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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to everyone who has left reviews. This is only my second fic, and certainly the most involved plot I have attempted. Please let me know if you like it., I know it build kinda slowly.
Chapter 6: Painting the Town Merlot

By the time they reached the restaurant Buffy was already pleasantly buzzed. She knew that she shouldn’t have had anything to drink in the limo, but she was nervous. She figured that the food would help sober her up. Besides, she didn’t really want to accomplish anything nefarious tonight – just have a good time and get to know one another better. She could do that just as well a little tipsy – perhaps better because she’d be more relaxed.

And she needed something to help her relax. She’d never been in a restaurant quite this fancy. The table was set with so many different knives and spoons she was sure that she’d use the wrong one. Why couldn’t he have just taken her out to the Doublemeat like a normal guy?

Okay, so bad example. She had worked there for a while, and hoped never to eat their food again as long as she lived. But what was wrong with a nice simple ubiquitous chain, whose whole reason for existence that it was so bland no one could possibly be offended? Or even the diner they had eaten at the other night? The food had actually been quite good.

Buffy was further intimated when she realized that the menu she had been handed didn’t even have prices listed on it; plus it was all in French! How was she supposed to know what to order? She was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny.

Without even asking her what she wanted, Spike was already pouring her more wine. She would have been annoyed, except the wine was really good. Probably the same wine as what they had been drinking in the car, only she couldn’t be sure. Saying that she wasn’t an expert on wine was like saying she wasn’t an international chess champion. All she knew was a few brand names, like Gallo, and that it came in two basic types: red and white. After than, when they started adding more names like Zinfandel and Chardonnay she became confused.

Pretty soon Spike was going to ask her what she wanted to order, and she didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to him. In a play for time she excused herself from the table. Maybe she’d think of something on the way to the ladies room.

Once she reached her destination, Buffy decided that it would be a good idea to make use of the facilities. The wine she had already drunk was making its way through her system quickly. While she was freshening her make up she heard two older women conversing about their meal. The first was talking about a dish that Buffy couldn’t pronounce if her life depended on it, but thankfully the second replied simply enough, “the veal was excellent.” There, she would order that. She hadn’t even known veal was on the menu.

Aside from a slight awkward moment when Spike had asked her what wine she wanted to go with dinner, the evening was going more smoothly than she had any right to expect. After another glass of wine she had finally come clean and asked him why the menus were so intimidating. He had laughed, but in a good way, not in a way that made her feel like a ten year old. Then he had explained.

That had broken the ice and after that conversation had again come easily. They had talked about the latest crop of young artists, and argued about who they thought held the most promise. They had discussed current events, theatre and Spike had even mentioned a few books that Buffy had thankfully either seen the movie version or at least heard of, so she didn’t feel that she came off looking too unsophisticated.

It was a good thing that the conversation was good, because the food was bad. At least Buffy thought it was bad. The people around her, including Spike, looked as if they were enjoying their meal, but Buffy barely touched each course. There had been a soup that was served room temperature, a salad that was too bitter, followed by something unidentifiable. It was a relief when the promised veal finally arrived and turned out to be something that Buffy could actually eat and enjoy. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of it. She guessed that she was supposed to have been filled up by the previous courses. At least the desserts were good, and she ate all of hers, and half of Spike’s.

Aside from still being hungry, another unfortunate side effect of not eating much was that Buffy hadn’t really ever recovered from the wine they had drunk in the car on the way over. She didn’t think she had drunk much in the restaurant. She hadn’t refilled her glass once during the meal, and so was surprised when the waiter brought them a second bottle.

She didn’t quite think that she was drunk, but she wasn’t as sober as she would have liked to have been. If Spike invited her back to his house now, she knew that she wouldn’t be alert enough to be as observant as she should. Besides, even she realized that it would mean something totally different to take her back to his house after a night of dinner and drinking. Although she genuinely liked Spike, she was not ready to take their relationship to the next level, and wouldn’t be until the Agency realized that they were investigating the wrong man. Even then she wasn’t sure that she would be ready for a physical relationship until she had known him for much longer than a few days. Her previous relationships hadn’t worked out so well; she had learned to be cautious.

As they rose to leave, Buffy discovered that for some reason the dessert and coffee after the meal had not had the desired effect. Standing was fine, but walking was a little difficult. She was much more tipsy than she had thought. She really should have forced herself to eat more, even if she hadn’t liked the food.

With trepidation Buffy realized that Spike had intuited her condition, as he graciously helped her to navigate her way out of the room. His hand against her back felt nice. Until that moment she hadn’t really missed being touched, at least not consciously. Joyce had used to hug her all the time. Since she had gone, she had been far lonelier than she had realized.

As they made their way back into the car, Buffy’s mood turned maudlin. She snuggled up next to Spike in the back of the limo, trying to hide from him the fact that she was crying. The fact that she had intended to keep her distance from him had completely slipped her mind.

“What’s the matter, kitten?”

Buffy looked up at the man sitting next to her in the backseat, trying to smile as she wiped at her tear stained eyes. “Huh?”

“My shirt’s all wet. It’s kind of a give away. Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our evening out. It’s just…” What could she say that wouldn’t sound foolish? “I guess I had more to drink than was good for me.”

“It’s my fault. I saw that you weren’t eating much. Did you not like it, pet?”

Relieved to be talking about something else, Buffy screwed up her face and shook her head. “Too fancy. I’d rather have pizza. Plus I was always afraid I’d use the wrong fork or something. Next time can I pick the restaurant?”

Now it was Spike’s turn to be relieved. He was afraid that the night had been a disaster. At least Buffy was willing to give him another chance. For a girl who patently stated that she wasn’t interested in dating him, she sure seemed to be dating him. If the way she had held on to him in the restaurant or was snuggled up next to him in the back of the limo were any indication, despite what she said, she was in fact interested in being more than friends.

“Whatever makes you happy, kitten. I’ll even eat those horrible Doublemeat burgers if it’s what you want.”

‘Blech! Did you know that I worked there for a while? That must be the worst job in the world. Plus, the smell of the place! It took weeks after I quit and I could still smell it in my hair!”

“What a shame,” he agreed, running his hands through her tresses. “You have such beautiful hair.” He moved in closer, pressing his nose to her hair, kissing her ear tentatively to see how she would react.

Pulling back he looked in her eyes. What did she really think of him? She was sad, and more than a little bit drunk. Reluctantly, he moved to sit back on the seat, but Buffy held him tightly to her.

Just as he was determining to pull away again, Buffy closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and the longer it lasted, the harder he knew it would be for him to let her go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed him with so much depth of feeling. Maybe no one ever had. He’d known plenty of passion, and at the time he’d thought that he’d been crazy in love with Drusilla, but somehow this seemed different. More personal.

When she was quite finished with him, she laid her head back down on his chest and sighed, replete for the moment. “I think you’d better take me home.”

The words were whispered softly, but she spoke them with conviction. Not arguing, Spike told Jonathan to take them back to Buffy’s apartment. At first he was hoping that she would invite him to go upstairs with her, but the more he thought about it, the more he thought it would be a mistake to accept. He didn’t want to her to do anything that she would regret in the morning. He’d known from the moment they met that he wanted Buffy as a permanent part of his life. Whether merely as good friends or as something much more, he would leave up to her. Staunchly he determined that he wouldn’t do anything that might scare her away.





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