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Hi guys,

This is a repost of a story I took down a while back. Hope you guys enjoy! Unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are my own!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
She hated him on principle. He was arrogant and sarcastic and he had stupid, obnoxious hair and my god the best ass she had ever seen.

She still hated him on principle though.

He didn’t play any sports, or do any clubs, but yet he was still the most popular boy at Sunnydale High. She was sure it must have been the accent. He had the most attractive accent, rumbling and deep and a little rough around the edges. Every time he said something, she had to press her thighs together because oh god she could feel herself getting wet from his delicious voice.

But yeah, she hated him.

Buffy watched him sometimes. Watched him flirt with girls and leer and smirk seductively and sometimes he’d cock his eyebrow and everybody would fawn all over him and fall over their own feet to go do his bidding. It was disgusting, really. Buffy promised herself she would never be one of those girls, so when he had one day come up to her and whispered in her ear about how much he’d love to “show you around the school, love. Lots of sights to behold.“ she had angrily pushed him away and told him to go “charm some vapid bimbo elsewhere” before walking into the restroom so she could safely alleviate the ache between her legs.

That was back in September, and he had tried hitting on her once more at a party before giving up and just mocking her instead. “Ice Queen”, he called her, but Buffy gave just as good as she got and had a litany of nicknames for him which she made sure he knew about. “Billy Idol wannabe”, “peroxide punk”, “Edward Cullen”-because really who was that pale and still lived in California?- and of course, her favorite “Blondie Bear”. She had heard his skank of the week calling him that one time in Biology and had burst out laughing, loud enough to alert the teacher who still thought she was a little weird to this day. Often the blonde duo could be found arguing it out in the courtyard. Insults would be flung back and forth and for the rest of Sunnydale High it was like lunch and a show.

“What’s wrong Summers, is it that time of the month again? Didn’t know Ice Queens still PMS-ed.” he’d jeer and she would get a little red of the face and retort something like, “Well, Blondie Bear, I could see why you’re not the familiar with the female anatomy, Little spikey must not get out that much. “ and flounce off. That was a lie though, because Spike was infamously known as the sex god of the school and rumor had it he could get a girl off in 15 seconds flat.

Not that she thought about that or anything.

All of the above was why she found herself partnered with the insufferable peroxide blonde today. The teachers had gotten tired of their verbal sparring in the middle of class and had partnered them up for their final senior project. They had protested, loudly, often and angrily. No one would budge though, and they were stuck with each other for the next month and a half. They had avoided each other for the first month, glaring and huffing and doing anything to avoid working together, but now that they only had half a month left, they knew they had to start working. In a moment of surprising hospitality, she briefly considered inviting him over to work on their project, but then realized murder was a capital crime so she settled on waiting for him to come to her.

He didn’t, though. She waited and waited and finally one day just angrily marched over to him and slammed his locker shut and hissed out “My house. Tonight. Seven. Bring your books” before angrily stomping away. His chuckles only fueled her rage.

She set about making her room presentable after school. She stuffed Mr. Gordo into her hamper and threw some dirty clothes in there too. She then made sure her tampons weren’t visible in the bathroom and made her bed. Then she realized how ridiculous it was that she was trying to make an effort for Spike of all people and threw some clothes messily on the ground,as if to mark her independence because dammit she was not trying to impress Spike Pratt. Her mother offered to make hot chocolate, but she vehemently refused because Spike most certainly did not deserve that chocolate-y goodness, and then she sat in the living room and waited.

And waited

And waited

He was late. Twenty minutes late. She was already pissed off at him and he hadn’t even set foot in her house yet. It was a new record. When he finally did ring the doorbell, she shot up and stormed over, ready to give him a piece of her mind. What she found on the other side of the door, however, surprised her. Spike stood there with a dozen roses and he actually looked almost nice for once. His usual slicked back hair was messier this evening, and it looked soft to the touch. He had a deep red button down on top of his usual black t-shirt and he looked close to normal. It was beyond strange.

While Buffy was busy gaping at this transformation, her mother materialized behind her and cooed over how thoughtful this young man was, and weren’t the roses just lovely? She dumbly stepped aside to let Spike in, and watched, flabbergasted, as Spike proceeded to introduce himself to her mother as “William” and charm the socks off of her. As her mother went to go fetch a vase for the flowers she leaned in to whisper about how handsome this William was and how Buffy had done so well with picking out a project partner, this last comment was paired with a wink and a nudge from Joyce while Buffy looked on aghast.

With Joyce gone, Buffy stared mutely at Spike before nodding towards the stairs and leading him to her bedroom. Once inside, Spike broke the silence with, “What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue” and Buffy rounded on him.

“What’s up with you!? With your new shirt and your flirting with my mom-which, by the way, majorly icky- and your newfound manners and why is your hair not slicked back!?” By the time she was finished, she was flushed and Spike was smirking.

“Like what you see, love? I’ve heard red makes me look extra rogue-ish.”

Buffy had sputtered in indignation before spinning around to reach for her books.

Spike laughed.


Chapter End Notes:
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