Saturday Morning
William appraised his reflection after taking his medication. It had been five days since he'd started taking his medication again, and he was limiting himself to three drinks a day. He thought it would be hard as hell, but it actually hadn't been bad. Buffy was always there. He never realized how lonely he was until he had someone in his life every day.
William's history with women wasn't exactly stellar. He'd never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. He always sabotaged them in some way or just lost interest. Mainly, it was the latter of the two. Sure, he'd bonk a chit, but he'd never wanted any real emotional attachment.
William never felt he had the capacity to love and more importantly, couldn't imagine any woman loving the colossal mess that he was.
William scrunched up his nose and stuck out his long, pointed tongue, before deciding he needed to quit fannying about and finish getting dressed. He and Buffy were going to brunch this morning then to buy some herbs for the large concrete planter on the patio. Afterward, they were going to do the weekly grocery shopping.
Buffy—God, she was a breath of fresh air. She was witty, smart, and efficient, but could she certainly knock him down a peg or two if he got too big for his breeches. William seemed to have an uncanny knack for pushing her buttons as well, and he delighted in doing so, just to brass her off. She was adorable like that—drawing herself up to her full five feet, as though she were twice the size and full of piss and vinegar, her green eyes flashing as she verbally flayed him. William had never experienced anything like that with anyone before, and he should be ashamed to admit that it turned him on to see Buffy in such a state. He wasn't.
William enjoyed introducing her to new music this week, and though Buffy pretended to hate a lot of it, especially the punk, he caught her bouncing around and singing the words to Jawbreaker's "Boxcar" more than once. Hell, he just enjoyed being with her. William knew there was no way she'd ever think of him as anything beyond an employer or a friend at best. She was way too good for the likes of him.
William shook the thoughts from his head as he splashed on a bit of aftershave and ran a hand through his hair to tame his short curls. Then he went into his room to finish dressing, and a few minutes later he heard her call to him. He tied his shoes and walked out the door.
"Would you hurry up already? I'm hungry. Anyway, you're supposed to be the one waiting on me, not the other way around." Buffy looked up from the magazine she was reading as she heard him walk into the living room. "What's the matter? You have trouble getting your eyeliner straight?"
Buffy held a magazine just below her eyes, waiting for a verbal attack, but when none came, she looked a little perplexed.
William picked up his wallet and keys. Turning back to her, he said, "Little Miss Cheek, I'll have you know I can probably apply eyeliner with more precision than you." William let the remark sit and went on. "Are you ready to go? I know what low blood sugar does to you, and I definitely don't want that on my hands."
Buffy stood and picked up her purse. "Okay, we can go, but will you give me a make-over sometime?" She walked over and put her hand on his muscular forearm, looking at him seriously. "I didn't peg you for a cross-dresser. Are you gay, or do you just like to feel like a woman sometimes?"
William moved her arm; although he liked the way it felt on his skin and gave her a light shove toward the door.
"Bloody Christ, woman, you're a nutter. However, if you if find yourself missing some of your delicates, you'll know where they've gone. " He gave her a smirk and a wink.
She turned around to look at him, her eyes wide as saucers and her mouth gaping.
"Y–you're a twisted puppy, and besides my underwear wouldn't even fit you!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.
He looked at her red face, threw back his head, and laughed. "Tell, me pet, are you this volatile all the time, or do I just bring it out in you?"
Buffy bowed her head and looked truly cowed. When she lifted her head back up, she looked him in the eye. "I can honestly say, I'm a spirited person, and I don't let people run over me. However, I'm embarrassed to say, I've never in my life been this bitchy to anyone. It's a wonder you've not thrown me in the Charles this week—hell, after the first day. You make me lose my temper in ways I never imagined, but then you make me feel completely ridiculous about it five minutes later. I'm guessing the eyeliner is a punk thing. I should have gathered that from your musical selections this week."
Buffy held out her hand, "Truce?"
William took it in both of his, skimmed his thumb over the top of her hand, and looked down into her eyes. "Yeah, sounds good. Let's go eat."
She held his gaze, and Buffy looked almost shy as her cheeks flushed with color. William held onto her hand for a moment longer before releasing it, and she seemed almost bereft at the loss of contact. He was utterly confused.
They'd chosen to have brunch at Café Luna in Central Square on Mass Ave., because Buffy had read it was one of the best places in Cambridge. The small eatery looked inviting. The wrought iron tables and chairs outside were already filled with people, so they went inside and asked about a table. The host told William there would be a twenty-minute wait, but they were welcome to sit in the bar. He gave the man his name, and he and Buffy headed to bar to wait for their table.
William pulled out a chair at one of the tables in the bar for Buffy, and she climbed up and put her purse in the empty seat beside her, as he sat down next to her. The bartender came over and asked for their drink orders. William ordered a Bloody Mary and Buffy a mimosa, and both ordered coffees as well.
"Want me to get us some menus, so we'll know what we want when we finally get a seat?" he asked.
"Sure, that sounds great. The quicker I make up my mind, the sooner I'm fed." She smiled a little devilishly. "It's a good thing I'm having some orange juice to keep my blood sugar stable. Who knows what might have happened?"
"Yes, that is a good thing. I'll be right back."
Buffy watched him walk away and admired the view. William's jeans weren't too tight, but they definitely fit well. She wondered what he thought about her. Moments like just before they left the apartment, when he held her hand, made her think she saw something in his eyes, but she thought it was probably just wishful thinking on her part. William could have any woman he wanted, any time. Why would he want an inexperienced girl who shoved her foot down her throat every time she opened her mouth? Not that she wanted a relationship with her boss or anything, but a girl could still look, right?
William came back and handed her a menu, and she took it from him gratefully.
"All right, hmm, I see what I'm having," Buffy said, closing the menu.
He arched an eyebrow and gave her a funny look. "What? You just opened the sodding menu. You can't know."
She smiled and bobbed her head. "Yes, I can. I'm having the chocolate French toast."
William just rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. Well, I believe I'll take a moment longer."
While he was deciding, the server came around and refilled their coffees. Buffy noticed he was almost finished with his large Bloody Mary, but she'd barely started her mimosa. The server asked if he'd like another, and he said he'd like one with his meal.
"Okay," he said looking at her, "I've decided. I'm having the Monte Cristo."
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Yuck, isn't that a ham sandwich with jelly and mustard?"
He closed his menu, put his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.
"Yeah, what of it? It's cracking," he said with an air of nonchalance.
"Cracking? What does that even mean? You have to be on crack to eat it?" Buffy couldn't help but giggle at her own joke.
He gave her a mock sneer. "Summers, you think you're so funny, but you're the only one laughing at your barmy little joke. It's British slang—means excellent, good, brilliant. What would you say?" Adopting a horrible southern California falsetto voice, he said, "Oh, my Gawd! It's soooo yummy!"
Buffy burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was trying to catch her breath. "D–don't ever do that again, for both our sakes. That was the worst accent I've ever heard, and I think you might kill me with laughter."
She was still trying to regain composure when the host came to take them to their table. They took their drinks and followed him to a quiet booth in the back.
"So you think I'm funny do you?" William raised his eyebrows and smirked at her, a gurgle of laugher bubbled from his throat. "Oh, I'm a virtual laugh factory." Then his face turned somber. "Truth is, I can't remember ever laughing as much as I have in these last six days."
Buffy was caught completely off guard by his last statement and didn't quite know how to respond. "Well," she said, carefully, "I've had a lot of fun working with you and spending time with you, even when you forced me to listen to music I didn't always appreciate. But surely that's not true, and if it is, it breaks my heart." She hoped she wasn't out of line, but she reached across the table and put her hand on his forearm.
William looked down at her hand, and she didn't know if she should yank it back or not. He stared at it as if it were alien to him, before he put his other hand on top of hers.
He looked up at her and cleared his throat. "Buffy, I want to tell you something. Rupert told you I was having some problems. Well, I was diagnosed with bipolar two disorder when I was eighteen."
Buffy felt her eyes widen before she could stop the reaction, but she kept quiet, knowing she should hear the whole story before saying anything.
William noticed her reaction, but soldiered on. "I know what you're thinking, but it's different from bipolar disorder, which I'm sure you've heard of. What happens to me is, without proper medication, I go through cyclical bouts of depression, and I rarely have a hypomanic episode, and mine caused me to get into a lot of fights in my younger days. When it happens now, I end up with insomnia for a couple days." William saw Buffy's eye's softening and took a deep breath to continue. "I take medication to keep it all under control, but I was off my medication for a while, hence the problems. I'm taking it again and feeling much better. I just felt I should be honest with you. I know you came into this rather blindly. I don't want to be ill. My mother had bipolar disorder and refused to take her medication for most of my life, for reasons I don't quite know, but it—well, I'm sorry if I shared too much. I only thought I should be honest with you." William looked down as if he were afraid of what he might see in her eyes.
Buffy gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "William, I have no idea how you must feel, but I want you to know, I'm here to help. I'm sure you think I'm probably just a kid, but I hope you'll think of me as your friend. I don't think you shared too much. Thanks for your honesty, William. Telling me took a lot of courage, and I really admire that."
Buffy kept her voice in a low, gentle tone as she continued. "Look at me. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you as a child. Did your father, Dr. Giles, or your grandparents take on her responsibilities?"
He looked up at her, and it was as if someone had drawn a curtain.
He took a deep breath and gave her a shaky smile. "I think I've done enough sharing for today, don't you? Why don't we talk about something more pleasant? Do you want me to grab a copy of the Phoenix and see if there are any good bands playing tonight, or we could go to a movie?" He'd moved his hand from the table and clasped them both behind his neck, giving her a nice view of his biceps.
She knew he was trying to distract her, so she decided it best to drop the matter. She'd probably already said way too much. He would tell her more when he was ready.
"Whatever you want to do is fine by me. We could do either of those things, or I could make dinner, and we could watch television or maybe a movie." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her mimosa. "I'm good with anything."
"No, I'd rather go out. We've stayed in every night this week. At least let me take you to dinner. I mean, if you want to go. You don't have to. We'll be done with work then, so you're free to do what you will." He took a gulp of coffee and fidgeted with the creamer pitcher, almost tipping it over.
"William, I want to do something with you. You choose. Surprise me. Just give me an idea of what time, what to wear, and I'll be there. Okay?"
He was about to respond when the server came to take their orders and replenish their coffee. William decided he'd have another Bloody Mary while they waited for their food and went to the front of the restaurant to grab a copy of the local paper.
"All right, let's see what we've got here," he said, turning the pages and scanning them intently. "Oh, here's something you would like. Wooden Birds is playing at Great Scott tonight. We could grab a bite then go to the show." He looked up at her as if gauging her reaction.
"What kind of band are they? I'm not in the mood for loud, crowded, and screaming." She cast him a sideways glance, smoothing the tablecloth.
"They're Americana, I guess. Kind of roots rock, slower paced, not loud, heavier into the lyrics with a cleaner sound. Their latest album received great reviews. We could go early and get a table, so we wouldn't have to stand." He closed the paper and drummed his fingers on the table.
"Sure, sounds good. Just pick somewhere quick and easy for dinner." She gave him a bright smile.
The server brought their food, and the William went over some spots they could go for dinner. Then they discussed what herbs they were going to buy at the nursery. William complained about having to bring up all the potting soil to fill the massive planter, but she reminded him of the staff at his apartment, and he seemed appeased. William paid the check when they were done, and they were off to the nursery, talking easily about work and listening to music.
Saturday Afternoon
At the nursery, they chose basil, oregano, cilantro, mint, rosemary, and chives. William had his doubts as to whether or not the planter would hold all the herbs, but Buffy assured him it was large enough to hold them all nicely. Their next stop was the market. They strolled the aisles of the store picking things they would need for the week. Buffy had put together menus, so that made things fairly easy. She was rather shocked when she saw him hefting three six-packs of beer into the cart.
"You afraid they might stop making that or what?" she asked, trying to sound as though she was teasing.
He slammed the last one down in the cart and sneered at her. "Why don't you mind your own damn business? I don't remember one of duties being policing the amount of alcohol I buy or consume," he said, his voice low and vitriolic.
She knew her mouth was hanging open in shock, so she quickly pressed her lips together. She didn't quite know what to do. Things had been going so well. How was she going to fix this?
"Look, I—" She drew in a deep breath. "I didn't mean to upset you. I wasn't trying to start a fight. We've been having a lovely day. Why would I want to deliberately make you angry? But you have no right to talk to me the way you just did, and I think it would be best if we just paid for what we have and left. I'll get the rest of what we need tomorrow on my day off."
She took hold of the cart and started pushing it toward the checkout registers, leaving him standing there with one hand on his hip and the other massaging is left temple.
William came to the front and stepped in front of her without saying a word. He paid for the groceries, and they were on their way. The ride back to the apartment was made in tense silence. He let her off at the entrance, and she took as many bags as she could. She also informed the concierge that Mr. Elliston would need assistance.
When everything was inside, he didn't speak, and she only spoke when necessary.
Buffy said, "I'll put the refrigerated items away, and you can do the rest. After I'm done, I'm going outside to get these herbs in the planter." She walked out without waiting for a reply.
William wanted to scream and punch himself at the same time. He had no idea what had come over him in the store. He was embarrassed and ashamed, but he didn't quite know how to rectify the situation. He'd never seen her like this, and he wasn't the best when it came to conveying his emotions correctly. William decided to let her cool down. In the meantime, he'd make himself a nice large vodka tonic. He went to the cupboard and pulled down the biggest glass he could find. He filled it about three quarters of the way full and pour a dash of tonic in then added a couple of ice cubes.
William went into the living room, reached in a drawer for his cigarettes and an ashtray then went to sit on the sofa.
I'm not lighting a fucking candle either. It's my bloody house, and I'll do what I want.
He lit the cigarette and took a long drag followed by a huge gulp of vodka. He watched Buffy work, and she was a sight to behold. The sun was shining on her hair, bringing out the golden highlights, and he took in the tan expanse of her legs revealed by the little pair of shorts she wore. He could tell her hackles were up by way she stomped around. She was adorable and sexy as hell.
Jesus, he was a wanker! He'd made a complete arse of himself the entire day. He all but asked her on a date, and he was sure the only reason she'd said yes was because she felt sorry for him, sod that he was, spilling his guts. That, or she thought she might lose her job if she didn't. He hoped she didn't think he really such prick that he fire her over that.
Such a stand-up bloke. Can't imagine why she wouldn't fancy a git like me.
He stubbed the cigarette out, but kept on drinking. He felt the liquor warm his body, but it seemed to be hitting him harder than usual and faster too, yet he continued to drink. The last thing he remembered was thinking he should get up and apologize for being an arse, but his eyes wouldn't focus, and his legs didn't seem to work.
Then everything faded to black.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi, I’m back with another update. I hope you enjoy this one, and feel free to share your thoughts on the matter. Thanks to Abby and Diebirchen for their beta skills. Thanks to Minx Delovely for giving me her honest and valued opinion on things and to Edgehead for the cool banner
Chapter End Notes:
Get out your flashlights. Beware of that cliff! There should be another update shortly.