Title: Harmony in Blue
Fandom: Btvs
Summary: Takes place
sometime future, Angel looks
all over Europe for his
future. 1 5 minute ficlet.
The word was abstract.
She’s standing in front of
the painting of Rouen
Cathedral, Harmony in Blue
by Claude Monet when I
finally catch up to her. I
stop a moment and watch her.
The museum lighting picks up
the golden in her skin, her
hair and makes her seem to
glow from within. She’s
wearing a blue sweater and a
flowing blue skirt. Her hair
cascades all around her. Her
arms are wrapped around her
body. This is how I always
imagined she would look when
I finally found her,
ethereal.
I swallow past
the lump in my throat and
command my legs to move.
They refuse. I’ve searched
all over Europe for her now
that I’ve finally found her,
my feet are frozen to the
floor. I struggle for a
moment and slide one foot
forward, then another and
another. I’m finally
standing behind her so close
I can feel the heat
radiating off her body. Her
skin was always so hot to
me.
“I’ve looked all
over Europe for you,” I say.
“Giles told me I
needed some culture, so I’m
getting here getting all
cultured,” she responds.
“Buffy,” I
start.
“I like this
one. It’s pretty, kinda
abstract though,” she says.
“It’s
Impressionist,” I say.
I tuck my hands
in my pockets because if I
don’t I’m going to reach out
and fold her into my arms. I
don’t know if it’d be wanted
attention or not. She ambles
slowly to the next painting,
another Monet. She tilts her
head and I watch the
expressions on her face, the
way the light hits the
various planes and angles.
She’s infinitely more
interesting then a Monet,
and much more lovely.
“What took you
so long?” She asks.
I furrow my
brow. “Buffy, you-did you
forget your speech about
cookies and baking? I
thought I was respecting
your distance,” I say.
“Don’t you know,
Angel when it comes to you,
I never want you to stay
away. Sometimes I just think
I need to say those things.
No means stay and all that,”
she says.
I shake my head
and chuckle slightly. Only
Buffy could say that and it
make sense. “Sorry, I’m a
little rusty on my Buffy
logic,” I say.
She nods. “We’ll
have to get you up to
speed.”
A smile spreads
across my face and I
automatically perform a soul
check, making sure I’m not
quite happy enough to lose
it. I don’t have to do those
anymore; it was part of
averting THE apocalypse.
They couldn’t give my
Shanshu, I’d signed that
away but they could bind my
soul.
“And why aren’t
you touching me?” She asks.
That’s all I had
to hear, all she had to ask.
I’m touching her, kissing
her and I’m never going to
let go, not this time.