Author: Rachel
Email:
Pairings: B/A
Disclaimer: Joss owns everyone, I own nothing. I'm simply taking them out to play with.
Distribution: Ask first!!!
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post NFA
Notes: Basically the result of my pouting muse, a conversation about Orlando Bloom and my own narcissism.
Summary: Even years later, her beauty still surprises him.
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)
Since the moments I laid eyes on her, I've always thought of her as the most beautiful creature on earth. But still, there are moments when I, the constant watcher of the goddess, am caught off guard by it.
It's late, three am, we got home only a half an hour ago from patrol that she still insist on doing. She once told me about the monsters under her bed and how she couldn't pretend they weren't there anymore. It's taken me years, but I've finally accepted that she's the slayer; she'll never have normal, even if there are others to fight in her place. It's something in her she can't fight against. And if that's the case, then I'll protect her the best way I know how; fighting alongside her, trusting her to trust me.
Although for people who have accepted they can't have it, what we're doing right now is decidedly normal.
She reaches over the sink to grab something and accidentally knocking over several bottles and toiletries on the counter. She swears softly, probably something I wouldn't have heard but for vampire hearing, scowls and goes about picking things up. She doesn't seem to notice I'm leaning on the door frame watching her. I'm still fascinated by her; the way she moves, the little way her nose crinkles when she frowns and why someone so graceful can be so clumsy sometimes.
As she bends over, the piece of hair tucked behind her ear falls forward and frames her face. She's too involved in cursing at her vanilla lotion to move it. I want to do it for her, but I'm too enamored to move from my spot and ruin this moment.
She's wearing her yummy sushi pajama bottoms that I got her after she lost them in the destruction of Sunnydale and a silky thin strapped top, because it's warm out and she likes sleeping with the window open. I had to move Hell and high water, literally, to find those pajamas for her. They had been one of her favorites and were, oddly enough, one of things she missed most. So I killed a few demons, raided a few stores. It took me a whole two weeks to find a guy who did special order pajamas and another three weeks before they were delivered. It cost me an arm and a leg, not literally, but her squeal of delight was enough to make it worth it. And her other ways of thanks...Well let's say she wasn't the only one who was happy that night.
Yeah, my soul is no longer an issue. After Willow made the slayers her next project, as it turns out, was me. She spent a full year looking for a way to bind my soul. She came to me after the final battle with Wolfram & Hart with a backpack full of herbs, salt and spell. It was actually a lot less painful than I was expecting. There was a salt circle, burning herbs and Willow chanting in languages even I didn't understand. The world felt like it was spinning then I felt like I got struck by lighting or a stun gun. Willow said I only passed out for ten minutes, and I wasn't even awake five before she shoved the phone at me and threatened to reverse the spell if I didn't tell Buffy that second. I still don't know if she actually could have, but even the demon knows better than to cross a witch as powerful as her.
So I called her, as soon as the words 'soul' and 'bound' were out of my mouth she was on a plane to LA. About twenty hours later, we were in my bedroom at the Hyperion making love for two days straight. We bonded in those hours, we realized that whatever issues we needed to work through, were almost unimportant, not completely but, we knew that this was it. This was our forever and nothing and no one was going to break us this time. We talked about everything: Spike, Darla, Nina, Riley, Connor and why I was really at Wolfram and Hart. My leaving her, her affair with the Immortal, (which turned out not to be true,) her mother's death, even the day we lost. We agreed no running away until we talked about everything and to our credit, we both stuck with it. It was hard sometimes, probably harder for her than me. There was yelling, tears and even a few thrown punches. (Once after she found I changed her memories twice, and once for thinking she was stupid enough to date the Immortal.) After everything was said, she kissed my lips and declared herself as baked she would ever be, then curled up at my side and slept. I stayed up watching her, counting her breaths and heartbeats.
That was two years ago, and she hasn't left since.
And I still love watching her.
She finishes cleaning up her mess when she finally notices me. She turns her head so the loose hair is resting on her cheek. The scowl fades and she starts to smile. Her nose crinkles and her eyes light up and I find myself struck by her beauty, like the lightening bolt that hit when my soul was bound. She is a picture I could paint endlessly and never be bored or uninterested, always finding new light to see her in, and new hair to paint, another detail I've missed.
"What?" She asks finally, her nose crinkling even more.
I shake my head, how do you explain to a goddess that her beauty is beyond words?
"You're stunning." I breathe. She ducks her head, blushing like a school girl at the complement and shakes her head. I enjoy that fact that I can do that to her, that I can make her feel special and wanted.
"No, I'm not," she says.
"Yes, you are," I walk over to her and lift her chin until our eyes meet. "You're the most amazingly beautiful thing, heart, mind, body and soul that I have seen in my entire existence." Even those words aren't enough to describe what I see in her. Every attempt I make, verbal or otherwise seems to fall short of my true feelings for her.
"Angel," she starts in protest but I silence her with a kiss, because I can't bear not to have my lips not on hers for any longer. She moans sweetly into my mouth as I pull away. She wants more, just like I do. I can't remember a day when I didn't.
"Ready for bed?" She asks as I brush that loose piece of hair behind her ear. I nod and take her hand as we walk out of the bathroom. Her silver claddagh ring shines in the light as she turns off the light. I gave it back to her the morning after we talked. I found it on the mansion floor before I left her. I've been keeping ever since, in a box next to mine, waiting to put it back on her hand. She pulls me down on the bed, her fingers brushing against my matching ring as they work their way up my arm. Her lips find mine and I'm in heaven.
I make love to my wife, my friend, my soulmate. Words of love and passion and pleasure sweeten the air around us.
When we're sated, she'll sleep in my arms and I'll watch her.
There's no greater wonder in the world than her. At three am, her grace belongs to no one but me.
And I'm honored.