skip the light fandango

For my beloved tinpanalley on her birthday. Happy Birthday Jess!

Title: Golden Girl
Author: Maren
Pairing: Dawn/Spike (with Buffy/Gunn)
Rating: R
Word Count: 1278
Summary: Bea Arthur's got nothing on Dawn Summers.


*

Dawn never wakes up slowly. Instead her eyes snap open and she pops right out of bed, everyday, like she’s a kid on Christmas morning.

Today she’s not a kid, and it’s not Christmas morning, and for once in her life she doesn’t want to jump head-first into her day. Instead of opening her eyes as usual, she clenches them shut, tight enough to spark a dull throb in her head. Then she realizes the way the corners of her eyes must be wrinkling and, in a panic, instantly relaxes her face and blinks open.

Spike is propped on his side, leaning over her with a smile.

“Happy Birthday, pet,” he purrs, blue eyes twinkling as he dips toward her.

Dawn’s eyes cloud at the mention of her birthday but she’s quickly distracted by the feel of Spike’s lips as they suck at her collarbone, slide down her chest, attach to her nipple with a flicker of tongue. Her eyes are getting ready to flutter closed again when she sees a discolored patch of skin on the upper swell of her breast.

Is that a liver spot?! She glares down at the brownish-black blemish, then sighs with relief.

Just a hickey.

Spike’s eyes track up until they land on her face. His lips release her nipple but he doesn’t move. “Something wrong?” he murmurs against the sensitive flesh and Dawn shivers a little even as she shifts slightly away. Normally Spike can distract her from anything, but today is like, major.

“Today is just. . . today is a day of suck,” she splutters.

Spike’s lips shift into a grin and the movement sends sparks up her spine. “Sounds like my kind of day, pet.”

She pushes him away before he can latch on and distract her even more. This is serious.

Spike finally catches on. Supporting himself on his elbow, he places his free hand on her stomach and traces soothing circles there. The grin is gone, replaced by a slight frown that makes his eyes crinkle down at the edges.

She pouts and wonders why his wrinkles get to be sexy.

“So what’s got your knickers in a twist, then?” Somehow he manages to deliver the mocking words with nothing but concern.

Dawn’s not sure where to start, or even if she should say anything. She’s been dreading this for the last 364 days, entertained a thousand thoughts about her life and where she’s headed and it’s hard to figure out how to say it.

Given all the possibilities, even Dawn’s a little surprised at what comes out of her mouth in explanation.

“Buffy and Gunn are somewhere on the other side of the ocean populating the world with the most gorgeous kids ever. . .”

“Thought you didn’t want any rugrats,” Spike interrupts, his face flickering with a hint of worry and more than a hint of confusion.

“I don’t. It’s not that at all,” Dawn hurries to reassure him, knowing she probably sounds like a crazy person but she just can’t help herself. She tries to figure out what she’s trying to say, but it’s hard to map in the jumbled mess of her thoughts so she just lets her mouth run and tries to keep up.

It’s par for the course for her.

“It’s just, I’m an aunt now and everyone I know is being all grown up and doing things grown-ups do and. . . and I’m just getting older and older and closer and closer to just becoming a dried up husk of a spinster who can’t even keep her hot, centurion boyfriend.”

“You’re 29, and you’re perfect,” he laughs as some of the tension in his shoulders melts away. His laugh turns into a lascivious smile as he trails a hand down her stomach and hips, dipping into the heat between her thighs. “And baby, there’s nothin’ dried up about you.”

“Nnng,” she moans, tilting her hips up for more, until she remembers she’s angsting. She reaches down to grab his wrist, reluctantly stopping him once again. “Yes. Twenty-nine. The last year of my youth. The final hurrah before I’m popping black “Over the Hill” balloons at my next party. And what the hell does that mean, anyway? What exactly is over the hill? The magical land of blue hair and varicose veins? No thank you.”

Spike sighs and rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe we’re havin’ a bloody talk about you being old. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

Dawn scowls. “Um, no. Being old is easy for you. You’re always going to look hot and young, and you’re always going to be able to be with whoever you want. Maybe I seem silly to you now but one of these days you’re going to look at me and see Bea Arthur staring back at you and boom, you’ll be gone. There’s nothing tying you to me, no commitment, no kids. . .”

“No commitment?” His voice raises a notch, incredulous. “Love not a commitment, is that right ?”

Her face softens a little, but she can’t stop the roll of her own eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. I meant. . .I mean. . . god, I don’t know what I mean.” Dawn sighs. “I just think some of the milestones are nice—they make getting older almost worth it. I always thought I’d get married some day, that I’d get old with someone who was legally mandated to stick by me when my breasts start sagging.” She looks at him, wills him to understand what she’s saying even if she herself has no earthly idea. “I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”

A strange look settles over Spike’s face and Dawn drops her gaze, picks a spot on his shoulder to study and waits for him to confirm the worst of the fears she’s had over the last year.

He clears his throat. “Nothing stoppin’ us from getting one of those civil union thingies. Vegas an’ all that.”

Her eyes fly to his. He can’t be serious. But the way he’s looking at her she can tell he is, and Dawn’s heart leaps into her throat.

“Really?”

Spike smiles and leans down again, brushes his mouth softly over hers. “I’m already with you for the ride, baby, but if you need something more I’ll give it to you. Give anything I could to make you happy.”

And there it is, the joy of a new day swelling inside Dawn as she wraps her arms around Spike and kisses him back. Her tongue slips into his mouth and out, teeth nibbling at his lower lip just the way he likes until he growls at her. He deepens the kiss and she slides her hands down to grip his narrow hips.

When he moves over her, in her, through her, Dawn doesn’t think about anything but the way he makes her feel like she’s the only woman in the world. But after, when she’s draped over his chest trying to catch her breath, she thinks about being Spike’s wife and spending every morning for the rest of her life like this.

It’s an intoxicating idea.

Dawn buries her face into his pectoral and gives it a light nip before tilting her chin to look at him. “You really won’t leave me when I get old?” she asks with just the hint of a whine and a pout on her lips.

“Don’t know about Bea Arthur, pet, but I always thought Betty White was a looker,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrow and Dawn laughs.

It’s turning out to be just like Christmas, after all.

*





I hope your birthday is fantabulous!