The Great Spork Debate
or Why Angel and Buffy Are No Longer Allowed to Research
Summary: How useful is a spork? About as useful as Buffy and Angel researching in the library.
Author’s Notes: Written for bytheriver05 in the Old School BtVS/AtS Ficathon.
“I mean, I know what a spork is but why did someone feel the need to invent it? What, a regular spoon wasn’t good enough?”
Angel stared at his girlfriend, once again amazed at how quickly her mind moved from subject to subject. Or for that matter, came up with the most bizarre non-sequiturs. It didn’t matter what they were doing, Buffy’s rapid-fire subject changes always surprised him. She was a never-ending mystery.
They had been discussing the latest demon, the Da’jimahn, on the attack in Sunnydale. Well, discussion might be too broad of a term for what they were doing. Making out in the stacks was probably more appropriate. At least this time they hadn’t been interrupted by Giles, an event that still caused Angel to blush—or would have if he blushed---whenever he thought of it. Buffy, however, laughed off his embarrassment whenever he mentioned it, stating that even stuffy Giles had been known to kiss every once in a while.
“Is there any particular reason why you’re asking? Should I be offended that you’re so bored with me that you’re left to think of mundane topics such as why sporks were invented?” Angel teased as he brushed a loose tendril of hair behind Buffy’s ear. The baby soft silkiness of her skin, the hot flush of her cheeks that signaled her arousal, called to him and Buffy knew it. She watched his eyes darken as he slid his fingers down her cheek.
“What? O-oh no, I was just thinking . . . oooh, that feels nice, Angel. . . I was remembering at lunch today I had to use a spork and I thought how useless they were, and that’s kinda how . . . awww, why’d you stop. . . how we are right now,” Buffy breathed, her last words nearly sounding like a whine as Angel dropped his hand from her face. “We’re not actually getting a lot of research done here, you know. Not that I’m complaining, you know I’m not exactly Research Gal, bu—“
She was interrupted by Angel’s lips on hers and all thoughts of what they should be doing, or how Giles, Willow and Xander were mere yards away, busily researching the newest Big Bad terrorizing Sunnydale, flew from her mind. Who cared about researching in old, musty books that hadn’t seen the light of day for decades when one had her very own smoochable vampire? Buffy wasn’t about to turn down Angel kisses, research be damned. Besides, Willow loved research, especially when it involved her showing off her computer skills.
“So you’re saying we’re useless like a spork?” Angel pulled back slightly, a small smile—his Buffy smile, Buffy thought—playing on his lips.
“Huh? Oh yeah, we kinda are but I think a happy Slayer is more productive so really, we’re probably doing more good this way. Research makes me all cranky and a cranky Slayer is never a good thing.” She leaned forward, wanting his lips on hers right now, but Angel leaned back even more.
“That so? Well, I can’t argue with that logic. I wouldn’t want to be accused of keeping the Slayer off her game.”
“Angel,” she whined, her impatience at waiting for his kiss edging out her desire to continue to flirt and tease with her boyfriend. Flirting was highly overrated, in her opinion, especially when you had moved past the flirting stage and into the kissing stage long ago. He liked to do this sometimes—tease her, flirt with her, when all she wanted to do was kiss. She practically begged him at times, and sometimes had to get all Slayer Buffy on him, which only seemed to encourage him more. He liked that she was so strong, when most boys thought it merely meant she was a freak. It simply made Buffy love him more—not that she was about to tell Angel that. She was brave, but she wasn’t that brave. Not yet.
So entrenched in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize that Angel’s fingers were barely skimming around the open collar of her shirt. His touch was so feather-light it felt like a gentle breeze on a warm summer night. Her head lolled to the side, unconsciously baring her neck for more of his caresses as her skin tingled in the wake of his touch, the blood pounding in her ears drowning out her soft whimpers. Maybe she was a little too hasty in only wanting to kiss.
“Does this mean I’m more useful than a spork,” Angel whispered against her neck, his tongue darting out for a taste of her sweat-slick skin.
“Hmmm, that depends.” The puzzlement on Angel’s face nearly made her laugh but the sound quickly died in her throat as his fingers hit an especially sensitive spot on her collarbone. Who knew her collarbone could make her so hot?
“Depends on what?” He grinned at her and Buffy’s heart soared at the oft-unseen sight. A full-blown Angel smile was very rare, a seemingly mystical event like the ones she read about in Giles’ old books, and the fact that she was the one to cause it had her grinning in return.
“Well,” she drawled, “it depends on how else you used those hands, mister.” She was almost shocked at her words, but lately she had been feeling the need to push the boundaries with Angel. She wasn’t ready for. . you know, but sometimes she wanted to move beyond simple kissing. Not that kissing Angel wasn’t a near perfect experience in its own right, but she felt that ache low in her belly, the ache that told her she wanted more, whatever that more meant.
However, that more wasn’t probably supposed to happen in the library of her high school, her two best friends and her Watcher just on the other side of the stacks. With great reluctance she moved to push Angel away but somehow—and she’d swear later she didn’t mean to—she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer. His lips descended on hers once again and Buffy lost herself in his kiss.
Which is how Giles found them—yet again--a few moments later. Angel cursed under his breath, Buffy laughed, Giles stammered and fled to his office.
It was a long time before they were asked to once more help with research.
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