We're dancing.
'We' being Angel and I. Me and Angel. Dancing. With, you know... hands. And touching. And closeness. And there's also a wee smidge of hyperventilation. But I'm dealing with that by opening and closing my mouth against his shirt like a fish and hoping he won't notice.
Very attractive.
Did I mentioned that my head is leaning against his chest?
No?
Because it is. A LOT. My head. His shoulder. All up in there with the leaning...
Mmm.
It's like a really comfortable, really good smelling full-body pillow. Only it's more... firm. And I've also never exactly had an intense, mindless desire to grope a full-body pillow before.
But, hey, first time for everything!
"I don't want to monopolize you," Angel murmurs against my hair. "We can stop whenever you want. I'm sure you want to spend some time with your friends."
I can feel his fingers skimming a little lower on the small of my back. If he moved them down just another three or four inches, they'd totally be on my ass. And then I'd burst into flames.
But in a good way!
I pull back a little to smile up at him. "Nope. Monopolize away!"
A ghost of a smile passes across his face before we step back together and continue dancing. I feel really lightheaded and... slow. Like everything around us has just stopped moving completely. It's just so good.
I rub my cheek against the silk of his shirt as subtly as I can and glance back over towards our table where I can clearly see Cordelia and her evil minions mentally eviscerating me with their drinking straws.
Willow, on the other hand, looks like a big, happy ball of sunshine covered in the mutilated carcasses of a number of dead animals. She waves at me in an overblown, hyperactive manner and I grin stupidly in return.
"Your mother was right," Angel announces suddenly.
I look up at him in confusion. "What?"
"About the dance. It's a lot more fun without any nuns around."
"Mmm. Yeah, I imagine the threat of eternal damnation probably puts a damper on the slow-dancing fun," I agree. "Luckily for us, the nun-quotient in Southern California high schools is pretty low."
He nods absently and we keep dancing. I spread my fingers a little further along the back of his neck and I can just feel the tips of his hair against my fingertips.
Angel stiffens for a second and I hastily slide my hand down closer to his shoulder. He pushes gently on my hip and I take the hint and step back a little to look up at him.
His eyes are hooded and dark and perfect and I lick my lips unconsciously. It's disgusting how hot he is. Would he hate me if I bit him?
"Buffy," he murmurs and slides his hand up my arm until his fingertips are resting at that little place where my neck meets my jaw.
GIH.
Don't freak out, self! You're cool, you're calm. Calm like... birds! Calm birds. Birds that are calm and have obscenely gorgeous men stroking their neck. Neck-fetishist calm birds that-- GAH! Why the hell am I doing thinking about birds? Focus! If I blurt out something about kittens again, I swear to god...
"I know this is crazy, but--" he trails off before moving his hand up to cup my cheek. I think I'm going to pass out.
And WHY is he just staring at me? We're having a moment, dammit. KISS ME ALREADY!
...
Wait...
Oh god, I think he's leaning in. Oh yeah, there's definite leanage! His eyes drift closed and I reach up and grab a big handful of the front of his shirt while I stretch forward on my tip-toes.
Almost there... almost there...
"Buffster!"
WHAT THE HELL??
I jerk forward in surprise and my nose jams against Angel's chin painfully. We break apart immediately and I feel something cold and wet drip down onto my lip.
My eyes fly open in embarassment when I realize what it is and I fling my hands up to cover my now bloody nose.
ARGH. This time he's going to DIE.
"XANDER!" I shout, but it comes out muffled. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Are you alright?" Angel interrupts, managing to look both concerned and guilty at the same time.
Wait. Guilty? Why does he look guilty?
"Oh my god, Buffy! Are you okay?" Xander asks.
Okay? OKAY??
"No, I'm not okay! I'm BLEEDING!"
"Here," Angel mutters while wrapping the end of his sleeve around his hand. He gently pries my fingers away from my disgusting faucet-like nose and wipes away most of the blood.
God, could this be any less sexy? Why don't I just throw up all over him and then ask him to get me a beer? Ugh.
"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Xander whimpers, looking appropriately horrified. "I just needed to talk to you."
"Talk to me??" I echo in disbelief. Couldn't he see I was a little busy?!
Willow suddenly appears next to us and makes a little gasping noise. "Buffy! Oh my gosh, are you okay?"
Besides wanting to crawl under a rock and die? Sure, I'm just peachy!
"No," I moan pathetically while Angel starts leading me off the dance floor towards an empty table.
He pulls out a chair for me and looks back over at Willow. "Could you go to the bar and see if you can get some ice and some napkins?"
She nods and rushes off to her task and I tilt my head back a bit to slow the bleeding, giving the small crowd that's gathered around the table a great view up my nostrils.
Blah. This couldn't possibly be any more humiliating.
"Gee Buffy," Cordelia sighs in mock concern. "If you wanted to get a nose-job, there are easier ways of doing it."
Oh wait. It CAN be more humiliating. How silly of me.
"Cordelia, why do you always have to be so... so... Cordelia," Xander mumbles.
Cordelia rolls her eyes in response. "What a clever comeback. Tell me, what's your favorite flavor of paint?"
"Do you want to go home?" Angel asks me quietly while kneeling down next to my chair.
I nod pathetically and he helps me up by the elbow just as Willow comes back with the ice and a handful of napkins.
I grab a few from her and blot at my nose while we make our way outside. The bleeding has pretty much stopped, but now I'm left with a giant, swollen Ronald McDonald nose. Again with the attractiveness.
Once we're outside, Angel lets go of my arm and I carefully press the bag of ice against my face and sigh.
Dammit, I was THIS close to getting some hot Angel-tongue action.
God, what a waste.
"Are you sure you're alright, honey?"
Well, I'LL live, but my pride may never recover.
"Yeah," I mumble through the giant ice-pack she has plastered to my face. "The swelling's gone down. We can probably lose the huge block of ice anytime now."
She's smiling at me patiently, but I know I'm not getting out of this THAT easy. "I think it's best if we keep the ice on at least until you're ready to go to bed. We might even want to see if we can get an appointment with Dr. Richards just in case there might be any damage we don't know about."
Yeah. Or NOT.
"Um, NO."
"Honey, I know you don't like hospitals--"
It's not that I 'don't like' them. It's that I'd rather cut off my arms and legs and roll around on a skateboard until the end of TIME than go to one.
"Mom, stop wigging, okay! I'm fine. It was just a bloody nose. I don't need surgery or anything."
She sighs and shakes her head. "I know that, Buffy. I just wanted to be sure."
"Well, BE sure," I instruct. "I really am okay. I have a bloated, mutant-like nose now, but otherwise... just fine."
Mom doesn't look convinced. "How exactly did this happen, anyway?"
I blush involuntarily. "Um...."
"'Um' what?" Mom prods curiously before her face slips into a barely controlled frown. "Did someone hit you?"
"What? No! Jumping to conclusions much?"
"Well, you aren't exactly being forthcoming with information, honey," she chides. "And forgive me for being curious when my only child goes to a school dance and comes home with a bloody nose."
"You're blowing this WAY out of proportion, Mom. It was just a really embarrassing accident."
"Then why can't you tell me what happened?"
"Um, did you not hear the part about it being embarrassing?" I mumble. "I'd really just like to forget the whole thing."
Except for the part where Angel and I were about to make with the kissage. Because that part I'd like to have on videotape.
And speaking of...
"Hey, where's Angel?" I ask, sitting up a little higher against my headboard.
Mom gets up off the edge of my bed and starts folding the remains of my gross, blood-stained dress. I cringe involuntarily. It was so pretty and now it looks like Charles Manson evening wear.
"He's downstairs," she replies before giving up trying to fold it and instead bunching it into a little heap. "I gave him some club soda and a rag to try to get the blood off of his shirt. It was silk, though, so I think it's a lost cause."
Nooo!
"But it was so sexy!" I blurt and then gasp against my bag of ice. Oh god, I said that out loud, didn't I?
Mom raises an eyebrow while shooting me her 'What did you just say, young lady??' withering stare. I slouch lower into my pillows and I just know I'm blushing to the roots of my hair.
Ugh. Why am I SUCH a MORON??
"I mean, sexy to... some... people," I recover lamely. "Other people. People who aren't me!"
Kill me now.
"Mmm-hmm. I see," she states in that time-honored 'You're full of it' way. She sighs and sits back down at the head of the bed, brushing my hair back with her fingers. "Sweetie, are you... are you attracted to Angel?"
DUH.
"Um... no?"
"Buffy--"
"Maybe a tiny, tiny bit," I concede before she gives me the look again. Damn. "Okay fine, I think he's freakishly hot. I DO have eyes, Mom."
And now my humilition is complete! Joy.
She sighs again and can I just say that's getting REALLY annoying? "I admit that he's very... very good-looking--"
I pull the ice-pack away from my face and stare at her in shock.
She rolls her eyes in response. "I have eyes too, Buffy."
Panic starts to creep into my voice. "You aren't... I mean, you don't..."
Her eyes widen in surprise and she looks fairly appalled. WHEW. Thank god! "Of course not! He's not even half my age. I'm just saying that, even though he's good-looking, he's..."
"He's what?" I ask curiously when she trails off.
"He's only going to be here for five weeks," she finally gets out. "I just want to be sure you know what you're getting into."
Blah.
I know he's only going to be here for five weeks. Believe me, I've thought about it A LOT. But come on! How often does a guy like Angel drop into your lap? A girl's got to take a few risks, right?
"I know that! I do. I just don't really care," I announce. "Mom, Angel's really special. And I'm not saying that we're ever going to date or anything, but maybe... maybe if he likes me too, we could... you know... have a thing? Like a long distance thing. Or-or we could work something else out. Or something."
And I can't believe I'm talking about this with MY MOTHER.
"Okay," she says, surprising me. "I hope it works out for you, then, sweetie. I'm glad you're starting to be interested in guys again after what happened with Tyler. Now, keep that ice on your nose until you're ready to go to sleep. I'm going to go downstairs and check on Angel."
I nod, still a little weirded out that she didn't throw a big 'Mom Fit' about my Angel lusting. She grabs the leftovers of my dress and leaves the room, closing my door behind her.
I can't help the smile that starts to creep across my face. I wouldn't wish the extreme humiliation of today on my worst enemy (EXCLUDING Cordelia, who I wish humiliation on quite frequently), but the night didn't really turn out all bad.
After all, my Mom is acting nice and supportive to the point of being Stepford creepy, I got to slowdance with a total hottie, AND I was inches away from some serious Angel lip-sucking.
And yeah, it really blew monkies that we were interrupted, but... we ARE going to be sleeping in the same room tonight.
Alone.
In the dark.
In close proximity to my bed.
...
I hate to quote the she-bitch from hell, but... "HELLO, Salty Goodness!"
------------------
AN: Spwah. You guys have been awesome with the reviews. It's lustfully
appreciated. Also, someone asked why this story is rated 'R'. The R-type stuff
shows up in later chapters when Angel and Buffy get a little bit closer. Or
biblically closer. We shall see... -lofty
Oh, and Tariq...
I'm not sure whether I accept challenges or not. I've never done a challenge,
but when I'm done with CS I'd probably think about it.
