Written for Kantayra's birthday, and fondly dedicated to her.
Happy Birthday
The restaurant was lovely, overlooking the river, the food tasty if a
bit overpriced – but who cared about that when W&H paid off their
credit card each month without questions? – and the company delicious.
They had had a few wonderful months since reuniting, but Spike didn’t
think he had ever seen Buffy so radiant. She almost seemed to glow,
although that might have been a trick of the light due to the candles
surrounding them.
“So, what do you think?” she punctuated her excited account of her phone call to Cleveland.
He gave himself a second to ponder his answer by raising the glass of
champagne to his lips. They had taken an extended vacation and just had
enjoyed each other’s company for more than half a year, and even if
there were still many places he wished they would visit together some
day, he was getting as restless as she seemed to be. They could both
pretend that all they wanted was a quiet life together, a white picket
fence and everything that went with it; but deep down they were
fighters, both of them. Now that they had rested, they were ready to
get back into the battle. The question remained as to know how exactly
they would fight.
“I could let myself be convinced,” he replied with a small smile. “If you give me really good… arguments.”
The slightest arch to his eyebrow, and she was blushing furiously.
“You are terrible,” she informed him primly, and he buried a laugh behind a cough.
“And that’s a surprise to you how exactly?” he teased, sliding his hand to cover hers on the table.
The apparition of the waiter, carrying a large piece of chocolate cake
and two spoons, prevented her from replying. Spike was about to taste
the treat when she said softly:
“No, wait. I’d like you to open this first.”
He put the spoon down and, frowning in slight confusion, accepted the
square box she had produced from her purse. Was it their anniversary or
something? Could he possibly have forgotten an important day of theirs?
They ought to decide on an anniversary date, eventually, and give
themselves one more thing to celebrate.
“It’s not going to open itself,” she said with a nervous smile, and he
realized he had been staring at the small object in his hand. Why was
she nervous? Should he have been nervous too?
With his thumb, he flipped the lid of the box up, and apprehension
definitely became part of the equation. A hesitant finger touched the
ring it its satin nest, and it rolled slightly, revealing words on the
inside that Spike couldn’t make out. His eyes sought hers, looking for
confirmation, and he wasn’t sure whether to be scared or happy at the
delighted glint in her gaze.
“Slayer?”
The old nickname rolled off his tongue before he could catch it. The rest followed in a whisper.
“Would you be proposing..?”
The delighted glint turned into puzzlement. “Proposing what?”
All at once, relief and deception flooded him, along with a bit of amusement when he saw realization dawn on her.
“Oh! Proposing! No, not… unless… I mean… Would you want me to..?”
He couldn’t help but smile at her blushing babble. “I imagine one of us
will, eventually,” he said as he reached once more for her hand.
“Although I always thought it’d be me. Must be a bit of the old school
left in me.”
She tilted her head to the side, and moved to weave their fingers together, a gesture that had become usual to them.
“So, you’ve thought of it,” she stated quietly, a grin blooming on her lips.
“Might have,” he admitted, before deciding to shift the topic. “So what
is this, if you’re not trying to make an honest man out of me?”
Letting go of her hand, he pulled the silver band from the box, and,
holding it between two fingers, shifted it to read the inscription that
curled around the inside.
Yes I do, and don’t you dare forget it.
Chuckling softly, he slid the otherwise unadorned ring on his right hand.
“Thanks, luv. Nice reminder.”
She beamed at him. “Happy birthday!”
It took a few seconds for her words to make sense. And even then, it wasn’t much sense at all.
“Birthday?” he repeated, baffled.
She nodded, still smiling brightly. “I see how it was rather pointless
to celebrate it before, but I thought that since you’re… I mean… if you
want to celebrate it, of course. And if you don’t, that’s fine, we’ll
just say it’s a gift with no other reason than me loving you.”
There was uncertainty in her voice and features, and he quickly tried to reassure.
“It’s a nice idea, luv. Thank you for thinking of it.”
The lovely smile was back, and they started eating the cake – his birthday cake, he supposed.
“So, what number are we starting on?” he asked after a few spoonfuls.
“How old where you the last time you celebrated your birthday?”
The answer should have been simple, but it required a little math.
“Twenty-five,” he finally announced.
“Then you’re twenty-six now.”
Shaking his head lightly, he suppressed a chuckle. She was just adorable.
“So, how did you figure out the date for my birthday?” he couldn’t help
but ask as they were leaving the restaurant and waiting for their cab a
few minutes later.
“Oh. I…” she hesitated, threw him an uneasy smile. “I kinda asked Angel when it was. Is that OK?”
Trying not to frown, he assured her that it was fine, and proceeded to give directions to the cab driver.
As they arrived to the hotel suite they had been calling home for the
past two weeks, Buffy excused herself to the bathroom. Quickly stepping
out of her clothes, she slipped on the translucent negligee and
matching underwear that were the other part of Spike’s gift before
hiding them under her robe. After all, it wasn’t a proper present if
there was no unwrapping.
Led by habit, she took her pill with a sip of water, the innocuous
gesture suddenly taking on a completely new meaning. Watching her
reflection smile in the mirror, she replayed what he had said in her
mind. He had thought about proposing. He was planning to. It was only a
matter of time. And she was fine with that, really. There was no rush,
absolutely none at all. Still, the idea that, eventually, some day, she
would have these things she had always thought she’d never have… She
was sure Spike would make a wonderful father. She could already picture…
The smile faded, replaced by a frown. He hadn’t said anything about
kids. Neither had she, of course, but she had always assumed… And now
she realized she didn’t even know if he wanted children.
Walking out of the bathroom, she followed the trail of clothes to the
bedroom. He was lying on the bed, hands clasped behind in head, and the
sheet covering him up to the waist made it rather clear that he
expected to be entertained. And she would be happy to oblige. But first…
“Can I ask you something?” she whispered as she stepped closer.
“Anything.”
“You ever thought about having kids? With me, I mean.”
Slowly, so slowly it seemed like slow motion, he blinked, and his eyes dropped from her face to her belly, and then back up.
“You said you had another gift for me,” he started and hesitated. His
voice was the same as earlier, when he had thought she was proposing,
fear and excitement rolled into one.
“No, I’m not,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry if I gave you that
impression, I just… I was just thinking, and I realized I don’t even
know if you’d like to have children. Some day. Some day that isn’t now.”
Like earlier again, he seemed both relieved and disappointed.
“Never really thought about it,” he replied, and reached for the belt
of her robe. “But I suppose if we decide to have some, we’ll have to
get some practice…”
She liked the way he answered her, stating that the decision was theirs
to make. She liked even more the widening of his eyes when the front of
her robe parted as he tugged away the belt, revealing what was hiding
underneath.
“Would that be my other gift?” he asked huskily, reaching up to slide the robe off her shoulders. All Buffy could do was nod.
He took her hand and lightly pulled, inviting her to climb on the bed,
which she promptly did. He led her until she was kneeling above him.
His erection was trapped under the sheet, but she made a point of
rubbing against it, smiling when Spike gasped in pleasure. It was soon
her turn to gasp however when a single fingertip followed the curve of
her breast and came to tease her hardening nipple. Somehow, it was even
more arousing to have that flimsy bit of fabric between his hand and
her skin, and she arched her back to push into his touch. The proud
smirk that followed her unconscious gesture was one she knew well, but
it was softened by countless nights of pledging their love to each
other. Two years before, she would have closed her eyes rather than
looked at that smile; now, she reveled in it.
She shifted against him, teasing both of them but enjoying his heat
against her core despite the two layers of fabric. In response, he
leaned up, mouthing the breast he had ignored so far through her
negligee until the wet fabric was completely transparent and adhering
to her skin. With one hand, she held his face to her; with the other,
she guided his fingers to her panties. He quickly discovered how to
untie the strings on each side, and within seconds both the scrap of
underwear and the sheet were out of the way, and heated flesh met its
match.
Spike leaned back down, and Buffy’s breath caught in her throat at the
look of pure adoration etched on his features. She saw it every day,
and every day it was new, every day it astounded her, every day it was
the same revelation all over again. And it was the same thing, only
even more intense, every time he slipped into her and they became one.
For a short instant, they remained immobile, relishing in the first
seconds of their union. Then, together, they began moving, knowing each
other so well that the rhythm was easy to find, hands dancing over
flesh as she rose above him and thrust down again, driving him in her.
She loved the words that passed his lips, encouraging her on her way to
pleasure and telling her, again and again, how beautiful she was, how
much he loved her. She loved the clever fingers that knew all the spots
that made her writhe and moan, and that were now stroking her engorged
clit in just the right way. She loved the strength of him, the play of
muscles under her hands, between her legs. She loved his mouth and the
sinful skill with which he kissed her.
She simply loved him, and cried it out for the world to know as she came and pulled him into bliss with her.
The sun was barely peeking on the horizon as Spike stood in front of
the window, having pulled the drapes open. In the next room, his lover
was sleeping, and soon he would join her again. He needed to make a
short call first, clear up a question. As he dialed the number, he
tried to determine what time it was in Los Angeles, but apparently, it
wasn’t late enough to sleep, because the call was picked up almost
immediately.
“Hello?”
“Peaches. Would you be kind enough to explain to me why you told Buffy that it was my birthday?”
There was a short silence on the line, followed by the sound of a door closing.
“Because it is?” the vampire finally offered.
“Since when?” Spike shot back, his tone clearly conveying his
amusement. “I may be getting older, but I’m not senile quite yet.
Wasn’t born in April…”
“William wasn’t born in April,” Angel corrected, and he too was amused. “Middle of July, I’m not senile either.”
Still watching the sunrise but not really seeing it, Spike frowned. The
fact that the poof remembered a date he had heard only once many
decades ago was in itself surprising – more pleasantly so than he would
have admitted – but why would Angel give Buffy an incorrect date on
purpose?
“She didn’t ask for William’s birthday,” Angel pointed out. “She asked for yours. Spike’s.”
That still didn’t make sense. “And how do you figure this was Spike’s… I mean my birthday?”
“It’s the day you were turned.”
Instinctively, Spike wanted to deny that, tell Angel he was wrong. He
couldn’t have forgotten such a date, could he? But the words refused to
escape his throat, and as dates clicked into his mind he realized that
it was true.
“You can still tell her I got it wrong if you don’t want to celebrate
that,” Angel stated with a sigh, as Spike still wasn’t answering. “But
I thought… It’s what you were, and it’s still part of who you are now,
vamp or not.”
Without knowing it – or perhaps he did know? – Angel had touched the
sorest point of Spike’s return to life. He had a heartbeat, yes, but he
didn’t want, he couldn’t erase his past and pretend he had never been
anything else than human. Thankfully for him and his sanity, Buffy
seemed to understand that. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one.
“Thank you.”
Laying the phone down, Spike pulled the drapes closed again and
returned to bed. Buffy made a tiny mewling sound when he spooned his
body behind hers, and he answered it with the caress of his lips to the
back of her neck. She took his hand that had come to rest on her belly
and brought it to her face, kissing the ring on his middle finger.
“Happy birthday,” she murmured sleepily, and Spike smiled.
Home ~ Cleveland-verse
The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
