Five Times Buffy and Angel Kissed

S J Smith

Rating: Teenish

Summary: With a title like that, you need a summary?

Disclaimer: I'm so not Joss Whedon.

A.N.: Written for Maren.

Angel hadn't expected to see her – hadn't even realized, exactly, where he and Connor were in Europe until his son dragged him off the train.

"For a top predator," Connor had told him, "you're a heavy sleeper."

They chased down a pack of demons to a night club and managed to get into a brawl that would've done Liam proud. And after it was over, as Angel was congratulating himself and Connor on a job well done, a right cross came out of nowhere, pitching him to the ground.

"Wow, Dad," Connor said, with one of his toothy smiles as Buffy stood over him, seething, "lemmee guess – some pissed off ex-girlfriend who's still attracted to you?"

"One," Buffy said, pointing at Connor without even looking at him, "I'm not 'some' pissed off ex-girlfriend, I'm the pissed off ex-girlfriend and two, I'm not still attracted to him."

Her 'three' was cut off by Angel rising fluidly to his feet, taking her off guard as he caught her face between his hands, dropping a light kiss on her lips.

"Uh huh," Connor said, grinning wider at Buffy's flushed expression as she pulled Angel back down for a deeper kiss. "Not attracted at all."

"A son?" Buffy's face twisted up in confusion, looking Connor up and down as he danced like the whitest white boy in the club. Angel thought it looked like someone had actually dumped a live eel in his son's shorts but who was he to judge? It would've been nice if Connor had gotten Darla's grace on the dance floor but if the world was fair…wait, not going any farther down that line of thought. "How is that possible?" Buffy was asking, breaking into his thoughts.

Shrugging, Angel said, "Same old, same old. Another prophecy," and he and Buffy exchanged long-suffering looks at that.

"So." Buffy twined her hands together, stretching them out in front of her. "Anything interesting going on in your life? Besides the son. I mean, what made you decide to travel the continent?"

"Well." Angel took an unnecessary breath, thinking back to L.A., and the battle, and how his friends had died and that that was his story and right now, he didn't particularly want to share it. "I thought Connor should see it and I needed a chance to get away."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him and Angel met them deliberately. She must have caught something from his expression because she suddenly reached over, taking his hand and bringing it to her mouth, planting a light kiss on his scarred-soon-to-be-healed knuckles.

"What's that for?" Angel asked lightly as she laid his hand back down but kept her own on top of it.

Shrugging, Buffy let her hair slide back over her shoulders turning to watch Angel's son gyrate on the dance floor. "Just something I felt like doing."

The invitation startled Angel, though, in retrospect, he guessed it shouldn't have. Faith and Dawn both had some sort of weird fascination for Connor and Angel really didn't want to know what his son was doing staying in contact with both of them. The casual warning that one was a Slayer and the other the sister of a Slayer did little to quench Connor's natural…ah…enthusiasm in that department and Angel thought, with more than a little bit of horror, that some things definitely ran in the family. At least Connor wasn't likely to kill some nice Gypsy girl and earn an everlasting curse, though Angel wasn't sure that getting involved with both Faith and Dawn wasn't some sort of equivalency.

"New Year's Eve?" he asked, looking up at Connor's toothy grin.

"Hell, yeah, Dad. Times Square in NYC, and Faith says the demons are planning to take over the world." Connor thumped his fist in his open palm. "It'll be wicked." More proof that his son was definitely spending too much time with Faith, the word 'wicked' in his vocabulary. Before Angel could point that out, Connor dangled the bait as cagily as any fisherman. "And since Dawn's going to be there, so will Buffy." His eyes lit with an evil glee, he said, "You don't really want to miss seeing Buffy, do you, Dad?"

So, that was why, while some stand-in for Dick Clark and the city of New York counted down the seconds to midnight, a band of Slayers, a witch, a mystic Key, a couple of humans, a boy born to a pair of vampires and one of the said vampires fought a horde of demons intent on releasing their particular version of hell on said city. And when they won, because really, these demons were amateurs, despite what everyone had warned, Angel swept Buffy up in his arms, kissing her at the stroke of midnight.

It was an amazingly stupid argument and, as far as Buffy was concerned, had gone on long enough, thankyew vurra much. Stomping into the room where the two vampires had been holed up for the entire day, she cleared her throat. Loudly. Loud enough to interrupt the bickering, name calling and otherwise childish behavior that she and the others had been subjected to all. Day. Long.

"Buffy," Angel started, "we were just," at the same time Spike began, "Slayer, the poof here," and they both lost whatever they were about to say when Buffy reached down and hauled them both to their feet (although it was a longer haul regarding Angel than Spike).

"I don't care. Really." She ignored the mutual pouts – seriously, men were men were men, no matter if they were human or demons. "And the argument? Total stupidity."

"Now wait jus' a minute," Spike blustered.

"It isn't stupid," Angel grumbled.

"Oh, please." Buffy rolled her eyes in emphasis. "It's been eight hours." She gave each of the vampires a shake. "Eight. And you're still arguing about the same thing."

"It's important!" they both whined in chorus, making Buffy want to smack their heads together. Instead, she jerked Angel down and pulled Spike closer, both of them wearing matching expressions of sudden terror. Ah, yes, boys, don't forget that pissing off a Slayer is pretty much Bad News to vampires.

"I'll settle this right now," Buffy said, kissing first one, then the other, before shoving both of them back. Now the matching looks were befuddled with a side order of lust. Buffy folded her arms. "See? I'm the best kisser, not either of you."

As far as clichés went, it was pretty much the biggie – sunset, beach, a picnic with champagne. Buffy thought it was pretty much the real deal except that the sunset wasn't real and neither was the beach; just the sounds of the ocean playing from Dawnie's current choice of movie – who knew that she'd get hooked on old bad movies like iBig Wednesday/i, anyway? And weren't all those actors in it dead already?

At least the picnic was real, even if it was inside on the floor on a sissel rug covered with a pretty blanket, and the champagne was nose-tickling the way it was supposed to. And she had a handsome boyfriend with her, one whose shoulder she leaned on while he fed her strawberries.

And if she leaned up and kissed his jaw, at least that was real.