Prompt 92

[tigerstriped86.livejournal.com]

Title: Peanut Butter Center
Author: tigerstriped86
Fandom: Buffy, Tara/Spike friendship
Summary: Tara babysits "chipped" Spike.  Philosophical debate (and television) ensues.

Rating: Teen (for a Smurfs reference and some language)
Gen. Disclaimers: If I were Joss Whedon, what in the devil would I be doing at livejournal?  Furthermore, if I were James Marsters or Tara, what would I be doing at livejournal?   Let's pretend then we've established I'm not any of the aforementioned.  Plus, if I were Rift!Spike, I'd be snogging Capt. Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones by now anyways.  Wait.  Did I say that aloud?

Disc. 2:   Creator's Note: Why is it when I first think of the word center, I think of Reese's Cups? I blame Troy. It's all his fault. Courtesy of tamingthemuse, this week's prompt is center. I promptly churned out a very cute, very unlike-me one shot featuring our favorite good witch and blonde vampire. I think the setting is S4, Xander still in the basement (the closet wasn't big enough) and Spike is chipper, I mean chipped. Enjoy!

“Stop acting so childish, Spike. You know we have to babysit you. It's for your own good.” Tara smiled a bit and sat on Xander's couch in his slightly drafty basement one Sunday evening. Her hands were clamped firmly around a cup of chamomile tea with a bit of honey and lemon. She was the only person brave enough to face Spike in a sour mood without sarcasm. Truth be told, she didn't bat an eyelash. Now Willow angry, that was fairly frightening.

“Fine Glinda, but we play by my rules.”

“I wouldn't agree if I didn't know you were chipped.”

“That's a good witch of the North. Now, since we're assuming I'm a sodding twelve year old, I'm going to whine until we get to watch Passions.”

“I don't see why you would have to whine.” Tara shrugged her shoulders and turned Xander's television on, a flickering groan accompanying the click of the remote control.

“Bloody whelp! He messed with my tint again!” Spike raised his fist in simmering anger, knowing very well he couldn't do much about it but simmer.

Tara giggled. “I've never seen the Smurfs in purple before.”

“That's the color they turn when they're choked you know,” Spike said, feigning a serious voice.

“Oh stop. I'm sure we'll be able to find Passions on somewhere. It's quite a popular show.”

“Ever since the book came out everyone thought they'd jump on the band wagon. Bloody posers.” Spike went to light a cigarette. Tara watched with mild interest as each match failed to strike.

“Some people would call you a poser.”

“Is that before or after I tore their arms out and beat their bleeding brains out with them?”

“Probably before,” she stated, not even batting an eyelash.

“Billy Idol stole his look from me.”

“Because, I'm sure, Billy Idol had nothing better to do than stalk vampires emigrating from Europe.”

“All I'm saying is he stole me look. Turn the channel, Glinda! Are you off your bleeding rocker?”

“Awww, but the sheep jumping over a fence? You don't think that's cute?” Tara hugged the pillow across her stomach and made a slightly mushy face.

“Cute in a way that makes me want to vomit up my blood and Weetabix, if that's what you mean by cute.”

“Not quite. How about this?”

“You're turning into Xander. MIGHTY MOUSE IS NOT PASSIONS!”

“Okay, okay Spike. No need to shout. I'll change the channel. Oh, I'd best write that down. I need to get some of those.”

“You need Wonder bread?”

“That's the only way I'll eat my peanut butter and jelly anymore. I'm very meticulous.”

Spike gave her a crest-fallen look while his voice cracked. “I'll bet.”

“Let's be friends, Spike. We can have girl time and watch QVC.”

“Oh, kill me now.”

“Just kidding. See, I could kill you if I wanted? Here. Oh gosh, now I'm hungry. Did you ever eat chocolate Spike?”

“By the time I became a vampire, the only chocolate we had was for nobles. I'd like to think if I drank Xander's blood I could taste it, the whelp consumes it like it's going to fall off the face of the Earth.”

Tara made a disgusted face and wrinkled her nose. “Let's not talk about your eating habits.”

“Too honest for you? This is who I am, like it or not. A bloke's gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but you could eat pleasant things.”

“What? Like the bleeding Dracula in the Reese's Cups commercial?”

“You don't find that endearing at all?”

“I don't know anyone with fangs bloody small enough to do that.”

“You've never tried, even once?”

“Promise it won't leave this room?”

Tara leaned in conspiratorially. “I swear.”

“I did once, a few Halloweens back, to try and cheer up Angel. I spent a good week wiping peanut butter from my chin.”

Tara snorted, imagining Angel's face. I mean, from the Angel's she had seen in pictures and the stories. She thought someday it would be nice to meet him.

“The only one I ever had luck with was Oreos.”

“You sucked the center out of an Oreo?”

“No. It was still Halloween and I had taken a bag of those lovely orange creme ones from some random grocery store and proceeded to eat out the center of all of them, leaving the cookies as a gag gift for Angel.”

“All that for a joke?”

“I was sick for a week, but man was it worth it.”

“I won't even ask about Tootsie Pops.”

“They don't really have centers, love.”

“They do if you believe turtles and owls.”