Honeymoon in Vegas

Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Author: Ducks, theantijoss
Rating: G
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Summary: Buffy and Angel are... duh... honeymooning in Vegas, and Buffy has a special gift for her new hubby.
Warning(s): Massive, overbearing, tooth-rotting schmoop.
Disclaimer: Somehow, no one has managed to take them away from Whedon yet, despite his continued abuse.
Prompts: for schmoop_bingo: "honeymoon"
Word Count: ~935
Thanks to ljgould for the beta! And especially for pointing out that Danny Gans passed away -- although, as you said, that doesn't necessarily mean anything in the Jossverse! LOL

Honeymoon in Vegas
By Ducks

~

"Guess who else I met here?"

"Elvis."

"How did you know?"

"You told me already. You said you met Buggy Malone--"

"Bugsy."

"Whatever. The mob guy. You said you met the Brat Pack, which, I have to say sounds really cool. I always wanted to meet like, Rob Lowe and Molly Ringwald."

"It was the Rat Pack. Sammy Davis, Jr., Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, Joey Bishop. They had Angie Dickenson with them that time, too."

"Oh! Her I know! She was Police Woman, right?"

"Right."

"I saw her on TVLand a couple of times. Giles has this thing. Nevermind. Anyway. So you mentioned you met them, and then you mentioned you met Elvis and Priscilla. Which story you thought would score you points when you were trying to get me to marry you in the Little White Crapple or whatever," Buffy said, shooting him a glare.

"Well, I let you change my mind, didn't I?" Angel said, picking up her left and kissing the new set of rings on her finger. Their wedding had been staged instead in a beautiful night-blooming garden at a charming B&B in Sedona, Arizona.

She smiled brightly and snuggled against him. "Yes, hence the Vegas honeymoon. I thought it was only fair that you get a little of your way, since it's your marriage too."

"I would be just as happy in the desert on the edge of Sunnydale Canyon with you, Buffy, you know that."

"I know." She kissed him softly. "But this is part of my wedding present. That would be more like... reliving stuff better left buried under five million tons of rubble."

"Touché. So... where are we going?"

"Well, Mr. Name-Dropper..."

"Hey! I don't have a lot of good memories during those years. I like to cling to the few that are at least entertaining. If... maybe a little drunken."

"ANYway, as I was saying, you have a nice collection of Vegas names, but there's one show I don't think you've seen here yet."

He perked up. "Ooh. Blue Man Group?"

"No."

"Criss Angel?"

"No."

"Cher?"

"Angel, even if you guess, I'm not going to tell you. We're almost there anyway. In fact, close your eyes. I don't want you to see the sign until we get out of the cab."

He did as she bid him, but still grinned in anticipation. Truthfully, he loved everything about Vegas, and any show she picked for them would be great, but he bet she had chosen something he would really like. Even if she had to confer with Spike to get ideas.

A notion which he really, really hated, but... what could he do? He and Buffy were friends, Angel promised not to get on her case about it, the end. Hopefully at least Spike would have enough common courtesy not to suggest any shows with tigers in them. After the whole Siegfried and Roy incident, Angel just wasn't comfortable with wild animal acts anymore. And it would be just like Spike to suggest one just out of spite, or to amuse himself -- any anyone else who would listen -- with the story later.

The cab finally came to a halt, but the lights and noise were indistinguishable from the lights and noise anywhere else in the city, so he couldn't get any hints there. He was tempted to peek, but... okay, so he was whipped and followed Buffy's directions exactly. Besides, surprising him made her so happy, how could he deny her?

She helped him out of the cab, a hand under his elbow to guide him. It was probably a funny gesture to see if someone didn't know she was stronger than he was.

"Okay, I'm going to put something in your hand, and when I count to three, I want you to open your eyes and look up, then look at the thing in your hand. Got it?" Buffy said.

"Got it." He was half tempted to do a little anticipatory jig. But he'd gotten most of those out of his system in the hotel over the past couple of days as he gradually saw the trousseau Buffy had brought with them and modeled like a sexy runway show. She placed what felt like a large credit card hung on a string in his hand.

"One... two... three."

He opened his eyes, and found towering above them a 50 foot picture of The Man himself, smiling his well-lacquered smile in that nicely-preserved and heavily tanned face.

Angel looked down at the item in his hand. Barry Manilow. And not just tickets, but All Access VIP passes.

"We can watch from back stage, or we can watch from the balcony and THEN go back stage and meet--gurk!"

He grabbed her in a crushing bear hug and spun her around until people were starting to stare, then gently set her down again. "Buffy, this is... wow, I can't even... I can't believe it! But... what happened to the Eternal, Complete and Absolute Ban on Easy Listening Music?"

Her smile was one of those warm and gentle ones that turned his old, dead heart to mush. "I love you, Angel. This is a one-time easement on the ban that terminates when we get back home. You can have the whole honeymoon for that twisted perversion you call music. Classical too."

He gave her the biggest smile she thought she'd ever seen on him. "That's really generous of you. Thank you for this, Buffy."

She got up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Happy Wedding, Angel. And one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"I don't even mind if you sing," she whispered in his ear.

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