A/N: written for the LJ communities spuffy_haven and 20_hot_prompts using prompt #3 chocolate. Many many thanks to my betas spikeslovebite and debris4spike! I owe you, gals!



‘he lives in my basement
and I can hardly face it
my performance is easy
i am the god of romance
and in my confusion
i have the right to reign’
- “radio” by robbie williams

A terrible sound came from the kitchen, followed by a loud curse. “Christ on a crutch!”

“Now, now...what kind of language is that on the day before Christmas?” Spike leaned against the door to the basement, his arms crossed in front of his chest, an amused smile on his lips.

“Oh, shut up,” Buffy snapped at him as she juggled a hot baking tray from the oven to the counter, kicking the oven door shut at the same time. “This is a freaking disaster.”

“What the hell are you doing? And where is everybody? Hate it say this, but it’s awfully quiet around here.” The vampire peered over the counter to see what she was fussing about.

With an exhausted sigh, she threw her oven mitts on the counter. “In reverse order, Dawn is at Janice’s. The Potentials are at the Bronze Christmas party with the others, and I…I’m baking cookies.” She picked up another baking tray that she must have dropped earlier. “Which is turning into… a freaking disaster.”

Spike frowned at her. “And why are you being all domestic instead of partying with the others?”

The Slayer shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like partying. And with all this mess, I wanted… I guess I wanted to have some alone time.”

The vampire nodded, somewhat disappointed. “Right then, I leave you to it.”

He had already turned halfway back to the basement door when she called after him.

“Or… or maybe you could help me?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I didn’t mean alone time as in one hundred years of solitude. And I could… really use some help with this.”

Spike couldn’t help the smirk that crept on his lips. “As long as you don’t make me wear an apron.”

She grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave you the dignity.” Buffy lowered her gaze as a light blush colored her cheeks. “So, ehm… how are your baking skills?”

Spike rounded the counter only to find the contents of the other baking tray burned and scattered over the kitching floor. “Safe to say, they’re better than yours.”

“Great, smartass.” She tossed the oven mitts at him. “Then you’re going to help me cover these,” she pointed at the not-burned, not-scattered cookies on the counter, “with chocolate. And there’s enough dough left for another tray. So get cracking.”

He tipped his fingers against his forehead in a mock-salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

As Buffy took a bowl with more dough from the fridge, Spike started to pick up the other cookies.

“So… what’s this all about? The baking? And did I see Xander bringing in a Christmas tree?”

“Yeah, it’s in the living room. I know it’s pretty much redundant but… I thought it would be nice for the Potentials to have some sort of Christmas. Something to take their minds off of fighting and death.”

“Nice move, keeping the troops happy.” He bit into one of the less burned cookies in the shape of a star, crunching happily. “And these aren’t half bad.”

Buffy scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Spike, those are burnt to a crisp. You can’t eat those.”

He just shrugged. “Vampire, remember? Won’t get food poisoning. Or cancer, for that matter.”

“You still shouldn’t. They’re practically charcoal. Throw ‘em out.” The Slayer held out the trashcan and he expertedly dumped the cookies/bits of charcoal into it. “Now, I’ll give you the tough but manageable task of melting chocolate. You think you can handle that?”

“Will try my very best.”

Much to Buffy’s surprise, the vampire managed pretty well. Better than she would have herself, but she would never tell him that.

“What are you staring at? Something not right?”

“What?” She snapped out of her reverie. She hadn’t even been aware that she’d been staring at him as he had moved around the kitchen. “No, nothing. It’s all good.” Heat crept into her cheeks and she turned away from him, trying to busy herself with placing the unbaked cookies on the tray.

“Buffy.”

Having him say her name like that always had a special effect on her. He either called her by her title or he had a million and three nicknames, some of which she wished he wouldn’t use in a houseful of teenaged girls.

“It’s nothing, really. I was just…” She sighed. “It’s just nice to… take a break, you know? I haven’t had some quiet time in a while now. And it’s good to see you up and running again after… You look good.” If her head would explode right now, it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise. “It’s nice just to…” her worlds trailed off when they stopped making sense alltogether. That’s what she got for inviting him for some domestic fun.

Once more, he couldn’t help but smile at her helplessness. “Don’t sweat it, luv. I get what you mean.” For a long moment, he just looked at her, that smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And for just a second, Buffy’s heart seemed to skip a beat. There she stood in the middle of the mess she called her kitchen, evil more afoot than it had ever been, and she was… what? Flirting with Spike? Over baking cookies, no less.

But that didn’t make her words less true. It was nice to see to see him without any bruises for a change, and just to talk to him. Since he’d been back, they’d hardly ever talked, him not quite being chock full of sanity had been one reason on a long list. And since then, there had just never been the time. They were at ease with one another for the first time in a long while. Who knew how long this moment would last?

“Is this alright?”

Once more, Buffy realised that she had been staring at him. Now, she blinked her way back to reality again.

Spike stood at the stove, a spoon in hand, hot, melted chocolate dripping off it.

Dipping her finger into the bowl that merrily jittered in the pot of boiling water, she caught a dribble of dark chocolaty treat and lifted it into her mouth.

“Ow, hot!” She waved a hand in front of her o-shaped mouth, then held up a thumb to give her okay. “Perfect. I just pop the other tray into the oven, then we’ll cover the others in the goodness.”

As these things go, it became quiet a mess.

“I’m not an expert, but are my fingers supposed to be covered in more chocolate than the cookies?” Spike held up his chocolate covered hand, trying to wriggle his fingers to keep them from crusting together.

“Doubtful, but they still look good. I was going to wrap little packages for the Potentials. Get them each a stake, something like that.”

“Sounds nice.”

Buffy snorted indelicately. “Sounds stupid. They’re probably going to throw them at me.”

“No, they won’t. They’ll appreciate the gesture.”

“You think?” Hope sparked in the Slayer’s eyes.

“’Course I do.” Spike shrugged, peeling the excess chocolate off his fingers. “You’re doing everything you can, they know that. You fought that vamp, freed me, and you’re making Christmas for them. What more could they ask for?”

“Besides not getting killed in the battle and more than one bathroom to share?”

“Besides that, yeah.”

A grin started to spread on her face. “And here I thought I was the only one who could give motivational speeches.” Within a heartbeat, her mood sobered a little. “It’s just… I have no idea what I’m doing, you know? I never made Christmas. My mom was always in charge of the festivities. She always made the perfect Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and Halloween. Now it’s my turn and… I’m the Slayer and I can’t even get the star on top of the Christmas tree. Or bake a decent amount of cookies.” She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the sad glitter in her eyes. Of course, he’d already seen it.

Hesitantly, Spike placed his non-chocolate covered hand on her shoulder, the gesture almost a little too intimate. “It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry about it. You try, and that’s what counts. Especially on Christmas.”

She turned to look up at him, her eyes still glistening just a little.

“Let me and my vampire super powers take care of that star of yours,” he continued with a smirk, then picked up one of the cookies and bit off half. “And have a try of these. They’re really good. I doubt that your mum could have made them any better.”

Now, a full-fledged grin appeared on the Slayer’s lips. “That’s because she didn’t have her little vampire elf to help her.”

“Don’t you ever…” He couldn’t say anything more, for she seized his wrist and snacked the other half of the cookie right out of his fingers, her tongue catching his fingertip along the way.

“You’re right,” she said, munching. “Those are….” Her words trailed off when she looked at him.

It was then that things started to shift.

She took a step forward, closing the gap between them. And then, she wrapped her lips around his chocolate-coated finger, gently starting to lick off the goodness.

Spike could only stare at her in utter disbelief. He tried to understand what was happening but his mind pulled a blank. There he was, standing in the kitchen with the woman he loved more than anything, and she was sucking chocolate off his index finger.

It couldn’t be anything but a dream. But if it was only a dream, why did it feel so amazingly real? Why was it that all he wanted to do was to press up against the counter and replace his finger with…

“Buffy.” His voice had darkened a shade or three, and it shook audibly. “Buffy, don’t.”

With a little pop, he pulled his finger from her mouth and took a step back.

As he did, a deep crimson blush exploded on Buffy’s cheeks and she covered her chocolate-smeared mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry,” she murmered into her palm, her eyes wide with something close to horror. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have…”

Spike swallowed hard as he took another step away from her. He had to lower his head or she would have seen that his eyes had darkened as well, the parallel of her actions just too obvious to be ignored.

“’S alright,” he managed finally. But they both knew it wasn’t. Not with their history. Not with everything that had and hadn’t happened between them.

“Maybe you could…”

“I’ll take care of…”

They were talking at the same time, both frantically searching for a way out of the uncomfortable and ever increasing awkwardness.

“The star.” Spike was the first to get the upper hand of the conversation.

“Right, the star.” Buffy nodded a little too eagerly. “And I’ll clean up this mess. Looks like a battle ground in here.” With that, she busied herself with swiping cookie crumbs off the counter.

When Spike had left the kitchen, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. Her shoulders sagged and she covered her face with her hands, trying to get control of herself again.

What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all? Probably not. There had been only one thought occupying her brain at the time: delicious Spike fingers covered in delicious chocolate.

It wasn’t an overly obtrusive thing by their standards, but then, things had been different when the sucking of each other’s body parts had been involved. Those times were over, and probably over for good. At the same time, though, it had felt absolutely right. There was nothing to be ashamed of. They were adults, consenting and sober, so why…

Buffy sighed. Her elbows dropped on the counter with a thump that rattled her teeth. Tears were threatening to flood her eyes. She shouldn’t have done it. Things were already awkward enough between them, and they had gotten worse since she’d been on that date with Robin Wood.

It always took a third party to make one realize the weirdness of a relationship-and there was none to begin with. Hell, no. Of course not. Nu-uh! It had been Spike who had made her re-think her relationship with Riley back in the days. Well, him and the fact that her boyfriend was paying vampires for suck-jobs. And now that she’d been on that date/demon hunt with the principal, it made her re-think her… whatever.

A loud clatter tore her mind off of the confusing matters at hand. It came from the living room.

***

Spike’s hands had been shaking. No, scratch that. His entire body had been shaking. Shaking with desire, and lust, and fear, and confusion, and more things he didn’t even have a name for.

He still tried to convince himself that he was dreaming. That he would wake up on the cot in the basement, the house full of potential Slayers, and this would all have been just a dream. A hot dream, but a dream nontheless.

Not only wasn’t he able to imagine that Buffy would ever want to… and with him… and… what was he thinking? It had been a glitch. A Christmas-induced glitch. Nothing more. And still, he couldn’t help but think of the possibilities.

Her words still rang in his ears when she had told him she wasn’t ready for him to leave. That meant more to him than she could possibly know. He thought he knew where his place in her life was- living in the basement was entire mission statement on its own- but with those words and with what she’d done now, she’d sent him spiraling from one wild theory to the next. Neither had a very pleasant outcome.

No matter what path his thoughts followed, they all held pain and dispair of sorts. He’s had his chance- or so he thought at times- but he had screwed that up pretty badly. And getting the soul hadn’t been that much of a smart idea. So yeah, maybe she had cherished that, but since his insanity had pulled the First in its wake, she sure wasn’t so happy about it anymore.

So what was he supposed to do now? He could pretend it had never happened, with the exception being that he really couldn’t. There was no way to just ignore it, even if it only served for some sweet dreams during the day.

But he certainly couldn’t go for it as well. There were more reasons than he could count why he couldn’t go for it.

Bracing himself against the upcoming awkwardness, Spike picked up the glittery silver star from its box on the couch and peered at the top of the Christmas tree. It wasn’t going to be easy; the stupid thing was at least seven foot tall, but he couldn’t back down now. Even in the prospect of failure, he had to at least try. Because that’s what he’d always been doing – trying.

One foot on the armrest of the couch, the other outstretched to maintain some small measure of balance. A set up like that just had to go wrong.

Although the star was now perched up on the tree, the vampire lay on his back admidst a clutter of nuts and candy. Miraculously, he had missed crashing into the coffee table. Instead, he had just knocked over one of the bowls, sending its contents flying throughout the room.

“Spike, you alright?” Buffy came rushing from the kitchen just as he was about to get up again.

“Perfect. Just a slight misunderstanding with gravity.” He tried to shrug it off, but his ego had already taken the blow.

“The star looks good, though. Thank you.” She pushed her hands into the back pockets of her pants, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“You’re welcome.”

Once more, thick uncomfortable silence settled between them. It took Buffy over a minute to break it.

“Spike, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t thinking. It just happened and… can we just ignore it or something? I don’t want us to be all awkward.” Even as she said it, Buffy knew it was already too late for that.

Spike looked at for a long moment before he nodded curtly. “Right. ‘S all forgotten.” He gestured towards the basement door. “I should…” He had already turned away from her when she spoke again.

“Spike, will you spend Christmas with me?”

He turned and stared at her as though she’d just asked him for a ritual sacrifice. “What?”

Buffy sighed, her cheeks gaining color. “Will you spend Christmas with me? Just… plain old Christmas, some eggnog, some cookies. Maybe we could… I don’t know. Watch a movie or something.” He still didn’t respond in any way whatsoever, he just kept staring at her. “I just… I just thought it’d be nice. We never had a chance to… just hang out. With the girls around and the First and everything. It’s Christmas and I just thought…”

“Yeah,” he interupted her finally. “Sounds good.”

A slightly goofy grin curved her lips. “Great. Let me just change out of my gingerbread clothes. I’ll be right back.” With that, she sped up the stairs to her room.

Spike could hear her door clicking shut behind her before he let out a breath he neither needed nor knew he was holding in the first place. What the hell was happening here? It dawned on him that he might still be held captive by the First and this was just some very elaborate fantasy.

Fearing the mess he’d gotten himself into just now, he went back into the kitchen to get rid off the last bits of crusted chocolate on his hand. Then he went down into the basement to change into a clean shirt. If he was getting roasted alive in Buffy’s presence, he might as well look good.

He wasn’t aware that he’d spent the better of twenty minutes pacing back and forth in the basement. When he came back up again, soft music was drifting through the house. The living room was bathed in the soft light from the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights blinking slowly.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Buffy had let her hair down and it fell in golden waves around her face. She had changed into a burgundy red slip dress, and to his surprise, she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“Buffy.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she looked up from the candle on the coffee table she was just about to light.

“Hm?” Her lips shone glossy red in the warm light.

“You look…” If only he had a word for it. There were so many but they all seemed pretty much redundant right now.

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” Then she pointed at his own black, button-down shirt. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He shrugged, trying to cover the sheer admiration that coursed through him. “We’re pretty people.”

Buffy grinned at that, brushing her hair behind one ear. “We didn’t have any eggnog but when Giles came back, he brought a bottle of wine. I hope Merlot is okay?”

“It’s red and sparkly. Just how I like it.”

“Good. Ew, but good.” Buffy picked up the two glasses she had poured for them and held one out for him.

Slowly, he breeched the gap between them, still not sure if this was the right thing to do. He probably should just go back into his dark and dank basement instead of having a drink with Buffy. But he had already gone this far. It couldn’t get any worse.

“How did you manage all this in twenty minutes?” he asked when his hand closed around the glass. For a split second, his fingers brushed against Buffy’s hand and he saw goosebumps ripple up her arm.

She gave him a cheeky smile. “Special Slayer skills.” Letting out a breath, she raised her glass. “Merry Christmas, Spike.”

It took him a second to respond in kind, the words feeling awkwardly unfamiliar. “Merry Christmas, Buffy.”

The wine tasted of dark, rich fruit, and it spread a nice warmth through his body. All the while, his eyes never left Buffy’s. There was nothing uncomfortable about that look. For just a second, they were at ease.

Of course, that little bubble popped with Buffy’s next question.

“Will you dance with me?”

“What?”

“I know it sounds weird but… like I said before; it’s Christmas. And I just want to… enjoy this.”

Buffy had absolutely no idea what she was putting him through. If she did, she was more cruel than he had thought possible.

“Buffy, I…”

“I’m sorry.” She stepped away from him. “You’re right. It’s too much. Once again, Buffy and thinking are very unmixy things. Let’s just sit and watch a movie or something. We still have the Grinch somewhere on tape. I never got around to watching it and…”

Spike’s fingers slipped into her’s as she was about to start flailing, and she could swear that his hand was trembling a little. With huge eyes, the Slayer looked up at him. He had set down his glass, his eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“Are you sure?” Buffy asked carefully, suddenly not so sure herself. They were bumbling from one strange situation into the next, each one more uncomfortable than the one before. And there seemed to be nothing they could do about it.

“No,” he admitted, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

As Eva Cassidy started to sing about fields of barley, Buffy set down her glass and wrapped her arms around his neck. She took another step forward, closing the gap between them. Her eyes shone in the light of the Christmas tree, and she blinked slowly before she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Spike’s hand found the small of her back, discovering the exitingly low cut of her dress. Her skin burned hot underneath his fingertips, and he expected his hand to catch fire any second. Oh, yes. He should have gone back into the basement. Very much so.

But how much had he missed feeling her body against his? How much had he missed her presence, much less her warmth? So very much.

As she rested her head against his chest, he was glad not to have a heartbeat. His heart would have been racing, putting him this close to a heart attack. And he probably would have had sweaty palms as well.

They slowly swayed to the music, not really dancing just lingering in each other’s presence.

If he hadn’t been dead already, Spike would have dropped dead the second Buffy’s lips met his.

He all but flinched upon the contact, staring at her. She seemed just as confused as he was but she didn’t shy away from it. Why not? She should have, but she didn’t even move. Instead, she just looked at him with those big green eyes, for the first time unreadable. A small eternity passed before she once more stood in tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Buffy…” His voice was shaking as he pulled away from her, bringing a few feet of distance between them.

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted…” Buffy blushed violently, irritated and embarassed as hell. “Don’t you want…”

With a scoff, Spike ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “Of course, I want.” He turned back to her, regretting the harsh tone in his voice. “I always… I always want. And I always will. It’s just… What is this, Buffy?”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

“But I have to know. I have to know that this…” he gestured between them, “that this isn’t just because of Christmas.” He took a breath and exhaled slowly. “You told me you weren’t ready for me to leave. You gave me…” Once more he hesitated, struggling to find the right word. “Hope. You gave me hope. Don’t rip it out from under my feet. Because if this is… if this doesn’t mean anything… then you might as well kill me.”

Buffy regarded him for a long time, her eyes unsteadily ghosting over him. His voice had been calm but the look on his face had betrayed him. There had been insecurity, and self-consciousness, and a good portion of fear.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, “if I’ve ever led you on.”

At that, his face fell, her words like a punch in the stomach. She saw him swallowing, gathering his composure. Or, more accurately, picking up the pieces, thereof. Then he gave a jerky little nod.

“Right, then.” This time his voice did shake as he turned away from her. “I’ll just… I’ll go.”

“Where are you going?” she called after him incredulously.

With his back still turned to her, he shrugged. “Basement. Out for a smoke. Dunno. Just… I need to get out of here.”

“Spike, didn’t you hear what I just said?” Buffy became more and more confused.

He glanced over his shoulder, a frown marring his brow. “You said that…”

“I know what I said,” she interupted him. “But that’s not what I meant.”

Obviously annoyed, Spike turned back to her. “Care to fill me in on that, then?”

Buffy hesitated for a moment, suddenly craving the rest of her wine. “What I meant was…” Her words broke off as she loooked at him, seeing anger bubbling behind his façade. “I haven’t treated you right in the past. And yet, you went and got a soul.”

“Buffy…” He took a little step towards her, his features softening again.

“No. You asked, now I’m telling. You went and got a soul. And the First captured and tortured you because the soul made you weak. And all that because of me. When the First got you, I didn’t sleep. Not for a second. Because all I could think about was how to get you back.” Buffy’s voice started to shake and her eyes glittered with threatening tears. “I didn’t care about that vampire. He was just… an obstacle. All I cared about was getting you back. Because I can’t do this without you, I can’t fight this war without you. I need you in this. And not just because you’re a kickass fighter when it comes to it. I need you because I love you.”

Spike couldn’t have been more surprised. Surprised and…

He could only stare at her for what seemed like an eternity. There was not a thought that crossed his mind. Not a single one. Her words had just wiped his mind blank, much as he had, well, thought they would.

After full five minutes, he finally found his voice again. “Am I dreaming?”

An insecure little smile tugged on Buffy’s lips. “Afraid not.”

“Didn’t think so. Didn’t feel like a dream.” Somehow the vampire managed to look a little green around the nose, about to throw up.

Another minute passed. “Spike, can you please say something?” Buffy wasn’t only irritated, she started to get scared. She stepped forward to close the distance between them.

Spike looked away from her, his gaze focusing on some point over her shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was trembling violently. “If I had one chance, just one chance to make it all right, I would do anything…” Something about his own words struck him and he blinked. “I mean; I wouldn’t….” Finally, he looked at her and there was something odd in his eyes. Confusion, fear, and pain. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry.”

Her hand darted up to his cheek. “You don’t have to be.”

“Buffy, did you mean what you just said?” Now, there was only fear.

She spoke with no hesitation. “Yes.”

“And that other thing? The one before.”

“That, too.”

“Alright.”

In a flash, he had closed the gap between them, his hands threaded into her golden curls, stealing a heated kiss from her lips.

“I love you,” he breathed against her skin when she pulled back for air.

“And I love you, too.” And yeah, she meant it, too. Buffy looked at him with all sincerity. It hadn’t even occurred to her before. She had thought about it from time to time, especially when Willow had questioned her about her attentions with Robin Wood. But not the thought nor the emotion itself had been as clear to her as they were now. Maybe it was because of Christmas, but that didn’t make it any less true.

Once more, he captured her mouth. His tongue teased her lips ever so gently, demanding entrance. She tasted like red wine and heaven and all the pleasurable things he couldn’t name.

As the kiss deepened, her hands gripped him by the collar of his shirt, her body pressing up against his. She hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, and never like this before. Not by him. They had done all sorts of things to one another in the past, but they had never kissed like this. Or she had never let him kiss her like this, to be exact.

Spike’s hands trailed down her back, sending a shiver down her spine. She felt so incredibly good, responding to his touch, her body pliant against his. He’d once been addicted to her touch and now he remembered why.

Slowly, she pulled away from him, her tongue darting over her lips as if to preserve his taste.

“Buffy, are you sure about this?” His voice was heavy, vibrating deep inside his chest as he leaned his forehead against hers. “There is no turning back if we…”

She shushed him by laying a finger on his lips. “I don’t want ‘back’. Back wasn’t good. All I want is…” She chuckled at own thoughts but her expression sobered before she continued, “All I want for Christmas is you.”