Roomies

A/N--- A HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO'S REVIEWED THIS STORY :D


Buffy flew from where she stood, down the stairs two at a time and threw open the door just as Riley reached up his hand to the bell. He smiled widely at the sight of her in just a towel and she fought back the urge to vomit, opting to shield herself with the door instead.

“What do you want?” She hi, th, the last thing she wanted was anyone coming to see who was at the door and getting into more trouble with her mom.

“It’s Thanksgiving darling, don’t you remember?” He replied, a sickly sweet voice that made her toes want to run for the vomit bucket.

“Remember what?” She fought her urge to slam the door in his face, knowinat hat he simply wouldn’t take it as a hint, “That we went on a few dates? That I dumped you? Or that you were only after me for money I don’t even have?”

“Darling,” he tried again, she would be his if it were the last thing he ever managed to do. “You know that’s simply not true. We were meant for one another, like Romeo and Juliet, it’s fate.”

“And you know they died right?” A familiar drawl came from over her shoulder and she winced. Spike had been there for all that had gone on with Riley, had comforted her when she was confused, listened to her when she needed to vent and had almost kissed her when they were rudely interrupted.

“Was I talking to you?” Riley started, his temper flaring when he saw that the white trash Brit had been invited to Thanksgiving over him.

“No, see but we were busy and you interrupted, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take my little lady back upstairs and you can toddle off.” Spike told him firmly, a smile across his face as he gave doe door a nudge with his toe letting it swing shut in the yanks face.

“This isn’t over!” They heard, muffled through the door as Riley stormed down the path, his tyres screeching as he peeled away from the curb and down the street. Spike looked down at Buffy, his cheerful banter halted before the words even left his mouth as the thunder in her eyes silenced him. She allowed a fat tear to fall from her eye before bolting up the stairs and away from him, mindless of the he he got from under her towel.

He stood in the hallway, his mind completely and utterly blank. He was lost. He had helped her and she had thrown it back in his face. She hadn’t even said what he’d done. Sure, calling her his ‘little lady’ might not have gone down well but what the hell had he done to deserve this holier than thou shit?

Storming up to her room after her, Spike didn’t even pause before throwing open the door, he was unfazed to see her in just her panties, clutching her bra to her chest as she spat at him to get out. He was pissing her off even more as he sat on the bed chuckling mirthlessly.

Managing to clasp her bra she pulled on a shirt and a pair of tight sweats, keeping her face impassive as she went about her nessness as if he wasn’t there.

She was just about to leave the room to help her mother with the dinner preparations when his large hand enclosed around her arm. She tried to pull away but vic vice like grip held her steady, swinging her around to face him.

“What is your problem?” He ground out, letting her go she sank to the bed, pulling at the comforter to avoid talking to him. Snatching her hands and holding them in his he wondered briefly where this dominant streak of his had come from. He broke in mere seconds, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

“What?” She mumbled sullenly.

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” He repeated, careful to keep his voice neutral.
“My problem?” She wrestled a hand free, poking his chest for emphasis “Is that you didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell me who the hell you were!”

“Bloody hell!” Spike spluttered to his defence, “That’s your whole fucking problem?”

She stared him straight in the eye, the distaste tainting her face as she waited for him to say more. It was plain that she was unwilling to say anymore. He sighed, crouching at her level,

“I didn’t know straight away.” He admitted softrunnrunning a hand through his hair while keeping her other hand immobile beneath his. “I met your mom a coupl’weeks back. Didn’t think much of it, not till they pulled out the photos.” He smiled apologetically, his cheekbones giving way to amazingly sculpted dimply cheeks. She looked away, those good looks worked like a charm on her and he knew it.

“There were photos?”

“Yeah.” He breathed, “When my da was around, we werut eut eightish?” He chuckled, “Don’t tell me you don’t mbermber?”

Buffy inhaled noisily, she knew their parents were behind this.

“I remember,” She spoke slowly, piecing things together in her mind as she went, “That picture, in the gallery, we were eight.” She paused, gauging his reaction. “Your mom showed you and my mom showed me, ever get the feeling you’ve been set up?”

“Set up?” His voice echoed hers uneasily. They had been set up by their interfering mothers and they hadn’t rea realised it. And the worst bit? That he had fell for her and as much as she may lust after him he knew that she would never return those feelings.

“They made us fall for each other, making us think about the past not even knowing who we were.” She giggled. “Wonder if they counted on us taking it a step further?”

He smirked, slightly deflated after their non argument that he had geared himself up for but non the less ready for whatever was next. He extended his hand to her, pulling her to her feet and planting a quick kiss on her lips,

“Shall we ask them?”