— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
Chapter 18: Time
[ Read the whole story | Read the last chapter ]
A/N: Thanks, everyone who has read and commented and been generally amazing! I'm so excited that so many of you are still or newly on board and enjoyed the last installment. This is kind of a short bridge that's not nearly as exciting ('cause Spike is only accessible by phone), but you know, necessary evils etc. I promise I will soon make up for it with TOTAL SPIKE OVERDOSE. Until then...
A/N #2: Question for the grammar nazis, I mean, awesome smart people - is it "as if it WAS rigged to explode" or "as if it WERE rigged to explode"? | ETA: I got my answer! ('Were' is the what.) Thanks awesome smart people!
Buffy didn't have the time.
A power surge had zapped all their clocks, bedside alarm included, and now she and Lindsey were running late. How late? The red Cartier box on her dresser held the answer.
Zipping up her skirt, she approached the box carefully, as if it were rigged to explode.
What was she so afraid of? Lindsey already knew about it. Its tangibility made her unable to lie -- about who it came from, that is; not the manner in which it was received. 'Your father's butler stopped by with my paycheck,' was the spin she chose, as opposed to 'Your dad dropped this off and came inside me.'
Lindsey's reaction was typically stoic: he made a wisecrack about what Spike might give her if she worked for a week, and then he asked her where she wanted to go, Runyon or the beach? He didn't like to talk about his father, and Buffy was so very fine with that.
The rest of their Sunday ticked by like any other -- outdoor fun, brunch, movie, sex -- in this case, sex that stretched into a five hour 'athon. Which, she told herself, was inspired solely by her deep attraction to her husband, FYI -- not by guilt, or by Spike's shocking visit, or the things Spike said, or his casual daywear... Only one orgasm was achieved by closing her eyes and thinking of Paris. The rest might have involved flashes of the airplane, the limo, the coats, the cashmere, and his face pressed between her legs... but those were just flashes. Lindsey totally did it for her. To. tal. ly.
Remembering to breathe, she opened the box.
It glittered and flared in the sun. She ran her fingertips over its face, the rough and smooth surface, and found herself clasping it on. It was amazingly comfy; moreso than any watch she'd worn, so soft on her skin, so... sparkly--
"Caught."
Buffy jumped, and quickly unclasped it. "God!" Lindsey was back with the dog already. "I didn't hear you come home."
"How could you, over the Jesus choir?"
"The Jesus huh?"
"The sound when all that bling catches the light." He demonstrated, arms rising to the heavens, "'Ahhhhhhhh!'"
"Funny. I wasn't admiring it, okay?" She put it back into its box. "I was just checking the time."
"What time is it?"
Well, shit. She forgot to look. "It... is time to go, young man. Are you ready yet?"
"You can keep it, you know."
"What? The watch? That's crazytalk. It's a waste of thirty grand. You said it yourself, I could feed a third world nation with that thing."
"Yeah, but if you like it so much--"
"I don't like it!"
He smiled as he turned to leave. "Could've fooled me."
Following him out, she insisted, "I don't!"
* * *
"Do you like it, baby?"
Buffy sighed. Her first incoming call of the day: Spike, picking up exactly where he left off, as per usual. Did he ever start a conversation with hello?
"Know what I like? When you don't call me." She covered her mouth to add, "Especially at work." Lindsey was out of the office, but she still had to watch her volume.
"You left me no choice," Spike pouted. "Didn't answer your cell."
"Because I don't wanna talk to you!"
"No?" His voice dipped to a murmur. "What do you wanna do to me?"
Eyes closing, she said, "I wanna hang up on you."
"Now, now," he said with a chuckle, most likely with his hands behind his head and his feet up on his desk. "In a minute. First, tell me what you're wearing." Or, maybe he was in his bed, naked. It was hard to say.
"Not your watch," she said proudly.
"It's your watch, pet, not mine."
"Actually, it's neither. It now belongs to a very nice homeless man."
He gasped melodramatically. "You didn't."
She didn't. "And what if I did?"
"Well, I'd have to change my passcode..."
"Your passcode?"
"The inscription. I was gonna tell you about it... Oh well, too late now."
"What inscription?" She fished the box out of her purse and saw a tiny set of numbers on the back. "What is this?"
"So you do like it." Not getting an answer, he said, "What do you think it is?"
"I'm gonna say coordinates of the Holy Grail, or the number of the Swiss bank account I'll be taking the fall for. Or ooh, maybe both."
"Not quite," he said snidely. "Left side is the code for my gate. The other's the security override for the main house, only it's backwards. ...One of them is backwards -- I have to look at it."
She shut the box, scanned her surroundings and said with forced civility, "I'm gonna call you right back."
* * *
"You gave me a key to your place?" Buffy said, now that she was up on the roof and could properly convey her indignation.
"Yeah, guess I did. Seems a bit tacky to make you wait for clearance, yeah? Now you can drop in whenever you like."
"Gosh, I don't know what to say. This is such a big step forward in our non-relationship."
"Is it too soon? I wasn't sure."
"Did you hear me? Non-relationship! Non, as in not having one!"
"Right," he said, as if he understood. "I want to take you out Thursday night."
"Oh my god!" She threw her hands up. "Listen to me, very carefully. We are not dating. I am your daughter-in-law. We cannot 'go out'!"
"Fine. We'll stay in then."
"No! First of all, and I shouldn't have to tell you this, Thursday is Lindsey's birthday. Therefore, I will be going out with him. You can do anything you want, as long as it doesn't involve me."
"You'll miss me by then. Unless he's found your spot?"
Not even after she told him to keep his hand there. "This conversation is over. Do you hear me? O. Ver."
"I love your accent. It's so... plucky."
"My--?" She stopped pacing. "I don't have the accent. You have the accent."
"You do know we had it first. The English language?"
She sighed. "I'm hanging up now."
"Thursday. Think about it."
"I already have, you--" There was a muddled loudspeaker noise on his end. "Where are you?"
"On my plane."
"Oh." This made her feel inexplicably abandoned. "Where are you going?"
"Brazil. Wanna come?"
Yes. "No." Maybe. She'd always wanted to go to Brazil. But not with him. "I have this thing called a job, with actual responsibilities..."
"Just think, if you worked for me, you could see the whole--"
"Never. Goodbye."
"Bye, love. I'm glad you like it."
She pushed the off button, ran a hand through her hair... and had the distinct sensation of being watched.
Buffy had never noticed how close the back of her office building's roof was to the towering Wolfram Hart high rise. And wouldn't you know it, Lilah was standing in a window two floors above her.
Before their eyes met, Lilah turned away, mouth moving, and Buffy remembered that Lindsey's meeting was there.
"Fuck me," she whispered, opening the roof access door.
* * *
"Hey," Lindsey stopped her after she'd wrapped up a client interview. "Got a second?"
"Uh-huh," Buffy said, smile belying her fear. "What's up?"
"Work stuff," he said with a cryptic wink.
She followed him to his office, telling herself that Lilah couldn't have heard her, and even if she could read lips, which was unlikely, Buffy had been pacing so frantically that no one could possibly thread it together--
Lindsey shut the door. Buffy swallowed.
"I don't know how you did it," Lindsey picked up an envelope and waved it at her. "But I fucking love you."
"W...?" She blinked. "How I did...?"
"Lakers tickets? This Thursday? Loge center seats? I wanna marry you all over again." Pulling her close, he kissed her lips. "Best birthday present I ever got."
Birthday present. Thursday.
Suddenly it all became very clear. Still smiling, she said, "Can I see?"
He gave her the envelope. "I gotta bring Charles. That's okay with you, right, if we do dinner on Friday instead?"
The stub that came with the messengered tickets included a computerized note: For you and a lucky friend. Happy birthday, baby. All my love, Buffy. "Of course. Yeah. Friday."
She knew she shouldn't be so shocked. The omnipotent Spike Pratt was back at the chess board again, doing what he did best. He knew that Lindsey wouldn't change his birthday plans unless the tickets were from her. He knew to get seats she could afford. And he knew she wouldn't deny it once she figured it out. He knew everything, except this: she was going MIA that night.
Back at her desk, she mass-texted every woman she knew in the greater Los Angeles area: Girls nite out Thurs?
Being pushed around in bed was one thing. Extending it to her life was another.
If Buffy Summers was having an affair, she would be calling the shots.
Read on... >>
P.S. I can has commentz nao pleez also? yai
A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.
@темы: Сперто. Без суда и следствия., spuffy, Spike, Buffy&Angel, Art, Crave, NautiBitz, Buffy, fanfiction