Buffy rose up onto her toes and tried to peek over Spike’s shoulder. “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”
Spike turned away from the stove, held up the wooden spoon and glared. “Where are you supposed to be, girly?”
“I just want to help.”
His voice was deep. His tone was firm.“I am cooking dinner for you. You are waiting on the couch.” He might as well have stomped his foot.
Buffy bit her lip to hold back the giggles. The whole thing was adorable. He’d been working on what she thought was meant to be a platter of chicken enchiladas for most of the afternoon. He kept sneaking into his room to make secret calls to whoever was helping him and an hour earlier he’d realized he forgot to get something at the store and talked Charlie Gunn into getting it and meeting him in the parking lot. She wasn’t supposed to know that. She was meant to believe that he’d simply (and very suddenly) needed to move his bike into a more shaded location. He’d tried to hide the bag under his t-shirt when he came back in.
She settled back on the couch and pretended to watch television. It was hard with Spike being so cute.
He was apparently dreadful in the kitchen. She’d heard him murmur at least three words that she didn’t recognize but was pretty sure were not considered polite and three that she knew but didn’t use.
Still, he was trying.
And he would not let her help.
She wasn’t sure what had brought on the cooking thing exactly, but a few days earlier Spike had decided it was totally unacceptable that she had cooked so much for him and that he’d not returned the gesture. If she’d known at the time why he was asking, she’d have told him that grilled cheese sandwiches were her favorite food.
“I hope you’re hungry, kitten. These just happen to be my specialty.”
He’d said something similar twice earlier. It was growing even harder to pretend to believe him. “Yay! I can’t wait for the yumminess.”
He turned and studied her with narrowed eyes. Perhaps she’d gone too far with that one. She gave him her most innocent smile. He raised a single eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
Buffy turned back toward the television and patted her pocket surreptitiously. She wanted to take out the contents and stare at it, but she was trying to play it cool. He’d given her his key. Or, more precisely, her own key to his apartment. She hadn’t really seen that coming either.
It was on the counter when she got there, the sticker from the hardware store that had made the copy still attached. Spike had waited an hour or so before casually gesturing to it. She could come straight there after classes, he’d said, that way she wouldn’t have to wait for him at the “smelly, old shop”. And maybe if she ever needed a quiet place to study...he’d started, before shrugging and turning back to the pan on the stove.
Buffy had slid it into her pocket and kissed his cheek. He’d blushed a little and mumbled that she should make herself to home before he shooed her out of the kitchen area.
He’d played it as a practical matter, but his forced casualness and adorable blushing spoke louder. He was really letting her into his life, trusting, committing...the whole shebang.
It was quite a turn-around in three months.
She wondered if letting herself in to surprise him with dinner was an acceptable use of the key.
“Don’t get too caught up in that movie, kitten,” Spike called out from his spot near the stove. “Supper’s almost done.”
Forty-seven minutes later he placed a plate of multi-colored mush with a red sauce in front of her.
“Wow! This looks great!”
Spike frowned. “Looks aren’t the important thing here. It got a bit jumbled when I was getting it out of the pan.”
“Of course. I just meant it smells really good.” She scooped a big chunk onto her fork and, bracing herself, gave it a try.
Edible. That was best word, Buffy could come up with after sampling her dinner. The chicken seemed fully cooked, so that was a big plus, but other parts, like the onions were still nearly raw.
She made yummy noises anyway.
Spike seemed pleased until he tried the mound on his own plate. “You don’t think it’s too...crunchy?”
“No. Not at all. It’s more...authentic.”
“Right. Of course. I just wasn’t sure if you liked it that way.”
“I do. This is great.” Love helped her finish her entire plateful.
“Did you want more?”
Not even love could get her through another helping.“Not right now. That was a big serving. I’m totally full.” Spike seemed skeptical again, so she changed the subject. “Does your friend Charles have a girlfriend?”
Spike paused while gathering their plates. “Gunn? Why?”
“The carnival is next week. I was thinking we could go and I have a friend and maybe Charles could come--”
He chuckled and headed toward the sink. “Are you trying to fix up my friends, now?”
“It’s not like an official fix-up. I just thought they might get along and it’s always more fun to go the carnival with a group.”
Spike dropped back onto the couch and tugged her closer. “I don’t know, kitten. Gunn is probably the only one of my friends who’s presentable and I’ll admit he could use some help in the girl department, but...the carnival…”
Buffy climbed over, so she was sitting on his thighs facing toward him. “The carnival is awesome. There’s fried dough and cotton candy and cheesecake on a stick and--”
Spike pinched her waist. “Where do you put it all? You’re barely bigger than a mosquito.”
“I get a lot of exercise.” She arched an eyebrow. “Especially lately.”
“Aww...my girl does innuendo now.”
“Proud?”
“Very.”
“Take me to the carnival and we can make out on the ferris wheel.”
“When is this thing and what should I tell Gunn about your friend?”
Buffy grabbed his ears and leaned in to give him a quick, firm kiss. “She’s great. She’s really funny and pretty and…” Slutty was not exactly the right word. Buffy tried to come up with the right way to warn Spike about Anya’s tendency to speak candidly about...everything, but mostly sex.“blunt.”
*******************************
Gun and Roses’ Sweet Child of Mine filled the shop as Spike replaced a carburetor in an old Honda Accord. He hummed along to the music quietly.
“Hey man, there’s a lady up front askin’ for ya.”
Spike frowned at Gunn and half-heartedly wiped his hands on a rag as he strolled to the front room. He paused in the doorway. “M...Joyce? Is there--is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine. I just needed an oil change and I wanted to to have a quick chat with you. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
Spike tensed. What were the chances he was one of the birds she wanted dead? “Oh?”
Joyce chuckled. “It’s nothing worth looking so nervous about, William. Buffy’s birthday is in a couple weeks. I want to coordinate our plans.”
“Right.” He nodded. It was? What kind of crap boyfriend didn’t know when his girl’s birthday was? “Good. Brilliant.”
“It’s okay that you didn’t know. I assumed that she hadn’t told you. She has a thing about her birthday. Thinks they’re cursed or something. But I thought maybe this year, we could convince her otherwise.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Good. Now who do I see about the oil change?”
“Don’t need the shop for that. I could swing by after my shift and handle that for you. Give us a chance to make those plans.”
She’d argued a bit, said that she was happy to pay for the service and didn’t want to trouble him, but he’d insisted and drove over as soon as he finished up at work. It only took twenty minutes and he figured he could use all the brownie points he could get with his girl’s mum.
Joyce brought out a cold beer as he finished up. “I have to admit it is nice to have a handy man around again,” she started. “Though, to be honest, Hank wasn’t very handy. He was an accountant, not really a do-it-himselfer.”
Spike winced. Accountant is a real job, an important, grown-up job, unlike say...a grease monkey. He nodded toward the beer. “Thanks. Just let me get cleaned up first. Messy work.”
“I really appreciate it.”
“‘s not difficult. Just messy.” He gave her a smile and followed her into the house.
Joyce gestured toward the kitchen sink. “I’ll go get you a bigger towel.”
Spike scrubbed to his elbows and was just rinsing the suds off when Joyce returned. He accepted the sage-colored towel she held out. “Thanks. You know I’m gonna buy the shop--got a deal worked out--won’t just be a mechanic forever. In a couple years, I’ll be able buy a little house with a yard and all.”
Joyce’s forehead wrinkled, but she smiled as she handed him the beer. “That’s wonderful, William. Though I think you’re undervaluing your current position. You seem quite good with cars.”
Spike nodded.
“Have a seat. I’ll dig up some cookies and tell you what the girls and I have in mind for Buffy’s birthday.”
*****
“That bottle moved. I hit it and it moved. They should have given you the big bear.” Spike scowled.
“But I like the pig.”
“I hit all three bottles. I should go back. They’re gettin’ away with a bloody scam-operation.” He turned back toward the carnival game in question.
Buffy wrapped her hand around Spike’s arm. “I know you hit the bottle. Everyone saw it move. But I like the pig better than the bear anyway. He’s way cuter. Look.” She held up the curly-tailed, stuffed, pink pig she’d just claimed as Spike’s prize at the carnival game booth. “He’s all round and cuddly. That bear was creepy.”
Anya nodded. “There’s probably a hidden camera in it’s eye.”
Buffy turned toward her, frowning. “What?” She wasn’t sure Anya was helping matters.
“They can’t possibly be making enough money off these games. They probably supplement their income with illegally-obtained nude photos.”
Buffy exchanged shrugs with Charles Gunn before looking back at Spike. “I doubt that...part, but I suspect that same bear has been hanging there for a decade. It’s old and gross.”
Spike arched a single eyebrow. “You like the pig?”
“I love the pig.”
“You have strange taste.”
Buffy grinned. “Obviously. I mean look at who I’m dating.”
His mouth opened a little in surprise before he smirked. “Brat.” His eyes flashed with mischief.
The familiar warm fuzzy feeling filled her tummy.“Yup.”
Spike hooked his finger through a belt loop on her shorts and tugged her closer. “Gonna have to kiss you for that.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss.
Her toes curled against her sandals. Could it always be like this? Could he always make her feel so much with just a look?
Anya cleared her throat. “If you’re done with all that, we can get back to the important thing.”
Spike chuckled, his lips vibrated against hers before he lifted his head. “And what’s that?”
“No one has won me any toys yet.”
Charles dropped an arm over Anya’s shoulders. “You’re right. How do you feel about fish?” He gestured toward a nearby booth. “I can get a ping pong ball into one of those cups easy enough.”
“”Prizes shouldn’t come with bills. Well, aside from taxes, although arguably that’s…”
“Anya?”Buffy bit back a laugh.
“The goldfish. It’s a horrible prize. The fish itself is worth less than a quarter, but if you win it I need to buy a tank and rocks, one of those plastic castles and food for the rest of that fish’s life. You might as well just hand me a bill for $200.”
“Okay. No fish then.” He pointed to a basketball game.”Stuffed rabbits?”
“No.” Her tone was too final to even bother asking for an explanation.
Charles laughed.“How do you feel about those monkeys with the velcro on their hands?” He nodded at a dart game.
“Monkey’s are cute and have rudimentary tool-using skills. Also darts are dangerous, so you’ll appear more masculine and appealing while playing.”
“So that’s good?”
“Yes. Winning a monkey will definitely improve your odds of getting laid later.”
Charles’s eyes widened for a second before he marched Anya toward the dart game.
Buffy giggled. “I told you she was kind of blunt.” She curled her hand around his elbow and soaked in the carnival atmosphere. The jaunty music, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air, the periodic shouts from children riding the Tilt-a-Wirl, she loved it all. She always had. But sharing it with Spike made it all feel new.
Spike nodded. “Blunt’s good. Men are simple creatures, we like being told what a girl wants.”
“Really?”
“Sure thing, love. Makes it easier to keep ‘em happy.”
“In that case, I want to ride the love tunnel.”
“Is there any chance that’s as dirty as it sounds?”
Buffy giggled and pointed to the entrance of a carnival ride meant to emulate a gondola trip in Venice. “It’s a fake boat ride, but once we’re alone in the dark…”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
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