Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Summary: Thinking, or not.
Spoilers: S6, around Tabula Rasa/Smashed/Wrecked.
Archive: My site, otherwise ask.
Soundtrack: Portishead.
It’s bright outside today; he can’t sleep. He’s restless. He wants to get out of there, he wants to hit something. Hard. But he’s stuck.
He thinks of her. Her smile (which he rarely sees). Her laugh (which is never for him). Her hair (which she doesn’t like him to touch). Her lips (which he can still taste, barely, and only if he concentrates). Her thinks of her now. He thinks of her always.
She doesn’t think of him. His eyes (which are dark and warm, even if he isn’t). His voice (which makes her shiver sometimes, when she hears it). His hands (which tremble when he touches her). His lips (which touched hers so softly, so roughly, so rarely). She doesn’t think of him now. She can’t. She won’t.
It’s dark already, but she’s not in the mood to leave. She’s listless. She wants to stay inside tonight, she wants to sleep and not dream of him. At all. But she can’t.
All he wants is to remember.
All she wants is to forget.
But that won’t happen. At least, not tonight.
End
1/2/2002