"Hey."
I glance away from the ceiling that I've been staring at for an hour to see Angel standing hesitantly in the doorway. His hand is still on the knob and he only has the door open halfway.
"Hi," I reply cheerfully before shooting him a look. "Are you going to come in or are you trying to maintain a 15 foot distance from my horrible disfigurement?"
He smiles sheepishly and comes all the way inside, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry. Does it still hurt?"
"No. It's more of a horrendous, throbbing self-esteem killer now," I mutter. I pick up my treasured stuffed pig and wave it near my face. "And look! Mr. Gordo and I have matching noses! Yay."
The corner of his mouth twitches for just a second, like he's trying to keep himself from laughing. Jerk.
But I forgive you.
... On with the kissing!
"You don't have a pig nose, Buffy. Actually, the swelling has gone down a lot already. The ice must be helping."
"Mmm. So now instead of a gigantic whale nose, I have a... slightly smaller whale nose."
Do whales even have noses? Hmm.
Oh well.
... And anytime now with the kissing, Angel!
"You look fine," he corrects gently. "You won't even notice it by tomorrow morning."
I shrug, but don't say anything. Instead I pull my shoulders back and attempt to stick out my chest (also known as my 'some people have boobs here, but I just have brail writing' area) in a flirty, sex-kittenish manner.
Sure to drive all men wild with lust!
Or... to the bathroom with nausea!
Angel stares at me blankly and I blink coquettishly at him. Come and get some, big boy!
"Do you have something in your eye?" he asks slowly.
"No~o," I purr and lean forward a bit.
I'm still blinking freakishly and he's starting to look vaguely uncomfortable. Doesn't this usually work on TV?
"Uh... are you sure? It looks like you have something in your eye."
Arg. You're ruining it!
"There's nothing in my eye! Nothing. See?" I stand up abruptly and stalk over to Angel until I'm right in front of him, staring up into his eyes. I try not to blink and my eyes start to water, so I glance down quickly before he can see.
I can sort of see my reflection in his belt buckle. It's shiny.
... oh GOD, I'm staring at his crotch, aren't I? SHIT!
I jump back in a strung out, bordering physically disabled manner and end up stumbling into my dresser. I let out a yelp and flail about for a moment, before succombing to gravity and collapsing into a heap on the floor.
He's next to me in an instant, clutching my elbow and checking me over for injuries. I stare straight ahead in a mortified stupor.
What is WRONG with me? I was never this much of a freak around Tyler...
Am I being punished? Is that it? Is there some vengeful god out there paying me retribution because I was a cannibal in another life? A really, really mean cannibal who ate other people's... legs and faces and... and backs! I ate other people's backs and now I have to suffer for it because-- MPFFH!
Nng!
KISSING!
WE HAVE KISSING!
Oh god, it's so good! He's sliding his tongue between my lips and I pull myself closer to him by his shoulders. He moves one of his arms around me and his hand brushes against the back of my neck, rubbing the skin there gently.
I shiver and moan into his mouth and his hand moves away, sliding into my hair. I press more urgently against his lips-- god, his lips! They're so soft... and warm...
I surge forward until I'm in his lap and we kiss and kiss until we realize we need to breathe and break apart, gasping for air.
I pant and stare at him; his eyes are unfocused and his shoulders tremble with his shallow breaths. It's too much. God, I need more.
I lean forward again but he turns his head a little, so my lips brush against the side of his mouth and hold there.
We both get really still and I can feel little puffs of breath against my cheek.
I make the tiniest of movements against his skin and then I can feel a hint of stubble scratch against my upper lip.
It's so violently sexy that I can't help gasping.
I swear to god, this is what heroin must feel like.
"Buffy, honey? Can I come in?"
CRAP! My mother is the DEVIL!
Angel stumbles backwards in surprise, causing him to fall on his ass from his kneeling position. I jump up just as the door starts to creep open and grab the first thing I see off of my nighttable as if some prop will help explain what we were doing.
Unfortunately, it just happens to be my desklamp.
"Hi Mom!" I cry, but it comes out in a strangled, high-pitched voice. I wince inwardly but force a crooked, toothy smile on my face.
Mom's 'Guilt-O-Meter' immediately starts sending off sirens at my weird behavior and she frowns at the lamp in my hands. "What are you doing with that?"
"Nothing, Mo~om!" I lilt. Gah!
"Then why are you holding it, Buffy?"
"Because... of... the-- it was broken! But now... fixed!" I blabber before hurriedly setting the lamp back down. I look over at Angel who is awkwardly getting to his feet. "Thanks, Angel! For fixing it. Because... whew! It would have been just terrible if that desklamp never worked again. What would Thomas Edison think?"
I smile innocently back up at my mother who is now frowning in overt suspicion. She glances at Angel but he's somehow managed to wipe all expression from his face.
Lucky bastard. Why can't I do that?
"Well, I was just checking to see if you needed any more ice," Mom explains slowly. "Do you?"
Nope! I have plenty left in my ziploc bag to rub all over Angel later until he's all wet and trembly and begging me to warm him up...
Mmm-BOY!
"I'm fine, Mom! Thanks!" I smile again and this time it doesn't seem forced. She seems fairly appeased and nods reluctantly.
"Alright. I think it's time for you both to go to sleep then," she states while sending me another look.
"I'm just going to brush my teeth and then... straight to bed!" I enthuse before calmly walking past my mother into the hallway and disappearing into the bathroom.
I shut the door behind me frantically and lean against it, feeling like I had just run a mile. I smile a little.
And then I smile some more.
"Goodnight!" I call through the door before leaning my head back and opening my mouth in a silent scream of euphoria.
Angel kissed me!
"Um, do you-- uh, do you need to use the bathroom?"
"No. I'm... I'm good. Thanks."
I nod my head and rock back on my heels, trying to look anywhere but at Angel's lips. Angel's perfect, tasty, kissable lips...
Blah. I didn't think this would be so awkward, but what do you say to a person when you were nearly caught massaging their tonsils by your mother?
"So..." he mumbles, picking at the sleeve of the white T-shirt he changed into after the traumatic death of 'Silky, the Official Shirt of SexGodliness'.
"Soooo," I mumble back. God, this is becoming painful. Okay, let's just... wing it. "We DID just kiss back there, didn't we? That wasn't, like, my horribly overactive imagination, was it?"
His eyes widen in shock. "Uh, no. No, we... yes, we kissed."
I smile a little nervously and take a couple slow steps towards him. I reach up and play with the crew collar of his shirt. His eyes close. So fun! "Sooo... wanna do it again?"
"Yes," he breathes hoarsely. I grin and lean forward on my tip-toes before his eyes shoot open and he stumbles back a step. "I mean, no. No. We... we really shouldn't."
I blink at him in confusion and a little hurt. "What? Why?"
He shakes his head like he's trying to clear it. "We just shouldn't. Buffy, I-- we shouldn't."
"Why not?" I demand, leaning my hands on my hips in frustration. "Don't-- don't you like kissing me?"
"GOD yes," he exhales in a ragged breath. I can't help but smile. My sentiments exactly!
"Good. Because I like kissing you. So... what's the problem?"
"I'm only going to be here for four and a half more weeks. I've only known you for... what? Two days?" he sighs and my happy smile starts to crack. He's brushing me off, isn't he? This really, really sucks. "Buffy, the way I'm starting to feel about you... I don't want to be with you for a couple weeks and then never see you again. I don't think I could do that."
Okay, that didn't SOUND like brushing off. "Me too. I mean... I don't either. But it doesn't have to be like that! People have, you know, long distance relationships. And stuff. Or-or... we could... move to France?"
"What? Why France?"
"I... don't know. Because my mother doesn't live there?" I offer helpfully.
And also... the French? I'm a fan of their kissing.
... Just saying!
"I don't think that would help," he replies, smiling a little again. "But you're right. Maybe we could work something out. It might be hard for a while, though..."
"I don't care."
"You're sure?"
"WAY sure."
His smile blossoms into a full-blown grin. I feel dizzy. "Alright. I don't care so much, either."
"Good. So... time for kissing?" I ask, smiling coyly.
"As much fun as that would be, I really don't feel like being interrupted by your mother again," he says before gently pushing me back towards my bed. I, of course, get the wrong idea and tug happily at his sleeve to bring him with me.
He ignores my pathetic attempts at overpowering him and I whine at him pitifully. "Aaangel."
"Buffy," he reprimands gently. "Tomorrow we'll talk... figure out what we're going to do."
Does 'talking' involve me ripping off all your clothes and doodling my name on your chest with my tongue?
Because I'm a talkative girl!
"Just talk?" I ask sadly.
"Well... mostly."
I grin stupidly. Good enough for me! "Okay. So... tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," he echoes before leaning down and kissing my forehead softly.
I nod sleepily, curl up under the covers, and snake a hand out to turn off my new favorite desklamp. The room goes dark and I immediately snap my eyes shut and get comfortable, smiling like a psychopath.
After all, the sooner I fall asleep the sooner tomorrow comes and I can get back to my new favorite hobby: Kissing Angel. Also known as, 'Crack 2: The Addiction Continues'.
And trust me, it's not a habit I intend to kick.
