Her roommate was alright, when he used his brains, that is. They had been living together for about a year, so a sort of friendship and understanding had formed between them. But Spike always knew how to work Buffy's last nerve until she would snap and spend the night in her room, listening to audio books turned up really loud so she wouldn't have to deal with him at all. Sometimes it was little things, and sometimes it was big things, but Buffy would always get over it and they would go on the next day like nothing had happened. Sometimes she just wanted to kick him out, but she liked having him around too much. The rent was high for only one person to pay anyway, so having Spike there to help with the rent was good too.
The latest thing that Spike did to annoy—or rather, make Buffy uncomfortable—was about two weeks ago. Spike had asked if Buffy would like to... explore one another's bodies. Buffy didn't like to think about it too much. It was too... tempting, to say the least. Buffy had never wanted to throw him down and have her wicked way with him more than she did at that moment.
However, Buffy had to admit that even before Spike had asked the loaded question, she had wanted him. Whenever she thought he wasn't looking, Buffy's eyes would travel up and down his body, taking in his muscular form - broad shoulders, strong arms, his well-developed chest (which she had seen without a shirt covering it), and very, very nice abs.
Then there was his face -- sharp and angular, cheekbones that could cut glass, eyes bluer than the night sky, lips soft and begging to be kissed. But she knew the type of guy he was. All he wanted was sex, and if she gave him that, she would be left with an awkward tension between them, and a major case of 'unrequited love'. After Buffy had practically shouted at him, saying that she would do not sleep with him if he were the last man on Earth, then she had stormed away and locked herself in her room.
Still, she couldn't help but think of how sexy and beautiful he was. Buffy had to shake her head to dislodge the lingering thoughts of her roommate, and to focus on how horrible of a day she'd had.
After the wet encounter with Spike in the morning, Buffy was shaken at seeing him so at ease and damp and... well, let's just say, Buffy tried to catch another glimpse, leaning over to look around the wall that divided the kitchen and living room. While she was sneaking a peek at him, she spilled some burning hot coffee on her hand, missing the mug entirely. Buffy muttered a curse word and shook her hand, trying to get the scalding liquid off of her skin as Spike sauntered into the kitchen.
“Oh, ouch, pet. You should run some cold water on that,” he said, his voice rich and velvety, his body still clad in only the towel.
Instead of doing what Spike said, Buffy quickly turned away from him to avoid the temptation and she hurried out of the kitchen, stubbing her big toe in the process, then hobbling out the apartment door.
She could hear Spike snickering at her, no doubt laughing at how ungraceful she looked. 'Why would he want to sleep with me anyway? He could probably have anyone he wanted, but he chooses me?' Buffy thought to herself as she continuously jabbed the elevator button with her pointer finger.
After the morning of sexy roommates, hot coffee and stubbed toes, Buffy arrived at work. Late. 20 minutes late, to be exact. Her boss, Angel, was not happy.
“Buffy!” he barked, making Buffy jump in her seat. “You're late. Again. Tell me why I shouldn't fire you?”
Buffy always had to deal with threats on her job from Angel ever since she'd turned him down for a date. It annoyed her that she had to have such a jerk for a boss, but she was happy that she could affect him like she had. “Because I'm a valued employee and it would be hard to replace me?” she supplied, hoping beyond hope that she hadn't played her last card with him.
She had been continuously late for the last week, handing in papers late, skipping meetings, just doing pretty much everything wrong. She knew she could easily lose her job if she forgot one more thing.
“Well, you're half right,” he sneered, tilting his head down and making his forehead look impossibly bigger. “I expect that you have the Rhysmen papers ready for me?”
Buffy furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “Rhysmen? I didn't know that I had...”
“Let me guess,” Angel cut her off, sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You don't have them. This is going to cost us, Buffy. You used to be so fast, so organized. What the hell happened?”
'Spike Pratt and his sexually arousing and frustrating questions, not to mention how just being around makes me feel...' Buffy thought, but shrugged her shoulders instead. She was still thinking about him? That man drove her crazier and crazier each day.
With anger threatening to bubble over, Buffy jumped out her seat and poked Angel in the chest. “Maybe because I have an overbearing boss who thinks I should already know everything,” she poked him again. “A boss who still holds a vendetta over me because I wouldn't date him,” another poke. “Maybe because a paper eating gnome ate my memo,” yet another poke. After she felt like he had been thoroughly poked, she tilted her head to the side, then smirked. “There’s lots of possibilities.”
And that’s how she wound up here. In her car, with a box of her personal belongings that were in her office. She had been fired.
Buffy sighed and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to process everything that had happened that morning.
It was Spike. It was all. Spike's. Fault. It had to be. Buffy was usually so on top of things, so organized. Then Spike walks into her life, with his blue eyes, cocky attitude and sexy body, and Buffy's world just turned upside down. He had to be stopped.
With her mind made up, Buffy threw open her car door, got out and then slammed it shut, leaving her box of possessions behind as she stalked toward her apartment building with one thing in mind. She was going to take care of this 'Spike' issue, once and for all.