’t help it, her heart began to race. He was spooning her! All on his own… even after all the events of the day. Slut Buffy hadn’t come out to play and yet he was snuggling up to her. She couldn’t help but assume that he too had developed some feelings… This was so incredibly new and strange. Once her best friend, now her crush? Her mind couldn’t take much more of this back and forth insanity.
After Spikes body stilled and his breathing slowed, Buffy found the urge to voice just one question that she couldn’t seem to ignore. One that she looked to the ceiling for as she swallowed hard and carefully entwined her fingers with his.
“How did I fall in love with you?”
There was no answer… not that she had expected one, but she was once again torn. She wanted him, but she didn’t want to cross a line. How did the universe expect her to balance this out without anyone getting hurt in the process?
What she didn’t see was the wide awake man lying behind her with his expression of bewilderment and turmoil on his face. Despite how tired he had been before, it would be tough finding sleep tonight.
TBC
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PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE R&R?