Title: Beloved

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Takes place after What’s my Line Part 2 (Btvs S2) Angel is hurt and Buffy goes to take care of him. Written for the CYA ficathon. Requests were B/A and humor. I hope there’s enough humor in it. The funny bunny just wasn’t visiting.

 

 

            “Knock, knock, anyone home?” I say. My voice seems to echo in the small space. I can see Angel asleep on his bed tucked in that alcove.

 

            He stirs and turns over. I can’t help the smile on my face. He’s beautiful like movie star beautiful. Truthfully, Christian Slater and James Spader, have nothing on my boyfriend in the looks department and Owen, God I can’t even believe I wanted to go out with Owen over Angel. I mean Owen, Angel, Owen, Angel, Owen, Angel, it’s a no brainer.

 

 Angel isn’t a morning person so when he wakes up he looks groggy, grouchy and his hair is all sticking straight up and he’s adorable. I grin at him and hold aloft the brown paper sack I’m holding.

 

            “I brought breakfast for both of us,” I chirp.

 

            Angel scrubs his hands over his face. He winces, having momentarily forgot that last night he had a dagger through his hand.  I bite my bottom lip and cross the short distance to his bed. I crouch beside him. I ruffle my fingers through his hair and kiss his hand, careful to stay away from the actual wound.

 

            “Poor baby, let me dress it for you,” I say. I slide my backpack off my shoulders. Today instead of school books it holds taking care of Angel things.

 

            “Shouldn’t you be in school?” Angel asks. He looks up at me confused, still not quite awake.

 

            “No, I skipped out after lunch sick and Giles is confirming for me. Today I’m taking care of you,” I say.

 

            “Buffy, you shouldn’t-“ he starts.

 

            I stop his protests with a kiss. It’s supposed to chaste and innocent. Kisses never stay that way when it’s me and Angel. He teases my lips with the tip of his tongue and I place my hands on his chest, pushing him back into the bed. I slither onto his lap, my mouth devouring his. I’ve never been so hungry for a touch, a kiss as I am with him. The more I get the more I want and will it ever be satisfied?  I want more of Angel, always more. He pulls back panting harshly and both of us realize that he’s still in bed. I don’t know for certain but I’m pretty sure Angel sleeps naked. The sheet has slipped down far enough that I can see Angel’s hip bones. I ache to reach out and run a finger over them.

 

            I down my head properly chastened. “Sorry. I sort of got carried away,” I mumble.

 

            He grins and lifts my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes. “Nothing wrong with carried away,” he whispers. His voice is husky with sleep and desire and it makes my stomach flip flop. “Why don’t you go warm up breakfast and I’ll get dressed,” he says.

 

            I nod and slip off the bed. I snatch up my backpack and the bag from the butcher.  Angel waits until I’m almost to the kitchen to slip out of bed. I can’t help sneaking a peek. I see a flash of pale, beautiful and naked (gulp) skin along with crimson bright sheets. Oh God, he sleeps naked.  He sleeps naked, Angel sleeps naked. I want to turn around and stare at him but my embarrassment and modesty gets the better of me and I go on into the tiny galley style kitchen. I get the mug I bought for him out of my backpack and pour cold blood into it. It’s a black mug with the words #1 Boyfriend printed on it in white. I bought it a few days ago when Will and I were out shopping.

 

            While Angel’s blood is warming up I sip from my own still toasty latte and pick pieces off what’s left of my croissant.  Once the microwave beeps I take the mug into the living room. Angel is sitting in a chair still all gruff and rumbled looking but dressed in black pants and a long sleeved white shirt. I hand him the mug and he looks at it a little confused then glances up at me.

 

            “It’s a present. Now every time you eat you can think of me,” I quip.

 

 I situate myself on his lap and set my coffee on the floor.  I fumble around until I find my backpack.  I get the first aid kit out and cut away the bandage from last night. I try not to look at the dried blood on the white gauze because it makes me all too aware of how close I came to losing him last night.

 

            I pour peroxide into the huge hole in his hand. It bubbles white and Angel winces.  I mumble an apology and get out the antibiotic cream.

 

            “Buffy, I really don’t need all of this. Vampires don’t get infections,” he says.

 

            I swallow my tears. “The peroxide bubbled and turned white. That means infection. Mom said so,” I say.

 

            “Buffy, it won’t kill me,” he says.

 

            The tears I’m keeping in tremble and force their way up from the pit of my stomach into my throat. I swallow again trying to make them go back down.

 

 “No, because I’m going to fix the infection and I’m going to kill it even if that means I have to drop a big piano thing on top of it,” I choke out and suddenly I’m not talking about the infection. The tears overwhelm me and make my entire body hitch with the effort of crying.

 

Angel’s arms go around me. He’s shushing me and whispering in some language that’s definitely not English.  I can’t stop the sobs that come unbidden to shake my entire body. I try to quell the tears and choke them back. I hate being a sniffley, drippy mess around him.  I can’t help but remember that picture of the really coiffed girl in the book. Coiffed girls do not get snot on their boyfriend’s shirt. I push myself away from him and swipe at my nose with the back of my hand.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want is me using you for a handkerchief,” I say.

 

He gives me that little half grin and wipes my tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You can use me for anything you-I mean I don’t mind,” he says a little flustered and embarrassed.

 

I smile at him. “You know I came here to take care of you and you seem to be doing all the taking care of,” I say.

 

I get gauze from the first aid box and wrap a length of it around his hand. He’s almost as pale as the bandage. I secure it with a piece of tape and a kiss.

 

“There, all better,” I say with fake cheerfulness. I start to get up and Angel grabs me around the wrist with his other hand.

 

            “Are you okay?” Angel asks. His eyes say more then his words ever could.

 

            I glance away from the heat of that gaze and shrug. “I don’t know. I almost lost you last night. My life-I don’t know what I’d do without you, Angel. I meant it when I said you’re the one thing in my like that makes sense. Without you, the slaying thing and the high school thing and the everything, it doesn’t work. Without you, I don’t work and I can’t do that. I can’t lose you, Angel,” I say in a rush of rambled words.

 

            He takes my chin between gentle fingers and makes me look at him. “Buffy, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

 

            “Promise?” I ask in a husky voice.

 

            “With all my soul,” he says.

 

            I can’t help but smile and notice that he didn’t promise on his heart, he promised on his soul.

 

            “Anyway you could cut down on the life and death situations while you’re making promises? I’m not sure my heart can take it,” I say.

 

            Angel chuckles a little. “I’ll do my best,” he says.

 

            “Good ‘cause the dangling like a Christmas tree ornament, not really a good look for you,” I say.

 

            “It’s not a good feeling either,” he says and flexes his injured hand. I grab his wrist lightly, my fingers resting against the heel of his hand.

 

            “Stop, you’ll break open the scab and then we’ll have to redress it all over again,” I say.

 

            “You’re staying here all day?” Angel asks.

 

            I nod. “Yeah, I can’t exactly go home because school knows I’m not there but Mom doesn’t know I’m not there and Mrs.  Clemons next door has decided that it’s her personal duty to make sure Mom knows when I come home from school and when I leave and what I do anytime she’s not there. I mean if you don’t want me here I can go to the library or you know the mall, the Espresso Pump, something. I mean you’re not stuck with me or anything-“ I start rambling.

 

            Angel stops me with a kiss, soft and sweet. It’s the kind of kiss girly movies end with and marriages begin with and whoa I just mentioned Angel and marriage in almost the same sentence. Oh God, so in over my head it’s not even funny and these kisses just keep pushing me further.

 

            “So does that mean you want me here?” I ask breathlessly.

 

            Angel chuckles. “I want you here,” he whispers.

 

            “Good. Oh! Before I forget I brought games,” I say and reach down to rummage in my backpack again.

 

*

 

            “Buffy, depressedy is not a word,” Angel says.

 

            “It is so a word. I use it on a weekly basis, like I’ll tell Willow that I’m not gonna go all depressedy because I have to save the world, again,” I say.

 

            “Buffy,” he starts.

 

            “Oh and like ioniun is a word?” I say.

 

            Angel grins. He leans over the scrabble board and trails his fingers over my cheekbone and alights his thumb on my lips. “It’s Gaelic, it means beloved. Buffy, you are my Ioniun,” he whispers.

 

            Beloved, beloved as in I love you, beloved. Angel just almost in a round about cryptic taciturn guy way said I love you, to me, Buffy Summers. My mouth goes dry and the world kind of does that funny tilty thing that it does when Angel kisses me. Angel loves me. I mean I’ve been writing Buffy loves Angel and Buffy and Angel 4ever on my notebooks for like ages, but this is different. This is Angel loves Buffy, kind of except he didn’t say that, Oh God, ok you know breathing is good.

 

            “Buffy, are you okay?” He asks.

 

            “Yeah, I’m fine, I just-” I stop. I can’t tell him about my internal ramble so there’s not much use in explaining it.

 

            “You just what?” He persisted.

 

            I shake my head and smile at him. “Nothing, I just-you’re my Ioniun too,” I say.

 

            Angel swallows hard and I know he gets my point, he sees the meaning behind the words we’re both too afraid to say. I don’t know why I’m afraid. I mean I do but it doesn’t make sense. Angel and I are on such shaky ground anyway because of the vampire thing and the slayer thing and the age thing, I’m afraid if I say the words he’ll run.

 

            “You need to rest. I know I woke you up,” I say.

 

 I reach across the game board, Scrabble completely forgotten, and rest my hand on his cheek. Angel places his hand over mine and turns his face toward our hands so that he can kiss my palm. I smile at him. I can’t help it.

 

“Lie down with me? You don’t have to be home yet, do you?” Angel says.

 

I shake my head. “I have to meet with Giles later to do the pre patrol briefing but I’m all yours for at least 4 more hours,” I say.

 

Angel stands up from his place on the floor and holds his uninjured hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.  He tugs me over to his bed and lies down. He pats the place beside him.  I grin and crawl into bed next to him. His shoulder provides the perfect pillow for my head. I tilt my head up to look at him just because he’s so pretty to look at and I’m not surprised to find him looking down at me. He touches the tip of my nose with his finger.

 

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispers.

 

“Well until I pulled that funny little thing where I died, there was only one of me and so the Powers kind of had it easy deciding where to send you,” I say.

 

“There’s still only one of you, Buffy. There may be more then one slayer but there will never ever be another person like you,” he says.

 

“You sound so sure,” I say.

 

“I’m 242 years old and I’ve only ever met one you. I’d say the odds are pretty good,” he says with a crooked grin.

 

I stretch just a little and my lips brush his. In the space of a heartbeat he flips over and levers his body flush with mine.  His lips tease at mine, his teeth nipping my bottom lip, sucking at it. I twine my hands at the nape of his neck and tug him down, closer, needing more of him, wanting more of him. Angel’s hands slide up my body, brushing my hips, slipping up my waist, teasing each of my ribs and just brushing the curve of my breasts. His hands hover there a moment and then slide back down my body, just as sensuously and come to rest on my hip bones. I moan softly into his mouth and Angel growls in response.

 

“Oh, God, Angel,” I gasp, clawing for air. I can’t breathe.

 

He pushes himself off of me and flops onto his back beside me gasping for air like a landed fish. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I didn’t mean-” he starts.

 

I place my fingers over his lips, silencing him.  “Shhh, I was right there with you,” I say.

 

Angel turns on his side and gathers me in his arms. He pulls me back against his body and buries his nose in the nape of my neck.  I smile and close my eyes. I can’t think of a better place to be.

 

*

 

 

When I wake up I know it’s later. I can’t define how much later but it just feels later. I smile. Angel’s arm is wrapped around me. His hand is resting on my chest, fingers curled over my heart, almost like he’s keeping track of my heartbeats even in my sleep.  I slip out from underneath his arm and go to the door. I crack it open and peek out.  Twilight covers everything and gives it a soft, muzzy feeling of security.

 

I turn to gather my things and am surprised by Angel standing behind me.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I woke up with you gone and came to see what you were doing,” he says.

 

I smile at his phrasing, woke up with you gone, almost like we’re a we, a real we like a husband and wife we. I blush slightly and tuck my hair behind my ear.

 

“I should get going. Giles is waiting for me at the library,” I whisper and look up into his eyes.

 

“Yeah, thanks for staying with me today,” he says.

 

I nod and tiptoe to kiss him. His hand goes behind my head, pulling me up and closer to him. I mewl a little and wrap my arms around him. He lets me go abruptly.

 

“So this is me, going,” I say and snatch my backpack up from the floor.  I sling it over my shoulders and crack open the door again.  Angel grabs my wrist lightly and presses a kiss to the pulse point.

 

            “After I meet with Giles, I’ll go patrolling. If you feel like it, I could use the company,” I say.

 

            Angel nods and smiles. “I’ll see you then,” he kisses my knuckles and somehow I’m back in his arms, his mouth on mine. He nibbles at my bottom lip and releases me, almost shoving me away.

 

            “You’ve got to go. Giles is waiting on you, but I’ll find you tonight. Be safe, Ioniun,” he says. He reaches out to touch me again and then draws back almost as if he knows all it would take is a touch and I’d be back in his arms, back in his bed faster then I could draw a breath.

 

            I nod. “Giles is waiting. See you later,” I say and rush out the door before I reach a point of no return.

 

            I toss my stake up in the air as I walk along the side walk and let out a whoop of joy. Ioniun Angel loves me. Angel loves me. Angel loves me.

 

            “Angel loves me!” I shout to the darkening sky. I giggle and can’t help myself. I feel like I’m drunk. Angel loves me.