Title: Switch In Identities
Chapter Title: Shirtless and Breathtaking
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Buffy's injuries causes Angel to drag her into his home in which he promises to take care of her wounds for saving his ass.
Dedication: To . . . Jacob, who made out with me in the middle of fuckin' hall! *LOL*
Excerpt:
~Angel: Nice tattoo . . . What does it mean?
~Buffy: My angel . . . My savior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was as light as air, around one-hundred pounds perhaps . . . maybe even less. She looked so innocent in his arms as he walked back to the empty hotel he called home, not noticing anyone else but her.
It was as though he had sank into another world . . . willingly and without a second thought.
And it was only her who was with him.
She suddenly moaned, jolting him out of his deep thoughts. He looked down at her, completely mesmerized by her beauty. Golden spun hair . . . and skin naturally tanned.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he was met by bright hazel eyes that stared back at him in awe and surprise.
"Liam . . . " she mumbled dreamily.
Angel frowned as she shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered hoarsely.
Angel gently set her on her feet, keeping an arm around her to keep her steady. He took out his keys and opened the entrance to the Hyperion Hotel.
Without a word, he slowly led her inside as he turned on the lights.
"Shit," Buffy grumbled, finally noticing the deep gash on her stomach.
"You've got a pretty nasty bump on your head too," Angel added to her dilemma.
She gently touched her forehead, wincing slightly at the swelling. "Stupid Keldim Demons," she complained angrily.
Angel smiled faintly and walked behind the hotel counter to get the first aid kit that Cordelia always had at hand's reach in their dangerous job.
"Just lift up your shirt and . . . " he turned to find Buffy in nothing more than a black sports bra covering her slim and well defined body. She rubbed her shoulders and looked up at him expectantly.
He stood there, mouth agape.
"You're attracting flies," she said with a smile.
He shook his head and embarrassedly cleared his throat. "Get on the bed . . . the counter," he stuttered with a soft curse.
Buffy quirked an eyebrow in amusement but did as she was told. She hopped on the counter, facing the side as Angel studied her wound beneath the florescent light . . . but something else caught his eyes.
"Nice tattoo," he said, noticing the black drawing permanently inked on the flesh of her right shoulder blade. It was an A with angel wings surrounding it in a dramatic flight. "What does it mean?" he asked.
"My angel," she whispered a bit sadly, "My savior."
Angel nodded, not wanting to delve deep into her soul at this very moment. Just being with her, just being this close and to finally see her face was enough. He didn't want to scare her away with too many questions.
He steered his gaze back to her injury.
"Why were you out tonight?" he asked.
"Why were you?"
"I asked you first."
"Thought I could release some tension."
"Is this the only way to do that?"
She chuckled. "There are other ways . . . but we won't go there now will we?"
Angel had the heart to blush.
"Nice place," she said, looking around the lobby.
"It was owned by my grandfather," he explained, "I lived in an apartment before I found out that this was mine."
"Why not put it back up again. With some refurnishing and new paint . . . it would make a great hotel again," she suggested.
"Don't want the responsibility."
Buffy nodded.
"Where do you live?" Angel asked her.
"Around."
"That's it?"
"Yup," she answered as he finished dressing the cut. Angel looked at her eyes, glittering with much mischief. "Were you following me?" she asked suddenly.
"Why would I do that?" Angel found himself replying.
She shrugged.
Angel began putting away the first aid kit and grabbed an ice-pack from the small fridge beneath where she sat. He handed it to her and she graciously took it and placed it carefully on her forehead.
Angel leaned against the counter, trying to look casual, even though inside, his heart was pounding a mile a minute and his breathing was starting to become too much work.
"You're the girl who appears and disappears as she pleases. How would I know you were out tonight?" Angel asked, countering her question if he was following her.
"Don't you feel it?" she asked, looking at him with hopeful green eyes.
He frowned. "Feel what?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind," she said, grabbing black hooded sweater and putting it back on.
Angel silently saddened at seeing her gorgeous body get covered once again.
He shook his head. "You can't just ask that kind of question and . . . and say that," he said as she hopped off the counter to look around the hotel much more closely.
"You need more plants in here," she said.
Angel laughed without humor. "I'm not a plant or animal person. Anything living dies in my hands."
"I doubt that," she commented.
"Tell that to the twenty tropical fishes that had gone down the toilet . . . and the ten plants Cordelia left me to take care of," he said.
Buffy stared back at him, sincerity in her eyes. "Not everything you touch dies," she insisted, and walked towards him to take his hand in hers. "These hands have saved the world many times." She placed her other hand against his chest, and Angel closed his eyes at the feeling of her caressing touch. "And this heart has survived every heartache the world had threw back at it . . . and look," she smiled, "Through all that . . . it still beats."
"Don't change the subject," he said through clenched teeth as he grasped her wrist and forced her to stare into his brown eyes. "Were you following me?" he opposed, not wnating to get into the details or the reason how she knew of his past . . . his heartaches.
She smiled wickedly.
"Why?" Angel asked.
" 'Cause maybe I like you," she answered with a careless shrug.
"Maybe?"
She nodded, but suddenly caught herself and looked away. 'Stop flirting!' she silently scolded herself. "I have to go," she said sadly and walked towards the door she entered with her hands in the pockets of her sweater.
Angel quickly blocked the door. "No," he said a bit eagerly. He blushed and cleared his throat before saying with much more calmness, "At least stay for a little more while." His mind raced on any sort of reason so she would stay. He began grasping at straws. "How about some coffee?"
Buffy smiled and was about to place her hand on his cheek, when she pulled her cold hand away.
"I can't," she whispered and took a deep breath. "I really . . . can't," she said, looking up at him, her eyes pleading for him to let her go.
Angel sighed and gave in.
He stared down at the cold floor.
Buffy could only look at him as she opened the door and stared at his sagging stature.
Angel heard the door open and then close.
He then turned and watched her walk down the steps.
Continued . . .
Chapter Title: Shirtless and Breathtaking
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Buffy's injuries causes Angel to drag her into his home in which he promises to take care of her wounds for saving his ass.
Dedication: To . . . Jacob, who made out with me in the middle of fuckin' hall! *LOL*
Excerpt:
~Angel: Nice tattoo . . . What does it mean?
~Buffy: My angel . . . My savior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was as light as air, around one-hundred pounds perhaps . . . maybe even less. She looked so innocent in his arms as he walked back to the empty hotel he called home, not noticing anyone else but her.
It was as though he had sank into another world . . . willingly and without a second thought.
And it was only her who was with him.
She suddenly moaned, jolting him out of his deep thoughts. He looked down at her, completely mesmerized by her beauty. Golden spun hair . . . and skin naturally tanned.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he was met by bright hazel eyes that stared back at him in awe and surprise.
"Liam . . . " she mumbled dreamily.
Angel frowned as she shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered hoarsely.
Angel gently set her on her feet, keeping an arm around her to keep her steady. He took out his keys and opened the entrance to the Hyperion Hotel.
Without a word, he slowly led her inside as he turned on the lights.
"Shit," Buffy grumbled, finally noticing the deep gash on her stomach.
"You've got a pretty nasty bump on your head too," Angel added to her dilemma.
She gently touched her forehead, wincing slightly at the swelling. "Stupid Keldim Demons," she complained angrily.
Angel smiled faintly and walked behind the hotel counter to get the first aid kit that Cordelia always had at hand's reach in their dangerous job.
"Just lift up your shirt and . . . " he turned to find Buffy in nothing more than a black sports bra covering her slim and well defined body. She rubbed her shoulders and looked up at him expectantly.
He stood there, mouth agape.
"You're attracting flies," she said with a smile.
He shook his head and embarrassedly cleared his throat. "Get on the bed . . . the counter," he stuttered with a soft curse.
Buffy quirked an eyebrow in amusement but did as she was told. She hopped on the counter, facing the side as Angel studied her wound beneath the florescent light . . . but something else caught his eyes.
"Nice tattoo," he said, noticing the black drawing permanently inked on the flesh of her right shoulder blade. It was an A with angel wings surrounding it in a dramatic flight. "What does it mean?" he asked.
"My angel," she whispered a bit sadly, "My savior."
Angel nodded, not wanting to delve deep into her soul at this very moment. Just being with her, just being this close and to finally see her face was enough. He didn't want to scare her away with too many questions.
He steered his gaze back to her injury.
"Why were you out tonight?" he asked.
"Why were you?"
"I asked you first."
"Thought I could release some tension."
"Is this the only way to do that?"
She chuckled. "There are other ways . . . but we won't go there now will we?"
Angel had the heart to blush.
"Nice place," she said, looking around the lobby.
"It was owned by my grandfather," he explained, "I lived in an apartment before I found out that this was mine."
"Why not put it back up again. With some refurnishing and new paint . . . it would make a great hotel again," she suggested.
"Don't want the responsibility."
Buffy nodded.
"Where do you live?" Angel asked her.
"Around."
"That's it?"
"Yup," she answered as he finished dressing the cut. Angel looked at her eyes, glittering with much mischief. "Were you following me?" she asked suddenly.
"Why would I do that?" Angel found himself replying.
She shrugged.
Angel began putting away the first aid kit and grabbed an ice-pack from the small fridge beneath where she sat. He handed it to her and she graciously took it and placed it carefully on her forehead.
Angel leaned against the counter, trying to look casual, even though inside, his heart was pounding a mile a minute and his breathing was starting to become too much work.
"You're the girl who appears and disappears as she pleases. How would I know you were out tonight?" Angel asked, countering her question if he was following her.
"Don't you feel it?" she asked, looking at him with hopeful green eyes.
He frowned. "Feel what?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind," she said, grabbing black hooded sweater and putting it back on.
Angel silently saddened at seeing her gorgeous body get covered once again.
He shook his head. "You can't just ask that kind of question and . . . and say that," he said as she hopped off the counter to look around the hotel much more closely.
"You need more plants in here," she said.
Angel laughed without humor. "I'm not a plant or animal person. Anything living dies in my hands."
"I doubt that," she commented.
"Tell that to the twenty tropical fishes that had gone down the toilet . . . and the ten plants Cordelia left me to take care of," he said.
Buffy stared back at him, sincerity in her eyes. "Not everything you touch dies," she insisted, and walked towards him to take his hand in hers. "These hands have saved the world many times." She placed her other hand against his chest, and Angel closed his eyes at the feeling of her caressing touch. "And this heart has survived every heartache the world had threw back at it . . . and look," she smiled, "Through all that . . . it still beats."
"Don't change the subject," he said through clenched teeth as he grasped her wrist and forced her to stare into his brown eyes. "Were you following me?" he opposed, not wnating to get into the details or the reason how she knew of his past . . . his heartaches.
She smiled wickedly.
"Why?" Angel asked.
" 'Cause maybe I like you," she answered with a careless shrug.
"Maybe?"
She nodded, but suddenly caught herself and looked away. 'Stop flirting!' she silently scolded herself. "I have to go," she said sadly and walked towards the door she entered with her hands in the pockets of her sweater.
Angel quickly blocked the door. "No," he said a bit eagerly. He blushed and cleared his throat before saying with much more calmness, "At least stay for a little more while." His mind raced on any sort of reason so she would stay. He began grasping at straws. "How about some coffee?"
Buffy smiled and was about to place her hand on his cheek, when she pulled her cold hand away.
"I can't," she whispered and took a deep breath. "I really . . . can't," she said, looking up at him, her eyes pleading for him to let her go.
Angel sighed and gave in.
He stared down at the cold floor.
Buffy could only look at him as she opened the door and stared at his sagging stature.
Angel heard the door open and then close.
He then turned and watched her walk down the steps.
Continued . . .