-1Title: Untouched

Pairing: B/S

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Buffy is an 18-year old Freshman at UC Sunnydale and dating the hottest guy on campus, Angel Douglas. Unfortunately, Angel's less-than-fiery ways leave more to be desired in the "untouched" blonde. When Thanksgiving break rolls around and Angel brings Buffy to meet his family back home--including his black-sheep step-brother, Spike--chaos (and a little smut, perhaps?) ensues.

A/N: I'm sorry the first chapter is so Bangel-centric, but it needs to be to set up the plot. I promise it won't last too long.

Chapter 1

Mmmm. Buffy Summers stretched her legs out against the ice blue comforter and ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair. She smiled at the beefy, attractive man who was sitting at the edge of the twin bed, rubbing her left foot with deft fingers. "This is heaven," she mumbled, wiggling herself up into a seated position. She tugged her foot out of his encompassing position and tossed both legs over his lap.

"What's the matter?" Angel Douglas placed his hand gingerly on her bare kneecap and frowned.

"Nothing--it was nice--I just…" Buffy leaned forward and kissed his smooth cheek, pressing one hand against his muscled bicep. He turned his head, smiling, and kissed her on the lips, lingering for a second before pulling away and smiling plainly at her bright green eyes and full-toothed smile.

"I should probably go." Angel twirled a wavy lock of her blonde hair between his thumb and forefinger before releasing it.

"What? Why? You've only been over for like twenty minutes…" Buffy frowned and jutted out her lower lip. Angel was always leaving just when things got good!

"I know, babe. But I've got practice tomorrow at 7am and I really want to get a good night's sleep." Buffy sighed. Practice. Of course. Her boyfriend lived and breathed football. She couldn't really blame him--he was the school's celebrated linebacker, a perk she often enjoyed at parties (no cover! Free drinks!) But his dedication to the game also required Buffy to play the role of complacent football girlfriend--a role she often hated. For one thing, she hated football. A tonsillectomy was higher on her to-do list than watching a bunch of testosterone-induced men run into each other and grunt.

"But Angel--you could stay, you know? Just leave in the morning." Buffy scooted backwards, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and smiled at him suggestively. Angel looked at her softly and brought a hand to her now-blushing cheek.

"Oh baby, it's just not the time. I want it to be special."

Special? I'm an 18-year old virgin who has been dating the school's most popular guy for seven months--anytime would be special! She felt like shouting. But she didn't. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and pursed her lips.

"I know. I'll see you tomorrow night." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

"Sleep tight. I love you, Buffy."

"I love you too, Angel."

And with that, he was gone.

Buffy flopped back onto the extra-long twin bed and frowned. She'd met Angel shortly after graduation, when she'd attended her first college party. The older man had immediately made a bee-line for her at the party, offering her drinks and lathering on the compliments. She'd assumed he was the typical college guy, trying to get her drunk and willing, but he'd been the perfect gentlemen. Without so much as a hug, he'd gotten her number and called her up the very next day. And from then on, it'd been bliss--sort of. Angel took her on romantic dates, always called when he said he would, and made her feel like a princess. But they'd been together seven months without much more than a make out session--and even those were oft-fueled by alcohol on his part. Buffy had dated in high-school, but it was never serious. It was as if somewhere along the line, she forget to fall in love (and lose her virginity). But now she was in love, with the latter part no less solved.

Just as Buffy had resigned herself to a quiet evening grumbling away her misfortune, the door to the dorm room swung open and her red-headed best friend bounded in excitedly.

"Hi, Buffy!"

"Hey, Will."

"What's with the frowny-face?" Willow sat down on her bed and tugged her legs up to her chin.

"Angel."

"Uh-oh…did you guys have your first fight?"

"Nope. No fights. Nothing else, either."

"Oooh." Willow nodded understandingly. She'd been the leader of "Buffy Virginity Watch" for the last seven months and had dutifully supported Buffy's efforts to further her relationship with Angel.

"What if he's not attracted to me?" Buffy stood up and walked over to the mirror, peering critically. "Is it my hair?" She pulled her mass of blonde hair into a tight, high ponytail. "Maybe if I looked more like a cheerleader?"

"Of course not! You have nice hair! Beautiful Buffy hair!"

"Then what is it. He's a guy, right? And guys want sex. It's genetic. Unless he's got some sort of genetic mutation--and in that case, what if we had children? Would they be genetically mutated freaks, too? Not that we could have children, with all of the non-sex we're having, I just don't--"

"Buffy!" Willow shouted, cutting the blonde off mid-sentence. "Angel's Mr.
Noble Guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but I don't see what that--"

"Maybe he just doesn't want to move too fast."

"But that's my job! I'm the girl! I'm the one who is supposed to complain about my boyfriend having grabby-hands and comprising my purity and what-not. Not the other way around."

"Just give it time. He'll come around." Buffy tossed a pillow directly at Willow's face and she squeaked loudly. "What was that for?"

"Stop being so wise. You're making me sound like a sexed-up college kid."

--

Saturday night, Buffy stood in front of the floor-length mirror in Xander's "apartment" (a name he lovingly used for the basement of his parents house) and admired herself in front of the mirror. "I don't know." She said, tugged at the hem of the short, black dress that barely covered her bottom. Xander's girlfriend stood behind her, smiling brightly.

"I think it looks fantastic. Not as good as it does on me, but a close second!" She assured Buffy.

"Thanks, Anya." Buffy laughed. She was used to her bluntness by now, it barely even fazed her. She turned back to the mirror to admire the dress. It was tight and black, with a low v-neck that gave a view to as much cleavage as she could muster up in her Secret Embrace bra from Victoria's Secret. "This really isn't Angel's style. Do you have anything less….hooker?"

"Take a look." Anya flung open the door to the wardrobe which was stuffed full of her clothes.

"Whoa--where are Xander's clothes?" Anya pointed to a smile section of clothes that couldn't have been more than two inches thick. "Gotcha." Buffy stepped forward and began to thumb through the clothes, finally settling on a dark purple number. She stepped out of the previous dress and tossed it on, the silk floating over her body. She faced the mirror. "Perfect." The dress had a scalloped-hem that grazed her knees and the v-neck fell to a much more suitable place. The dress hugged her curves in a way that was sexy, but classy. Just the way Angel preferred his women (namely, her).

"Well, look at the Buffster!" Xander's voice came from behind her as he walked down the stairs leading to the basement.

"Do you like it?" Buffy twirled around, nervously biting her lip.

"You look great. Good job, Anya." Xander grinned. Anya stood behind Buffy, applauding herself. "What's the occasion, Buff? Finally going to look for a guy whose hair doesn't point straight up at all times?" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"No, Xander. We're going to a nice dinner."

"And afterwards, they're going to have sweaty, monkey-sex!" Anya said enthusiastically.

"Not that I have anything against sweaty, monkey sex, An," Xander wiggled his eyebrows at his girlfriend, "But ew! This is Buffy. We're on a need-to-know basis here. And that-" He shook his head, "It something I did not need to know!"

--

Buffy walked into the lobby of the ritzy eatery Angel had told her to meet him at. She wasn't surprised at the sight in front of her. The lobby resembled the foyer of a home, complete with an oak staircase winding it's way down to the station where the maitre de was standing. The walls were draped in purple velvet and tea lights lined the room.

"Can I help you?" The maitre de said, his voice a low-whisper.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said softly, feeling compelled to whisper as well. "I'm meeting Angel Douglas here."

"Ahh." The man nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Follow me." The man led her through a small, dimly lit hallway, stopping next to a side-table covered with flutes of champagne.

"Champagne, miss?" His stretched out his hand, offering up the flutes of the bubbly liquid. Buffy nodded, conveniently forgetting to mention her extreme lack of the age twenty-one. He handed her a flute and she thanked him, tipping the glass to her glossed-lips. "And through here." He led her through a room of tables and through a set of French doors. Buffy gasped when she entered. The room was small, with only one table, two chairs, and a fireplace lighting up the room. Angel was seated at one of the chairs, wearing a suit and clutching a small blue bag.

"Angel!" Buffy said, shocked. "This is amazing." She sat down in the other chair as they were left alone.

"I'm glad you like it." Angel smiled warmly and passed her a plate of salad. "I've already ordered everything, so it will be here soon. And I've got this for you." He passed the bag across the table.

"What is it?"

"Open it." Buffy untied the ribbon on the bag and pulled out a rectangular velvet box. She popped it open to reveal a necklace of tiny pearls.

"Angel--it's beautiful." She pulled the necklace out of the box, admiring it. "Thank you." She slipped it around her neck and fastened it, feeling the cool weight of the pearls slide against her skin.

"You're welcome." He took a bite of his salad. "I have something to ask you." Buffy looked up from her plate.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing over Thanksgiving break?"

"I don't know. My mom has a big gallery thing, so I was thinking of staying here or going home with Willow."

"Well--I was wondering if you'd like to come back home to New York with me." Buffy gasped. Angel never talked about his family. All she knew is that his father died when he was very young and his mother had remarried an Englishman and he'd gained a step-brother.

"I'd love to. I can't wait to meet your family." Angel tugged out his well-worn leather wallet and slipped a small photo out, handing it to Buffy.

"This is my mom," his finger grazed over the smiling face of a dark haired woman with porcelain skin. He pointed to a gray-haired man with glasses and a warm smile, his arm slung over the shoulders of his mother. "That's Rupert, her husband. Everyone calls him Giles."

"How funny," Buffy giggled.

"And that," Angel pointed to a man with peroxide blonde hair and steel blue eyes, "is my step-brother, Spike."

"Spike?" Buffy sputtered. "What kind of name is Spike?"

"Who knows. It's really William, but he's been asking people to call him that since he was five."

"Strange. Not that Angel is any more normal."

"It's a football nickname. I've had it since Junior High. I was the 7th grade Bobcats saving grace!" Buffy chuckled.

"I love you, Liam." She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. She looked around the room--who cared if he was a little cold physically? He was romantic and thoughtful--and he was taking her home to meet his family. That had to mean they were going to get serious soon…..right?