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~*~
Heads turned and low, disapproving murmurs sounded as Spike slipped into the diner. Careful to keep his eyes away from anyone specific, Spike walked to the counter where Hank stood, drying dishes.
“Hello, Spike,” Hank said genially. “How are you doing today?”
Spike stared at the man in disbelief. Surely no one was that thick? “Well, with the exception of the borderline pornographic pictures outside, it’s all sunshine an’ lollies with me,” he said sarcastically. “Why the buggering hell aren’t you knocking the stuffin’ out of me, Summers?”
Hank gave him a measured look, one that unaccountably made Spike want to squirm. It reminded him that Hank was a good two decades older than Spike himself. “Believe me,” he said, “I would be, if it weren’t for my wife. Joyce pointed out that we knew you kids were getting up to that sort of thing. Having it posted all across town is stretching my restraint, though.”
“’s not doin’ wonders for mine, either,” Spike admitted. “Fucking juvenile prank.”
“Well, that’s another reason I’m not hitting you,” Hank said, a grin starting to form on his face. “I don’t want to give those kids the satisfaction.”
It wasn’t a particularly funny joke, but Spike, having finally caught on to Hank’s game, laughed anyway. “Damn immature, innit?”
“Definitely.” Hank handed him a soda and pastry. “Bet you’re missing my daughter’s idle banter.”
“Not as much as I thought I would be,” Spike said thoughtfully. “S’pose you’ll make a bearable father-in-law.”
The glass Hank had been holding fell to the counter. “What?” he hissed.
He didn’t smirk. Took quite a bit of control, but he didn’t. “Honestly, Mr. Summers, did you think I’d fool about with your daughter ‘f I didn’t plan on spending the rest of my life with her?”
Hank was now blinking rapidly. “I—uh—“
“You did.” Spike shook his head. “What did I ever do to make you think I was like that?”
“Sleep with half of Sunnydale?”
He was blushing. Dammit. “Well, yeah, I did that…”
“Exactly. Joyce may be trusting enough to believe in your good intentions, but I most certainly am not.” Hank gave him a stern look. “I’m not even sure you’re telling me the truth now.”
“Mr. Summers.” Spike leaned forward, still smiling slightly for their audience’s benefit but looking Buffy’s father straight in the eye. “I know Buffy’s underage,” he said bluntly, “An’ I know she’s still very young, in every sense of the word. But I love her, have for awhile now. ‘m not gonna leave her alone—ever. We clear?”
The older man gave him a look that was filled with something suspiciously like respect. “You know,” he said slowly, “I think we are.”
“Right, then.” Spike nodded his head as though he’d been expecting that answer all along, though the truth was that he felt like sagging to the floor in relief. “I’d better be gettin’ back to the office.”
“Probably.” Hank accepted his empty plate and glass. Spike was about to slip off his stool and leave when he said, hesitantly, “Good luck. I know—well, it can’t be easy for you right now. And Buffy cares about you, so I don’t want to see you suffer.”
He smiled. “Thanks, mate.”
The occupants of the diner watched in amazement as the current leper of Sunnydale left the diner whistling.
Of course, the whistling didn’t last long. He missed his girl, for one; the fact that she was stuck in that hellhole of a school didn’t help much, since every time he thought of it he was reminded that she was far too young to be mixed up with him. The fliers that he ripped down as he walked just made the whole thing worse.
Funny how you could have perfection and all it took to fuck it up was a pushy bunch of gits who wouldn’t know love if it ripped their collective heart out and ate it for breakfast.
Spike smiled faintly. Now there was a nice visual.
He knew his girl was young; he knew she had to attend school, and that when their relationship got out things would be difficult for her, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d accepted shit like that a long time ago. But what he hadn’t counted on was pure adolescent spite.
The only teen he’d been around since he was her age was her, and Buffy would never stoop to something so immature as this.
Parental disapproval he could understand—he’d even expected it. Hell, he’d think there was something wrong with Hank if the man hadn’t given him the third degree. But those sodding teens, doing nothing but try to ruin a relationship, pissed him off beyond measure.
When he got back to his office he headed straight for the elevator, deliberately avoiding departments that he knew would be crowded. Generally he was friendly with his coworkers, but right now he wanted to be left alone.
Unfortunately, when the elevator opened to his floor he was greeted with the extremely unwelcome sight of a half-naked Anya about to go down on Xander.
“Holy fuck!” He looked away quickly. “Anyone ever tell you ‘f you’re gonna do it in the workplace, you oughta at least take advantage of your private office?”
“We did,” Anya said cheerfully. “But then we decided to let it air out for awhile, so we came here.”
Spike stared at them incredulously. “You are abso-fucking-lutely insane, did you know?”
“Of course,” Anya said cheerily. “Now, Johnson & Johnson called while you were out. They want you to plan the advertisement for their newest baby lotion. Have fun!”
Spike watched incredulously as Anya abruptly ignored him, focusing instead on the way Xander was nuzzling her neck.
He went into his office and shut the door, burying his head in his hands, unable to feel anything but a kind of weary amusement.
He’d never be able to do that with Buffy—never be able to take risks. Even after she turned eighteen, the May-December stigma would still be hanging over them. It saddened him, made him angry. Fucking stereotypes.
But the thing that upset him the most was how Buffy would react to them. If he, a full-grown man and more than capable of ignoring juvenile pranks, was having trouble dealing with the idiots of Sunnydale…how much she be feeling?
~*~
Anya cocked her head as she watched her friend enter his office. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I almost feel sorry for him.”
“Why?” Xander asked curiously, running his hands down her back.
She pulled away from him a bit. “Well, look at us. You’re eight years younger than I am—we kept our relationship a secret for months because of that.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t have let it get out,” Xander said. “I’m not saying I support what people are saying, Ayn, but they haven’t exactly been careful about things.”
Anya glared at him. “Xander Harris, we’re in the middle of the largest room on this floor, and we were about to have sex that would make a porn star blush! You’re really one to talk.”
“But it’s different for us!” Xander argued. “We’re—I dunno—less reactionary, I guess. Less likely to have people freaking out over us.”
“No,” Anya said sadly, “We’re exactly the same.
“You and I are in love to the point of being crazy…and so are they.”
~*~