Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Spike - Rival pt2

a week later

Spike runs into The Magic Box with a smoking blanket draped over his head and shoulders. A string of colourful swears stream from his lips until he sees me and he stops. He rips the blanket from his head and smooths back his hair. 

"Morning." he says as casually as he can muster.

"Morning." I reply. A smirk threatens to tug at my lips so I squash it down. 

Xander quirks an eyebrow at me from the table - I'm well aware that's probably the most civil greeting we've ever exchanged. I shrug, sitting opposite him. I open a large lore book on werewolves that doesn't have enough pictures. 

"You got any of that sticky, green stuff that's good at stain removal?" Spike asks the room.

"Why can't you just go to a launderette like the rest of us?" Xander points out. The look he gives Spike is venomous. Even after all this time, he can't stand him one bit. 

"A launderette isn't going to get demon goop out of my jeans now is it?" 

Giles, who is manning the counter and pouring over a giant log book, responds without lifting his gaze from the page, "We've sold out up here, but Y/N should be able to get you some from downstairs."

I don't move until Giles nods at me expectantly and I realise I'm supposed to actually do it. 

"Come on, then." I instruct Spike rather impatiently, leading the way to the creaky, wooden stairs that go down to the basement.

I almost trip down the last few steps as Spike's hands are all over me. He guides me over to a wall so that he can be the one to cage me in this time and connects his lips with mine. I don't know what the hell this thing we have going on is, but it's been non-stop and thrilling and unhealthy and kind of totally awesome.

Spike swipes some papers and books off a smallish wooden table and sets me down on it. He lifts me with ease and his hands on my hips activate a swarm of butterflies in my belly. Some of the books smack the floor with a thud but I just pray that nothing is damaged. I don't have time to worry about it because Spike distracts me by doing unholy things to my neck.

"Spike..."

He groans.

Something else goes crashing to the floor as I lean back and bump a bookcase filled with magical bric-a-brack. 

I can hear footsteps trudge upstairs.

We seem to sense it at the same time, springing apart. I wipe the lipstick from Spike's mouth, he adjusts my hair to cover my neck. We've mutually agreed that nobody can know about this (so I don't know why we keep doing it). We stand at opposite ends of the basement for good measure, so when Xander appears at the bottom of the steps, he won't suspect anything.

"What was all that noise?" He asks, eyes wide and concerned. They drift from me to the items strewn across the floor. Spike springs into action, picking up the things and setting them back where he found them.

"Bitch pushed me into the table." he tells Xander, bitterly.

"Hey!" I instinctively protest before I realise it's not too bad of a lie. "I mean, I only nudged him and he goes flying like some melodramatic footballer."

Spike looks over his shoulder and smirks at me.

"Oh..." Xander turns to go back upstairs, "Fine by me. Hit him harder next time, Y/N."

Once he's disappeared upstairs, Spike mutters, "Charmin'," before picking up the last book and placing it neatly on the table. His attention turns to me. "So, pet, where were we?"