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Ch. 16: A Concert of Emotions

She arrived at his apartment a little early; rather than burst in before expected, Buffy took a stroll around his block. She looked up at the various brownstones lining the street, the little park with its slightly dilapidated playground, the corner newsstand with its Playboys next to The Wall Street Journal. This is what he saw every morning when he left for work. Did he notice it the way she did? The way the blue paint had chipped and worn away to create a shadow of a Rene Magritte painting? Did he watch the corner nuts man scoop and turn his peanuts rhythmically, as if creating a symphony of nuts and car horns and heel taps on the sidewalk? It was unlikely; her thoughts always seemed very odd and almost crazy to others. But what if he did? She sighed and shook her head slightly. What if he didn't? Really, what difference did it make? Unfortunately, it did seem to matter. She really wanted him to see those things and yet wanted him not to--wanted him to confirm her suspicions that their connection really was merely a construction of her deluded and romantic mind. Her internal insecurities and fatalistic mindset were starting to make her dizzy. She found herself in front of his place once more and slowly made her way up the stairs.

And fell in love with the building. Marble stairs, polished wood banisters, old ornate iron numbers on the doors, she felt very comfortable here, sensing a kinship with the building, if such a thing were possible. Of course she would love his building. She sighed once more and then waited for Spike to come to the door.

"Hey! Come on in," he said, awkwardly inviting her in before running his hand quickly through his hair. Warming his neck with his hand to avoid fidgeting, Spike said shyly, "Welcome to my home. Feel free to take a look around. I'm just going to finish things up in the kitchen." He gave her a quick smile before returning to his culinary arts. He pretended to be busy cooking, stirring occasionally and throwing things into the trash, but he couldn't help watching Buffy as she casually checked out his place.

"Nice place," Buffy commented, not wanting to sound overly complimentary, even though she was overwhelmed by how much she immediately she loved the place. She ran her fingers lightly against the vast collection of books neatly organized in the built-in bookshelves. She smiled to herself as she observed the alphabetical-by-author order and silently ooh-ed at his eclectic mix of books. Nodding at the numerous books she'd read and itching to read those she hadn't, she forced herself to go to the kitchen and help out with dinner.

---

"Wow. That was really good." Buffy nodded her head for emphasis, staring at her clean plate. "I mean, damn. That was really good food."

He smiled at her and then took a sip of wine. "I'm glad you liked it. You should come over more often. Be my guinea pig for recipes I'm trying out. I'm always looking to try something new." He smiled warmly at her while standing up to take her plate.

"No, I'll do it. You cooked. It's the least I can do." She started towards him and tried to take the plate away.

He just grinned and kept walking, leading her towards the sink. He enjoyed having her so near and simply relished her light touch on his arm. "Actually, we should get going. Let's just leave these. I can take care of it later." After putting the plate down, he gently squeezed her hand and then moved away.

"Well, I'll just come back afterwards and help you clean up then." She shrugged triumphantly and tried not to think about what she had just said, how she had agreed to come back to the apartment, help clear the table, stay with him till the wee hours of the night. She blamed it on his touch and the illogical reason for still sensing his hand on hers.

"It's a deal." He winked at her and then washed his hands quickly. "Ready to go?"

"Ready."

--

They easily chatted while walking to the park, discussing their jobs, the various people who walked by and the stories they made about them. It was a pleasant walk, not marked by anything spectacular but by their simple ease with each other's presence. Somehow, that subtlety was more intense than anything else. With so much time before the concert, they decided to wander a little and grab some refreshment.

"I'll just go grab us something and be right back. Sound good?" Spike said, enjoying the relaxed feeling of the interaction.

"Sounds great. I'll just be here." Buffy gestured around her. "I'll try not to wander."

"Yeah, don't make me come find you." He winked and then headed towards the drink stations.

Spike paid the vendor and grasped two cold drinks in his hands. Nodding thanks, he turned to weave his way back to Buffy's side.

He could see Buffy waiting for him, attempting to look nonchalant but occasionally looking around for him--he knew she didn't like appearing alone. He headed towards her and smiled brilliantly when she looked his way. She smiled back and turned to meet him.

And instantly collided with a large chest.

"Ugh--excuse me, but--" Buffy's words stopped instantly when she looked up into a familiar face. "Riley!" she said, surprise registering on her face.

Spike's eyebrow lifted immediately. He'd been ready to jump in and play the protective boyfriend, ready to give the dirty glare and receive the look of gratefulness from Buffy herself--but her recognition threw him for a loop.

"Buffy, oh man, it's been ages. Wow, I--" Riley stopped for a moment to give her a rather long bear hug.

Spike lifted his other eyebrow. He moved forward to make sure this Riley knew he was there with Buffy.

"Buffy, you look wonderful! I had no idea you were in New York now. You should have called me or something." Riley glanced over at Spike but didn't say anything to acknowledge him.

"Well, I've been rather occupied--you know, moving to a new place, new job, all that." Buffy smiled and then gestured towards Spike. "Riley, this is Spike. Spike, Riley. He's my...Spike. Yeah." She tried to cover her hesitation with a wave of her hand, but her slight blush belied the casual gesture. "And Riley, Riley's an old friend of mine, and--"

"Just an old friend? I thought we were gonna get married." Riley flashed a smile towards Spike, still feeling out their relationship. "It's nice to meet you. How do you know Buffy?"

"Oh, Spike and I met at the beach this past summer, and we both just moved to the city for jobs." Buffy decided that she'd rather keep their relationship indefinite; for some reason, she didn't want to hear Spike call her just a friend, even though that's clearly what she was--platonic, non-gay friend. Geez.

Spike raised his eyebrow again; he'd been waiting to hear her identification of their relationship. He decided to take this lack of definition as a good sign--it gave him the freedom to act in any way he chose. He handed Buffy her drink and allowed himself to relax a little.

But his relaxation was fairly short-lived. Riley was using Buffy's lack of definition in his own favor, taking every opportunity to touch her arm gently or lean forward into her space. Spike's jaw was clenched in conflicting emotions--jealousy that he was touching her, indicating that they'd had a fairly intimate history, anger that she was allowing him to show such ease, and disappointment that she wasn't treating him any differently.

It was probably wrong that Buffy was enjoying herself so much, but she'd been annoyed earlier today when Spike had attracted so much attention. It was only natural for her to enjoy the same kind of attention, expected that she would encourage such comfortable flirting, assumed that she would capitalize on the undercurrent of competition that was zinging around her petite body. Noting that Spike's face had been tense with jealousy for a fairly long time, she turned to him, gently resting her hand on his arm, and said, "You haven't been to the Met since you've been here, right? Riley was just mentioning that he'd seen their most recent exhibit. You wanna go see it?" She batted her eyes innocently, her feminine wiles comfortably playing both men.

Spike's lips curled into a smile. "Sure thing. Maybe do a day in Central Park at the same time?" He reached out to brush away a stray hair, marking his own intimacy with Buffy through the simple touch.

Buffy didn't even want Riley--he'd been somewhat of a bore in college, and it seemed that he was now a full-fledged bore. His military sensibilities and traditional ways of life had been attractive in her chaotic college days, but now it just seemed dull and uninviting. And, of course, she convinced herself, she didn't want Spike. They had a good--no great--friendship. He was like her hot gay (but definitely not gay) best friend; she could spend all her time with him, enjoy the connection they had, and know that she wouldn't fall in love with him, right? Their soap opera history would keep their relationship platonic. Flirting with him was fun, but completely innocent, right? Her flawed logic in place, she smiled brightly at both men, who each slightly growled at the other.

"Buffy, I could show you the exhibit. Since I've seen it already, I could give you a personal tour." Riley moved closer, as if his mere presence would help her change her mind.

Buffy noted his movements and did her best not to grimace. She remembered that tactic well--and had the same reaction to it, one of near claustrophobia. She noticed that Spike was about to answer, and she pre-empted his answer with her own. "No, it's okay. I remember how you used to get kinda bored with museums, and Spike and I have been planning to go anyway. Right?" She turned to Spike for confirmation, her hand still lightly holding his arm.

Spike smiled triumphantly. "Yeah, one of the things on our list."

Buffy arched her eyebrow at that but didn't contradict him. Turning to Riley, she said, "But maybe we can just grab dinner some time?"

Riley smiled triumphantly. "That sounds great. Why don't you give me your number?"

Spike, not to be overlooked, checked his watch and then said, "Hey, the concert's gonna get started soon. You wanted to get close up, right?"

"Oh my god--totally lost track of time. Yeah, let's get going. Give me a call sometime, Riley." She quickly scribbled her number on a piece of paper. I might be out of town this week on business, so don't call before then." Letting Spike lead her into the park, Buffy waved goodbye.

--

The park was starting to get crowded; people gathered around the vendors, buying food and stocking up for their outdoor music enjoyment. Buffy’s whole demeanor exuded excitement; her smile lit up her face, and her body bounced with energy.

"Aren’t you excited? I love outdoor concerts!" she exclaimed as they weaved through the crowds. "Come on, we have to get right up front." She reached out to pull on his shirt but caught his hand instead. Undaunted, she grasped his fingers and continued to plow through the people.

Spike smiled at her energy and allowed the heat of their joined hands course through him. He was trying so hard to play the friend card, but he couldn't help but stare at her beauty and enjoy every touch, every look--and not in a friendly sort way. Still, she didn't seem to notice, and so he merely allowed himself to be pulled along. With Buffy's determination and perseverance, they found themselves a premium spot right by the stage. Getting settled, both relaxed a little.

There was still about half an hour before the concert started, restless people wandering around the park, creating a relaxed but anticipatory atmosphere. They stood in silence for a little, people-watching and enjoying the energy of the moment. Despite the mixture of activity around them, Spike's mind was still focused on Riley and her interaction with him. Trying to sound nonchalant, Spike leaned in and asked, "So you and Riley went to college together?" He kept his voice casual, not wanting to pry but giving her the opportunity to share.

"Yeah, we dated for a little bit, but it just sort of faded. Nice guy, but just not my type." Buffy shrugged noncommittally, as if their relationship had been rather insignificant. She caught his eyes for a little, and her heart began its little spiral of dizziness that seemed to appear when she was near him. She smiled slowly, unable to suppress the silly grin that naturally responded to his presence.

And suddenly, life seemed a little brighter. Spike smiled down at her, infusing his eyes with affection and hope. Buffy faltered, eyes lowered, and she nervously licked her lips. Not wanting to push, Spike looked away and simply enjoyed the budding hope in his heart.

They lapsed into silence, the crowd starting to thicken with the approaching starting time. They began getting jostled and pushed a little, and Buffy kept giving glaring looks around. Finally, Spike placed his arms on either side of her, resting his hands on the stage and creating a small oasis in the midst of pushy bodies. It seemed to do the trick, and Buffy tried not to notice the sense of security that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She told herself that the rising heat was merely from the growing number of people arriving for the concert and not the fact that she could feel the heat emanating from the lithe body behind her. Keeping her face turned towards the stage, she ignored every message her body was sending her.

Spike knew it was rather risky to put his arms basically around her, but he was just as tired of the shoving. And the slight blush traveling up her neck was enough assurance that his help wasn't unwanted. He smiled again, savoring the light scent of her skin and the softness of her hair that occasionally slid across his neck. The night was wonderful, crisp but not cold, and there wasn't anywhere else he wanted to be.

--

The concert was amazing, the performer banging out songs on the piano, entertaining the masses with amusing anecdotes, and somewhere along the way, Buffy had leaned into Spike's chest. Somewhere along the way, they'd begun swaying to the music together. So when the haunting notes of a love ballad began to float by, it seemed natural that the arms once resting on the stage now rested around her waist. And it seemed natural that, somehow, she found her hands resting on top of his. Naturally it was merely the spell of the music and the crush of bodies surrounding them--not an irresistible attracting drawing them together. So naturally, when the slow song was over and the music began to pick up the pace, they'd step apart and resume their earlier stance of merely standing together instead of the way they were currently standing together.

Except not. Except his arms around her felt so damn good that she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Except she didn't want to think about what was right or supposed to be or anything like that--she just wanted to be. In his arms. No matter how she twisted it, no matter how many times she described him as a platonic non-gay friend from the past, she could not deny how comfortable, how right it felt being in his arms.

And Spike was perfectly content to keep her there. He didn't question the way she'd started to move into his arms, didn't wonder at the way she began to snuggle into his chest, didn't even blink when her hands began sliding over his. He knew it was going to come to an end eventually, so he was going to enjoy the now as much as possible.

But the now came to an end with the concert. There were no more excuses for why they were standing in each other's arms, especially when the roadies began clearing the stage and giving them dirty looks. Slowly, they began to move apart and away from the stage. Even walking they stayed close, inviting the occasional brushes of thigh against thigh, shoulder against shoulder, hand against hand. They didn't say much, not wanting to shatter the sensuality of the night. Before they wanted it, they were in front of Buffy's apartment building.

Finally, under the weak yellow of the light outside, under the muted stars of the sky, they turned to look at each other. There was heat crackling all around them, yearning to blaze further, but neither was quite ready to give in yet.

"Concert was great," Buffy said, awkwardly beginning the conversation.

"That it was. Outdoor concerts are always nice." He ran his fingers through his hair, not wanting to fidget.

Buffy watched his fingers sliding through his hair...sexy. She bit her lip.

And the fullness of her lip puckered under that bite. Sexy.

"Fuck it," she thought to herself, giving in to her desire. "Inviting him up is what a friend would do. We're not talking sex, here." Blinking away the sudden thoughts of sexy bodies and slightly holding her breath, she said to Spike, "You wanna come in for coffee or something?"

Spike smiled broadly, amazed at his good fortune. He knew it didn't mean sex, didn't mean anything, really, except that he'd be able to spend more time with her. "That'd be great."

Buffy ignored the butterflies engaging in wing to wing combat inside of her and slowly moved up the stairs. "It's not complete--I mean, I haven't really made the place mine yet, but eventually it'll happen, I guess. It's not as nice as yours, but it's where I live." She shrugged and grinned a little.

He smiled back and waited as she fumbled with her keys. He was trying to avoid getting his hopes up with the possibility of actually being able to touch her, to hold her without the music as an excuse, but it was difficult.

Buffy finally found her key, threw him a quick smile, and opened the door.

"Cordy!" Surprise was all over her face and her voice in seeing her roommate seated at the kitchen table drinking a diet coke.

"Buffy!" Cordy smiled broadly and then smiled more when she saw Spike enter behind her. "So good to see you," she drawled, not taking her eyes off of the handsome man.

Spike couldn't resist a smile, and he grinned widely in response, though not without including Buffy in the smile.

Buffy tried not to roll her eyes--clearly the man was an incurable flirt. "Cordy, this is Spike."

Cordy's eyes widened knowingly, and Buffy blushed miserably, hoping that Cordy wouldn't jump to any conclusions. "We just went to a concert in Central Park , and he walked me back, and I thought maybe he'd want something to drink or something before going home, and--"

"So nice to meet you. Did you enjoy the concert?" Cordy interrupted, trying to save her friend from rambling off the deep end. "Have a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"Um, actually," Spike hesitated, wondering if Buffy's babbling indicated a renewed hesitancy on her part. Glancing at her perturbed countenance, he continued and said, "I think I'm going to get going. You guys can catch up--Buffy mentioned she hadn't seen you in a while." He smiled at Cordy and then walked towards Buffy. "Give me a call sometime? Maybe we can do the museum on Sunday?"

Buffy nodded, thankful that he was going--not because she didn't want him here but because, with Cordy here, her reality was catching up with her. Cordy's presence would only make her more awkward, and her small fantasies of yearning looks and quiet but sensual conversation dissipated quickly. She walked with him to her door and gently held his arm. "That sounds perfect. I'll give you a call tomorrow. Thanks again for walking me back." All of a sudden, she snapped her fingers in exasperation. "Oh, wait! I didn't help you with the dishes!"

Spike chuckled. "Don't even worry about it. I forgot--too busy enjoying the evening, I guess."

"Yeah, but you made dinner and everything. I can't believe I didn't even--"

"Hey, just means you'll owe me later." He slowly smiled and touched her cheek lightly. "Yeah, we'll just have to do dinner again, and you'll get your chance."

Buffy nodded, trying not to let her face heat up at his brief touch. "Definitely. You'll have to let me help you next time." Her hand lingered a little on his chest, patting it as if making sure he knew she was sincere.

"I will. Take care." He gave her hand a squeeze, smiled, and held her gaze for a moment before murmuring, "Good night." And then he was gone.

"I'll talk to you later," she called out as he started down the stairs. With a final wave, she watched him disappear and then gently closed the door.

"It's not what you think," Buffy said before turning to face her friend. "He's like my gay best friend."

Cordy snorted unattractively. "Except he's NOT. And he's fucking hot. Damn, Buffy, if I weren't moving out to LA on Monday, I'd--"

"What?" Buffy spun around and stared at her friend. "You're, you're--what?"

"Oops." Cordy smiled innocently. "Okay, so I wasn't really planning on telling you like that, but hey. Guess what? I got the part! Okay, so maybe you don't know what part I'm talking about, since I just found out about it the other day. But whatever. I got the part! And I'm moving out to LA to begin the season! Yay, me!" Cordy's face was lit up by the huge goofy smile.

Buffy eventually got over her shock and ran over to her friend, excitement pouring out of each girl's mouth in the form of incoherent shrieks and babbles and interjections. Finally, the bubbly died down, and Buffy hugged Cordy tightly.

"I'm so happy for you! That's so amazing! You are gonna be amazing." She smiled genuinely. "So tell me about the part!"

"Oh, I play this snobby bitch who actually has layers and is just waiting for someone to peel away at the onion. It's great!" Slowly, Cordy's smile slipped a little.

Buffy noticed immediately. "What? What's wrong? Is there some catch--a porny catch or something?"

Cordy rolled her eyes. "No, stupid. It's a legitimate part. But the thing is, I was planning on selling the condo right away--letting Daddy take care of it. And he's been eager to get rid of this property because the market's really good right now. Which sort of means..." She looked up with expectation.

"I have to move out. Right. Gotcha." Buffy nodded, trying to figure out her options.

"I'm so sorry. It's just that when I called Daddy to tell him about the part, he jumped on the idea of selling the place, and he kinda doesn't know you live here--not that he would care or anything, but it wouldn't make sense to him if--"

"No, no. Don't even worry about it. I'll find some place to crash until I find my own place. I'm really happy for you--this is your big break, the one you've been waiting for." Buffy hugged her again. "Don't worry about me. I'll figure something out."

"Hey," Cordy said, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Maybe you could crash at your hottie's place! Sounds like a nice excuse to wake up to that body, don't you think?" Cordy tried to look innocent, but her rakish grin gave her away.

"Um, hello? Gay best friend?"

"Um, hello? Not gay, and totally hot?"

The girls burst into giggles, and Buffy tried to ignore Cordy's hints and her own secret hopes and fears of the new situation. As they lightly conversed about her new role, Buffy let her mind wander a little, not allowing herself to consider the possibility of staying in Spike's apartment. No, she'd somehow figure it out--surely it wasn't that hard to find a place in New York City , right? Sighing, she eventually said her goodnights and retreated to her bedroom, letting her mind wander a little more in the comfort of the darkness.





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