proactive_with_pep | TFLN + GEN TEXTS + MEME OVERFLOW

It usually happens a lot faster than I'd be able to consult you if you're in class, or sleeping.

[ there's a long pause between his first text, and the next. ]

Call me when you can. Not between classes. When you have more time than that.

u know what
that's fair

( the next message has her wanting to skip class and call him right now. but she can't. not when it's exams week. )

of course
when i get back to the dorms i'll call you
❤️

( it's not until a few hours later that, as promised, she calls him the second she's stepping into the dorm room. luckily Willow's out with Oz, leaving her to have what's sure to be a serious and emotional conversation in private with him. )

Hey. ( she greets him softly once the line connects. ) I'm sorry for not calling sooner. This was the earliest I could get back. Professor Walsh kept me.

[ when his phone rings, he knows it's her before checking the ID. there's a brief moment, between one ring and the next, that he thinks about not answering, even though he told her to call, and he knows it'll piss her off if he doesn't.

it takes until the third ring has sounded before he presses the button to answer, holding the phone by his ear. ]

It's fine. [ his voice is hushed, subdued. ]

Do you... remember my friend Doyle? I think you only met him once, briefly, when... after Thanksgiving, when you came down. He...

He was the one who had visions. He passed them on to Cordelia.

[ he can't bring himself to say why, or what happened after. ]

( she knows that tone. it's his bad news delivery tone. only this time it's not to bring her bad news, but to tell her about his own. )

Thanksgiving... ( she remembers and keeps the, when I confronted you for skulking in the shadows? yeah, I remember, to herself. ) The guy with the dark hair and the accent, right? ( it dawns on her now that she isn't sure how many friends he actually has in LA. and if she had, she'd know now, it's one less.

she can read between the lines; knows what he's saying without actually saying it. )

Angel... ( her voice is quiet, ) I'm so sorry.

Are you ─ no, that's a dumb question. You lost a friend, of course you aren't okay. ( she mentally smacks herself for that one. she knows what it's like to lose a friend. the toll it takes. the pain. the numbness. ) What can I do to help? Even if it's just to come and see you, let me help.

Yeah, that's him. ...Was.

[ Buffy is such a mix of naivete and insightfulness - both usually ill-timed - he's glad that she picks up on what he's deliberately not saying.

he can't help the bleak chuckle he gives at her suggestion of coming to see him. ] I think seeing you is the last thing I should do, right now. I'm not-- [ he takes a deep breath. ] I want nothing more than to see you. ...Nothing. Which is why it's not a good idea.

[ it would be like the First's torment of him all over again, wanting to lose himself in her, except this time he'd have no one to blame but himself. ]

( although she already knows why seeing her should be the last thing he does, before he says it, it still stings when said.

and she nearly agrees with him, too. except... oh except, she has an idea. )

What if you came here? Willow's always in and out of the dorm at all hours of the day and night because of school and Oz, so we wouldn't be alone for long. No time for bad and rash decisions to be made.

( unlike if she went to him and they had an entire hotel to themselves. )

But if that's still too much, I'm still here. On the phone that is. ( she just hates not being able to physically be there for him. )

[ this is the opposite of what he'd intended when he left Sunnydale. he wanted Buffy to have a normal life, not constantly pulling her back into his. but after... after her visit, and his day with her... he's beginning to realize that even if he were a normal human, Buffy never will be. no matter how long she lives - hopefully very long - she'll never be able to have a truly normal life, no matter how remarkable or mundane. will she resent him later, as she ages and he doesn't? he thought she'd start to resent him for not being able to give her a normal, healthy relationship. but now he can't help but wonder, what is normal? he's been alive long enough, and in LA long enough, to recognize that normal isn't for everybody, and people have to create their own normal. he's been trying so hard to be as non-vampiric as possible, he's swung around to ultra-conservative. Angelus is a disgusted presence in the back of his mind, and even Angel himself is chagrined at the realization.

none of that is the point, or the topic at hand, but it's something to think about. he can't leave LA, go back to Sunnydale with his tail between his legs and beg Buffy to take him back. but there are options for a relationship, even long-distance, that he needs to consider. and as she suggests he come down to see her, he knows it's not that far to travel if needed. they don't live on opposite sides of the planet from each other. ]

I don't... I don't wanna distract you, if you've got homework, [ he offers lamely, before wincing and rolling his eyes at himself. ] But if you think you can concentrate with me moping around... I'd like to come down.

( if he needs further proof her life will never, ever be normal, regardless if he's in it or not will be when she tells him about her first roommate. the demon from another dimension who tried sucking her soul out and was driving her out of her mind. literally.

the pause between her suggestion and his response is longer than she expects. sure, he doesn't shoot it down immediately, but that doesn't mean he's going to agree with it. he could be gathering all the other reasons why it's not only a bad idea, but the absolute worst.

but then, he accepts the invite and she smiles. and it's clear by her tone that she is. ) You won't be a distraction. Besides, I don't have much to do, anyway. Mostly it's studying, half of which is refreshing what I already learned in class. ( she assures, somehow able to hide her eagerness at seeing him again. )

I'll text you over the building number and the dorm room number so you know where to go once you get into town.

Okay. Okay, I guess... I'll see you then. I'll text when I get into town, let you know I'm almost there. [ there's only the faintest hesitation in his voice, but it's not reluctance. he finds that he's actually nervous, like back when he and Buffy knew they had feelings for each other, but both had vastly different ideas of how to go about it. courting versus dating. he knows better than to remind himself he's more than a grown man, and even reminding himself that this doesn't really mean anything, that he's already dated Buffy, she's not expecting anything... does absolutely nothing to quell his nerves.

for someone who stays up all night and sleeps during the day, it's still early for him, even if it's late for humans. he calls Cordelia, letting her know he'll be gone for the night, but to call if she has a vision. both of them hope she doesn't, and he manages to successfully evade her questions on where he's going - but is sure she'll give him the third degree as soon as she can corner him later.

he stops just outside of town, near the mansion, to pull up his texts and check the address numbers Buffy sent him, and to send his own text. ]

By the mansion now, be there in 10.

'Kay. See you soon.

( after hanging up she goes back to the recent calls and stares at the number there, making sure she didn't just dream the whole conversation up and he's actually, seriously, absolutely on his way here.

he's on his way.

Angel's on his way.

Angel.

is she inwardly freaking out? she is! and on the outside, too. pacing around, checking what she's wearing and what her hair looks like in the mirror, whether or not to text Willow and give her a heads up. but she's quick to remind herself this isn't a social visit. well it is but, not like that, anyway. he's lost a friend and she's providing company. support. friendly company support and that's it. because that's all he needs right now.

she lied, not intentionally, when she said he wouldn't be a distraction. even as she settles after thirty minutes of fretting and overthinking things, the pencil tapping against one of the opened text books spread across her bed, she's got her mind on him. every so often glancing at the phone to see if he texted and somehow she missed the alert.

of course the minute she dives into studying is when he texts. )

i'll be here :)

( where else would you be, dummy? ugh.

she goes back to concentrating on studying the best she can until he knocks. she's off the bed and across the short space from the bed to the door in a flash, hand on the knob. but she takes a second to breathe, to not let him hear the way her heart is pounding in her chest, before she slowly, very casually and calmly pulls open the door. and then proceeds to stand there. in the open space, smiling, dressed in a pair of leggings, an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder and hair, longer than it's been in years, up in a ponytail. )

Hi. ( she greets after a minute of staring at him like he's a ghost, and unsure if she should hug him or... no. no hugging. stepping aside she waves him in, wondering if, ) Do you need an invite? ... I've never had to test it before now.

[ once he's parked near her dormitory, he actually catches himself reaching for his hair, before rolling his eyes at himself. at this point the only thing stopping him from checking his appearance in the rearview mirror is the severe lack-of-reflection it would offer. he does tug on his jumper a little as he walks toward the building, getting any wrinkles out caused by the long drive.

he knows he's got the right room even if she hadn't told him, because her scent grows stronger, more noticeable through the miriad others permeating the hallway. and he can sense her, that rush up his spine and pooling in his stomach of power-danger-irresistible he always gets from her.

yeah, this is a really bad idea. he knocks anyway. as soon as the door opens, and he's confronted with her, Angel can't help but start to smile. it's still painful, seeing her and knowing what he gave up, but he's here, and she's here, and they aren't yelling or arguing, so it's good. ] Hi.

[ his brow furrows for second, glancing at the doorway itself. ] I'm...not actually sure. [ reaching his hand out, he meets resistance, and sighs a little. ] Yeah, I guess so.

( it's kind of a shocker she doesn't know if vamps need an invite. given everything else she's dealt with, including those army-esque demon hunters and a fear demon, seems like the vampire Slayer would have dealt with vampires trying to get into her room, or anyone else's, before any of the others. and Spike getting in doesn't count. Willow had invited him in without knowing who was on the other side of the door.

watching Angel hit the invisible barrier makes her smile wider. not because he can't get in, but all other vamps can't. a small comfort. )

That answers that, and oh! Oh! I get to tell Giles about my supernatural finding. ( proudly, and a little distracted. though without mentioning the finer details of how she knows. ) Bet he has no idea, 'cos he's never been in a dorm. At least I don't think he has? He was big on the dark magic and punk rock and right! You need an invite to come in, so, Angel, come inside. ( once she remembers she steps out of the way, against the door so he can get in. when he is, she checks the hallway out of habit before closing it. and only closing it. no locking of any kind is happening. an unlocked door will serve as a reminder Willow or someone else could walk in at any moment.

moving to the beds she gathers the books up, clearing a spot on hers for him to sit before claiming Willow's by dumping her stuff unceremoniously onto it. and then parking herself on it. )

So... how was the drive? I know it's late... early... late for everyone else, early for you, but traffic is a thing. Especially in LA. ( another habit; babbling. and one she's not too fond of when it's mostly awkward. )

[ he's used to Buffy getting distracted, and clearly she's excited to know something her Watcher doesn't, but the longer she goes without inviting him in, the more awkward Angel feels. eventually she gets there though, and Angel's shoulders slump a little in relief that he won't have to remind her.

he always feels so big when he's near Buffy, awkward and cumbersome, and it's no different now, as he tries to walk through the doorway, stay as far away from her as possible, while trying to make it look like he's not consciously avoiding touching her. once he's inside the room, he's not really sure what to do. it's clear which bed is Buffy's - even without the books, her scent is stronger, although he can smell Willow in the whole room, too; it's both irritating to his primal senses because it dilutes Buffy's scent, while also being comforting, because he likes Willow, no matter how she might currently feel about him.

hesitantly moving to the spot she cleared, Angel slowly sits down, and can't help how his body immediately relaxes. he sits, and watches her, and listens, and he can't get rid of the fond little smile even if he tried. so he doesn't. ]

It was fine. [ he's not--okay, he is laughing at her a little, but he appreciates that she's feeling just as awkward as he is; which ironically makes him feel less awkward. ] I had to let Cordelia know I was leaving the city, so I'm sure she's gonna give me the third degree when I get back, but--I just-- [ he sighed, glancing down. he reaches over and pulls her pillow over, plucking at the case and enjoying the plume of scent it releases every time. ] I think I just-- needed to get out, get away, for a while. It's not like I'm stuck in my apartment all the time, but... [ he glances at her ruefully from under his lashes. ] It's not like I'm going out for social calls or parties every night, either.

[ Doyle was good at getting him to go out, he thinks, a scowl slowly forming. Cordelia's brand of teasing him to go out is a little too mean-spirited half the time, and Wesley's so eager to stick around, he wouldn't dare say something to offend Angel. ]

( there used to be a time when she was confident around him. when she wasn't awkward ─ okay, when she was less awkward around him. months apart and suddenly being around him feels all new again. which isn't a bad thing, it's just... it's going to take some getting over, because she doesn't want to do new. no matter how much she knows they've headed separate ways and this Angel isn't the Angel she knew.

scratch that. he's absolutely the same Angel she's known.

watching him pick up her pillow, she wonders if he'd have gone for Mister Gordo if he was in arms reach. the memory of catching him after climbing through her window one night, cradling the small pink pig in those large arms brings a warm smile to her face. )

Are you going to tell her where you went? ( it's taken some time to process but, knowing Angel has Cordelia there, in LA with him, working alongside ─ for him, oddly enough reassures Buffy when she starts to worry about him. which happens often. knowing he has someone ─ a friend he can trust, and who isn't going to stab him in the back the first chance they get, is a comfort.

pulling her legs up and sitting criss-cross applesauce style on Willow's bed, Buffy's soft expression shifts; her smile teasing, as are her words. he looks like he could use some. in the good matured way. not at all mean. ) Not every night, but a few nights a week. Gotcha. ( she winks, but can't hold the small laugh back. she remembers him at the Bronze. the lurking from the shadows and never truly mingling with anyone but her. for the life of her she can't picture him schmoozing it up at parties, even LA ones. )

Are they at least better than the parties here? ( the ones where ancient demon pieces are assembled, or where a stupid mask rises the dead to crash your house and destroy all your furniture, or the newest one... ) Where frat guys host a Halloween party and accidentally summon a fear demon and bring out the worst fears of every guest in attendance? ( is that oddly specific? sure is. ) Not to make you jealous or anything. ( she knows she knows all the cool people, Angel. this isn't her rubbing it in his nose. ) College has been an...experience. To put it mildly. Did I tell you, Willow wasn't my first roommate? The first one was taken back to her dimension. ( see? she will never have a normal life. no matter how hard she tries for the experience, it just isn't in the cards for her. )

I-- [ he winces a little, wondering just how to word it. ] Yes, because otherwise she's going to hound me relentlessly, and she can be amazingly shrill when she tries. But also... [ he winces again, sneaking a look at Buffy. ] She's gonna give me hell when I tell her I came down here and spent the night with-- around you.

[ he gives a little self-deprecating shrug, a smile tugging at his lips to show he's making fun of himself: ] But not Friday or Saturday nights. Those are reserved for sitting in the dark and staring into the distance. I can't have people thinking I'm fun, or something.

The last party I went to... [ he frowns a little. ] Was actually... a bachelor party for Doyle's ex-wife. Which turned out her fiancee wanted to eat Doyle's brain, as part of a ritualistic sacrifice for a strong marriage, or... it was weird. People wonder why I prefer to stay at home.

[ he's sadly not surprised at her own specific party story, but shakes his head. ] Why does stuff keep happening to you on Halloween? I mean, even the whole costume thing wasn't Spike, he was just--along for the chaos ride. But Halloween's supposed to be quiet! [ he's oddly worked up about it and offended--or rather, Angelus is offended, and for once Angel agrees with his literal inner demon.

he can't even muster up the energy to look surprised when she mentions her first roommate, and being taken back to her own dimension. ] Demon? [ he asks casually. on the one hand, they're talking shop, but on the other hand, they're catching up on each other's lives, and 'shop-talk' isn't really something either of them can leave at the office when they clock out for the night. ]

Cordelia shrill? No way! ( she makes sure her dramatic gasp is over the top by covering her mouth with her hand and adding a wide eyed stare. all of which crumbles immediately when he nearly mentions spending the night with her. granted he's quick to catch his phrasing, he's not fast enough to leave her unaffected, though. it's minor and fleeting; the way her pulse quickens and color rushes to her cheeks at the very PG-13 imagery she gets of him and her together, on her bed, cuddling and nothing more after she's too exhausted to study anymore. it's enough that she has to look away from him, pretending to occupy herself with rearranging the books to the foot of the bed. very slick like.

once she's recovered, and the books are opened to their last read spots (courtesy of the way she folded the entire middle of each page needed), she glances back at him, amused. ) Oh no, you can't have that. Just imagine what all the demons and the forces of darkness would say if they knew you had a social life? Your brooding rep would be no more. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. ( she makes an X over her heart. finishing it off with making a show of sealing her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder. )

Is it weird that I think the, well, the weirdest part of the whole thing is not the brain eating ritual, but Doyle having been invited to his ex-wife's fiance's bachelor party? ( she's just putting Angel and her in those shoes. friends or not, and despite her knowing she won't have a fiance, she can't imagine inviting Angel to anything to do with a new beau. )

Hey, don't ask me, I'm just as clueless as the rest of you why Halloween never stays quiet. If I knew how to fix it, I would. I get one night off a year and it never goes as planned. ( it's true. she has no idea why Halloween ends up being exactly what it shouldn't be. ) At least I'm there to make sure it doesn't get any worse? ( she shrugs, trying to see the bright side of Halloween going to Hell in a hand basket for her. )

Yeah. Big ole demon. Although not big in the... ( she makes a tall gesture with her hands. ) ...big sense. But she was powerful and old. She was stealing pieces of my soul each night, causing me to go a little crazy. ( to put it mildly. ) I knew she was evil from the beginning, but did anyone listen to me? Nope. But I had all the evidence right there. I mean the girl labeled all of her eggs with her name, ironed her jeans and she made me log phone calls.

Sad part is, still not the weirdest thing to happen to me in college thus far. ( she admits, tone serious. while all the weird has been oddly comforting, it's the one normal experience she wishes she didn't have. and that is one thing she will never tell him about. ever. )

[ his raised eyebrows and tilted head conveys 'oh, you'd be surprised' amazingly well. ] I mean, I knew she could scream. When she found those--body parts in the dumpster behind the school? I thought I'd never be able to hear again. But that's when she's not trying to do it on purpose. Sometimes I think she has an extra set of lungs, she just keeps going. [ it's surprisingly nice to be able to talk - okay, gossip - about Cordy with someone who doesn't just know her as the aspiring starlet, but has about the same history with her as Angel does. sure it was fun to...to tell Doyle different tales about knowing her in Sunnydale, but most of that was just getting to enjoy Doyle's reactions to said stories. even Wesley hadn't known her for as long as Angel has, which feels weird.

he'd know she caught his slip just from the way her heart starts beating faster, even if she hadn't started fidgeting and trying very hard to look casual as she determinedly doesn't look at him. great. good job. he stays silent, pretending not to notice, only reacting once she promises not to reveal his non-brooding secret, smiling fondly at her. (he can't help it, he doesn't just love Buffy, he likes her; there's definitely a difference, and he's glad he still enjoys just being around her.)

it's not that it doesn't hurt to talk about Doyle, but he finds it surprisingly cathartic to share some of his memories of the man with her. ] Oh, there was a lot of weird about the whole thing. First of all, we didn't even know he was married. I mean, still married, Harry showed up to ask him to sign the divorce papers. And then Ken - the fiancee - comes in and we learn that he is the fiancee. And he was so... weirdly chipper and friendly. [ his tone indicates that he found it at least mildly creepy. ] Harry and Doyle... didn't exactly part the best of friends, but they'd been best friends, and meeting Ken, it kinda made sense that he'd want to get to know Doyle, as someone Harry was still fond of, even if their marriage hadn't worked. So, it was weird, but not as weird as you'd expect.

Actually, thinking about it, the ritual sacrifice was about the least weird thing about it all. The whole family was very Leave it to Beaver but, demons. [ ...God he hopes she knows that reference.

Angel picks at, and then forces himself to stop picking at the pillowcase, focusing on it so he doesn't say the first thing he thinks, which is you shouldn't have to deal with Halloween on top of everything else. who else will? he hates that Buffy can't even have one night off. ]

In my experience, losing your soul'll do that to you.

[ it pops out of his mouth before he can register it; he's too used to talking to Cordelia, Doyle and now Wesley, being casual and making jokes about serious subjects to give them less weight. but with Buffy especially, he can't just joke about losing his soul and not have a thousand awful memories and associations pop up, for both of them.

wrapping his arms under the pillow, Angel folds down and buries his head in it on his lap, pressing the pillow firmly against his face, wishing he actually needed to breathe so he had the chance of suffocating himself. ]

Edited (clarification) 2022-05-10 03:44 (UTC)

I've had her scream right in my ear. ( not right in her ear, but close enough. and in a confined space. Slayer hearing plus Cordelia's ability to screech like a banshee did not make for happy eardrums. ) You've been there when she's gone off on a tangent, right? Of course she has an extra set of lungs. Pretty sure that's her super power. ( or it was before the visions. which Buffy wants to ask about, but doesn't out of concern the conversation will take a sharp left and veer far away from the light tone it has now. )

I'm sorry, Doyle's ex-wife was named Harry? ( she takes it back. that might be the weirdest thing about all this. unless Harry was short for Harriet, in which case, never mind. ) Are you guys sure Ken wasn't trying to butter up Doyle to get on his good side to get his...brains. ( there's no hiding the way her face scrunches up at saying that. it's gross to think about, let alone say! at least vampires only drank blood. that she could deal with. guts and every other organ made her own stomach turn.

she gets the reference, thanks to her mother. but she really can't resist pretending she has no clue what he's talking about, shooting him a perfectly executed look of confusion. ) What was left to beavers? ( and her face stays the part, until he makes a joke.

a joke she doesn't laugh at. and she can tell it's a joke. but it doesn't land the way he might have expected it to. or how he knows it would have landed with Wesley or Cordy. it leaves her in shock, because it's a little too dark. cuts a little too deep and she freezes momentarily, going pale with her gaze fixed on him. watching him she realizes he seems horrified by it, noting his joke missed the mark by burying his face in the pillow. and, as someone who's been a teenage girl (still a teenage girl just not like that) with a flair for the dramatics, she knows what he's doing. )

I can tell you really have been going to LA parties. You picked up their dark humor. ( she's smiling now, though. reassuring him that it's all right. he made a blunder. it's allowed. reaching for Willow's pillow people, Buffy lightly sails it across the small space to bump Angel precisely where she aimed it; across the top of his bowed head. ) That's my favorite pillow. If you squeeze the feathers out of it we're gonna have words. ( she warns. shifting onto her stomach, lower legs bent up and behind her in the air, Buffy draws the books closer to her, watching him from a side glance. ) And I don't wanna have words since words are distracting and I seriously need to study these words... ( she tap the open text book with the eraser of her pencil. ) ...or I'm going to fail. And I cannot fail. Otherwise Professor Walsh is going to chew me up and spit me out just to grind me into an even sadder pulp before making me take the test again.

Angel groans into the pillow, leaning until he's flopped lengthwise on her bed (but consciously keeps his feet over the side, since he's still wearing his shoes), all the while keeping the pillow pressed to his face. "I shouldn't be allowed to speak, nothing good ever comes from it," he says, his words muffled through the pillow, but still pitched just loud enough she should be able to make them out.

She doesn't seem... too horrified, though, so Angel cautiously lifts the corner of the pillow to peek at her. "No, this is part of my regular sense of humor. It's just the tasteless part, so I try not to show it."

He watches her settle in to study, slowly shifting the pillow around until it's under his head instead of over it. Toeing off his shoes, he shifts until he's laying on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow and the other tucked against his chest and hand tucked under his chin.

There's something peaceful about... just watching her. Which has always been worrying to him, since happy, content, and bliss all have slightly different connotations, and contentment is something he always feels around her, especially in the quiet moments like this. Sometimes he thinks the only thing keeping his soul where it is, is knowing that he could lose it at any second. It's a dangerous way to live, and another reason he felt he had to leave her.

She doesn't mean to laugh at him, but it's kinda hard not to when he's being dramatic about putting his foot in his mouth and being extra adorable at the same time. Which is different than him being cute. He's always cute. This is a side of him not many people get to see but she does. "Welcome to my life. Having your brain to mouth filter falter is just how it goes sometimes. You'll live." That's considered being supportive, right?

Okay, now that ─ the way he peeks out timidly from under the protection of a pink and purple and frilly pillow ─ would really have the forces of evil questioning Angel's big, bad brooding skills. "Your humor isn't bad per se. It caught me off guard is all. Hey, but now I know to be prepared for some tasteless humor bombs." She assures, turning back to the task at hand; project do-not-fail-and-give-Walsh-more-ammo-to-call-you-out-in-class-with.

She manages, too, for a solid forty minutes before she starts to fidget; the pencil taps along the pages, drags through her lips, is bitten on, used to doodle on the upper corners of the pages because they're her textbooks, not the schools. The first signs of Buffy's boredom kicking into gear. Followed by a groan that hides a yawn. "Okay, I think my brain is at capacity for psychology stuff." She announces, snapping the books shut and rolling onto her back. "I crammed in as much as I could, hopefully it'll be enough to pass tomorrow. If not then, I'm sure I can get a job with Xander delivering pizzas. Not the best fate since I'd look awful in the hat they make him wear." Turning on her side to mirror his position, she watches him a minute before whispering, "I forget how quiet you can be." It's true. For more than half of her studying she'd forgotten he was there. The low, comforting hum in her veins the only reminder at times he was near. "Also, how are you not bored watching me be bored out of my skull studying?"

It's a testament to how much he's grown, or opened up at least, just in the last 6 months; he's always felt more comfortable with Buffy than around others, but now he finds it easier to just talk with her; as well as move on when he says something awkward or, as she put it, without his brain-to-mouth filter engaging first.

This is what it's like, he thinks, watching her, if they could be friends. Never just friends, but they'd never been friends in the first place. It feels a little like doing things in reverse, but he's alright with that.

Watching her concentrate, the expressions she makes, sometimes even slightly mouthing through words and sentences without registering it, is soothing, and he doesn't realize he's fallen into an almost meditative state, his reflexive breathing slowing down until it actually stops for a while. That is, until she starts moving; shifting her legs and swinging them in the air behind her, tapping her pencil - watching her stick the pencil in her mouth and eventually bite it has him pressing his lips together and praying for strength.

"I'm sure you'll do fine. You're smart. They say after about an hour you stop retaining new information anyway." He's not sure where he heard that, but he's sure he has, somewhere.

His mouth is open before his brain-to-mouth filter does engage this time, and he stops himself from simply replying I love you. He's not sure she'd understand it as an answer to his not being bored around her, anyway. "I like watching you." He makes a face. "Okay, that came out creepier than I meant it. You do this-- you're expressive, when you're concentrating on something." Finally he just shrugs - since this isn't getting any better - and reiterates, "I like watching you," hoping she hears the I love you laced in there... but also almost hoping she doesn't.

Looking at him, she's reminded of what she told Willow years ago, "when he's around, it's like all the lights dim everywhere else." Words that hold true even now, in the open space of her dorm, after months apart and a breakup that (at the time) felt like it would destroy her.

"I need to do better than fine if I want to impress professor Walsh." Which isn't something she thought she'd ever say. About anyone. But there's something about the older woman that makes Buffy want to do better, to apply herself and live up to the standards Walsh sets for her students inside the classroom. "She's intense and smart and intimidating and I'm pretty positive she's the smartest person I know." Which, given everyone she knows, is saying a lot.

Scooting "dangerously" close to the edge of the bed and using her elbow for support, Buffy props her cheek on an open palm to watch and listen closer. The answer she's expecting is somewhere along the lines of, "What else am I gonna do?" What he says instead is so much better and not as creepy as he thinks it comes across as. But also, "Sweet." She insists, wholeheartedly, then adding, “And a little bit creepy.” For good measure. It’s her turn to make a face. Then immediately stop herself from continuing to make it, because he has her self-conscious about her expressions now or the ones she doesn’t mean to make. She wants to ask, “How often do I express myself?” Only she finds herself speechless and caught off guard once again.

She hears the I love you as clearly as if he screamed it. It’s not just in his words, that don’t actually say it but imply it, but it’s in his look, too. For a second she forgets where they are and who they are and, more importantly ─ who they aren’t to each other, and her mouth opens to say it right back ─ those actual three words, and she has to forcefully snap her mouth shut. Thankfully avoiding sending them right into disaster lane. Instead she says, “I like watching you, too.” Because she then remembers. “And texting you.” Reminding him, too.

It's at least the third time she's mentioned Professor Walsh specifically, and to go on and call her the smartest person she knows, means this woman must have done something to earn Buffy's admiration. Buffy's not exactly known for looking up to authority figures most of the time.

He means to ask her about the professor, but gets sidetracked. He knows Buffy hears the subtext in his words, from her reaction. And he's pretty sure she means the same thing when she says I like watching you, too.

It's bittersweet, and almost a physical ache in his chest, because he knows - he knows the only thing really keeping them apart, is his curse, and himself. He has the memories of an entire day with her to prove it. The reminder from her about texting isn't exactly needed, but...

Angel starts to frown, not upset, but in a thoughtful way. "I like texting. Keeping in touch. I think...." Finally he just sighs. "There's some things we need to talk about, and I need to tell you. It can wait, I don't want - your classes are important, I don't wanna distract you from your tests. And yeah," he grimace a little, "I know saying something like that is gonna make you not able to concentrate anyway. I'm just saying... What I have to say, it'll keep. It's not gonna change if I wait a week or two to say it."

Not just that he was an idiot, and he wants to try something between all and nothing. Even just these past months, while they've been hard, he can see that they both needed the time apart. But also... he needs to tell her why he wants to try again, what got him to change his mind.

I love you, too. Is exactly what she means when she tells him she likes watching him right back. She's never stopped liking watching him. She never will either.

Some people might say there's something almost as terrifying as a but followed a pause, and that's an, I think. Or some form of it like, I've been thinking. But for Buffy, it's that; I think we need to talk. It's exactly how he started the conversation, the very one sided conversation since he had already made up his mind about leaving. Adding a, "but not now and not here." Almost the same as the it can wait, he tells her, now.

Her heart sinks instantly. And though this might not be the sewers, it's still only them and a conversation (bad or good, she isn't sure) looming over her head. Slowly she sits up, trying to brace herself for the inevitable bad news that's going to follow. Except, oh that's right! He's going to keep it for a week! That has her bolting up, off the bed and turning to pace. Her mind is reeling, and not with anything good because she's trying to push away the memories of the last time they talked.

"You're damn right I'm not going to be able to concentrate! Not now and not tomorrow when I'm taking the test." She snaps, whirling around with Slayer speed and grace to face him. "God, what the hell, Angel? You can't do this. You can't just drop a bomb on me and expect me to hold it and not worry if it's going to blow my whole world up..." She manages to keep from saying, again! "Or if it's a dud and I worried myself for nothing." She explains, failing to keep her voice even. "So while it might not change for you if you hold onto it for another week, it's going to mess my week up. And I have enough crap on my plate, so you might as well tell me now." She demands, folding her arms over her chest and staring down at him, determined.

He sits up more slowly after she stands, watching as she paces around, all but yelling at him. OK, his choice of words was very poor. He waits for a break in her anger.

"I love you," he says evenly, staring up at her. He refuses to stand up, adding his size to the conversation and turning it into a confrontation. "There's more, but it's--well, it is important, but the main thing is, I love you. And I know you know that. I was wrong, in a lot of ways, when I broke up with you. I still..." Now he looks down at his hands, unable to watch her as he says the next. "I still think I made the right choice, leaving. Not just for you, but for me, too. But I let the mayor and your mother's visit rattle me, and I could've handled everything a lot better than I did."

TFLN + GEN TEXTS + MEME OVERFLOW

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format change, bc I do what I want

:P

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