Title: Lipstick and Coffee

Summary: Btvs S2 pre S/I Buffy wants a normal night with her not so normal boyfriend.  Just a little fluffy ficlet. My friend Lisa gave me the words coffee, music and lipstick. This is what came of it.

 

 

 

            The music was only sub par, but it didn’t matter because the company was excellent.  Buffy smiled as the aforementioned company threaded his way through the crowd at the Bronze. He was carrying two cups of steaming coffee held high over the heads of the other Bronze goers.  He slipped into a chair next to hers and pushed the coffee mug into her hands.

 

            Buffy took a drink of the frothy, whipped cream confection. “Yum, Chocolate cherry mochachinos. What’d you get?”

 

            “Coffee, black.”

 

            Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Well that’s no fun. We’ve got to work on adding flavor, excitement to your life.”

 

            He chuckled. “No thanks. Being attacked by multiple vampires and a couple of high school students is excitement enough for me these days.”

 

            “That’s not excitement. That’s welcome to the life of Buffy Summers. This is nice though. I mean, me, you, the Bronze.  It’s good to have some down time.”

 

            He was still getting used to crowds. Thirty years in an alley alone tended to make the crush of people, the pound of the music, a little overwhelming. He could brave it, for Buffy. They had been patrolling in the cemetery when Buffy had started with the pout. She wanted a night out, a normal night with her not so normal creature of the night boyfriend.

 

            Angel, formerly the scourge of Europe, currently the only vampire with a soul, had resisted temptations and tortures of a wide variety. Buffy’s pout completely undid him. He’d promise her the moon, the stars and forever when she pouted. He had promised them, in his heart.

 

            “Come on, dance with me. Its part of the normal thing we’re doing tonight.” Buffy got to her feet, leaving her coffee and tugged at his hand.

 

            “Buffy, I really don’t…” he gestured to the dance floor.

 

            “Don’t think of it as dancing; think of it as holding me plus music.”

 

            He shook his head and grinned. She was the most illogical girl he had ever met.  He dutifully followed her out on the dance floor during a slow song. Amusingly enough, the look he wore on his face wasn’t much different from the teenaged boys out here resignedly dancing with their girlfriends.

 

Buffy wound her arms around his neck. He could feel her breath, soft and warm against his skin. He closed his eyes and pulled her into his embrace, taking a deep unnecessary breath. Buffy smelled like hope.

 

“See this isn’t so bad, is it?” She turned her face up to his.  He chastised himself for cupping her cheek, pulling her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. He chastised himself for the brush of lips against lips. He chastised himself, and he didn’t care.

 

Buffy pulled away, her breath coming in hot, sweet pants. Angel wanted to pull her back, breathe her in.

 

“Wow that was…dancing…uhm…”

 

Angel grinned. “Yeah, it was.”

 

It was funny how her presence could make the world fade away. It was funny how she made him feel like he needed to breathe.

 

“Hey, guys!” Willow bounced up to the couple. “Xander grabbed us a table in the corner.”

 

“Will, hey.” Buffy smiled, half relieved to see the red head. Angel did this thing where he made her world fade away and it was amazing, but it was also hard to breathe. Her chest got tight and she couldn’t quite get her breath.  The other half of her didn’t care if she breathed when Angel was around.

 

The trio weaved through the crowd toward the back of the Bronze. There was a grouping of couches. Xander had claimed half of a love seat for himself. Willow scrunched up next to him. Angel sat on the couch and Buffy curled up into him.

 

“Hey, Dead Boy that glistening peach lipstick is really working for you.” Xander smirked and gestured to Angel.

 

Angel’s eyes went wide and swiped at his mouth, rubbing away all traces of lipstick.

 

“At least he doesn’t know the name of the color,” Buffy teased.