Late on a Thursday night in February...
Standing in the dining room doorway, sipping on a stolen beer, Spike watched Buffy and Dawn who sat on the couch in the living room, eyes rooted on the television.
They were so serious. It was just adorable.
"So, what's so spellbinding?"
"Shhh," both girls hissed at him, neither turning their attention from the screen. The sounds of classical music and applause reached him and he frowned.
"Boring."
"Go away," Buffy demanded succinctly.
In direct opposition to her order, Spike stepped into the living room and peered at the television.
"Figure skating?" He made a face and chugged his beer. Shrugging out of his duster, he dumped it on a chair, then winced as the skater started doing that horrible spin with her leg up her back. It was followed by her flinging herself into the air. "How fruity can you..."
"Ooh, she landed the triple triple," Dawn cooed, clapping her hands together.
"She's definitely going to win gold this year," Buffy agreed.
"Come on," Spike wheedled, "Wrestling's on and I don't get cable."
"Spike, you're interrupting a gold medal performance and I *will* stake you if you don't stop babbling," Buffy threatened, sitting on the edge of the couch and leaning forward towards the girl skating on the screen.
Rolling his eyes, Spike plopped down on the couch next to her. Buffy spared one hostile look at him before scooting closer to her sister.
Spike grinned nastily and got comfortable, watching Buffy's slowly flushing profile and not the figure skating.
As applause burst from the television, he glanced at it in time to see the young woman pick up a huge panda bear. "It is *not* a sport when they lob stuffed animals at you."
Buffy turned her indignation on him. "Not a sport? Let's see you try a triple lutz."
"Don't know what that is, luv, but I think I'll pass."
She smirked at him. "Wimp."
He sneered back. "I prefer getting my exercise with a partner."
"You could try pairs skating," Dawn chimed in, bored with the same commercials she'd seen every night of the Olympics. Really, that ugly car driving between the huge bunnies was just stupid.
"Not what I meant, Niblet."
Dawn flashed him a rather evil look. "Like, duh."
Eyes widening, Buffy looked over her shoulder and hissed at her sister, "Dawn!"
"I'm not twelve anymore, Buffy. I do know about these things. You know, S-E-X."
Spike gave her an amused look and Buffy turned her glare back on him.
"Stop corrupting my sister."
"Geez, Buffy. Spike never tells me anything. You're the one who used to boink Riley upstairs."
As Buffy blushed, Spike scowled. "No need to bring him into this, 'Bit."
"I totally agree, sorry," Dawn admitted, before turning back to the television as the scores came up. "Five four? Five four? What a travesty."
"They're going to screw her out of the gold like they did the Canadians," Buffy added, her attention fully on the skating again.
"Oh good, the US judge gave her a 6 for presentation," Dawn sighed in relief.
Spike scoffed. "Oh, that's so impartial. It's just another reason it's not a sport. You've got girls in sequins and silk and gay guys in tights, stuffed animals, and quote artistic merit unquote. Not a sport."
"The guys aren't allowed to wear tights anymore, and they're not all gay," Dawn defended.
"They jump around in skates, waving their arms around like fruitbats, and dance to stupid music."
"Spike, if you can't play nice..." Buffy threatened.
Finishing his beer, Spike leered at her over the bottle. "I play really nice, luv."
"Yay, she won the gold," Dawn cheered.
Buffy turned back from Spike in time to see that another American had come in second. "Barely. Stupid judges."
"Hey, someone called Slutty won third," Spike added.
"Her name is Slutskaya, idiot."
"Slutskaya idiot, is that like idiot savant?"
Buffy hit him in the arm and Spike laughed.
Dawn rolled her eyes at both of them.
"Hockey's on, boring." She flipped the channel to MTV.
"Dawn, it's way past your bedtime."
"Oh, come on," the teenager whined, turning pleading eyes on her sister.
"You promised no fussing if I let you stay up and watch the women's free program."
Sighing heavily, Dawn pushed herself to her feet. "Whatever. I can't wait till I'm eighteen and can stay up all night."
As she stomped to the stairs, Buffy picked up the remote and flipped it back to hockey. At Spike's look of surprise, Buffy shrugged and gave him a quirky smile. "I like hockey. It's violent." Settling back on the couch, she pulled her legs up beneath her.
"My kind of woman," Spike murmured.
Ignoring that comment, Buffy asked, "Why are you here again?"
"...Bored." He shrugged and then did the oh so casual yawn and placement of his arm around her shoulders.
Buffy rolled her eyes, but let his arm remain, even scooting a bit closer to him. "My house is basically Grand Central Station these days."
"So are we two trains passing in the night?"
She gave him a look, then placed her head on his shoulder. "If so, we keep going back and forth and back and forth."
"Turning me on, luv," he teased.
"Doesn't take much," she teased back.
"Wanna snog on the sofa?"
"Can't you speak English?"
"Can't *you*?" Before she could respond with another snippy comment, he turned his head and kissed her.
Sighing, Buffy sank into the kiss with only a vague thought about Dawn. Hopefully she was tucked in her bed, fast asleep.
Because their semi-innocent snogging always turned quickly into not so innocent boinking against any unmoveable surface.
"He shoots, he scores," came from the television, and both Buffy and Spike stopped kissing to grin at each other for a moment, before lunging for each other and rolling off the couch.
"Glad you didn't replace the coffee table," he muttered, as they landed right where it had been. Straddling her hips, he began to pepper kisses over her face and neck.
"Clothes. Off. Now," she demanded, tugging at his shirt.
Ten minutes later, Dawn rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but also grinned at the sounds of pleasure coming from downstairs. Turning onto her side, she grabbed her pillow and dragged it around her ears.
"Sheesh, get a room..."
The End