DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not yet, but still…
TIMELINE: Eh, throw it anywhere where Buffy and Angel will be happy and together.
SPOILERS: None.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy and Angel are tired.
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere you want it.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This actually is a part of a really long series that I wrote a few years ago. Basically, Angel's soul is permanent, he and Buffy are together, they go back and forth between LA and Sunnydale, and everything is fluffful. The series will be posted eventually, after some heavy editing and perhaps a little closure, lol.
FEEDBACK: Sure!
RATING: PG. It is fun, I promise. A little stupid, but I'm still proud. :O)

"But still," he said lethargically. She sighed in agreement, nodding as much as she could manage.

"And yet," she replied. They rested quietly against a massive tombstone that marked the grave of seven members of the Rosa family. It was really very pretty, tall and sparkly in the almost full moonlight. The top was chiseled into an open book, on which the first lines of some prayer were inscribed. The base grew step by step into the actual grave marker, and with Angel's coat against them, made for decently comfortable lounging… for a cemetery, anyway.

Sunnydale, sweet Sunnydale.

Dust from no-longer-undead vampires was taking its time sifting to the ground, periodically being stirred back into action by a breeze. It was always the same. The damn stuff never gave it a rest. Across the manicured grass, deep green in the darkness, congealing ooze of various origins lay like oil slicks. The winds that stirred the dust also carried a slight residue that tingled when it touched your skin. But that dissipated much faster then anything Buffy had seen, as far as residues went.

The pair had been fighting. Not each other, of course, just the usual forces of darkness. They were both really tired out. Buffy had been on Angel's schedule of late, late, late nights and sleepy days. The slayer had off for a few days and spent them in LA. Then Angel, who had actually been compensating for her sleep patterns, had come home with her. Neither slept terribly well, having better things to do with their `together' time.

And being drained and fighting drained left them… well, drained.

"That was…

"Tingly?" Buffy supplied, tilting her head to crack her neck. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye for a long moment, and then nodded.

"Yeah." He shifted slightly, hunkering down to lay his head on her chest. He rested quietly there, making a low humming noise in his throat, quite akin to purring.

"Still ticking?" Buffy asked softly.

"Yep."

"My neck hurts," she mumbled, still trying to work out the kinks with a rolling motion. Angel sat up begrudgingly, and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Here, lie flat." With a quick, gentle motion, he pulled her away from the headstone and draped her flat across the ground.

"Is my hair in monster gunk?" she asked worriedly.

"No," he said, flopping exhaustedly down next to her. He didn't say anymore, just snuggled down into the grassy coolness, giving not a mind to the dew beginning to condense on the ground.

"I don't remember being this tired… ever," Buffy told him, gently dropping a hand on his forehead and brushing the forelocks that the gel had lost control over back from his eyes… not that they reached. He purred again, making a slight effort to nuzzle her palm, also not quite reaching.

"We should probably get going. It's late," Angel mumbled.

"Not a good idea to sleep under the stars, huh?" she joked. "Not if you're this tired, at least." Buffy sighed and tensed her muscles in an attempt to get up. "Okay, as soon as I can get these old legs of mine working."

"I'll help," he suggested, but found it very difficult himself to get to his feet. He did manage, eventually, and then helped Buffy stager to her feet. "Lets go," Angel said, slinging her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders. They stumbled out of the cemetery, hurrying to avoid meeting any new foes on the way. About half way to the apartment, they sat down on a sidewalk bench outside the coffee shop, which was entirely vacant of people and closed up tighter than a drum.

"Maybe," Buffy suggested, "Maybe we should call a cab."

"No," Angel disagreed, patting her hand where it rested on his thigh. "Its not worth it, Buffy. Takes too long to get here, and there's no chance of hailing one. Now if we were in LA we could get a cab."

"Shush up," she admonished. "We should really hurry, though." He nodded, and after a prolonged period of slouching against uncomfortable wooden slats (and each other) they got on their way once again.

Back at the apartment building, which they eventually reached, the elevator was thankfully working and they rode it to their penthouse. Angel unlocked their door, and waved Buffy ahead of him. She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze, thinking about how much she appreciated his weird, chivalrous, little habits. She leaned against the wall and waited for him to shut and lock the door. He hooked his arm around her waist and started to tow her towards the bedroom.

"Ummm," she fairly hummed. "Wait, Angel."

"What?" he asked, stopping.

"Let's sleep out here."

"Excuse me?"

"Just, go get some blankets," Buffy instructed. "I'll move the furniture." At his confused look, she spun him around and pushed him towards the linen closet. "Go." He shrugged, then dragged his very tired self to get the blankets. Buffy looked at her living room and frowned. It takes a lot of work for an exhausted slayer to move furniture. She did it anyway, and had the couch, chairs, and tables all moved out of the way in no time. Angel came back with arms and arms full of blankets, and he tossed them onto the floor.

"We're camping out?"

"Slumber party," Buffy explained. "Go make sure the curtains are closed, Okay?"

"Yeah," he said, going to the windows. Buffy went into the bedroom, grabbed a few candles and sleep clothes, and then returned.

"Here," she said, tossing him his things. She put the candles down. "Light these, please." He obliged, and then shut off the other lights. The room was lapped in candlelight that made Buffy smile when she came back from the kitchen, her arms laden with cookies, a carton of ice cream, and a few bags of O-.

"You're one strange girl, slayer," Angel commented, as he helped her set up a veritable snack bar on the displaced coffee table. Buffy shrugged, and threw down the towels to make a pile of comfortable lounging material.

"Not so strange, vampire. Now," she announced, dropping down into the nest of comforters, "We lounge." Angel followed suit and dropped beside her. "Hand me the ice cream?" He did, and got himself something to drink. They vegged, they kissed, and then they slept.

They were, after all, very tired.

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