Rating: Mature, 'cos language and S6 shenanigans
Word count: 540
Prompt: Seeing Isn't Believing
Summary: Spike's sure he's got it all figured...
—Buffy to Spike, in Gone
Buffy's playing-hard-to-get, kiss-chase thing had been cute. Although it was much cuter in retrospect. Once she had stopped running, or been stopped in a riot of falling timbers (dangerous, that), Spike thought fondly of all that equivocation as just one of her little foibles. He would like to say that he'd known all along that she'd come to see his charms, but it had been touch-and-go, literally, right up until she'd wrestled his zipper open and he found himself balls-deep in, well, something a lot closer to heaven than he'd ever hoped to attain.
Her harsh words of the next morning might've been more convincing if he hadn't already seen the raw heart of her. (Not literally.) Her scarpering was all part of the game she insisted on playing with herself. Wasn't about him at all. His century-plus with Drusilla had left him more than able to deal with his lady love's whimsies. He did have patience, when he felt like exercising it.
Sure enough, she'd come to him again that same night, with the excuse of needing to track Dawn. So cute. Turned out, Dawn had needed a bit of aid, and he'd ended up sitting with her in the ER instead of enjoying the succulent fruits of his new relationship with her sister. It didn't matter. He was clearly part of Buffy's life now. Accepted as the adjunct protector of her family. Her helpmeet. A real partner.
Which made her dismissal the next morning chafe a little. (Literally and figuratively, in this case. Even his loosest jeans were not giving him much relief from the effects of the marathon shag of the night before last. The vivid memories didn't help with that, but he wouldn't wish them away for anything. Maybe he should dig out some of his old boxers, just for the time being.) Anyway, he'd left her with a taste of her own medicine, for a change. As in, he'd left. If he knew his Slayer, and he did, she'd be along in a few hours to set him straight. (There went the chaffing again.)
He hadn't expected her to show up in this state: completely invisible. He'd had a few bad moments before he twigged that the ghostly succubus manhandling him was just the girl he wanted to see, so to speak. That's when the fun started.
And it was fun, chaffing be damned. It was more than good to have her — the real, true Buffy — in his arms. He might not be able to see her, literally, but he could discern every precious thing about her just fine. She was so carefree and playful, just as he'd always known she could be, once she let herself. This was what he'd wanted to provide for her. A little joy and sweetness to bring relief from all the difficulties she faced. Every couple had to deal with the problems of life, or what all. Offer shelter to their beloved from all those slings and arrows. If he could make her laugh, make her come, make her forget her own name for a few moments — as well as her troubles — that was a good start.
They'll handle the rest as it comes. Together.