Mi Casa Su Casa
Disclaimer: I only own my computer.
Summary: For Saber's challenge. Pinball machine, romance novels, pets and Kermit and ...stuff at Spike's house. :)
Feedback is what inspires people to write. I really want to hear from you!! :-)
Please mail me and tell me what you think. Your opinion means a LOT! email@example.com
Buffy could not believe her luck. She and Spike had been chased through the sewers for the last hour and as she pushed the manhole cover up over her head, she realized that rain was pouring by the bucket full. Just like it had been the night she and Angel had been through the same sewer and had made love. As a matter of fact, Buffy was convinced it was the same manhole cover. Almost the same situation, except she hated who she was with this time. Well, kinda.
She turned quickly, offering her hand to Spike but he was already out. He quickly dropped the cover back on before he brushed past her. “Let’s go.”
“I’m going home.” Buffy was about to go the opposite direction when he grabbed her from behind and yanked her along beside him.
“You’ll die from pneumonia if you go all the way to your house. My place is just up the road.” He hated that fact. Spike despised the fact that he had a house anywhere in Sunnydale and he hated the fact that she was going to see it. His house and the contents were HIS business and he didn’t want her, or anyone for that matter, in any other aspect of his business. “I hate you, Slayer.”
Buffy heard him mumble the words and it stung her more than she would have liked. But despite the fact that he was horrible by nature, as long as he was helping her it couldn’t hurt him to be remotely nice. “I told you to go away and not follow me.”
He cast a sidelong glance in her direction, took notice of the fact her nipples were erect and pointing through her flimsy shirt and shook his head. “Since when do I do any damn thing you say? And why the hell can’t you have the sense to wear a coat?”
“I don’t have to wear an ankle length piece of cow ass to prove anything.” She tried not to shiver even though she was so cold she expected to go out the way Jack did in Titanic.
“All it would prove is that you are smart enough to realize you get cold, nitwit.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster and then realized that HE had a coat on and SHE didn’t. Feeling even angrier, he stripped it off of his shoulders and slung it at her. “There. I’ve lost my self-respect by working with you so what’s a coat?”
“I don’t want your old coat! No telling where it’s been.” Buffy caught it anyway and slid her arms into the sleeves. There was a nice smell to it, masculine and leathery. She pulled it around her firmly, loving the way it seemed to swallow her whole.
“Stop dragging the damn thing on the ground. Why in hell are you so short? I hate short people. I hate short blond people and I hate short blond people who are Slayers with a fiery passion.” He hated liars too so he hated himself. There was absolutely nothing worse than lying to yourself and he kept denying the fact he liked her. And he had REALLY liked looking at her nipples through her shirt and now he couldn't.
Buffy made a face at him and picked up her pace, stepping into the street. “You happen to be short and blond yourself. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve slayed a thing or two tonight.”
“Bloody hell!” He cried as they started across the road and his boot hit an oil slick. The wet pavement soaked through the back of his pants and shirt as he sprawled flat on his back, too shocked to move. Without looking at the Slayer, he snapped. “When I get up from here I am going to kick your arse.”
Shaking with silent laughter, Buffy doubled over and pointed at him. It was such a funny sight that she couldn’t even breathe. He was spread eagle right across the yellow line and his yellow-blond hair was plastered all over his head. She had never seen him with bangs and it made him look like he was a teenager with a bad hair cut. Unable to keep it in, she shrieked, “You look so goofy!”
“What’s your excuse?” Spike growled as he got to his feet. Damn her for laughing and for having breasts and nipples and his coat. How dare she slip into his mind when he didn’t want her there.
Still giggling, she followed him, looking forward to getting warm and seeing what kind of décor Spike favored now that he had come to Sunnydale and decided to help the Scooby Gang. Anything would be better than Angel’s mansion. Right?
“Wrong!” Spike growled as he yanked his Kermit the Frog puppet out of the Slayer’s grip. “It isn’t even mine and that still doesn’t give you the right to just touch stuff. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have manners when you are a guest in MY house.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow at the Spike, pondering his grouchiness. The puppet had been lying on his coffee table and practically invited her to pick it up and aggravate the vampire with it. She had been shocked by the beauty of the outside of his house, with it’s creamy beige vinyl siding and green trim, complete with a porch strewn with ferns, and she was stunned at the beauty of the inside. The front door had opened into a small foyer and he had taken the coat and put it in a closet there. Two steps led downward into a spacious living room with thick beige carpet and matching drapes. It had a large stone fireplace that ran the entire length of one wall and a leather sectional sofa angled in front of it. A recliner sat off to one side with a reading lamp over it and the table next to it was covered with books. She hopped into the chair and rifled over the contents on the table.
Spike watched her snoop around the books and gritted his teeth. Figuring it was safe to leave her alone for a few minutes, he turned quickly and walked down the hallway to his bedroom to find her something to wear. Anything he had was sure to be ten sizes too big and he decided to cover her as much as possible. More for his benefit than hers. The fact that she was cold had nothing to do with it. He didn’t want to see any of her skin or the curves of her tiny body.
Astonished, Buffy picked up the only hardback that lay among the dog-eared romance novels on the end table. **Spike is reading ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus’ and why the hell would he do that?** When she lifted the book into her lap several pieces of paper fell out and she was about to read them when he snatched it out of her grip.
“Is your nose broken?” He stuffed the papers back into the book angrily.
“No!” Buffy’s hand shot to her nose, thinking that he was about to comment on the “thing” about it that Cordy had always commented on.
“Then keep it on your damn face and out of my books!” Spike tossed the clothes in her lap and added, “Bathroom is down the hall.”
Angry at him for being such a rude asshole all the time, she stormed out of the room and shoved open the first door she came too. Buffy fumbled for the light switch and then screamed bloody murder when a large bird flew at her head. She ducked quick and moved further into the room to get out of its line of fire. There were several fake trees and birdhouses all over the place. Two smaller birds sat together on a large wooden perch and whistled as the large bird took flight again and sailed toward the Slayer.
Spike shoved the door open and caught the pair of pants that Buffy was about to toss at his bird. “Don’t do that!”
“It’s trying to bite me!” She cried, rushing toward the open door.
“Idol doesn’t bite.” Spike held up a hand and the bird landed on it, clutching him around the fingers with it’s long talons.
Buffy watched with fascination as Spike brought the bird’s face to his mouth and gave it several kisses on the beak. The bird nipped gently on the vampire’s lip and moved to preen the water out of his hair. The two smaller birds took flight and one landed on top of Spike’s head while the other rested on his shoulder. He chuckled as the one on his shoulder tugged his ear and then remembered that the Slayer was in the room watching him look like a pansy. “The two small ones are cockatiels and the big one is a cockatoo.”
“What are the small ones named?” Buffy asked, admiring the yellow-headed birds. They weren’t quite as intimidating as the big white one who Spike had called Idol.
“Sonny and Cher.” He smiled a little. “And not a word. They were already named when I got them.”
As if on cue, the one on top of his head chirped something that sounded like, “Cher” and the other replied by squawking, ‘I got you, babe.’
Before she could reply, Buffy sneezed and the birds took off again, heading back to their perches. Spike gathered the clothing she had tried to toss at the bird and grabbed her arm, pulling her down the hallway. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
He slammed the bathroom door, leaving Buffy alone and went back into the room that his birds were in. “If you all want to live to see day DO NOT repeat any of the things you’ve heard me say no matter how often you’ve heard me say it.”
“Damn Slayer.” Idol replied with an squeaky accent that matched Spike’s perfectly. “Bloody hell, damn Slayer.”
Spike shook his head and leaned against the wall. “Here it comes.”
“Damn Slayer, damn Slayer. She’s so cute. I’ll shag her to death. Damn Slayer. Damn Slayer.” Idol’s head began to bob up and down as he mimicked the things that Spike frequently said. “Cor, she’s hot.”
“Please shut up. Haven’t I made you a nice home? Don’t I feed you the most expensive seed? Don’t I play with you?” The vampire was practically frantic. If Buffy heard this…
Idol shrieked. “I bet she’s so wet. Hot, hot, hot, Slayer. Slllllaaaaayyyyyeeeerrrrr. Damn Slayer.”
If he wasn’t afraid of spontaneously combusting, Spike would have started praying right then. Instead, he flipped the light off, hoping it would quiet the animal and it would go to sleep. He paused for several minutes outside the door before he went into his living room to build a fire. “Damn Slayer.” He growled.
Buffy stepped out of the shower and glanced around for a towel. When she didn’t see one lying out in the open, she pulled open the cabinet doors under the sink. She forgot what she was doing when she found a Playboy magazine. Buffy flipped it open and decided to air dry as she glanced at the photos. Within seconds, she was engrossed in a smutty story and was licking her lips and breathing hard.
Spike had heard her shut the shower off and wondered what was taking her so long. It suddenly dawned on him that all his towels were in the dryer so he hurried to the laundry room to dig one out. He paused outside the door and put an ear against it. When he heard her gasp, he leaned down to peek through the keyhole, detesting himself for it. He almost banged his head into it when he caught sight of Buffy completely naked with one of her hands between her legs. He watched her for several minutes before he decided to interrupt her for having the audacity to masturbate in his bathroom. Without him.
“Slayer!” He pounded on the door twice and hid his laughter when he heard something slam loudly in the room and she swore. “What the hell are you doing? Playing with yourself? I brought you a towel.”
Buffy bounced around the room gripping her fingers. She had tossed the magazine back under the sink when he knocked and had wound up slamming her hand in the door. “Damn you, Spike. No, I wasn’t. Hang the towel on the door knob and go to hell.”
He hung it there and walked into his bedroom to find a baggier shirt for himself to hide his erection. Satisfied that it wasn’t obvious under his South Park shirt, he fired up the pinball machine against the far wall of the room to take his mind off the fact that Buffy looked even better naked than he could have ever imagined.
Dressed in what could only be described as long johns, Buffy followed the sound of a video game down the hallway. She poked her head around the doorway and saw a king size sleigh bed that was neatly made with a dark blue satin comforter. The walls had various colorful paintings of beaches and sunrises and there was a dresser against one wall that was covered with more paperbacks. Her gaze finally rested on Spike, who had his back to her playing a pinball machine. It made a loud buzzing sound and lit up, proclaiming that Spike had lost.
He leaned down to flip the power to it off when he noticed Buffy. “I made you a bed on the sofa. I don’t think the storm will let up any time soon.”
“Dukes of Hazzard!” Buffy cried and walked to stand beside the pinball machine. “I loved that show!”
“YOU watched the Dukes of Hazzard?” Spike smiled, adding that to the list of things he found likable about her. It was right up there with her habit of chewing her lower lip when Giles lectured her. Or the way she twirled her hair around her fingers while she read from the thick books Giles had. He also liked the way she…
“Who didn’t!? I used to have such a crush on Beau Duke. God, his blond hair and blue eyes and…oh…god…” She suddenly realized that she was describing Spike. “I am really good at this game.”
“Is that so?” Spike knew perfectly well why she had suddenly changed the subject. Could she possibly think HE was handsome? “Wanna play against me?”
“I don’t want to humiliate you any further tonight, Spike. You would lose and feel worse about yourself.” Buffy shook her head and smiled. “My dad and I used to eat at this diner that had this same machine and he’d never beat me.”
“I’m so sure I could beat you I’m willing to make a bet.” He leaned across the glass top and looked up at her. “If I don’t win, you can ask me to do anything. But if I win, I can ask you to do anything.”
“No way. You’re a pervert and I’m not.”
Spike smirked at her before he replied. “I wasn’t the one looking at dirty magazines in the bathroom just now.”
Buffy felt all the blood rush to her head and she glared at the vampire, her hazel eyes blazing against her red cheeks. “You were watching me? How dare you watch me!! It was your magazine.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Spike laughed. He hadn’t seen that part and that was even cuter.
“You weren’t watching?”
“No, of course not.” He lied, enjoying her discomfort.
“Bed. I…am…going…” She turned to leave, convinced that if she didn’t leave right then she would sink into the floor from humiliation.
“Slayer, unless you want me to announce that you have a Playboy fetish you better humor me.” He watched her stop halfway and smiled at the way her shoulders sagged in defeat.
She turned to face him and said, “Fine. If…no…WHEN I win, you have to promise not to ever bring up anything about that. I wasn’t doing that anyway.”
“I’m sure you weren’t.” He winked at her and restarted the game.
“NO!” Buffy cried. “Let’s do three out of five!”
“You lost!” Spike shook his head. “You shook on this and everything. We agreed that the winner of two out of three takes all.”
“You cheated!” She started to storm out of the room but turned to add, “And if you tell .. I’ll kill you, Spike.”
“I won’t tell if you keep up your end of the deal.” He walked to where she stood and stared down at her intently. “You agreed to it.”
“I am NOT kissing you.”
“Fine, I’ll tell that you also like to bring yourself off right after a shower.” Spike’s eyes bulged as he realized what he’d just said. He had just admitted that he had indeed peeked.
Buffy poked a finger in his chest and screamed, “YOU WERE WATCHING!”
“I’m a pervert, you said so yourself!” He yelled back. “If you keep your word on this then I won’t say a thing about it but if you don’t…”
Almost in tears, she stared at the floor. “Fine, Spike. Have your fun.”
“Fine.” Spike stepped forward and tilted her head back so he could look at her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes so he said, “Look at me.”
Buffy stared at him angrily. “Just do it.”
With his eyes on hers, he trailed a thumb down her cheek and over her lips. His jaw had tightened, making his cheekbones more pronounced and he ran his tongue out to moisten his own lips. **If I kiss her I can’t stop. I’ll just want more and be miserable the rest of the night.**
She stared at the way the light danced on his features, making them sharper and even better looking. Buffy was afraid that she would like him kissing her. She hadn’t been kissed at all since Angel and all she could think about now was how much she wanted to feel Spike’s mouth on hers. **Please don’t let me like this as much as I want to. Let him be a bad kisser.**
As much as he would have liked to ravish her lips with his, he didn’t feel like a cold shower every night for the next three years to get over it. Spike closed his eyes and leaned forward, keeping her from bringing her mouth up to his by gripping her chin. He planted a kiss on her forehead and backed away quickly. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight?” She watched as he turned and headed through a door in the corner of the room. Buffy stood there, not believing what he had just done, until she heard him turn a shower on and realized he was in the master bathroom. She turned quickly and padded down the hallway into the living room again.
**Why didn’t he kiss me? He must have been too repulsed by the thought and really does hate me. Why did I have to like it when I thought he was going to kiss me? Why am I so stupid? Why can’t I die now?** She burrowed herself in the cover and tried to get comfortable but she couldn’t. Getting back to her feet, she flopped back into the recliner, deciding to flip through the books on the table again.
One had a particularly interesting cover so she lifted it and studied it closely. The photo showed a man with short blond hair and a woman with hair just as blond but long and wavy. Buffy admired the lean, firm skin of the man’s chest, visible through his open shirt. He was clinging to the woman with a passionate embrace and she had her hands wound through his hair, clutching his head to her breast.
Buffy flipped it open and sucked in her breath. Someone had written her name in beautiful calligraphy and had drawn a heart around it. Flipping through quickly, she saw her name several more times and almost choked when she made it to the back jacket. There was a remarkable caricature of her sketched with a black pen. In it, she was holding a rose near her cheek and stared into the distance. Tossing that book back into the pile, she lifted another and found that it had similar markings in it. Her name, small sketchings made with pencils or ink and the word Slayer written in beautiful letters littered several of the books.
Thoroughly freaked out and not wanting to be caught, she flung herself back on the couch and pulled the cover over her head. **OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODSPIKELIKESME…SPIKE…LIKES…ME… does Spike like me? Why didn’t he kiss me then?**
Thunder clapped loudly and the power went off. Silence swallowed the house, snuffing out the whirring of the ceiling fan, the sound of his fish tank and the sound of the central air conditioning. Buffy was about to get back up and look out the window when she heard it.
“Damn Slayer! Cor, she’s hot. I’ll shag her to death. Slayer. Slayer.” The words were unmistakable and crystal clear.
The Slayer put one hand over her mouth and grinned against her palm. Birds repeated what they heard a lot. Was Spike talking about her? Out loud? **Well, duh Buffy! How many people would teach their bird to yell about the Slayer? In an accent no less?**
“Bloody hell, I want her.” Idol squawked even louder. “I want that Slayer. Damn Slayer.”
**He wants me! He wants to shag me!! SHAG! Oh GOD!!**
Spike paused in the doorway of his bedroom and looked around for a stake. He was going to kill himself. That was the only logical thing to do because his bird was screaming as loud as it could and there was no way Buffy wasn’t hearing it. When he didn’t see anything to ram through his chest, he turned quickly and threw himself on his bed. **Sleep. I’ll just sleep.**
Buffy walked into his room and raised an eyebrow when she saw him clutching a pillow on top of his head. “Spike?”
“Get lost.” He mumbled.
“I need to talk to you.” She replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her gaze roamed over his stomach and she was tempted to touch it to see if it felt as smooth and perfect as it looked. All he had on were plaid pajama bottoms and any other time she would have a million snide comments about that but now all she could think about was how sexy he looked in them. He was perfect.
Spike tossed the pillow and said, “Get lost. How hard is that to comprehend? And don’t sit on my bed. It’s bad enough that you’re in my house at all.”
Repressing the urge to punch him, she shook her head. “I think I figured out why you are so mean to me.”
“Stop trying to figure it out. I’m willing to tell you. It’s because you’re human. You’re a Slayer. You’re a woman. You’re a bitch and your mother named you BUFFY which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life!” He paused, took and dramatic breath that he didn’t even need and added, “Do I need to go on.”
“My turn.” Buffy took a much-needed deep breath and said. “You like me. You like me a LOT and you don’t care if I’m human or the Slayer. And if you think my damn name is so stupid why do you write it on all your books? I'll tell you!! Because you LIKE me.”
“You little snoop!” He shot to his feet and charged out of the room, down the hallway and back into the living room. Seeing for himself that she had indeed rifled through his books, Spike picked up several and threw them at the wall. “You had no right! And none of that means a damn thing. It isn’t what you think!”
Smiling, the Slayer shrugged. “Explain it then.”
“I hate you.” Sneered the vampire.
“I know you don’t.” Buffy took several steps toward him.
“How do you know?” Spike didn’t walk away from her even though his mind was screaming for him to run.
“A little birdie told me.” When she was close enough, she dared to run her hand over his stomach, satisfied that she had been right about how smooth it was.
Morning came, cascading bright light into the room where the birds were. Idol shook his feathers and leaned his head to one side, listening intently to the sounds in the next room. Then he repeated exactly what he’d heard for half the night.
“Yes…oh…Spike…Cor, so good…so bloody good…Spike...Spike that tickles…no, don’t stop..Yes, yes yes yes yes yes yes….”
Author: Chelle Storey
E-mail: Let me know what you think!!! Back