Stumble Into Grace- Chapter 21
-Buffy-
I wake up tired. I don't think there is ever a time when I'm not tired. I drag myself into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I go jump in the shower while the coffee is percolating and let the steaming water wake me up. I get out of the shower and towel dry off. I throw on a pair of sweats and a tank top. I twine my damp hair up into a severe bun and go to wake up Angel. I lay down next to Angel, stretching my body out the entire length of his. I kiss his lips softly. He responds sleepily, pulling at my lips with his. His arms come up around me and fold me into him. I sigh into our kiss and tangle my fingers in his hair.
This is my favorite part of the day. There's always a few minutes here before Angel completely wakes up. In those few minutes he kisses me like he always has, like he'll die if his lips aren't on mine. Then he wakes up completely, remembers our situation and turns grumpy. He doesn't even want to try to make love. He's afraid he won't be able to and somehow he thinks that would matter to me. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with the man when a moment of pure happiness turned him into a monster, but for some reason the idea that I'd spend the rest of my life with him despite the fact we still can't have sex never occurs to him.
He pulls away from me. I know he's awake now. I hold onto him for a few seconds, just so he knows I'm not the one letting go.
"Good morning." I say.
He growls. "What's so good about it?"
"I got to wake up with you." I say. "Now come on. I stayed in the shower to long today. We're running late."
Now that his cast is off, Angel's natural predatory grace has returned, granted it's limited to his upper body. I park his wheelchair next to the bed. He fluidly levers himself into the chair.
"Do you want a bagel?" I ask.
"Sure, strawberry cream cheese please." He says.
He's not as angry as he once was. He's not happy either. He rolls toward the bathroom. He's far more self sufficient then he used to be. We have a bench in the shower now and he's able to get in and out of it with relative ease. I sit at the table and drink my coffee, an ear always tuned to listen for Angel. I hear the shower turn off and I walk into our bedroom. He has the bathroom door open and steam is rolling out. I lounge against the door frame watching him with a smile. He's got a towel over his lap and he's still damp from the shower. He still shaves by touch. Tears rush to my eyes.
"God, you're beautiful." I whisper.
He looks up at me and for one second forgets to scowl. Then his hand bumps against the arm of his wheelchair and the moment is ruined. I sigh as the scowl comes over his beautiful features and turn to go finish my coffee.
"Buffy, wait." He says.
I stop and turn back around to him.
"I'm sorry." He says.
"Angel, you don't have anything to be sorry for."
"I do. I've made your life a freak show again." He says.
"No, Angel, you've made my life beautiful again." I walk over to him and sit down on his lap. I cup his cheek with my hand. "There is no place here or in Heaven I'd rather be then where I am right now."
He stares intently into my eyes and tears fill his. "You're happy."
"You make me happy, just being here with you like this." I say.
He nods. "Your eyes are green."
-Angel-
My life is...surprisingly not as bad as I thought it would be. Yes I wish I could walk. I wish I could make love to Buffy. I wish I could pick her up and carry her across the threshold. I can't. But I do get to fall asleep with her in my arms every night and every morning she wakes me up with a kiss. Things could be worse, things have been worse. I guess this is the stage of my "recovery" as The Asshole says where I start to be grateful for what I do have.
The only real progress I can see is that my upper body strength is increasing. I am more self sufficient. There's very little I have to have Buffy help me with anymore. I'm getting close to the two month mark of my paralysis and I'm afraid this is it. I'm afraid for the rest of my life I will be in this chair. I scrub my hand through my hair and look in the mirror. I don't know who I am. I was always a champion for the Powers, or the vampire with a soul, or the scourge of Europe. Now I'm just a guy in a wheelchair who doesn't do anything. It's a long way to fall from champion to nobody.
Buffy interrupts my brooding by twining her arms around me from behind. I reach up and take her hand in mine. I kiss her knuckles. I love her hands. You can look at Buffy's hands and tell volumes about her. They are tiny delicate looking hands but if you look closer you'll see the callous on her palm from countless weapons. Her hands have surprising strength in them, just like Buffy has surprising strength in her.
"Quarter for your thoughts." She says.
"Wow, inflation. In my time they only cost you a pence." I say with a half smile.
She walks around and sits down on my lap. "They looked like pretty deep thoughts. I figured they were worth at least a quarter. So you gonna tell me?"
"Nothing important, just generic brooding." I say.
"Willow and Oz invited us on a double date. We could go to the movies." She says.
I sigh. Buffy and I haven't been out of the apartment except for therapy since the accident. "You should go."
"Angel, I don't want to go without you." She says.
"Buffy, I don't want to spend an entire night with everyone staring at me wondering what the hell a gorgeous girl like you is doing with a cripple." I say.
She rolls her eyes. "Actually the girls will be wondering how I got a guy like you. Angel, come on, this isn't about anyone else. This is about you and me going out with our friends. It doesn't bother me, or Willow or Oz. Why should anyone else matter?"
"Because it does. You're not the one being stared at." I say sullenly.
"Hello, blew up my high school. You don't think I've never been stared at before?" She says.
I sigh. "Buffy,"
"Angel, you can't hide away in this apartment for the next four months. Part of recovering is actually getting out there and living your life." She says.
I grumble. "Alright, if you really want to go, I'll go."
It's almost worth it to hear her squeal with delight. She throws her arms around me and kisses me with complete abandon. I wrap one arm around her, crushing her to me. I tangle my fingers in her hair. She moans softly and it causes me to growl low in my throat. She smiles against my mouth and dips her head. She places a kiss on the pulse at my neck. She knows this drives me crazy. She nips at my neck with her teeth. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel and smell of her. This is the closest I've let her get since the accident, at least while I've been completely awake.
She runs her little tongue up my throat and brings her lips back to mine. She purrs against my mouth.
"Mmm, missed this." She says breathlessly.
I swallow. "Me too."
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers, the tips of our noses touching, our lips only a breath apart. It feels good to be like this with her. I realize with a thrill that my body is responding to her, somewhat. That's an improvement from where I was a month ago. I open my eyes and grin at her.
"If we're going to the movies you better call Willow and go get ready." I say.
She smiles easily at me. "Okay, I won't be long."
Buffy comes back into the living room wearing a pair of tight faded jeans and a white sweater. From this vantage point it's easy to notice her ass was made for tight jeans. I smile to myself. I realize I feel almost the way I did when I lived in Sunnydale, like a hormone driven seventeen year old boy. Leave it to Buffy to make me feel alive again. The only time I ever really felt alive was around her.
*
Dinner and the movie aren't as bad as I thought it would be. Yes people stare at me and I can often see pity in some of their eyes. I stare right back at them. I've had centuries to master an intimidating stare. They always look away first. Buffy walks along just behind me, her hand on my shoulder. The Asshole has drilled into her that she doesn't need to push me. It's good for me to roll myself along. She ignores the stares that are directed our way. My mood fluctuates throughout the evening. I swing from being pissed at the world and feeling almost normal.
The nicest part of the movie, some suspense thriller, is when Buffy slides out of her seat and into my lap. She claims she's scared. She's a slayer. I really doubt a movie is going to scare her. It's kind of nice, knowing that the reason she's in my lap has nothing to do with being scared. Everyone looks at us as I wheel us both out of the movie theater. For once, I don't care. It occurs to me that the group of guys staring at us could possibly be thinking lucky bastard instead of what's she doing with him?
*
I watch her through the window. It's still one of my favorite activities. She's wearing a slip of a mint green dress and dancing with the waves. She catches me watching and beckons me outside. I smile at her and stand up. I walk outside. She meets me half way, lacing her fingers with mine.
I wake up with a start. It takes me a minute to identify what woke me. It was my foot. My foot moved. I was dreaming about walking toward Buffy and my foot moved. I glance down at Buffy. She's snoring softly, snuggled up next to me, her head buried in my shoulder. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and concentrate on moving my foot. It takes a moment, the reflexes are sorely lacking, but I can make my foot move, not very far, just a half an inch or so.
I lie in bed the rest of the night grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot. I can't wait until Buffy wakes up in the morning so I can tell her.
-Buffy-
I wake up slowly and realize I'm smiling. I hope Angel and I are on our way to a real life together, one that doesn't involve one of us leaving every few months. I stretch and yawn. I walk into the kitchen to put the coffee on. I'll let Angel sleep late this morning since he doesn't have physical therapy on Saturdays. I stand under the hot stream for a long time, letting it wake me up. I get out and wrap myself in a robe. I leave my wet hair trailing down my back. I take a deep breath. I love the smell of coffee. I pad barefoot into the kitchen. I am surprised to see Angel already awake sitting at the kitchen table. He has a bagel and a cup of coffee sitting out for me. I smile at him. He looks like a sleep rumpled little boy somehow.
"Morning. You're up early." I say.
He smiles at me. I realize it's a smile that actually reaches his eyes. I draw in a sharp intake of breath. I'd almost forgotten how his eyes twinkle when he lets the smile actually reach them.
"You should do that more often." I say.
"Make you coffee and bagels?" He asks.
"No, smile a real smile." I answer.
He does it again. "I'll try."
"Not that I'm complaining, because no complaining here, but what's the occasion?" I gesture to the coffee and bagel in front of me.
"I'm in love with a beautiful woman who's in love with me, and I moved my foot last night." He says nonchalantly.
It takes me a minute to process the information. My mouth falls open and I swear my jaw hits the table.
"Oh my God! Angel, you waited all this time to tell me!" I jump up from the table and throw myself into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as tight as I can.
"Buffy, breathing becoming an issue here." He croaks.
"Oh! Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I'm just excited. Angel, wow that's wonderful. I mean that's a start right? Maybe we should call the doctor and see if he can get you in or we could call Patrick and let him know. He might want to see you."
"Buffy, slow down. It wasn't much. I moved it maybe an inch and I had to concentrate to do it. It could have even been a muscle spasm. There's no need to tell the world, moving my foot is a long way from actually walking. I don't want you to get your hopes up." He says.
I stare at him. How can he do a 180 like that? "Ok, you were excited like a minute ago now you're Mr. Cautious?"
"I just don't want you to pin all your hopes on my walking again." He says.
"Angel, I don't get you. You were excited about this, until I got excited then all the sudden you're all back to dark, broody and grumpy. So it's okay for you to be excited about it but I don't get to be? Don't you think I want this for you as much as you do?"
"Oh, you want it for me?" He says. "I guess it doesn't have anything to do with wanting a boyfriend who can walk."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap back.
"You know what it means. I saw a whole group of guys ogling you last night. They all seemed to be able to walk just fine. I'm sure any one of them would jump at the chance to go out with you." He says.
I stare at him. I shove myself off his lap. I cross my arms over my stomach. "No, you do not get to do this. I have been here with you every single step of this hell we have gone through. I don't regret one single second, there is no where else I'd rather be then by your side, but I get to share the high points of this with you too. You are not going to take that away from me. I've earned that!" I can't help it. I break down in tears. I've been strong for so long and I'm so tired of it. I sink down to the floor and sob out all the pain and unfairness of the past two months.
He scoops me up under the arms and sits me in his lap in one fluid movement. He smoothes my hair and murmurs softly in my ear.
"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm sorry." He whispers.
I try to tell him its okay but it hitches in my throat and comes out a sob. He starts singing very softly something that's not English. He tucks my head in the crook of his neck. It's funny how that place fits my head so perfectly, like it was made for me. I sob until my throat is sore from it and my eyes are swollen. I don't even want to know what I look like.
"Please, just let me share the good things as well as the bad things with you." I whisper. My voice sounds thick and tired.
"I will. I'm sorry. I know I haven't been very fair to you. I'm going to try and do better. Just have patience with me, please." He says.
I nod against his chest. He kisses my forehead.
"Thank you." He says after a moment.
"For crying all over you and turning you yet again into a handkerchief?" I ask.
"For being you." He says.
-Buffy-
I wake up tired. I don't think there is ever a time when I'm not tired. I drag myself into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I go jump in the shower while the coffee is percolating and let the steaming water wake me up. I get out of the shower and towel dry off. I throw on a pair of sweats and a tank top. I twine my damp hair up into a severe bun and go to wake up Angel. I lay down next to Angel, stretching my body out the entire length of his. I kiss his lips softly. He responds sleepily, pulling at my lips with his. His arms come up around me and fold me into him. I sigh into our kiss and tangle my fingers in his hair.
This is my favorite part of the day. There's always a few minutes here before Angel completely wakes up. In those few minutes he kisses me like he always has, like he'll die if his lips aren't on mine. Then he wakes up completely, remembers our situation and turns grumpy. He doesn't even want to try to make love. He's afraid he won't be able to and somehow he thinks that would matter to me. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with the man when a moment of pure happiness turned him into a monster, but for some reason the idea that I'd spend the rest of my life with him despite the fact we still can't have sex never occurs to him.
He pulls away from me. I know he's awake now. I hold onto him for a few seconds, just so he knows I'm not the one letting go.
"Good morning." I say.
He growls. "What's so good about it?"
"I got to wake up with you." I say. "Now come on. I stayed in the shower to long today. We're running late."
Now that his cast is off, Angel's natural predatory grace has returned, granted it's limited to his upper body. I park his wheelchair next to the bed. He fluidly levers himself into the chair.
"Do you want a bagel?" I ask.
"Sure, strawberry cream cheese please." He says.
He's not as angry as he once was. He's not happy either. He rolls toward the bathroom. He's far more self sufficient then he used to be. We have a bench in the shower now and he's able to get in and out of it with relative ease. I sit at the table and drink my coffee, an ear always tuned to listen for Angel. I hear the shower turn off and I walk into our bedroom. He has the bathroom door open and steam is rolling out. I lounge against the door frame watching him with a smile. He's got a towel over his lap and he's still damp from the shower. He still shaves by touch. Tears rush to my eyes.
"God, you're beautiful." I whisper.
He looks up at me and for one second forgets to scowl. Then his hand bumps against the arm of his wheelchair and the moment is ruined. I sigh as the scowl comes over his beautiful features and turn to go finish my coffee.
"Buffy, wait." He says.
I stop and turn back around to him.
"I'm sorry." He says.
"Angel, you don't have anything to be sorry for."
"I do. I've made your life a freak show again." He says.
"No, Angel, you've made my life beautiful again." I walk over to him and sit down on his lap. I cup his cheek with my hand. "There is no place here or in Heaven I'd rather be then where I am right now."
He stares intently into my eyes and tears fill his. "You're happy."
"You make me happy, just being here with you like this." I say.
He nods. "Your eyes are green."
-Angel-
My life is...surprisingly not as bad as I thought it would be. Yes I wish I could walk. I wish I could make love to Buffy. I wish I could pick her up and carry her across the threshold. I can't. But I do get to fall asleep with her in my arms every night and every morning she wakes me up with a kiss. Things could be worse, things have been worse. I guess this is the stage of my "recovery" as The Asshole says where I start to be grateful for what I do have.
The only real progress I can see is that my upper body strength is increasing. I am more self sufficient. There's very little I have to have Buffy help me with anymore. I'm getting close to the two month mark of my paralysis and I'm afraid this is it. I'm afraid for the rest of my life I will be in this chair. I scrub my hand through my hair and look in the mirror. I don't know who I am. I was always a champion for the Powers, or the vampire with a soul, or the scourge of Europe. Now I'm just a guy in a wheelchair who doesn't do anything. It's a long way to fall from champion to nobody.
Buffy interrupts my brooding by twining her arms around me from behind. I reach up and take her hand in mine. I kiss her knuckles. I love her hands. You can look at Buffy's hands and tell volumes about her. They are tiny delicate looking hands but if you look closer you'll see the callous on her palm from countless weapons. Her hands have surprising strength in them, just like Buffy has surprising strength in her.
"Quarter for your thoughts." She says.
"Wow, inflation. In my time they only cost you a pence." I say with a half smile.
She walks around and sits down on my lap. "They looked like pretty deep thoughts. I figured they were worth at least a quarter. So you gonna tell me?"
"Nothing important, just generic brooding." I say.
"Willow and Oz invited us on a double date. We could go to the movies." She says.
I sigh. Buffy and I haven't been out of the apartment except for therapy since the accident. "You should go."
"Angel, I don't want to go without you." She says.
"Buffy, I don't want to spend an entire night with everyone staring at me wondering what the hell a gorgeous girl like you is doing with a cripple." I say.
She rolls her eyes. "Actually the girls will be wondering how I got a guy like you. Angel, come on, this isn't about anyone else. This is about you and me going out with our friends. It doesn't bother me, or Willow or Oz. Why should anyone else matter?"
"Because it does. You're not the one being stared at." I say sullenly.
"Hello, blew up my high school. You don't think I've never been stared at before?" She says.
I sigh. "Buffy,"
"Angel, you can't hide away in this apartment for the next four months. Part of recovering is actually getting out there and living your life." She says.
I grumble. "Alright, if you really want to go, I'll go."
It's almost worth it to hear her squeal with delight. She throws her arms around me and kisses me with complete abandon. I wrap one arm around her, crushing her to me. I tangle my fingers in her hair. She moans softly and it causes me to growl low in my throat. She smiles against my mouth and dips her head. She places a kiss on the pulse at my neck. She knows this drives me crazy. She nips at my neck with her teeth. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel and smell of her. This is the closest I've let her get since the accident, at least while I've been completely awake.
She runs her little tongue up my throat and brings her lips back to mine. She purrs against my mouth.
"Mmm, missed this." She says breathlessly.
I swallow. "Me too."
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers, the tips of our noses touching, our lips only a breath apart. It feels good to be like this with her. I realize with a thrill that my body is responding to her, somewhat. That's an improvement from where I was a month ago. I open my eyes and grin at her.
"If we're going to the movies you better call Willow and go get ready." I say.
She smiles easily at me. "Okay, I won't be long."
Buffy comes back into the living room wearing a pair of tight faded jeans and a white sweater. From this vantage point it's easy to notice her ass was made for tight jeans. I smile to myself. I realize I feel almost the way I did when I lived in Sunnydale, like a hormone driven seventeen year old boy. Leave it to Buffy to make me feel alive again. The only time I ever really felt alive was around her.
*
Dinner and the movie aren't as bad as I thought it would be. Yes people stare at me and I can often see pity in some of their eyes. I stare right back at them. I've had centuries to master an intimidating stare. They always look away first. Buffy walks along just behind me, her hand on my shoulder. The Asshole has drilled into her that she doesn't need to push me. It's good for me to roll myself along. She ignores the stares that are directed our way. My mood fluctuates throughout the evening. I swing from being pissed at the world and feeling almost normal.
The nicest part of the movie, some suspense thriller, is when Buffy slides out of her seat and into my lap. She claims she's scared. She's a slayer. I really doubt a movie is going to scare her. It's kind of nice, knowing that the reason she's in my lap has nothing to do with being scared. Everyone looks at us as I wheel us both out of the movie theater. For once, I don't care. It occurs to me that the group of guys staring at us could possibly be thinking lucky bastard instead of what's she doing with him?
*
I watch her through the window. It's still one of my favorite activities. She's wearing a slip of a mint green dress and dancing with the waves. She catches me watching and beckons me outside. I smile at her and stand up. I walk outside. She meets me half way, lacing her fingers with mine.
I wake up with a start. It takes me a minute to identify what woke me. It was my foot. My foot moved. I was dreaming about walking toward Buffy and my foot moved. I glance down at Buffy. She's snoring softly, snuggled up next to me, her head buried in my shoulder. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and concentrate on moving my foot. It takes a moment, the reflexes are sorely lacking, but I can make my foot move, not very far, just a half an inch or so.
I lie in bed the rest of the night grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot. I can't wait until Buffy wakes up in the morning so I can tell her.
-Buffy-
I wake up slowly and realize I'm smiling. I hope Angel and I are on our way to a real life together, one that doesn't involve one of us leaving every few months. I stretch and yawn. I walk into the kitchen to put the coffee on. I'll let Angel sleep late this morning since he doesn't have physical therapy on Saturdays. I stand under the hot stream for a long time, letting it wake me up. I get out and wrap myself in a robe. I leave my wet hair trailing down my back. I take a deep breath. I love the smell of coffee. I pad barefoot into the kitchen. I am surprised to see Angel already awake sitting at the kitchen table. He has a bagel and a cup of coffee sitting out for me. I smile at him. He looks like a sleep rumpled little boy somehow.
"Morning. You're up early." I say.
He smiles at me. I realize it's a smile that actually reaches his eyes. I draw in a sharp intake of breath. I'd almost forgotten how his eyes twinkle when he lets the smile actually reach them.
"You should do that more often." I say.
"Make you coffee and bagels?" He asks.
"No, smile a real smile." I answer.
He does it again. "I'll try."
"Not that I'm complaining, because no complaining here, but what's the occasion?" I gesture to the coffee and bagel in front of me.
"I'm in love with a beautiful woman who's in love with me, and I moved my foot last night." He says nonchalantly.
It takes me a minute to process the information. My mouth falls open and I swear my jaw hits the table.
"Oh my God! Angel, you waited all this time to tell me!" I jump up from the table and throw myself into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as tight as I can.
"Buffy, breathing becoming an issue here." He croaks.
"Oh! Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I'm just excited. Angel, wow that's wonderful. I mean that's a start right? Maybe we should call the doctor and see if he can get you in or we could call Patrick and let him know. He might want to see you."
"Buffy, slow down. It wasn't much. I moved it maybe an inch and I had to concentrate to do it. It could have even been a muscle spasm. There's no need to tell the world, moving my foot is a long way from actually walking. I don't want you to get your hopes up." He says.
I stare at him. How can he do a 180 like that? "Ok, you were excited like a minute ago now you're Mr. Cautious?"
"I just don't want you to pin all your hopes on my walking again." He says.
"Angel, I don't get you. You were excited about this, until I got excited then all the sudden you're all back to dark, broody and grumpy. So it's okay for you to be excited about it but I don't get to be? Don't you think I want this for you as much as you do?"
"Oh, you want it for me?" He says. "I guess it doesn't have anything to do with wanting a boyfriend who can walk."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap back.
"You know what it means. I saw a whole group of guys ogling you last night. They all seemed to be able to walk just fine. I'm sure any one of them would jump at the chance to go out with you." He says.
I stare at him. I shove myself off his lap. I cross my arms over my stomach. "No, you do not get to do this. I have been here with you every single step of this hell we have gone through. I don't regret one single second, there is no where else I'd rather be then by your side, but I get to share the high points of this with you too. You are not going to take that away from me. I've earned that!" I can't help it. I break down in tears. I've been strong for so long and I'm so tired of it. I sink down to the floor and sob out all the pain and unfairness of the past two months.
He scoops me up under the arms and sits me in his lap in one fluid movement. He smoothes my hair and murmurs softly in my ear.
"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm sorry." He whispers.
I try to tell him its okay but it hitches in my throat and comes out a sob. He starts singing very softly something that's not English. He tucks my head in the crook of his neck. It's funny how that place fits my head so perfectly, like it was made for me. I sob until my throat is sore from it and my eyes are swollen. I don't even want to know what I look like.
"Please, just let me share the good things as well as the bad things with you." I whisper. My voice sounds thick and tired.
"I will. I'm sorry. I know I haven't been very fair to you. I'm going to try and do better. Just have patience with me, please." He says.
I nod against his chest. He kisses my forehead.
"Thank you." He says after a moment.
"For crying all over you and turning you yet again into a handkerchief?" I ask.
"For being you." He says.