Title: The Cat's Pyjamas
Author: Doyle
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Rating: PG-13
Notes: B/A fluffython entry for flyergirl. The request was for 2-5 years in the future, some involvement of a kitten.
"What's in there?" Angel asked, frowning at the shoebox in his girlfriend's arms with trepidation. She leaned up to kiss him hello and the box mewed. Oh. A kitten. Well, he consoled himself, that wasn't as bad as if it had actually been shoes, because then he would have had to look as if he knew what she was talking about when she tried to convince him these were the greatest shoes in the history of mankind, with their straps and heels and… Angel's footwear-vocabulary ran out.
"You got a cat?"
Buffy lifted the lid. A tiny scrap of grey fur peered up at them. "I found her on the porch," she said, stroking the top of the kitten's head with one finger. "Someone must have abandoned her. Aren't you the cutest thing? Yes, you are." Something weird and disturbing had happened to her voice. He remembered Cordy and Fred talking to newborn Connor that way (and would deny that he'd ever done so). From Buffy, who he'd seen take off a Greloath demon's head and all eight of its killing spines single-handed less than a week before, it was deeply bizarre.
He knew she had a thing for small, helpless animals – he was very proud of himself for not making the obvious crack about her ex-boyfriends – but she'd never brought one home before. The last person to present him with an 'adorable' stray had been Dru, and Spike proved that thing about them never going away once you gave them names.
"So… are we keeping it?" he asked cautiously, only realizing he'd stepped on a landmine when she shot him a horrified look. "We are," he said, nodding vigorously. "Good. That's – great." He'd been around animals before. Well, he'd eaten them, but he just had to not do that and leave the rest to Buffy, right? He tried for an expression that said 'congratulations on your new pet' but also 'please don't ask me to hold it.'
She beamed, giving the kitten one last nuzzle along its tousled fur. "Anyway," she said. "Breakfast."
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door. The kitchen was at the back of the house and Buffy followed along behind him, box and kitten still nestled in her arms, as he got himself blood from the fridge and heated it in the microwave. She fixed herself cereal, talking about the nest she'd cleaned out the night before and something funny Willow had said on the phone. His free hand was resting on the table and she twined her fingers in his, hardly seeming to notice she was doing it.
He wondered, sometimes, if they'd been this easy and comfortable with each other ten years ago, or if that had needed time to grow. He'd have asked what she thought, but that could only lead to jokes about cookies and their agreement on that (he didn't mention dough of any kind, she didn't mention The Immortal, ever) was still tenuous.
"What are you doing today?" he asked.
"First I'm taking Raisinette to get her shots."
Angel looked askance at the tiny cat, which yawned, apparently sharing his view of the name.
"Then," she said, one foot inching up his leg beneath the table, "I'm going to spend the whole day in bed."
He quickly decided she could call her cat whatever the hell she liked.
--
His offices were about fifteen minutes from the house, not far from the Hyperion and on the other side of the city from the wasteland that had been the old site of Wolfram & Hart. He would have liked something closer but Buffy had fallen in love with the house, and Wes and Illyria were always there to deal with any emergencies that happened when he was at home or en route.
Harmony held out a couple of manila files that he snagged from her as he passed the desk. "AI-New York checked in an hour ago," she said. "Lindsey says he's had zero visions and it's all quiet on the eastern front." She read that carefully from her pad; obviously a direct quote, and one she didn't get.
"That's always good news." He scanned the faxed report. Eve's cramped handwriting was hard to make out. "Why does Spike want a goat?"
She craned her neck to see over the top of the page. "Pretty sure it says coat. Something about a clothes-dissolving demon?"
He was hit with a mental picture of Spike, Gunn and Lindsey fighting a creature that could render them naked, and had to push it away very fast. He shut the file with a snap. "Is Wesley in yet?"
"In his office, boss." She shuffled the post-its on her desk. "Connor called about dates for his graduation. He says he'll call back."
"Okay, thanks."
"Oh! And Buffy called. She says to ask you why do you even have a cellphone if you never switch it on, and to tell you to stop by the pet store on the way home and get a collar." Harmony looked him over critically. "This is me being strictly non-judgemental but you do kind of have a thick neck, maybe you should go to a leather store instead?"
"I don't have a thick neck!" he protested, before he remembered that there was a bigger issue. "And it's not for me. Buffy adopted a stray cat." He thought of something. "Why would you think I'd be the one wearing the collar, anyway?"
Wesley, who had chosen that moment to emerge from his office, simply picked up some papers from Harmony's desk and exited again with no comment except a pair of pointedly raised eyebrows.
"I think it's nice Buffy has a pet," Harmony said.
"Yeah," Angel said, mollified.
"I guess when human girls get to a certain age they get that broody thing," she said thoughtfully. "Like that biological clock. God, so glad I'm a vampire, babies are just not my thing. I mean, I've never even eaten a baby."
When had they started talking about babies? "When did we start talking about babies?"
"And Buffy's so tiny," Harmony went on, twirling her neon-pink pen between her fingers. "Actually, it's probably a big relief to know she's never going to have kids. With a normal guy there'd be all that wondering about should she have a baby, what about the slayer thing, would she live to see them grow up, blah. But with you it's like, sorry, off the menu."
"Yeah," Angel said, too distracted to point out that she'd been talking to his son only hours before. "Harmony, hold my calls."
--
"You're home early." Buffy was on her stomach on the living room floor, dangling a bright piece of wool in front of Raisinette's nose. The kitten pounced, its momentum carrying it onto its back. Buffy laughed and rubbed its tummy as it wiggled its legs in the air.
Angel sat on the carpet beside her, his hand going lightly to the small of her back. Thumb to the tip of his little finger, it almost spanned her waist. He sometimes forgot how small she was. Not that it made her in any way vulnerable; she had kicked his ass before, and they could have done with her around five years ago when Illyria had been going nuclear.
She rolled over onto her back and he grinned despite himself at the similarity to the cat's pose. "You look all angst-y."
"I'm okay," he said, gently rubbing his thumb across her smooth stomach. "Connor's graduating from Stanford next week. He told his college some story about being adopted and his birth parents wanting to come, he says he can get us tickets." Not wanting to put pressure on her he said, "Or I can go by myself…"
"No," she said, "I'd love to go. You know I love Connor."
He looked at the ground. "Did you ever want kids?" Did, not do, start with the safer questions.
"Are we back on this again?" She smiled quizzically up at him, catching his hand in both hers, stroking it. "Tell me you don't need more horrific tales of childhood fish-killage, because I don't know if the Council pays me enough to cover the therapy."
He shrugged a shoulder. "I was just… wondering."
"About the part where I'm suddenly physically older than you were when you got turned?"
"I don't care about that."
"And I don't care that we're not going to be parents," she insisted, tugging him down to kiss and keeping him there even when they broke apart. "Isn't this enough? This? Us?"
"It's perfect," he murmured, pressing his lips reverently against her mouth, her soft skin. To have her like this, and to be allowed that – it was so much more than he'd ever deserve, even if he spent the rest of eternity averting their seemingly-annual apocalypse. "I love you," he said, and it didn't feel big or grand enough but she smiled anyway and said it back.
Something soft nudged his leg. He didn't notice at first, too caught up in Buffy sucking his lower lip into her mouth as she started to work the buttons of his shirt, but when the pressure became too insistent to ignore he twisted to look over his shoulder. Raisinette butted its head against him again, harder.
"Hey," he complained.
Buffy was laughing at him. He tried a stern expression, which made her giggle harder. Not a big surprise. He could barely inspire respect in Harmony, these days. "How would we cope with a baby?" she finally wheezed out between attacks of laughter. "A kitten manages to disrupt our sex-life."
Angel quickly glanced over at the stairs, working out how long it would take such a tiny little animal to scale those high steps. Buffy shrieked when he scooped her up. Vampire speed, not to be underestimated.
Minutes later, Raisinette was aware of some very strange noises high above her head, but she just flicked her tail disdainfully and went back to stalking the enthralling fluffy wool across the carpet.
END
Author: Doyle
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Rating: PG-13
Notes: B/A fluffython entry for flyergirl. The request was for 2-5 years in the future, some involvement of a kitten.
"What's in there?" Angel asked, frowning at the shoebox in his girlfriend's arms with trepidation. She leaned up to kiss him hello and the box mewed. Oh. A kitten. Well, he consoled himself, that wasn't as bad as if it had actually been shoes, because then he would have had to look as if he knew what she was talking about when she tried to convince him these were the greatest shoes in the history of mankind, with their straps and heels and… Angel's footwear-vocabulary ran out.
"You got a cat?"
Buffy lifted the lid. A tiny scrap of grey fur peered up at them. "I found her on the porch," she said, stroking the top of the kitten's head with one finger. "Someone must have abandoned her. Aren't you the cutest thing? Yes, you are." Something weird and disturbing had happened to her voice. He remembered Cordy and Fred talking to newborn Connor that way (and would deny that he'd ever done so). From Buffy, who he'd seen take off a Greloath demon's head and all eight of its killing spines single-handed less than a week before, it was deeply bizarre.
He knew she had a thing for small, helpless animals – he was very proud of himself for not making the obvious crack about her ex-boyfriends – but she'd never brought one home before. The last person to present him with an 'adorable' stray had been Dru, and Spike proved that thing about them never going away once you gave them names.
"So… are we keeping it?" he asked cautiously, only realizing he'd stepped on a landmine when she shot him a horrified look. "We are," he said, nodding vigorously. "Good. That's – great." He'd been around animals before. Well, he'd eaten them, but he just had to not do that and leave the rest to Buffy, right? He tried for an expression that said 'congratulations on your new pet' but also 'please don't ask me to hold it.'
She beamed, giving the kitten one last nuzzle along its tousled fur. "Anyway," she said. "Breakfast."
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door. The kitchen was at the back of the house and Buffy followed along behind him, box and kitten still nestled in her arms, as he got himself blood from the fridge and heated it in the microwave. She fixed herself cereal, talking about the nest she'd cleaned out the night before and something funny Willow had said on the phone. His free hand was resting on the table and she twined her fingers in his, hardly seeming to notice she was doing it.
He wondered, sometimes, if they'd been this easy and comfortable with each other ten years ago, or if that had needed time to grow. He'd have asked what she thought, but that could only lead to jokes about cookies and their agreement on that (he didn't mention dough of any kind, she didn't mention The Immortal, ever) was still tenuous.
"What are you doing today?" he asked.
"First I'm taking Raisinette to get her shots."
Angel looked askance at the tiny cat, which yawned, apparently sharing his view of the name.
"Then," she said, one foot inching up his leg beneath the table, "I'm going to spend the whole day in bed."
He quickly decided she could call her cat whatever the hell she liked.
--
His offices were about fifteen minutes from the house, not far from the Hyperion and on the other side of the city from the wasteland that had been the old site of Wolfram & Hart. He would have liked something closer but Buffy had fallen in love with the house, and Wes and Illyria were always there to deal with any emergencies that happened when he was at home or en route.
Harmony held out a couple of manila files that he snagged from her as he passed the desk. "AI-New York checked in an hour ago," she said. "Lindsey says he's had zero visions and it's all quiet on the eastern front." She read that carefully from her pad; obviously a direct quote, and one she didn't get.
"That's always good news." He scanned the faxed report. Eve's cramped handwriting was hard to make out. "Why does Spike want a goat?"
She craned her neck to see over the top of the page. "Pretty sure it says coat. Something about a clothes-dissolving demon?"
He was hit with a mental picture of Spike, Gunn and Lindsey fighting a creature that could render them naked, and had to push it away very fast. He shut the file with a snap. "Is Wesley in yet?"
"In his office, boss." She shuffled the post-its on her desk. "Connor called about dates for his graduation. He says he'll call back."
"Okay, thanks."
"Oh! And Buffy called. She says to ask you why do you even have a cellphone if you never switch it on, and to tell you to stop by the pet store on the way home and get a collar." Harmony looked him over critically. "This is me being strictly non-judgemental but you do kind of have a thick neck, maybe you should go to a leather store instead?"
"I don't have a thick neck!" he protested, before he remembered that there was a bigger issue. "And it's not for me. Buffy adopted a stray cat." He thought of something. "Why would you think I'd be the one wearing the collar, anyway?"
Wesley, who had chosen that moment to emerge from his office, simply picked up some papers from Harmony's desk and exited again with no comment except a pair of pointedly raised eyebrows.
"I think it's nice Buffy has a pet," Harmony said.
"Yeah," Angel said, mollified.
"I guess when human girls get to a certain age they get that broody thing," she said thoughtfully. "Like that biological clock. God, so glad I'm a vampire, babies are just not my thing. I mean, I've never even eaten a baby."
When had they started talking about babies? "When did we start talking about babies?"
"And Buffy's so tiny," Harmony went on, twirling her neon-pink pen between her fingers. "Actually, it's probably a big relief to know she's never going to have kids. With a normal guy there'd be all that wondering about should she have a baby, what about the slayer thing, would she live to see them grow up, blah. But with you it's like, sorry, off the menu."
"Yeah," Angel said, too distracted to point out that she'd been talking to his son only hours before. "Harmony, hold my calls."
--
"You're home early." Buffy was on her stomach on the living room floor, dangling a bright piece of wool in front of Raisinette's nose. The kitten pounced, its momentum carrying it onto its back. Buffy laughed and rubbed its tummy as it wiggled its legs in the air.
Angel sat on the carpet beside her, his hand going lightly to the small of her back. Thumb to the tip of his little finger, it almost spanned her waist. He sometimes forgot how small she was. Not that it made her in any way vulnerable; she had kicked his ass before, and they could have done with her around five years ago when Illyria had been going nuclear.
She rolled over onto her back and he grinned despite himself at the similarity to the cat's pose. "You look all angst-y."
"I'm okay," he said, gently rubbing his thumb across her smooth stomach. "Connor's graduating from Stanford next week. He told his college some story about being adopted and his birth parents wanting to come, he says he can get us tickets." Not wanting to put pressure on her he said, "Or I can go by myself…"
"No," she said, "I'd love to go. You know I love Connor."
He looked at the ground. "Did you ever want kids?" Did, not do, start with the safer questions.
"Are we back on this again?" She smiled quizzically up at him, catching his hand in both hers, stroking it. "Tell me you don't need more horrific tales of childhood fish-killage, because I don't know if the Council pays me enough to cover the therapy."
He shrugged a shoulder. "I was just… wondering."
"About the part where I'm suddenly physically older than you were when you got turned?"
"I don't care about that."
"And I don't care that we're not going to be parents," she insisted, tugging him down to kiss and keeping him there even when they broke apart. "Isn't this enough? This? Us?"
"It's perfect," he murmured, pressing his lips reverently against her mouth, her soft skin. To have her like this, and to be allowed that – it was so much more than he'd ever deserve, even if he spent the rest of eternity averting their seemingly-annual apocalypse. "I love you," he said, and it didn't feel big or grand enough but she smiled anyway and said it back.
Something soft nudged his leg. He didn't notice at first, too caught up in Buffy sucking his lower lip into her mouth as she started to work the buttons of his shirt, but when the pressure became too insistent to ignore he twisted to look over his shoulder. Raisinette butted its head against him again, harder.
"Hey," he complained.
Buffy was laughing at him. He tried a stern expression, which made her giggle harder. Not a big surprise. He could barely inspire respect in Harmony, these days. "How would we cope with a baby?" she finally wheezed out between attacks of laughter. "A kitten manages to disrupt our sex-life."
Angel quickly glanced over at the stairs, working out how long it would take such a tiny little animal to scale those high steps. Buffy shrieked when he scooped her up. Vampire speed, not to be underestimated.
Minutes later, Raisinette was aware of some very strange noises high above her head, but she just flicked her tail disdainfully and went back to stalking the enthralling fluffy wool across the carpet.
END