Title: That Flu Thing

Summary: Human Angel Fluff. Written for Buffy Survivor the words were blanket, soup and tissue. 

Rating: PG

 

 

 

            “I’m dying.”

 

            A smile plays at the corners of my lips and I struggle to tamp it down. “You aren’t dying and if you think about it hard, it probably doesn’t feel anything like dying.”

 

            “I have thought about it and its worse then dying.”

 

            His pout is adorable. I’m not used to seeing the little boy side of him and I thank the Powers that Be that I’m allowed to be here, to see this. I curl up on the bed beside him. “Angel, honey, it’s the flu. Humans get the flu from time to time.”

 

            “You should get away from me. I heard Giles clucking about it being highly contagious.”

 

            Still with the pout.

 

            “Slayer here, semi impervious to flus, colds and other human maladies…like my new word? It’s a Giles word.” I tuck myself deeper into his side. Apocalypses, goddesses, fates and an ocean haven’t kept us apart, I’m not going to let something like the flu chase me away from him.

 

            “In that case, I take it back.”

 

            “Take what back?” I ask absently, my mind is sort of drift-y thinking about all the things we’ve overcome to be in this place.

 

            “My humanity.”

 

            I smack him hard on the arm.

 

            “OW! Dying here, and you’re contributing to the cause!” He shrieks and rubs at his arm.

 

            “Don’t you –ever- utter those words again. You don’t know who’s listening, who’s bored and listening! Take it back, not IT, what you said.” This icy rush of fear shoots through me. I sit up, glance around the room, back bowed, ready for a fight, just in case.

 

            “I’m sorry. I love my humanity. I adore and cherish my humanity. I in no way wish for it to be taken away. I love being human.” Angel has this contrite expression on his face that is another thing I rarely see. I know it’s because he recognizes the terror on my face.

 

            “Happy now?” He asks, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and tugging me back down into the bed with him.

 

            “It’ll do.” Now I’m the one pouting. I’m just scared. My dreams have a way of shattering when I least expect it. I’m guarding this dream better then Fort Knox. That makes my brow furrow. “How well guarded is Fort Knox? You know I’m not even sure what Fort Knox is…”

 

            “It’s an army base in Kentucky.  Most of the United States gold is housed there.”

 

            I knew he’d know all that. He’s Angel, a walking encyclopedia of history. I pout. “So it’s really well guarded?”

 

            “Yeah, I’d say so.”

 

            “Well that’s just…an army base and gold? I’m gonna start guarding my dream better than that and better than thing in England that those guys guard.”

 

            That makes Angel smile. “You mean the Queen?”

 

            I shrug. “Or you know, her things.”

 

            “What dream?” He asks.

 

            “The you being human dream.”

 

            “Buffy, it’s not a dream. I am human. I have the plague to prove it,” he grouses.

 

            I giggle. “You don’t have the plague. It’s the flu, say it with me. Flu. Like birds flew but with a u. Oh! I almost forgot. I got you feeling better things.”

 

            “Feeling better things? Like a gun to put to my head, or something that will knock me out for the next week?”

 

            He sounds truly miserable and it brings out the mommy in me…okay so since I’m contemplating whether jumping his bones will give me the flu or not…maybe not the mommy. Naughty nurse?

 

            “No knocking you out, that would take the fun out of you being sick.”

 

            “There’s fun in being sick?” He grumbles at me and shoots me one of those glares that have been known to send lesser demons running.

 

            “Yup and we’ll get to that. First your feeling better things.” I reach over the side of the bed and grab a bright gift bag.

 

            “This is the Flu Sack. It’s full of things guaranteed to make you feel better.” I reach in and pull out a fuzzy, fluffy, deep red blanket. I unfold it and tuck it around him. “Dawn swears a fluffy blanket makes her feel less icky.”

 

            The next item is a box of tissues, the kind with lotion. “For that sniffley nose, Willow’s contribution.” I set them on the nightstand.

 

            Next is a stack of X-Men comic books. “From Xander, he swears by them and Willow confirmed that every time Xander has ever been sick, he made her read hours of X-Men.”

 

            “Xander is contributing to my well being? Are you sure they won’t keep me sick?”

 

            I grin at him. “He doesn’t hate you…much. Now that you’re human and with the staying…you’re much more on his Good For Buffy list then the Bad For Buffy list.”

 

            Angel smirks. “So glad to know I’ve switched lists.”

 

            I dig in my sack for the next item.  It’s a plastic container full of yummy goodness. “From Giles, homemade chicken noodle soup, a time honored flu-fixer.”

 

            Food gets his attention. Angel loves food now that he’s human. “Are you sure there’s enough?” He glances at the container.

 

            I giggle. “I’m under strict orders not to touch it. It’s for sick people only. One more feeling better thing…”

 

            I dig in the bottom of the bag and get the book I bought him out. I hand it to him. “Gunn said you lost most of your books and things when Wolfram and Hart went crash. It’s not a first edition or even a hundredth edition. It’s just a Barnes and Noble copy.” I hold it out.

 

            “A Mid Summers Night Dream.”

 

            That smile, its worth the forty five minutes I spent in Barnes and Noble trying to decide which Shakespeare to get.

 

            “This is one of my favorites of his. It’s whimsical, full of fantasy and make believe.” Angel caresses the cover of the book and I’m almost envious, until his turns that gaze on me.  I love the way Angel looks at me, like I’m the most precious thing in the room.

 

            He pats the bed beside him and I snuggle up next to him, pulling his fuzzy blanket up to my chin.  “Read it to me?”

 

            I grin. “Gotta do what the sick person wants. At least that’s one of Dawn’s rules for sick people.”

 

            “This flu thing…it’s not so bad,” he says with a grin.

 

            He’s right…it’s not.