Fic: Too Much Interference (NC-17) 2/?
May. 29th, 2007 02:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_icy_roseTitle: Too Much Interference
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Buffy - through season 5, early season 6 later. Supernatural - at least through "No Exit" (2x06).
Summary: The Scoobies, Sam, and everyone else may feel like they know too much about Buffy and Dean, but they're not the only ones. Because, really, Buffy and Dean just want to know when they're all going to stop interfering in their lives. And more importantly, when they're going to stop interrupting them.
Disclaimer: Oh yeah. They're mine. Kripke and Whedon? They had to get my permission to create their shows. *pauses* Pfffft. Yeah, I wish. But I had you going there for a minute, didn't I?
Note: As you can probably guess, this is the companion piece to Aimee's Too Much Information. It will be done entirely from Buffy and Dean's POVs, hence the rating.
Finally, I remember to post chapter two! *shakes head* The other chapters will come quicker until I catch up to where I'm at on Route 66. Promise!
Previous Parts
Dean
Who knew that getting knocked flat on your ass by a girl could be such a complete turn on? I didn’t until I met Buffy Summers. She stormed into that shop, eyes blazing and the next thing I know, I’m staring at the ceiling.
It took some fast talking to get her over being pissed off at us. Well, that and Sam giving her that look that makes him look like a puppy. It’s practically impossible to stay mad at him once he gives you that look. Hell, she even agreed to let us check out her weapons (which wasn’t a euphemism for anything else, unfortunately) and see if we wanted to use any while hunting down this bitch.
Of course, that would be a whole lot more fun if she didn’t lecture us about them. And when I say us, I mean me. She’d be a lot more hot if she wasn’t always telling me about the “right way” to use a crossbow. Apparently, I’ve been doing it wrong.
Sanctimonious bitch.
God, I want her.
Don’t even get me started on the fact that she insists on calling me a man whore every chance she gets just because Sam said something about me finding a girl to be with in almost every town we stop in. (And I swear, the next time I see Sam smirk when she says it, I’m killing him.) Who the hell does she think she is judging me? At least I’m not the one dressed like an extra for Pretty Woman.
I take another drink of my beer and continue to watch as she dances. Despite what Sam keeps saying, I’m not stalking her. I admit, I’ve been trying to get her to look over here, meet my eyes or something, but she keeps finding a way to avoid that. It’s not like I’m going to jump her or something. I actually just want to talk, which she doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of.
I figure if I stare at her long enough she’ll get annoyed enough to look over here and glare at me. Or she’ll stomp over here and get in my face. If I’m lucky, she’ll do that thing where she crosses her arms and taps her foot. She looks hot when she does that.
Jesus, I sound like a girl. Worse, I sound like Sam.
“Dude.” I feel something poke me in the side. Speaking of Sam… “Snap out of it. Walk over to her or blink, you’re creeping me out.”
Right, like he’s such an expert on women. I don’t think so…and hey! What the hell, little brother? That’s my beer.
“Man, I wasn’t through with that.” Bitch.
I don’t even have to look to know that Sam is giving me that look of his. You know the one.
“I’ll get you another one. You going to be here?” I glance over just in time to see him nodding at the table. “I’m serious, talk to her or leave her alone before she stakes you for your psycho stalking.”
What is he, the love police? Nag, nag, nag. He better shut up or I swear I’m going to bring up that incident with the waitress in that diner in Idaho.
“I am. I will.” Man, he acts like I don’t have a plan. I do. I’m going to talk to her. Eventually. Which means if she doesn’t look over here within the next few minutes, I’m going over there. “I’m just biding my time.”
“Yeah.”
I only make it for a minute before I’m getting up and making my way through the crowd. She’s moved further away from her friends now and with her back to me, the moment is too good to pass up. I press up against her back, hands on her waist, and lower my mouth to her ear.
“Miss me, sweetheart?”
She spins around, already glaring at me. “Miss you? Sure I missed you. I missed you about as much as I’d miss—“
“If you say a hole in your head, I’m going to have to take away originality points.” I smirk when she throws her hands up in disgust. She makes it too easy sometimes.
“You’re such an asshole!” Yeah and here we go. Her hands are on her hips. Any minute now that foot is going to start tapping. “Are you always like this?”
“No. Usually I’m more of a bastard than an asshole.” And cue the foot tapping. I wave my arm in the general direction of the group of guys that have been staring at her (and they clearly have never heard of the word ‘subtle’ before because their eyes are practically falling out). “You want an asshole, I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige.”
Oh, more arm waving. “You can’t take anything seriously, can you? Everything’s a joke to you.”
Where the hell did that come from? I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “You don’t know a thing about me, Princess, so why don’t you quit while you’re ahead.”
“Oh, I know things about you.” She begins ticking them off on her fingers. “You’re stupid.” One finger. “We’ve already covered that you’re an asshole.” Another finger. “And…and I’m better at killing demons than you.”
Oh, hell no. She did not just go there.
“Excuse me? I’ve been doing this for most of my life, sweetheart. Just because you’re the Slayer doesn’t mean you’re the best.”
“It means I’m better at it than you.”
“Really? And what makes you think that?”
“I’d have so already killed that worm thingy by now.”
“It’s a wyrm. And if you’re so good at killing demons, how come it’s still not dead? This is, after all, your town as you so helpfully pointed out the other day.”
Her mouth opens and closes for a moment and I smirk. Got you there, didn’t I?
“Because you’re all possessive about who hunts the demon, that’s why!” She glances around as she realizes just how loud her voice got on that last sentence.
“Well if you think you’re so good, you can just help us hunt the wyrm.”
“Fine, I will.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I’m about to open my mouth to say something way more clever than ‘fine’ when an arm slides up and around my neck from the side and another arm wraps around my waist.
“Hey handsome.”
I look down to see a dark-haired woman with dark eyes that are just full of mischief looking up at me. It’s practically automatic for me to respond. “Hey yourself.” I grin.
“Faith.” I look up to see Buffy staring at the woman with a clenched jaw and is that a bit of jealousy I see on her face?
“B.” It’s all they say to each other but it’s enough for me to tell that there’s a history between the two and that it’s not all good. I glance between the two.
Well, this should be interesting.
Pairing: Buffy/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Buffy - through season 5, early season 6 later. Supernatural - at least through "No Exit" (2x06).
Summary: The Scoobies, Sam, and everyone else may feel like they know too much about Buffy and Dean, but they're not the only ones. Because, really, Buffy and Dean just want to know when they're all going to stop interfering in their lives. And more importantly, when they're going to stop interrupting them.
Disclaimer: Oh yeah. They're mine. Kripke and Whedon? They had to get my permission to create their shows. *pauses* Pfffft. Yeah, I wish. But I had you going there for a minute, didn't I?
Note: As you can probably guess, this is the companion piece to Aimee's Too Much Information. It will be done entirely from Buffy and Dean's POVs, hence the rating.
Finally, I remember to post chapter two! *shakes head* The other chapters will come quicker until I catch up to where I'm at on Route 66. Promise!
Previous Parts
Dean
Who knew that getting knocked flat on your ass by a girl could be such a complete turn on? I didn’t until I met Buffy Summers. She stormed into that shop, eyes blazing and the next thing I know, I’m staring at the ceiling.
It took some fast talking to get her over being pissed off at us. Well, that and Sam giving her that look that makes him look like a puppy. It’s practically impossible to stay mad at him once he gives you that look. Hell, she even agreed to let us check out her weapons (which wasn’t a euphemism for anything else, unfortunately) and see if we wanted to use any while hunting down this bitch.
Of course, that would be a whole lot more fun if she didn’t lecture us about them. And when I say us, I mean me. She’d be a lot more hot if she wasn’t always telling me about the “right way” to use a crossbow. Apparently, I’ve been doing it wrong.
Sanctimonious bitch.
God, I want her.
Don’t even get me started on the fact that she insists on calling me a man whore every chance she gets just because Sam said something about me finding a girl to be with in almost every town we stop in. (And I swear, the next time I see Sam smirk when she says it, I’m killing him.) Who the hell does she think she is judging me? At least I’m not the one dressed like an extra for Pretty Woman.
I take another drink of my beer and continue to watch as she dances. Despite what Sam keeps saying, I’m not stalking her. I admit, I’ve been trying to get her to look over here, meet my eyes or something, but she keeps finding a way to avoid that. It’s not like I’m going to jump her or something. I actually just want to talk, which she doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of.
I figure if I stare at her long enough she’ll get annoyed enough to look over here and glare at me. Or she’ll stomp over here and get in my face. If I’m lucky, she’ll do that thing where she crosses her arms and taps her foot. She looks hot when she does that.
Jesus, I sound like a girl. Worse, I sound like Sam.
“Dude.” I feel something poke me in the side. Speaking of Sam… “Snap out of it. Walk over to her or blink, you’re creeping me out.”
Right, like he’s such an expert on women. I don’t think so…and hey! What the hell, little brother? That’s my beer.
“Man, I wasn’t through with that.” Bitch.
I don’t even have to look to know that Sam is giving me that look of his. You know the one.
“I’ll get you another one. You going to be here?” I glance over just in time to see him nodding at the table. “I’m serious, talk to her or leave her alone before she stakes you for your psycho stalking.”
What is he, the love police? Nag, nag, nag. He better shut up or I swear I’m going to bring up that incident with the waitress in that diner in Idaho.
“I am. I will.” Man, he acts like I don’t have a plan. I do. I’m going to talk to her. Eventually. Which means if she doesn’t look over here within the next few minutes, I’m going over there. “I’m just biding my time.”
“Yeah.”
I only make it for a minute before I’m getting up and making my way through the crowd. She’s moved further away from her friends now and with her back to me, the moment is too good to pass up. I press up against her back, hands on her waist, and lower my mouth to her ear.
“Miss me, sweetheart?”
She spins around, already glaring at me. “Miss you? Sure I missed you. I missed you about as much as I’d miss—“
“If you say a hole in your head, I’m going to have to take away originality points.” I smirk when she throws her hands up in disgust. She makes it too easy sometimes.
“You’re such an asshole!” Yeah and here we go. Her hands are on her hips. Any minute now that foot is going to start tapping. “Are you always like this?”
“No. Usually I’m more of a bastard than an asshole.” And cue the foot tapping. I wave my arm in the general direction of the group of guys that have been staring at her (and they clearly have never heard of the word ‘subtle’ before because their eyes are practically falling out). “You want an asshole, I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige.”
Oh, more arm waving. “You can’t take anything seriously, can you? Everything’s a joke to you.”
Where the hell did that come from? I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “You don’t know a thing about me, Princess, so why don’t you quit while you’re ahead.”
“Oh, I know things about you.” She begins ticking them off on her fingers. “You’re stupid.” One finger. “We’ve already covered that you’re an asshole.” Another finger. “And…and I’m better at killing demons than you.”
Oh, hell no. She did not just go there.
“Excuse me? I’ve been doing this for most of my life, sweetheart. Just because you’re the Slayer doesn’t mean you’re the best.”
“It means I’m better at it than you.”
“Really? And what makes you think that?”
“I’d have so already killed that worm thingy by now.”
“It’s a wyrm. And if you’re so good at killing demons, how come it’s still not dead? This is, after all, your town as you so helpfully pointed out the other day.”
Her mouth opens and closes for a moment and I smirk. Got you there, didn’t I?
“Because you’re all possessive about who hunts the demon, that’s why!” She glances around as she realizes just how loud her voice got on that last sentence.
“Well if you think you’re so good, you can just help us hunt the wyrm.”
“Fine, I will.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I’m about to open my mouth to say something way more clever than ‘fine’ when an arm slides up and around my neck from the side and another arm wraps around my waist.
“Hey handsome.”
I look down to see a dark-haired woman with dark eyes that are just full of mischief looking up at me. It’s practically automatic for me to respond. “Hey yourself.” I grin.
“Faith.” I look up to see Buffy staring at the woman with a clenched jaw and is that a bit of jealousy I see on her face?
“B.” It’s all they say to each other but it’s enough for me to tell that there’s a history between the two and that it’s not all good. I glance between the two.
Well, this should be interesting.
