Ribbed

Title: Ribbed 1/1

By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com

Rated PG-13 for implied sexual situations and mild profanity

Keywords: buffy, spike, kiss, love, crypt...

All characters and places presented in this story belong to Joss Whedon.

Summary: Buffy finds herself in an awkward situation when she finds out

Spike wants more from her than she thinks...

Ribbed

Spike's Crypt

Friday Night

7:30

As Buffy walked up to Spike's doorway, she checked her watch, smoothed the

wrinkles from her jacket, and pulled down the hem of her skirt before

knocking. She was brushing the hair away from her face when Spike answered

the door.

"Hi Spike," Buffy said, trying not to stare.

"Come on in, Slayer." Spike was leaning against the doorframe, shirtless,

hair still wet from the shower, "And you actually knocked this time. Good

for you!"

"You have a shower in this place?" asked Buffy.

"You'd be surprised."

"I see." Buffy answered, squeezing past him into the crypt, "Am I early?"

"No, no. I was late getting into the shower. I'll be right out."

Buffy watched Spike disapear into

the crypt basement. Buffy paced around the rest of the room.

"Make yourself at home, then!" Spike called out.

"Sure." Buffy said, smiling to herself, 'Make myself home, where?'

Buffy decided he must have meant the rest of his home and she climbed down

the ladder. She had never really seen the rest of his crypt, but it was

really not that different from your average apartment. Somehow, he managed

to get running water here. 'Oh yeah,' Buffy reminded herself, 'The

gravedigger used to live here. Until he ran into a vampire...'

She took in the pillow and blankets on his couch, the coffee table

overflowing with magazines, empty blood-packets, and take-out containers.

Buffy stood uncomfortably in his home, wondering what to do, when the phone

rang.

"You have a phone, too?" Buffy called out, "Do you want me to get that,

Spike?"

"No, I've got it, love." Spike hurried out of the bathroom to grab the

phone. She noticed toothpaste on the corner of his mouth.

"Spike." he intones gruffly.

Buffy pointed at his mouth and then wiped away the imaginary toothpaste at

the corner of her own mouth. His scarred eyebrow rose in question, but then

he got it. He winked at her and scrubbed at his mouth with the heel of his

hand. Buffy grinned.

"Red?"

Willow? Why would Willow call Spike? Probably checking up on a featured

creature. Buffy checked her watch again and tapped her foot. She hoped this

wouldn't take too long, whatever it was about. She wanted to beat some

demons up. The vampires would be up soon.

Buffy walked around the room while she waited, trying not to listen in on

his conversation. As she bended down over his coffee table, trying to make

sense of the disaray, she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was

still shirtless. For some reason she wished he'd go put a shirt on. He saw

her looking at him and smiled. 'Shit.'

"All right, Red, what do you have for me?" Spike said into the phone.

Buffy wandered off into what seemed like a kitchen, though there was really

just a microwave and a tiny portable fridge with a small garbage can. She

tried to get her bearings together. 'What is wrong with me, tonight?'

'I'm just a little nervous,' she told herself, as she circled the small

room, 'I'm not sure why, though. Me and Spike patrol all the time

together...but it seems we've been on some kind of crash course,

toward...well, I don't know for sure...The tension I've been feeling over

the past week, the strange glances I've been getting from him, it's starting

to feel a little wiggy...

"I'm too old for this stuff," Buffy grumbled and with a frown realized that

she was only 20 years old. But of course, she was practically ancient for a

Slayer.

She headed back into the living room.

"...really want everything to be-" Spike saw her enter the room and paused,

"Hey, Red, can you hold a minute?" Spike covered the mouthpiece of the phone

with his hand, "Uh, Slayer, I'm almost finished with this. I'm just going

into the bedroom so I can change. Wait a minute, love?"

Buffy shrugged her indifference but Spike headed toward the bedroom before

she could say anything. Buffy decided to get comfortable. She didn't know

how long it would take but she felt stupid just fidgeting around like an

impatient toddler. She took off her jacket, revealing the silk tank beneath.

As she passed Spike's bedroom on her way to the chair by the T.V, Buffy

heard her name. Normally, Buffy wouldn't even of thought twice about it, but

tonight wasn't normal. And besides, what could Spike be telling Willow about

her?

Jacket still in her arms, Buffy migrated to Spike's bedroom door. It was

only closed halfway; Buffy could see him inside, pacing. His nervousness was

evident and the Slayer couldn't help but overhear what he was saying.

"This is really important to me, Red," He ran his hand through his damp

hair, "I think this could be the night."

'What?'

Buffy inched closer, holding her breath, hugging her jacket to her chest.

"I know, I know, pet. But I've been thinking about it a lot now." Spike

disapeared from her line of sight, but the creaking of bedsprings betrayed

his location. Buffy continued to listen. "I've put a lot of time and effort

into this." A loud sigh. "I'm hoping Buffy feels the same way."

'Whoa.'

Buffy backpedaled from the door, feeling the blush creep up her body. 'Does

Spike mean what I think he means? Oh no. Not Spike.' Heart jack-hammering in

her chest, Buffy was afraid to hear more but could not resist. Gulping, she

creeped near to the door again.

"It's been so long...yeah, I got the large...Yeah, like I would normally

get, but ribbed." Her eyes widened in surprise. "You think Buffy likes

ribbed?...Mhmmmm...I was trying to guess what color she would like best, but

of course that doesn't matter would it? Plus, it's not like a have a great

variety."

'Ohmigod...'

"Yeah, I know...whatever happens, happens. But the waiting is just killing

me, Red."

'Why, of all people, would Willow buy into this?' Buffy ran from the

bedroom, in a complete panic.

She was back in the living room, struggling into her jacket when Spike

emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a black sweater and jeans. Buffy froze,

like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Spike frowned in concern. "You

allright, love?"

Buffy stared at him like an idiot, one arm in her jacket, the other arm

curled in front of her protectively. 'Damn it, Buffy, say something!'

Spike strode toward her purposefully. "Here, let me help you with that,

pet."

Still mute, Buffy barely contained the involuntary jerk his touch invoked as

he helped her into her jacket. Buffy cleared her throat nervously.

"Thank you, um...Spike," Buffy was tugging on her skirt, looking at the

ground.

"I'm sorry I took so long, Slayer. Now we better go rough around a bit,

huh?"

Buffy looked at him with a horrified look, but when she realized he meant no

harm, nodded nervously. Spike moved to his chair, picking up his trademark

duster. Buffy let out a loud breath, thankful for having him out of her

personal space.

"We better get going or we'll miss our reservations. After eight thirty the

demons give your seats away. Damn buggers."

Buffy let him guide her to the door. Spike was still rambling on and on

about kicking some ass, but Buffy hardly heard him. Buffy walked ahead of

him, anxiety seeping into her body, wondering how to deal with this new and

awkward situation...

Spike's Crypt

11:45 PM

Buffy didn't know why she let Spike lead her back to his crypt. She could've

said she didn't feel well, or that she was tired, or that she had to do

something with her mother early in the morning. She should've just left.

'But no. I never take the easy way out.'

Patrolling was a blur. There had only been three easy-to-kill vampires and

everything she walked near him she felt like a boulder was rolling down to

the pit of her stomach. Also, she was desperately angry at herself for being

stupid enough to wear a skirt. Spike had been unnaturally quiet during the

patrol. Even in her state of anxiety, Buffy was still able to notice this.

They hadn't talked much. Their eyes had both flicked away from each other

nervously and shifted uncomfortably every time they accidentally touched.

When it had been nearly an hour without a sign of any demon activity, they

both knew it was time to leave.

The walk back to Spike's crypt was even worse. Spike kept coughing and

clearing his throat to the point of annoyance. Buffy thought she had never

wanted a drink more in her whole life. By the time the familiar abode came

into view her stomach was in knots and her knees were weak.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Spike asked.

Buffy sank into his couch, nodding her approval. As she heard glasses

clinking in the would-be-kitchen, her mind was working overtime.

'What the hell is going on here?' Buffy thought to herself, 'I mean, I hate

him...he hates me...it just doesn't work this way. We are mortal enemies, he

feeds off the weak, I protect the innocent. Those two factors never come

together well. But, of course, he hasn't necessarily fed off the weak for

about a year...but that wasn't his own choice. I mean, what the hell is

this? I don't whether to feel disgusted, manipulated or flattered! Did Spike

really think this would just happen because he decides it will?'

Spike returned with two beers.

"Do you have anything stronger?" Buffy mumbled.

"What was that, love?"

"Never mind." she answered.

Buffy took the proferred glass and sipped the cool beer. Spike sat down next

to her. They sat in silence, drinking. On an impulse, Buffy turned to Spike,

startling him in her suddenness.

"Spike?"

"Slayer." Spike's attentiveness was unnerving.

"I know what you're doing."

"What? Wait-"

"If you think I'd go through with it, you're dead wrong. This is way too

fast. Do you think I'm that easy?" Buffy took a huge gulp of her beer,

trying in vain to steady her shaking hand.

Spike was trying to swallow, his throat making dry, clicking sounds. "But-"

"I'm flattered, really I am, Spike. But I never pegged you as the type to go

for this and actually think I would agree? Do you think I'm stupid? And why

the hell did you involve Willow?" Buffy practically jumped from the couch,

pacing nervously in front of him as her anger increased.

"What?"

Buffy was sure that if Spike could blush, he would be cherry red by then. He

was looking around, as if to find some place to hide as Buffy continued to

rant.

"I mean, is this some adolescent frat boy vampire thing? Whoever screws the

Slayer first wins the prize? Are you trying to use me or something, because

of all people you should know I wouldn't fall for something like this. You

know, I was just starting to think that there was something at least decent

between us. Respect, maybe? I should have known...God! Do you really think

you could just give me some beers and I would hop into your bed?" Buffy was

done pacing and was now standing over him, hands on her hips, glowering.

Spike recovered, looking both angry and confused, "Now wait just a bloody

minute, Slayer. Just what are you implying?"

Spike stood, now looking down at her. Her nervousness returned.

"Oh, God. Don't play dumb with me, Spike." Buffy retorted.

"I'm not playing, Buffy."

His eyes were burning into hers. Buffy stifled a harsh laugh. "What was with

patrol then tonight? Actually being nice to me for once? Acting all strange

and staring at me all the time? The way you've been acting psycho the last

few weeks? The phone call from Willow?"

Spike's eyes narrowed, "You listened to my phone call?" Spike turned away

from her, shoulders slumped. "What did you hear?" he asked after a moment.

"Not much, really," Buffy paused at the awkwardness, "Okay, too much."

Spike turned back to her, eyes downcast, "I wanted this to be special,

Buffy. What's wrong with that?"

Buffy folded her arms across her chest protectively, "Apparently your

definition of special is a lot different from mine. God, did you really

think this would work?"

Confusion crossed Spike's face again, "You didn't answer me before, Slayer.

Just what are you implying?"

"Oh God, Spike..." Buffy sighed, "I heard you on the phone with Willow. I

heard you say something about tonight being the night. You said I hoped I

felt the same way..." Buffy paused, not sure of how to word the rest, "You

were talking about condoms, Spike. It doesn't take a genius to figure out

where you were going..."

Spike looked shocked and then he began to laugh. Loud deep laughs echoing

from his chest. Buffy stared at him, irritated.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"Buf-" Spike was gasping, wiping tears from his eyes, "Buffy, I never said

anything to Willow about condoms, I swear!"

"I heard you!"

Laughing fit subsiding, Spike strode over to her, placing his hands on her

shoulders. He looked her in the eye, "And what exactly did I say about these

condoms, pet?"

Buffy sputtered and stammered, not exactly used to this kind of talk with

the vamp, "Uh...well...you mentioned..ribbed...um...and you were...talking

about...colours..." She was blushing furiously, her ears burning.

Spike began roaring in laughter, "No, Slayer...I wasn't talking about

condoms...No wonder..." He trailed off, hands still on her shoulders,

leaning down into her, laughing into her hair.

Buffy pushed him away from her, her anger and humiliation mounting, "Then

what were you talking about?"

Spike stopped laughing so quickly she could almost hear his mouth snap shut.

He grabbed his beer off the table and slumped down into his couch.

"Spike..." Buffy warned.

He perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, swirling the beer

around in the bottle. Buffy could hear him mumble, "Sweater."

"Huh?" Buffy lowered herself down next to him.

Refusing to look up, he said softly, "My sweater, Slayer. I was telling Red

about my sweater."

Her eyes darted back to the black sweater Spike had worn that night. Black.

Like he always wore.

'Omigod...it's ribbed!'

Buffy was so embaressed, now it was her turn to talk into her lap. But

something was still nagging at her. Buffy turned to him and placed her hand

gently on his arm.

"Spike?"

"Yes, love?" He still wasn't looking at her.

"What does your sweater have to do with us?" She asked softly.

Spike downed his beer in one gulp. He set the bottle down hard on the table

and Buffy heard the deep breath he took. Buffy drew in her own breath and

held it. He faced her, the liquid depths of his eyes holding her captive.

"Buffy," he started slowly, "It's true. I did plan tonight. I did want

something to happen...with us...tonight. But not for the reason you thought

I did."

Buffy was drawn to his mouth, the way his lips moved to form his words. She

bit down nervously on her lower lip, and waited for him to continue. He

stared at her own mouth and something started to stir deep within her belly.

Buffy trembled slightly, hoping he couldn't see how he was affecting her.

"Buffy..." His voice had gone deeper, "I wanted tonight to be just right,

perfect..."

Buffy thought she could almost see Spike trembling too, and his voice had

dropped to nearly a whisper. "I'm tired of playing games with you. I'm tired

of hiding from you, being afraid of what you think of me," He licked his

lips and continued, "I finally decided that tonight...tonight..."

He trailed off, his eyes locked with hers. Buffy found herself lost in them,

so many unspoken thoughts, feelings and fears. But in that moment, it all

seemed so clear.

"Spike," Buffy whispered, "We shouldn't be doing this."

Spike shushed her with a finger to her lips. They were mere inches from each

other then, and she could feel his cool unecessary breath against her cheek.

"Buffy..."

"Spike..."

"I need you to know how much you really mean to me. I need you to know what

I feel for you. I need you to know that I...that I..."

He stopped again, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingertip. Buffy

was lost, her control crumbling under his touch, the voice in her head

screaming to stop this dying away. Spike leaned closer to her. Their mouths

were so close, Buffy could hear his breath in short pants, and she could

smell his familiar scent of musky sweat sweetening it. Time had stopped for

them. Somehow his hands had found their way into her hair and Buffy was

holding onto his biceps to steady herself. They were both trembling then and

Buffy could hear Spike softly whispering her name...

Before he crushed his lips onto hers, Buffy heard him say, "Buffy, I love

you."

His mouth was on hers and it felt like cool fire, searing her lips. After

what feels like an eternity, they pulled away and let each other's eyes

meet. He smiled at her, a wave of emotions passing over his face.

Buffy smiled back, "Ribbed, huh?"

Buffy reached out and touched the soft fabric of the form fitting shirt,

running her fingernails down the vertical ruts. She chuckled as Spike

grabbed her and held her close. He planted gentle kisses on the part of her

hair, and Buffy laid her head against his cool chest. She rubbed her cheek

up and down it, reveling into the smoothness. She snuggled in closer,

wrapping her arms around him. Buffy closed her eyes and smiled to herself.

"For her pleasure." Buffy whispered.

The End