“I know you have a paper to write!” Elizabeth exclaimed in irritation, quickly covering up her easel and shooing Spike away.

Only half-heartedly resisting her annoyed shoves, Spike allowed himself to be manhandled over into the main studio. “Just thought ‘d stop by—” he began.

“—And try to sneak a look at my painting,” she countered smugly, arms crossed over her chest in a no-nonsense manner.

He gave her a truly pathetic look, luscious lower lip jutting out in a delicious manner and pretty blue eyes in full ‘kicked puppy’ mode. “Just a peek?” he whimpered.

“Age six much?” she countered, catching his wrist where he’d tried to playfully slip around her and holding him close to prevent a repeat incident.

He sidled up against her body comfortably and welcomed the impromptu embrace. “Thought you couldn’t refuse me anything?” he countered in a husky whisper.

“Unless you’re being an ass,” she amended her promise from last night.

He pouted again. “Accordin’ to you, that’s always,” he pointed out.

Elizabeth gave him a falsely sweet smile. “That’s because you are an ass, honey. Don’t worry, I still love you.”

He let out a little grumble which had to be the most deliciously masculine sound she’d ever heard. There really wasn’t anything she could do in response except step up on her toes and capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

She sighed contentedly at the feel of his fingers in her hair, stroking the golden locks lovingly. Her own hands found the soft white hairs at the base of his neck and began twisting them absentmindedly about her fingers.

He gave her that sexy little growl again, and she squealed against his lips as he caught her waist and ground her up against his body. The very real evidence of his desire pressed into her through both their jeans, and a naughty little tingle shot up and down her spine.

She knew finals were next week, and she had an insane amount of work to do, and this really wasn’t the appropriate place anyway, but…god, he felt so good!

He, apparently, had the same idea because she quickly found herself backed up against one of the work tables, her hips lifted up so that she was sitting atop it. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, allowing them to grind together in perfect alignment.

Soft, whispering moans escaped the junction of their lips as their tongues thrusted and parried, delighting in their arcane dance. Her breasts were flattened against the hard muscles of his chest, and her pebbled nipples rubbed erotically over the soft cotton of her blouse.

“Mmm…”

Neither was sure exactly who was making those wonderful noises – or whether it was the both of them – but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered right now was the feel of the other and knowledge that…

“Ahem!”

It took a while for the cough to break through the thick fog that surrounded them, but eventually they both started in surprise to see who had interrupted them.

“I believe I’ve been officially scarred for life now,” Joyce commented wryly.

Elizabeth and Spike’s faces both instantly flushed a deep red.

“I always thought I did a rather good job of creating the illusion that I’ve never had sex,” Joyce continued with an evil grin. “You might offer me the same courtesy, William…”

Spike’s face was a deep maroon by now, and he carefully stepped from between Elizabeth’s thighs, shoving his hands deep into his duster pockets as he did so and thus covering up the rather conspicuous bulge at the front of his jeans.

“Mum,” he murmured in the most mortified voice imaginable.

Elizabeth quickly slipped off the desk and began straightening her hair and clothes. “Umm…hi,” she agreed nervously.

An amused smile was still flickering across Joyce’s lips. “So, I take it the two of you worked everything out, then?” she asked curiously. “Funny that I gave up my house for some sort of reconciliation and then never heard the outcome…”

“We didn’t tell you?” Elizabeth let out an apologetic little squeal. “Well, er…uh, yeah. All good.” She stepped discretely in front of Spike who was being far too obvious about covering up his, er, condition.

Joyce was barely holding in her laughter now at the flustered expressions on the two young people’s faces. “I gathered,” she agreed, unlocking one of the cabinets and pulling out a pastel set.

“So, er, yeah.” Spike’s face was still flaming bright red, and he was concentrating very studiously on a spot on the floor right next to Elizabeth’s shoes. “Everythin’s right as rain, an’ all…”

Joyce gave her son a fond smile. Hey, she may have been traumatized by seeing him seducing his girlfriend, but she was still very happy for him and Elizabeth. She’d just gotten this feeling over Christmas break when the pair had been living with them. Elizabeth had fit so perfectly that Joyce had seriously pondered whether this would be The One for her William. Actually, she secretly hoped so since she had instinctively liked Elizabeth as opposed to, say, that little witch Dru. She was well aware that it was her son’s choice to make, though…

“Are you sticking around this summer, then?” Joyce asked Elizabeth conversationally.

“Definitely,” Elizabeth agreed. “I’ve got to work, and it’s not like I’m going to go back to California after…” she trailed off.

Joyce nodded sympathetically. She’d mostly heard about Elizabeth’s dealings with her father through Rupert, who had in turn heard them through William. She’d discovered that despite her reassurances, Elizabeth had been quite a bit more withdrawn from her during the break-up.

“Yeah, been meanin’ to ask,” Spike mumbled, scratching the back of his head and obviously still mortified about being caught by his mother, of all people.

Joyce couldn’t help but tease him just a little. “Stand up straight and stop mumbling!” she barked out in The Dreaded Mom Voice.

Instinctively, Spike jolted to obey her commands…and then realized what she’d done and gave her an annoyed scowl before slumping with renewed enthusiasm.

Joyce chuckled slightly. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Anyway, you were saying?”

Spike let out a sigh of resignation. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was blessed or cursed to have so many bossy, infuriating, wonderful women in his life. His arms slipped unconsciously around the waist of his personal favorite. OK, so maybe he was sure…

“Was wonderin’ if we could shack up at the house this summer,” he provided. “Would do our best not to be a bother. ‘S just that it would save ‘Lizabeth here some worries ‘bout rent on top of everythin’ else…”

“Of course, you and Elizabeth can say,” Joyce agreed with a smile. “Your father and I will be in England in July, but I’m sure the two of you can hold the fort. In fact, it would actually save me the effort of finding a house-sitter.” She gave Elizabeth a conspiratorial wink. “Plus, I’m sure you two could use the alone time…”

Spike blushed again, but it didn’t stop the slow stroking motion of his thumb against Elizabeth’s navel. Talking about this sort of thing with his mom was any young man’s nightmare, true, but he was never ashamed to show his affection for the woman he loved.

“Thanks, Mum,” he grumbled in a way that tried to disguise how grateful he really was for her agreement.

“Yes, thank you so much, Joyce,” Elizabeth agreed, even though she was sure the older woman had caught the hidden emotions in Spike’s voice. “We really appreciate it.”

“Anything I can do to help the younger generation,” Joyce agreed before finally taking pity on William and turning the subject to more neutral matters. “You ready for the final project presentations next Friday?” she asked Elizabeth casually.

Elizabeth grimaced. “Scrambling a bit, actually,” she admitted. “Still have a few more layers, and then there’s the detailing…”

“You went with oils?” Joyce was downright curious now. Her prized pupil had been very secretive about what exactly her final project was.

Elizabeth shrugged. “What can I say? You can just get such amazing realism and subtlety from them…”

Joyce nodded. “Always a favorite of mine, too. Although waiting for your canvas to dry can be bugger-all annoying.”

Elizabeth smiled at the Spikism. Or was it a Gilesism? In any case, she’d caught herself bandying about bizarre British slang in a similar fashion. “Especially when I have a due-date,” she agreed. “But it looks like I’ll make it right on time.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it,” Joyce agreed. “How about you, William? Finals going well?”

Elizabeth gave her boyfriend the Evil Glare Of Death in advance.

He gave her a sheepish shrug in response. “Had two early final papers due,” he explained to his mother. “So, only two tests during finals week…one of which I don’t even hafta study for…”

Elizabeth was contemplating the pros and cons of murdering him at the moment. Her exam schedule involved two tests back-to-back on Monday. Unfortunately, the benefits of having a Spike-shaped bed warmer outweighed her desire to strangle him when he started gloating…for the moment.

“Little devil,” Joyce shook her head in disbelief at her son’s uncanny luck during final’s week.

Spike preened slightly at the epithet, and he looked so gorgeous right then that Elizabeth couldn’t help but lean in and brush a kiss across his lips, maternal presence be damned.

Spike kind of got this goofy half-ecstatic, half-embarrassed look on his face, and she sighed against him.

Joyce, still desperately clinging to the illusion that her baby still didn’t even know the meaning of the word ‘sex’, took the opportunity to say her good-byes.

“All alone now,” Spike whispered into her ear. His raging hard-on hadn’t diminished in the slightest during the conversation. It rarely did.

Elizabeth sighed regretfully. “Can’t,” she insisted, sounding just as disappointed as he looked. “I’ve got way too much work to do…”

He understood, of course, but that didn’t make his jeans any looser around the crotch. “Right,” he agreed. “Should let you get back… Important final project and all that…”

She bit her lip and looked back at her easel, torn. “How about this,” she offered. “We go back home for a quickie, and then you have to quiz me on the slides for my art final. And no distractions.”

A little light shone within the blue depths of his eyes. “Have I ever mentioned you’re the most perfect woman, ever?” he whispered agreed her ear lovingly.

“Don’t say,” she agreed with a wink, “show…”

“Don’t go,” Spike whimpered raggedly as Elizabeth’s naked form slipped from his embrace. His head flopped back onto the pillows ineffectually.

“Have to,” she apologized, leaning over to give her lover a quick kiss but pulling back before he could lure her back in for another round of lovemaking. “I need to study calc with Jonathan tonight and, for obvious reasons, I need to take a shower first.”

Spike nodded his acceptance. Things had been quite hectic lately with Elizabeth still working part-time and studying for finals as well. Sunday, in particular, had been a bitch what with her working and having the two finals the next day. She’d still made time all the way through to give them an hour or so in bed together, here and there. Little breaks of solace and the reaffirmation of their love amidst the busy day-to-day hubbub of their lives. Spike was still on high for this most recent consummation…

“If you got off that sexy butt of yours and took a shower, too, you could join in on the study party in Jonathan’s room,” Elizabeth provided, slipping into her robe and grabbing two clean towels from the closet.

“And watch you study?” he teased. “Joy.”

“You could play video games with Andrew,” she countered. “He’s done, too. And very sly about the gloating…” She gave him a pointed look that indicated that he hadn’t been subtle in any way, shape, or form.

“Gloating?” he said with mock-innocence. “You mean there are some people who aren’t just laying back and relaxin’ all through finals week?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Die.”

“Come over here an’ try and kill me, then,” he countered with a sexy little wiggle of his hips.

There was absolutely no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind what would occur if she were to return to that bed. “Sorry, lover. The shower beckons.”

He groaned and then wearily got up. “All right, ‘m coming with you…”

Elizabeth flashed him a broad smile. “I win!” she announced.

He grumbled something about “bloody women” under his breath as he searched for his own robe, tying the black sash around his waist as he approached her. “Hop to it, then,” he teased. “Studying awaits…at least one of us.”

“Asshole,” she accused with an affectionate kiss.

“Bitch,” he agreed, giving her a little nuzzle before they headed off to the bathroom.

Their courtesy in not showering together was foiled by their discourtesy in taking up both of the shower stalls. After several irritated comments by Anya that they should just have taken one stall, providing one shower available and adding the efficiency that they could have sex while showering, they beat a hasty retreat back to their room.

Spike managed to restrain himself, despite the sight of a naked, wet Elizabeth, and Elizabeth fought off the urge to jump the sexy, naked, wet Spike. Somehow, they made it to Jonathan’s room, and actual studying occurred. Elizabeth considered it to be some form of a miracle.

She and Jonathan quizzed each other on formulas – even though Elizabeth could barely read most of the ones Jonathan had to memorize – and all the while Spike and Andrew shot at each other in video game form in the background.

She was dimly aware that Andrew’s nudges and prods were inspired by a bit more than friendly camaraderie, but she wasn’t concerned. After all, she’d proven her boyfriend’s heterosexuality twice today alone. And, given that Andrew spent as much time in Westing House as he did, he had to be woefully aware of the fact that Spike was unavailable, too. It didn’t stop a bit of harmless flirting, though.

As Elizabeth sat back in Jonathan’s desk chair and tried to sort the x’s, y’s, and d’s out in her mind properly, her mind remained half on the man she loved. It was nice living like this, she decided. It took a bit of an effort to fit everything together, and she could almost understand why she had once thought that it would be best to leave him out of her complicated life. But the benefits of having him at her side far exceeded any work and sacrifice either of them had to make…

“Your ass is mine!” Andrew shouted in triumph as his quadruple-attack drained most of Spike’s remaining health.

With one last smile at Spike’s attempts to bitch-slap Andrew back to level four, Elizabeth returned full out to her studying. Now was for acing her test. Tomorrow… Well, tomorrow she quite hoped to blow his mind…

“Calc aced?” Spike asked a weary Elizabeth as she stepped out of the exam room.

She let out a sigh. “Couldn’t quite get an answer on number four,” she admitted, “but I wrote down a whole bunch of stuff, so I’ll hopefully get a lot of partial credit.”

“No one ever gets high scores on math finals, anyway,” he assured her. “They’re designed so that even the TAs can’t finish in time.”

She gave him a small smile, which widened when she saw what he was holding. “For me?” she asked with a flutter of her eyelashes.

“I get a bite, at least,” he countered, handing over the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie and a small spoon.

She gave him a gleeful smile and a quick hug. “Women the world over are envious that my boyfriend brings me chocolate ice-cream,” she informed him, settling down on one of the couches in the lobby of the math building and pulling him down beside her.

“Well, that and he’s a demon in the sack,” Spike countered with a rakish grin before leaning in on the recently-opened container. It was frightening just how fast half of the ice-cream had vanished.

Dutifully, Elizabeth fed him a spoonful, her mouth watering for more than chocolate at the way his tongue flicked sensuously over the spoon, savoring every last drop.

“Wanna go to bed?” he asked with a smirk, his tongue making one final pass over the spoon.

Elizabeth nodded numbly and then shook her head. “I mean, soon,” she clarified, ingesting more chocolate in the hopes that it would clear her head. Plus, the thought of eating off of that spoon after watching Spike… Yummy.

He pouted. “Art project still not done?” he sighed, flopping back onto the couch.

“Nope,” she assured him. “Project completely done. Just have to show it to someone special before I present it in class on Friday.”

A smile curved at the edges of his lips. “ ‘Someone special’?” he repeated.

She shook her head at him. “Of course it’s you, dumbass.” She whapped him on the thigh gently.

“Mmm,” he murmured into her hair, “I get to see, then?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, taking a deep, nervous breath, “you get to see.”

A scarred eyebrow rose at the slight nervous fidget after she’d finished her ice-cream. “Nervous, luv?” he asked softly, slipping a comforting arm around her waist.

“A little,” she admitted. “About what you’ll think, I mean…”

“You know I love all your work,” he assured her. “How could I not? It comes from you, luv.”

“God, you’re so sweet,” she informed him, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. “My cuddly kitty-cat.”

He groaned. “Thought ‘d escaped the ‘kitty-cat’ thing…” he mock-complained.

“Never,” she assured him before taking his hands and getting up. “C’mon,” she said with a wide smile, “I wanna show you.”

“Someone sure perks right up with liberal doses of chocolate,” he teased.

Elizabeth tossed the now-empty container into the garbage. “C’mon, baby,” she prodded him again.

“No need to ask me twice,” he agreed.

“I already did,” she countered in triumphant victory.

He stuck out his tongue in response, and she giggled and let him chase her all the way to the art building…

“It’s called ‘Blue Horizons’,” Elizabeth commented, sitting back in the armchair of the critique room and looking at the painting that was displayed before the class.

Joyce gave Elizabeth an impressed nod. This piece really did appear to be the culmination of the year’s work, a unique blending to the surreal and real, symbolic and literal. “What emotions does this painting convey to you?” she asked the class at large.

“Well, I, like, see the horizon,” one of the jocks in the back of the room provided. “And it’s all blue ‘cause it’s, y’know, the ocean…”

Elizabeth fought not to roll her eyes.

Joyce managed a patient smile. “Yes, that does explain the title,” she agreed, “but what emotions do you associate it with?”

“Peace,” a shy girl in the corner spoke up.

“Can you elaborate?” Joyce pressed her.

She blushed but continued in a soft voice nonetheless. “Well, the water’s calm and since it’s inside the eye and all… I just thought it was like internal peace.”

“Yes, the blending of images does tend to draw parallels between the internal mindset at the ocean scene,” Joyce agreed. “It’s very well done, by the way,” she informed Elizabeth. “At first it almost looks just like a picture of an eye until you see that the blue actually forms and ocean and sky within.”

“And the glare in the pupil looks kind of like the setting sun,” quiet girl spoke up again. “Or maybe it’s rising. I can’t tell.”

“Any answers?” Joyce asked Elizabeth.

“It’s supposed to be both,” Elizabeth responded.

“So, does that mean that you’re, like, the ocean?” Dumb Jock was giving unsolicited opinions once more.

“It’s not her eye,” Quiet said, obviously mentally cringing at Dumb Jock’s assessments.

“Yes,” Joyce agreed. “What do you make of that?”

“It’s her boyfriend.” That was Jock #2, more silent but slightly more intelligent than Dumb Jock. “You can tell because of the eyebrow scar.”

Joyce had, of course, identified it immediately. Every mother knew her son’s eyes. “So what does that tell you?” she pressed.

“Dunno.” Jock #2 was obviously worried about being typecast as some kind of ‘artsy type’.

“It’s about looking into other people,” Science Geek finally spoke up.

“Oh?” Joyce inquired.

“Well, you’re looking at someone else. Even the artist is,” he clarified. “And in their eye is this ocean that you don’t see at first.”

“So what does the water mean?” Joyce asked the class.

“It’s, like, big,” Dumb Jock was back. “’Cause it’s the ocean and all. And deep. Like, emotionally deep.”

Elizabeth winced inwardly. There was one in every class.

Quiet spoke up again, repaying Elizabeth for the intelligent comments she’d received on her own painting. “It’s hard to define,” she began, biting her lip hesitantly.

Joyce gestured for her to continue.

“Well, the expression is… It’s very intense, but it doesn’t look particularly happy or sad or anything. It can be interpreted in a lot of ways. And I think the ocean inside is kinda the same thing. I look at it and I think of peace, and, um…” she gestured to Dumb Jock, “he sees different stuff. I think it’s all about just looking carefully.”

“I agree,” Joyce nodded. “I had a variety of emotional responses as well. I thought the blue in the water might be sad at first, and then I saw the little glints of light and thought it looked happy. Then, you mentioned the ‘at peace’ idea, and I could see that, too. Maybe more of a…potentiality of emotion, than any emotion in particular.”

“Which totally works with the whole ‘horizon’ thing,” Jock #2 spoke up. “’Cause horizons are like looking ahead at what’s to come, and this is the stage right before then. Sort of like college.”

Dumb Jock gave him a disbelieving look that let Jock #2 know that his sexuality was being seriously questioned.

“And it’s, like, whoa!” Jock #2 quickly made the dumbest comment he could think of to save his reputation.

Joyce couldn’t help but shake her head at the politics of some teens. “I like that,” she commented, “potentiality looking forward to the future… Any other comments?”

A rich, deep silence followed her question.

“So, Elizabeth,” she finally gave the painting’s creator a chance to speak, “any comments?”

“You’ve touched upon all the major points,” she agreed.

Joyce gave her a small smile. “Moving on then… Jason?”

Dumb Jock got up at tacked a sketchy self-portrait of himself up onto the wall. “I call it ‘Me’,” he said in the same bored drawl he said everything in.

Elizabeth and Quiet Girl both bit their tongues and tried desperately to come up with something remotely interesting to say…

“How’d the masterpiece go over?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Spike hadn’t even waited for the class to fully clear out before he’d barged his way in. She watched him slump back into the comfy couch and shook her head. “You’re hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Completely,” he agreed cheerily enough. He watched Quiet Girl practically flee from the room now that she wasn’t actually required to talk anymore, and Dumb Jock was bothering Jock #2 about something.

“No, get it?” Dumb Jock’s voice could just barely be heard in the hallway. “Long and deep? It’s totally about how she wants to screw him…”

Spike cast Elizabeth an amused look. “That true, luv?” he teased. “’Cause all you ever had to do was ask…”

She threw a couch pillow at him. “The insights of the football team…” She rolled her eyes.

“You so wanna screw me,” he countered, obviously highly entertained by the idea.

She scowled at him. “The desire’s fading rapidly,” she threatened lightly.

“All right, ‘ll shut up,” he sighed. “So, how’d it go?”

“Well,” Elizabeth agreed. “Really well. I got some remotely intelligent comments out of people who usually have no clue what they’re talking about.”

“See?” he said with a cocky grin. “Told you they’d love it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause what with me being the artist and all I’d never have thought about that before,” she retorted.

He gave her a delighted smile and abruptly caught her about the waist, yanking her down into his lap. She let out a little squeal before sidling against him.

“Everythin’ about you is so beautiful, luv,” he informed her in a husky whisper. “There’s no way this could be any different…”

She offered him a small smile and then leaned in to taste his lips once more. She didn’t think she could ever grow tired to the taste of him or the heady scent. She pulled him in closer and…

“Ahem.”

They pulled apart.

“Sorry, Mum.”

“Sorry, Joyce.”

Around chapter 15, I got an e-mail asking why this story was titled 'Blue Horizons'. Well, you've finally got your answer 30 chapters later. ~_^ Nearing the end now, so all feedback's appreciated...