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anythingdrabble2025-04-22 11:10 pm
apachefirecat) wrote in anythingdrabble2025-04-22 11:10 pm
Entry tags:
386. Bite - BtVS - Spuffy - Support
Title: Support
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Her Spike is supportive, as always.
Spike frowned as he watched Buffy wrap a silk scarf around her neck. He stood in their doorway, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. "Feel the need to hide again, I see."
Her green eyes flicked up, as if she could meet his gaze in the mirror which, of course, she could not. After all these years, she still sometimes managed to forget his Vampire nature. She supposed, tightening the knot on her scarf and turning to face him with a smile she hoped would remind him that she did adore him and was proud of him, and his marks, that that was because his Vampirism was only a very small bit of the man he was. It had taken them years, decades even, for her to truly understand what an incredible man he was, to look pass their past, his former deeds, and all the history between Vampires and Slayers to see him for the man he truly was. A good man. A man she trusted with everything and everyone important to her to her very last breath.
She had come to be proud to be his, and to be his wife. She just didn't need questionable marks showing on her neck in an interview. "It's just for the interview," she said, grabbing her purse and starting to walk toward him. "I don't want them asking what happened on my last job, let alone studying bites on my neck."
"It is the twenty first century, luv," he remarked, black, upper lip pulling back in a slight snarl. "A bloke's got a right to mark his wife."
She giggled, a sound that had not escaped her pretty, pink lips in some time. That sound brought all his other thoughts to a crashing halt, and he growled softly. "Are you sure those pants are work appropriate?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as she came to a stop before him. He wrapped his arms around her, slid his hands into her back pockets, and squeezed her, reminding her with a firm grasp that she was his.
She understood his gesture and, to both their surprise, giggled again. "I'm always yours," she told him, searching his eyes for understanding, "rather they see it or not."
"How long you gotta wear that bloody thing?" he asked, angling his mouth for her neck. She prepared herself to have to pull away, but instead he only kissed the spot over the mark he'd left just last night.
She shrugged. "For the first week or two. Just until my work ethics can speak for themselves and they forget to stare at the strange newbie." When he didn't respond, she began to prattle. "I mean, it's not like I want to have to work. If they paid Slayers -- "
"Keep sayin' we need to look into that." His forehead rested against hers.
"We could if -- "
"It's all right, luv. I get it. Knock 'em dead." He kissed her, supportive as always.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Her Spike is supportive, as always.
Spike frowned as he watched Buffy wrap a silk scarf around her neck. He stood in their doorway, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. "Feel the need to hide again, I see."
Her green eyes flicked up, as if she could meet his gaze in the mirror which, of course, she could not. After all these years, she still sometimes managed to forget his Vampire nature. She supposed, tightening the knot on her scarf and turning to face him with a smile she hoped would remind him that she did adore him and was proud of him, and his marks, that that was because his Vampirism was only a very small bit of the man he was. It had taken them years, decades even, for her to truly understand what an incredible man he was, to look pass their past, his former deeds, and all the history between Vampires and Slayers to see him for the man he truly was. A good man. A man she trusted with everything and everyone important to her to her very last breath.
She had come to be proud to be his, and to be his wife. She just didn't need questionable marks showing on her neck in an interview. "It's just for the interview," she said, grabbing her purse and starting to walk toward him. "I don't want them asking what happened on my last job, let alone studying bites on my neck."
"It is the twenty first century, luv," he remarked, black, upper lip pulling back in a slight snarl. "A bloke's got a right to mark his wife."
She giggled, a sound that had not escaped her pretty, pink lips in some time. That sound brought all his other thoughts to a crashing halt, and he growled softly. "Are you sure those pants are work appropriate?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as she came to a stop before him. He wrapped his arms around her, slid his hands into her back pockets, and squeezed her, reminding her with a firm grasp that she was his.
She understood his gesture and, to both their surprise, giggled again. "I'm always yours," she told him, searching his eyes for understanding, "rather they see it or not."
"How long you gotta wear that bloody thing?" he asked, angling his mouth for her neck. She prepared herself to have to pull away, but instead he only kissed the spot over the mark he'd left just last night.
She shrugged. "For the first week or two. Just until my work ethics can speak for themselves and they forget to stare at the strange newbie." When he didn't respond, she began to prattle. "I mean, it's not like I want to have to work. If they paid Slayers -- "
"Keep sayin' we need to look into that." His forehead rested against hers.
"We could if -- "
"It's all right, luv. I get it. Knock 'em dead." He kissed her, supportive as always.
The End