Fic: Just Desserts
The third prompt fic. For some reason, a lot of these seem to be about food. *g*
Just Desserts
By Barb C
Disclaimers: The usual. All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, and naught to me.
Rating: PG
Pairing/characters: Buffy/Spike, Xander
Synopsis: Xander Harris for the defense, ladies and gentlemen.
Author’s notes: Written for evenstar_estel, who wanted cupcakes. The story takes place in the same universe as "Raising In the Sun," "Necessary Evils," and "A Parliament of Monsters." It's set in 2008, shortly after Spike learns that Buffy is pregnant with Connie.
OK, there's this popular delusion out there that Spike is a wee slender delicate slip of a man...vampire...whatever... and I by golly am here to debunk it. First off, five foot eight is not that goddamn short. It's only two inches shorter than I am, and I'm only an inch or two shy of six feet, so when you think about it, Spike is practically six feet tall. Second off - is that even a thing? Second off? never mind - Spike is not skinny, either. Sure, Spike has been skinny, since unlike the braves of Clan Harris, whose motto is "When the going gets tough, go for the doughnuts," Spike has this poetical Victorian idea that when you're moping about something, food and sleep become secondary considerations, unimportant to any but the coarsest of mortals. But in case you haven't noticed, it's been a good long while since Spike had much to mope about, and the fiend eats like a damn linebacker and works out like a...a fiend, and sure he probably burns four thousand calories a day on the fidgeting alone, but while 'compact' and 'well-muscled' still apply, 'skinny' does not, and you try hauling a hundred and seventy pounds of dead drunk and completely uncooperative vampire through a second-story window with two bum knees and see how goddamn sylph-like you think he is then.
And third off, when you finally get the ungrateful bastard inside and drag him down to his kitchen and try to pour enough pig's blood and coffee down his throat to sober him up before Buffy gets home, and you decide that your selfless efforts deserve a reward, and what better reward than one of the delicious pink-frosted cupcakes arranged invitingly on a platter, and the aforementioned bastard says, "There's chocolate ones in the fridge," and you are momentarily touched by this meet and proper sign of gratitude in a normally shriveled and Scroogelike heart, and you open the refrigerator, and reach in your hand, and take that glorious chocolate cupcake, and realize only after you have taken a huge bite that they are not in fact chocolate at all, no indeed, they are the special vampires-only, blood-in-the-batter-and-frosted-with-paté cupcakes, and you are spitting liver-flavored cupcake goo all over the floor while the vampire in question collapses in hysterical giggles, you realize without a shadow of a doubt that far from being tiny, Spike is quite possibly the BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN EXISTENCE.
Which is how the "I Ignite At Sunrise - Ask Me How!" came to be painted on his chest. But honestly? I have no idea how he ended up naked. He still had his pants on when I tied him to the oak tree.
Xander Harris for the defense, ladies and gentlemen. I rest my case. Now gimme a real cupcake.
END
Just Desserts
By Barb C
Disclaimers: The usual. All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, and naught to me.
Rating: PG
Pairing/characters: Buffy/Spike, Xander
Synopsis: Xander Harris for the defense, ladies and gentlemen.
Author’s notes: Written for evenstar_estel, who wanted cupcakes. The story takes place in the same universe as "Raising In the Sun," "Necessary Evils," and "A Parliament of Monsters." It's set in 2008, shortly after Spike learns that Buffy is pregnant with Connie.
OK, there's this popular delusion out there that Spike is a wee slender delicate slip of a man...vampire...whatever... and I by golly am here to debunk it. First off, five foot eight is not that goddamn short. It's only two inches shorter than I am, and I'm only an inch or two shy of six feet, so when you think about it, Spike is practically six feet tall. Second off - is that even a thing? Second off? never mind - Spike is not skinny, either. Sure, Spike has been skinny, since unlike the braves of Clan Harris, whose motto is "When the going gets tough, go for the doughnuts," Spike has this poetical Victorian idea that when you're moping about something, food and sleep become secondary considerations, unimportant to any but the coarsest of mortals. But in case you haven't noticed, it's been a good long while since Spike had much to mope about, and the fiend eats like a damn linebacker and works out like a...a fiend, and sure he probably burns four thousand calories a day on the fidgeting alone, but while 'compact' and 'well-muscled' still apply, 'skinny' does not, and you try hauling a hundred and seventy pounds of dead drunk and completely uncooperative vampire through a second-story window with two bum knees and see how goddamn sylph-like you think he is then.
And third off, when you finally get the ungrateful bastard inside and drag him down to his kitchen and try to pour enough pig's blood and coffee down his throat to sober him up before Buffy gets home, and you decide that your selfless efforts deserve a reward, and what better reward than one of the delicious pink-frosted cupcakes arranged invitingly on a platter, and the aforementioned bastard says, "There's chocolate ones in the fridge," and you are momentarily touched by this meet and proper sign of gratitude in a normally shriveled and Scroogelike heart, and you open the refrigerator, and reach in your hand, and take that glorious chocolate cupcake, and realize only after you have taken a huge bite that they are not in fact chocolate at all, no indeed, they are the special vampires-only, blood-in-the-batter-and-frosted-with-paté cupcakes, and you are spitting liver-flavored cupcake goo all over the floor while the vampire in question collapses in hysterical giggles, you realize without a shadow of a doubt that far from being tiny, Spike is quite possibly the BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN EXISTENCE.
Which is how the "I Ignite At Sunrise - Ask Me How!" came to be painted on his chest. But honestly? I have no idea how he ended up naked. He still had his pants on when I tied him to the oak tree.
Xander Harris for the defense, ladies and gentlemen. I rest my case. Now gimme a real cupcake.
END