Title: Five Groupies
Pairing: None, really.
Disclaimers: Buffy & Co. belong to Joss Whedon, Kazui, Fox, etc.
Distribution/Archive: Ask first.
Summary: Pretty much what the title says.
She was stretched out comfortably on his couch the first and only time he sang for her. She’d wandered in while he was practicing and asked him not to stop; his voice was lovely and his playing was too. So he continued to play while she made tea and made herself comfortable on the couch, and played more as her smile of pleasure faded into a smile of contented sleep. Only after he was sure she would not wake did he put his guitar away on its stand and kiss her cheek before turning out the light. “Good night, Jenny.”
She was standing by the stage when he finished his set at the Espresso Pump, her eyes shining brightly. She reached up to hug him as he put his guitar down. “You were so fabulous!” she gushed. “I mean, really! And those songs! You should play more often!” As he stammered and blushed his thanks for her profuse praise, she suddenly got a wicked grin on her face and pulled a notebook from her pocket. “Can I have your autograph?” she teased, her voice as breathy as though he were David Cassidy. “And could you make it out to Willow?”
“You should sing more often,” came the blunt comment across the Magic Box. He raised an eyebrow at his clerk and she shrugged. “Well, you should. You have a pleasant voice and your playing is very accomplished. And I heard the women at the Espresso Pump ask you to come back. If you played there on a weekly basis, they would truly begin to appreciate you. You are an attractive man, after all, and it isn’t fair that everyone else in the group should have an orgasm partner but you.” She walked away, and he fought the urge to run.
Her voice was so soft that at first he wasn’t sure he heard her properly. Then she repeated herself, and he had to smile. “Thank you, Tara,” he said gently. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show. She smiled back at him and allowed that she was, too, and then she asked when he would be playing again. “Well, I don’t really know,” he explained. “Life being so hectic when one is Watcher to an active Slayer, gigs occasionally get cancelled and there’s nothing I can do. Business must come first.” She nodded, understanding, and hoped he would perform again soon.
He entered his dark apartment, putting his guitar away and moving into the kitchen by memory. There was disappointment in his tread. She had promised to come tonight, but he hadn’t seen her. Nor was the light on his answering machine blinking, so she had left no message begging off due to apocalypse. No, she was off somewhere with the soldier boy, most likely. He came out of the kitchen, cup of tea in hand, and was startled by her, sitting in his chair in the dark, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. “You were fantastic tonight,” Buffy said softly.