Title: I Love Nietzsche
Author: Sarah
Feedback: Love it, please leave it. . .positive or negative
Pairing: Umm. . .I'm gonna take that as a rhetorical. . .
Word Count:
Rating: PG-13ish
Genre: Fluff and nonsense
Summary: Angel's smarter than she thinks she is.
Notes: I started with the idea that Angel would never understand Nietzsche. I had only ever read scholarly articles on his work (never had to read him directly for either a theatre or an education degree), and assumed his work was just as esoteric as all of the abstracts painted it. I was wrong. Once I started reading, I realized that yeah, Angel could understand this stuff, she just might need a little help. So, this fic got cuter by the damn minute.
Special Thanks: To the usual suspects: pockyjunkie
retromelon, scotsinkilts, shillaire, and sflynn, who all rock my socks for their inspiration, their opinions and help.
Spoilers: nopenopenope
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: If I owned them. . .no, you know . . . I don't think we want to think about what I'd do if I owned them. I don't, and that's enough to think about.

Collins smirked as he looked over at his lover nodding off over a book.
"Honey, do you want to go to bed?"
Her eyes jolted open. "No. No, I'm fine."
"Ok," he replied, chuckling.
She resettled herself, draped across the opposite end of the sofa, tossed him a reproachful glance and continued to read. When he looked up again, her eyes were completely closed and the book was ready to fall to the floor. He moved quickly to rescue it, and in so doing, managed to wake her again.
"Sorry, baby. I didn't want the book to make noise and wake you."
"I wasn't asleep."
"Sure, you weren't." He grinned.
She glared in return. "Can I have the book back, please?"
"Yes, love," he replied, standing up. He bent to kiss her forehead and handed over the book. Moving away, he went to the refrigerator and deliberated a while before choosing a beer. He twisted off the top and went back to the couch, where he picked up his own book again, but didn't open it. Instead, he watched as Angel's eyelids grew heavy time and again, as she fought off sleep. Finally, her body won, and she was fully out. He let her stay there for a few minutes, just watching her with a smile on his face. Once he figured she was good and asleep, he put down his beer and stood again, moving softly towards her. He took the book again, over her incoherent objections, then put his right arm behind her back and his left under her legs. He lifted her carefully and took her to bed.
"Wasn't asleep . . ." she insisted as he set her down, her eyes still closed, voice fuzzy with sleep.
"I know, baby," he replied gently, kissing her forehead. He watched her as she snuggled into their bed, a sweetly innocent look coming over her features as her body settled itself into deep sleep. He couldn't imagine loving someone more. Finally, he took off his own clothes and got into bed with her, pulling her inert form comfortably into his arms before dropping off himself.
--
The following morning, he was awakened with kisses. He opened his eyes to see her face just inches from his own.
"Morning, honey," she trilled cheerfully.
Please, God, whoever thought I'd be in love with a morning person? But in love he was, there was no denying it, and her smile cheered him so much that he had to return it, at least a little.
"Mornin'," he mumbled.
"I've made breakfast!"
"Mmm-kay," he replied, yawning widely and trying to shake the cobwebs out of his brain.
"C'mon."
"M'comin',"
He stood, willing his body to comply and be ready to wake up, as she skipped back down the hallway.
She had made them a wonderful breakfast, and he awoke slowly, drinking coffee and eating her good cooking. Once breakfast was over, he did the dishes as she went back into the living room.
When he joined her, he found her staring at the cover of the book she'd been trying to read last night. Hearing him come into the room, she looked up, a guilty expression on her face, tears brimming in her eyes.
"What's the matter, baby?"
"It's just that I . . . I tried so hard to read this. I want to be smarter, have more education, but I guess I'm just stupid." She began to cry in earnest at the word 'stupid.'
"Oh, honey, stupid is the last thing you are." He went to her quickly. Kneeling in front of her, he took the book from her hands, put it down, and then took both of her hands in his. Lovingly, he kissed her knuckles. "God, I love you. Don't you know that?"
"Yes," she sniffed. "But I don't know why."
"Don't know wh-. . . Angel, you are the most amazing human being I've ever met. I count myself lucky every day that you choose to spend with me."
"But I-"
"No buts, Miss Schunard. I know people, and I know stupid. Believe me, I teach. I know stupid. And you, my love, are not stupid."
She smiled a little, through her tears.
"I'm not?"
"No, honey."
"Then . . . why couldn't I get through that book?"
Collins picked up the book and turned it over to read the cover.
"The Birth of Tragedy? Honey, that's Nietzsche. The deep shit."
"Uh-huh, and I couldn't even read every other page."
Collins tried not to laugh as he opened the book.
"Babe, that's 'cause this is a bi-lingual edition. The even pages are all in German."
"Oh."
Collins climbed up on the couch with her and took her into his arms.
"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.
"Uh-huh," she replied, still sniffling faintly.
"I fell asleep while reading that."
"You did?" She couldn't suppress a little giggle.
"Uh-huh. Several times. Still haven't read it cover to cover."
Her eyes widened as she pulled away to stare at him.
"But you teach from it!"
"Uhh. . .yeah," he responded, laughing.
Her mouth dropped open and she started really giggling then. Somehow it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard that her brilliant lover taught from a book which he hadn't completely finished reading.
He endured her laughter with an indulgent expression. Once the giggles had tapered off and she was settled leaning back into his arms, he pulled out another book and held it in front of both of them.
"Here's where you should be starting," he said, opening the book. She pushed his hand back so she could read the cover.
"Twilight of the Idols? Ugh, sweetie, no more Nietzsche, ok?"
"You'll like this, I promise." He read the first line of the foreword aloud to her: "Here, listen: 'To stay cheerful when involved in a gloomy and exceedingly responsible business is no inconsiderable art: yet what could be more necessary than cheerfulness? Nothing succeeds in which high spirits play no part. Only excess of strength is proof of strength.'"
Her smile had grown throughout that passage.
"You're right, I do like that!"
"It just speaks of your life, doesn't it?" He flipped through a few pages and stopped at another passage. "Here's another bit I like: 'What? You have chosen virtue and the heaving bosom, yet at the same time look with envy on the advantages enjoyed by those who live for the day?'"
"That sounds like how people look at Mimi and me."
"Yup. Nietzsche was a smart guy!"
The two of them spent about an hour that way, Angel feeling cozy and warm in his arms while Collins shared his favorite passages with her. Finally, he closed the book. Angel was surprised to find herself disappointed. He took off his glasses, stretched and yawned a little bit, then kissed Angel's head. She snuggled with him awhile then abruptly sat up, turned around, and kissed him.
"Thank you," she said.
"What for baby?"
"For . . . making me feel smart." She smiled a little, and averted her eyes when she said this, embarrassed.
"Honey, what did I tell you? You are smart," he said softly, kissing her again.
"Maybe, but no one's ever taken the time to show me before."
"No one has ever read to you?"
"No."
"Not even when you were little?"
"I don't think my mama could read."
"Well, then, we'll have to work on that, then won't we?"
She nuzzled her nose into his, eyes closed, then settled her head down on his chest. It occurred to him how intelligent she was, how far she had come and he wondered if he couldn't help her get further, if perhaps that was a part of why she had met him. Even atheists were allowed to believe in fate.
He reached down and kissed the top of her springy curls again, then said: "Hey Ang?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"How'd you like the chance to prove just how smart I know you are?"
"What do you mean?" She lifted her head and looked into his face.
"The new quarter starts in a couple of weeks. What do you say you and I go down to NYU and see if we can't get you into a few classes." He saw her eyes widen a little in fear. "Maybe you can start out auditing a few classes, then once you get a little more confidence, we'll enroll you in one or two pass/fail. C'mon babe, what do you say? You could use something to do during the day, and maybe someone else telling you how amazing you are will finally make you believe it."
"But? But?" Angel was overwhelmed. "How will we pay for it?"
"I'll go pull a few strings. All faculty and staff are allowed to enroll family members for free. I'll just go down there and smile all nice at the administration and personnel departments and see what I can do."
"Oh God, sweetie, I just don't know. . ."
Collins looked down at Angel's face as it knotted in terror. He passed his hands gently over her face, carefully trying to smooth out the tension in her forehead and around her eyes.
"Don't worry baby, you'll be brilliant. Now . . ." he grinned, tangling his fingers in her hair. "What are you going to wear?"