Rating: pg 13
Willow/Angel friendship, mention of the B/A tension
Disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS
Distribution: Bite Me, please?, WillAngel, WWW, WLS, NHA, Soulmates others please ask
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~Part: 5~
Halloween had been... quite different from what he'd expected. For decades, he'd known that Halloween was a quiet time, supernaturally speaking. Things didn't really happen very often, vampires and demons tended not to cause trouble, and it generally allowed the mortal people to have a good time. A vampire could stay inside, relax, and have a nice night in with the family, having family bondage...err, bonding time.
That hadn't been what had happened.
Some foolish and impulsive wizard that Giles knew, Ethan cloud or rain or something like that, had cast a spell, making deliberate use of the fact that everyone would be in costumes. He'd managed to make a large portion of the population become their costumes, become real soldiers or demons or robots. Xander had become a soldier, showing an astonishing sudden talent for shooting things and for proper military form. He had still grated on his nerves and made his teeth itch. Buffy... she'd looked lovely in the pampered dainty manner of the noblewomen of his era, a lovely example of someone whose whole life was devoted to being pretty and attracting a powerful husband. She hadn't been the Slayer, she'd been a helpless, terrified lady. She'd been breath-takingly beautiful and incredibly frustratingly helpless at the same time. He'd been reminded of his mortal days, when he'd been expected to marry an heiress and manage everything but the social entertaining. He shuddered at the memory, for once glad that he'd been turned into a vampire.
Then there was Willow. She'd left him stunned breathless in an entirely different way. He had no idea what to call that little outfit, with a tight short black skirt, and a little wrap around shirt that showed cleavage and a nicely toned stomach. She had looked amazingly tempting, and the way she'd had her hair pulled up, a few tendrils falling to brush the sides of her neck... he'd never expected Willow to look so delicious. And she'd been a ghost, entirely untouchable in the most literal fashion.
No doubt she'd wanted Xander to notice her. He remembered his own words to her 'they're to distracted by little black skirts and shirts showing cleavage.' That little black skirt and cleavage showing shirt had certainly made him notice. Willow wasn't just pretty, she was stunning. He also had no doubt that the one idiot she'd most wanted to impress hadn't noticed. Clearly, Harris was entirely blind, and without hope for the future.
If he'd had such a lovely and intelligent lass after him in his mortal days... but nobody that smart would have wanted a drunken skirt chasing lout. There had been a reason that the good girls had avoided him, after all.
He shook his head, trying to banish the image of long pale legs, of firm breasts accented by russet fabric, of green eyes made smokey and mysterious. Willow wasn't.. she wasn't some exotic temptress, come to bring him intensely passionate ideas and dreams. Surely, if she ever found out about the dream he'd had of her after seeing her in that outfit... well, he doubted her reaction would be friendly.
Glancing up, the first thing he noticed was a pair of jewel green eyes, looking over the room from the shadows. Willow had arrived early, sitting in the corner where she could watch the room. He gave a wholly unneeded sigh of relief when he saw that she was in more normal clothing, a light blue sweater that only exposed her neck. Such a slender, pretty neck it was, and her pulse would be so easy to find... With a small wince, he made a mental note to be sure to feed BEFORE coffee with Willow in the future.
Angel got them both cups of hot coffee before going to the table, sliding one cup over to her as he settled into the chair. "Evening. How did your Halloween go?" No, why did I bring that up? I'm trying to pretend I didn't see... no remembering long pale legs, mounds of smooth breasts...
She smiled faintly, her eyes momentarily darkening with some emotion, a frown tugging at her lips as she pulled the cup of coffee over, sipping at it before speaking. "It didn't go like I'd thought it would. Most of the people I've run into are repressing the whole thing... and a lot of the people who got their costumes at Ethan's really don't seem to be able to remember. But I do. I remember everything..."
She looked almost sad, as if there had been something he'd missed to ruin things for her. Had it been Xander, the soldier he'd become that had snapped at Lady Buffy, and ogled Cordelia in her cat-print costume? "Why?"
"I wanted him to notice me. But all he could see before was Buffy, in the fancy gown and the corset... did the women then really wear those things? Is that why they had such tiny waists? Then he was so busy staring at Cordelia... I think the only person who actually noticed was Giles, and I think he disapproved most strongly, and was to British to say anything." She was slowly stirring a package of sugar into the coffee, measuring the grains out as if it were some precise experiment.
The words came out before he could stop them. "I noticed. You looked... delicious."
She was staring at him, her mouth open in surprise. Literally speechless, she closed her mouth and made a few hand gestures, accidentally spilling sugar over the table in her startlement.
"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said..." Looking into the murky depths of his coffee, Angel hoped that he hadn't just ruined the one friendship he had. He most definitly didn't want Willow afraid that he was going to eat her for dinner one night. "I meant... you looked good. Very good... I didn't know you had such long legs."
"Angel, it's okay. I mean, it's not like I took that to mean I'm on the menu, but that's a compliment, right? I mean... umm... sort of like the wolf in those old Warner Brothers cartoons doing the tongue rolling eye popping thing, right?" She was blushing, but looking right at me.
For a moment, all I could do was stare at her. She didn't take it as being on the menu? If it weren't for the soul... She had no idea how close she had been to being on the menu. Although, I had no idea what this wolf she was mentioning was. "Wolf? I think... I missed those cartoons. But yes, it was a compliment. You looked amazing that night, although you look a bit more... comfortable now."
She smiled, her eyes like laughing stars. "Well, the skirt was a bit tight, and those heels were evil. You'll have to come over sometime, I'll show you those cartoons."
Invite me, and I'd follow you anywhere, Red. Knowing you, it would be an interesting and entirely unexpected trip that wouldn't go at all according to my expectations. "So... you watch cartoons? How old are you again?" I tried for a bit of teasing, wanting to lighten the sudden feeling of tension, part of me wondering if the tension was all in my own imagination.
"Silly, not all cartoons are for little kids. The older Warner Brothers and Looney Tunes were just full of all sorts of things aimed at adults. Political jokes, literary references... all sorts of interesting stuff."
He felt relieved that he hadn't damaged the friendship they'd been building. She didn't seem to realize that to a vampire, saying that someone looked delicious was far more than a mere compliment, it was quite firmly in the range of flirting. He wasn't quite certain why he was flirting with Willow, she had her crush on Xander, and he loved Buffy. But if she didn't even realize that he was flirting a little, what harm had it done? As long as she didn't find out about that dream... merciful God, please don't let her find out about that dream. He had the feeling that it would be a long time before he saw Willow quite the same as he had before. But as long as she never learned... things would stay the same, or as close as they could on the Hellmouth.
"I'll have to watch them then. But, Willow? Promise me, please... try to be careful. I wouldn't eat you, but... there are others who might try. I don't want anything bad to happen to you." He tried to keep his mind from the vivid images that his Freudian slip had conjured. He had to stop thinking about that dream, about Willow in that little skirt!