I've been secluded to the living-room with a glass of wine and some crackers - better than bread and water, huh? But it's still torture, even though it's sweet: the odour of French cooking is pervading the whole first floor. Who'd have guessed? Spike can cook. Considering the said odour, he's even good at it.
Yeah, Spike's cooking for me. What were the odds, when we first met? What were they even up until last week?
"Spike!" I whine. "Can't you step out of that kitchen for a few seconds?" Not much hope. He's been locked up in there for hours.
Surprisingly, he does step out, wearing a white apron over his usual black clothes, and I burst out into laughter. He frowns, then looks down at himself and smiles as he understands the reason of my amusement. "Hey, can't afford to dirty the only set of clothes I have here."
By the way, I finally found out about the clothes: he's got several sets of the exact same ones. It's reassuring. I don't know if vampires sweat like humans and everything, but I'd still rather have a boyfriend who changes clothes more than twice in his unnaturally long lifetime. "Maybe you should bring some here. I could get you a drawer or two." Yep, just asked gorgeous undead evil creature to move into my parents' house. How nuts am I?
He cocks his head to the side, considering this option. "What about your parents, pet?"
"They're not here half the time. As for the other half - which would actually be way less than a half - they'll just have to deal with my boyfriend being around."
"The blood in the fridge?"
"It's been there for a while, they never noticed it - go figure." I shrug - the incredible blindness of the Rosenbergs, I've long accepted. "Just don't drink any in front of them. They *might* notice." He leans onto the doorframe, still in the magnificent glory of the apron - did I mention the baby blue ribbon to tie it in the back? That sight's just so funny. "And you can eat, too, so problem solved.'' I frown. ''Right? You're not just cooking all this for me?"
"Nope. Can't enjoy many dishes, what with the deficient taste buds, but these are among the best I can cook. You'll see."
"Can't wait." I get up and walk to him. He steps forward, a smirk plastered on his lips, allowing the door behind him to close. Protecting the surprise. My lips are inches away from his. "You tasted them yet?"
"No."
"Too bad. Then it'll just be for the sake of kissing you."
Wow. And isn't that an enjoyable kiss? Just sweet and tender and inviting, and now it's changed into something more brutal and passionate and wild, and I guess dinner can wait.
Or not. Spike's hands are taking mine away from the back of his head, and his lips have left mine. Then only do I hear something beeping in the kitchen.
"Duty calls." He smiles and gives me one light kiss. "It won't be long before dinner's ready."
He goes back into the kitchen and I sigh. Let's just suppress all those naughty thoughts crossing my mind. For now, at least. I steal a glance at the dining room in my back, and notice for the first time that the table's set for two. When did he do that? He's a wonder, really.
Anyway, I've gotta find something to do in the meantime, so I take up the TV magazine and leaf through it for the fourth time. Or maybe the fifth. My stomach growls - it can't wait, and neither can I. I stand up and am about to rush into the kitchen despite Spike's earlier tickle-filled threats, when a voice behind me makes me start.
"Mademoiselle, si vous le voulez bien."
I turn around and discover an apronless Spike smiling at me, gesturing for me to come and sit at the table. I take my glass and walk up to him with as much fake haughtiness as I can gather, but he takes the glass away and smiles.
"This was just for aperitif."
I sit down as he pushes the chair under me, the perfect model of gallantry. Wonder if French guys really are like that? Guess not - very few people are like what you hear about them. Spike sits in front of me, clearly proud of this little act.
"Sorry there is no entrée. I never liked waiting for the main course."
''What? I mean, isn't the entrée the main course?''
He frowns, then answers with a smile: ''Not in France, no. The entrée is the course before the main course.''
He takes his time as he speaks, unlike his usual rush of words thick with accent. Even though his clothes remain the same, his accent's lost some of its rudeness and brutality. It seems, well, nicer I guess. I'm no expert in English accents. Now he lifts up the lid of one of the dishes: pasta. Not what I expected. Isn't pasta Italian?
My disappointment must show on my face, 'cause Spike just chuckled. He lifts another lid and there are little cubes of meat in a sauce which slightly smells of red wine. That's more like what I was expecting.
"This is boeuf bourguignon."
"Boeuf burgy-what?" Ok, I've taken some French classes, but I never was that gifted.
"Bourguignon." He chuckles again. "Wait until you taste it, then you won't care about its name."
He serves me some pasta, on which he puts some of that beef I don't know what. I can't wait to start eating, but what's left of my good manners makes me wait until he's helped himself as well. As soon as it's done, I drive my fork in a piece of meat and am about to bring it to my mouth when he speaks up.
"Don't." I look up at him, worried. Have I done something wrong? "Wait for the wine, luv."
I smile as he produces a bottle of red wine. He pours some into my glass and I taste it - I know, usually men do that, but I'm the only one with efficient taste buds here. Glad he acknowledges that. The wine's good. It's even...
"Excellent! What's it?"
"Saint-Emilion, courtesy of your parents' cellar."
I look at him suspiciously. I don't know much about wines, but I do know how expensive and precious Saint-Emilion is. I just can't figure out if Spike's joking or not. He's poker-faced right now. "You're kidding me, right?"
He smiles some more, but stays silent as he pours more wine into both our glasses. He lifts up his glass and smells the wine. "Excellent indeed." I guess vampires make up for the lack of taste with the smell. And I know what he's doing. Distracting me from the essential question here.
"Spike!"
"Yeah, just pulling your leg, luv. Don't want the parents to hate the man you're living with, do we?"
"Does that mean you're moving in?"
"Let's drink to us. Together. In the flat I'm gonna buy. I did save some money over the last century."
"An apartment? For us?" I squeal with delight. I can almost feel my eyes sparkle with joy. "Sure, let's drink to that!"
Our glasses hit each other as our eyes lock. We drink. He's just so beautiful. I can't believe I'm so lucky to have him. Mine. His.
Then we eat, and we talk, and even though he talks a few times of experiences he had in other countries, in other times, I keep forgetting he's a demon. He's just so human, and alive, in all the ways that matter! But now the boeuf whatever it is is over.
"Please tell me you're not gonna make me eat any of their smelly cheeses."
He laughs. "Don't worry. You don't know what you're missing though - the worse they smell, the better they taste - in general." I make a disgusted face, and he smirks. "No, now's time for dessert." His eyes are glowing, and I'm not sure what kind of dessert he has in mind. "Or for the first dessert anyway."
He stands up and walks into the kitchen, coming back almost immediately with a plate full of crêpes. Yummy! He clears our plates away and sets down clean ones, then brings back some granulated sugar, strawberry jam, nutella and apple sauce.
"No peanut butter?" I ask hopefully.
"Don't insult my crêpes, young lady. Nutella's already bad enough." We both smile and prepare our crêpes. "I know it's not the kind of dessert you'd eat after a boeuf bourguignon, but I couldn't help myself."
"Good choice. I don't care after what you're supposed to eat those. Anytime, Spike, anytime." 'Cause yeah, they're incredibly good.
"Damn me," he suddenly says, in the middle of his second crêpe. "I forgot the poiré."
He rushes into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle which he serves into our empty water glasses. I taste it - it's quite close to cider, and I love it. I take the bottle and read the tag.
"Poiré? What's it?"
"Pretty much like cider, only with pears instead of apples. D'you like it?"
"A lot! Just like the whole meal." His eyes glow. He's so sweet - I don't care about the whole 'bloody demon' thing. "Thank you, Spike. For everything."
"You're welcome, pet. I enjoyed it as much as you did."
We're soon done with the crêpes. There are some left - for tomorrow morning, I guess. I don't think I could swallow anything more. Usually alcohol gets me drunk in no time, but I've eaten so much I only feel a bit tipsy, despite the numerous glasses of bordeaux and poiré.
"Guess it's time for second dessert, luv. Come on."
He stands up, walks round the table to where I sit and extends a hand out to me. I seize it and get up, then take his arm as if we were in a 'Sense and Sensitivity' type of movie. I just love that movie. If I listened to the little voices inside my head, I'd ask him for a dance. But I'm not gonna push my luck.
We walk up the stairs, to my room. He pushes the door open and gestures for me to go in first. I would do just that, but I'm quite taken aback by the sight of my room: red and black lit candles everywhere, curtains open to let in the full moon light, ginger incense burning, satin sheets instead of my usual blanket and, of course, the dessert, on the floor next to my bed. A bowl of strawberries, some whipped cream, and some hot melted chocolate.
Can I take back what I said earlier? About my not being able to eat anything anymore? 'Cause I can definitely eat those - off Spike's perfect chest, that is.
"Luv?"
I turn to him and smile. Just a huge wide enormous smile. "Thanks."
He smiles back, and I've never seen anything that beautiful. "Again, the pleasure's equally mine. Will you come in now?"
I walk into my room. This is just perfect. Looks as if it were taken out of a silly love movie - only it's real, it's here and now and it's happening to me. I can feel his presence in my back, and I'm not surprised when one of his hands seizes mine and makes me turn back to him. His hands rest on my lower back now, as he pulls me closer to him, and it feels as if they belong there.
"Welcome home, Red. I was thinking we might decorate our future bedroom in this style. What do you think?"
"Welcome home, Spike," I answer.
He kisses me sweetly, the tip of his tongue barely caressing my lips, and I just wanna melt in him and stay there forever.
"Willow, will you..." I give him another sweet kiss to encourage him into telling me what he wanna tell me. "Will you be my mate?"
My time to smirk. I show him the bite mark he's given me. "I thought that question had already been answered."
He smiles again, and I know I'll never see enough of that smile. Yep, tonight, we're gonna become mates. The only thing to do is for me to bite him with all my strength, when he bites me, as our orgasms hit us - quite a simple ritual. And my jaws have had practice lately, with this dinner. I'll be his mate tonight.
"I guess we'll have to give it a try then, love."
"Guess so. It's not like we have much of a choice."
And his lips are crushing my lips as he makes me lie on my bed, and I know this is gonna be a long, long night as he comes on top of me. Vampire stamina, healing spells - we sure can last all night. Guess the remaining crêpes will be for this afternoon, not this morning.
Like I said, we don't have much of a choice. All we can choose is what we're gonna do with the time we're given, that's all that ever matters. I don't intend to spend it sleeping, not when we live on the Hellmouth and we could both be dead by tomorrow evening, because of a demon or other. We're gonna make the most of it.
"Spike?" He looks up from my neck, stops licking the bite mark. "I love you."
Once again, one of his wonderfully true smiles, so different from his usual smirks. "Love you too, Red." Then his smile turns into a mischievious grin. "Though I'd love you all the better if you had no clothes on."
I playfully slap him on the arm, but immediately start helping him rid us both of our clothes. Yeah, we're gonna give it a hell of a try.