Art by eyesthatslay
Day One of the Plan – Somewhere in Arkansas
Spike bursts through the door of their cabin in the woods. “Bloody hell!”
Buffy’s already feeling nervous about her little plan, and now her vampire is in a very bad mood. This does not bode well. She fiddles with the apron string tied around her waist, tightening it a bit more than she originally had it. Poking her head around the small kitchen doorway, she asks, “What happened?”
Spike throws his sword on the ground and stomps over to the leather recliner. Plunking down in the seat, he grouses, “Xander happened. That’s what. And that’s the last time you leave me alone with him. I can’t take any more mouth.”
Buffy wants to sit on Spike’s lap and soothe his frazzled nerves, but she has this plan and so she hesitates. “What’d he say this time?” She charged Xander with keeping Spike distracted, but from the sound of it, that hadn’t gone so well.
“You know Harris. . . always going on about. . .” Spike stops short. “Why are you over there hiding behind the door?” He narrows his eyes. “And what’s that smell?”
Buffy sidles out into view, her hip seductively cocked up as she leans against the doorframe. “I’m baking cookies.”
Spike takes in her form. . . her muscled limbs golden in the lamp light and her slight curves hidden only by a very short apron that’s cinched at the waist. His eyes soften and his mouth opens slightly, his tongue roving over one incisor. “Baking, huh?”
Leaning back, she snags a giant chocolate chip cookie off the cooling rack and sashays over to him, perching on his knee. His fingers move up her thighs to her hips, and he pulls her closer, so she can feel how much he already wants her. She holds up the cookie, and he takes a bite. As he slowly chews, he pinches off pieces and feeds his Slayer. She takes the opportunity to lick the melted chocolate from his index finger in a way that makes him groan and dive in for a kiss.
“What’s this about, love?” He’s already forgotten how aggravating the whelp was and is solely focused on the heat of her breath on his lips and the taste of leftover chocolate in her mouth.
Her mind scrambles around. She forgot to put together a speech, and she is tingling in a good way from being in Spike’s arms, so she fumbles a bit with the delivery, “Well, it’s our anniversary. . . sort of. . . I mean, we’ve been together a while, and since we don’t really have a set anniversary, I thought I’d do something meaningful to celebrate it with you. . . something that means something to us. You always do such wonderful, thoughtful things, and well, I thought I’d do something. . . or rather somethings symbolic. . . like Willow and her candle. And I was reading all the Watcher’s Diaries that Giles finally got up the courage to scan into the computer, and well, it got me thinking, which as you know, Buffy and thinky thoughts don’t always lead to goodness, but in this case. . .”
She trails off as he leans his forehead against hers, his touch steadying her as it always does. “Not really following, love, but let me summarize it, and you tell me if it’s right.”
Buffy nods, heart pounding as he brushes back her hair, his hand moving slowly over her chest and down to her belly.
“You’re doing something to mark our anniversary, something to make me feel special?”
She nods again. “Uh huh.”
His fingers find warm, private places beneath her apron that make her squirm. “Didn’t have to do that, pet; you already make me feel special every day just by being here.”
Her eyes shining at his words, she deliberately frees him, and they make slow, tender love in the chair, limbs tangled together as she rides him up and down. When they both reach bliss, she curls up in his lap with her head next to his, her feet and calves dangling over the arm of the chair.
He breaks their peaceful reverie first, “What I don’t understand, love, is why the chocolate chip cookies?”
Her brain is functioning a bit better again, and she says, “To remind you of the time that Willow be-spelled us, and we were in love.” And there’s the cookie dough metaphor, but she so doesn’t want to go there. She nuzzles his cheek with affection and admits something she’s never admitted to anyone before, “Because after the spell was the first time I really felt something for you.”
He’s completely taken aback by her confession, “Really?”
“Really. It’s not something I think I could be honest with myself about at the time for lots of reasons too numerous to go into right now.” She takes a deep breath, “But I really did.”
He smirks a little, proud of himself, “I knew it.”
She punches him lightly on the arm. “You did not!”
“You had your defenses up. . . couldn’t let on about anything because of what your Scoobies might think.”
She finds it easy to accept his words as true now that so much time has passed. “I did kinda avoid you, huh?”
“Just a bit.”
She remembers doing lots of worse things to push him away after that, but she doesn’t want to push him away now or revisit past hurts, so she wraps her arms around his midsection, changing the subject, “When was the first time you knew you had feelings for me?”
Spike has thought about this a lot, so his words come easy, “The first time I saw you. . . when you were dancing with your friends at the Bronze.”
Now she’s incredulous. “The time you saw me and were plotting my death?”
“Dru saw it before I ever did, and after what happened between us, well, I did a lot of thinking, and yep, that’s the moment.” His fingers rove over her bare bottom.
“You did not love me at first sight.”
“Well, no. By that point, I wasn’t that much of a sap, but the first feeling I had for you? Watching you be so carefree with your friends, watching you dance? That’s when it all started for me.”
“You were doomed.” She nips his earlobe.
He isn’t too proud to admit it. “Yeah, pet, I really was.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/584863.html