Spike didn’t. Fall asleep, that is.
He really should’ve. Stayin’ awake like a nancy-boy, stroking his girl’s hair—that had never been his style. He didn’t have the patience for it.
But tonight, all he really wanted to do was lie there and bask in the knowledge that the girl who’d hated him for three years—the one he’d loved for longer than that—was lying in his arms.
Wait. Hold that thought. Spike suddenly stiffened, scowling.
Loved?
Bloody, sodding, buggering, rat-ass-shagging hell.
He was a dense one, wasn’t he? That whole sodding time at the hospital where he’d just sat with her, the fact that every time she smiled, or laughed, or—bloody hell—even just looked at him he went straight back to bein’ William...it all pointed to one thing. He was head over heels, point-of-no-return, bloody-awful-poetry-inspiring in love with her.
Damned if he wasn’t love’s bitch.
What was pathetic was that he hadn’t known earlier. He’d always loved fighting her; hell, for a little while, he’d practically lived for it. Every day he used to look forward to clashing with her, to fighting and eventually coming out on top—or not, depending on the day.
He was startin’ to think this was better than fighting.
She was so small, so soft, lying there in his arms. He’d never really realized how tiny she was before. She was a shirty little thing, usually—when he was fighting with her, he didn’t even really think about height.
He stroked her newly golden hair and sighed into the darkness. She was lying in his arms—that was progress. But he didn’t have any way of knowing whether or not his feelings were reciprocated.
Reciprocated. Sodding hell. Poetic thoughts and big words. He really was far gone, wasn’t he?
She shifted in his arms; automatically, he shifted with her. Christ, they fit so well together. He’d slept with enough girls to know that this was different from anything he’d ever experienced before, different even from what most kids his age experienced. This was special.
Goddamn it.
Not that he wasn’t glad it was special, or anything. Because he was. But how the bleeding hell was he supposed to make sure she felt the same way? He could exactly just shake her and say, “Hey, pet, are you as head over heels in love with me as I am with you?”
Oh, God. Now he’d said the word in his head. Talk about the point of no buggerin’ return...
He was contemplating just jumping out the window when the girl lying in his arms gave out a little sigh and shifted, gripping his arm like it was a comfort blanket. Her face was perfectly peaceful.
How the bloody hell was he supposed to hate this whole falling in love business when she pulled delightful little stunts like that?
And he could see down her shirt, which wasn’t exactly wonderful because it was making him get a hard-on, which she was lying on. It was a vicious circle. And yeah, he could have fixed it by just not looking—but her tits were right there. Anyone would’ve looked at them. Hell, their stuffy, never-been-shagged English teacher woulda looked at ‘em. And Spike had shagged and been shagged enough times to know that her breasts were rather nice ones.
The images they were causing to form in his mind were nice, too, the same way that fire was nice—get too close, an’ you get burned.
Although with his luck, by the time this night was over, he’d be so damn horny all he’d be able to think or say would be caveman-like.
Her leg twined with his, pressing her stomach more firmly into his burgeoning erection. He barely bit back a groan. Come sunrise, he’d be lucky if he could manage saying “Fire pretty.”
And the worst part? He felt like the biggest prick ever born. Moments like this were supposed to be all “Gone With the Wind”, not “Penthouse XXX.” He was supposed to cuddle her, maybe kiss her forehead, not spend all sodding night wishing he could sink himself into her and pound her into the mattress.
He groaned as the visualization made him twitch. ’m a soddin’ idiot, he thought angrily. God knows she deserves better.
She sighed again in her sleep; he echoed her. Thank God she doesn’t seem to want it.
Though he was sure that with Spike Jr. making himself known he’d be up all night, after awhile he began to drift off. After awhile, he was able to relax enough to drift into full-fledged sleep, Buffy still in his arms.
*
Shouting woke him up.
He damn near sat bolt upright before he realized that Buffy was sprawled practically on top of him. Even with worry roiling round in his stomach, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.
He’d been awakened by shouting coming from the downstairs. He listened closely for a moment before recognizing Buffy’s parents’ voices. He couldn’t hear clearly enough to know what they were saying, but he’d bet a pretty penny they were arguing about what that bastard had said to Buffy.
Their voices got closer. Spike must have tensed up, because suddenly Buffy stirred and opened her eyes.
“Spike?” she said quietly, her voice slurred from sleep. “What’s going on?”
“Shh, love.” He pointed to the clock: 1:27 AM. “Looks like your mum and da ‘re having a row.”
Buffy groaned, slumping back down on his chest. “That sentence was too damn British for the middle of the night.”
He smirked. “You think that’s British, luv, you’re gonna lose your knickers ‘f I ever decide to talk like a real Brit.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’d hate that,” she mumbled. “Now shut up. Sleep good.”
He grinned at her sweetly grumpy attitude—and at the images that floated through his mind with her comment. “Dunno, pet, they seem pretty mad. Might come up here to check on you.”
She stiffened again. “Oh, shit! The door’s not locked!”
She bounded off the bed and practically ran over to the door, pushing the simplistic lock down. Spike arched an eyebrow at her. “Not gonna be much protection, luv,” he informed her. “Pop a screwdriver in there and we’re caught.”
She wrinkled that little button nose of hers at him. “You think my parents are that smart?”
He grinned. “Point taken.” Then he got an idea. He smirked, crooking his finger at her. “C’mere.”
Her eyes instantly turned wary—he gloried in the idea that lying in her bed, he could put her on her guard. “What’re you gonna do?”
He smirked. “Guess.”
“I don’t wanna.” Childishly, she stayed near the door.
He gave a derisive snort. “Knew you wouldn’t have the stones. Just like you, Summers, you let a man get into your bed, and then you get skittish later on.”
“Hey!” she snapped indignantly. Her eyes lit up with that fire that he loved so much. “I got stone! I got a whole lot of—stones!”
He smirked again. He couldn’t help it. Bein’ in her bed, surrounded by her scent, was turning him into both a ponce and a wanker at the same time. “D’you even know what stones are, Goldilocks?”
Her angry expression faltered. “Um…not exactly…”
“Balls, luv.”
He watched in delight as a bright red blush, visible even in the pale light cast by her bedside lamp, spread across her face. Funny how after snogging and nearly shagging him on the couch, she chose now the blush.
“Um. I knew that.”
“Right, then. Come back to bed, pet.”
She neared the bed, but he could see that she was scowling. “God. Do you have to make it sound like that?”
“Like what?” Spike said in a deliberately innocent voice, even though he was pretty sure he knew what she was talking about.
“Like we’re—like we just—you know,” she hissed.
She was blushing again. God, he loved that. ‘course, he loved everything about her, but he particularly loved the blushing. She was so damn tempting…
And just a few feet away from the bed. He rolled over, the sheet slipping off of him, and grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him. She let out a little “eep!” as her knees hit the edge of the bed and she tumbled into his lap.
She scowled at him. “Cheater.”
“You know you love it,” he shot back, leaning up and covering her lips with his.
What ensued afterwards was, to Spike at least, the purest form of heaven there was. She was so soft, so warm, and so incredibly enthusiastic—she seemed happy beyond measure to be writhing about in his lap, panting so loudly it was really a wonder her parents didn’t hear them.
He slid his hand up and cupped her breast—both of them moaned. They were small, nowhere near as big as some girls’, but to Spike they were the most perfect bleeding tits he’d even come across. God, just touching them was making him want to spill his pants like some poncy virgin.
Luckily, his girl had common sense and the hottest pair of breasts he’d ever come across, because after a few breathless minutes, she pulled back.
“We can’t—do this—now,” she gasped, straightening the t-shirt where he’d mussed it. “Way—too—slutty.”
“I like slutty,” he growled, trying to sit up and nip at her nipple.
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. School tomorr-oooh….” She trailed off in ecstasy as Spike pushed her hand aside and soaked the cotton covering her breast with hot, open-mouthed kisses.
Dammit—she had to be wearing a bra, didn’t she? He growled and reached around to unfasten it, thanking God that his kisses were preventing her from stopping him.
Knock knock.
“Buffy?”
*
Her eyes flew open as her mother’s voice came through the door. Wide green eyes met blue for a split second—their lips crashed together for a last kiss—and then Spike was up and half out of the window.
Buffy slipped down in her bed and pulled the covers up. Oooh, she could still feel his warmth…
“Buffy?” Again came the call, and this time a rattle of the doorknob accompanied it. “Buffy, why is the door locked? And what are you doing up so late?”
Shit, she thought as she heard Spike hit the ground two stories below. Shit shit shit shit shit. Run fast, Spike. “S—sorry, Mom!” she called, hopping up again. “I got cold, so I was—um—changing.” She opened the door and smiled at her very worried looking mother. “See? No biggy.”
Joyce peered past her daughter. “Buffy, if it’s cold, why are you wearing shorts? And why is the window open?” She strode into the room and fixed her daughter with a hard look. “Elizabeth Anne Summers, what is going on?”
“Um—well, it’s—“ Dang it! She’d lied before, why couldn’t she do it now? “I—it got stuffy, the room I mean, with the—stuffiness of rooms, and all, so I opened the window, but then I got cold so I closed it again, but then the stuffiness came back, so I opened the window, and I was going to change but for some weird reason sleeping in pants wigs me out in a big way, so I just—um—changed my mind about changing!” She beamed at her now very perplexed mother.
“Buffy, honey, why don’t you just get some sleep, okay? I know—you’re probably not telling the truth, but it’s far too late for me to bother with trying to figure you out. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow ‘s good!” Buffy was still beaming falsely as she led her mother out of the room.
As soon as Joyce left, Buffy practically ran back to the bed and dove in, panting from sheer fear. God…her mom had been thisclose to finding out what really happened. They would have been finding my body for weeks if they knew I was having this major heavy makeout session…with a really, really hot guy…in my room…
She gave out a tiny whimper and buried her head in her pillow, which smelled comfortingly like him—tobacco mixed with leather, soap, and just a little bit of smoke. She inhaled heavily, thinking about the hours she’d been in his arms.
Too bad she wasn’t still there…
After awhile she drifted off again. This sleep, though, was fractured, completely unlike what she’d had when she was lying with him. She didn’t really want to be there—she would’ve much preferred chasing after him and jumping him in his room. But tomorrow was a school day, and she was going to have to do some serious Mom-dodging—however bad it was, she needed her sleep.
~*~
A/N: In case you couldn’t tell, *singsongey voice*, I’m ba-ack! Thanks billions for all the wonderful reviews, I’m glad you guys are enjoying the angstier section of the story. Comedy is coming again—if you want to know what it’ll be centered around, look at the first page *hint hint* =D Cookies to anyone who guesses!
[Reviews - 480]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 4917 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
At bottom