Word Count: 282
Setting: post-Something Blue
A/N: Perhaps less un-romantic than intended. (Why can I only write silly stuff when it's supposed to be angst? And vice versa?) Also, I would be very much surprised if this hasn't been done before...
Buffy volunteered to walk Willow back to the dorms before starting patrol. She was slightly too full of cookies, but had a baggie with more in her pocket, since it was easier to take them than to refuse Willow when she made remorse-eyes. Who knew? She might get hungry later, if she actually slayed as many vampires as she was hoping to. If she ended up in a memory loop of despair instead, well, the chocolate wouldn’t hurt.
Not that she was even that upset anymore, but Willow wouldn’t stop coming up with reasons why she should be. It was beginning to tick her off.
“And, and he’s a smoker, too! That must have been really icky, Buffy! You always said you’d never even date a guy who smoked! But it went way beyond the dating stage, with the swapping of spit and everything. It must have been just awful for you.”
Awful, thought Buffy.
“How does he get off complaining about ‘Buffy taste’ when he’s the one with the dirty smoker mouth, anyway? I’m so, so sorry, Buffy!”
“Yeah, I know. But there’s no point in focusing on the bad. We should just put it behind us, starting now, okay?"
“Okay. Sure thing.”
They walked on. Swapping spit with Spike did sound pretty yucky. It’s just, well, the phrase didn’t take into account the whole part with the supple lip movements, or the intensity, or the electrical hand splayed across the small of her back. It left out the gentle suction that seemed to pull at her heart and a few other internal organs besides.
No, she was pretty sure that kissing Spike was nothing at all like licking an ashtray.