Ch. 2: Dining Pleasures
After Buffy had left for college, William had decided to start anew, not allow himself to waste away because she was gone. He'd allowed his small group of friends to make some changes to his appearance to parallel the changes he was hoping to make inside. It hadn't fully worked; inside he was still the shy poet and musician who found beauty around him but was hesitant to share it. He was still the internally rebellious youth, not wanting to be like everyone else but wanting to be loved by everyone else. He was still the quiet athlete, running on the soccer field and keeping the team moving without being the showy goal-maker. He was still the same.
But outside? Outside he was completely different. Platinum blond hair, contacts, black leather. Nothing he wasn't comfortable with, but not what others expected. He had gotten lots of compliments, though the new look still didn't give him the confidence to share his poetry or tell the love of his life his feelings.
He ran his fingers through his hair. Would she like the new look, his new hair color? His contacts? Was he stupid in allowing his friend Xander convince him to change his look? He sighed, shaking those thoughts from his head. There was nothing he could do about it now.
He took a final look at himself in the mirror. Blue shirt, black slacks--the basic look. He remembered how Harmony, flighty thing who'd clearly been interested in him, had gushed over this shirt. Though he didn't appreciate the constant fawning, he was grateful for the fashion help. He hoped she hadn't been exaggerating. A final stretch, cracking his neck in preparation for a night of unrequited love, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
***
The fourth outfit thrown haphazardly on the bed, Buffy scrutinized her near naked body, trying to figure out what she should wear. She was already clad in her new red bra and matching thong--secret tribute to William's favorite color--but she wasn't sure what to wear over it. While pondering, she looked over her body, making sure her body was still attractively tan from her recent visit to the tanning salon and smooth from her recent visit to the waxing castle. Not that she planned on showing all this to William, but a girl had to be prepared.
She rummaged through her closet once again and pulled out a black mini-skirt and a dark red top with a cowl neck--strategically created to slide sexily over one's shoulder if one so desired. Smoothing her hair and putting the final touches of gloss on her lips, she decided that this was the outfit.
And now the shoes...
***
William stood nervously at the door of the Summers home. It's not like he hadn't gone there millions of times for the same reason, picking up Buffy to go somewhere and not date, but every time he got the swirling eddies of nerves reminding him of his feelings. Even when he appeared calm, it was an appearance alone; Buffy never knew how much he agonized over her nearness, her clean scent, her warmth. He breathed deeply and then rang the doorbell.
***
"Oh, shit!" Buffy cried out, in the middle of heaps of black shoes. She pulled out a pair and then quickly barreled down the stairs. She took a moment to compose herself and then opened the door.
Buffy saw William, glasses-free, spiked and bleached hair, looking absolutely delectable. She could barely breathe, he looked so hot. "Fuck," she thought to herself.
William saw Buffy, golden hair and body glowing with beauty, her shirt slightly sliding off her shoulder to expose the creaminess of her skin, making him ache to taste it. "Fuck," he thought to himself.
They both stared wide-eyed at each other for what seemed like hours. It ended up being Buffy's mom to break the silence. "Hello, William. It's good to see you again," she said as she walked down the stairs to greet him. "You've made some changes. They look good on you." Mrs. Summers approached them both and then put a welcoming hand on William's arm.
"Hi, Mrs. Summers. It's good to see you again." William smiled at her, thankful for the distraction.
"So you guys are going out tonight? Buffy's been so busy even in her supposed vacation at home. She's just been coming and going all day." Joyce smiled affectionately at her daughter.
William inwardly groaned. He had hoped that maybe she'd have singled him out in her invitation, but he realized that it was merely wishful thinking. Expected, of course, but he'd had his hopes.
"Yes, mom. We're trying out that new Italian place over by the park." Buffy thanked her mom for her timing. She felt awkward, his look completely throwing her for a loop. She'd always thought of William as cute, her physical attraction to him only second to her ability to feel so connected and comfortable with him. But now? Not that attraction was skyrocketing and going beyond the earth's atmosphere. She felt her cheeks flushing, her body singing with the desire to run her fingers through his hair, feel his body on hers. She'd never felt this way so quickly, and it embarrassed her.
"Oh, yes. I've heard great things about that place. I've also heard it's quite romantic," Joyce said innocently, furtively watching for their reactions. Besides the obvious crush that William had had on her daughter for years, Joyce had had suspicious that her daughter was more than willing to return those feelings. She was merely putting the thoughts in their heads. She smiled when both faces blushed.
"Um, yeah. Well that's not why I chose it," Buffy said quickly, not wanting William to think she'd orchestrated some kind of seduction.
And once again, William's hopes dropped over the cliff of hope and flung itself into the deep waters of despair and self-pity.
"Well, I'm going out as well. I've got to finish setting up for the gallery gala tomorrow. I'll probably be late, so don't be worried if I'm not home by the time you get back," Joyce said, turning to go back up the stairs.
"Oh, okay. Have fun," Buffy called out.
"Goodnight, Mrs. Summers," William said politely.
"Have fun, you two," she responded before entering her bedroom and closing the door.
"Well, you wanna get going?" Buffy asked, grabbing her purse and keys.
"Yeah. Fine." William turned to let Buffy exit first and then closed the door behind them.
"So, still got the honkin' minivan, hey?" Buffy teased as they walked up to the big car.
"Well, it takes me where I need to go. And, you know, roomy for the nights with ladies," William teased, trying to put forth a cocky façade. If he could just keep pretending that he was confident, maybe one day he actually would be.
Buffy wondered how much truth was behind his words. With his bleached hair and contacts, he seemed so different, so confident. She wasn't sure how much he even thought about her. "Lots of dates, huh? Harmony still beating all the others down to be with you?" she joked lightly, hoping he'd scoff at the suggestion.
"Yeah, but I did go on a few dates with her."
Buffy's pit of despair began growing exponentially. She looked at the cars passing by out the window to hide her disappointment. "You did? She must have been thrilled. Are you guys dating now?" She hoped her voice didn't show much emotion.
"No, nothing like that. We went out a few times." "Because she had blond hair like you," he thought silently. "I mean, she's nice and all, a little flaky but not really my type--that's all." He noted the lack of emotion in her voice and braced himself for a night that would end full of friendship but empty of romantic love.
"Oh? And what exactly is your type?" Buffy knew she was asking for heartache in broaching the subject, but she couldn't resist the question he had set up. She wanted to know, if only to figure out how she could still attract him.
William swallowed nervously. "You," he wanted to scream out; he wanted to stop driving, pull over to the side of the road, and kiss her passionately. Instead, he just forced out a laugh and tried to say something witty. "Oh, you know. The body of Charlize Theron with the sexuality of Salma Hayek and the intelligence of Virginia Woolf with a little bit of Mia Hamm's strength. You know. The perfect girl."
Buffy laughed brightly, trying to cover her sinking heart. Salma Hayek? Though he had rambled off a few different women, this one actress stuck in her mind. Salma Hayek was gorgeous and dark in complexion. If that was his type, she wasn't even in the running. She was thankful when they finally pulled into a space at the restaurant. She stepped out of the car quickly and glanced at her reflection in the car window. Frowning at how disconsolate she already looked, she pasted on a smile, determined to look her best even if she felt crappy.
William waited a moment after turning off the ignition. He'd been so tempted to tell her how he felt that it had unnerved him. Maybe he was just tired of pretending his feelings were only of friendship; maybe the past months without her had made him eager to make some kind of change, effect some kind of drastic action to propel their relationship one way or another. He almost didn't care if it meant cutting off the friendship, because at least then he'd have tried, had made his mark instead of silently ebbing into the darkness. Almost. He opened his door and then joined her in entering the restaurant.
***
"So, what happened to your glasses?" Buffy asked after they'd ordered. The restaurant was extremely romantic, with dimmed lights and slow violins and flickering candlelight. She felt almost silly now, convinced that he merely saw her as an old friend, and was trying to get back to that friendly comfortable chatting that they used to be so good at.
"Oh, just got together with a few friends, and we all decided that we'd do a little something for our senior year. So I got contacts and did the hair. Do you think it looks funny?" he asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.
"No, you look great. You have really nice eyes," she said studying him. She felt the need to be honest, the way she usually was with him. Pretending that she didn't notice only made her feel like she was on a date, and she didn't want to trick herself into thinking that way. "I mean, I like your glasses, too--the whole intellectual look going for you--but the contacts look good. They give you a different look. You know, the Clark Kent/Superman deal. William by day-- by night? We'll have to com up with a nickname." She smiled again, still staring at his face. "Guess I'll have to forget about my rip-off-his-glasses-and-kiss-him fantasy," she thought to herself. She smirked, remembering how she'd dreamed up an elaborate fantasy of seducing him in a classroom where the glasses where haphazardly strewn on the floor.
Feeling her eyes on him, William looked down and toyed with his napkin, wishing that the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant was being fully used instead of merely mocking him with what he couldn't have. Finally he glanced up at her, only to see a slight grin on her face. Had she been joking when she'd complimented him? It angered him, making his temper flare his confidence. She'd just have to realize what she was missing.
"Well, lots of birds have been complimenting me lately. Seems senior year might be my lucky year. I mean, not that the girls haven't already been after me," he crowed, changing his posture to slouch self-assuredly. He flicked his tongue out over his teeth. "Yup, they just can't stay away."
"God, give it up already, Mr. No date," she spat out, suddenly irked by the very thing that usually turned her on. She didn't like thinking about where his tongue had been. She subconsciously frowned, and Spike noticed.
"You know, it's not that incredible to think that girls would like me," he said softly, trying to sound snarky but simply sounding wounded.
She looked up at his tone, trying to figure out if he were still teasing. "Yeah, well, it's not like dating makes your life perfect or anything."
"Bitter, much?" Spike questioned, wondering how much Angel had hurt her. She'd never fully gone into details, but he was surprised at the bite in her words.
"Yeah, well, let's just say I haven't yet been with a guy who treats me the way I feel I should be treated. You know, I'm not asking for much--the ability to have an engaging conversation, the ability to feel like you're understood, the ability to feel attractive and attracted--you know, the usual." "I could have that with you," she thought, sipping from her drink.
"I could be that for you," William thought miserably. He drank his soda to keep him from wallowing too much in self-pity. "Well, I guess you just have bad taste in guys."
"This coming from the guy who dated Harmony?" Buffy scoffed. "Man, I can't believe you actually dated her."
"You know, she's a nice girl, even if she is a little slow. They can't all be like you." William's eyes widened when he realized what he'd said. "Uh, I mean, since you seem to think you're the best that's out there," he covered quickly. He looked at her to see if she'd noticed his slip.
Her heart had briefly lifted in hearing his compliment but sagged once again as it sat comfortably under the umbrella of friendship. All these ideas ping-ponging through her mind were starting to give her a headache. Without realizing it, she began rubbing her temples and sighing lightly.
"Are you okay? Do you have a headache?" William inquired. The night seemed to be flowing kind of awkwardly, and he hoped she wouldn't call it an early night.
"What? Oh, no, I'm just a little tired. Traveling and all," she replied quickly.
"Do you, uh, do you want to head back early? If you're not feeling well?" William asked unwillingly.
"Huh? No! I mean, no, I'm fine. I think it'll be better if I just eat something, maybe drink some caffeine or something. No big," she reassured him. She smiled at him and was rewarded with his smile, making her insides ooze just a little.
And then, Buffy decided. Her relationship with William had always been good because she hadn't worried about being someone different. Her comfort with him was largely based on her confidence when she was around him; she knew he wouldn't treat her poorly or laugh at her thoughts because they'd developed a strong friendship first. Angel, Parker, Riley--all those other guys had pursued her actively, had made it clear that they were only interested in her as a girlfriend--and that had interesting connotations to them. William had made her feel like a person, someone whose presence was more than just a pretty face and a sex-giving body. William was different. Maybe she was different around William? Either way, she was going to fight for this; she was going to see if there was a possibility for something more. Not just yet, not here at the restaurant, but later, at the park--Buffy was going to push the limits of William's shyness, see if he'd be willing to venture towards a different kind of friendship. And if he was too shy? Well, then she was going to kick him into gear.
She smiled again, satisfied with her plan.
Just then, the food arrived.
"Wow, this looks amazing!" She gasped as the large bowls of pasta, side salads, and freshly baked bread appeared before them.
"Yeah, looks right tasty," he agreed. "Bon Appetite!"
The next few moments were in silence, both overwhelmed by how good the food was.
"Is it good?" William asked after a while.
"Amazing. Good food, good company--what more could a girl ask for?" Buffy proclaimed, smiling coyly at him.
William blushed and tried to cover his delight. "Well, you know, that's what all the girls say when they're with me," he boasted, putting on a cocky façade to hide his lack of confidence.
"So you keep telling me. You know, you got out of my question earlier, but maybe you'll answer now. What is your type? And no comparisons to Hollywood, because that's just not real." Buffy stopped eating for a moment and looked at him directly, implying that she wasn't going to let this go.
William swallowed and glanced at her, seeing her face set with resolve. "What do you mean, type? I mean, it's not really that I have specific qualities she has to have. It's more about sensing the connection, knowing that she'll laugh with me and not at me, that she'll understand me and still love me. You know, all that sentimental rot," he said lightly, trying not to get too involved in his answer.
"But you don't have any particular preferences? You have to. Everyone does. So, I'm going to lead you through a series of questions, and you have to answer with whatever comes to mind first. Got it?" She innocently took another bite of pasta as her mind schemed questions to get him thinking. Plus, she still wanted to know if he had even the slightest bit interest in her. Salma Hayek aside, there had to be some truth to all the rumors that William loved her.
"Come on, Buffy. Is this really necessary? I mean, I know--I will know--when she's the one. The one I want to date and cherish and love. I don't need questions to help me figure it out." William defiantly stabbed at his pasta, hoping she wouldn't keep on this. He was afraid that his feelings might start to leak, and a leak would ultimately lead to the dam bursting all over her.
"No, it'll be fun. And you can ask me the same questions afterwards, if you want." Buffy smiled and wiped her mouth delicately on her napkin. "Ready?"
"If I must." He ran his fingers through his hair and then gestured to her to begin.
"Ooh, that's nice," Buffy noted as she saw his fingers rumple up his hair. "Maybe I'll get to do that," she thought, smiling. "Okay. Here goes. Blonde or brunette?"
"Blonde."
"Tall or short?"
"Short."
"Brown or blue?"
"Neither."
"Green or hazel?"
"Hazel."
"Older or younger?"
"Older."
"Perky or large?"
"Perky--wait, huh?"
Buffy laughed. "Well, you knew what I was talking about, and you chose quickly, so you know what you want." She laughed again at his flummoxed state. Buffy smiled at him and at herself; she was doing pretty well so far--better than she'd expected.
"Now you know this is a biased quiz," he started, waving his fork at her. "You're not asking the full spectrum of possibilities, so though my answers may point in one direction, it may be by default."
"Even if it is biased, it still says something." She stressed the word 'something' and looked directly at him, searching.
He looked away. "But what?" he muttered softly. Shaking his head, he said, "Okay, it's my turn. You ready for my questions?"
"Always ready," she said pointedly, batting her lashes.
William ignored the butterflies that had suddenly begun thrashing inside him. "Here we go. Blonde or brunette?"
"Blonde, but it doesn't have to be real."
"Brown or blue?"
"Blue all the way, baby."
"Tall or short?"
"Somewhere in between."
"Bulky or lean?"
"Lean, and with a six pack."
"Length or girth?"
"Both, you naughty boy!" she retorted, laughing. "God, I can't believe you said that!"
"Oh, but it's okay for you to talk about perky breasts?" William shot back, smiling. His butterflies were now doing a jitterbug inside--she seemed to have chosen all of his characteristics--unwittingly, he was sure, but it made a man hope. He chuckled with her and gave her a contented smile.
"Oh, that's it. That's the smile," Buffy thought to herself, his soft lips curving nicely and just begging to be kissed. Her insides began to swirl again, creating psychedelic masterpieces inside in tribute of that smile. "Oh, boy."
"So, are you up for dessert?" William asked after the waiter took away their plates. "Their dessert tray looked pretty tantalizing. We saw it when we walked in, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I remember. I'm pretty full, but I feel like I should. Maybe we can share something?" she asked simply, hoping he'd say yes.
"Uh, yeah, sure, if that's what you want."
"That's what I want. What did you want?"
"Whatever you want is fine. It all looked good to me." He couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Even if they never became more than friends, he simply loved being with her. Her presence, her joy in little things, just made him happy.
"Well, how about the hazelnut tartuffo? It's got chocolate and ice cream with raspberries all around. Ooh, yeah. That's what I want." Her eyes sparkled in anticipation, and she licked her lips.
"That's what I want," Spike thought as he watched her tongue flick out and wet her lips. "Oh, yeah. That's what I want." He felt himself harden, and he closed his eyes tightly to will it away.
"Hey, you okay?" Buffy asked, having seen him clench his eyes shut.
"Oh, sure. I'm fine. Just got a slight cramp in my leg. Too much soccer the other day," William responded. "Cramp indeed. And soccer might just become my codeword..."
Soccer made Buffy think of his six pack made her think of licking it made her think of going lower made her think of-- "Hey, I'm gonna run to the ladies room. If the waiter comes back, will you order the dessert?"
"Sure." He watched as she left, smelled her faint scent as she passed, soaked in the little shake of her ass
as she walked away. And, of course, his erection returned to mock him. Sliding his hands under the table, he reached into his pants to readjust himself.
In the bathroom, Buffy studied herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little flushed, no doubt from her dirty thoughts as much as the warmth of the restaurant. She adjusted her hair a little and reapplied her gloss. She placed her hands on her cheeks, the coldness of her palms bringing a chill to her body. Her nipples began to harden to the chill. "I guess that could be good," she thought to herself. She peed quickly, washed her hands with cold water to keep up the nipplage--because she was evil like that--and returned to the table.
"Did you order? Wow, it seems colder for some reason." Buffy sat in her sat and held her back erect, slightly pushing her breasts out and keeping her arms stiffly at her sides, looking like she was cold.
William noticed her nipples, and his erection pushed against his pants. He breathed out slowly, trying to calm himself. "You're cold? Do you want my jacket--except I don't have a jacket," he said slowly, kicking himself for his stupidity.
"No, it's okay. I'm sure if I just rub myself I'll get warmer," she stated. She began luxuriously running her palms over her arms and tossing her hair back as she tightened her body. In pushing her arms close to her body, her draped neckline began sliding slowly off her shoulder.
William was desperately looking for something to do. There was no food to distract him; his soda was nothing but ice, and Buffy was looking so damn sexy that he was afraid he was going to explode with all the sexual tension building inside of him. He sucked out a piece of ice from his glass and began chewing it to let out his frustration.
Buffy watched him as his tongue poked at the ice to get it in his mouth. She shivered, thinking about how that would feel against her lips, her neck, her--other areas. And the cold of ice combined with the heat of his tongue? If nothing happened tonight, she was going to have to take care of it when she got home.
Finally, the dessert came, and both were eager for the distraction. Of course, they were sharing, so both had to lean in slightly to partake of the delectable dessert. Buffy spooned a portion of it and slowly licked it before putting the whole spoon in her mouth. She imagined that she was kissing William, the cold ice cream his tongue, and she savored the taste. William watched as she ate her ice cream in a way that made him lick his own lips. He shoved the spoon in his mouth to give him something to feel.
Any innocent observer would've wondered what was going on under the table to merit such steamy eating, but the two were completely lost in their own fantasies at this point, too embarrassed and too horny to talk.
When there was nothing left of the meal, they finally made eye contact.
"So, guess we both liked the dessert," Buffy murmured, embarrassed by her scandalous thoughts.
"Yeah, must have. Licked the plate clean," he commented, blushing at the thoughts he'd been having about eating ice cream off her breasts.
"Check, please!"
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