Chapter Ten
Spike felt it the moment regret set in for Buffy. He had been holding onto her, unwilling to let her go, not wanting to ruin the perfect blissful moment of holding her after having mind blowing sex with her - scratch that. After having made love to her, the only time in his life he'd ever made love to anyone.
He knew what she'd say if he told her that, she'd say 'Well, you're only twenty-two.' It would also be just another reminder of Doyle and that was something he was looking to avoid. He didn't want to push for the guilt to come. Selfish of him, yes, but he wanted the moment for himself. He wanted her to be right there with him, and for a few blissful minutes, she was.
When she started to move from him, he held her fast and she only succeeded in having his cock slip out of her.
"Spike-"
"No, I don't want to let you go."
"Spike, please," and she heard the strain in her voice, the threat of tears.
"Do it," he whispered. "Let it out. Let it all out."
And surprisingly, she did. She cried while he held her and he let her, it was better than having her run out and fight harder for her later on. No, he wanted her with him when she had these moments, wanted her to be able to let go with him. He hoped, and he was still testing the waters of his theory, that given enough time and allowing him to be there for her and accept that he was not going to go anywhere, that he was there for the long haul, she'd one day fall in love with him.
"That was the first time since . . . You were the first, " she murmured.
Thank you didn't seem to be the correct response so he chose to stay mute and let her say what she needed to say. After a few minutes, she shifted again, but she was no longer tense.
"Kitten, want to come inside? Mmm? I'll make you lunch and you can clean up."
She nodded in agreement and he finally pulled back to look at her. God, she was gorgeous. And he couldn't stop himself from telling her so. Promptly, she blushed and looked away.
"You better get used to it, kitten. I plan to tell you that a lot."
She blushed harder making her even more adorable, and he wanted her again. However, it was best to go slowly, though nothing about this coupling had been slow. Next time, he planned to savor it, planned to map out her body with his hands and tongue and love every inch of her. He'd been so desperate for her from the minute he'd seen her pixie face in the window of the garage gate, that when she allowed him to touch her, it was full steam ahead.
Now things felt delicate and he was unsure of the next move, only knew that he had to take it slow and steady and let her guide him. It was imperative that she feel in control now.
Helping her right her sundress after fixing his pants, he helped her slide down the trunk of the car, noticing with male pride the fact that her legs were shaking slightly. He plastered on an encouraging smile and she surprised him by smiling back, albeit a wobbly, uncertain smile. Still, the intent was there, and he'd take it.
He led her to a door on the side of the garage with a small walkway that led to his home. The home he'd bought with his inheritance. His Aunt Jenny had done most of the decorating to save it looking like a bachelor lived there, even if one did. She added plush couches, comfortable chairs, curtains and other little things that he never would have thought of. It still appeared as though a man lived there, and alone, but not as bare as it would have been if his aunt hadn't helped him out.
Leading her into the sunny kitchen, he took her hand and took her through the kitchen, around the living room and into the hall where the bathroom was nestled. That was the only room Aunt Jenny hadn't gotten to for it was stark white with no pictures on the wall, no frilly things to spruce it up. Just the essentials - blinds to block peeping toms, and a matching white shower curtain.
"It's not as 'touched up' as the rest of the house, I apologize," he told her, flicking the light on.
"I don't care about that stuff," she said, waving him off.
"Your house is so nice though."
She shrugged, "It takes time. I'm not a snob, Spike."
He smiled, "I know you're not. I'll be in the kitchen. Think you can find your way back?"
"Yep."
Preparing a lunch of tomato soup with tuna sandwiches and iced tea, Spike was stunned to discover that he too, was shaking. He knew it had more to do with his fear of having driven Buffy away from him than the sex however. He wondered then if that was why she shook. Was she plotting her escape? Trying to figure out how to leave without hurting him? God, he wouldn't be able to bear it if she left like that. On the other hand though, he didn't plan on letting her go.
Ever.
"Did you do the decorating?" Buffy asked, startling him slightly as she entered the kitchen.
He looked over his shoulder at her, "Uh, no. My aunt did."
"She did a nice job. I love the living room. You could get lost in that couch."
He grinned, "I think I have."
She came over beside him, "Anything I can do?"
His head filled with the image of her wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaning her head ever so slightly on his back. That's what she could do.
"Stir the soup?" he suggested instead.
Moving to the stove, she stirred the soup in silence and he watched her, her hip up against the counter, and her neck to the side. He couldn't resist; he had to touch her. Coming over to her, he nuzzled her neck from behind and heard her sharp intake of breath. Deciding that was enough for now, he went back to the sandwiches.
***************
"Anya told me you had a great backyard. She wasn't lying," Buffy said, surveying the space.
"Thanks," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and watching her.
"Don't you feel this is . . . odd?"
"What's odd, luv?"
"We just . . . and here we are . . . and I feel . . ."
"Odd?"
She nodded, looking down at her half finished sandwich.
Reaching across the table, he grabbed her hands in his and kissed her fingers. "Don't feel odd. Not with me. Not ever with me, kitten."
"But-"
He shook his head, "No buts. Not right now, okay? I just want to be with you right now and -"
"But Spike-"
"You done with your sandwich?"
She blinked at him in confusion. "Yeah, why?"
"Let's swing in the hammock."
"What?"
He stood and reached out his hand, "Come on. Come with me, please."
Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand. Kissing her quickly, he led her to the hammock and they scooted on it, quite ungracefully, but it made her laugh and that was all he cared about. Under the shade of two trees, they swung, and shortly fell asleep.
**************
Waking up slowly, Spike was distinctly aware that this was not his bed, and Anya was not the one tucked into his side.
He looked down and smiled. Buffy. How long had they been asleep?
Glancing down at his watch, he surmised at least an hour had gone by. Buffy stirred beside him and he watched her fight it and then start to stretch, letting out little moans of protest along the way. Then her eyes fluttered open and fell on him. She smiled, thank you Gods in Heaven, she smiled.
"How long have I been asleep?" she asked.
"Only an hour."
She yawned, "Sorry."
"Don't be. I slept too."
She looked up and around, seeming deep in thought and he watched her, wondering what was going on in her head.
Finally, she looked up at him with a soft, little grin, “This is nice.”
“What the yard? Or . . . ?”
She smiled fuller now, shyly, “The ‘or’.”
He relaxed, not knowing how tense he was until he felt his muscles give way. “You . . . like it?
She nodded, “I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve just been held.”
Scooting down so that their heads were level, he leaned in and kissed her, sweetly, not pushing for anything, just hoping to offer her the continued peace that seemed to have settled over her.
He parted, leaning his forehead against hers, with an arm wrapped around her middle. “I like to hold you, so I can do it at anytime you want—“
“Anya,” she blurted out.
He blinked, “What about her?”
“She’s going to be upset,” she sighed, turning her head and looking up towards the sky.
“Buffy, we’re broken up. I broke up with her because of you—“
“Y-you did?” she asked, her eyes widening and looking back at him.
“Haven’t you figured that part out yet?”
“You said it was because you weren’t in love with – oh. Oh.” She started to make toward climbing out of the hammock and he pulled her back against him.
“Buffy, stop. Don’t run from me.”
“But you—you . . . You—“
“Buffy, I didn’t say it, did I?”
“It’s implied.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not pushing for anything from you. I’m just asking that you stay here and talk to me. And tomorrow I’m going to ask for you to spend some time with me. That’s all. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”
“But Anya –“
“Anya’s ego was hurt more than anything else. She wasn’t in love with me was she?”
“No, but she’s not going to take kindly to the fact that we – that we –“
“That we’re friends?”
“We had sex!”
“I’m not going to tell her, are you?”
“No!.”
“Then?”
She rolled her eyes, “Men. You have such simple answers for everything.” This time she succeeded in crawling off the hammock. She looked at him, exasperated, with her hands on her hips.
“Because it is simple Buffy!” he exclaimed, climbing out and facing her down from the other side of the hammock.
“You obviously don’t understand the complexness of women relationships.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t understand why Anya, whom I not with anymore and who, might I add, was just setting you up the other night with Captain Cardboard, would stand in the way of your happiness with someone else. Even if it is me. If she was your friend, she’d get over it and let you live your life.”
She stared at him and then started to laugh. He stared at her, wondering if she’d gone mad.
“Captain Cardboard?” she said between laughter.
He grinned, “Well, yeah.”
“Spike,” she started when she’d calmed.
“Don’t say it. Don’t end this because of Anya.”
“This? What is ‘this’? There is no ‘this’.”
“There will be.”
“Spike—“
“I’m asking you to spend time with me Buffy. Stop thinking so much. If you feel more comfortable not letting Anya know for now, don’t let her know. Just, God, Buffy, I just want to spend some time with you.” He hadn’t meant for the last part to come out so needy, but it had, and he just hoped she didn’t reject him.
She sighed resolutely, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he smiled, “Can I seal that with a kiss?”
She broke into a light smile, “Yes.”
He held out his hand, “Come here.”
Coming around the hammock, she took his hand and he brought her in the circle of his arms, kissing her soundly. Kissing the top of her forehead he said, “I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“My parents.”
“Your parents?”
He nodded, and released her. Taking her hand, he led her in the house and into the living room. In the corner of the navy and cream room was a little makeshift reading area with a coffee table, a lamp and a bookcase next to it. On the coffee table was a picture of his parents and himself at ten years old. He picked it up and handed it to her.
“Spike, you were so cute!”
He frowned, “’Were’?”
She looked up at him with a teasing smile, “Give me a break. You know you’re hot.”
He grinned, “Still like to hear you say it.”
Rolling her eyes, she gazed back down at the picture. “You look like your Dad. What was his name?”
“William Robert Gardner.”
“So you’re a junior.”
“I think you know I’m not a junior.”
She giggled. “But, you have your mother’s eyes.”
“Whose eyes do you have, sweetheart?”
She wrinkled her nose. “My Dad’s.” Then she looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I know. Lunch.”
“We’ll go with that then.”
“So . . . dinner?”
“I can’t. Anya’s coming by after she gets out of work . . . “
“Okay,” he nodded, “Tomorrow then?”
She took a deep breath, “Tomorrow.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm really unsure about this chapter so please let me know if it blows. But can you do it in a nice way? I bruise easy. Thanks.