(no subject)
Some SERIOUS drabble Spuffy style. I don't even know if this is any good.
I'm like... I just needed to write them.
He always left the door open when he showered. At first she had taken this as an invitation, which it was, one which she RSVPed to quite regularly. But eventually, at times, it was more of a nuisance. The stream would pour out into the room making everything moist and damp. It also made everything absurdly warm, which was nice in the winter but frustrating in the summer. The AC almost always worked over-time, straining itself to do battle with the shower. Of course, the more she turned the AC down to combat this peculiar need, he would holler out to her. "Oi! It's bloody cold in here!"
There were times when he annoyed her greatly.
"Well it's hot out here!" She poked her head into the bathroom, eyes straining through the fog of a shower that was always absurdly hot. His head, covered in shampoo, peeked out from behind the shower curtain. She rolled her eyes. "You could shut the door, you know."
And he growled at her in a way that always turned her on, though she never admitted it. "I don't like it shut."
"Well then you're just going to have to deal with it!"
And he climbed out of the shower.
- - - -
She always left her cereal bowl out. It sat there, soggy chunks of wheat or occasionally fruity pebbles floating in the remains of far too much milk. He'd come into the kitchen and there it would sit. She'd have gone off to work and just left it sitting there. For awhile, he had thought it was slight revenge for his less-than-stellar house-keeping. Moving in together had just sort of happened, and figuring out each other's nitches and quirks was surprising. He thought he had known everything there was to know about her. Clearly he was wrong.
So he started making extra certain to rinse out his mug of blood ("It STAINS. Do you have any idea how hard that stuff is to get out?" "I do, actually, having drank it for the last, oh, hundred years.") He made sure to take off his muddy shoes before crossing from the door to the bathroom. He made every effort to keep his papers from getting too scattered across the kitchen table.
But the cereal bowls remained.
And it wasn't just the cereal bowl, either: it was cereal in general. Something about her and cereal just did not compute. The box was always left open on the counter, and she never put empty boxes in the trash. She'd just crumple up the paper, seal the box shut, and he here would come, expecting some nice Wheetabix to go with his morning blood, and they would be all out. She wouldn't even have put it on the grocery list. So he would go out. And get the cereal. And everything else he could think of. But the process would just repeat itself.
"You left your cereal bowl out again."
"Oh, I did?" Her eyes were wide, surprised. So very innocent. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, you did. Can you please not do that?"
Her mouth closed in on itself, and she pulled a face. "Yeah, ok, of course."
And he nodded, hoping that this would be the last time he'd have to say it and knowing that it wasn't, when he heard her mumble under her breath, "Have a cow already."
He spun around, throat working furiously. "Don't mind if I do!"
- - - -
Three vampires and a demon, all in one go at the same place. She was on the left, tackling two of the undead, and he was twenty yards away on the right, ungainly kicking at one and holding the other in a head lock.
"You know, it wouldn't bother me so much if you didn't ALWAYS DO IT," she yelled across to him. The ginger vampire in front of her lunged around, taking her slightly by surprise. She ducked and rolled, but not before being kicked soundly in the side by the second.
"Do WHAT, exactly?" The demon had his legs, which was most unfortunate as this seemed to be lifting him horizontal to the ground. The vampire in the crook of his arm whipped backward, throwing him face-down into the grass below him and forcing him to relinquish his grip.
"JUST CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR. How hard is it?" She had righted herself and kicked, sending the brunette soaring backwards into a gravestone.
"HOW'S about YOU putting the bloody bowl into the bloody dishwasher!" He kicked his right leg back, freeing himself from the demon's grasp, and was able to flip himself upright again, facing his assailants both head on. He glanced to the side and saw her suddenly caught, arms pinned to her sides, with the brunette roaring at her. He rushed to her. "Every bloody time I wake up it's just sitting there, smiling at me, saying 'Good Morning Spike!'--"
She instead kicked her feet straight out, sending the vampire flying back again. "Steam just pours out--POURS OUT." With a tuck and a roll, she flipped the ginger over her back. "--There's gonna be MILDEW growing on our bedroom wall for crying out--"
Turning a sudden about face, he caught his vampire straight in the heart with a stake. Dust covering his face, he couldn't see the demon coming until--"Ooof!"--he was flat on his back.
She saw him fall and ran towards him, knocking out her fists to either side to fall the vampires that pursued her. In their daze she slew them in quick succession, running and latching her arms around the demon's neck. "I don't think I'm asking that much of you, Spike!"
He bunched his legs up and kicked the demon in the chest, propelling it and she off and up. Pulling his knife out from his belt, he swung from the right as she swung to the left. "It's disgusting. If I didn't pick it up what would bloody happen to it--" Their knives collided together in the demons neck, and his head rolled cleanly away. "I swear, Buffy, you would grow generations of bacteria were it not for me--"
She stepped over the carcass into his face. "Do you know how much the electric costs because of you?"
"I clean up my bloody mug and everything--"
"I take a shower with the door closed, why can't you--"
"Just put it in the sink, even, with water--"
"And you take such LONG showers too, I don't understand how you--"
"And the box! The damn box is just sitting there--"
"I mean seriously how long does it take you to get clean?--"
"We're going to get bugs if you keep this up--"
"Well if you would just--"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"FINE."
- - - -
They stared at each other, panting and sweating, covered in sweat and dust and blood;
They stared at each other across a tile floor, shampoo dripping down his face and water pooling at his feet;
The stared at each other across the kitchen table, newspapers scattered between them.
Their lips met like fire; their hands came together; their eyes dropped to the ground.
Roughly pushing and shoving and pulling and needing in a nearby crypt; Sighing and collecting themselves to apologize; Looking back up and somehow, laughter.
Laughter; laughter; laughter.
I'm like... I just needed to write them.
He always left the door open when he showered. At first she had taken this as an invitation, which it was, one which she RSVPed to quite regularly. But eventually, at times, it was more of a nuisance. The stream would pour out into the room making everything moist and damp. It also made everything absurdly warm, which was nice in the winter but frustrating in the summer. The AC almost always worked over-time, straining itself to do battle with the shower. Of course, the more she turned the AC down to combat this peculiar need, he would holler out to her. "Oi! It's bloody cold in here!"
There were times when he annoyed her greatly.
"Well it's hot out here!" She poked her head into the bathroom, eyes straining through the fog of a shower that was always absurdly hot. His head, covered in shampoo, peeked out from behind the shower curtain. She rolled her eyes. "You could shut the door, you know."
And he growled at her in a way that always turned her on, though she never admitted it. "I don't like it shut."
"Well then you're just going to have to deal with it!"
And he climbed out of the shower.
- - - -
She always left her cereal bowl out. It sat there, soggy chunks of wheat or occasionally fruity pebbles floating in the remains of far too much milk. He'd come into the kitchen and there it would sit. She'd have gone off to work and just left it sitting there. For awhile, he had thought it was slight revenge for his less-than-stellar house-keeping. Moving in together had just sort of happened, and figuring out each other's nitches and quirks was surprising. He thought he had known everything there was to know about her. Clearly he was wrong.
So he started making extra certain to rinse out his mug of blood ("It STAINS. Do you have any idea how hard that stuff is to get out?" "I do, actually, having drank it for the last, oh, hundred years.") He made sure to take off his muddy shoes before crossing from the door to the bathroom. He made every effort to keep his papers from getting too scattered across the kitchen table.
But the cereal bowls remained.
And it wasn't just the cereal bowl, either: it was cereal in general. Something about her and cereal just did not compute. The box was always left open on the counter, and she never put empty boxes in the trash. She'd just crumple up the paper, seal the box shut, and he here would come, expecting some nice Wheetabix to go with his morning blood, and they would be all out. She wouldn't even have put it on the grocery list. So he would go out. And get the cereal. And everything else he could think of. But the process would just repeat itself.
"You left your cereal bowl out again."
"Oh, I did?" Her eyes were wide, surprised. So very innocent. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, you did. Can you please not do that?"
Her mouth closed in on itself, and she pulled a face. "Yeah, ok, of course."
And he nodded, hoping that this would be the last time he'd have to say it and knowing that it wasn't, when he heard her mumble under her breath, "Have a cow already."
He spun around, throat working furiously. "Don't mind if I do!"
- - - -
Three vampires and a demon, all in one go at the same place. She was on the left, tackling two of the undead, and he was twenty yards away on the right, ungainly kicking at one and holding the other in a head lock.
"You know, it wouldn't bother me so much if you didn't ALWAYS DO IT," she yelled across to him. The ginger vampire in front of her lunged around, taking her slightly by surprise. She ducked and rolled, but not before being kicked soundly in the side by the second.
"Do WHAT, exactly?" The demon had his legs, which was most unfortunate as this seemed to be lifting him horizontal to the ground. The vampire in the crook of his arm whipped backward, throwing him face-down into the grass below him and forcing him to relinquish his grip.
"JUST CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR. How hard is it?" She had righted herself and kicked, sending the brunette soaring backwards into a gravestone.
"HOW'S about YOU putting the bloody bowl into the bloody dishwasher!" He kicked his right leg back, freeing himself from the demon's grasp, and was able to flip himself upright again, facing his assailants both head on. He glanced to the side and saw her suddenly caught, arms pinned to her sides, with the brunette roaring at her. He rushed to her. "Every bloody time I wake up it's just sitting there, smiling at me, saying 'Good Morning Spike!'--"
She instead kicked her feet straight out, sending the vampire flying back again. "Steam just pours out--POURS OUT." With a tuck and a roll, she flipped the ginger over her back. "--There's gonna be MILDEW growing on our bedroom wall for crying out--"
Turning a sudden about face, he caught his vampire straight in the heart with a stake. Dust covering his face, he couldn't see the demon coming until--"Ooof!"--he was flat on his back.
She saw him fall and ran towards him, knocking out her fists to either side to fall the vampires that pursued her. In their daze she slew them in quick succession, running and latching her arms around the demon's neck. "I don't think I'm asking that much of you, Spike!"
He bunched his legs up and kicked the demon in the chest, propelling it and she off and up. Pulling his knife out from his belt, he swung from the right as she swung to the left. "It's disgusting. If I didn't pick it up what would bloody happen to it--" Their knives collided together in the demons neck, and his head rolled cleanly away. "I swear, Buffy, you would grow generations of bacteria were it not for me--"
She stepped over the carcass into his face. "Do you know how much the electric costs because of you?"
"I clean up my bloody mug and everything--"
"I take a shower with the door closed, why can't you--"
"Just put it in the sink, even, with water--"
"And you take such LONG showers too, I don't understand how you--"
"And the box! The damn box is just sitting there--"
"I mean seriously how long does it take you to get clean?--"
"We're going to get bugs if you keep this up--"
"Well if you would just--"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"FINE."
- - - -
They stared at each other, panting and sweating, covered in sweat and dust and blood;
They stared at each other across a tile floor, shampoo dripping down his face and water pooling at his feet;
The stared at each other across the kitchen table, newspapers scattered between them.
Their lips met like fire; their hands came together; their eyes dropped to the ground.
Roughly pushing and shoving and pulling and needing in a nearby crypt; Sighing and collecting themselves to apologize; Looking back up and somehow, laughter.
Laughter; laughter; laughter.