"You look happy."
Angel thought back to what Buffy had been telling him, and his smile widened.
"I guess I am."
"Well, it's weirding me out. Drink?"
Angel raised an eyebrow at her, casting a very accusatory glance. He may not have been the most shining example of straight edge sobriety, but even he was certain that the phrase "cold turkey" implied total alcoholic abstinence. Faith flashed her best puppy-dog eyes, just before wandering back into the kitchen. "Joking! It was a joke! Geez, you'd think Mr. Smiley would have a better sense of humor."
Angel knew it was unfair of him to be so amused and delighted by every quip Buffy threw his way, and then turn around and give Faith hell over even the most minor of infractions. But he couldn't help it. She needed him at his strongest, and his strongest took the very suggestion of relapse (or any other kind of danger) very seriously. He could hear his brunette roommate rummaging through their fridge with a bizarre amount of ferocity, in stark contrast with the way Angel was known to do things.
He had always known that she was very energetic, but even after years of living together, he didn't get the urgency with which she destroyed his culinary space. Was it so hard to silently search a refrigerator?
Faith reentered the living room with a fresh can of coke, slumping down on the ugly green couch with an equal amount of intensity. The landlord was likely to come scold them for being so loud when committing "hanky panky" any minute now.
Faith snapped the tab off of her can, sending it skittering across several inches of carpet.
"You're bleeding."
Faith shrugged, sticking the bloody digit into her mouth and sucking all the red away. She proudly displayed a now slobbery thumbs up when finished with this task.
"Yuck."
You think of yuckier every time you go to yoga class.
"That's irrelevant," Angel retorted, before realizing it had been Buffy speaking to him, and not his greasy-haired roommate.
Faith cocked her head at him.
Angel and Buffy had a sort of agreement that she not pester him when he was with Faith. He knew it made her jealous to see him live with someone that wasn't herself, though she would not dare to admit it. And beyond that, it was just plain dangerous. Angel liked to treat Buffy like the person that he saw her to be, which meant if possible, he would reply to her out loud, as opposed to sending a single thought her way. In a pinch, he could chat her up in silence, but on instinct, when she talked to him, he talked back.
It was just far too risky to expose Faith to the "hearing voices" side of Angel, they had both agreed to that much. But it was easy to forget, especially when the two of them were so infatuated with each other's company.
"What's irrelevant?"
Angel only shook his head, taking the coke from her blood-free hands and stealing a sip for himself. "Just something I thought of earlier."
Faith stared him down with those baby browns, expecting his face to give away what his mouth would not.
"You're acting strange today…Did something happen?"
"Nothing happened." And nothing ever does. "And what's got you in such a good mood? There's no boytoy to be found."
Faith scoffed. "I could say the same for you."
"I'm bisexual, not promiscuous."
"And what's the harm and being both?" Faith left him with this thought as she made her way to the bathroom, though he did not accept it as his own, like he would have if it were Buffy's suggestion. Angel had other things to prepare for, things far more vital than a cornucopia of lovers. Though he did not know it yet.