Don't know who these hockey players are, I just picked a few random names from the LA Kings roster. Had to include a reference to my team, the Bruins :)

The song used, "America's Sweetheart" is by Elle King.

No there ain't nothing that I gotta prove,
You think your words will make me black and blue,
But I, I think I'm pretty with these old boots on.
I think it's funny when I drink too much, hey,
You try and change me you can go to hell,
Cause I don't want to be nobody else.
I like the chip I got in my front teeth,
And I got bad tattoos you won't believe.

Gunn, Wesley, and Angel stepped out of Gunn's truck and walked towards Cordelia's front door. Gunn shifted the case of beer in his arms and mumbled, "Damn, it's still hot out."

The guys stepped into Cordelia's apartment and were greeted with the sight of Cordy and Fred sitting on the couch, giggling loudly as they sipped glasses of margaritas and swayed slightly to the loud music that was playing. The girls barely acknowledged the guys entering the apartment, and only looked up at them when Gunn said, "Um, hi! We came with reinforcements." He gestured to the case of beer under his arm.

Cordelia and Fred just looked at each other and dissolved into another fit of giggles. Gunn scowled slightly at them. Ever since they had brought Fred back from Pylea, he had found himself drawn to the smart girl. He vaguely wondered what they had been talking about.

Angel knew Buffy had spent the afternoon here with Cordy and Fred, but noted her absence from the living room. The high of traveling had dissipated after they had returned from their trip to Ireland following her resurrection. Angel recalled how Buffy enthusiastically told her family and friends back in Sunnydale about their weeks long trip, but then eventually retreated back within herself. The excitement of the trip was gone, and the crushing weight of being pulled out of Heaven returned.

As Wesley and Gunn chatted with Cordelia and Fred in the living room, Angel wandered into the kitchen.

So kick out the jams, kick up the soul,
Pour another glass of that rock and roll.
Turn up the band, fire in the hole,
Gonna lose control tonight.

He lingered in the doorway, smiling at what he saw. Buffy was moving around the kitchen, softly singing to the song that was blaring from the living room. Los Angeles was in the middle of a heat wave, so she was wearing a pair of soft cotton shorts, peach colored with white piping on the edges, and a black spaghetti strap tank top.

Angel swallowed hard as he looked over her tanned skin, but was content to watch her sway her hips to the music. He was just so happy to see her enjoying herself; for the moment forgetting the misery of being ripped out of Heaven.

Angel leaned against the doorframe, figuring that the margaritas were causing her to not to sense his presence. He watched as she sang along to the music coming from the living room as she made another pitcher of margaritas.

What do you want from me, I'm not America's sweetheart,
So beat the drum with me, I'm not America's sweetheart.
Well they say I'm too loud for this town,
So I lit a match and burned it down.
What do you want from me, I'm not America's sweetheart,
But you love me anyway.

Buffy softly moved her hips in time with the music blasting from the living room, singing along to the words she knew. As she danced, she poured the margarita mix into the pitcher full of ice, and then grabbed the bottle of tequila, topping it off. Still swaying slightly to the music, she stirred the pitcher with a wooden spoon and raised the container to her lips and took a sip.

My hands are dirty and my heart is cold,

The boys I've been with say I got no soul, when I,
I meet another honey at the bar,
I'll think its funny when I break his heart, mmm now.
My kind of medicine is whiskey straight,
I got a mouth to put you in your place, and they,
They said I'll never be the poster type,
But they don't make posters of my kind of life.

Still moving to the music, Buffy contemplated the taste of the drink she just made. Angel watched as she shrugged to herself and added another few splashes of tequila.

When she sipped again from the pitcher, Angel walked fully into the kitchen, making his presence known.

Buffy's face lit up when she saw Angel. She swallowed her mouthful of margarita, put the pitcher down and dashed over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. His arms automatically surrounded her body and he smiled down at her.

"Hi," she said, resting her chin on his chest and gazing up at him.

Angel wanted to respond, but found himself struggling to do so. The way she was beaming at him… It was just so good to see her smile again and enjoying life that he was at a loss for words.

Angel just smiled down at Buffy and ran his hand through her soft hair. At his silence, Buffy asked, "What?"

Angel continued to smile and stroke her hair, but eventually said, "It's just good to see you happy."

Buffy smiled back at him, understanding what he meant. "Well, the margaritas help. You want one?" she asked him.

He didn't answer, but just leaned down to press his lips against hers. Buffy smiled against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue inside. He tasted her fully before she had to break away for air.

Angel smiled down at her and said, "Tastes better on you."

Buffy just laughed at him and asked, "How was the game?"

As if on cue, Gunn came into the kitchen, carrying the case of beer, and said, "How was the game? Umm, how about INCREDIBLE?!"

Buffy just laughed softly and wrapped her arm around Angel's middle. Gunn passed Angel a beer from the case, grabbing one for himself, and put the rest in Cordelia's refrigerator.

"Buffy, it was insane," Gunn said to her, cracking his beer. "Kings were down one, when out of nowhere Gaborik passes the puck to Brown…" he put his beer down on the counter and mimed using a hockey stick to pass an invisible puck to Angel, who released Buffy and used his own "hockey stick" to receive the "puck" from Gunn.

"And then Brown fires it off to Carter…" Angel continued. Buffy raised her eyebrow and an amused smile came across her face as Angel imitated passing a hockey puck back to Gunn.

Gunn shot the invisible puck into an invisible goal and said, "And score! Tied it up, and we beat the Bruins in overtime." Gunn finished with a smile and took a long swig of his beer.

Buffy looked between the two men and said, "Sounds fun…" She didn't sound very convinced.

Wesley strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge, rooting around for a beer. "Personally, I don't believe that grown men on ice skates punching each other actually qualifies as a sport," he said, popping open his beer and leaning against the counter. Angel looked as though Wesley had personally offended him and Buffy tried not to laugh at the expression on her boyfriend's face.

"Now, football, there's a true sport," Wesley continued. Gunn opened his mouth to retaliate, but Wesley cut him off saying, "Not your horrid American 'football', I mean real football."

Gunn just stared at him in shock and said, "How dare you…football is a staple of American culture!"

Wesley walked past him and headed towards the living room. "American culture?!" he asked incredulously. "The only culture America has is guns, fast food, and obesity!"

Gunn followed Wesley down the hall into the living room, "Yeah and we're proud of it!"

Buffy laughed to herself and went to follow them into the living room. When she noticed Angel wasn't following her, she looked back at him questioningly and held out her hand to him.

Angel had watched the whole exchange between Gunn and Wesley with amusement. Looking at Buffy, waiting for him to follow her, he was overcome with a sudden rush of gratefulness. If someone had told him 100 years ago that he would fall in love with a Slayer, and have just watched an ex-Watcher argue with his friend about sports, he would have never believed it.

As he intertwined his fingers with Buffy's and followed her down the hallway, he was thankful that his life wasn't anything other than this.