Five Servings A Day

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Chapter 9: Is that a Stake in your Pocket Or... ?
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A few blocks later, Spike calls to Buffy. “Luv, I really think it’s safe to slow down now, don’t you?” She still has his hand in a death grip, the pink lunchbox swinging from her other hand as she runs. At his words, she slows down and finally stops.

Face lightly flushed from the alcohol and excitement...and maybe something else, Buffy looks back the way they came. No one is on the street. “Guess you’re right. Doesn’t look they followed us.”

“Probably didn’t bloody well notice yet, pet. “And they certainly didn’t see me. Much too clever for that.”

Buffy smirks up at him, forgetting for the hundredth time tonight that she violently dislikes this vampire. Possibly because she no longer does. He’s much more interesting than she thought. Oh, and impossibly hot. That helps.

“Yeah. Guess it’s safe. Um...” Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip, shooting glances at Spike. He half expects her to draw little circles on the ground with her toe. “...so, I just wantedsay.say... y’know, thanks. For getting my lunchbox back.” She looks up at him a little longer this time, smiling hesitantly.

Spike is startled by her sudden sincerity. It’s very unexpected. And he’s quite sure the Slayer has never thanked him for anythin“No “No problem, Slayer.” He wants to say why he did it, but he is not altogether sure himself. Something to do with her smile and the light in her eyes when she looked at him before they danced. Made him want to do anything to keep it going. The way she is looking at him right now is not bad, either. Thoughts of teasing or pissing the Slayer off this weekend have officially and permanently migrated into much more naughty territory.

Feeling self-conscious, Buffy lowers her eyes again. From the corner of her vision, she sees something quiteangeange. Her hand. Her hand still wrapped around Spike’s. The realization that the two of them are standing in the middle of a street holding hands hits her. Her eyes back on Spike’s are a little wider as she quickly releases him. When she lets go, Spike realizes they were holding hands, too. The fact they were both too comfortable to notice it is probably the part that freaks them both the most.

The silence is awkward and almost physically painful. Buffy tries to look everywhere but at Spike and wishes she could regain the easy fun they were sharing just minutes ago. And maybe some more of that intense groping, too. Spike also keeps his eyes down to the street.

All of a sudden, Spike jerks his head up. Before shn ren react, he shoves Buffy to the side, hard. Stumbling off her high-heeled sandals, Buffy hits the pavement. “Hey!” Her tone is indignant until she sees why he pushed her. And realizes he’s not where he was a few seconds ago. The vampire who was clearly about to tackle Buffy is on top of Spike on the pavement a few feet away. Buffy, head swimming wiequiequila, decides against standing up quickly and instead crawls over to the fracas.

“Get off him! I’m the only one that gets to tackle Spike!” Spike pauses in his struggle to look over at Buffy, eyebrows raised. Just then, the other vampire connects with a sharp left to Spike’s face.

“Bloody hell!”

Buffy blushes as she reas whs what she said and that it just got Spike punched. “Sorry!” She thinks to herself that helping would be a good idea. With a good wind-up swing, she clocks the vampire across the cheek with her Barbie lunchbox. A resounding whack echoes as plastic meets bone. The vamp goes flying off Spike, landing next to him on the street. Setting her lunchbox down carefully, Buffy notices the bottle of tequila also sitting on the street and wonders when the hell he had time to put it down there out of harm’s way. Buffy reaches Spike and sticks her hand in his duster, rummaging inside.

“Whoa, luv! Don’t you think we better take care of our friend over there first?” Spike gestures towards the prone vampire next to him, who is quickly recovering from being smacked.

Ignoring his question, Buffy pulls out her intended target - a stake. “Aha! I knew you’d have one of these in there. And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” With a quick wink to a speechless Spike, Buffy lunges over him to stake the not-quite-recovered vamp with a flourish.A! TA! That’ll teach ya to jump MY vampire. Or um, me. Teach you to...jump me.” Buffy’s victorious taunting slows as she takes in her new position. Sprawled across Spike, butt in the air. She considers a quick scrambling retreat until she feels something quite hard under her stomach. Now that’s not a stake in his pocket. Spike sees her wide-eyed reaction as she wiggles a little and he has to bite his lip nearly in half to keep from moaning. His hand comes to rest on the back of her knee and Buffy shudders slightly from the coolness meeting her heated skin. Without making eye contact, she lifts herself slightly up by bracing her hands on the ground. Spike’s hand slides up her leg to the back of her thigh as she changes position. Buffy feels her heart racing in her chest. Finally, she turns her head to meet his eyes. Light from a nearby streetlight casts sharp shadows across his face and she can’t make out his expression. But, the hand. The hand on her leg is curving toward her inner thigh and Buffy tenses suddenly. He freezes. “We should...move.”

“Was moving.” His voice is deep and tender at once.

Buffy gulps, willing his hand to keep inching, but knowing she should not will it so. “Off the street. We’re in the street, Spike.”

Looking around, Spike sighs. “Yeah. Guess we are.”

A few moments pass and neither one moves. “Um, Slayer?”

“Yes?”

“I could move more easily if you weren’t on top of me.”

“OH! Oh yes! Of course, I...I’ll get right up.” In Buffy’s efforts to get up, Spike’s hand ends up on her butt for a few seconds, which makes her jump as if electrocuted. “I’m UP!” And in the next few seconds, she is standing, wobbling a bit on her heels, cheeks flushed high and hot.

Spike sits up on his elbows, glancing at her skirt, hiked up to the point of near indecency and muttering to himself. “Yeah, me too.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” Spike gets to his feet, brushing off the duster and trying to hide the telltale bulge in his pants. Nothing like full body contact to get the motor running.

Buffy watches Spike quietly, her body still tingling from feeling him under her. The hardness of him, the firmness of his muscular body below hers. The feel of his hand sliding against her skin further and further upward. The unmistakable erection. And her reaction to all of it. Her chest heaving, temperature rising, skin twitching reaction to it.

Not to mention the fact that he just saved her life.

“Wait a minute. You just saved my life.”

Spike looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Nah, I just knew you didn’t...you aren’t...with the drinking. And I caught his scent. Just a reaction, luv.”

Buffy grins at him. The reluctant hero. She knows this is putting a real smear on his badass image to help the Slayer. Luckily, the only other witness is a pile of dust at their feet. She leans closer to him, hesitates as she comes within an inch of his face, but continues on. Lightly, she brushes her lips across his cheek and leans back. “Thanks for reacting, then.”

Without waiting for his reaction, Buffy leans over to get her lunchbox, nearly flashing the neighborhood, including Spike, when she does. While down there, she picks up the bottle of tequila as well. Handing it to Spike, who is standing very still, she smirks. “Wouldn’t want to forget this, would we?” She puts it in his hand and starts walking down the street, an extra sway in her hips. It might be the booze talking, but she wants to have that reaction again. Feel him beneath her again. Only maybe with less clothes this time. Noticing Spike is not next to her, she turns and continues walking backwards, facing Spike. Lunchbox swinging by her side, she crooks her finger at the blond vamp.

Recovering quickly from staring intently at her tight ass and from the warm sensation on his cheek where she kissed him, Spike moves forward in a blur. He falls into step next to her, neither saying a word.

Buffy’s mind is screaming again, wondering why she is flirting with Spike and why she is thinking of him in positions most inappropriate to the Slayer-vampire dynamic. She hesitates, considering if this e ise is correct. Only it feels so good to touch him and he is making it so easy to look at him in a different light.

Spike takes a quick look at the Slayer and tries to figure out when her face ceased to aggravate him and began to make him want to shag her. Well, truth be told, he may have always wanted to shag her, but now he doesn’t want to kill her afterwards, after all. Might want to keep her around. He grimaces slightly, thinking this is an impossible scenario. One that could not end well. And might just end dusty. Just as he decides it will be better if he keeps his distance from this Slayer, he feels something warm os ars arm. Her hand.

Buffy meets his eyes for just a second as she curls her hand into his elbow and keeps walking. Spike takes his pile of concerns and shoves them in the back of his head, safely away from logic and other reason.

After a few more blocks of quiet walking, they reach the front porch of Buffy’s house. Retrieving a key from somewhere in her tight dress, Buffy steps into the dark house and Spike follows. She reaches around him and closes the door behind, bringing herself quite close to Spike in the process. The silence is palpable as Buffy adjusts to the darkness in the hallway. Spike can see right away and finds himself reaching out slowly with a hand to touch Buffy’s cheek. Right before he makes contact, she moves away quickly toward the kitchen.

Her voice nervous and light, she calls back, “So, are you thirsty, Spike? I’ve got blood in the fridge.” Spike stands still for a moment, shaking his head. e’s e’s scared. Well, she’s got a right to be. This is very bizarre behavior for both of them. Supposed to be at each other’s throats, not planning ways to get naked. He follows her into the kitchen.

Spike arrives to find the refrigerator door open with Buffy rummaging inside it. Her butt shimmies at him in a most intriguing way. His voice causes her to stand up quickly and peer around the door at him. The sight that greets her makes her mouth go slightly dry.

Lounging against the door frame, black leather draping him, mouth twisted in a devilish grin, Spike holds up the bottle of tequila. “The question, luv, is whether you are thirsty. I’m willing to share.”



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Author’s Note: Thanks for the feedback on this fic! Hope ya like this chapter! - Ti :)