Buffy flipped another page with a faint yawn but managed to keep her mind
on the content of the book. So far she had memorised the description of
about eight common breeds of peace loving demons, she just hoped that the
images stayed in her brain.
After committing number nine to memory she looked at her watch, still no Angel knocking at her door. Perhaps she'd been over eager or over hopeful but they now had less then two hours before Angel went out on detecting duty and she ordered pizza before going looking for an old friend or something to beat up. Maybe both.
He so wasn't gonna to come.
With a sigh she turned another page and gasped in disgust, "Ugh, I don't care if you're a good guy, you look butt ugly and that sticky tongue froggie thing you do, yuck!"
She was still staring in horrified fascination at the hideous print of her tenth good guy demon when a hesitant tap sounded at her door, Buffy didn't think twice, she gleefully slung the books into the ready open trunk, almost tripped on her own feet as she dashed to check her hair in the mirror before racing for the door.
Angel twitched outside Buffy's room unsure if he should be pursuing this with her, whatever 'this' was. Finally he mustered a faint tap on her door that he half hoped she wouldn't hear. What if she had gone out? What if she'd just been humouring him and didn't really want to spend more time with him? What if-
Before his mind had travelled too far down the 'what if' path the door was flung open with flattering speed and a welcoming smile.
Angel smiled in return, the first real smile he had ever given Buffy and it took her breath away.
They stood smiling goofily at each other for a few moments before Angel found his voice, "I finished with the car so if you still wanted to and if you're not busy with anything else we could maybe talk some more and I could make you something to eat if you liked."
"I like very much, talk and food are magical words to Buffy!"
"Okay then."
They walked down the stairs together to the kitchen in companionable silence.
With Buffy's ineptitude in the kitchen firmly in mind Angel persuaded her not try to help him make the hamburgers and Salad for her dinner, instead he tried to settle her in a chair with a glass of juice where she could talk to him while he cooked. Despite her constant chattering and highly energetic movements she was strangely restful though exciting company requiring him only to listen and watch as she bounded around humming, twirling the dial on the radio and poking her nose into the fridge; making him very thankful he kept his blood supply upstairs in his apartment.
She was so beautiful and so graceful and there was an air of innocence about her mixed in with a careworn worldliness that presented an enigma. What more did any man want than a beautiful mystery?
Doyle would be appalled, his two and a half centuries old friend letching on his eighteen year old kid sister. He sighed quietly and concentrated on the grill.
Spending this much time with Buffy was a mistake, if, no, when they got Doyle back to entertain her he would stay out of her way and then he wouldn't know her well enough to miss her when she went home.
Yeah, right. If she went home tomorrow he would miss her. How had she buried herself so deep in his heart without him even noticing until it was done?
Angel tore his thoughts away from romancing Buffy and tried to be grateful that she even wanted to be friendly with him, he was grateful for that but for the first time in a long time he found himself wanting more. He snorted as he heaped food on Buffy's plate; he had about as much chance of a date with Buffy Summers as a pig had of flying to the moon.
After committing number nine to memory she looked at her watch, still no Angel knocking at her door. Perhaps she'd been over eager or over hopeful but they now had less then two hours before Angel went out on detecting duty and she ordered pizza before going looking for an old friend or something to beat up. Maybe both.
He so wasn't gonna to come.
With a sigh she turned another page and gasped in disgust, "Ugh, I don't care if you're a good guy, you look butt ugly and that sticky tongue froggie thing you do, yuck!"
She was still staring in horrified fascination at the hideous print of her tenth good guy demon when a hesitant tap sounded at her door, Buffy didn't think twice, she gleefully slung the books into the ready open trunk, almost tripped on her own feet as she dashed to check her hair in the mirror before racing for the door.
Angel twitched outside Buffy's room unsure if he should be pursuing this with her, whatever 'this' was. Finally he mustered a faint tap on her door that he half hoped she wouldn't hear. What if she had gone out? What if she'd just been humouring him and didn't really want to spend more time with him? What if-
Before his mind had travelled too far down the 'what if' path the door was flung open with flattering speed and a welcoming smile.
Angel smiled in return, the first real smile he had ever given Buffy and it took her breath away.
They stood smiling goofily at each other for a few moments before Angel found his voice, "I finished with the car so if you still wanted to and if you're not busy with anything else we could maybe talk some more and I could make you something to eat if you liked."
"I like very much, talk and food are magical words to Buffy!"
"Okay then."
They walked down the stairs together to the kitchen in companionable silence.
With Buffy's ineptitude in the kitchen firmly in mind Angel persuaded her not try to help him make the hamburgers and Salad for her dinner, instead he tried to settle her in a chair with a glass of juice where she could talk to him while he cooked. Despite her constant chattering and highly energetic movements she was strangely restful though exciting company requiring him only to listen and watch as she bounded around humming, twirling the dial on the radio and poking her nose into the fridge; making him very thankful he kept his blood supply upstairs in his apartment.
She was so beautiful and so graceful and there was an air of innocence about her mixed in with a careworn worldliness that presented an enigma. What more did any man want than a beautiful mystery?
Doyle would be appalled, his two and a half centuries old friend letching on his eighteen year old kid sister. He sighed quietly and concentrated on the grill.
Spending this much time with Buffy was a mistake, if, no, when they got Doyle back to entertain her he would stay out of her way and then he wouldn't know her well enough to miss her when she went home.
Yeah, right. If she went home tomorrow he would miss her. How had she buried herself so deep in his heart without him even noticing until it was done?
Angel tore his thoughts away from romancing Buffy and tried to be grateful that she even wanted to be friendly with him, he was grateful for that but for the first time in a long time he found himself wanting more. He snorted as he heaped food on Buffy's plate; he had about as much chance of a date with Buffy Summers as a pig had of flying to the moon.
