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Author's Chapter Notes:
Spuffy chapter, here we go! Hope you all enjoy it. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew, you'll know where it is!
And oh dear, since I seemed to have forgotten it before...let me just say now that I own nothing! Joss and Co. own it all. Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!
Neither of them had worked on the scene before this moment. Indeed, neither of them had spoken or seen one another since two days ago when they’d exchange zippy comebacks.

So it stands to reason that they should have been terrified to perform their scene, on their feet, in front of their classmates and teacher. But they weren’t terrified.

They were furious.

When Giles called their names they both stood immediately and battled to reach the stage area first. Spike got there a fraction sooner, giving Buffy a smug smile. Buffy snickered and rolled her eyes as she moved across the stage to her starting position. Spike moved to the center of the slightly raised platform and readied himself. Giles gave them the go ahead and so they began.

Running on pure adrenaline, Buffy stormed towards him, his back facing her. She stopped a few feet away and slammed her foot down with a resounding bang.

Spike turned around and all but drawled, “Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.”

“Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: They call me Katherine that do talk of me.”

Spike halted for the briefest second, seeing the long passage before him and skipped a few lines, and spewing, “Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.”

Buffy, to her credit, had not missed a single line, despite the nerves and fury that were roaring inside her. She threw her head back and laughed through her next sentence, ending with two sharp arms held akimbo to her waist.

“Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither remove you hence: I knew you at the first you were a moveable.”

Spike watched her in equal parts fascination and frustration as he said his next line, “Why, what's a moveable?”

“A join'd-stool.”

Buffy and Spike must have seen the next line of his at the same time, because they caught one another’s stare as Buffy made a quick dash to run away right as Spike got the idea to reach for her waist, “Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.”

Spike laughed with glee as he held Buffy fiercely against him with one solid arm as his other hand held his script. Buffy’s script was momentarily being crumpled as she clawed at the blonde man’s forearm in a futile attempt to release herself.

As freedom appeared increasingly slim, Buffy instinctively howled and pushed her backside into Spike’s lap in an effort to push him off. That however, only served to ignite something else entirely. The sudden friction of Buffy’s supple ass rubbing up against Spike’s crotch caused him to groan audibly and Buffy blushed with a horrified groan.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you!” Buffy cried angrily as Spike held onto to her even tighter than before.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you!” Spike snapped back, giving her backside a little bump with his crotch as he spoke his line.

Buffy railed and all but screamed her next line in rage, which only served to amuse Spike more as he responded with;

“Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry,” he cackled with delight as Buffy tried to coordinate her script with her free hand that had stopped trying to pry Spike’s arm away and had managed to rest on top of his arm instead.

She thrust backwards again, now fully aware of the bulge in his pants, and attempting to distract him enough to release her.

“If I be waspish, best beware my sting,” she spat, thrusting back again at the end of the line.

But Buffy’s attempts were not having an aggravating affect on Spike. He was hell-bent now more than ever to keep her right in this position. Just the right amount of pressure and it was a blissful mix of pleasure and pain.

“Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail,” Spike answered back, turning Buffy away from his body finally only to smack her firmly on the ass as he said his line.

“In his tongue,” Buffy gasped and reached for her tender bottom before she realized that Spike had released her. She narrowed her eyes, ready to attack once more.

“Whose tongue?” Spike quipped, curling his behind his teeth and leering at her like he’d done earlier.

Buffy felt the quiver in her voice suddenly but recovered quickly, “Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.”

Spike laughed loudly as he spoke, “What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.”

Buffy had no reservations about her next line and she marched forward and said, “That I'll try,” and slapped a vicious palm across Spike’s face.

The class audibly gasped and for a moment, Buffy was pulled out the trance she’d been under during the scene. She watched for a second as Spike kept his face turned away, his chest slightly heaving from the unexpected force of the tiny girl’s smack.
Then, before she too could recover, Spike yanked her by the wrist and dragged her up against him, her offending hand locked in his as his other hand held her firmly by the small of her back, her scripted hand wedged between their two bodies. Buffy emitted a tiny squeak as Spike squeezed her wrist before tilting his head and lowering his mouth to her ear.

“I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again,” he whispered in a low, threatening tone.

For some reason, Buffy didn’t hear it as threatening, she heard it as some sort of wicked promise and that sudden thought scared the shit out of her.

Since her script was trapped between them, and Spike’s grasp of her had yet to be relinquished, Buffy uttered the only line she could think of to finish the scene.

She lifted herself onto her toes and returned Spike’s whisper, “I chafe you if I tarry: let me go.”

Clapping rang out suddenly, including a wolf-whistle, which Spike was certain came from Angel. In his periphery, Spike could see Giles stand up from his seat and regale the class with the finer details of the next assignment, but Spike wasn’t really paying attention.

He and Buffy held their position for a beat longer before realizing they could in fact, separate. They pushed away quickly, each of them sparing the other a quick glance before tearing off to collect their belongings and leave.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“What the hell was that?” Angel crowed mirthfully as he, Spike and Cordelia made their way out the doors from the Acting studio.

“S’nothing,” Spike shrugged, still a bit shaken by what had actually happened in class.

“Nothing my ass!” Angel continued, oblivious.

He knew girls like Buffy, high and mighty, holier than thou attitudes, blah blah blah…
Her pride was a precious thing and if she felt as though Spike was already onto her he’d lose her completely. And then he’d be forever out 500 bucks.

Spike had been fully prepared for a fight, and Buffy had given him one from the beginning. And he’d been fully prepared to get frustrated by the bint’s utter lack of reaction to things that typically made girls swoon over him….
But something had occurred during that scene that he wasn’t fully prepared for…

Sure, she was attractive…gorgeous, really. But her insufferable self-righteous attitude was enough to drive a bloke ‘round the bend. He didn’t need her to be gorgeous or athletic and fiery…there were plenty of attractive girls on campus he could admire and use accordingly. He needed her to lower her defenses; and that would not come easily. It just made it more enjoyable that she looked ridiculously hot in that tight, light blue cashmere sweater and those black leather pants…writhing against him as she struggled to break free while he laughed in delight. Her beautifully bronzed face tinged with a rosy blush…her chest heaving up and down as she panted, desperately trying to catch her breath; her small but delicious breasts pushing her sweater’s fibers to their limits with every inhalation….

Oh god, he thought to himself. She totally turned him on…

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Buffy tore through the halls of the acting studio; her bag carelessly slung over her shoulder, her face still flushed from playing out that scene with Spike.

“It was nothing,” she said to herself, “Just adrenaline. The rush of public performance….it was nothing…”

She found herself constantly looking around as she made her way through the doors and out into the courtyard. She’d left in a hurry, but she didn’t want to chance running into anyone from class on her way out. She didn’t need their curious glances or their questions…

Not that anyone would say anything…because nothing happened, she reminded herself.

It was just raw….natural….talent! Yes, talent! She and Spike were just some of those lucky few of whom acting came naturally….and she’d admit some modest chemistry existed between them to have pulled off their scene without any prior rehearsal…..but that was all.

She supposed Spike was remotely good-looking….it’s not like she was blind…she found men attractive all the time. But then she’d feel pity that they’d inevitably screw her over if she put her trust in them. It wasn’t worth it. It was never worth it…even if he had piercing blue eyes and gorgeous bow lips…and deadly cheekbones that made his face seem chiseled. Even if his body was cut like a god’s, all sinewy and compacted muscle…

But none of this mattered. Spike had been a presumptuous, antagonistic asshole from the first day she’d met him. He’d rattled her with his too insightful comments about her father and she wouldn’t soon forget that. No, it didn’t matter what she’d felt back there during that scene…or the image of his face when he’d stared back at her or the sensation of his strong arms holding her against him….

He was a guy. The worst of the worst, she’d wager…with his leather coat and punkish looks, his cocky smirk and bad boy swagger routine…

Oh god, she thought to herself. He totally turned her on.


Chapter End Notes:
So...what'd ya think? There's trouble a-brewing....

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