Reverse Psychology
by Zola
Genre: Romance, Humor
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Buffy The Vampire Slayer and all characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc.
Summary: It's a ficlet, just read it. Takes place sometime after "Wrecked."
Spike thought he was seeing a pattern here. It had started when he had complimented Buffy's hair the morning of the disastrous visit with the social worker. Silly bint went and cut it, as if he cared! She could grow it, cut it, dye it purple, shave it off if she wanted, and she would still be beautiful in his eyes.
But when he complimented the new 'do, saying that short suited her better, she immediately started growing it out again. And then there was the shirt incident ... she had a silky little tank top that he adored. He'd remarked on it, and hadn't seen it since. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd thrown it away out of sheer spite—anything to avoid wearing something that he actually liked.
Of course, Spike hadn't managed to be a partner to Drusilla for over a hundred years by being an unobservant idiot, no matter how much the Buffy and the Scoobies taunted him for his weakness. "I've got your number now, Slayer," he muttered to himself.
***
It was amazing, Spike concluded, the changes that could happen in a mere six months. He tightened his arms around his sleeping love and peacefully listened to the swooshing of the blood in her veins as her heart beat slowly and rhythmically. He stroked the soft fall of curls hiding the face buried against his shoulder ("I like your hair long or short, pet, just promise me you'll never get another perm!"). She was so beautiful with curly hair.
He had been careful to be subtle, making a point only to compliment her on occasion, and only on things he didn't care about or hated. If he liked an outfit, he kept his lips sealed or once in a blue moon, said something about detesting it. His patience was paying off—she wore black and crimson much more frequently now, colors that he had always loved on her.
He was getting a cramp in his arm, so he shifted her weight slightly. That was another side benefit of his campaign—she had managed to gain ten desperately needed pounds. It was amazing how easy it had been; just stock up on some food and then tell her how much he liked her body when it was this slender. That, and the occasional sly comment about how much he hated it when she gained weight ... he chuckled to himself. Even the Scoobies had remarked on how much healthier she looked.
"Sweet baby," she murmured against his shoulder. "You make me feel so warm and safe."
"That's enough with the drippy romantic spew," he growled. "I'm the Big Bad, don't you forget it."
She laughed a little and lovingly stroked his face. "My darling ... my sweetheart ... my knight in shining armor ..." her words trailed off as she drifted back to sleep.
Spike just smiled at the ceiling.
The End