The Pig's Pajamas


by Saber ShadowKitten



"What's this?" Buffy asked, looking down at the badly wrapped package in her hands.

"What does it bloody look like?" Spike replied. "It's a gift."

She gave him a curious look as she sat down on her bed. "What for?"

"Can't a bloke give a mate a gift without there being a reason?" he said, exasperated.

"With you, no," she said, holding it up to her ear.

"Just open the bleedin' thing, it's not gonna bite," he growled.

Buffy unwrapped the well-taped newspaper as Spike sat straddling her open bedroom window, his fingers drumming on either side of the sill. He was looking anywhere but at the blond Slayer, a feeling of nervousness settling over him. He wondered briefly what had come over him recently, and when he had gone from reluctant ally to ‘happy to see you' friend. Perhaps it had something to do with the passionate girl sitting on the bed, but he wasn't going to analyze it.

"Did you make these?" Buffy asked in an amazed voice, staring down at the opened package.

"Yeah," Spike replied, somewhat shyly. "Took me bloody well long enough, too. It was so much easier in the old days when all a chap had to do was shed a little blood to get something done for you. Their blood, that is."

Suddenly, he found himself with arms full of Slayer. "This is so sweet. Thank you," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, you're the one who said something about it and I thought, what the hell?" he said, a happy feeling spreading from his undead heart.

"You remember that conversation?" Buffy asked incredulously, moving back over to the bed. She picked up the gift and began to put it on.

"Of course," Spike answered. "It's not often we get into a talk that doesn't revolve around death and you wanting to rip my spine out. Especially revolving around old sayings such as ‘the cat's pajamas.'"

"Are you sure you're still a vampire?"

"Slayer?" he said. When she turned and looked at him, he finished, "Piss off."

"Someone's PMSing," she teased. She finished what she was doing and gestured dramatically. "Voila! Mr. Gordo never looked so good."

"Can we go now?"

"Fine, Mr. Antsy," she replied. "I'm coming."

The stuffed pig smiled happily as the two left, decked out in unevenly sewn matching shirt and shorts, his little corkscrew tail sticking out.

Like Buffy once asked, if cat's can have pajamas, why can't pigs?


End