Reality Check

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Happyverse Series: Part 2/15

AUTHOR: JodyorJen
EMAIL: jodyorjen@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. GO team!
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Part 2: Reality Check

It was a beautiful sunny morning at the breakfast table of the Summers home. "So, Dawnie, what do you have planned today?" asks Willow, in a bright and chipper voice. A blue glare over the top of a teen magazine is the only response. "Do you want to go see Lord of the Rings? I've heard that it's really cool." A handful of Cheerios flies in her direction.

"I don’t talk to selfish junkies, " says Dawn coldly. Willow blushes a deep scarlet red.

"That's downright rude, bit. Mind your manners," says Spike, as he enters the dining room. He sports a severe case of bed head, wearing a baby blue robe adorned with little yellow ducks. It barely covers him, cutting just above the elbows and hitting him mid thigh. "I have a proposition for you both," he says seriously.

"Why are you wearing that?" asks Willow, trying to keep a straight face.

"Buffy ripped my-. Um. Couldn’t find my pants. Didn’t want to give one of you little girls a peek at my package," he says with a smile.

Dawn breaks in, "Well, I for one…"

"Please don’t say whatever you’re thinking of saying, " says Willow. Dawn rolls her eyes.

"I haven’t had a chance to buy myself a dressing gown," explains Spike. "I didn’t have to worry about covering up in the crypt. No women wandering around there." He shoves his hand in the robe’s pocket and pulls out two crumpled bills. "If the two of you will clear off, I will give you each a twenty. I want to make Buffy breakfast, surprise her with it."

"So you want to get rid of us so you can jump her bones?" asks Dawn, wide eyed and smirking.

Spike stares at her. "Um, well…" he trails off.

Dawn snatches the money out of his palm. She exits the kitchen door as she snags her coat off the chair. "Tell Buffy I’m going to Tara’s house," she calls over her shoulder.

Willow looks crestfallen. "She won’t even talk to me. It’s been almost two weeks and she still can’t look me in the eye."

"It’ll all blow over," reassures Spike. He sits in Dawn’s chair and finishes off her Cheerios. "So do you need me to help you move your stuff back home to your mum’s?" he asks.

Willow shakes her head. "My dad is coming by with the minivan tomorrow."

Spike looks pensive. "You know, Red, I didn’t ask Buffy to have you move out…"

"I know," says Willow. "It’s Dawn. There’s just too much friction between us right now. Plus, you and Buffy should have Joyce’s room. It’s too big for one person." Willow grabs her laptop case. "Thanks for the twenty," she grins, slamming the door shut behind her. He hadn’t seen her take it. Magic trick or magic spell?

"Mission accomplished," says Spike, pleased his plan is working out. He rummages around in the kitchen. "Tray, check," he says to himself as he places a large cookie sheet on the counter. He fills a cereal bowl with Cheerios and milk. He tosses a spoon and a paper towel on the sheet. "Meal, check." Grabbing a bunch of dried herbs and blossoms off the windowsill, he shoves them haphazardly in a mug. "Flowers, check." Spike carries his burden upstairs as he hums merrily.

Buffy is lying in bed, covers pulled up to her neck. She looks a little sad. "Why the long face, sweetheart?" Spike asks, concerned.

"Your first morning in the house," she explains, "and when I wake up you’re not here." She notices the tray that he is holding. "You made me breakfast?" she says, delighted.

Placing the meal down in front of her, he makes a sweeping gesture. "Bon appetit!" he says in a bad French accent. Flopping down on the bed next to her, he props himself up on one elbow.

She eats her Cheerios while Spike watches her intently. "Why are you staring at me?" she asks, her mouth full.

"I’m laying in your bed- our bed- watching you eat breakfast," he says softly, gazing at her.

Buffy looked over at him. "That a big fantasy of yours or something?"

He gives her a bare, honest look. "Yes."

She finishes off the cereal and places the tray on the floor. "Thanks, Spike," says Buffy," that was perfect." She rolls into Spike’s body, wrapping his arms around her. She leans forward and kisses his neck. They stare in each other’s eyes. Breaking into a grin, Buffy leans forward and gives him an Eskimo kiss. He laughs and nips the end of her nose. Pulling her close, he rests his head on her shoulder. She pulls him tighter to her, wrapping her arms around his back. They lie together, basking in bliss.

"I always suspected you were the snuggling type," teases Buffy.

Spike plays idly with a lock of her hair. "Well, just keep that to yourself. Wouldn’t want word to get around that I’m just a big teddy bear." Buffy nuzzles his neck and he smiles. ‘Of course, I could spread the word too. Just look at the big, bad slayer now." She kisses him, stroking her fingers through his hair. ‘We should go say good morning to the guys," she says regretfully.

He pulls her towards him. "They’re gone for the day," he says in a low sexy voice, giving her a carnal glance.

She smiles, slipping her tongue inside his mouth for a deep, slow kiss. Pulling back, she slips her hands into his robe. "You know," she says softly, "there is something really perverted about making out with you while you’re wearing this. We shouldn’t get busy in front of the innocent little duckies." She unties the robe, pulling it off his shoulders. He sits up and shrugs it off, tossing it to the floor.

Spike looks down at Buffy. She is wearing a pink nightshirt, which is decorated with a watercolor drawing of a fluffy white cat. "We’ve really got to do something about your nightclothes, love. Don’t you have anything with lace, or satin? Something not in a pastel?" he asks.

She looks up at him sultrily. "Well," she says, licking her lips. "I guess I’ll have to work on that. In the meantime, you’ll just have to make a sacrifice and look at me naked." She tosses the shirt over her head. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She arches her back, thrusting her breasts into the air.

Spike pounces on her, licking her in a long sweep from her neck down to the curl of her hip. Buffy gasps, moving underneath him. He looks down at her, his eyes devouring her naked body. Gently, he turns her on her stomach. "Your skin is so fine, like rich Devon cream," he says, pulling her hair aside to nibble gently on the back of her neck. His hands trail down her back, caressing her soft skin. He rubs her back with firm, knowing strokes, releasing all of the tension from her muscles. "You taste so good," he murmurs, licking his way down her spine. He reaches the globes of her ass, licking and biting them. "Like a fresh Anjou pear," he says," just the right texture."

Gently turning her over, he looks down at her face. Buffy’s eyes are closed, and she looks totally relaxed. He cups her breast in one hand. "Your breast is like the sweetest, ripest apple," he says softly, kissing the smooth white skin. His tongue darts out, sweeping across her nipple. "Sweeter than cherries." He moves his mouth to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. He slides down her body. His tongue sweeps into her belly button. She squirms, breathing heavily. He takes tiny bites on her hipbone, gently nipping and sucking. Gently spreading her legs, he closes his mouth on her swollen red clit. She moans, her fingers moving down to grab his ear. He laps at her with his tongue as he uses more and more suction. She crests, moaning loudly as she comes. He moves up her body, watching her face. When she is calm, he kisses her gently on the jaw. "Glorious," he says," bursting on my tongue like a ripe juicy melon."

She pulls her mouth to his as she takes his cock in his hand, guiding her inside her. Wrapping her arms around his back, she pulls close as she moves beneath him. She sucks on his nipple, making him moan and move faster within her. They move in tandem, their bodies perfectly in sync with one another. "Oh, please, now," she cries, her nails cutting into his back. She bites down hard on his nipple as she tumbles over. He throws his head back, babbling nonsense as he thrusts powerfully within her, gaining his release. They cling to each other, riding out the intensity of their passion.

Spike withdraws, rolling onto his side. Fluffing up his pillow, he lies back, watching Buffy. "You are so incredibly wonderful," he says. She smiles at him. ‘Ditto."

‘So, the day is ours, pet. There’s no one in the house. We have nowhere to be. What would you like to do? We’ll do whatever you want,’ he says.

‘I can do whatever I want?" she says, a devilish glint in her eye.

"Anything," he says huskily, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Shopping!" Buffy crows.

"Not what I had in mind," he says, looking crestfallen.

"Look, Spike," she says. "You have that job interview on Monday, you need to look like a real person. No one will hire you if you look like you usually do."

He looks hurt. ‘What’s wrong with what I usually wear?"

"We all know you’re a big, bad vampire guy. You don’t need to prove anything with the window dressing. It’s really kind of overkill,’ explains Buffy earnestly.

"I like the way I dress." He grumbles. "It’s cool."

"No one is going to hire a cool guy to teach English. They are expecting a really English English guy. You need to be tweedy, like Giles."

"I’m not going to dress like Giles!" He stands up, pacing.

"Fine, but you can wear some nice slacks, a turtleneck, a jacket. Branch out. Shake hands with the brave new world of color." She sits, up crossing her arms across her chest. "Look, Spike. You made the effort to get hold of counterfeited papers so that you can work. If you’re serious about helping out financially, this is the best thing going. A night job, a professional job that you actually have the credentials for. It would bring in more money than the kind of job I can get with no skills and a high school diploma."

Seeing the truth of what she is saying, he looks over at her. "Okay, I’ll do it." She smiles at him brightly. He holds up a hand in warning. ‘But I’m telling you now, you better not get carried away with the makeover. I have my limits."

"I promise," she says. "Why don’t you go take a shower and we’ll get ready to go." He wanders out of the room. Buffy pulls her crossed fingers out from behind her back. "We’ll see about limits," she says.

Later, Spike and Buffy walk hand and hand through the underground parking garage. "I really don’t

understand how you can see through the windshield when it’s painted over," she says. "It must be a major

safety hazard."

He opens the glass door to the mall entrance for her. "I’ve been driving for decades, pet, no need to worry

about it."

They walk down the corridor. "We have enough money for one suit and two nice outfits," Buffy announces. "One pair of dress shoes and one pair of casual shoes. Plus you need to buy some underwear."

"I don’t wear underwear, sweets, as you well know." He looks at her lasciviously.

"Well, going commando will ruin the line of your pants," she explains. " Plus, it wouldn’t be very professional to have Mr. Happy pop out of your fly during the interview."

He stops, annoyed. ‘I don’t need you to mother me, Buffy."

"Fine. Just think of me as girlfriending you then." She gins up at him. He looks down at her lovingly, and

kisses her. He grabs her ass, rubbing against her.

"Okay, Mr. Short Attention Span. Time to shop," she says pulling him along.

"No fucking way," Spike says heatedly. "No bloody, buggering fucking way, Slayer." They stand in a

dressing room before a three-way mirror. He is outfitted in a charcoal gray tweed suit, complete with leather patches on the elbows.

‘You look really handsome in it," she says seriously. "It brings out your eyes, makes your shoulders look broad and shows what long legs you have. It’s perfect."

"I look stupid, Buffy. I haven’t looked this ridiculous since I was Randy." He pulls at the white Oxford collar of his shirt, making a face.

"You have to get this suit, Spike. It is absolutely professional. They will hire you for looks alone," she says coaxingly.

Fed up, he spins around. He leans over, close into her face. "Not going to happen. There is no way that I will wear this.’

She wraps her hands around his waist. "There is nothing I can do to convince you?" Her hands glide underneath his jacket, scratching him with her nails.

Spike is unmoved. "Buffy, you could get down on your knees and blow me right here in the store, and I still wouldn’t wear this suit." She smiles up at him. Quickly, she slams him against the dressing room door. Sinking to her knees, she unfastens his pants, sucking him into her mouth. She rolls her tongue around him, knowing just the way he likes it. He moans, his head tilting back.

Shortly afterward, they leave the store. Spike carries a suit bag and several shopping bags.

"Just because I gave in on this, doesn’t mean we’re setting a precedent here," he says as they walk. "This relationship is an equal partnership. No one has the upper hand."

"I’m really thirsty, Spike. Can you get me a drink?" Buffy stops and sits down on a bench near a concession stand.

"Sure thing, pet. Diet Coke coming right up," he says. Placing the bags on the bench besides her, he starts to walk away. "Want a pretzel too? You must be hungry.’ He tilts his head at her, waiting for her answer.

‘No salt, with mustard, " she says. He smiles at her and walks away.

"He is so whipped," she says, her eyes following him.

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JodyorJen - jodyorjen@yahoo.com