Author's Chapter Notes:
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~*~

Spike came into the diner the day of her birthday, grinning at her. She was working behind the counter instead of waitressing; she loved him to death, but her dad couldn’t understand the concept of taking a break from the diner if his life depended on it.

Hank was bussing tables; when he saw his daughter’s best friend he smiled and said, “Ah, Spike. Nice to see you. Have you eaten yet?”

Spike shook his head and came over to the counter, sitting on one of the bar tables. “You know me, I save all m’ hunger for when I come here.”

Ever the businessman, Hank whipped out his paper pad. “What’ll it be, then?”

He glanced lazily over at Buffy, his fingers playing with a cigarette. “I think the birthday girl knows what I’d like to eat.”

Generally speaking, Buffy didn’t believe in eyes gleaming—because seriously, unless a person was crying, eyes did not gleam. But just then, Spike’s eyes were glinting, and she would’ve sworn it was a wicked-evil glint.

She ducked her head to hide her blush. “Um…pastry?”

“Thanks,” he said, taking it, his fingers brushing against hers. As Hank walked away, he added, “I love this things…so soft, warm, an’ sweet…”

“You’re a pig,” she informed him matter-of-factly, smiling as she handed another customer his coffee. “A big, fat, ugly—“

“Sexy—“

Cute pig,” she finished with a grin.

He looked offended, just as she’d known he would. “I am bloody well not cute!”

“Right.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “So, want anything other than your…pastry?”

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘m not that hungry. Could go for somethin’ sweet from my girl, though.” That last was accompanied by a very Spike-like leer.

“You are so juvenile.” She smacked him with a rag lying on the counter.

“That’s why we’re perfect together,” Spike replied, before sliding off the stool. “I gotta run—promised that demonic boss of mine I’d get there early. See you later, yeah?”

She nodded, wishing more than she’d wished anything before in her short life that she could just kiss him. It would be so easy, so sweet…

He was thinking the same thing; she could read it in him like most people would read a book. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I know.” She moved forward and kissed him on the cheek, just as she had before this whole thing had started—but this time her lips molded themselves into her skin, turning the peck into something sensual and promising.

She smiled when he looked at her with burning eyes. “See you tonight.”

~*~

The plan was for him to come around five in the evening, well after Hank and Joyce were to have left for the long, much-anticipated art showing, and well before they would come home. Spike had thought the movie plan was a good idea, and had promised to swing by the video store before he came to her house.

That left Buffy standing in the middle of her living room, wearing jeans and a tank top and feeling very, very nervous.

What if he showed up in a suit? Not that she’d really mind, because there was absolutely nothing bad about Spike in a suit, but…what if? She’d be way underdressed. And that was bad. Even if they were in her house, and they were going out, it was still bad. Plus, what if he brought a really icky movie, like War of the Worlds or something? She was so not in the mood to watch stuff blow up…

After about ten minutes she was forced to face the fact that she was kidding herself. She wasn’t nervous about her clothes or the movie. To be honest, she wasn’t really nervous about anything.

She just felt sad because it was her birthday, and none of her friends had so much as bothered to call.

It was ridiculous, really. She knew that Willow, Faith, Oz and the gang were all busy. Given that their group of friends was tiny to the point of being ridiculous, she really shouldn’t have been complaining about the lack of birthday wishes.

Except…this was the first year no one had even acknowledged it.

At four-thirty, a knock sounded on the door. She opened it, grinning to find Spike standing on the doorstep, looking sheepish.

“Would it be completely idiotic to admit that I left work early for this?”

She laughed; he had taken off his suit jacket, but he still wore the pants, shirt, and tie. “That eager to get me alone, huh?” she asked smugly.

He moved into the house and shut the door, pushing her against it in the same way he had less than a month ago, that night of their first kiss. “This answer your question?” he murmured, caressing her through her clothes.

“Mmm,” she moaned, leaning up to kiss him. “This definitely makes up for the suckiness that was my day.”

“What?” He pulled away at that, concern in her eyes. “’s your birthday, kitten. What happened?”

“Nothing, really,” she demurred, eager to turn the attention back to their movie night goodness. “It’s just…no one called or anything, that’s all. Stupid teenager stuff.”

He snorted. “You think adults grow outta that? I’d be downright hurt ‘f Xander didn’t treat me to his entire bar on my birthday.”

That made her roll her eyes. “You know you have issues, right?”

“You’d better believe it,” he said, wriggling his eyes mischievously.

She pushed him away half-heartedly, smiling almost in spite of herself. “You’re a dork.”

“And you’re adorable,” he purred, kissing her neck. “Don’t worry ‘bout your mates, yeah? Bet they’ve got a surprise planned for tomorrow, or somethin’ like that.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said doubtfully. They broke apart and moved towards the living room, his hand staying on her arm in a comforting gesture. “So, what movie did you bring?”

“I brought a few, actually.” He held up the bag he’d been carrying; in it were three or four DVDs. “All of them soppy teen flicks, so no worries on that score.”

She laughed. “I bet you loved explaining that one to the store-person.”

“Oh, of course.” Spike plopped down on the couch and grabbed an M&M from the bowl on the coffee table. “We’ve got a right nice setup here.”

Buffy grabbed The Perfect Score, which looked the least “soppy” to her, and glanced at the table. She’d laid out candy, soda, chips…anything and everything in the world that was fattening currently resided on that table. “What can I say?” she said lightly, putting the DVD in. “I like food.”

He laughed and they curled up on the couch, both staring over-intently at the opening credits. Buffy frantically tried to ignore the fact that as soon as she’d opened the door, she’d learned that coat-less suit-wearing Spike was even hotter than just plain old suit-wearing Spike…and that now that they were curled up on the couch, she really wanted to show him just how much she appreciated his hurrying.

She was also coming to realize that she probably shouldn’t have worn a tank top. It was red, and she thought it was cute, but it showed a lot of skin—skin that Spike was glancing at every other second.

It was ridiculous. They’d been together, in a secretive sort of way, for almost two weeks now. They’d done enough heavy petting and naughty talking to be completely comfortable with each other, but at the same time, they both still went nuts when a situation was even the tiniest bit sexy.

Like right now.

Almost in spite of herself, Buffy deliberately scooted closer. Her hand came to rest on his thigh.

“I could easily get used to this,” she remarked, moving her hand in circles.

He went rigid, and she’d known he would. A small, smug smile was about to make its way to her lips when she felt his fingers caressing her bare shoulder, dipping near her collarbone but never quite touching her breasts. “Likewise, Blondie,” he said lightly, keeping his eyes on the movie.

Fine, then. Two could play that game. “I mean,” she continued, “It’s just so comfortable, you know? Me, you, a movie…yummy stuff to eat…” She moved to his inner thigh, now, her fingers almost trembling as she touched him.

They’d never done this before, and it was starting to almost scare her. Not because she didn’t want to, but because once they started, she knew it would be almost impossible to stop.

In retrospect, they really should have locked the door.

Because just as his hand reached her shirt and began to slide the fabric upwards, exposing her stomach to the room, the front door flew open and the bulk of her friends and family rushed inside, screaming, “Surprise!”

Buffy and Spike both froze as everyone in the room grew silent—before Cordelia, who’d apparently been dragged there by Doyle, voiced what they were all thinking:

“Oh my God!

~*~

A/N: Evil? Me? Oh, yeah ;) But I have the next update written, and reviews would make it go up faster…





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