PART THREE

Buffy leaned against the wall outside the door to the aerobics studio listening to the muffled sounds of the music and waiting for Faith’s spinning class to end. After a sleepless night, she had crept out quietly just before dawn and made the drive over to the gym. She had her own class to teach at seven am, so she had to be there early anyway – might as well burn off some of her tension on the treadmill. It was a good theory, but even forty-five minutes of jogging hadn’t done much to quell the chaotic jumble of thoughts in her mind.

Since Angel had gone to bed by the time she had got out of the shower last night, they hadn’t talked any more about their little moment on the living room floor. She hadn’t really meant for that to happen… Well, maybe she meant it, but she hadn’t really expected it. She closed her eyes, calling up the delicious memory. There was no denying that she enjoyed his kisses, his lips on her body, his hands. But after Angel saying he wanted to take things slowly… had she been too … aggressive?

At the light touch on her elbow, Buffy gasped and opened her eyes. She was surprised to see the man from Patina standing in front of her.

“Hi there.” Lindsey said with a friendly smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Buffy blurted out suspiciously, though it was obvious from the sweat on his face and the snug grey t-shirt that he wore that he’d been working out. It was also apparent from the obvious muscles in his chest, shoulders and arms that he did so regularly. She hadn’t really noticed that the other day, his body hidden by the dark business attire that he wore.

“The Sunnydale Visitor’s Bureau says that this is one of the better gyms in town, so I joined.” He shrugged slightly, not taking offense at her blunt question. The door near them swung open as people slowly began to file out of the aerobics room now that the class was over.

Buffy’s eyebrows quirked upward somewhat skeptically and she gave a small nod, “Oh.”  Looking past him, she smiled and said hi to two people who exited the class, other members of the gym that she knew.

“About the other day, at the restaurant… I’m sorry. I know I came on a little strong.” Lindsey offered, sensing both her discomfort and disbelief at seeing him there. She was being polite but not encouraging, and he found himself even more intrigued by her. Of course, the tanned bare midriff between her black sweats and baby blue bra top admittedly added to his interest.

Returning her gaze to his face, Buffy studied him as if trying to ascertain if he was telling her the truth or not.

“I moved here about a month ago from Oklahoma and haven’t met too many people.” Lindsey explained as he gave a cursory glance at the people passing along the hallway. He stepped out of the way to stand along the wall next to Buffy and continued apologetically, “Between the move here and my work schedule, I haven’t gotten out much, so I’m a little stir crazy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Buffy responded courteously, her curiosity piqued slightly as she wondered what he did and where he was from. She would have guessed him to still be in college, as young as he seemed.

“Can we start over?” Lindsey asked, a flirtatious smile gracing his features. He wiped his hand thoroughly on the towel he was holding then extended it. “Hi. I’m Lindsey. Lindsey McDonald.”

“Buffy Summers,” she said as she shook his hand. With only a brief pause, she amended, “O’Connor. Buffy Summers O’Connor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy Summers O’Connor. I take it you’re still getting used to part of that name.” Lindsey replied, his green eyes reflecting his amusement. “You did say married, but I’m going to guess you’re a newlywed.”

“Yes. Well, three months.” Buffy replied with a smile, her thoughts drifting back to her husband and their shared kisses from last night. She still had to tell Angel that she was using his name, but she had to admit hearing it out loud with hers gave her a feeling of intimacy, of closeness with him that she liked.

“That’s still pretty new in my book.” He replied with a wink. Lindsey, with his keen observation skills, noted the dreamy expression on Buffy’s face and the heightened color in her cheeks at the mention of her marriage.  Changing topics, he asked, “So you work out here then?”

“Yeah. I teach. Kickboxing class.” Shaking away the musings of her husband, Buffy turned her attention back to Lindsey. “Which, starts in about 10 minutes…”

“I’m impressed.” Lindsey said, genuinely surprised, though he would have admitted that Buffy was obviously in great shape. “You any good?”

Buffy shrugged modestly, “Maybe.” The mischievous grin on her face contrasted to her words and once more Lindsey found himself increasingly interested in the petite blonde.

“So then the Sunnydale Visitor’s Bureau is right about this being the best gym?  I’ve been using their damn guides to find just about everything in town that I need.”

“Well, this is one of the nicer gyms in town.” Buffy answered thoughtfully as she turned to walk to the door of the aerobics room. Lindsey fell in step behind her.

“And Murdock’s? Best grocery?”

“No… Lynardi’s is better. Less expensive too.”

“Ah. Thanks for the tip. They were right about Patina though. The food was great, the service impeccable.”  Lindsey smiled and held open the door before following her into the room. “You lived here long then?”

“Yep. All my life actually.” Buffy replied, waving at the three people who were talking near the small podium at one end of the room. Behind them, a few people entered and were taking a spot on the floor in preparation for class.

“Really?”

“Yep, really.”

The dark-haired girl in the tight black bike shorts and snug sleeveless white top smiled and walked over to meet them, while the two people who she had been talking to waved at Buffy as they left the room.  “Hey, B. I didn’t see you in class…”

“Hi Faith.” Buffy answered, giving the other girl a hug in greeting. “You know I’m too lazy for your class. Besides, I needed some quality time with the treadmill this morning to atone for too many Joseph Schmidt’s.”

Faith rolled her eyes and snorted dubiously. She turned her attention to the man still standing slightly behind Buffy and to the right. “Hey, so, this your boy?  It’s about time she dragged your sorry ass down here with her, I’ve been wanting to meet you for what, like, three, four months now. The guy that just sweeps B here off her feet and rushes her to the altar has to be something else.”  Grinning, Faith held out her hand. “I know she always said virgin until she found the right guy, but she never said she was holding out for marriage too. Hope you were worth waiting for. I’ve been asking for details, but B here hasn’t said anything more than really good kisser. Oh, yeah, I’m Faith.”

“Uh, Faith…” Buffy cringed at the intimate disclosures her long time friend just blurted out to a perfect stranger.  

“I’m Lindsey.” Smiling at the beautiful brunette, Lindsey returned Faith’s greeting.

“Oh, I thought your name was Angel? Or is that just some sort of cute lovey-dovey nickname?  It works, I guess, but I’d go with something more like ‘studmuffin’ but then, hey that’s just me.” Faith grinned and winked, “I’m sure you don’t mind what B calls you, particularly in the sack.”

“Faith, this isn’t Angel,” Buffy said flatly, “and Angel’s name is… Angel.” While that wasn’t strictly true in the formal sense, it was what everyone called him.

“Ah. No?” Unabashed, Faith looked from Lindsey to Buffy curiously.

“No. This is Lindsey McDonald.” Buffy explained with emphasis on his name. “He just moved here from Oklahoma.”

“Well, welcome to Sunnydale, cowboy.” Faith said with a shrug, “Hope you can stand all the excitement we have to offer.”

“I think I’m up for it.” Lindsey replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I imagine you are.”  Faith teased with a wink. “Hey, I gotta run. See you later, okay, B? We need to catch up.” Turning, Faith gathered her things and began to walk toward the door. Halfway there she turned and walked backward, calling out, “And hey, I still need to meet your Angel.”

Buffy waved at Faith before she glanced back at Lindsey and gestured to the increasingly crowded room, “I’ve got to go. Class to teach.”

Lindsey nodded, but hesitated as if debating something mentally before he spoke, “Buffy - I know you’re married, but… do you think you might have some time in the next couple of days to show me around town a little?  I could really use some pointers from one of the natives…”

“I don’t really think...”

“Think of it as a community service.” Lindsey interrupted before she could finish. He was nothing if not persistent; it was one of the many reasons he was considered to be one of the best private investigators in the business.

When Buffy didn’t answer immediately, Lindsey continued, “If you’d still like to introduce me to your friend – the one that you said might be interested in that dinner and a movie offer?  I’ll take you up on that.”  Tilting his head in the direction of the door where Faith had disappeared, he added with a playful smile, “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Faith, would it?”

Buffy shook her head and laughed. She had never met a man who wasn’t interested in Faith, but Faith… she talked a big game, but in reality she wasn’t nearly as promiscuous or outgoing as she appeared. She would probably be interested in someone like Lindsey, however Buffy had someone else in mind that she wanted Faith to meet.

“You remember Anya, the hostess at Patina?” Buffy said as she put her class soundtrack in the CD player.

“I think so.” Lindsey answered slowly, as if searching his memory.

“That’d be the one.”

“Ah, okay, thanks. I’ll make a stop by there as soon as I get a chance and see if she might still be interested. So… what do you think? Do you have some time to help out a new friend? Or, if not a friend… how about helping out a lost stranger?”  Lindsey pleaded softly, his expression schoolboy innocent. “What’d you say?”

Buffy studied his face for a few minutes before she finally gave him an answer.

* * *

The knock sounded on the door just after Wesley had gotten out of the shower. He finished dressing quickly, pulling on a pair of faded jeans and a dark green button up shirt. He glanced at the clock – it was just after eight am – as he made his way to the door. When he pulled open the door, he knew he’d seen the woman standing there before, but he couldn’t quite place where at first glance.

“Wesley Wyndham-Pryce?” 

“Yes?”

“Dr. Maggie Walsh, Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services.” Dr. Walsh announced brusquely as she extended her hand. “I apologize for the early hour, but I do need a few minutes of your time.” 

“Would you like to come in?” Wesley offered, stepping back from the door. He remembered her now; she had been the woman at Angel’s apartment who had wanted to meet his wife. They had even joked about it at the time, only to find out that Angel was, in fact, truly married.

“Thank you.” Stepping past him, Maggie entered the apartment. As she made her way to the sofa, she noted the shelves filled to overflowing with an assortment of books, a good many of them medical texts.  

“Please have a seat.” Wesley took the chair next to the couch as Dr. Walsh seated herself on the sofa then opened her black notebook.

“I understand that you are friends with Liam O’Connor and Buffy Summers?” Dr. Walsh asked as she took out her reading glasses and slipped them on.

“Yes.” Wes answered easily. Angel had mentioned that the BCIS was checking out his marriage and that he had used Wesley as a reference, so the woman’s visit wasn’t completely unexpected.

“I am following up on the paperwork that they submitted to the BCIS in order to obtain Mr. O’Connor’s green card. The questions that I have are routine, but if you object to answering any of them at any time, please feel free to say so, and I shall simply make a note of it and move on.” Maggie Walsh informed him without pause, glancing through her notebook absently as she flipped through several pages. Reaching the point in the notebook she had been seeking, she glanced back at Wesley’s face. “I presume that they told you that you were listed as a reference on their behalf?”

“Yes.” Wesley said with a nod.

“How would you describe your relationship to either of them?” The BCIS agent asked as she took out her pen and jotted the date in her notebook along with Wesley’s name and another note.

“Angel and I met last summer when he moved to Sunnydale. I usually see him at least once a week. We had a couple of classes together, and we play on the same club soccer team. Buffy, I met only a few months ago, but I think we have a good rapport.”

“How close would you say your relationship is to Mr. O’Connor?” Dr. Walsh inquired, looking over the rim of her glasses.

“Pretty close, I would say.” Wes reclined back in the chair, casually crossing one leg over the other. He, Doyle, Gunn and Angel had formed an easy friendship based on shared interests, mutual respect, and no small number of beers.

“Does Mr. O’Connor confide things of a personal nature to you?”

“Some things, I would say, yes.” Wesley replied thoughtfully, recalling several conversations he had had with Angel recently, including one about Buffy.

“Tell me how Mr. O’Connor and Ms. Summers met.” Flipping back a few pages in her notebook, Maggie Walsh stopped on the page where she had made a few notes and scanned them. She then flipped back to the page she was currently writing on and returned her gaze to Wesley’s face.

“I believe they met through a mutual friend, Cordelia Chase.” Wes said, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning them at the wrists.

“But you’re not sure.” Dr. Walsh asserted, watching Wesley’s reaction with a critical eye.

“Other than a passing mention, we never really discussed particular details about how they met, quite frankly.” The young pre-med student affirmed with a dismissive shrug.

“Did you attend the wedding?” The BCIS agent asked, glancing at a small post-note on which she had written several questions or comments.

“No.”

“He confides in you, you’re close friends - according to your own words – and yet he didn’t invite you to his wedding?” Dr. Walsh’s tone was obviously skeptical, her slight smile predatory.

“My schedule at the end of the semester was rather intense. I begin my medical residency next year and had a rather large number of things to wrap up in May.” Wes smiled slightly himself, his expression cool. “And, from what I understand, they wanted a simple, intimate wedding. Angel is rather protective of his bride, you see.”

“Protective? In what sense?” Maggie Walsh questioned with interest. She straightened her spine, hoping she might have just stumbled onto something useful for her case.

Wesley’s lips quirked into a smile, “I think Angel is a little obsessed with his wife and doesn’t exactly want to share her right now with anyone, much less other men. You might call it jealousy; though I don’t think Angel’s even aware he’s doing it.”

“I see.” Maggie Walsh replied with a small measure of disbelief and considerable annoyance that ‘protective’ didn’t seem like it was going to evolve into something more helpful to her case.  “When did Mr. O’Connor tell you about his wedding?”

“Sometime in May, I believe.” Wes said thoughtfully, as if trying to recall the date. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly when. Like I said, that was a very busy time for me.” It was true enough, he didn’t remember the exact date but he did remember the exact conversation in the kitchen, only a short while after Dr. Maggie Walsh had disappeared down the stairs.

“Was it before or after the wedding?” The BCIS agent asked, her brow furrowed in a frown.

“Hm. Good question. I’m going to say I think it was before…” Wesley answered, watching Dr. Walsh speculatively. He knew why the BCIS was investigating Angel’s marriage to Buffy; but he was also loyal to his friends. He saw no harm in a few white lies to help them out, particularly since Dr. Walsh seemed so intent on proving that their marriage was a scam. He might have felt differently if he hadn’t been so convinced that Buffy and Angel were in love with each other. It wasn’t anything that either of them said directly to him, but rather a conclusion he had come too after talking to them both separately over the past weeks.

“Did you know that Mr. O’Connor was having problems with his visa paperwork?” Dr. Walsh questioned, tapping her pen absently on her paper.

“Yes, though not the specific details.” Wes said calmly, glancing briefly at this watch.

“And yet, you said he confides in you regarding personal matters?” Maggie Walsh inquired archly, making it clear by both her tone and expression that she questioned Wes’ earlier assertion that he and Angel were close friends.

“He confides in me on some matters, Dr. Walsh, as I do him. I don’t pry into others.” Wes stated calmly, unaffected by Dr. Walsh’s implication. “And I don’t believe in violating confidences, though I will answer whatever questions you have.”  

“Were you surprised that he married?” Dr. Walsh asked, growing increasingly disgruntled that the interview wasn’t going as she had hoped.

“Yes, initially, though after I met Buffy, I revised my opinion.” Wes replied honestly, taking his glasses off to clean them.

“Why is that?” Maggie Walsh asked as she scrutinized Wesley’s every movement.

“Buffy is beautiful, smart, kind…” Wes said with a smile, “honestly, it’s not hard to see why a man would be attracted to her.”

“Those ‘qualities’ that you mention, are hardly unique. Mr. O’Connor’s reputation would have me believe that he has never lacked for female companionship, so I have no doubt that other women in his past have met that same criteria, yet this is the first one that he married.”

“I suppose so, but Buffy is… she’s unique. I’ve never seen Angel have the same level of interest or concern for any other woman. I’d have to say all of the signs point to the fact that he’s in love with her and that’s why he got married.”

Maggie Walsh pressed her lips together in displeasure. “In love or simply happy to be staying in the United States?”

“If you’re implying that they married purely for Angel’s green card, I think you’ll find that you are mistaken.” Wes replied coolly, his defense of his friends unconditional. He hadn’t asked Angel directly if that was why he married Buffy, but after seeing them together he found it hard to believe that that would be the only reason.

“A sudden marriage to a woman he’s known only a few weeks, if that, just when problems with his paperwork put him at risk of deportation appear suspect. The timing is coincidental, as are the circumstances of his marriage. I’m sure you understand how this looks to my office.”

“Perhaps, but then, in my experience things aren’t always as they appear.” Wes acknowledged politely as he rose to his feet. “Do you have any other questions? I have to be at the hospital in about an hour.”

Closing her notebook, Maggie Walsh also stood. “I’ll be back if I do have any additional questions. Thank you for your time.”  With a brisk nod, she strode toward the door and let herself out.

* * *

Buffy sighed when she saw the group enter the restaurant. She hadn’t seen Parker Abrams and his pals for at least two months, so she’d been hopeful that maybe they weren’t coming back or had lost interest in their game of taunting her. That, she surmised, was wishful thinking. Apparently the fraternity had simply dispersed for the summer. Now that the fall semester planning was going on at UC Sunnydale and classes would be starting in a few weeks, no doubt they would all be returning.

Catching her eye, Parker winked and gave Buffy a lewd gesture. His buddies, watching him, snickered and laughed.

Giving them a cold look, Buffy turned her attention back to her work. At least her section was full now so there was no chance that either Snyder or Anya could seat the six guys in her section.

Twenty minutes later she grimaced and closed her eyes to quell her anger as Snyder led the guys to a table in her section; they had been waiting in the bar until a table opened up.

Stiffening her spine and gritting her teeth, Buffy took a deep breath as she walked toward the table of loud and obnoxious frat boys. She could practically feel Snyder’s eyes boring a hole in her back; the little troll no doubt wanted to see her screw up.  It had been weeks since he had chastised her about anything; he probably felt like he was overdue.

At the first ‘accidental’ grope of her behind, Buffy sighed and looked at her watch. She still had almost three hours left on her shift. It was going to be a long night…

* * *

Although Buffy had said that she would show Lindsey around Sunnydale, she called him Sunday morning and backed out, pleading illness. But when he showed up at her door a short while later, a boyish grin on his face, several cans of chicken noodle soup and small bouquet of daisies, she relented.  

She left a note for Angel, simply saying that she was showing Lindsey around Sunnydale and would be back later.  She hadn’t seen Angel at all on Friday, having left early and then worked late in addition to stopping off to visit with Willow and Oz for awhile after work. After putting up with Parker and his friends for almost the entire rest of her shift, she had needed to vent some of her frustration, anger and hurt to her friends. On Saturday, he had left early in the morning before she even got up, leaving her note that said he was going with Doyle down to LA for the day and would be back late, which turned out to be long after she had gone to sleep. This morning, she and Angel saw each other only for a few minutes in passing before Angel left to help Gunn move some furniture into Fred’s apartment before going on to the guy’s soccer game. He had seemed a little distant or distracted, and Buffy wondered again if he had changed his mind about the two of them.

Forcing herself to smile, Buffy directed and Lindsey drove around the various Sunnydale locations and over the course of their drive, he cheered her with his sense of humor, distracted her with amusing anecdotes, offered subtle compliments that made her feel appreciated as a woman and, he shared confidences about his life that made her feel valued as a friend.  Given her increasing depression about Angel’s apparent withdrawal from her, she was particularly vulnerable to Lindsey’s captivating charm.

Against her protestations, he bought her dinner – in appreciation for her spending the day with him, he said. Buffy felt a little uncomfortable in the romantic French bistro with Lindsey, but he continued his same cheerful banter as if he didn’t notice. As he talked, she eventually relaxed, reminding herself that Lindsey knew she was married and couldn’t possibly be entertaining thoughts about the two of them despite his choice of venues.

“Buffy, can I ask you a personal question?”  He asked several hours later as they stopped outside the apartment, Lindsey easing the Mercedes expertly into a parking spot along the curb.

“Sure, I guess.” Buffy replied, looking up at the apartment windows. The lights were on and the window was open, which meant that Angel was home.

“Are you happy? In your marriage, I mean.” Lindsey asked, leaning over look at her. His green eyes were darker in the fading evening sunlight as he gazed directly in her eyes.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” She finally answered, her earlier feelings of discomfort returning. What could she say about her relationship?  She didn’t know where things stood right now, though she was hopeful that Angel was still interested in pursuing some sort of relationship with her. And despite spending the day with Lindsey and being taken in by his subtle charm, she didn’t really know him. Not enough to confide in him at any rate.

“You don’t seem like a cherished new bride.” Lindsey declared adamantly. He reached up to brush her hair away from her cheek, but though better of it when she pulled away. He dropped his hand back to the steering wheel. “Let’s just say, if you were my wife and we’d only been married a few months – hell, years even - you’d never be out of my sight – or my bed, much less spending the afternoon with another man.”

Buffy flushed slightly, uncomfortable with the presumptuous statement as well as Lindsey’s interest. She thought they had put that aside and could be just friends. Obviously, she had been wrong. Reaching for the door knob, she snapped angrily, “Lindsey, look, just because I showed you around today doesn’t mean that there’s a problem with my marriage, nor does it mean that I’m interested in a relationship with you outside of friendship. If you believe otherwise, then you’re sadly mistaken, and I have no interest in even being your friend.”

“Buffy, wait, I’m sorry.” Lindsey pleaded apologetically as Buffy opened the car door and began to get out. Grabbing her hand, he stopped her. “I was out of line. Way out of line. I seem to do that a lot with you. Listen, if you ever want to talk, or need a shoulder to lean on… I hope you know that you can call me. As a friend only, I promise.”

Buffy didn’t say anything, only stared back at Lindsey in consideration. After another few seconds, she simply climbed out of the car. She paused briefly before closing the door and quietly said, “Goodbye, Lindsey.”

Lindsey waited until she disappeared up the stairs before he drove away.

When Buffy opened the door, Angel was lounging on the couch reading as he did so often. He was wearing black sweats and a white t-shirt, and looked as if he had showered not all that long ago. She sighed wistfully, stopping to look at him. Just the sight of him strangely seemed to soothe her agitated nerves.

Angel looked up as Buffy closed the door behind her. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Buffy replied softly, dragging her gaze away from her husband. Turning, she hung her purse on one of the hooks near the door.

“Did you have a good time?” Angel asked, rolling to a seated position and setting aside his book.

“Yes, it was fine.” She answered, soothing the green floral material of her sundress.

“Good.” Angel replied, only half hearing her. He was preoccupied with the conversation he had been having in his thoughts for most of the afternoon. He had been working out exactly what he wanted to say to Buffy, but now that she was here, standing in front of him and looking absolutely delectable in the green silky material, he seemed to have completely lost his train of thought. Forcing his eyes back to her face, he asked, “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Buffy sat down on the couch opposite of Angel. Her stomach fluttered nervously.

“Buffy… about the other night…” Angel began earnestly, sitting forward.

“Yes?” Turning slightly sideways, she crossed her feet at the ankles.

“I don’t want you to think that just because we are married and just because… well, because I said I was interested in seeing where things between us go that you have to… that you have to have sex with me.”

Buffy gaze held his for a moment before she answered, “I don’t.”

“Good.” Angel felt the tension in his body ease slightly, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Good?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t want to sleep with her? Did that mean he had changed his mind about them?

“Good that you think that.” Angel said, his gaze roving along the slim line of Buffy’s calf to her dainty feet, encased in a pair of beige sandals with thin crisscrossing straps. Her toenails were painted a shiny pale-pink which seemed brighter against her tan skin, and Angel felt a strong urge to drop to his knees and kiss her feet.

“Oh.” Buffy’s face fell in disappointment.

Angel returned his gaze to Buffy’s face upon hearing the small sound and knew immediately that she hadn’t understood his answer the way he had meant it.  He smiled ruefully, “I always seem to fuck this up, don’t I?”

“I don’t know. What are you trying to say?” Shrugging slightly, she waited for him to speak. She didn’t want to guess and be wrong, and she was tired of playing games after spending the day with Lindsey and worrying about her intentions being misconstrued. Mentally, she braced herself for his clarification.

“I said I wanted to see where things went with us, but I didn’t want to rush you or push you, and the first thing I did was just that.” He said apologetically.

“You didn’t. I mean, I didn’t think you did.” She looked down at her hands, toying absently with the ring on her finger.

“You didn’t?”

After a few seconds, Buffy returned her gaze to his face. “No. I thought maybe I was the one who… did.  You know, I thought you thought I was too… pushy or something. You said you wanted to take things slow, and then well, I sort of just…” She paused, blushing lightly, “Well, you know what happened. I thought maybe you changed your mind after that and were avoiding me.”

“No, Buffy, no.” Angel objected firmly as he moved to sit next to her on the couch. He took one of her hands in his. With the other he lightly traced her jaw, tilting her head to look up at him. Unhurriedly, he studied her features. “I haven’t changed my mind at all.”

“You haven’t?” Hugely relieved, she fought to hide her feelings by schooling her features into a passive smile. Still, her happiness was clearly evident by the sparkle in her eyes. She could feel his thigh pressing against hers, and she fought the desire to press closer.

“No, I haven’t.” His voice was low, husky as he answered. Resisting the urge to kiss her, he sat back slightly and dropped his hand from her face. “I haven’t been avoiding you, but I didn’t want you to think I was the one being pushy.”  

“Oh.” Buffy breathed, her eyes searching his face. Instinctively, she leaned closer.

“Now, I have something for you.” Releasing her hand, Angel stood and crossed the room. He had to put some distance between them, or he’d give lie to his words about being pushy. He returned carrying a shopping bag that she hadn’t even noticed that had been sitting on the table.

“What is this?” Buffy asked with a smile as Angel set it in her lap. He sat next to her again, careful to leave some room between them this time.

“A few things I picked up for you in Ireland. I haven’t had a chance to give them to you.” He smiled as Buffy drew the Aran-knit sweater out of the bag.

“Oh, Angel. It’s beautiful.” She held it to her chest, looking down at the ivory cable knit pattern.

Angel nodded in agreement, though he was thinking more of his wife than of the object in her hands. “There’s more.” He urged after a minute, when she seemed content to examine the texture of the sweater.

Still smiling, Buffy laid the sweater carefully on the edge of the couch then reached in the bag and pulled out the vase wrapped in layers of tissue.  “Oh…” She gasped as she stripped away the paper before holding the crystal up carefully to examine the simple yet elegant design. She rolled it gently in her hands, looking at every edge and facet.

“That pattern is supposed to be one of the better ones. It’s called Lismore, I think.” Angel said, trying to remember what the woman in the shop had told him about the vase.

“It’s really beautiful. And you shouldn’t have.” Buffy admonished, carefully setting the footed vase on the table in front of her.

“I can buy gifts for my wife if I want.” Angel replied with a smile, “And there are a couple of other things in the bag.”

She felt a sudden rush of warmth at his words and returned his smile. “Nothing too expensive I hope.” Buffy peeked into the bag, letting out a little squeak when she found the two remaining packages. Tearing the gold paper from the larger package, she exclaimed happily, “Ooh, chocolates! Yum!”

She opened the box and examined them carefully before choosing one to pop into her mouth.  Closing her eyes, Buffy practically purred, savoring the rich treat.

Angel simply watched her, his dark eyes heated and covetous. He swore that the temperature in the room rose by at least five degrees in those few seconds, just watching her beautiful face as she enjoyed the decadent chocolate.

Buffy opened her eyes and gave him a sheepish smile, holding out the box to offer him one of the chocolates. “Sorry. Would you like one? They’re very good.”

Angel shook his head to decline, and Buffy put the lid on the box and set them next to the vase on the coffee table.

She picked up the last item, a small bag obviously from a jewelry store. “Now, I know you shouldn’t have done this.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet. How do you know that it’s not just a box?” Angel teased, unaware that he had shifted closer to her on the sofa. Buffy was turned toward him, her knee nudging his thigh. His arm was draped over the back of the couch almost around her. “Or maybe a hideous leprechaun charm.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Buffy slowly withdrew the velvet box from the bag. She opened it to reveal a simple but elegant and beautiful silver cross. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. But you really shouldn’t have gotten me all of these things. One was more than enough, but all four is… much too much.”

“Not at all. I just hope you like them.” Angel replied softly. Buffy’s hair brushed the bare skin on his arm as she moved it aside to put the cross necklace on and he felt as if every last ounce of his awareness was focused on her.

“I love it. All of it. Thank you.”  Buffy looked up at him and smiled. Spontaneously, she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips.

Angel sat perfectly still when her lips touched his, almost afraid to move. Buffy’s hand settled on his nape as her lips moved against his for several long moments. Pulling back slowly, she shivered. Clearing her throat slightly, she eased back further and looked away from him. Without even trying, he captured her so easily, so completely. It was no wonder that she seemed to lose her senses when he was around. No one else had ever affected her so strongly.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Angel murmured softly, toying with a strand of her hair. “You said yes before I left for Ireland…”

“Yes. I’d like that. Dinner that is.” Buffy replied, clasping her hands together in her lap before giving in and burying her fingers in his hair. She amended, “Oh. I’m not off this week until Saturday, but then we have that party thing. You know our first big appearance as a couple.”

“Damn.”  Angel forgot that they had already agreed to go. He’d also suppressed the fact that Cordelia was stopping by because she had insisted that she wanted to talk to him. He had only agreed to see her because he had to keep on good terms with her for the BCIS. It was highly likely that Maggie Walsh would be talking to her since her name was on their marriage license, so he didn’t want to risk her blurting out the truth in a fit of temper.

“Sorry. I’m off Monday though…” Buffy ventured softly, her eyes meeting his once again.

“Don’t be. Saturday we’ll go out and have fun with our friends, and Monday it’ll be dinner, just the two of us.”

They talked for a few more minutes to firm up their plans and then spent the next two hours catching up on the events of the last few days as well as talking about dozens of other topics of interest.  It was almost 11:00 when Buffy excused herself to take a shower and go to bed.

That night, they both wished for the weekend to come swiftly.

* * *

“You can ride with Xander.” Cordelia tossed out rudely as she pushed Buffy aside and slid into the black Plymouth GTX next to Angel. “I need to talk with Angel privately.”

“Fine.” Buffy murmured under her breath as she watched them pull away from the curb after what appeared to be a few minutes of avid discussion. Still, she fought an urge to hurl a rock after them.

A hand touched her elbow and she looked up into the smirking brown eyes of the man next to her.

“Ready?” He pointed to the black corvette parked haphazardly along the curb.

Instantly, Buffy didn’t trust him. He reminded her of Parker, leering and arrogant. Reluctantly she nodded and followed him to the car.

“Do you know many people at this party?” She asked as they sped through the streets of Sunnydale. When she and Angel had talked about attending this party earlier, it seemed like a good idea, in theory. Harmony’s Labor Day party was known as one of the biggest bashes of the summer; a final blowout before everyone shifted into fall and prepared to go back to school. They’d appear together as a couple in front of their friends, many of who had yet to be interviewed by Dr. Walsh, and show everyone that they were a real couple. At the moment, however, with the man next to her practically drooling on her shoulder and Angel somewhere on the road ahead of them with Cordelia, none of it seemed like a very good idea.

“Pretty much all of them.” Xander replied with a sidelong glance that made Buffy increasingly uncomfortable.

They traveled for almost thirty minutes before they finally reached the gated entrance of the Kendall’s mansion.

Angel’s GTX was parked in the center of the driveway, the valet standing near the open door.

Angel himself stood near the front door of the mansion, his expression shuttered. He eyed Xander suspiciously as the young man slipped past them with a smirk and into marble foyer.

“Everything okay?” Buffy asked, noting Angel’s dark expression. He had warned her that Cordelia had demanded to speak to him, so the brunette’s appearance hadn’t come as a surprise.

“Yes.” Angel answered with a nod.  Placing his hand at the small of her back, he escorted Buffy into the house. They parted ways at the back patio, each heading to the respective areas of the pool house to change into their swimsuits.

Buffy stopped just at the edge of the elaborate marble terrace and nervously surveyed the crowd around the pool. Dangling her feet in the water, Cordelia sat on the edge of the pool. She was wearing a red bikini that was stunning on her. Harmony and Xander sat next to her, the three of them talking to two guys who were standing in the waist deep water. Angel stood on the opposite side of the pool, looking absolutely scrumptious in a pair of black board shorts and no shirt. He still looked moody, though his eyes were hidden behind the silver rimmed sunglasses he often wore.

She wondered again what he and Cordelia had talked about in the car on the way over. Maybe he would tell her later…

Angel stared with narrowed eyes in Cordelia’s direction, hearing her laughter ring out. He was annoyed by what she had said in the car on the way over and was trying to decide how much credibility to give to her statements.

As Buffy slowly made her way across the marble terrace, first one pair of male eyes then another followed her. Her black halter-style bikini was modest compared to many of the others, as was the black sheer pareau wrapped around her hips, but the style and color enhanced her natural beauty.

“If you keep staring at Cordelia like that, everyone is going to pity me for my husband with the wandering eye.” Buffy hissed up at him, not understanding Angel’s expression but growing irritated by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed she was standing next to him. “Hardly the impression I think you want to give your friends.”  Admittedly, she was a little short-tempered after the drive over.

Angel looked down at her, one eyebrow lifting as he took in the décolletage visible by her low-cut top. “And what impression are you hoping to give them?” His aggravation at Cordelia colored his tone, making his words come out snappish.

Buffy willed herself not to blush. “There are smaller suits than this here. Cordelia’s for one.” She glanced down at the low halter-top, adjusting it just slightly. She was supremely conscious that his eyes followed her every move. “Besides, I like the style.”

“And every guy here likes it as well. A little too much.” He growled at her, unreasonably uncomfortable. “Didn’t you have something bigger?”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Are you suggesting that my suit too small?  Or that I should have worn something else?”

He stared down the guy currently eyeing her before he returned his eyes to her face and answered. “Both. It might have been a good idea to wear something less revealing. You don’t need to…” his gaze drifted down again, taking in the curve of her breasts, the tanned and firm flesh of her stomach above the black pareau and her hip teasingly revealed by the open side below the short skirt tie, “to try to attract additional attention.”

“Oh.” There was nothing in her tone to suggest that she was upset or offended, rather it was the flash of anger in her eye and the slight lift of her chin.

“I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine.” Buffy interrupted, taking her sunglasses off her head and slipping them on, effectively hiding her eyes. “I understand what you’re saying. You think I wore this because I wanted to attract attention.” She smiled, but it didn’t match the tone of her voice. “Unlike Cordelia in the bright red, thong back bikini, who, no doubt, wore hers for style and comfort.”

“Buffy.” Angel reached for her hand, but she swung out of reach and walked away.

“I need to circulate if I’m going to attract any attention.”

He caught up with her in two strides. “Buffy – I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

They had reached the edge of the marble terrace; she stopped and scanned the crowd. She glanced up at him dismissively. “I think I’ll go over there with Wes and Gunn. At least find someone to talk to who won’t just criticize what I’m wearing.”

The words reached him too late and Buffy had already moved off into the crowd. By the time that he reached her, she was chatting with Wes, Gunn and Fred animatedly and effectively ignoring him. Jaw clenched, arms folded over his chest, he leaned against the wall next to them and half listened to the conversation. He warned off one man with his eyes. The emotions gripping him were unfamiliar – desire he recognized, but the other… he felt over reactive, his temper on edge.

Buffy knew that Angel was watching her though she avoided looking in his direction.  Instead, she talked to several other people who joined the group, everyone laughing and having a good time.

“Buffy? Buffy! It is you.” The voice came from somewhere behind the group as the man pushed his way through the crowd to join them.

“I didn’t think you knew anyone in Sunnydale.” Recognizing Lindsey, Buffy replied. Her tone was almost accusatory as she eyed him warily.

“I’ve met a few people, hoping to get to know a few more.” Pausing, he pointed behind him in the direction of a petite blonde talking to Harmony, “I met Kate on Thursday, and she invited me along, being a friend of Harmony’s.”  Returning his gaze to Buffy he smiled warmly, “It’s nice to see you.” His eyes drifted lower, obviously checking out her figure in the black bikini.

Angel pushed away from the wall, coming to stand almost between Buffy and Lindsey, blocking Buffy slightly from Lindsey's view. He held out his hand, “Angel O’Connor. Buffy’s husband. And you are?”

“Lindsey. Lindsey McDonald.” Lindsey shook the offered hand. The small group surrounding them grew quiet, glancing from one man to the other at the noticeable tension.

“Lindsey?” Angel looked accusingly at Buffy as his large hand closed over her smaller one tightly, “It’s nice to meet you, Lindsey. Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to dance with my wife.” Suddenly, all he could think was that he didn’t want Buffy anywhere near the guy who was not even attempting to hide his interest in her. He tugged Buffy along behind him until they reached the covered patio where several other couples were dancing to the smooth R&B beat.

“What was that all about?” Buffy questioned with a touch of anger as Angel pulled her stiff form into his arms.

“That was Lindsey?” Angel returned in a barely suppressed growl.

“Yes.” The word was clipped, her eyes blazing.

“The Lindsey you went out with the other day?”

“Yes.” Buffy answered, unrepentantly. She had done nothing wrong and refused to be intimidated by Angel’s obvious anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me Lindsey was a he?” Angel snapped in a hushed whisper. Noticing the couple dancing near them looking over curiously, he guiding Buffy to the back corner of the patio where it was less crowded.

“You didn't ask and I didn’t think to mention it specifically. Why does it matter?” She retorted heatedly. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she was unsure whether it was from anger or from the close proximity to her husband.

“I thought you were out with another woman. Lindsey sounds like a girl’s name.” He gazed down at her with cool regard.

She arched an eyebrow at him, “So says a man who goes by the name of Angel.”

“Touché. But it still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.” Angel muttered peevishly, his hand slipping from her waist to splay across the bare skin of her lower back.

“You need to approve my friends?” Buffy questioned archly, refusing to explain that they hadn’t seen each other much the weekend that it happened and that she had simply forgotten about it in the days that had passed since.

“No. I just… I should know when you’re going out with other guys.” Angel replied. His eyes narrowed and he looked down at her accusingly, “Unless you’re hiding something.”

“I can have guy friends, you know, and be just friends with them.” Buffy snapped hotly. “Maybe that’s news to you. Maybe you don’t have any women friends that you’re just friends with.”

“I know, I know. You’re right.” Angel admitted grudgingly. He knew she was right, he just didn’t like it. “I just...”

“I’m right?  You don’t have any women that you’re just friends with?” Buffy inquired coldly, her eyebrows lifting. “And before you use the excuse of what the woman from the BCIS would say, think about your little adventure in Ireland with Cordelia or even your drive over here with her.” She continued angrily, trying unsuccessfully to jerk her hand out of his grasp. “Besides, it’s not like Lindsey and I are, or were, ever involved. The only guy I’m involved with right now is you.”

Her words soothed his temper almost instantly, taking the steam right out of his argument. His thighs brushed hers as he shifted her closer. “No, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”  He murmured on a deep exhalation of air. He added grudgingly, “I don’t have to like it though, do it?”

“You confuse me.” She answered honestly, her own anger dissipating. Instead she felt a provocative warmth deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Good. Then for once I’m not alone.” Angel said, leaning back slightly to look down at her. Other couples danced by them, but they paid them no mind solely focused on each other.

Buffy studied his face.

“Look, I’m sorry for my behavior, and I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”  He said softly, his gaze drifting over her, drinking her in. “You look beautiful.”

“Really? Beautiful?” She wasn’t sure whether to stay mad at him or not. His words of apology had gone a long way to assuaging her own hurt and anger.

“Beautiful.” Angel tugged her closer, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. Holding a scantily clad Buffy in his arms was doing dangerous things to his libido. He was only a scant thought away from finding them a private room and giving in to his repressed desires. “And I don’t want to fight with you.”

Buffy felt his warm breath on her ear. Still, she held her body stiffly, feeling every inch of his hard thighs against her legs, the chiseled expanse of his chest against her breasts. The memory of his lips against the hard peak of her nipple drifted through her mind and against her will, she felt the tips swelling, hardening.

“Me either.”  She breathed softly, relaxing into him and letting him guide her against him to the seductive beat of the music. Their bare skin touching made her wish they were alone. She slid her hands along his back, encircling his waist as she laid her cheek against his chest. She had the urge to let her hands wander over his body. And, she thought wickedly, she wanted his to do the same.

Instead, she contented herself by being held in his arms, surrounded by his scent and warmth. She closed her eyes, letting him guide her to the slow tempo of the music. Much too soon, the music stopped.  As the dance floor slowly emptied, the band choosing that moment to take a break, Buffy and Angel broke apart. The tension between them was palpable.

* * *

Buffy dabbed cool water on her face. Just dancing with Angel, feeling his body against hers was enough to raise her temperature and make her forget her resolve to take things slowly. She’d never had to worry about her own urges before, but lately she was beginning to feel as if they were becoming uncontrollable.

Her cheeks were flushed becomingly so she skipped any addition makeup, choosing to simply brush a shiny pink gloss across her lips. It was then that she noticed Cordelia standing behind her.

“Buffy.”

“Cordelia.” Buffy replied as she met the brunette’s eyes in the mirror. She moved aside as Cordelia sidled up next to her and leaned toward the mirror to check her makeup.

Buffy had just started to leave when Cordelia spoke again. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how grateful Angel and I are that you did this little favor for us. We were just talking about what a sweet girl you are in the car on the way over here.”

“Oh?” Almost against her will, Buffy stopped to listen. She didn’t like or trust Cordelia, but for reasons she didn’t understand, she had to hear what the brunette had to say.

“It’s true. I don’t know how many people would be as giving as you are, you know, doing so much for a woman you barely know and her boyfriend. It’s just so sweet.” The wealthy brunette continued in a sugary patronizing tone.

“That’s me… giving.” The petite blonde answered in a stilted voice.

“And I appreciate how understanding you are about giving Angel and me our alone time. It’s so hard now, not being able to be together openly because of the BCIS.” Cordelia’s eyes met Buffy’s in the mirror. “But Angel said he’d work something out with you. You know, for the next few months.”

“I see.” Buffy replied sharply. He wasn’t really planning on seeing Cordelia still, was he? Though, just because they had talked about seeing each other, it wasn’t like they had talked about it being exclusive…

“At least in Ireland we didn’t have to hide.” The brunette continued as she brushed her cheeks with a rose blush, “It was so nice. And his uncle and aunt were so understanding and sweet. I was a little embarrassed about all the noise – you know, you can practically hear through the walls in their quaint little cottage, but they were so great. They just said how young love was so beautiful.”

“Oh really?” Buffy’s tone was skeptical, but the smooth, confident words were a bit unnerving. Crossing her arms across her chest, she waited for Cordelia to continue.

“And it’s such a romantic country. Those cozy Inns… it was almost like a honeymoon.” Cordelia dabbed her lips with a rich red lipstick that seemed to shimmer. Her smile in the mirror was almost malevolent. “You’ll have to go there sometime – you know, when you find someone of your own.”

“Maybe I will.” Buffy replied coolly, moving toward the door intending to leave the room. She didn’t want to hear any more. Stopping at the threshold, she turned back. Wanting to get back at Cordelia, if only a little, she couldn’t resist a small jibe, “Maybe I’ll ask Angel to take me. You know, sometime.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will. Just like he’s done dozens of times before with dozens of other girls.” Cordelia turned from the mirror, wickedness and anger flashing in her eyes for a brief moment, “He always has been a spoiled boy. I don’t think that’s changed.”

“What do you mean?” The petite blonde stood frozen in her spot, the implication disastrous to her peace of mind.

“Really Buffy, do you actually expect Angel to fall in love with you or something? You may be married to him, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be faithful, now or ever. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but that’s the way he is. With Angel, there will always be other women.” The brunette shook her head in feigned commiseration. “I warned you about getting involved with him, knowing that you’ll only get hurt, but I understand how irresistible he is, so I can’t say that I blame you.” Seeing the doubt in Buffy’s eyes, Cordelia mentally smirked. How easy it was to manipulate the naïve little mousey blonde. No doubt she believes in true love and soul mates and all that crap.  “I understood when I got involved with him that there would be other women, so I to try to accept it. To be honest, that’s the main reason why I didn’t marry him myself. He wanted to – to get married that is - but I told him that I could have a lover who was unfaithful, but never a husband.”

“I don’t believe you.” Buffy said after a few long minutes, her voice calm and low.

“Suit yourself. You’ll find out soon enough.” Cordelia replied flippantly. After Buffy disappeared through the curtained doors, the brunette smiled ruthlessly. She had hoped to provoke more of a reaction out of the little blonde, but no matter. Checking her hair and make-up one last time, she contented herself with the fact that she had at least planted some seeds of discord between them. Given time, she could make them grow.

* * *

Buffy found a quiet cool spot in the shade and stood still for a few minutes, her eyes closed. She rubbed her temples and attempted to chase away the unwelcome images that Cordelia’s words had sparked in her mind. Her first inherent impulse was to disregard the brunette’s assertions. Angel had said he had sent Cordelia home, that he hadn’t wanted her in Ireland, but the woman herself implied otherwise.  Who was telling the truth?  Buffy wanted to believe Angel, but she was uncertain… she should trust her instincts? Or was she foolishly naïve?  They had talked about past relationships during their workbook question and answer sessions, and while Angel never denied that there had been more than a few women, he claimed that none of them had been anything even bordering on serious.

Could he be faithful?  Had he even considered that as part of the deal with respect to marriage?  With respect to their marriage? While she hadn’t thought about it specifically before today, she had to admit that she expected no less of her husband. Finding out that he was cheating on her would be devastating. It would also be the end of them.

The question now, what was she going to do?

A few minutes later, a decision made, Buffy walked slowly through the crush of people in search of Angel or his friends. After weaving her way along the far side of the pool, she finally spotted Angel’s dark head. As she drew closer, she saw that Cordelia was now standing next to Doyle and talking animatedly. Angel, Wes, Gunn and Fred all stood near by talking amongst themselves.

Angel smiled at her as she walked up, reaching out to take her hand. He tugged her forward to stand next to him, his hand sliding along her arm to slip around her waist. He could sense her change of mood immediately.

“Is everything okay?” He whispered near her ear, his hand gently stroking the bare skin of her back.

Buffy looked up at him, searching his face. What should she say? This wasn’t the time or place to have a serious conversation about real or imagined infidelities.

“Angel.” Cordelia’s voice interrupted before Buffy could collect her thoughts. “I was just telling Doyle about the drive along 101. There’s that beautiful little beach cove. How far is that?”

It was obvious to Buffy that Cordelia was reminding him of some romantic interlude. Didn’t she realize how important it was that their friends be convinced that their wedding was the real deal?  Even if she and Angel were sneaking around, in public Angel was hers and Buffy felt a sudden urge to prove it. And it supported her decision to trust him – at least until he proved otherwise either in word or deed.

Leaning into Angel, Buffy placed her palm on the sculpted muscles of his stomach and looked up at him through the veil of her lashes. “Sounds romantic,” she murmured softly, so that only Angel could hear, “like a nice place for newlyweds.”

Angel forgot Cordelia’s question completely, smiling at his wife and leaning down to whisper in her ear, “I’ll have the car out front in two minutes.”

His warm breath against the sensitive skin of her neck gave her goose bumps and she shivered slightly. Pressing her breasts against his side, she shifted closer. She could feel Cordelia’s eyes burning a hole in her back.

“Go ahead and kiss your wife Angel.” Gunn urged with a laugh, his own arm looped around Fred’s shoulders. They two of them had just moved in together recently, a situation that suited them both. “You look like you’ve been dying too all day. Might as well get it over with. Besides, we all know you’re still in that honeymoon phase.”

Buffy needed no encouragement, particularly with Cordelia watching. Maybe it was childish, but she wanted to prove something to the wealthy brunette. And maybe, she wanted to prove something to herself. As Angel reached for her, Buffy stepped forward and slid her hands up his chest to twine around his neck.

Angel intended a light, controlled kiss, but with Buffy’s half-naked, supple figure stretching up against him, his intentions slipped away. Bending his head, he met her lips with his own. His hands clasped her waist as they melded together. Buffy parted her lips beneath his, and he drew her closer. He moved his hands deliberately over the smooth silk of her skin down to her hips, drawing her softness into his hard frame. The kiss was long, slow, and thorough.

Buffy forgot all about wanting to prove something to Cordelia in the increasingly explicit exchange. Her tongue boldly swept in his mouth to meet his with an eagerness that was neither staged nor restrained.

Somewhere behind them, someone gave a loud wolf whistle. Only Wes and Doyle had seen Cordelia stomp off in a huff.

Buffy heard the sound through the haze of desire, opening her eyes to see Angel watching her with dark, assessing eyes. Slightly breathless, she stared up at him. God, she wanted him. She didn’t care about anyone or anything else. That might not be the best thing for their relationship given the number of uncertainties that existed between them. It certainly wasn’t going to help in maintaining their resolve for ‘slow’.  Suddenly aware of their very public surroundings, she moved away from him. She could also use the distance to collect her thoughts.

Angel however refused to let her stray too far, one strong arm still holding her close. He found himself feeling very possessive about his wife. Buffy was a beautiful and sensual prize and all his. It was no small wonder he felt like gloating.

The rest of the afternoon they mingled with their friends, talking, laughing and having a good time. Angel’s hand often lingered on Buffy’s waist or the small of her back. He would deliberately brush his fingers over the nape of her neck, smiling at the resulting shiver from his wife. The touch of his hand on her bare skin was so intimate somehow that Buffy found herself with goose bumps despite the heat.

Their friends offered toasts to their happiness, which they graciously accepted. They had both long forgotten about the need to put on any show for their friends; it wasn’t necessary.

From his seat along the edge of the pool, Lindsey watched Buffy and Angel speculatively.

It was dark when Angel led Buffy on to the dance floor once again, which was now lit with low lights and tiki torches. Raucous laughter and splashes could be heard from the pool, an aggressive game of volleyball still in progress. Several couples, including Gunn and Fred, had found private, dark corners and were actively engaged in heated embraces. Wes had gone home earlier, having an early day tomorrow at the hospital. Doyle had disappeared somewhere in the house with a tall brunette named Meghan.

“You ready to go home?” Angel asked as they swayed slowly to the music.

“Whenever you are.” Buffy murmured in reply, her eyes closed and her cheek resting against his chest.

“Kiss me.”  He whispered, guiding them toward a dark corner just off the edge of the dance floor. He turned her so that her back was against the wall, his broad shoulders blocking the view of her from any passers-by.

As he leaned toward her, Buffy’s lids lowered, her lips parted and her gaze dropped to his lips. She licked her lips unconsciously just before his mouth covered hers.

Buffy returned his kisses avidly, greedily. She delighted in the feel of his body pressed to hers, and wriggled closer, rubbing her tingling breasts against the hard muscle and warm skin of his chest. 

Angel changed the slant of his head, deepening the kiss and plunging his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it lightly, wanting more. Sinking against him brazenly, she pressed closer still. She could feel the hard length of his erection rigid against her stomach and it sent a spiraling warmth through her body.

She gasped in his mouth as his hands moved up along the bare skin of her waist to the edge of her bikini top. His fingers traced the edge teasingly before he flattened his palms and once more slid his hands back down to her hips.

Buffy mewled softly into his mouth. She wanted him to touch her as he had before - she wanted to feel his lips and hands on the bare skin of her breasts.

Angel kissed her hungrily, ravaging her mouth thoroughly before he eased back and lifted his head. He reminded himself that he had promised to take things slowly with Buffy; she deserved better than an adolescent grope in a dark corner. With his hands on her waist, he set her back away from him. He met her wide-eyed gaze, searching her eyes.

Buffy could barely breathe. Her pulse was racing and her senses were whirling, but she understood why he pulled away. It was enough. For now.

Without a word, he took her hand and led them down to the pool house to collect their things. In another twenty minutes they were on their way home, speeding down the road in the black GTX.

When they arrived back at the apartment, Angel used every ounce of will he possessed to drop only a light brushing kiss against Buffy’s lips as he wished her a good night. Anything more and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself.

It was a long while before either of them slept.

Buffy kept busy on Sunday with household chores and various errands, eager to distract herself from the tempting thoughts of her husband, and his wickedly enticing kisses from last night, before she did something that might embarrass them both. When she left for her shift at Patina, Angel kissed her goodbye, a sweet, tender kiss that filled her with an inviting warmth and tempted her to call in sick.

Despite the relative slowness of the Sunday evening shift, the night seemed to fly by. Buffy’s good mood was infectious to both her coworkers and customers, and the atmosphere of the restaurant was filled with a rare jovial camaraderie. Snyder’s absence no doubt contributed to the mood, making it a much more pleasant place to work than it normally seemed to be.

Monday morning found Buffy on edge, restless. She was grateful for her kickboxing class, which got her out of the apartment early and gave her a way to vent some of her nervous energy, but by mid-afternoon a heightened sense of anxious anticipation had returned.  She listened to the radio and sipped iced tea as she dug through the closet, sorting through her clothes and trying to decide what to wear tonight. It was one thing to think about a date with Angel in theory, but another to actually prepare for the reality. Holding a burgundy slip-style dress in front of her, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Wrinkling her nose slightly, she exchanged it for a dark blue halter-style dress and once more returned to the mirror to scrutinize her reflection.

She was glad that Angel had gone out with Doyle earlier and said he wouldn’t be back until almost time for them to go. It was hard enough to get ready without having him nearby, particularly when she planned to occupy their only bathroom for most of the afternoon showering, shaving, and moisturizing in addition to all of the other things that went into preparing for a really important date.

After several more minutes of deliberation, she smiled and hung the dark blue dress on the closet door. Now, which shoes?

***

Doyle, breathing heavily, slowed and finally came to a stop, resting his hands on his thighs. He watched as Angel continued to run at a grueling pace around the track surrounding the UC Sunnydale football field. They’d often worked out together, but today Angel was setting so punishing a pace that Doyle wondered exactly what had set off whatever it was that seemed to be driving his long-time friend.  They’d already spent almost an hour lifting weights in the gym before they headed, against Doyle’s protests, outside in the hot afternoon sun to the track.

Angel pushed himself harder, almost sprinting when he hit the straightaway on the opposite side of the field. After another two laps at nearly the same speed, he reduced his speed to a jog and did one final lap to cool down before he finally slowed to a walk and made his way to where Doyle now sat on the bleachers alongside the field.

“You want to talk about it?” Doyle asked with his characteristic straightforwardness. There was never any need for pretext between the two men, something that obviously added to their long standing friendship.

“Nothing to talk about.” Angel replied, reaching in his bag to retrieve a towel and a bottle of water.

“You sure about that?” Doyle asked, leaning back on his elbows and squinting at the two women in the distance that had just entered the field and were making their way around the track before he returned his gaze to Angel speculatively. “Because it looked to me like you were running like the hounds of hell were chasing you. I’d say you’re trying to get you mind off something… or, should I say, someone.”

Angel drank over half the bottle of water before spraying his face liberally with the rest of it to cool off. He wiped his face again before he glanced back at Doyle intently and shook his head.

“Well I’m done for,” Doyle said after a minute, picking up his bag and rising to his feet, “If you want to get your mind off your lovely wife by wearing yourself out in yet another grueling sport, count me out. It’s bad enough that you got me up at the crack of dawn and drug me down here as it is.”

“It was after nine.”

“As I was saying, the crack of dawn.” Doyle returned with a grin as the two of them made their way toward the locker room. “So, the Rangers play tonight. Dublin’s is carrying a delayed broadcast of the game. Meet there around seven? I need a pint or two of fortification before the game starts. More if they’re going to play like they did last time.”

“Can’t.”

Doyle turned and glanced at Angel, his gaze incredulous. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m taking Buffy out tonight.” Angel replied calmly as he opened the door and stepped into the cool hallway.

The explanation did nothing to diminish Doyle’s astonishment. Continuing to stare at Angel with wide eyes, he said, “We’re talking about the Rangers and Portstewart. They lost to those bastards last time. She’s your wife already, man, you’re past the need to impress, not to mention the small fact that you can and do see her any and all the time. Wait, let me guess. You had your first newlywed fight, and now you’re trying to make amends.”

“No, nothing like that.” Angel dropped his bag on the bench behind him and reached for the locker combination. “And I’m still taking her out to dinner.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Nope.” Angel removed his watch and placed it on the top shelf of his locker. “Made reservations at Ginza Shushiko.” He shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “She likes sushi.”

“Argh, tell me it isn’t so! Tell me she doesn’t have you whipped.”

“No, we haven’t got to anything quite that interesting,” with a small chuckle, Angel added, “yet.” 

Doyle let out a short bark of laughter. “Don’t tell me. No, wait, on second thought, tell me. I want details. You can start by telling me what she looks like naked.”

Angel shook his head, but returned Doyle’s grin with a smug grin of his own. “I don’t think so. Besides,” he continued reprovingly, “we’re talking about my wife. Not just some girl.”

Doyle shook his head and whistled softly, “She must be damn good. When’s the last time you missed a Rangers’ game – one that there was a chance of actually seeing that is. Not many are broadcast here in good old Sunnydale.”

“I’ve missed a game before, Doyle, and you know it.” Pulling his sweat soaked t-shirt over his head, Angel stuffed it in the bottom of his locker. He stripped off his shorts and threw them on the bottom shelf along with his other dirty clothes.

“Oh, now I get it.” Doyle exclaimed, slapping himself on the forehead as he sat down to take off his own shoes. Marriage, or even long term relationships, brought with them a certain adjustment of schedules, one of which was the accommodation to a woman’s monthly cycle. Angel’s attempt to wear himself to exhaustion must be because of an excess of pent up sexual energy due to such a conciliation. Now his behavior at least made some sort of sense.

“Get what?” Angel questioned, one eyebrow lifting skeptically as he glanced over his shoulder. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he closed the metal door of the locker.

“You’re in love, but more importantly, you’ll be getting laid.” Doyle grinned as he tossed his clothes into his locker and slammed it shut. He slung his towel over his hips and started walking toward the shower. “Even I’d give up a soccer game for that, especially after a week of abstinence and doubly so when the woman is as hot as your wife.”

“It’s not what you think,” Angel answered brusquely, automatically. He stopped short, regarding his friend carefully. He wasn’t in love. Nor, he reminded himself on a deep exhalation of breath, was he getting laid.  Maybe not tonight, a little devil in his head suggested, but there were plenty of other Buffy delights yet to be tasted that would make any waiting for the actual act worthwhile.

“Uh huh.” Doyle replied dubiously, making a right and crossing into the tile covered shower area. He tossed his own towel on a hook near the first shower. “Then you want to explain it to me? Because I can’t think of anything else that makes any kind of sense.”

“No.” Angel returned flatly, walking to the shower stall on the far end and turning on the water, effectively shutting out any of Doyle’s reply and any further commentary until almost an hour later when they climbed into Angel’s GTX for the ride home.

“First you, then next I’m sure wedding bells are going to ring for Gunn. I hope this isn’t catching.” Doyle said seriously, leaning down to look through the open passenger window as he closed the car door behind him. Despite the prodding and teasing on the drive, he hadn’t been able to get Angel to say anything more about either his wife or his evening plans.

“I think you’re safe.” Angel said with a faint smile, glancing at his friend then in the rear view window. “Have a drink for me.”

“Dru will miss you.” Doyle answered with a wink, thinking of the attractive brunette that waited tables at Dublin’s Pub and seemed overly interested in Angel. There was no question that the service was better when Angel was with the group. “But I’ll break the news to her that you’ve gone and fallen in love and got married.”

“That works.” Angel returned absently, glancing at his watch. He had almost an hour and a half before the agreed upon time for his date with Buffy. Enough time to run an errand before going home to change.

Watching as Angel drove away, Doyle shook his head slightly. Knowing Angel as well as he did, Doyle was well aware that his long-time friend had never considered marriage seriously before the highly secretive and rushed wedding – so alarm bells had sounded in his mind immediately when he heard the news. His first thought had been that Buffy had trapped Angel into marriage with some cunning ploy, like a deliberate ‘accidental’ pregnancy or some other form of blackmail. The fact that Angel had continued to see Cordelia after the date of the wedding had reinforced his suspicions. When Doyle finally met the mysterious Buffy, his suspicions tripled. Petite, blonde, and beautiful, he could easily see how she could get a man to do just about anything for her. Angel was obviously taken with her. Even Wes and Gunn seemed to fall easily under her spell after a few brief meetings.

Angel’s typical taciturn behavior had done nothing to help alleviate Doyle’s concerns that his friend had been somehow conned into marriage. When Angel finally confided that there were problems with his visa and that the BCIS was snooping around, Doyle thought he had found the key: Buffy had somehow used Angel’s immigration status to her advantage.

It was only recently after talking to Angel and later, seeing Angel and Buffy together that he had begun to grudgingly revise his opinion. In all honesty, he had to admit that Buffy didn’t appear to possess the manipulative qualities necessary to pull off such a scheme, but even more pertinent was Angel’s behavior. In all their years of friendship, Doyle had never seen Angel show even the smallest sign of jealousy, much less encourage public displays of affection, but he could think of no other way to describe his friend’s actions at the Kendall’s pool party. 

Now, Angel’s casual reply only confirmed what he had begun to suspect as of late; regardless of whatever reason they might have had for marrying and whether he would admit it or not, Angel was obviously enraptured with his wife. 

Whistling a happy tune, Doyle made his way to his apartment.

***

“You make my life complete…” Buffy half hummed and half sang along to the song playing on the small portable CD player, finding the romantic Lenny Kravitz tune perfectly suited to her mood as she applied her make-up and put the finishing touches on her hair. “You make me feel so sweet…”

With one last nervous glance in the mirror she carefully scrutinized her appearance again. “Oh, I belong to you…” Her hair was pulled back at the sides and secured with a pearl clip at the crown of her head. A few strands were loose and curled around her face while the rest of her hair hung down, shiny and golden, over her shoulders. “And you belong to me too…”

Taking one last quick glance in the mirror, she snapped off the CD and unplugged the player before returning it to the bottom of the closet.

Angel stood on the deck, gazing down at the street below. His senses were on alert, the tension in his shoulders almost straining the fine silk of his shirt as he waited for Buffy.  It was impossible that he could be nervous. He was never nervous. This was just … dinner.

“Are these for me?” Buffy asked from the doorway, holding the bouquet of purple tulips in her hand. The flowers had been lying on the kitchen table wrapped in paper and tied with a white ribbon.

“Yes,” Angel turned and smiled, his eyes sweeping over her in assessment, “If you want them.”

“Thank you.” Her warm gaze met his over the flowers for a few lingering seconds before she retreated back into the house. Her voice was somewhat muffled when she continued speaking, “Let me just put them in some water.”

Angel followed her into the apartment and waited patiently while she arranged the flowers in a narrow glass vase and set it on the table. He admired her figure in the dark blue dress, the narrow halter-style straps offering only tenuous support for the plump mounds of her breasts, adding a delicious element of suspense to his interest as he considered what might happen were the bow at the back of her neck to become untied.

They made mundane small talk on the drive to the restaurant, Buffy sneaking glances at Angel out of the corner of her eye. He looked absolutely gorgeous in a pair of black slacks and a grey silk shirt, both of which fit his tall, muscular form perfectly.

They had walked only a few steps toward the restaurant, when Buffy stopped him, holding his arm to lean forward and adjust the strap of her shoe. Her breasts threatened to spill out of her dress, causing Angel to inhale deeply and wonder how he was going to keep his carnal urges firmly in check tonight. After that, each time she bent or turned he noticed that her breasts swayed gently, and he felt desire curl more tightly within him.

Buffy was more than impressed with the restaurant that he had selected, glancing up at him with an appreciative smile as the hostess escorted them to their table.  Ensconced in a cozy private room in the small restaurant, the candlelight adding an air of enchantment to their evening, conversation flowed freely in the tranquil ambiance as they enjoyed their dinner.

Buffy was cautious about her choices when she ordered, well aware that the restaurant was exceptionally expensive, but Angel ordered several of the rare delicacies himself and coaxed her to try them. He fed her little bites of food and she returned the favor, so by the end of the evening they had devoured their cuisine with playful intimacy.

Smiling, Buffy waited for Angel in the foyer of the restaurant after dinner. She wondered if she was slightly drunk from the few sips of potent sake that she had tried or simply just deliriously happy. She caught sight of Angel out of the corner of her eye as he made his way toward her from the back of the restaurant.  As if in slow motion, she watched as the pretty waitress put her hand on his arm, stopping him. When the girl smiled up at him flirtatiously and slipped a small piece of paper in his hand, Buffy’s smile slipped from her face, her happiness suddenly marred. She glanced away, looking out the window to the street as Cordelia’s words rang forcefully through his mind, “You may be married to him, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be faithful, now or ever. With Angel, there will always be other women.”

Maybe she should just ask him if they were seeing each other exclusively. For her, it wasn’t an issue – there wasn’t anyone else she even wanted to date. But Angel… was he seeing Cordelia? Or someone else?  Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she considered what she might say to him, how to bring up the subject for discussion. After another few seconds of deliberation, she decided that it was too early to bring it up – it was only their first real date after all – despite the unusual fact that they were married. There would be time to ask him later. Right now, she resolved to put it aside and not let the actions of some other woman bother her. It wasn’t worth spoiling what had been a wonderful evening.

“I can’t believe that bitch gave you her number.” Buffy fairly exploded when Angel touched her elbow, guiding her toward the door. So much for any resolve to not let it bother her.

“She may have tried,” Angel responded dismissively, wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked slowly down the street, “I don’t honestly know. I threw away the paper she gave me without looking at it.”

“It was rude. Couldn’t she tell that you’re married?” She retorted, hot with resentment. She turned to face him as they stopped beside the car.

Angel looked at her cryptically for a moment, not entirely sure how to respond when his own feelings as of late were curiously out of character. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Buffy’s emotions were more in response to Cordelia’s remarks of the other night than to Angel’s answer.

“Buffy…” Angel began cautiously, aware that she was upset. Reaching out, he ran his hands down the smooth skin of her arms to take her hands in his. “Even if she doesn’t know, I know.” He tugged her closer, leaning down to look her directly in the eye. His nose brushed hers. “I’ve already forgotten all about her. What are we even talking about?”

As if his earlier statement finally registered, Buffy asked, “Really? You threw it away?”

“Really, sweetheart,” Angel replied, brushing her cheek with a kiss.

Somewhat mollified by his answer, Buffy inched closer. By saying ‘Even is she doesn’t know, I know’, did that mean he intended to take their wedding vows seriously? She was still trying to rationalize that statement and gauge the level of her anger when she heard his soft whisper near her ear.

“Let’s go home. I want to kiss you.” Raising her hand slowly, he brought it to his lips and placed a warm kiss in her palm. “And maybe show my appreciation for that dress.”

Buffy glanced up at him, her eyes wide. After a moment, her lips curved up in a smile, warmed by the teasing, interested light in his eyes. When he held her close and looked at her like that, she couldn’t doubt his sincerity. He fascinated her and charmed her, allowing her to easily accept romantic notions of love and fidelity and forget that it might all just be a familiar game for him. With her earlier feelings of contentment and happiness gradually returning, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him.

When they finally returned to the apartment, Buffy lit the few candles along the mantle while Angel retrieved the CD player from the bedroom. The sounds of the CD Buffy had been playing earlier drifted through the apartment as Buffy sank down on couch and kicked off her high-heeled sandals. Arching her back slightly to stretch, she sighed gratefully, “Thank you again for dinner. That was wonderful. I never thought I’d ever get to go there.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Angel said as he joined her on the couch. She was a glorious sight, he thought, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her golden hair loose on her shoulders.

Buffy looked up and smiled – a winsome, half-seductive smile that Angel couldn’t resist. His pulse soared. Bending his head, his mouth closed over hers, drawing in her soft, breathless sigh.

Lifting her arms and wrapping them around his neck, Buffy melted into him and pressed her lips eagerly against his. A shiver ran along her spine when Angel made a soft sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, and his hands moved to her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

His silk shirt was thin and slick, as was her dress, and Buffy felt almost as if nothing existed between them. She eased back on the couch, pulling Angel with her so that he was lying over her.

Angel could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the small, hard pebbles of her nipples pressing into him. His lips moved on hers hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth. For a very long time, he only kissed her - on her eager lips, the downy arch of her brow, the soft smooth skin of her cheek, the sensitive hollow behind her ear, the silken column of her throat and her warm, bare shoulders before finally drifting slowly along the edge of her dress just above her breasts.

Buffy sighed languorously and mewled softly in pleasure as she gave herself up to his attentions. Enthralled, she couldn’t get enough of him. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her, and her hips moved unconsciously against his in a sensuous rhythm, trying instinctively to lure him closer.

His lips returned to hers and their tongues twined, sliding together in a heady seductive kiss. One of her hands slipped to his head, and she buried her fingers in his thick hair. Her other hand clung to his shoulder, her fingers flexing as she gripped him tightly in a desperate urge to move closer.

When their lips parted again, Buffy sucked in a gasping breath. Before she could open her eyes, his lips settled on hers again. His kiss was ravenous, demanding and an answering flash of heat raced through her veins.

With one hand, Angel reached up and cupped her breast.

Buffy’s breath hitched. His touch was muted by the thin material of her dress, but still she felt it acutely, arching into his hand. He stroked and kneaded gently before his thumb found the taut peak of her nipple. The sheer pleasure of his caresses spread through her body with a molten heat making her every nerve hum with anticipation. Undeniably, she wanted more. She wanted his touch on her bare skin.

Breaking their kiss, Angel shifted and moved back slightly. Finally he did what he had wanted to do since he had first seen her standing in the doorway: he tugged the tie of her halter dress free with a quick tug. With agonizing slowness, he pulled the top of her dress down, the material teasingly scraping her nipples as it slid along her skin. He gazed at her bare breasts for a long moment, watching as her nipples seemed to tighten even more under his gaze.

Feeling the cool air on her skin, Buffy drew in a shaky breath. Angel’s hand returned, curling around her breast and cupping the soft weight in his palm. Gently he took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed, rolling it slightly. Her senses leapt when she felt the touch of his lips on her heated skin, and she gave a small moan of pleasure.

Angel placed small kisses on the smooth skin surrounding her aureole before he drew the taut peak of her nipple into his mouth. He suckled and Buffy squirmed, clutching at his hair and pulling him closer. He nibbled and licked and sucked, alternating between breasts until Buffy thought she would die from the sheer pleasure.

Angel wanted to devour her; he wanted to sink into her and feel her surrounding him intimately. He wanted to shove her short skirt up and take her, thrusting hard and deep into her body. His feelings were so intense and pervasive, he wondered for a moment at his sanity. Clenching his jaw and taking a breath, he moved back slightly and fought for some semblance of control. He stifled a groan as his body protested his withdrawal. He couldn’t continue or he’d end up taking her here and now on the couch. There was no doubt that he wanted to make love to her, but he also wanted their first time together to be special. He suspected that Buffy was a virgin; she deserved a special night. And he needed to know that she was sure.

Buffy’s lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes to look at him. Her luminous green eyes were slumberous with passion. “Angel?”

His eyes followed his fingers intently as he traced a small pattern over her skin, causing goose bumps to rise anew. When he spoke, his voice was deep, husky, “You’re beautiful.”

She flushed slightly, but kept her gaze directly focused on his face, “Why did you stop?”

His lips brushed hers lightly – too lightly to satisfy the hunger inside her.

“I don’t want to rush.” He murmured after a moment, his gaze contemplative. “We have plenty of time. Besides, I want to fully appreciate…” he paused, dropping a soft kiss followed by a suggestive lick on one nipple before pulling her top up to cover her, “all the stops along the way before I make love to you.”

Buffy drew in a breath as a flaring surge of passion washed over her at his words.

His gaze met and held hers for a long minute before she nodded in acceptance. With a strength of resolve she didn’t know she possessed, Buffy excused herself to get ready for bed.

***

“So I saw you come to the party with Angel.” Harmony said cheerfully, giving Cordelia a hug and blowing an air kiss on each cheek as they met outside April Fools.

“It’s not what you think, unfortunately.” Cordelia replied as she followed Harmony into the small but exclusive boutique. The two women were frequent patrons of the shop, meeting there usually once a week to peruse the latest fashions before heading down to the Espresso Pump for a latte and gossip.

“Oh?”  Harmony questioned, taking a red print skirt off the rack and handing it to the sales girl now trailing along behind them.

“I told you I was going to see Angel, right?  Well, so I told him that I’d given it some thought and was no longer mad at him for sending me away from Ireland. I said that I understood that he was stressed out and not thinking clearly, particularly about making his marriage work.” The brunette paused and rolled her eyes slightly. “I mean, where did that come from anyway - making his marriage work? Like it’s a real marriage, or something?” She gave a skeptical snort as she picked up a pale blue sheath dress and examined it before stuffing it carelessly back on the rack.

“And?” Harmony asked as she paused by a small table to scrutinize the scarves that were neatly stacked for display. “So what’d he say?”

“Not much. Is this my color?” Cordelia held out a scarlet dress with a plunging neckline. In all honesty, Cordelia had talked almost non-stop the entire time she had been in the car giving Angel little or no opportunity to reply to anything she had said.

“Oh, absolutely. You look fab in that color.”

“Anyway, I told him that I understood completely about the BCIS and that I could see why he would need to pretend to have a relationship with Buffy. I mean, I doubt that the stupid little cow can be even half way convincing to the BCIS woman otherwise, so it’s probably the only hope he has to get his green card or whatever.  Not that I told him that, but I’m sure that’s a huge reason why he’s doing this.  Anyway, I also said that I know his whole future depends on this, so it was only natural that he’d be all nervous and stuff about it, not to mention a little cranky. Oh, and I said that I knew he was sorry so he didn’t have to apologize. I said some other stuff too, you know, so he’d realize I was all understanding and supportive.”

“Hm, I guess.” Harmony replied distractedly, handing a peach pantsuit to the sales girl still following behind her. The girl scurried away to hang the stack of items in her arms in the fitting room.

“What? You don’t think he’s actually serious about her?”  Cordelia snapped, pinning her best friend with a glare. “He can’t be. He has to be just doing this to make Buffy think he cares so that she doesn’t screw it up.”

Harmony shrugged, “You saw them together at my party. She was hanging all over him.”

“What you’re seeing there, Harm, is yet another Buffy mistake. I know for a fact that Angel hates clingy and hates PDAs.” The brunette declared hotly. She had first hand experience; Angel had coolly and politely shaken her off on several different occasions. The fact that he seemed to tolerate Buffy’s clinginess grated on her, as did the kiss that she witnessed.

“I didn’t see him exactly complaining. He seemed to, like, cling back.” The blonde stated airily, her blue eyes wide and seemingly innocent. Despite being the closest of friends, the two women were fiercely competitive about wardrobes, jewelry and men; opportunities to make digs or achieve any sort of an imaginary social advantage were never passed up.

“I’m sure it’s just an act.” Cordelia sniffed indignantly, examining a black Tahari dress before tossing it casually on a nearby chair for the salesgirl to scoop up. “Like I said, he has to pretend to like her so that everyone else believes that their ‘relationship’ is real. Kissing her in public is just part of the act.”  She punctuated her sentence with exaggerated air quotes around the word relationship.

“I don’t know, Cordy… I saw them making out before they left. It didn’t seem very pretend to me.”

Cordelia frowned. She hadn’t seen that, being inside and rather occupied herself by doing body shots with Xander, but anything was possible. Buffy probably threw herself at him again just like she had done earlier by the pool, and he couldn’t exactly say no. Regardless, Angel would never, ever fall in love with someone like Buffy, much less stay with her for very long. As soon as he had his green card, his little pretense with Buffy would be over.

Noticing that Harmony was watching her curiously, Cordelia shrugged dismissively, “Well, so what if they were kissing. It doesn’t mean anything. Most guys will fuck anything that’ll let them, and obviously little Buffy falls into that category. If he wants to screw her, then let him get her out of his system now. He’s not going to stay with someone like her, married or not.” 

“Okay, I’m done. I’m going to the fitting room.” The brunette glanced quickly around the store once more before returning her gaze to her friend. “Besides,” she added airily as she flounced back to the elegant dressing area, “I’ve already started working on Plan B.”

“Plan B?” Harmony questioned with a lift of her eyebrows as she entered the small room containing the things that she picked out.

“Plan B.” Cordelia affirmed decisively, drawing the curtain closed behind her.

“Uh, share? I need details.” Harmony’s voice came from the room next door.

“I just planted a few little seeds of doubt in Angel’s mind about little Miss Buffy.” The brunette answered a few short minutes later, standing in the middle of the room wearing the black Tahari dress and eyeing herself in the large, triple mirror. “You remember Parker Abrams, don’t you?”

“I think so…” Harmony mumbled, coming to stand next to Cordelia at the mirror. She was wearing the peach pantsuit.

“Well, he and Buffy apparently had a little thing awhile back, so I may have told Angel what I had heard about that.”  Cordelia turned and looked back over her shoulder at the back of the dress. “Guess little Miss Buffy is a kinda kinky. Which, now that I think about it, makes total sense why Angel might be kind of interested in her right now…” Turning again, the wealthy brunette smoothed the fabric along her hip. “Honestly, men are totally ruled by their cocks.”

“Buffy’s into kinky sex?” Harmony questioned with a giggle as she returned to her dressing room.

“That’s the rumor.” Cordelia replied smugly, also returning to her fitting room to try on the next thing she picked out. The flattering black Tahari dress went into her ‘to purchase’ pile.

“Okay, but how is that a Plan B?”  Harmony asked, the confusion in her tone obvious even though her voice was muffled from the distance and the fact that she was changing her clothes. “Wouldn’t that just make him want to see her?” 

“Not necessarily… not if he thinks that she’s going to blow the whole thing for them because she’s all hot for another guy. Or maybe lots of other guys.” The brunette answered matter-of-factly, slipping on a pale green slip dress. Thinking back to the party, Cordelia remembered that the guy who had come to the party with Kate had seemed to know Buffy as well. She’d have to ask Kate about that.

“You think she’s still seeing Parker then?” The blonde asked as she once more came to stand in front of the mirror.

“I may have embellished it a little and said that something was still going on.” Cordelia replied, frowning as she exited the dressing room to stand next to Harmony. The pale green was an unflattering shade for her and she grimaced.

“You didn’t?”

“I did.” With a flip of her hair, Cordelia returned to the dressing room and stripped off the green dress. She tossed it carelessly in a ball in the corner. “I told Angel that I only told him about Buffy and Parker because I know how important this is to him and because I care about him.”  Her tone was one of practiced innocence.

“Did he believe you?” Harmony asked as she returned to change outfits as well.

“Well, he didn’t seem too happy about it. When we got to your place, I told him that I’d always be here for him if he needed me to talk or whatever then I hugged him and left.”

“Ooh, nice touch.”

“I thought so.” Cordelia stood in front of the mirror in the scarlet dress with the plunging neckline. The back was also low, dipping below her hips to reveal the upper curve of her behind. She smiled. This was exactly the kind of dress that made men crazy. “Guys seem to always want the girl they can’t have. I’ll show Angel that I’m caring and supportive, not to mention stunningly beautiful. If another guy, or two, shows interest… well, even better. A little jealousy can be a good thing.”

“Ooh. True.” Harmony, wearing a pale pink sundress, came out of the dressing room. “Oh, Cordy!” She gasped, “That is absolutely perfect on you. You have to get it.”

“I know.” Cordelia gushed, holding out her arms and twirling in a circle. “Let’s just see if Angel still says he’s going to stay with Buffy once he sees me in this.”

“True.” Harmony gave a little happy clap and smiled. After a second, her smile faded and her brow creased in concentration. “But I still don’t see how your plan is going to work.” 

“Divide and conquer, Harm. That’s a strategy that Grandpapa says always works.” Cordelia returned to the dressing room. Her voice was muffled as she continued to speak, “Did I tell you I ran into little Buffy in the bathroom?”

“No.” Harmony replied, carefully scrutinizing her own reflection in the mirror.

“We had a little girl-to-girl chat. I might have mentioned that she shouldn’t expect Angel to be faithful to her. I figure if she thinks she’s only one of many, the little mouse will retreat into her little hole for a while and not be all that interested in Angel. Which will, therefore, make Angel not at all interested in her.”

“But if he’s so worried about the BSCI people, won’t he be?” Harmony asked with a perplexed frown. “Faithful that is.”

“Oh, probably.” Cordelia shrugged as she came through the curtain once more. “I know I told you he turned me down, so I can’t imagine that he’s seeing anyone else.”

“I still don’t get it.” The blonde glanced over at her friend. “If Angel’s not screwing around, won’t Buffy figure that out eventually?”

“Well that’s why I have Plan C.” Cordelia said self-confidently, her eyes fixed on her reflection.

***

The next week was filled with a flurry of activities in preparation for the start of the new semester along with the start of classes.  Angel worried when he saw Buffy’s course schedule: it was full and then some. He cautioned her about taking on so much and still trying to work the same schedule at Patina, but she assured him – repeatedly – that she could handle it. It was no more than she had taken the semester before she met him.

Angel also noticed that she watched her budget carefully when purchasing her text books. She spent extra time searching out used books in good condition in order to save money.  It was the first time that he had wondered seriously about her finances. He had cashed the checks that she had given him for rent, but all the money went into a savings account that he intended on returning to her someday. He didn’t need the money and wouldn’t have taken the checks at all if she hadn’t been so adamant about paying her own way. She had once refused his offer of paying for all of their groceries during a trip to the store, and he knew better than broach that subject again.

Searching his memory, Angel recalled that Buffy’s father was in LA and that he didn’t help her out with any of her expenses. She had told him once in short, clipped phrases that her father lived in a sprawling new house in LA with his wife and her half-sister and that he had no interest in her, especially after he had collected the money from the house after her mother’s death.

With a thoughtful expression on his face, Angel promised himself then that he’d find a way to find out a little bit more about Buffy’s financial situation.

***

Early Sunday afternoon Buffy sat on the couch reading through the first few chapters of her psychology text. She glanced up as Angel opened the door, one hand clutching his bloody side.

“What happened?” She questioned with wide eyes. Her book was discarded without thought as she came quickly to her feet.

Angel hissed through his teeth, “Nothing.”  He moved his hand and glanced down at the wound. The blood that had seeped through his t-shirt was clearly visible.

“That looks like something.” Buffy replied matter-of-factly, one eyebrow lifting skeptically.

“It was stupid.” Angel answered, dropping his sports bag carelessly on the floor near the door.

“I’ll go get some bandages, just… take your shirt off.”

“So?” She called from the bathroom where she was searching through the assorted items in the cabinet. “What happened?”

Angel walked toward the bedroom, pulling his t-shirt over her head. He could hear the padding of her bare feet as she followed him into the room.

“Soccer game. The field isn’t the best. It’s near a large hedge that’s covering – as I found out the hard way - a very old picket fence.” He smiled slightly, a little embarrassed by the admission. He didn’t explain that he had been fighting for the ball with two of defensive players from the other team at the time and was essentially shoved into the tall hedge. 

“I like your tattoo.” Buffy said as she stopped behind him and studied the large tattoo on his shoulder. Without thinking, she reached up and traced it lightly with her fingers.

Feeling her touch on his back, Angel turned.

Buffy looked away, feeling flush and warm. She was very cognizant of the bed so very near. Despite several heated make-out sessions this week, they had yet to move into the bedroom.

“How did you know about it? I mean, did you… when Dr. Walsh asked?” Angel asked curiously, lifting his arms as Buffy washed the nasty gouge on his ribs carefully with a warm cloth.

She glanced up at his face. “Oh. I had to get some clothes one morning not long after I moved in – you were asleep on your stomach. I peeked.”

“Oh?” he murmured interestedly as she taped the white bandage squarely over the wound.

“Yes.” Buffy smiled up at him playfully. Her fingers lingered on his ribs just above the bandage. His skin felt warm to touch.

Leaning down, Angel kissed her gently. Buffy parted her lips and Angel shifted forward. His lips forced hers wider as his tongue thrust into her mouth in a now familiar game of thrust and parry. 

Buffy’s hands slid up his chest, palms flat, gliding as she traced the heavy muscles, and slowly explored the warm, smooth expanse of skin.

Hearing a sound at the door, Angel drew back slightly. Oblivious to his distraction, Buffy stretched upward against him, her hands going to his shoulders to steady herself as she pressed against him in flagrant invitation. Her hips rocked slowly into him in unconscious entreaty. Her fingers slid into his hair as she reveled in the raw hunger that he always made her feel.

Closing his arms around her possessively, Angel dismissed any other thoughts from his mind. He slanted his head, deepening the kiss. The unquenched desire that had been growing steadily between them smoldered for a scant few seconds before it flared hot. He walked backward, moving steadily toward the bed and taking her with him. In a smooth economy of motion Angel turned, easing her down.

Buffy’s arms clutched him closer as Angel settled over her, his hips between her thighs, his chest against her breasts. She hooked one leg over his hip, her foot on his thigh pulling him closer.

Bracing himself on his elbows, Angel kept the bulk of his weight from crushing her even as he continued kissing her with a hunger that said he would not be denied.

“Ah-hem. Am I interrupting something?” Doyle asked from his position just outside the doorway, a wide grin on his face.

Angel stilled, opening his eyes but otherwise didn’t move. “Yes.” He finally answered in an exasperated groan, his attention riveted on his wife.

“No.” Buffy squeaked in answer at the same time, her cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink.

“Sorry to interrupt, but after the game we, uh, wanted to make sure that you were all right. See, I had thought you were injured… I didn’t realize you were, er, occupied.” Doyle said teasingly, not in the least embarrassed. “Normally I wouldn’t just walk into your bedroom, but I thought you were back here alone, clumsily bandaging your wounds.” After a moment when Angel didn’t reply, a grin still on his face, Doyle shrugged in apology, “Why don’t I…  I’ll just go… somewhere else.”

“Good idea.” Angel said flatly, dropping his head to the bed next to Buffy’s shoulder.

“Uh, I have to go to work soon anyway.” Buffy said softly looking up at Angel. Her fingers stroked his shoulder absently and she had yet to move the leg still curled around him.

With a sigh, he kissed her again and then reluctantly rolled to the side to let her up.

There was no sign of Doyle or the others when Angel came out of the bedroom a few minutes later. Angel knew however, that Doyle would tease him endlessly about this later. He groaned, wondering of how many weeks of fake injury and wifely TLC jokes he’d have to hear.

***

When his last class of the afternoon ended early, Angel headed straight back to the apartment anxious to see his wife. In the last two weeks since school had started, they had only managed to snatch little bits of time here or there together - which meant that he would take every opportunity he could to see her.

Buffy looked up as he opened the door; she smiled warmly. “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“Criminal Evidence ended early. Professor Mortensen apparently had something that didn’t agree with him for lunch. Hey Willow.” Angel walked over and sat down on the arm of the couch next to his wife. Resting one arm along the back of the sofa, he picked up the paper in Buffy’s lap. “Chemistry?”

Willow nodded, watching the two of them with interest. “Homework. We have lab tomorrow.”

Angel scanned the page of notes and put it back in Buffy’s lap. He still worried that she was taking on too much this semester with both her course load and her work schedule. As it was, she already seemed to be studying constantly.  

“Are you going to be awhile?” Angel asked, studying Buffy’s profile as she looked down at her book. “Or do you want to get something to eat?”

As she looked up, Buffy’s arm brushed his thigh. Her eyes met his and she gave a disappointed frown, “Another half hour at least. Then I have to read a chapter for psych and, I think, do some calculus problems.”

“Take your time. I’m going to take a shower,” Angel brushed her lips lightly with a kiss before he rose smoothly to his feet, “Then if you want, I’ll make something.”  Turning, he smiled at one of his wife’s closest friends and frequent study partner, “Of course, you should stay and have dinner with us, Willow.”

Willow nodded eagerly, returning his smile. Oz was at a gig tonight so she was happy for the company. Besides, she knew from at least two other occasions that Angel was a great cook – which was definitely preferable to the ramen or mac and cheese that’d she be having if she went home and cooked for herself.

Buffy watched as Angel walked down the hall and disappeared into the bedroom, her expression wistful. Finally, at Willow’s insistence, she grimaced and returned her attention back to her studies.

“You think we’ll ever finish?” Buffy questioned with a groan almost half an hour later. Angel had emerged from the shower about ten minutes earlier and was now in the kitchen rattling around.

“We only have…” Flipping through the book, Willow looked through the exercises, “oh, only one more!”

“Finally! Then just psych and calculus…” Sighing heavily, the petite blonde closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch.

“You took on too much – again.” Willow chastised, glancing up at her friend with worry.

“I have to. I can’t afford to take five years to get my degree.” Buffy opened her eyes and sat forward, crossing her legs beneath her.

With a sigh, the red-haired girl twirled her pencil. “I’ll be in school forever.”

“Awhile, but not forever.” Buffy replied, knowing that her friend’s long term goal was to become a forensic pathologist. Since they were younger, Willow had been fascinated with the subject, devouring books and watching the various forensic science shows. “Besides, Will, you excel at academia.”

“Eh, maybe.” Willow shrugged dismissively, her features twisting into a pensive frown. “But it would be more fun if Oz hadn’t dropped out this semester. I mean, I’m happy that the Dingoes got so many great gigs and all, I just wanted to see him at school and stuff too.”

“I know.” The petite blonde empathized, before sitting up a bit straighter and smiling brightly, “But hey, you still get plenty of time to see him at home in the evenings and at night. That’s something. Think of it like he only has one class: Willow.” Buffy grinned, trying to cheer up her friend for what she knew wouldn’t be the last time. “And you can tutor him so he gets an A in that.”

“True,” Willow laughed. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, “So is Angel getting an ‘A’ in Buffy?”

“Oh, he’s definitely getting an ‘A’...” Her smile was impish, “in all his subjects.” She glanced toward the kitchen, wondering if the man in question could hear their conversation.

“I’m so happy that things are working out for you.” The red-haired girl replied sincerely. She was genuinely happy to see her friend so happy. It had been a long time since she had seen Buffy smile so much; Angel was definitely good for her. Willow also found herself smiling at their demeanor when they were together; they were just so cute with the sly looks, hand holding and sweet kisses.

“Thanks, Will. Me too.”

The next few minutes were quiet as they both turned their attention back to the one remaining chemistry problem. Finishing first, Willow closed her book and set it aside. Since Buffy was still working, Willow retrieved her anatomy book and flipped it open, reviewing the diagram of the muscular structure of the shoulder.  Her brow creasing into a frown, Willow glanced up. “I told you that Parker is in my anatomy class didn’t I?”

Only half-hearing the name, Angel paused in chopping the prosciutto for the pasta. Until that point he hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation in the other room. Hearing the name reminded him what Cordelia had told him weeks ago; comments that he had dismissed as gossip after a brief deliberation. Buffy herself had told him weeks prior when they had talked about people in their pasts that she had dated the guy twice and that it had been a mistake. But still, breath held, he couldn’t stop himself from listening for Buffy’s response.

“Hm, yes.” Buffy replied disinterestedly as she made one last notation in her notebook.

“Is he still coming in to Patina?” Willow asked with concern. Buffy had vented one more than one occasion about the annoyance and difficulty that Parker and his frat brothers at the restaurant caused at the restaurant. In fact, some of what Buffy had told her that Parker had said actually had made her a little afraid for her friend.

“Unfortunately. Anya said they were in on my day off.” Closing her book, Buffy set it aside. “At least I missed them.”

“And Snyder never says anything?” The red-haired girl asked incredulously, shaking her head. “You know, about what jerks they are?”

“You mean besides that they’re ‘just young and blowing off steam’?” Buffy sighed, a flare of indignation on her features. “Nope, not a word.”

Angel stirred the simmering cream sauce then took the boiling water with the pasta off the stove and poured it slowly in the colander, carefully to keep the sound to a minimum so as to not miss a word of Buffy and Willow’s conversation. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but his curiosity was peaked. Cleaning up, he wiped down the counter then picked up the knife he had been using earlier.

“But, Buffy…” Willow protested adamantly, “With Parker making threats and grabbing you and stuff, that has to be sexual harassment or something. Snyder has to do something or he’ll get in trouble. You should report it.”

Angel fingers closed around the handle of the knife until his knuckles turned white. His face was dark and set in grim lines; a furious rage washed over him.

“I guess, but report it to who?” Buffy asked, her voice low. “Most likely Snyder would just fire me and you know I can’t afford to lose that job without having another one lined up first. I’ll just have to deal with Parker and his friends. I figured if I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, then he’ll eventually tire of his little game and go away. It’s only fun for him if he gets to me.”  

Willow whirled around and Buffy jumped as a loud sound came from the kitchen.

Buffy rose quickly to her feet. She had a worried frown on her face. Quickly crossing the room, she peered cautiously into the kitchen. “Angel?”

“Hungry? Pasta’s ready.” Angel replied, walking toward Buffy with two dishes of pasta in hand. He stopped and studied her face for a few minutes. He wished that she would trust him enough to tell him what was going on. After a long moment, he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead then moved past her to set the plates on the table.

Wondering about his sudden strange mood, Buffy watched him for a few seconds before she picked up the remaining dish of pasta and followed him to the table. She never noticed the knife embedded firmly in the thick wood cutting block on the counter behind her.

***

Maggie Walsh burst through the glass doors of the BCIS offices. Without slowing her stride she strode to her office, her agitation plain. Grumbling, she slammed her notebook and briefcase on her desk then sat heavily in her chair.  Her meeting with Faith Emerson had been an exercise in frustration. The young woman had cooperated and answered all of her questions, but said nothing that would provide support for Maggie’s assertion that the O’Connor marriage was a fraud. In fact, with a wide eyed look of innocence, Ms. Emerson had smiled and told tale after tale of what Maggie was positively sure were made up stories about Buffy and Angel’s love life. If she had to hear a story that started with “And this one time, at their apartment…” again, Maggie was positively certain she’d scream and pull her own hair out.

Standing in the doorway, Doug Flutie, the Director of the California branch of the BCIS, made a steeple with his fingers beneath one of his many chins and surveyed one of his better agents; her anger and frustration was obvious. “Problems, Dr. Walsh?”

Maggie glanced up in surprise. She hadn’t realized that anyone had been standing there. She took a deep breath. “No, nothing that I can’t handle.” She answered dismissively, turning her attention to the paperwork piled on her desk.

“Good, good.” He nodded agreeably, a friendly smile on his face. “I never suspected otherwise.”

After several long seconds when it was obvious that he didn’t intend to budge from his position at the door, Dr. Walsh sat back in her chair and looked up at him. “Did you need something, Doug?”

“I had a call today about one of your cases, the O’Connor case.”

“Oh?” Maggie asked speculatively, shifting in her chair. She tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently. “From?”

“You’ve been working on that for what? Four, five months?” Doug Flutie studied his employee with casual regard. His casual, dopey demeanor hid a shrewd and perceptive mind; he wouldn’t have the position that he held at the BCIS otherwise.

“Yes… but you know that with these types of cases, the ones that are suspected to be fraudulent, it often takes time to complete a thorough investigation. Some cases have taken up to a year, as you well know.” Dr. Walsh returned coolly, unperturbed. “Who did you say had called?”

“I’d like to see what you have currently on the case.” He stated firmly, ignoring her question.

Maggie shook her head slowly, pressing her lips together to hide her growing anger. “I don’t really think it’s ready for you to review. It’s far from complete. I’m still working several angles and have several additional interviews to conduct with references. I have yet to write my report on the interview that I just came from, in fact.  I’d also like to talk to several of the professors at UC Sunnydale as well as the manager at the restaurant where Ms. Summers works as I believe they will have valuable information to contribute. That being the case, I think that it would be a waste of your time, given the incomplete state of the-”

“Just give me what you have.” Director Flutie interrupted, pushing away from the doorframe. “Knowing how thorough and detailed you are with your paperwork on all of your cases, I think that there will be sufficient enough information there for me to at least get a sense of how things are moving along. I trust that having a current report on my desk by the end of the day won’t be a problem.”

“Yes, sir.” Maggie Walsh’s dour face further soured.

***

It was almost nine when Angel finally entered Patina. He paused just inside the gated patio and looked around, scanning the crowd. After a few minutes, he spotted Buffy carrying a tray of drinks to a table at the far end of the patio on the left.

He had paced by the restaurant several times in the last few hours, debating exactly what it was he wanted to do and why he was there. Last night at dinner, he had wanted to ask Buffy point blank about Parker and what Willow had meant by ‘threats and grabbing’ but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. He didn’t know why she hadn’t told him, but he didn’t want her to think he was prying or being pushy – or perhaps worse, eavesdropping. When Buffy trusted him, she would confide in him. Until then, he doubted that anything short of torture would get her to tell him whatever it was that was going on with Parker. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t check it out for himself…

“Hey, so... can I help you?” The hostess asked with a flirtatious smile. Anya had seen the gorgeous guy pass the entrance several times and each time she prayed a little harder that he would finally come in. She had even entertained a dreamy little fantasy that he was working up the courage to ask for her number; it ended with the two of them in bed, Anya riding him like a stallion. By the third time she had seen him, she had planned their wedding on the beach in Antigua and was beginning to name their children.

Noting the direction of his avid gaze, Anya frowned. “She’s married.” When he seemed undeterred, she pouted and grumbled louder. “Very married.”

“I see.” Angel replied lazily, his gaze still following his wife as she crossed the restaurant once again. She was bustling around with a quick and friendly efficiency that he had come to recognize.

“He’s big too. And mean.” Anya cast a glance out of the corner of her eye, lifting one shoulder. “Really mean.”

Angel’s brow quirked upward. He turned then to look at the Patina hostess, a small smile playing on his face, “Really?”

“That’s what I’ve … okay, so I haven’t really heard that.” Anya confessed with a shrug. She found it difficult to lie directly to the piercing gaze. “But he should be, what with all the guys that come in here and want to sit in Buffy’s section.” Her lips pursed into a pout. “Which, I’m going to guess is what you want as well.”

“In a minute, yes.” Angel answered honestly, though his eyes glittered darkly. “Why don’t you tell me first, what guys?”

“Why?” She asked bluntly. She hugged the menus that she held in her arms to her chest and studied his face.

“I’m curious.” He gave her a charming smile as he slipped one hand in a pocket, taking on an almost casual stance.

“Well, there was one guy, Lindsey… he’s been back a couple of times. The first time he wanted to sit in Buffy’s section. The second time, well…” She preened slightly, smoothing her hair, “He asked me out. We’re going out next Thursday in fact. He drives a Mercedes, so I’m sure we’re going somewhere nice.”

“That’s nice.” Angel replied politely, “Now what about the other guys?”

Anya glanced away to smile and nod at the family of four leaving the restaurant. She turned back and looked at the man in front of her speculatively for several seconds.  “You’re Buffy’s husband aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Angel admitted after a long pause. “And I want to know about Parker Abrams.”

***

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked with a smile as she stopped next to the table where Angel sat.  She couldn’t help but notice that he looked perfect as always in a wine colored shirt and a pair of dark charcoal slacks. She ran one hand over her disheveled hair, suddenly conscious of her rumpled appearance.

“I wanted to see you.” He replied warmly, handing her the menu that Anya had left with him. “And maybe I wanted a glass of merlot and some chocolate mousse.”

“I’ve never seen you eat sweets.” Her eyebrow quirked upward, but still she smiled.

“The mousse is for you.” His gaze took on a suggestive gleam. “Although I could be persuaded to try it if you’ll let me eat it off your tummy.”

With a smile and a slight flush, Buffy retrieved the desired items from the kitchen and the bar, returning them to Angel’s table.

Suffused with a warm glow that withstood Snyder’s critical eye and Anya’s constant ribbing, the rest of Buffy’s shift passed by quickly. She flirted with her husband both in words and with her eyes as she went about her job, finding it an extremely pleasant and appealing way to pass the evening. She refused to give him his check, paying it herself. She had only just stepped out on to the sidewalk where Angel waited, when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and hard.

Minutes later, their hands intertwined and their smiles an indication of their shared good spirits, they made the short walk back to the apartment.

Just after they got home, Buffy excused herself to take a quick shower. She was anxious to wash away the food smells that she imagined clung to her after a shift at Patina.  Less than twenty minutes alter, wearing a pair of grey sweats and white t-shirt, she padded out to the living room and sat down on the couch.

“Tired?” Angel asked as he came to his feet. He had been reading, as he often did, while he waited for her.

“Not really.” She fluffed her hair, the long strands mostly dry now after a quick blow out with the hair dryer.

With a bemused smile, she watched as Angel turned off all of the lights but the lamp in the bedroom, leaving the room shadowed in darkness. He lit several of the candles along the mantle then walked forward to join her on the couch. Her lips curved into a gentle smile as she looked up at him.

Instead of sitting next to her as she had expected, he placed one knee on the cushion and leaned over her. With one hand, he tilted her face back to meet his kiss.

As always, she responded eagerly. Her lips parted beneath his, welcoming him and inviting him in. She tasted faintly of the chocolate mousse dessert he had brought and fed to her in sneaking bites when she stopped at his table. Slowly, he eased down beside her.

Buffy’s arms came up to twine around his neck even as she leaned back on the couch, her head resting on the pillows propped up in the corner.

Angel’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her against him. They kissed for long moments as if they were starved for the taste of each other, but it wasn’t enough to ease the hunger that had been growing between them for weeks.

Caught up in their kiss, Angel didn’t realize that Buffy had worked the buttons of his shirt free. A fleeting moment was all the warning that he had before her palms settled, soft and warm, on the bare skin of his chest.

Distracted, he drew back from the kiss and caught his breath as she boldly ran her hands over his chest, exploring. With her encouragement, he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor. 

Buffy flexed her fingers, gliding them over the hard expanse of muscle before sliding down along his ribs. Splaying her fingers wide, she caressed him eagerly, possessively.

Forcing his mind away from the pleasurable sensation of her touch, Angel pushed her t-shirt up and encouraged her to pull it over her head. Next he expertly unfastened her bra, baring the breasts that he was, by now, quite familiar with. He paused, savoring their absolute perfection: the pale smooth skin that contrasted with her tan, framing her breasts for his attention, and the pale rose of her taut nipples. He blew on one and watched it pucker before lowering his head and taking the tip between his lips.

Buffy gasped as he laved and suckled her nipple, dropping her head back as she sank her fingers in his hair to hold him close. Her other hand, still splayed on his chest, moved up to cover the tan pebbled nipple of his chest.  She closed her eyes and reveled in the now familiar pleasure, the delicious intimacy and waited expectantly for more.

Angel took his time, moving from one breast to the other and making the heat swirl higher and hotter within her. Beneath him, Buffy shifted restlessly and her hands moved frantically, one clenched in his hair, the other stroking his chest.  The sensation of his hands stroking her skin combined with the play of his lips and tongue on her breasts was more than pleasant, but still Buffy wanted more. And she wanted it now.

When he seemed content to linger, Buffy reached out and grabbed Angel’s wrist, bringing his hand to rest on her stomach. She didn’t need to give him any further encouragement. His fingers teased, kneading her abdomen gently before slipping beneath the waistband of her sweats.

She tensed, the anticipation curling through her body and growing steadily until she ached. She lifted her hips in flagrant invitation, deliberately forcing his hand lower.

Angel glanced up at her face, his eyes glittering darkly. A primitive, unrestrained need, provoked by her actions, slammed through him and shook him to his very core. He wanted her with a need so acute that it was physical pain.

“Angel…Touch me.” Buffy demanded, her gaze locked with his. The green of her eyes was darker, luminous. She was breathy, dizzy with desire and gripped with a sense of urgency. Her senses seemed heightened yet greedy for every sensation, every kiss and every touch.

He shifted slightly, returning his lips to hers. The thought flashed through his mind that he could make love to her here, tonight. After a few seconds of mental debate, he reminded himself that there were a few pleasures yet that he wanted to show her. He could wait; but not much longer.

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat as Angel’s hand slid lower, slipping beneath her panties to skim the neatly trimmed curls before moving lower still.  Her body was seemingly no longer in her own control as she lifted her hips to meet his exquisite stroking fingers. The delicious sensations spiraled higher and higher until Buffy broke off their kiss to catch her breath. Her head dropped back as she gave herself up to the steadily building coil of tension.

Angel moved back a few inches, his gaze roving over her face, down to the flushed skin of her breasts and the taut peaks of her nipples, over her stomach to her hips, where his hand moved rhythmically between her legs beneath the grey cotton of her sweats.  His hand shifted, probing deeper. Slowly and deliberately his thumb circled and caressed the highly sensitive spot he’d teased before through layers of clothing.

Reaching up, Buffy attempted to tug him closer. She was nearing the edge of the precipice and she wanted him with her, she wanted him closer.

“Relax and just feel.” Angel murmured softly, his lips curving up in a small smile. His lips brushed her neck and she shivered, mewling softly. She was close… so very close. The maelstrom of sensations overwhelmed her suddenly; she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder as the heated hysteria seized her. Her breathy whimper exploded in the shadowed room, and she melted under his hand.

He planted soft kisses on her face and neck, and held her until the last shuddering spasm died away. Her eyelashes fluttered a short while later, and she opened her eyes to look up at him with a satisfied sigh. She reached for him, wanting to offer the same glorious pleasure that he had given her, “I want to touch you.”

He caught her hand. “Next time.” He whispered against her cheek, uncertain if he’d be able to keep to his resolve to wait just a little longer.

“Now.” She countered, shaking off his hand.

They gazed at each other for a long moment, Buffy stubbornly insistent, Angel uncertain.

Her gaze still locked with his, she lowered her hand to his stomach. The muscles beneath her palm tensed. Slowly her hands glided down along the smooth warm skin to his pants. She drew her fingertips along the length of his rigid erection, the soft material of his pants warm to the touch. After several breath-held seconds of exploration, she worked the top button free with his help, then tugged his zipper down bit by bit.

Shifting positions, she pressed him down on the couch and moved so that she was kneeling between his knees. With a boldness that surprised him, she tugged his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not…” She traced the hard length with one finger tip before her eyes darted back to his face.

“Circumcised. No.” Angel replied, his voice husky. Her slightest touch made him feel like an adolescent, tense and lacking control.

She couldn’t control the giggle that escaped her lips. “Good thing Dr. Walsh didn’t actually ask for visual confirmation…”

He returned her smile, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw when her fingers closed around him and tentatively began to stroke up and down. She marveled at the velvety softness, the silky smoothness that covered such an incredible hardness. She licked her lips, wondering if she dared to taste him.

Taking a deep breath, Angel closed his hand over hers and guided her movements. Buffy followed his lead eagerly, leaning what he liked and how to touch him. Catching his rhythm, she moved her hand with firm, eager strokes until the explosive pleasure broke, and he gritted his teeth and came with a groan.

With his eyes closed, Angel relaxed back on the couch. Buffy retrieved her t-shirt, and wiped up the white sticky mess on his stomach with a few quick swipes. She then cuddled next to him, closing her eyes.

He simply held her for awhile, until much later, when he finally rose, adjusted his clothing and carried her to his bed. Curled together, it was the best night of sleep either of them had had in months.

***

Buffy clicked off the phone and returned it to the cradle with a resounding snap. She walked distractedly to the center of the room, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug.

Just a few seconds ago, she had been humming happily as she changed clothes, pleased to have an evening to spend alone with Angel. They both agreed that a night at home would be a welcome change to their busy schedules; take out and a rented movie was on the agenda, and Angel had gone out to pick up both. And, she hoped, they might have a repeat – or more – of last night.

When the phone rang she had thought it would be Angel calling to tell her that ‘The Two Towers’ had already been rented and ask her for alternatives. He was so thoughtful and considerate that way that it never failed to make her feel special.  

She had never imagined that it would be someone named Kate. A Kate claiming to be returning Angel’s call after he had asked for her number when they met recently in the UC Sunnydale library.

Buffy sank down on the couch. Despite the heat, she trembled. Had he really? Was he seeking out other women because they hadn’t had sex yet? It wasn’t like she didn’t want to or wasn’t ready... He was the one that had been delaying… Was she doing something wrong?

She was tense and slightly angry when Angel finally opened the door.

“Got it!” He said almost triumphantly, a smile on his handsome face. He held up the DVD case in one hand. “Though I had to wrestle a couple of Hobbit wannabe’s for it since it was the last one they had.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy snapped resentfully, “Who’s Kate and why did you ask for her number?”   

PART FIVE

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