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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello, everyone. Here's the next chapter. I'm very interested to know what you think about it (like always).
~~Jennifer
Chapter 8

“You want out of those clothes, don’t you?”

Buffy groaned an answer, not caring that it didn’t resemble a clear yes or no. She was still sprawled across the bed where William had left her. She rolled onto her stomach, brushed her hair from her eyes and watched as he changed into another pair of drawstring pants.

“Do you have a closet full of the same clothes, in the same dark colors?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What’d you say?” Buffy blinked, and William was in front of her. She blinked again, and found herself face-to-face with his thighs. “I couldn’t hear you, pet.”

“Either this bed is very tall, or you’re very short, or maybe…”

A strong set of hands turned her over and helped her to sit up. “Okay, I’ve got your nightgown here--.”

“Nightgown? It’s too cold for a nightgown!”

“Your pajamas are dirty,” he said patiently. “We should’ve done laundry today, but I forgot.”

“I’m going to freeze.”

“No, you won’t--.”

“Oh, yes. I hate nightgowns. I toss and turn too much and I wake up with them tangled around my neck.”

“Buffy,” he began, trying to pull her shirt over her head. “Could you try to cooperate? You’re worse than the kids--.”

“I can dress myself!” Buffy snapped, scooting away. She gathered the ball of clothes at the end of the bed and headed into the bathroom, letting the door slam behind her. She yanked her sweater off and pulled down her jeans. She looked into the clothes that she’d brought with her, and noticed that they looked very familiar.

“Um, William?” she whispered, opening the door a crack so he couldn’t see her naked body. “William? William, answer me. I know you’re out there!”

“Forget something?”

“Can you bring me the stupid nightgown?”

“That depends, you going to give me my dirties back?”

Covering the fullness of her breasts with her arm, she knelt carefully to pick up the clothes, including her own. She tossed them out and quickly hid behind the door.

“Happy?” she called. “Can I have my nightgown now?”

“If you want it, why’d you close the door?” The doorknob turned, and Buffy pushed her weight against the door.

“You can’t come in!”

“Can I hand it to you?”

“Eh…I guess so.” She opened the door a crack and was greeted by William’s blue shining eyes and warm smile. “Gimme,” she said, extending her arm.

“You know this is ridiculous. I’ve seen you naked, Summers. I’ve seen every inch of you.”

“I don’t care,” Buffy said stubbornly as her body shivered, not quite reacting to the cold alone. Flashes of the morning when he touched her came to mind and she felt her nipples harden against her arm. “Give me the nightgown and go away.”

“You do own some underwear, pet. Want me to get a pair of your lacy things?”

“How the hell do you know that I’m not wearing any underwear?”

“Well, one, by the way you’re acting, and two, reflections can tell a lot, like, for example, you’ve been blessed with the most perfect ass--.”

Buffy’s head flew around, and she squeaked at the sight of the mirror and the reflection of her bare backside. “Ahhh! You’re so—go to hell, William!”

She slammed the door closed and leaned against it, listening as he chuckled. “Oh my God, you’re such a pain!”

“You too, pet. You too.”

“Can I please have my nightgown? What do you want me to do? Haven’t I begged enough?”

“All you’ve got to do is open the door. Come and get it.”

“Fine,” she sighed, hitting the light switch in the bathroom. “Take a good look.” She boldly stepped into the bedroom and held her head high.

Across the turned down bed were her clothes: a delicate nightgown, sheer black bra and a matching pair of panties.

“William?”

When she didn’t get a response, she shook her head, realizing that the room was empty.
***

He returned minutes later and politely knocked on the doorframe. “May I?”

“Yes you may.”

He closed the door behind him and turned off the brightest set of lights.

“Do we usually close the door?”

“Would you like it kept open?”

“No,” Buffy said, after a second of hesitation.

“We keep it closed and use baby monitors,” William explained, pointing to the walkie-talkie shaped machines next to Buffy on the nightstand. “We have one in Joy’s room and one with the twins.”

“So, how are they?”

“All’s quiet.”

“I wondered where you went, but then I figured, where else would a good daddy be at this time of night?”

He smiled, looking embarrassed. “It’s just…we moved Joy out of our room only a few days ago.”

“Do the baby monitors work alright?”

With a nod, he turned off the lamp close to the bed, and before Buffy’s eyes could adjust to the darkness, he joined her under the sheets. “If you hear anything—the sound’s pretty low—but if you hear crying or whatnot, wake me up.”

“Okay.” She shifted lower, resting her head on the middle of the pillow. Her gown bunched up, and she stretched the soft material past the curve of her butt. Standing up, she’d been disappointed to see that the hem of the white, nearly see-through nightie didn’t come anywhere near her knees. However, she wasn’t taken aback by the sexy sleepwear after stumbling across a drawer full of nothing but lingerie when she’d been searching for William’s lost Christmas gifts.

Biting her lower lip, feeling awkward, Buffy forced herself not to wonder about her sex life as a young, married, mother of three.

“Never thought I’d feel like this again.” William rolled over to face her from where he’d been on resting back. “It’s strange.”

“Just how are you feeling?” she asked, eager to get her mind off of her racy thoughts.

“I’m nervous…scared.”

“What are you scared of? Me?”

“Yes and no. I’m more scared of me, I think.”

“You shouldn’t be afraid of yourself, William. That’s strange.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was feeling strange?” he asked with a laugh. He rose onto his elbow just long enough to punch and force his pillow into a tight ball. “After four years, love, you never think you’re going to feel nervous in bed with your wife. And if you do, well,” he paused, thoughtfully cupping his chin, “well, it’s because you did something to make her mad at you, or you’re about to do something to make her mad at you.”

“Do you make me mad often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just for the sake of make-up sex?”

“Eh…sometimes.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“How’d you guess?”

“I just had a hunch, a gut feeling.”

“Don’t know if I’d trust your gut right about now. It’s a bit full and overflowing, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” Buffy agreed with a yawn. “My bladder feels that way too, so I hope you don’t get annoyed when I’m up in the bathroom all night.”

“I won’t.” He rolled onto his back again and looked at her after a brief pause. “I’m not planning on it, alright? But don’t shove me off the bed. Push me away, or yell at me, or thrash me with your pillow if you must, because the last thing we need is me getting a concussion.”

“William?” she asked with a confused giggle. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, things can happen, you know when you’re half asleep and next to the delightfully curvy body that you used to have all access to. Hands might wander, and I want to let you know now, if that happens, I’m sorry and I don’t mean to do it.”

“Oh, thanks for telling me,” she said, giggling again. “I promise not to shove you off the bed as long as you promise not to have sex with me while I’m sleeping. I tend to sleep heavier after drinking and--.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” he gasped, scandalized by the thought. “You don’t have to worry about me raping you while you sleep! For the love of God—do you really think that little of me?”

“William,” she sang, still amused. “Oh, William--.”

“If I thought there was a chance—even the smallest chance of that happening there’d be no way in hell that I’d share a bed with you!”

She sighed happily, knowing that he was telling the truth, but finding perverse satisfaction in his distress. She scooted closer; leaving the tiniest gap she could manage without allowing their bodies to touch.

“I was joking,” she explained quietly. “Clearly it wasn’t my best work, but I blame the alcohol, and since you gave me the alcohol, it’s your fault.”

“My fault? Oh, naturally it wouldn’t be yours…no, no, not ever.”

With a slight bend of her knee the space between them dwindled.

“Do we have any plans for tomorrow? Are we going to…I don’t know, what do we usually do on Christmas Eve? Do we just stay around the house or—oh! Do we visit the in-laws? Ew! Do I have a mean mother-in-law? One who, who criticizes my cooking and cleaning because she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her son?”

“My mother passed away the year we were married, Buffy. We saw her once and she died a few months afterward.”

“Oh. Oh,” she said again with more emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“She was too sick to come to the wedding, well, that and she’d never been on a plane, so we saw her a little after our honeymoon. I believe you saw the pictures… She liked you and she did approve.”

“She liked me? You’re not just saying that? Because Riley’s mom, she didn’t and—I guess I can understand, but--.”

“My mother loved you. Maybe she wasn’t as prim and fucking proper as Riley’s mum, but she accepted you on the spot and considered you as her own before we made it back to the States.”

“She sounds very kind.”

“She was.”

“This might sound lame,” she admitted, feeling shy, “but I’m really happy that she liked me.”

“That doesn’t sound lame at all. And to answer your question, we don’t have any plans for tomorrow. If there’s something in particular that you have in mind--.”

“Jamie…Sarah…the kids have no grandparents.”

“No, they don’t, but I have a few aunts who see ‘em a lot. We were invited to my Aunt Wendy’s, but we declined the offer.”

“Why?”

“No reason. We’re just a couple of homebodies,” he shrugged. “We’re not hermits or anything, we choose to spend time together as our little family.”

“We’re not hermits? Thank God, I was starting to worry.”

“Buffy,” he said, his voice a little husky, “aren’t you tired? I mean, I’d love to chat all night, but I’m worn-out.”

“Should we just get to the part where we say goodnight?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Okay. Um…goodnight, William.”

“Goodnight.”

Buffy closed her eyes and seconds before she was pulled into sleep, lips brushed against her cheek and soft whispers were said into her ear. “I love you...”
***





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