I had a boxing class yesterday afternoon and now I'm paying for every cookie I've ever eaten this afternoon. So, crippled by my own out-of-shapeness, I decided to write a one-shot. I think it turned out alright. I had a discussion with Bobbie last night about all the angst in this fandom (I'm a frequent angst peddlar myself) so I tried to stay away from that this time around. I hope I pulled it off.

I'm not sure when this is set. We'll leave that open. Canon, post-series – make it yours.

Hope you like.

ssg.x.

"Where's the karate kid?"

"Why can't you just call him by his name?" Jet sighed heavily. "And I don't know where he is. I'm not his mother."

"Could have fooled me in that frilly get-up of yours."

"It's an apron. It's for cooking your dinner if you're still invited. And lemme tell you, it doesn't look too good right now," Jet said casually. Faye lifted the lid off the pot of fish head soup simmering on the hot plate, making a show of sniffing it and scowling.

"No, you're right. It doesn't."

He turned to glare back over his shoulder at her from his vegetable chopping but the broad had already made the very wise decision to make a swift exit.

Thank you, Lord.

Faye poked her head back into the doorway.

"If you see Rumpelstiltskin, tell him I'm looking for him."

So. Very. Irritating.

Jet wondered why Faye never bothered to say Spike's name. If it was a joke, Jet didn't get it. He lifted the cutting board over the pot of soup, letting the few vegetables he was able to forage from various corners of the small, dank kitchen area tumble into the pot. One of the fish heads floating on the surface of the soup seemed to be staring at him.

One of these days maybe we can afford the rest of the fish.

"Mom says you're looking for me."

Faye was pleased to see Spike emerging from the corridor into the main room. She knew if she waited long enough he'd end up back here one way or another. Her fingers flew as she began shuffling the deck of cards she'd been holding in her hand for the past half an hour.

"Yeah. I wanted to earn a bit of dough for the evening. Little sister needs some milk for her bottle."

"Sorry, sis. Not interested. You're just gonna have to sing yourself to sleep tonight."

"Come on," Faye insisted.

"I don't have a woolong to spare for cigarettes, let alone your drinking habit. Take it as a compliment. You're better than me at something. Relish the change."

Spike sat down on his couch, rolling quickly into a horizontal position. He stretched his legs and crossed his hands over his ribs, closing his eyes. Faye frowned.

"Why don't you take out a loan from Jet? I'm sure he wouldn't mind lending you some cash for a good cause."

Spike opened one eye and grinned, "And what cause is that?"

Faye's eyes twinkled. She held the deck of cards up, waving it seductively, "Proving yourself wrong."

Spike chuckled, "Fine, I'll play."

"Oh goody," Faye said, dealing the cards. "I'll spot you a little something, too."

"You already have. Aren't we playing strip poker? You're already three quarters of the way undressed."

"Funny, Afro-Ninja."

"My name's Spike."

"Just shut up and play, Beetlejuice."

"Aww, no need to get snippy with me," Spike took up his cards, gazing at them indifferently, more interested in the game they played under the table. "I thought this was all about us spending some quality time with eachother."

"Two pair," she announced after their first friendly game. At the quick and nimble hands of Faye, it had swiftly turned into a mercy killing.

Spike blinked. Faye grinned, "See, it's not so much about quality time as it is about quantity time."

She licked the tip of her pencil and scribbled her winnings out on the pad of paper she'd set out for their game.

"Alright, alright. Another hand. Let's go," Spike said. Faye was a bad winner but Spike was a worse loser. And even though he knew he was right about Faye being much better at this game than him, he wasn't going to just roll over and die. That wasn't in his nature.

Faye's eyes glimmered as she dealt a second hand. A third, then a fourth. Nine games later Faye finally cut Spike's death-by-poker short.

"Maybe we should call it a night, huh, big brother? You're already almost five thousand woolongs in the hole. That's more than enough to get something nice from the candy store."

"Nothin' doin'. Deal."

Spike would never admit it to anyone, but watching Faye stomp him in cards was actually sort of arousing. He'd always liked strong women. For that matter, he'd always liked Faye though he'd stick a hot poker in his ear before letting her know that.

To Spike's dismay Faye shook her head and stood, dropping her notepad on the coffee table and stretching her arms above her head.

"No. That's it. I think I'm done here."

"I'm not. I'll win it back. Come on. Deal," Spike said, setting his jaw.

"If you wanted to spend a little more time with me, why didn't you say so? Come to the candy shop. If you're good I'll buy you some licorice," Faye purred, winking.

Less than an hour later, Faye and Spike were walking along the deck of the harbour together. In Spike's hand was a brown paper bag of…licorice.

"When you said you were going to get something nice from the candy store I thought 'candy' was a metaphor for 'booze'. I didn't think you were actually going to buy me a bag of licorice," Spike stared down into the bag. He pulled out a rope and sniffed it. Shrugging his shoulders, he bit off a piece. When in Rome.

Faye's red lips shimmered with a smile beneath her perfect, pointed nose as she bit off another piece of her chocolate bar.

"Know what's better than booze or sex?"

"What?"

"Chocolate."

Spike glanced across at her. "You must've been victim to some pretty bad sex in your time."

Faye laughed. She broke off a square and offered it to him. Spike shook his head. "I don't mix candy. I always regret it in the morning."

Faye swung in front of him, stopping him abruptly in his tracks. Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up, forcing the bit of chocolate between his lips. A smear of chocolate clung to the corner of his mouth. Spike let the rest melt on his tongue.

"I still prefer the sex."

"You would."

As though suddenly realizing how close they were standing to eachother, Faye looked up as Spike's chin dropped, the eye contact jarring both of them into silence. Faye's fingers reached towards him and he flinched out of habit. She drew her hand back, embarrassed and ashamed, but Spike grabbed her wrist, guiding her fingers back to his lips. Her thumb smeared the chocolate at the corner of his mouth, her tongue darting out to lick it from her finger.

God…

The fact that she'd made the first move, that's what did it for him.

He hadn't realized how much he'd been anticipating this. He hadn't realized that all this time he'd been waiting for her.

He took back her wrist and kept pulling until her arm was around his neck and in his hair, the bag of licorice hitting the ground seconds after Faye's chocolate bar.

Faye gasped as his lips seized hers, surprised by the urgency of the mouth bearing down on her. Kissing, biting, licking. His tongue moved in her ear, trailed its heat along the line of her throat. With a grunt, the strong, sinewy arms around her waist, strumming with a freshly tapped breed of energy, hoisted her up against his chest. Moving a handful of her dark hair aside, he panted moistly into her neck. Faye's moan vibrated by his lips, agitating him further.

"Come on," he said, pulling away from her, holding her out at arm's length by her wrist. His grip was tight, almost painful, as though he were afraid the ferocity of his prurience might prompt her to run.

"Okay," she replied throatily, finding her voice. Spike didn't hesitate. He tugged at her arm, forcing her to either follow or be dragged.

Either way, tonight Faye would probably find out if chocolate really was better than sex.

And Spike would probably get her to say his name.