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Ch. 11: Better than Ice Cream

When Buffy awoke from her emotional exhaustion-induced nap, she felt rejuvenated. Her dreams had been filled with Spike and Angel swordfighting and punching each other while Willow stood on the side, describing each of the outfits in her closet and its appropriate occasion. Oddly, Dawn was also there, whining and flipping her hair, hitting Angel in the face when he was trying to argue his point. She couldn't quite figure out what it all meant, but she knew one thing: this weirdness with Angel had to stop. She reached for the phone and dialed his number.

"Hi, Angel. It's Buffy." She tried to sound mature and determined, but in her mind she still sounded so naïve.

"Buffy! It's so good to hear your voice. I really enjoyed spending time with you today, you little skipper, you." Angel smiled as he reflected on their heavy petting session in his car; it turned him on to think he had gotten her to bend that straitlaced back of hers. He shifted the phone to hold in with his shoulder and moved his hands to slowly stroke himself. He wondered if she'd be into phone sex...

"Yeah. About that. I don’t think it was such a good idea, and I--"

"Sure it was," Angel interrupted. "We had a good time, didn't we? You sure sounded like you did," he leered.

Buffy mentally vomited when she heard Angel's lascivious tone; the thought of their make-out session only made her slightly queasy and not in the least bit turned on. His voice only strengthened her resolve.

"Angel, I just don't think things are going to work out. I mean, I'm still in high school, and I don't really want to skip school to make out in a car. I'm sure--"

"What? Are you breaking up with me? Why would you do that?" Angel was completely flabbergasted. He was assuming that the next date they'd be having sex, or at least oral sex. She'd seemed so eager to make out, and suddenly his hard-on seemed to go off.

"Well, were we even going out? We only went out a few times, and it's not like I ever called you my boyfriend." Buffy was starting to tire of Angel. They'd never really had great conversations, and this one was definitely bringing out Angel's arrogance. "Look, if you're trying to find someone to hang out with, then fine. But I'm just not really into skipping school for no good reason. I just feel like there should be more to two people than that." As she listened to Angel drone on about why Buffy was lucky to have someone like Angel, she started to throw her hair into a ponytail and get into study mode.

***

Spike was nervous, which seemed silly since he was just going over to Buffy's to work on the project. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't even sure she was expecting her, since they'd left each other so abruptly and angrily. After Buffy had stalked away from him, he'd thought about her words, his words, their interaction. He reflected on the night at the Bronze, when he had almost asked her to dance, his reaction when he'd seen her with Angel, his anger when he'd noticed the hickeys; after all his reflection, he had come to a decision: he was tired. He was tired of all their stupid spats and misunderstandings. Yes, she brought it out of him, but he allowed it. He was ready to apologize, work on their project, and hopefully have a comfortable time being in each other's presence. There was an attraction--he'd already admitted that--and there was no reason to make her get angry at him or vice versa. If nothing else, they could be friends. They already had most of the same classes and the same friends; it seemed stupid, his mind repeated, to succumb to their tendencies of yelling and biting insults. Armed with Ben and Jerry's, he rang the doorbell.

***

"Angel, it really has nothing to do with you. I mean, it does, but it doesn't. Does that make sense?" Buffy paused, trying to figure out how she could explain to Angel why she didn't want to see him anymore when she heard the doorbell ring. Cradling the phone in her shoulder, she walked down to get it. She opened the door and saw Spike.

"Hi, Buffy. I--" Spike was cut off by Buffy's hand and continuation of what seemed to be a heated exchange.

"Angel, that's not what I'm saying," Buffy retorted, exasperated. She was completely frustrated by his inability to understand her, and now she was utterly confused by Spike's presence at the door. She beckoned him to come in, hoping to finish the conversation before moving on to the next issue at hand.

Spike stepped into the foyer, his eyebrow cocked while listening to the animated discussion Buffy was having with Angel. It didn't sound good, and that pleased him. He followed Buffy into the living room and sat on the couch, leaving his backpack and ice cream on the coffee table.

"God, Angel, would you please just listen to what I'm saying? I just don't think I want to be in a relationship with a college guy. I'm sure you’re right in saying that lots of girls would love to date a college guy, but I'm just not one of them."

Angel was livid. He had flattered the girl, did the whole picnic thing, bought her brunch at an expensive restaurant, and she had the nerve to tell him she wasn't interested? He was at a total loss for words.

"Hello?" Buffy waited for his response. Frankly, she was tired of the conversation, of Angel, of her own behavior with him. It was all starting to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

"You know what? If you don't want to be with me, fine. I'm sure there are tons of other high school girls who are more than willing to take your place," Angel spat out, hoping his words would make her reconsider.

"You're completely right. And hey, why not try some college girls? There's a thought. Bye, Angel." She hung up the phone before he could make her wait five minutes for a dull response. She closed her eyes, as if cutting off her vision would make the world she'd created disappear.

"Buffy? You okay?"

Spike's voice broke in and reminded her of the next item on the agenda.

"Spike." She tried to make her voice sound angry, or even annoyed, but she only succeeded in sounding tired. Even drudging up his harsh words from earlier didn't get her blood boiling; Angel had already done that on his own, and she didn't have any more in her. However, persistence was key, and she stirred up the dregs. "What the hell do you want?"

Spike closed his eyes, breathed in, clenched his jaw, and then slowly looked at her. "Look, I know you weren't expecting me, and I know we get a little heated when we're together, so let me just say my piece without interrupting me. Please," he said, looking straight at her with his piercing blue eyes.

Buffy could only nod, taken aback by the seriousness of his voice and face.

"I wanted to apologize for my words earlier today. I don't know why I say those things to you. I don't mean them...You just say these things and I have to react, you know? Like it's the natural thing for me to do. I think we both tend to do that, because you've thrown a few mean things my way as well. But, if we could call it a truce, even if it's just so we get through this project alive, I'd appreciate it." He held out a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip.

Buffy's eyes widened at the ice cream and then looked up at him. And promptly burst into tears.

Spike was completely mystified. He'd braced himself for a biting comment or even an evil eye, but never had he even dreamed she'd cry. He moved forward and gently patted her on the back, hoping that his movements--awkward because of the pint of Ben and Jerry's--were at least remotely comforting.

Buffy felt pretty stupid, crying upon seeing a pint of ice cream, but she couldn't help it. It'd been a long day, and her body was tired of pretending everything was okay. She'd never imagined she'd be crying against Spike's warm and muscular chest (she was crying but not completely unaware). Attempting to regroup, she pulled herself up and breathed in slowly.

"I'm sorry," she said slowly, wiping away her tears. "It's been, well, a pretty shitty day." She smiled as he once again offered her ice cream, and she took it and the plastic spoon. Moving towards the couch, she muttered, "Can't be angry at someone who brings you ice cream."

"Well, that's why I did it, pet." Spike sat down next to her and gave her a napkin while pulling out his own spoon. "Ice cream is the best remedy."

"Totally. How'd you know Mint Chocolate Chip was my favorite?" Buffy asked, in between spoons of ice cream and sniffs of tears.

"Well, what'd be the point of bringing you ice cream if I didn't know your favorite? Gotta be prepared," he said confidently. "Actually, I didn't know. It's my favorite, and I was just being selfish," he said sheepishly, spooning a big hunk of cookie.

"It's a good thing we have the same taste." She smiled and wiped her mouth. "And how'd you know I really needed ice cream today?" she said as she sucked on a large cookie, leaning back into the sofa.

"I heard you and Willow talking about it, and how she wasn't going to be able to today. And we did actually set a time for meeting tonight." Spike licked a drop of ice cream off his thumb.

He looked so cute and vulnerable, a boy who was trying to catch every single drop of ice cream. He heart flipped, and she began to blush. "Well, thanks for the ice cream. It was really really nice of you." She lowered her eyelids and sucked on her dry spoon a little. "And I'm sorry, too. I know I can be a little mean sometimes."

Spike watched as her long lashes brushed against her skin. Her tongue flickered out to lick the spoon, and he felt his insides melt a little. She looked so cute, her face flushed from the cry, hair messily tied up into a ponytail. She seemed so exposed--which made him want to protect her--but he was more than aware of how strong and independent she was. He grinned at this contrast and reached in for more ice cream, only to be met by her own spoon.

"Oh, sorry." They both laughed a little, as they had each gone for the huge chunk of cookie.

"No, go ahead and take it," Buffy said, pushing it towards his spoon.

"No, I brought it for you." Spike moved it against her spoon.

"No, really. I insist. Consider it a thank you." She removed her spoon from the pint and left it for him.

"Well, okay." He began to lift the spoon to his mouth when he saw her watching. He chuckled and began moving it towards her. "Really. You eat it. The longing is all over your face, luv."

"No, it's yours. Hurry up before it melts!" she said, pushing his arm away.

"You better eat it then. Your mom's not going to like ice cream on her rug." Spike moved towards her again.

"No, just--"

"Will you just eat it, pet? I'm trying to be nice here."

"Fine." She opened her mouth and let him feed her. Suddenly, the intimacy of the situation struck both of them, and the moment was left with Spike's spoon awkwardly dangling from Buffy's mouth.

He quickly removed the spoon and then wiped his hands on the napkin. "So, having troubles with the college boy?"

Buffy let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, Angel. I can't believe I made out with him." She viciously attacked the pint again. "Yeah, trouble. Like no more Angel trouble," she said petulantly.

"So your boyfriend is out?" Spike ventured, wanting to confirm the result of the conversation he'd eavesdropped on.

"Boyfriend? Why would you call him my boyfriend? It's not like we went out all that many times," Buffy countered, her emotions from before returning, making her face flushed.

"Well, I just assumed it was your boyfriend giving you hickeys. Ouch!" He rubbed his arm where she had punched him.

"God, you're such a pig. Don't you know you're not supposed to talk about those things with girls?"

"It was a simple question. And didn't your mum teach you not to hit people?" Spike retorted, his voice filled with feigned hurt, his lower lip slightly pouting.

Buffy stared at him and then began laughing. Spike looked surprised, completely confused about her outburst of laughter.

"What?" he asked, wanting to know what she was laughing at. "What?"

Buffy just continued to laugh, the ice cream in her mouth threatening to spew all over the floor. Finally, she gathered her strength and gasped out, "You're pouting!" She began shrieking again.

Spike glared at her and grabbed the pint of ice cream from her hand. "It's not very nice to laugh at people. For that, I'm finishing the ice cream."

Suddenly, Buffy sobered up. "No, no. I'm not laughing anymore. Really. Let me have more," she pleaded, reaching for the pint.

"Nope," Spike said smugly, glad to have the upper hand once again. "No more ice cream for you. That'll teach you to laugh at people." He grinned and shoved another spoonful of Mint Chocolate Cookie into his mouth.

Buffy continued to reach for the ice cream, only to be outstretched by Spike's long arms. "Please," she whined, trying to pout and look sorrowful while sneakily snatching for the container. He laughed at her lame attempts to trick him and continued to taunt her with large cookie chunks. However, Buffy was stubborn; she kept moving closer, and he kept inching back, until she found herself half on top of him in the corner of the couch, the ice cream held out above Spike's head and their heads within inches of each other.

The world seemed to stop, and the air simply hung around them in thick wafts of moist, minty breath. Buffy felt like she should move, not stay on top of Spike, break the awkwardness of their proximity--but his body felt really nice against hers, and he didn't seem to mind her weight.

Spike could feel his own heart battering against hers, and there was a small spot of chocolate on the side of her lips that he really wanted to lick off, but he wasn't sure how he'd react to it. Instead, he brought his hands down slowly, took his spoon, and dangled the last bit of ice cream in front of her lips.

Buffy automatically opened her mouth, not even thinking to take the spoon from him or at least move her body. She felt the cool taste in her mouth and let her tongue savor the delectable flavor. Her eyes fluttered momentarily, and then, finishing the ice cream, gradually shifted her body away from his.

Spike took the empty carton and spoons and put them on the coffee table. "Damn good ice cream," he said quietly, glancing at Buffy.

"Yeah. Damn good."

***

"So you don't think we should do a video? Because if we do some kind of video, then we don't have to perform in front of the class." Buffy was clicking and unclicking her pen, trying to think up something original but not too work-intensive for their project. After they had cleaned up their ice cream, they had decided to dive into study mode, which had turned out to be rather pleasant. Joking and working, they'd developed an easy rapport, making their time together particularly enjoyable, to the surprise and satisfaction of both.

"Good point, luv. I'm just tryin' to suss out who's going to do what. We can't have both of us on screen and behind the camera at the same time. Just won't work." Spike ran his fingers through his hair and tapped a pencil on his notebook, attempting to brainstorm new and crazy ideas.

"Hey, I've got it!" Buffy's eyes brightened, her idea making her face sparkle. "Why don’t we do a music video? Get a song that sort of conveys the tone of the book and then pretend we're VJs or something, giving a little bit of background to the thing. We could even do a couple of videos, to copy the different settings and tones and stuff."

"That's a bloody brilliant idea!" He jumped up and started pacing the room, ideas spouting. "I'm sure me and the guys could come up with something, even if it's just instrumental. And you and I could play the main characters, just with you changing your outfit or something for a different character. And we could do scenes outside and by the beach, and we could use the video editing machine at the library to fix it up, or I can just get Willow to help us out with her skills. Bloody brilliant," he said again, grabbing his notebook and furiously jotting down ideas.

"Yay, me! I am so brimming with good ideas." She grinned again, eager to get started on their project. "But before we start planning the nitty-gritty, let's get that paragraph written. Come on, I'll type it. The computer's in my room." She jumped up, grabbed her notes, and bounded upstairs, Spike close on her heels.

Right as they entered Buffy's room, the phone rang. Spike sat on her bed while she answered it.

"Hello? Hey, Wills." Buffy reached down to turn on the computer as she chatted. Spike kicked off his boots and sat on her bed, continuing his perusal of the quotes on her wall while making himself comfortable as he waited.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, I called him this afternoon. Yeah, and I told him it was over, whatever it was. And he was such an ass about it. So glad I stopped that before it became kinda ugly."

Spike heard the confirmation of Buffy's single-status and smiled to himself. Inspired, he jotted down a quote and taped it on her wall.

"Yeah, I know. But I gotta go. Spike's here, and we're working on the project. Yes, we are." Buffy quickly glanced at Spike, who seemed engrossed in reading the quotes above her bed. "Shut up, Willow," she whispered. "I'll talk to you later. Maybe tonight. Okay. Bye," she said. Buffy hung up the phone and then sat at her desk. "Okay," she said as she swiveled to look at Spike. " Let's get this baby over with."

***

"Yes, I think five paragraphs of explanation about cover the assignment," Spike said, exasperated with Buffy's overzealous response to the assignment. "She only asked for one paragraph. I think we're done." He stretched out on her bed and let out a huge, obnoxious yawn. "Can't even begin to imagine how long it's going to take when we actually start recording."

"You know what? I'm just trying to do my best, get an A. I thought we were working towards the same thing here. And get your feet off Mr. Gordo."

"Oh, is Buffy scared of Mr. Gordo being squished by my feet? Maybe I should just sit on him instead, stuff him in between the wall and the mattress?" he teased, pulling on the pig's pink ears.

"Why is that necessary? Do you enjoy torturing innocent pigs?" Buffy accused as she rescued her poor stuffed friend. She smacked Spike on the thigh and then began printing out the assignment. "Anyway, we're done. Sorry it was so painful for you," she said sarcastically.

"Hey, I think it's a great paper. I'm just saying that you didn't have to write a novel." He stood up and stretched again. "And I should probably get going."

Buffy turned around and saw his abs peek out from his raised t-shirt--a result of his stretching. She tried not to fantasize about rubbing her body against those hard muscles and grabbed the paper from the printer. "All done."

They both headed out of her room and back down to the living room, where all their books were. "So, you gonna hold onto it and turn it in tomorrow?" Spike asked as he packed his bookbag.

"Sure. And both our names are on it." She started packing her own bag as well to ready herself for tomorrow.

"And you're sure you'll be there tomorrow? No making out with Angel?" he taunted, just to hear her tell him they were over.

"God, will you stop? No more Angel. What are you, jealous?" she threw out, just curious and a bit hopeful about his reaction.

"Why should I be jealous? I'm pretty sure I know how you feel about me," he said cockily, throwing her a charming grin.

"Geez, cocky much?" she retorted, not letting the flush on her face fluster her. She began walking towards the front door, knowing that he was about to leave. Abruptly, she turned to look at him. "Thanks again for the ice cream. This was really, well, fun. And comfortable, once we stopped fighting. Thanks for making that first effort," she said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt.

"I've been meaning to, for some time. Make the effort. Knew we'd get along," he said sincerely, smiling softly at her. "Tomorrow we've got a gig at the Bronze. Come watch?" he asked, slinging on his backpack.

"Sure," she said as she opened the door for him. She felt the cool air against her face and welcomed it, hoping it'd steady her racing pulse. "See you tomorrow, Spike."

He reached out, touched her shoulder lightly, and then brushed back a lock of air that had been blown astray by the night breeze. "Tomorrow, pet." And then he walked to his car.

Buffy closed the door and then leaned on it for a while, still feeling his light contact on her. "What a strange day. Strange strange strange." She pushed off the door and headed up the stairs. "And why is he so damn hot?" she muttered.

She threw off her sweatshirt and flopped onto her bed. After resting her eyes for a while, she looked up to be greeted by a new quotation on the wall. "He must have done that while I was on the phone with Willow," she thought to herself. Crawling on her knees, she moved forward to get a closer look.

"First fight. Then fiddle."
~ Gwendolyn Brooks
but what do you think she means by "fiddle"?

Buffy's eyes grew wide, trying to fully process what he was insinuating. She felt she should be mad, or offended, or something. But all she could do was fall back onto her bed with a silly grin on her face, his smirk accompanying her to sleep.





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