DISCLAIMER: I am disclaiming. There, happy? I'm not.
TIMELINE: Anytime after season three, it doesn't matter so much.
SPOILERS: No spoilers.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy and Angel's quiet evening.
DISTRIBUTION: Go on, but let me know where please.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is basically a cup-o'-fluff. It serves no purpose other than niceness. Enjoy.
FEEDBACK: Sure! :O)
RATING: PG, possibly just G. Have fun!

Buffy hung up her coat and yawned. It hadn't been the worst day she'd ever had- that would have to be pretty damn bad- but it wasn't the best. While nothing had gone exactly wrong, she still couldn't bring herself to face another night of patrol.

Instead, she rang up Gretchen (Slayer number three) and asked her to cover her ground. She didn't even need to make up an excuse. Gretchy (as Buffy affectionately referred to her) understood her need for a night off better than almost anyone.

Buffy settled into her recliner and channel surfed comfortably for an hour or so. The door opened again to reveal Angel. Buffy smiled and waved a little. He hung up his jacket and stretched before flopping onto the couch tiredly.

Absorbed in the made-for-TV-movie she was watching, Buffy reached for his hand blindly, patting his cool skin affectionately. Angel caught her fingers and squeezed, then sat back to see what was on the TV.

Together, they watched the programs in comfortable silence until late evening.

"Want to go to bed?" Buffy asked after their mantel clock struck eleven.

"We're not going out?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the big- haired diva on the screen (they were watching the VH1 special, Diva's: Live).

"Oh. No," she looked at him. "I called Gretchen. I took the night off." She paused for a moment to watch several big haired divas posturing. "Did you want to go patrol?" He looked at her and laughed.

"No. Bed, then?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Sure." Buffy got up and started shutting off some of the lights. Together they brought the atmosphere of nighttime to the apartment, leaving only the hall window open for air and the tiny, dim lamp on the kitchen counter on for light.

Buffy pulled the bedcovers down and plumped Angel's pillows (because she knew he liked them that way). While she was doing that, Angel was getting her socks out of the drier so her feet would be warm (because he knew she liked that). Once they were both dressed for bed, and all the little things were taken care of, the pair laid down next to one another.

Angel rolled over and kissed Buffy sweetly on the cheek as they gathered up the comforter. He snuggled down into the soft mattress with his back to her and closed his eyes. She tossed a little and found a comfortable place with her stomach against his back and her nose close to Angel's hair. Buffy breathed deeply of Angel's cologne- angel-smell, and she smiled through her yawn.

"You know what?" Buffy asked.

"What?"

"I've decided that I do like Gretchy's watcher."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, the woman's no Giles."

"That's a good thing… for her… I think," he chuckled. Buffy poked him in the ribs and he stifled his laughter.

"But she's pleasant, and she knows not to give me grief about us."

Angel growled softly in response, and she knew he was falling asleep. "And she knows what's best for Gretchen." Buffy frowned slightly. "She's so young, Angel."

"So were you," he pointed out.

"But- She's so, so young Angel. She's not even Dawn's age."

"If I remember correctly, neither were you." Buffy gnawed her lip in thought and didn't speak. Angel grabbed her hand and kept it against his stomach, her slim, muscled arm around him, and the slayer pressed close. "But I had you guys."

"She has us, too," he argued.

"But she can be so headstrong. She doesn't listen to reason half the time, and can't bring herself to accept experience…"

"Do I have to even dignify that with a response?" Angel drawled. Buffy pouted, leaned closer, and nipped his ear.

"How do you like that?" Buffy asked grumpily. Possibly to annoy her, more than likely because he meant it, Angel purred deep in his chest. She huffed and turned her back on him. The Slayer, though annoyed, didn't draw away when he moved closer so they lay back to back.

"She'll be fine," he assured her, throwing an arm clumsily over her hip.

"How was your day?" she asked, closing her eyes finally.

"Monsters," he said, and she could hear the smile in Angel's voice.

"That's nice." Buffy yawned. "Good night, Angel."

"I love being so mundane," he said before she could drift off.

"How so?" she questioned, resting her hands over his on her stomach.

"Talking about nothing to you. As we go to sleep together. In our apartment. On a Tuesday." Buffy rolled over and raised herself up on one elbow.

"Angel?"

"Yeah?" he answered, sitting up a little. Buffy carefully laid a hand on his cheek and kissed him slowly. Her lips hummed, but that might have been Angel's chest rumbling in contentment. She pulled away and looked at him with a tiny smile, observing the goofy, sleepy- eyed grin on his face.

"Its too late for deep thoughts, vamp," she insisted, stroking his face tenderly. "Why don't we say I love you, and leave it at that?" she whispered. Angel nodded, and touched his lips to hers.

"I love you, Buffy."

"I love you, Angel. Goodnight." Buffy turned back to her side of the bed, knowing he was looking at her. His hand came to briefly rest on her hair. Then he turned onto his stomach and got comfortable with his face smushed into his plumped pillow. Under the blankets, Buffy entwined her legs innocently with Angel's, her drier- warmed socks brushing his calves.

"Goodnight, Buffy."

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