Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and whole lot of other folks own BTVS and A:TS stuff. I'm a lowly po' college student.
Spoiler: The end of S5 of BTVS and S2 of AtS
Couples: Angel/other
Feedback: It's lovely stuff, really. Truly I enjoy it as much as it enjoys you
Dedication: So, so many people that each chapter has its own dedication. All told this was nearly two years of my life.
Author's Note: If you would like to read this series in chronological order please read Beginnings, chapters one, two and three; Finder; (Night Festival technically goes here but it is not necessary to read it, besides it's really long); Act of Devotion; Defiance; Becoming X; Gemini and lastly Epilogue which is not an epilogue but a story in its own right.
Part: 1
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Angel."
The young man turned in his sleep.
"Angel, love, wake up."
His brown eyes opened to those of his wife's nearly black ones.
"Get me a pint of Chunky Monkey, please." Her smile flashed in the dark of their bedroom, from the dark of her skin.
Turning over, Angel slid out of their bed. Soundlessly he pulled on the black jeans that lay across the back of a chair.
"And a ham and cheese sandwich with mayonnaise and mustard." She paused thoughtfully, "I think that's all."
Angel was on autopilot. Her comments were heard with half an ear. Microfiber black coat on, Angel was out of their room and apartment before his wife could make another "request" of him.
The store owner knew him well. "What's she having tonight?" he asked in a friendly manner.
Angel repeated the orders. While the owner retrieved the items, he glanced at the LCD display above the counter: 4:30 a.m. Four thirty, better than last time when she wanted. . .
"Here ya go." Angel inhaled sharply. Four thirty-six a.m. "Sorry it took so long. Bots're slow this time of night." He nodded mutely and turned on his heel to leave. "See you next time" the owner called out to Angel's back. He waved, too tired to speak.
"Mmm, I'm going to have to work this off tomorrow," his wife said, relishing the banana ice cream with dark chocolate and walnuts. The couple sat at their small kitchen table. The sandwich was gone and the Chunky Monkey was well on its way. Or not. "Enough," she said, pushing the half-empty carton away.
Mutely Angel picked it up, removed the spoon, replaced the top and put the ice cream away. Before he could close the freezer, Angel felt his wife's small hands on his shoulders. "You didn't have to stay up with me, love." She planted a small kiss on his shoulder blade then pulled him toward their room.
Sitting him on their bed, she bent down and pulled off his shoes. Ordinarily he would protest her act of devotion but tonight he was too exhausted. Shoes off -- he'd foregone socks -- his wife stood and tugged at his shirt. It slid up and off his arms and over his head easily. She pushed him back on the bed and unbuttoned his jeans. Angel had forgotten to zip them. Sliding them down his legs she couldn't resist a kiss on his knee.
He'd started drowsing when she pushed him back on the pillows. The kiss startled him but Angel was asleep again in moments. He didn't feel his wife pull the sapphire blue coverlet over his near-naked body. He didn't feel her climb in beside him or place her ear over the comforting sound of his heart.
Angel awoke to a lonely, though still warm, bed. Swinging his legs off the bed he hissed having stepped onto the zippers of his jeans. Gingerly he placed his feet on the thick crimson carpet. Absently, Angel placed his hand over his stomach to quell its growling. Suddenly his nose was assualted by the smell of cooking food. Some kind of ham was being fried and he could detect the sound of popping toast; Angel's stomach growled louder.
"Hey."
Angel's small wife jumped, surprised by her husbands embrace.
"Kiss the cook?" he said.
Eyes widening, she slapped her hands over her mouth and said, "Morning breath."
"I don't mind," he answered, turning her to face him.
"Not me, silly," she said, pushing against his chest. "You!"
Sitting at the table they ate in comfortable silence. Standing she asked if Angel wanted seconds. "No, that's all right, Christina. I'll get it." He began to rise.
"No," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did enough for me last night." She ruffled his hair passing him on the way to the sink.
Angel look up into the smiling eyes of his wife as she slid her arms around his neck and down his chest. She turned so that her chin rested on his shoulder. "Hey, lover."
Angel answered with a kiss. It was sweet and languid, almost sleepy. A nip on his ear, Christina wanted something more.
"Hey, Christi" Angel felt her stiffen. "I'm sorry," he said, standing and hugging her.
Christina frowned into his chest. Pushing at his chest she reassured him it was all right. "It was a minor gaff."
"I should have known better, I-"
"Hey, stop with Mr. Guilty? You've been human what, four years now?" she said playfully hitting him.
"It's just that whole thing with the alternate universe . . . the alternate universe and the alternate me. . ."
"And the alternate me."
"Yeah, she was hangin' on by a thread."
Christina's eyes went blank for a moment. "He was going to push her over the edge once he'd gained our world. She'd been so strong for so long, but the body switching and...and..."
"Tina," Angel used her familial pet name -- one he rarely used himself -- shaking her.
Taking a deep breath she looked up and smiled. "Got lost in Remember Land.
"Hey, guess what," Christina said, breaking the moment.
"What?" He understood her need.
"Guess whose head was on my stomach when I woke up this morning?"
Angel blushed.
Christina laughed. "I don't know why you find that so embarrassing, imazadi," beloved. "You've only been doing that since I got home from the hospital."
"It's just. . .I mean. . .I don't know." He released his hold on her and ran a hand through his hair. The humiliation Angel put up with for his wife.
Christina kissed his chin. "I like waking up with you warm on my belly." She lapped at his chin. "Mmm, Angel-taste. Were you this lish when you were first human?"
"Lish?"
"Mmm-hmm." She licked him again. "Delicious."
He watched Angel leave the apartment. Apparently, they owned the warehouse, renting it out to businesses while living on the top two floors. The girl was still upstairs, wouldn't be out till later if she kept to her schedule.
He tossed the smoldering cigarette butt to the ground and crossed the street. How nice of them to provide an interface screen. He loved modern security. " 'Ello?"
The screen flickered on. Childish features he remembered from their last "encounter" stared back at him. "Hi, can I help you," her high, musical voice asked.
"I'm lookin' for," he pretended to look down at a paper, "Leslie Wollof?"
She smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, wrong addy."
"Thanks, luv."
"Wait, what did you call me just now?"
"Me, nothing. Just sayin' thanks."
Christina turned off the interface and leaned back against the wall. Something about that man was familiar. He'd called her luv. The only Englishmen she knew were Watchers and he. . .definitely gave off non-Watcher vibes. More like someone should be watching him. She wondered if her Slayer-sense could go off across a screen.
She'd talk to Angel about it when she came home from patrol. Since Hermoine's death, Mayja simply hadn't been up to it. Feeling partly responsible -- and a strange shift in the activities of evil from Sunnydale to LA -- Christina had taken over her duties.
"So, how was patrol tonight?"
Christina shrugged, "Strange as usual. It was so much easier tracking down the icktified in a small town. LA needs five Slayers," she said flopping into an armchair.
Chuckling, Angel pulled her into his arms. "I'm sure you did a wonderful job."
They continued to talk about their respective day, and night, together. The English visitor was forgotten.