Title: My Daddy Says… Mommy Can Be Scary When She's Mad
Author: Taz
Rating: G
Summary: Buffy's had a hard day at work; all she wants to do is put her feet up and relax. But Colm has other ideas.
"Colm Sean O'Connor! Put that down right now!" Buffy bellowed at her son as he sprinted into the room with one of Angel's broadswords clutched in his little hands.
He skidded to a halt, nearly impaling the, very expensive, leather armchair that sat in the living room. Looking at his mother with huge brown eyes he spoke.
"Why?" he asked, innocently.
"You'll hurt yourself or someone else with that thing," she snapped impatiently, knowing he was trying to wind her up.
"Why?" he repeated infuriatingly.
"Because I said so, that's why," she replied easily, it was a war of words they often played, and it was best to give a conclusive answer then just ignore him.
"Why?" he tried, once more, heading out of the room to return the sword to its case.
Buffy sighed and moved into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and drinking it down quickly. How come no one else was ever around when Colm was at his most energetic? She was going to have to have serious words with his father.
A huge thud interrupted her thoughts, followed almost instantaneously by a loud groan. Rushing from the room she headed up the stairs two at a time before charging into her son's bedroom. Her husband lay on the floor in the middle of the room, a dazed expression on his face as he rubbed at the back of his head.
Colm lay slumped on the bed, hysterical laughter bubbling out of him and tears of mirth sliding down his cheeks.
"What on earth is going on in here?" Buffy asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot, her face set like thunder.
"Daddy… Daddy," Colm began before snorting with laughter once again.
"I fell," Angel explained sheepishly. "Off the bunk."
"You fell?" Buffy repeated, her voice monotone. "Off your son's bed? Can I ask why you were climbing on it?"
"We were playing pirates…" Angel volunteered, knowing that if he could, he would be blushing.
"Pirates? Angel O'Connor, sometimes, I swear you are the single dumbest man alive!" She exploded, pacing the room. "You know he gets hyperactive yet you insist on getting him excited-"
"Buffy calm down," Angel climbed to his feet and took up a protective stance. "We were just horsing around-"
"Yeah well I'm sick and tired of it Angel. If it's not his teachers complaining it's the parents. I can't take it any more and all I want to do when I get home is have a little peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?"
"Sorry," he muttered sullenly. Colm crawled out of his hiding place beneath his duvet and took up position beside his father, head down, eyes on the floor.
"No you're not," she snapped, spinning on her heel and stalking out of the room.
"I guess we made mom pretty mad," Colm muttered ruefully, tracing patterns on the rug with the toe of his shoe.
"I guess we did," Angel sighed.
"We should go down and say sorry…."
"Son o' mine," Angel grinned. "I have a better idea…"
* * *
"Dad," Colm whispered theatrically. "What do I do with this?"
"Just pop it down on the counter top," Angel instructed, cracking eggs into a bowl.
"Are you sure this'll work?" Colm asked doubtfully. "Mom seemed really mad…"
"Your mother can be scary when she's angry," Angel conceded. "But trust me, she'll love this."
* * *
Buffy sighed at the blissful quiet that had settled over the hotel and leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes slightly. The silence was tangible, making her ears ring with it's intensity. She couldn't remember the old place being this quiet in years.
Wait a minute.
Wait just a goddamn minute.
No noise meant Colm was doing something unspeakable, the last time he'd been quiet for this long he'd been drawing on the cream walls in the hallway… the full length of the wall… in permanent marker…
Jumping to her feet she hurried through the rooms, pausing to look into each one to see what mischief her son had gotten himself into. It was worse than she could ever have imagined, the bedrooms, living room, bathroom, study, offices, basement and training room were all empty. Which only left the kitchen. Which contained enough products to have her on her knees scrubbing until at least midnight.
He was so grounded. His father was so dead. They were both… the most absolutely adorable men she had ever had the amazing good fortune to meet.
Angel smiled hopefully at his wife as she stopped dead in the kitchen doorway and stared at them open-mouthed.
The open-plan dining room could be seen showing a huge, carefully polished oak table laden with a delicious looking meal. Angel had surpassed himself cooking a full roast chicken with all the trimmings, glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with cream, fresh peas, crisp-looking mange tout, and aromatic gravy laced with red wine. Behind him, and bearing the same sheepish grin, her son was half-way through the act of adding black cherries to the top of a dark chocolate tart.
Smiling she tried to keep a stern note in her voice.
"What's all this about?"
"We're sorry about earlier, mommy," Colm whispered, stepping forward and wrapping his little arms around her waist to hug her. "We didn't mean to make you mad."
"I'm sorry, baby," she murmured, kneeling down on the expensive tiles to hug her son and kiss his brow. "And isn't this a wonderful surprise."
"M'lady?" Angel offered her his hand before leading her over to the table, propped against her wind glass was a small card obviously made by Colm. The front showed a smiling set of people, the tallest and smallest with unruly mops of dark hair and the mid-sized one with flowing hair in yellow crayon. All three were stood in a field sprouting colourful flowers and a huge yellow sun hung in the sky. Beneath the colourful picture, in Colm's unsteady script, the words 'Sorry mommy' were emblazoned. She picked it up and smiled at her son.
"This is very good, honey."
"I did it for you. Daddy only helped me with the spelling."
"It's excellent," she beamed as Angel pulled out her chair for her before dishing up her share of the meal. "You guys should cook more often."
Suddenly there was a huge crash followed by an agonised wail from the kitchen.
"Daaaaaaaaad!" Colm yelled. "I dropped the chocolate thing!"