As promised, here's part deux. I'm sorry, but I never could get over that scene. I had to rehash it, just a little. Hope you like!
The house was silent when Buffy returned, bulging backpack in tow. It had been relatively easy to sneak past her mother, grab her stuff and boogie. She wasn't completely heartless, though; she'd left a note informing said mother of her safety, yada yada, so she wouldn't worry quite so much.
When she thought about it, she actually got more homework done at Angel's than any other place, even in the library under Giles' watchful eye. (no pun intended) Her focus was so much better there; it probably was the peaceful atmosphere. Quiet and welcoming.
Quietly closing the door behind her, Buffy tuned her senses, trying to discover Angel's whereabouts. Nothing. Absently dropping her duffle by the table, she slowly ventured down the hall, towards the only other room in the place.
She'd always wondered about that room. Very sparse, it contained only trivial things, like knickknacks he'd picked up in god-knows-where. She wondered how many times he'd traveled the globe.
That room had always felt peaceful, though, that she remembered. She'd never really had cause to go there, but she knew Angel kept his most prized possessions there: his arsenal. The walls were covered in axes, swords, and random weapons, collected during his travels. A sturdy cabinet stood in the corner, holding the smaller articles. Knives and things. He really had quite a collection; Giles's weapons locker was nothing in comparison.
Finally arriving at the doorway, she realized how soundless she had unconsciously made her approach. Habit, she thought. What she saw when she looked in, though, left her stunned. Angel, aka Mr.Enigma, was in some sort of voodoo trance, sweeping the air in random patterns with his hands, eyes closed, looking all the world for a certified wacko.
For the longest time, she simply stood there, just staring at him.
Yet, the longer she watched, the more she came to realize how not-random this was. It was some sort of ritual, she thought, but it looked so…relaxing. The motions were simple, and, actually, if she looked close enough, it appeared as almost a sort of battle, decelerated impossibly slow.
Having as much as her curiosity could handle, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She had to know. "What are you doing?"
Her voice jumped him from his reverie, and she got that slight pleasure from getting past his defenses; it was nice to know she still had the edge on him. He spun about, eyes wide, then suddenly embarrassed. "Oh. Buffy. I didn't hear you...come in," he trailed off.
His feet shifted awkwardly, contrasting with his previous grace.
Slower this time, she repeated, "What are you doing?"
"Oh. That." He made vague gestures with his hands, illuminating nothing. "It's called tai chi. It helps me focus; quite relaxing actually." That nervousness still pervaded his movements, and then she realized, he was afraid she'd think it was stupid.
She almost laughed out loud. For someone a couple hundred years old, he sure acted like he was twelve sometimes. Softening her stance, she tried to make eye contact. "Angel. It's beautiful."
Somehow, it called out to her, the flowing movements, beckoned to her inner-warrior, the part of her that was ingrained down to her soul. Those three words captured his attention, and his eyes met hers. Almost sheepishly, he ventured, "I could teach you, if you wanted."
"Yeah. I'd like that."
With those words, all the tension seemed to evaporate out of the room. Suddenly, Angel was back in harmony, his soft voice controlling her motions, explaining the intricacies of each step, the theory behind each movement. They were so in-synch with each other, even before the exercise, that she was able to pick up on his shifting muscles as one movement blended into the next.
After a short amount of time, they were seamlessly mirroring each other's turns, superbly balanced, each motion focused and precise. It was a moment of true harmony as their two bodies connected on another level. Minutes turned to hours, and soon, the two found themselves covered in a sweat, but breathing evenly, and fully refreshed.
Buffy spoke first. "That was wonderful." No other words were necessary as they locked eyes; all communication seemed to be telepathic at that point, his single nod speaking volumes.
"Mind if I shower first? I guess it's a good thing I skipped that part when I was home."
"Sure. Towels are in the cabinet by the sink. Leave me some hot water, or no more lessons."
"No more lessons? What more is there? I thought that was it."
"It gets much deeper than that, Buffy. That was form one. Just wait till you get a sword in your hand, then it gets interesting."
Shaking her head in dazed amusement, her response, "Huh. The way we get our kicks, Angel. Sometimes it really amazes me," elicited a low chuckle from her counterpart.
"The shower it is then." She muttered, "It's about time I did something about this hair."
Angel's rare laugh echoed, following her down the hall.
Yes, I know, still pretty short, but I hope you enjoyed it.
I'm a little saddened by how few reviews this story has gotten. I'm just looking out for the story's well-being, of course. Really, though, I'm curious to know what you guys think of this.
Just let me know whatcha think.
And thanks for reading!