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snoggedI'm pleased to bring you the latest chapter of Self-Destruct Button. Enjoy!
Title: Self-Destruct Button (7/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and many other corporations own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1736
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually)
Setting: Buffy – Post “Chosen”/Angel – set shortly after “Damage.”
Summary: Willow gets a party invitation from a certain warlock in Los Angeles.
Beta(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angelskuuipo and purplefeen. All other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Written forrua1412 who inspired me with her gorgeous artwork.
Banner byrua1412
As the metallic mouth of the curling iron clamped down on her hair, Willow sucked in a shaky breath and squinted at the mirror. It was wiggins-worthy enough that Harmony was the one holding a red-hot rod next to her scalp, but it didn’t help matters that she was sitting in front of the large oval mirror in Lorne’s dressing room/office. No matter how many times she saw it in action, Harmony's lack of reflection on a glassy surface was enough to make her flinch.
“If you don’t stop wiggling, I will bite you,” Harmony hissed, her lips centimeters from Willow’s ear. “Prom-perfect hair doesn’t just magically happen.”
“It could,” Willow murmured, grateful for the cross in her lap.
Hair-care magic was totally something in her repertoire. There were several spells she’d discovered through the years that claimed to replicate the precise waves created by a curling iron. However, the last time she’d tried one, she’d inadvertently set her hair on fire. It wasn’t like it had been a big fire, and she had put it out before the spell could do more than singe her ends, but it had been enough to scare her out of trying it again. Besides, it was a lot easier to alter clothes, so why not stick with the tried and true?
Before Willow could get too lost in her thoughts, Harmony released the iron, allowing a perfect spiral of hair to fall against Willow’s cheek. “I’ve still got it!”
Willow had to admit she was a little impressed. It was unfortunate that Harmony would never get to share her talents with the rest of the world. Vampires didn’t exactly make successful hair stylists. “You sure do, Harm.”
“It’s a shame you’re all gay and stuff. I bet Spikey would….”
“Stop,” Willow interrupted, not wanting a repeat of Harmony’s vacuous attempts to cheer her up. Even two days later, Harmony’s kite-string comment still rubbed her the wrong way.
“What? I was just going to say that you’re gorgeous,” Harmony pouted, lifting up another segment of Willow’s hair and wrapping it around the roller. “Well, not to me personally. But Blondie-bear would totally think so. And you know, it’s not like I’m wrong about this; you guys were totally snuggly in his hospital bed the other day and why he asked to be discharged like immediately after Fred came in to take you to her place.”
“We’re friends,” Willow replied, an unexpected edginess to her tone as she felt another well-executed curl fall back into place. “Spike is….”
Spike is what exactly, Rosenberg? Signing on to be your date for a freaking ball the moment after your girlfriend dumps you? Making jokes about you stroking his ego? Holding you when you cry? Staying with you and watching the sun set?
Willow scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, feeling awash with confusion. To the casual Scooby observer, Spike’s actions thus far had been admirable. He seemed eager to show her that he was still a champion sworn to serve the side of good, despite the traumas he had faced. He seemed willing to protect her from any potential dangers that might come hand-in-hand with Vail’s gathering. But…he hadn’t really talked about Buffy; at least, not in a context belying a man who once loved her. So what exactly did that mean?
Willow shifted in her seat. The possibility of Spike liking her in any way other than friendship made her feel a little uncomfortable. Sure he was attractive and those eyes of his were…but she was gay now…and that…really wasn’t going so well. Kennedy had dumped her and Tara was….
“What did I tell you about the wiggling?” Harmony warned, releasing her grip on the curler. “You’re going to screw this up.”
Willow winced slightly at the sizzling sound that crackled through the air and in the glass she could see the burning-hot rod was now centimeters from her cheek. Harmony’s threats didn’t stop her from picking the cross up from her lap and whirling around – away from the curling iron, of course - to face Harmony.
Harmony snarled, her features morphing from human to demon as the cross neared the former cheerleader’s flawless face. “Hey!”
“No biting,” Willow replied firmly.
“No wiggling. Just because I’m a secretary now doesn’t make me any less evil.” Harmony said, shaking her head and retracting her fangs.
Begrudgingly, Willow turned back around to face the mirror, determined not to think about what Spike’s true motives for helping her might be. It was much better to just stick to the champion thing. It made the most sense, didn’t it?
“You know, there’s only like one more left and then you can finish getting ready for your stupid ball while I suck on otter blood and answer Angel’s stupid phone.”
“I’m sure it won’t be so bad,” Willow offered, trying to placate her.
The attempt didn’t really work, but true to her word, Harmony rolled up one more section of hair and Willow felt it land right on top of her ear. Then Harmony unplugged the curling iron from the wall with a strength that made several pieces of dry wall crumble instantly.
“Oops,” Harmony replied hurriedly, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Gotta go. Lorne will kill me for that.”
In a flash, Harmony left the room, leaving Willow to defend herself in the event that Lorne returned to check on her.
Thankfully, luck was on her side and no one came in to see her change.
Willow rose to her feet and walked over to the door where the dress hung and smoothly peeled off her pants. Once she’d wriggled out of those, she popped open the buttons on her shirt and slid it down her shoulders. With a deep breath, she carefully removed the dress from its hanger and gently slid her arms under the thin straps. A few well-chosen words in Latin permitted the dress to stretch without tearing it as the satin-weave slid over her skin and molded to her frame.
“Looks like it’s one size fits all.” Willow giggled to herself, thinking of the haughty shopkeeper as she smoothed out a stray wrinkle with her palm.
With great care, she sat back down and slid her feet into the white satin pumps that Harmony was permitting her to borrow since Fred’s feet were a size and a half larger than her own.
Once her feet were snug and secure, she glanced back at her reflection and an audible gasp left her lips. Not even her prom dress could hold a candle to this one. She felt elegant and beautiful, like an old-fashioned movie star. It was a feeling she hoped to cling to for a long time. She just hoped it wouldn’t be spoiled by getting demon guts all over it or something else equally as horrible.
After a few moments, Willow gathered herself and headed out the door and down the hallway. She knew the others were waiting for her in the lobby. Angel had insisted on running a strategy plan with them before they departed and Fred hadn’t yet come forward with the results of the amulet testing, though she had been in the lab practically all night running it through her specialized gamut of experiments.
Once she reached the platform at the top of the staircase, though, she felt like she was starring in her own cliché. At the very bottom of the stairs was Spike, dressed to the nines in a custom-fitted tuxedo, complete with the coat tails he'd promised. Beside him stood Fred who was holding a black velvet rectangle in her hands. Behind them stood Angel, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed, and Wesley and Gunn who peered up at her with smiles twitching in the corners of their lips.
“Beautiful,” Spike mouthed, the subtle movement of his mouth bringing her attention back to him.
“Not so bad yourself,” Willow mouthed back, feeling very aware of the skips her heartbeat was making as she descended the stairs. Her current preference for women not withstanding, she had to admit that Spike looked incredible. In some ways, the look suited him more than the duster and black pants that had always marked him as a Big Bad. It made him look more…human.
“The necklace passed the tests!” Fred exclaimed, shoving the box into Willow’s hands the moment she reached the group. “Do you want to me to…?”
Willow shook her head, popping the lock on the small case. The necklace didn’t seem quite so foreboding now that Eve wasn’t around to accessorize it with her malicious looks.
Before she could reach in to grab it, she saw Spike’s fingers slip in there to retrieve the chain. Seeing the necklace in Spike’s hands, after there had been so much fear in his eyes the day before, gave Willow pause. It was a huge step for Spike to approve something like this and she didn’t question it when he stepped into her personal space and clipped the clasp around her neck.
“My research shows this necklace will come in very handy,” Wesley replied. “If there’s troubling demonic activity at the party, a buzzer behind Angel’s desk will sound.”
“It’s an immediate alert system?” Willow asked, touching the charm with her fingers. Although she’d asked it as a question, she felt certain that was what the answer was. It was pretty darn obvious.
“Precisely,” Wesley replied.
“Don’t let her get killed, Spike,” Angel said gruffly, shooting a death glare at his grand-childe.
“Aww, you just don’t want your beauty rest interrupted by a damn fire alarm,” Spike retorted, cocking his hip. “Not gonna need you anyway. Willow and I…we’re big guns. Folks will be more ‘fraid of us than we are of them. Plus, we’re taking the Viper so you’ll be with us in spirit.”
“Spike,” Angel warned, gritting his teeth. Willow couldn’t help but notice that the tendons in his shoulders seemed more noticeably bulgy. He was definitely looking like he wanted to sock Spike in the jaw.
“What Angel means to say is best of luck to you both,” Wesley interjected hurriedly, briefly touching Angel’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” Willow said.
“And with that pesky bloody fanfare out of the way, we’ll be off,” Spike said, smirking as he offered Willow his arm, which she took with a bemused smile, and he steered her toward the front doors and out into the night.
Showtime.
Chapter 8
Title: Self-Destruct Button (7/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and many other corporations own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1736
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually)
Setting: Buffy – Post “Chosen”/Angel – set shortly after “Damage.”
Summary: Willow gets a party invitation from a certain warlock in Los Angeles.
Beta(s):
angelskuuipo and purplefeen. All other mistakes are mine.A/N: Written for
rua1412 who inspired me with her gorgeous artwork.Banner by
rua1412As the metallic mouth of the curling iron clamped down on her hair, Willow sucked in a shaky breath and squinted at the mirror. It was wiggins-worthy enough that Harmony was the one holding a red-hot rod next to her scalp, but it didn’t help matters that she was sitting in front of the large oval mirror in Lorne’s dressing room/office. No matter how many times she saw it in action, Harmony's lack of reflection on a glassy surface was enough to make her flinch.
“If you don’t stop wiggling, I will bite you,” Harmony hissed, her lips centimeters from Willow’s ear. “Prom-perfect hair doesn’t just magically happen.”
“It could,” Willow murmured, grateful for the cross in her lap.
Hair-care magic was totally something in her repertoire. There were several spells she’d discovered through the years that claimed to replicate the precise waves created by a curling iron. However, the last time she’d tried one, she’d inadvertently set her hair on fire. It wasn’t like it had been a big fire, and she had put it out before the spell could do more than singe her ends, but it had been enough to scare her out of trying it again. Besides, it was a lot easier to alter clothes, so why not stick with the tried and true?
Before Willow could get too lost in her thoughts, Harmony released the iron, allowing a perfect spiral of hair to fall against Willow’s cheek. “I’ve still got it!”
Willow had to admit she was a little impressed. It was unfortunate that Harmony would never get to share her talents with the rest of the world. Vampires didn’t exactly make successful hair stylists. “You sure do, Harm.”
“It’s a shame you’re all gay and stuff. I bet Spikey would….”
“Stop,” Willow interrupted, not wanting a repeat of Harmony’s vacuous attempts to cheer her up. Even two days later, Harmony’s kite-string comment still rubbed her the wrong way.
“What? I was just going to say that you’re gorgeous,” Harmony pouted, lifting up another segment of Willow’s hair and wrapping it around the roller. “Well, not to me personally. But Blondie-bear would totally think so. And you know, it’s not like I’m wrong about this; you guys were totally snuggly in his hospital bed the other day and why he asked to be discharged like immediately after Fred came in to take you to her place.”
“We’re friends,” Willow replied, an unexpected edginess to her tone as she felt another well-executed curl fall back into place. “Spike is….”
Spike is what exactly, Rosenberg? Signing on to be your date for a freaking ball the moment after your girlfriend dumps you? Making jokes about you stroking his ego? Holding you when you cry? Staying with you and watching the sun set?
Willow scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, feeling awash with confusion. To the casual Scooby observer, Spike’s actions thus far had been admirable. He seemed eager to show her that he was still a champion sworn to serve the side of good, despite the traumas he had faced. He seemed willing to protect her from any potential dangers that might come hand-in-hand with Vail’s gathering. But…he hadn’t really talked about Buffy; at least, not in a context belying a man who once loved her. So what exactly did that mean?
Willow shifted in her seat. The possibility of Spike liking her in any way other than friendship made her feel a little uncomfortable. Sure he was attractive and those eyes of his were…but she was gay now…and that…really wasn’t going so well. Kennedy had dumped her and Tara was….
“What did I tell you about the wiggling?” Harmony warned, releasing her grip on the curler. “You’re going to screw this up.”
Willow winced slightly at the sizzling sound that crackled through the air and in the glass she could see the burning-hot rod was now centimeters from her cheek. Harmony’s threats didn’t stop her from picking the cross up from her lap and whirling around – away from the curling iron, of course - to face Harmony.
Harmony snarled, her features morphing from human to demon as the cross neared the former cheerleader’s flawless face. “Hey!”
“No biting,” Willow replied firmly.
“No wiggling. Just because I’m a secretary now doesn’t make me any less evil.” Harmony said, shaking her head and retracting her fangs.
Begrudgingly, Willow turned back around to face the mirror, determined not to think about what Spike’s true motives for helping her might be. It was much better to just stick to the champion thing. It made the most sense, didn’t it?
“You know, there’s only like one more left and then you can finish getting ready for your stupid ball while I suck on otter blood and answer Angel’s stupid phone.”
“I’m sure it won’t be so bad,” Willow offered, trying to placate her.
The attempt didn’t really work, but true to her word, Harmony rolled up one more section of hair and Willow felt it land right on top of her ear. Then Harmony unplugged the curling iron from the wall with a strength that made several pieces of dry wall crumble instantly.
“Oops,” Harmony replied hurriedly, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Gotta go. Lorne will kill me for that.”
In a flash, Harmony left the room, leaving Willow to defend herself in the event that Lorne returned to check on her.
Thankfully, luck was on her side and no one came in to see her change.
Willow rose to her feet and walked over to the door where the dress hung and smoothly peeled off her pants. Once she’d wriggled out of those, she popped open the buttons on her shirt and slid it down her shoulders. With a deep breath, she carefully removed the dress from its hanger and gently slid her arms under the thin straps. A few well-chosen words in Latin permitted the dress to stretch without tearing it as the satin-weave slid over her skin and molded to her frame.
“Looks like it’s one size fits all.” Willow giggled to herself, thinking of the haughty shopkeeper as she smoothed out a stray wrinkle with her palm.
With great care, she sat back down and slid her feet into the white satin pumps that Harmony was permitting her to borrow since Fred’s feet were a size and a half larger than her own.
Once her feet were snug and secure, she glanced back at her reflection and an audible gasp left her lips. Not even her prom dress could hold a candle to this one. She felt elegant and beautiful, like an old-fashioned movie star. It was a feeling she hoped to cling to for a long time. She just hoped it wouldn’t be spoiled by getting demon guts all over it or something else equally as horrible.
After a few moments, Willow gathered herself and headed out the door and down the hallway. She knew the others were waiting for her in the lobby. Angel had insisted on running a strategy plan with them before they departed and Fred hadn’t yet come forward with the results of the amulet testing, though she had been in the lab practically all night running it through her specialized gamut of experiments.
Once she reached the platform at the top of the staircase, though, she felt like she was starring in her own cliché. At the very bottom of the stairs was Spike, dressed to the nines in a custom-fitted tuxedo, complete with the coat tails he'd promised. Beside him stood Fred who was holding a black velvet rectangle in her hands. Behind them stood Angel, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed, and Wesley and Gunn who peered up at her with smiles twitching in the corners of their lips.
“Beautiful,” Spike mouthed, the subtle movement of his mouth bringing her attention back to him.
“Not so bad yourself,” Willow mouthed back, feeling very aware of the skips her heartbeat was making as she descended the stairs. Her current preference for women not withstanding, she had to admit that Spike looked incredible. In some ways, the look suited him more than the duster and black pants that had always marked him as a Big Bad. It made him look more…human.
“The necklace passed the tests!” Fred exclaimed, shoving the box into Willow’s hands the moment she reached the group. “Do you want to me to…?”
Willow shook her head, popping the lock on the small case. The necklace didn’t seem quite so foreboding now that Eve wasn’t around to accessorize it with her malicious looks.
Before she could reach in to grab it, she saw Spike’s fingers slip in there to retrieve the chain. Seeing the necklace in Spike’s hands, after there had been so much fear in his eyes the day before, gave Willow pause. It was a huge step for Spike to approve something like this and she didn’t question it when he stepped into her personal space and clipped the clasp around her neck.
“My research shows this necklace will come in very handy,” Wesley replied. “If there’s troubling demonic activity at the party, a buzzer behind Angel’s desk will sound.”
“It’s an immediate alert system?” Willow asked, touching the charm with her fingers. Although she’d asked it as a question, she felt certain that was what the answer was. It was pretty darn obvious.
“Precisely,” Wesley replied.
“Don’t let her get killed, Spike,” Angel said gruffly, shooting a death glare at his grand-childe.
“Aww, you just don’t want your beauty rest interrupted by a damn fire alarm,” Spike retorted, cocking his hip. “Not gonna need you anyway. Willow and I…we’re big guns. Folks will be more ‘fraid of us than we are of them. Plus, we’re taking the Viper so you’ll be with us in spirit.”
“Spike,” Angel warned, gritting his teeth. Willow couldn’t help but notice that the tendons in his shoulders seemed more noticeably bulgy. He was definitely looking like he wanted to sock Spike in the jaw.
“What Angel means to say is best of luck to you both,” Wesley interjected hurriedly, briefly touching Angel’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” Willow said.
“And with that pesky bloody fanfare out of the way, we’ll be off,” Spike said, smirking as he offered Willow his arm, which she took with a bemused smile, and he steered her toward the front doors and out into the night.
Showtime.
Chapter 8