Armed with a ton of perseverance and a pot of coffee, Buffy managed to finish the reports Spike demanded from her without needing to go back into the office the following day. But she was bone tired for her efforts, had skipped dinner and her usual stop at Willy’s and missed watching Blood Ties since it was now going on eleven PM. Well, at least she was smart enough to set a series recording on her DVR.
Standing in front of her apartment, she sighed with relief as the lock turned, looking forward to a glass of Lambrusco and a relaxing soak in the hot tub on her balcony while admiring the view of the city’s twinkling lights. Only problem with that perfect scenario was she had yet to fill it with water. Oh well, at least she had a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge and a corner garden tub.
What she didn’t expect, when she opened the door, was to find an intruder waiting inside.
“What are you doing in my apartment?” She was thunderstruck! This simply couldn’t be happening to her, could it? She closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope when she opened them again, he’d disappear. This has to be an illusion! I’m just overtired and have seen so much of him lately that he’s haunting me. But no… things simply couldn’t be that easy. Not for her at least. Sitting on her couch with his feet on her coffee table was Spike, smoking a cigarette, several cartons of half-eaten Chinese take-out surrounding him, watching her TV and… was he drinking her wine, too?!?! It was blasphemy at its worst to her neat-freak religion.
Spike was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him and stood up so fast, he knocked his glass over, the deep red liquid spilling in a huge puddle on the alpine white carpet. “How did you get into my place?”
“Your place?!?!” She left the door open, dropped her briefcase where she stood and ran into the kitchen for a roll of paper towels. “For your information-” She proceeded to soak up the wine as best she could while continuing her rant. “-this is my place.” Standing up, she took his cigarette right out of his hand and extinguished it inside a carton of egg noodles with a huff. “What are you? Some kind of a stalker with lock-picking abilities?”
“Oi, whaddya thi-”
“I suggest you leave right now or I’m calling the cops.”
“Listen here, li’l girl,” he told her, a warning finger pointed right in her face. “This is my place! As in paid for, contract and all.”
They both stared at one another for several seconds; neither knowing what was going on. They both had a key, that much was obvious, but other than that they were dumbfounded as to why either claimed to be the rightful occupant.
Still, for all she knew, he could have lifted her key from her purse and had a copy made while she was in the ladies’ room or something. Right, cuz he has a key making machine hidden away in the office somewhere. Reality check, Buffy.
Not like any of this was going to stop her from throwing him out of her apartment, though! “That’s it! I’m calling the cops.” She pulled her cell from her jacket and prepared to dial 911 when Spike tore it from out of her hand.
“Unless you wanna get cuffed and carted off for breakin’ and enterin’, I suggest not doin’ that.”
“Me? Oh, I don’t think so. Why would I have a key then, hmmm?” She tried to take back her phone but he clutched it tight in his hand.
No way was she going to cause any more problems than the one they currently had on their hands. “Lower your voice, you stupid bint!” he hissed as he walked over to close and lock the door. “I have neighbors.”
She followed right behind him and latched onto the hand that held her cell, trying to pry it free again. “They are not your neighbors, they’re mine.”
“Do I have to bloody gag and bind you?” Hmmm, now tha’s a delicious idea. A little bondage and humiliation might just fix her wagon. Not to mention he’d have loads of fun dominating her. Shaking that thought from his mind, at least for the time being, he told her, “I don’ know wha’s goin’ on anymore than you do. But you need to lower your voice so we can suss this out.”
And that’s exactly what they attempted to do. Apparently each of them had the same contract, paid six month’s rent up front and were handed a key after writing out the check. Fifteen minutes later, Spike suggested it was probably a scam. That it wasn’t uncommon for some con-artist to make a few quick bucks off a place he didn’t really own and then made sure never to be seen again.
He then described how he’d gotten word from a bellhop at the hotel where he’d stayed about the apartment and was given a phone number of who to contact. “It was the reason-” he explained, “-why I had to leave work early this past Thursday… to go meet the landlord and inspect the place.”
Buffy, on the other hand, had met the landlord at Willy’s last week. He’d overheard her conversation with the bartender about possibly moving and proceeded to introduce himself. He’d made an appointment to show her the apartment the very next day and, “I didn’t hesitate to take it.”
And after both compared the physical description of said landlord, it was obvious they’d been ‘had’ by the sleaze-ball.
Spike ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Listen. We’re both in this together and `s too late in the evenin’ to do anythin’ `bout it,” he said in a calm voice while an agitated Buffy started to pace. “Le’s both get some kip and tomorrow mornin’ I’ll make a few phone calls. We’ll find the real landlord, file a police report then take it from there. Alright?”
“Kip?”
“Means sleep.”
“Sleep. Yeah, okay.” She looked around at the mess on the coffee table Spike had created and grimaced in disgust. “But can you please clean this up first? And until we get this worked out… no smoking in the apartment.”
“Fine,” he groused while throwing his hands in the air. “And by the way, since there’s two bedrooms, I chose the one that looks less… girly.” His face contorted at that last word.
“Thank God. Wait… how come you didn’t think someone else might already be living here?” All her belongings were neatly tucked away in her bedroom closet and dresser drawers, so she could understand he wouldn’t assume anyone lived here when looking in there, but there were other clues.
“Uhmm, the fact there’s nothin’ here but furniture?”
Sounded logical, yet still… “But you must have gone into the fridge since you’re drinking my wine. Did you not notice there was yogurt and other things in there as well?” Her ire began to resurface, searching for an outlet, and since the con-artist who was the root of their current problem wasn’t around… Plus it wasn’t like the bleached nuisance hadn’t done more than enough to keep her mad at him for a decade at the very least!
“Oh.” Ooops! “That.” He looked at her sheepishly. “I sorta thought they were left there by the previous tenants so I… tossed it all out. Sorry.”
Annoyed, Buffy closed her eyes and threw a hand up in the air. “Did you even think of checking the expiration dates on those items?” Of course he didn’t, she answered herself right away, he’s a guy and they wouldn’t ask for directions even if lost in the Sahara.
“Look. I said `m sorry. What the bloody hell `s your problem anyway? Did you forget to take your Midol?”
“My problem? My problem is that my boss decided to take advantage of his authority and made me have to stay late at the office today until I finished something that could have waited until Monday.” Throwing him a poisonous look, she almost growled out her next statement, “Take the advice I gave you on Wednesday and don’t … fuck with me. Because at this point-”
“At this point, what you need is a good shaggin’. And if you weren’t on the rag, I’d throw you down on the floor right now and fuck that attitude right outta you.” His nostrils flared as his temper began to rise. The bird was truly infuriating!
“Ahh,” she gasped, outraged. Her mind went blank as it replayed his words, she couldn’t believe he actually said that. The nerve! Who did he think he was? More importantly, what the hell did he think she was? He started to walk away, and not wanting him to have the last word, she asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out on the balcony for a smoke while you cool down.”
And just like that, he slid the glass door shut behind him and lit up.
Cool down? Cool down?!?! We’ll see who’s gonna cool down! She hadn’t forgotten he’d called her frigid the other day either. Time to school somebody… she’d redefine ‘frigid’ for him.
As Spike took a second drag off his smoke, he heard a distinct ‘click’ from behind him. He turned around to see one smiling Buffy waving cheerily at him before walking in the direction of the kitchen and out of sight. “Buffy?” Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he tried to slide it open… with no luck. “BUFFY!!! ”
She snickered every time he called out her name, especially when he became louder. Guess he doesn’t care about disturbing the neighbors anymore. She poured herself the last glass of wine that he’d thankfully left in the bottle and headed for the bathroom, intent on taking a long bubble bath to ease the day’s stress. As she passed the double glass doors, Spike banged on them, practically screaming for her to let him in ‘or else’. She stopped momentarily, putting her hand up to her ear and frowned, mouthing the words ‘what, what… sorry, I can’t hear you’. He looked about ready to explode but she was too proud of herself for getting one up on him after what he did to her today to care, hell, everything he’d put her through this week. Before she left the room however, she made sure he heard her when she said, “You seriously need to, ahem… chill out.”
I can’ believe the bloody bitch `s actually goin’ to leave me out here! No, no, he told himself, she wouldn’ really do that. It was January for Christ sakes; he’d catch his death of cold. Surely she wasn’t that pissed at him for making her work late… or was she?
~~~*~~~
Spike got his answer when an hour passed before Buffy went walking past him again; looking all cozy and warm dressed in a pink bathrobe with her hair wrapped up in a towel. She never even looked at him until she came back from the kitchen with a mug of something hot in her hands.
Glad to have discovered Spike hadn’t looked through the cupboards and thrown out her chamomile tea or the rest of her groceries, she prepared herself a cup with honey and sauntered into the living room to settle down and watch Blood Ties. But when she spared a glance at the balcony, she froze. Actually, it was Spike that looked frozen. He stood there, hands tucked under his armpits, visibly shivering and frankly, looking a little blue in the face. Remorse crept into her heart for having left him out there so long. Setting her cup down, she went over and unlocked the door.
He shuffled his way inside as best as his freezing legs would allow, wanting nothing more than to put his hands around her throat - if he could’ve gotten them to work that is. Before he spoke a word, however, Buffy disappeared down the hall and came back with a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. She led him to the couch and sat down with him, rubbing his shoulders to warm him up.
“Y-you’re a-a… b-b-bitch. You kn-know that… r-right?” his teeth chattered as he insulted her.
“Never said I wasn’t, but...” But she wasn’t completely heartless either. Matter of fact she felt guilty as hell right now. “Look, Spike. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“And w-what… you say `m s-sorry and that m-makes it alright? Sorry, pet, b-but-” He took a deep breath, trying to get his voice under control. “-it doesn' work that… w-way.”
“Look, I'm trying to apologize here. Why don't you grow up and just accept it? I could've left you outside but I didn't. That's gotta count for something.”
“Don’ w-want your… soddin’ a-apology,” he gritted through clenched teeth, but when she stopped rubbing his shoulders, he quickly changed his tune. “Don’ stop…………….. p-please?” he begged softly.
And didn’t she melt the instant those sad blue eyes looked her in the face, knowing exactly what he meant? With a nod, she shuffled back into the corner of the couch and helped drag him between her legs. Before she started babying him however, she took the towel off her head and asked that he hand her the remote for the TV.
“There’s a program I recorded that I want to watch,” she told him, then shifted to grab her tea and carefully put it in front of him. “Here, this should make you feel better. Okay?” She wasn’t sure why she was making the effort to soothe him at all, considering he’d made her life hell from the moment they’d met. But he’d never threatened her health. Her mental health maybe, but if he caught pneumonia or what not because of her, well… she couldn’t live with herself then.
“Th-thanks.” He took the proffered tea, delighted when he tasted the honey she added to it. “But you’re still a-a-ACHEW, a bitch.”
“Yeah and you’re still a bastard, but we’re stuck together for the night so let’s put this behind us for now. And… you’re welcome,” she responded more evenly and pressed the appropriate buttons to begin watching her show before setting the remote aside.
To Spike, it felt like heaven as he didn’t even bother watching what was on the telly. Content instead when Buffy used her tiny hands to rub and massage his neck, back, shoulders and arms in an effort to bring the warmth back into his body as he sipped the tea.
By the time her show ended, Spike was quietly snoring with his back against her chest, his head resting on her shoulder. The noises he made droned through her body, along with his slow, warm breath tickling her neck, making her feel more than a tad uncomfortable and she knew she had to wake him. Sure, she was grateful they’d made some kind of amends despite what they’d have to face tomorrow, but for her own sake it was definitely time to distance herself from his sleeping form.
Gently, she nudged him and whispered in his ear, “William. William, it’s time to go to bed.”
“Mmmmm,” he groaned unconsciously then turned on his side to wrap an arm around her waist and nuzzle his cheek between her breasts, his snores ceasing.
As innocent as it was since he’d done this in his sleep, it still made her nervous. Nervous of how good it felt to have him, no, anyone take comfort in her embrace like this - well, except for the face in her breasts bit. She couldn’t let him stay like that though, and she didn’t dare to drift off herself. God knew what kind of un -innocent ideas he might get if they actually woke up like this.
“William, wake up,” she insisted.
He didn’t move an inch, he was obviously deep in sleep and then suddenly, she felt a vibration thrum through her chest when he began to… purr? Oh my God, he purrs, and she couldn’t help but think it was kind of… cute. It was a deep rumbly sound of a man truly content and for a moment, she let her guard down and just looked at him.
His bleached locks were all messy, free from gel, looking so boyishly soft and curly that she wanted to run her fingers through them. And that sinfully plump bottom lip of his was poking out just a bit as if silently pleading ‘kiss me’ and God help her but she almost wanted to at that moment. She followed the sharp contours of his jaw, up along his angular cheeks to where his lids lay closed in slumber and for the first time, she noticed with envy how long and dark the fringe of his lashes were as they hid those smoldering blue eyes of his - it should be illegal for a man to have eyelashes like those when we women have to spend heaps of money on mascaras - right before she realized they were fluttering open to look up at her in confusion.
“It’s time to go to bed, William. It’s late,” she whispered as he yawned and nodded his head. Helping to push him upright, they both stood and walked down the hall together to their respective bedrooms.
Before she opened her door, Spike turned to wish her goodnight before disappearing inside his room.
“Goodnight, William,” she said softly as his door closed then turned into her own room to get some much needed sleep. Tonight had been a disaster, emotionally charged with anger, confusion, revenge and guilt. Her conflicting feelings towards him weren’t helping matters either and she refused to dwell on those for now. Even with the tacit truce they’d formed, tomorrow was going to be rough, and she would need all her mental strength because like it or not, not knowing what was going to happen with the apartment scared her out of her mind.
~~~*~~~
Saturday morning………
When Spike woke up, he felt sicker than a dog. Sniffling, sneezing and coughing his way down the hall towards the kitchen, he spied Buffy in a pair of blue cotton Pj’s pouring herself a cup of coffee. He was prepared to be mad with her seeing as it was her fault he caught a cold, but the culpable face she wore when she looked his way made him let it go.
“Do you want some coffee?” she asked timidly, already grabbing another cup from the cupboard to make him one and avoid staring at his half naked state of dress. He wore nothing but a pair of flannel plaid boxers and it was a bit unnerving to see him like that with the Adonis-like muscles he sported. Not that he didn’t look great in them because okay, totally hot, but she was already blushing from the ‘semi’ beneath the material and prayed to God it wouldn’t poke through the slit in the front.
“Thanks, luv, that’d be nice.” Sitting down at the table, he was surprised when he took his first sip that she knew how he took it. When he began coughing again, she sat across from him with her elbows on the table, looking concerned.
“This is… I’m truly sorry, Spike. I let my hormones get the better of me and, well, I shouldn’t have done what I did. So I’m going to the grocery store this morning to get some medicine and other things that might help make you better. Okay?” She expected him to make some snide remark about her ‘raggin it’, like the one that set her off last night. But instead, he gave her a hopeful look… mingled with a bit of shock.
“You will?” he asked, obviously surprised by her offer.
God, his voice was so hoarse and raspy; she cringed to think she was responsible for that. “Yeah. It’s my fault, so I’ll take care of you… i-if you don’t mind that is.” The look of shock and then the way he smiled sent relief flooding through her system. She didn’t want to fight with him, didn’t want him to go back to being mad at her. Not regarding this situation, at least.
“No, no, `course I don’. `S jus’…” Sighing heavily, he figured he owed her an apology, too. “`M sorry, Buffy. For givin’ you all that work yesterday. Won’t happen again. I promise.”
She nodded then got up to go get dressed when Spike called out to her.
“While you’re gone, I’ll make some phone calls so we can get the apartment thing figured out.”
“Sounds good. I shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour at most, but I’ll keep my cell phone on in case you need to call me.”
~~~*~~~
By the time Buffy got back, Spike introduced her to the real landlord, Richard Wilkins, who was sitting on the couch next to him. They exchanged pleasantries while Spike stood and took the two brown bags from her to set them down on the kitchen counter before returning to the living room.
“I talked to the neighbors next door and they gave me Mr. Wilkins number. When I called to explain what was goin’ on, he agreed to come over so we can figure somethin’ out,” Spike said as Buffy sat across from them on the recliner.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that both of you were bamboozled by this Mr. Trick guy. And considering I still have yet to rent this place and you both are already here, I’ve no problem letting either of you have it. You just need to decide who wants the place, but I will need to have first and last month’s rent as well as a security deposit.”
Buffy was surprised at how good natured the man was being about all this when he could have simply kicked them both out and said ‘tough luck’. But she had a big problem on her hands as Mr. Wilkins told them just exactly how much money he wanted then looked between her and Spike, waiting for an answer. “Do you mind if… if I could talk with William for just a moment in private? It won’t take long, I promise.”
“No problem,” he replied. “Take your time.”
She stood and motioned Spike to follow her into her bedroom.
“Wha’s this all `bout, luv?” He noticed Buffy was shaking slightly, looking nervous as she kept opening and closing her mouth, clearly having something to say but not knowing how to go about it. He put his hands on her shoulders and cocked his head curiously. “Buffy? Wha’s wrong?”
“I-I…” She gazed into his eyes, hoping against hope he’d take pity on her. “I-don’t-have-anywhere-else-to-go,” she blurted out before sucking her breath back in, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably. She hated the thought of having to rely on him, but what choice did she really have at the moment?
The words came rushing out of her mouth so fast he almost didn’t catch what she’d said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I spent most of my money, my savings when I wrote out that check for this place and… I don’t have enough to secure another apartment.” Understanding dawned on his face but he also frowned and it made tears start to form in her eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered, her voice almost pleading as a tear escaped to run down her cheek. And that’s when Spike pulled her into his embrace and began rubbing her back.
“Please don’ cry, pet. Please.” The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He knew she expected to get the position he now held and so naturally she’d want to move into some place better than… wherever it was she was living before. And here he’d strolled in and basically took over her life. She hugged him back and the small sniffle he heard made up his mind for him.
He held her away from him by her shoulders so he could look her in the eyes. “Listen. I’ve got plenty `f money and I’ve no problem payin’ what Mr. Wilkins `s askin’ for. You can stay here, Buffy. Stay as long as you need until you can afford another place.”
“You mean it? You’re not gonna… toss me out?” He tilted his head and gave her a genuine smile.
“Why would I toss out the best assistant a bloke could ask for?” He wasn’t quite prepared when she rushed back into his arms again to hug him tight, thanking him over and over again.
“I’ll pay half the rent each month, I insist. It’s the least I can do for you letting me stay.”
“Okay, pet. But there’s one stipulation I have… somethin’ I want from you.” He felt her stiffen in his arms before pulling back slowly.
“And what’s that?” Oh please God don’t let him say I have to sleep with him.
“Nurse me back to health this weekend. `S only fair… right?”
“Oh,” she squeaked in astonishment then gave him a sassy smile. “Deal. Of course I was going to do it anyway, but… consider me nurse Buffy.” she chirped brightly.
That certainly conjured up images that if she could read his mind, would earn him a sharp slap to his face. “Right then. Le’s go tell Mr. Wilkins it’ll be the two of us.”
Are things finally looking up for our couple? Don’t hold your breath, Murphy’s Law isn’t through wreaking havoc yet, *winks*. Have a great week and drop me a line if you have some time, thanks.
