Crossover: BtVS/Evil Dead
Disclaimer: Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Summary: Buffy thinks it makes him look like Luke Skywalker. Dawn’s convinced he’ll look like a Michael Jackson wannabe.
Author's notes: Comics? What comics? >.> This is set post season 7 for BtVS, and after the end of AoD for Evil Dead.
“Baby,” Ash stared down at the black leather glove Buffy was holding out to him, his eyebrow arching, “I’m more of a Han Solo kinda guy.”
“Well, not anymore.” There was a little self-satisfied grin on the blonde’s face, and without waiting for him to accept it, she grabbed his right hand and started pulling the glove over it, apparently uncaring or whether he wanted to wear it or now. “Luke’s the one with the neat laser-beam-sword, right? And a metal hand? And he wore a glove too, so now you can be like him.”
“I don’t know, Buffy.” Dawn watched with a critical eye as the glove slid into place under her sister’s touch- it kept getting caught on the joints and sharp edges of Ash’s gauntlet, and she would have to tug and guide it around those spots. “I think he’ll look more like Michael Jackson than Luke Skywalker.”
“Can it, string bean,” Ash scowled, giving the other brunette a quick glare as he let Buffy work, “before I can you.”
“Oh I’m so scared.” With a grin that was halfway smirking, Dawn folded her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him primly. “Take his gauntlet, Buffy. Let’s see the one-handed-wonder ‘can’ me then.”
“You,” Buffy interjected quickly, before Ash could even get his mouth open to retort, looking away from the glove to point her finger at her sister, “First off, Michael Jackson’s glove was a different color. Secondly, stop listening to Spike. It’s bad enough when he and Ash are face to face, I don’t need you third party insulting for him, got it?” Dawn rolled her eyes, and it was apparently enough of an agreement, because then the blonde turned that finger to her boyfriend. “And you; quit taking the bait. You know she’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Now hold still, I’m almost done.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled in response, half pouting. He still didn’t get why she thought he needed some kinda glove anyway, but, true to her word, after another moment or two of fiddling, she stepped away with a grin.
“There. How does it feel?”
“How exactly is he supposed to feel anything? Metal hand, remember?” The younger Summers eyebrow arched even higher with her question, prompting an expert eyeroll from Buffy this time.
“I don’t mean that way, doofus. Now shush, I was talking to Ash.”
“Sorry doll, I’m with the kid on this one,” he answered, although he flexed the glove covered hand reflexively. It didn’t look bad, if he was honest with himself, just a little weird. “Righty doesn’t get any feeling, so I dunno what you mean.”
Buffy shook her head, and sighed at that, and reached for his right hand. “Then let’s put it this way; how does this feel.” And as she spoke, she placed that hand against the bare skin of her shoulder. It took a moment for it to sink in, exactly what she was getting at, and when it did- Ash felt something inside his chest swell.
She wasn’t flinching. She wasn’t pulling back from the ice cold touch of his right hand. And she was smiling up at him with that unique mix of slyness and happiness that was all her. Then, without waiting another second, Ash grabbed her up closer, ignoring the sound of disgust from Dawn as he tugged Buffy into a passionate kiss, letting, for the first time since he’d lost his hand, both his hands roam freely across her body.