Buffy Anne Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
proactive_with_pep) wrote2018-08-19 10:13 am
proactive_with_pep) wrote2018-08-19 10:13 am
TFLN + GEN TEXTS + MEME OVERFLOW
She can slay many a thing but captcha is not one of them. Leave your baggage here.
She can slay many a thing but captcha is not one of them. Leave your baggage here.
no subject
Angel winces. "She... She brought up the fact that... you're still young, and..." he really feels like he's throwing Joyce under the bus if he tells Buffy what was said, and he knows Joyce had good intentions. But looking back now, he recognizes that it was misguided, in more ways than one. Finally, he just sighs. "She didn't mean for it to play on my mind like it did, but after the mayor..."
"What I mean is, I think we—" he shakes his head; he's done deciding what's best for Buffy, even in hindsight. He does think it was best, in the long run, for them to be apart for a while, but he's not going to speak for her anymore. "Buffy. When I first saw you, the day you were called — if you'd seen me, you would've avoided me at least, and possibly called the cops on the creepy homeless guy.
"I will never regret meeting you. Or falling in love with you. But I've never... had a chance to be a good person, on my own, away from you, to prove that I could. I've never had friends at all until being with you, but it wasn't until I moved to LA that I had any friends that weren't yours first. At least, I'm assuming you don't wanna claim Cordelia or Wes as friends?"
He frowns a little, looking down at his hands in thought. "I needed to leave, to get perspective on us, and to learn how to be someone on my own. To know that I could be a good man, even if it wasn't for you. It's because of you, but it's not for you, anymore."
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Just when she thinks she's figured out where this is going, he does a complete 180, surprising her. The lump in her throat is painful as she tries to swallow it down, listening to him. Her first instinct is to tell him she would have never avoided him; that while she might not have known he was who she was always meant to be with, her heart did.
Loosening her grip on the blanket, thankful she hadn't torn it because what an explanation that would've been to Willow, she feels the corners of her mouth curving into a small smile. "To be fair, Wes was never a friend." She reasons. He was...tolerated company at best. Should she feel bad for thinking that way? Maybe. But she doesn't. It is what it is. "Cordelia, though? I guess you can have her. Only because I'm pretty sure Anya would have my head if I said Cordelia was one of us still." She's not joking. "Tell her I was reluctant in letting you claim her as a friend and I will make your life miserable. I'm talking glitter bombs and spamming your phone with chain texts."
Pushing up from the bed, she takes the chance while he's looking at his hands to gingerly cross the few steps over to her own bed, settling beside him. And although she wants to take his hand in hers, she keeps them folded in her lap, but her eyes on him. "I'd ask how that's working out for you..." Learning to be him on his own, "But I can see it. Even just an hour with you and I can see the space... it's been good for you." The same as it's been for her. And because she's always known he was a good man. She's glad he can see it now, too. "The other part, though. The us part, what about..." She leaves the question hanging in the air, afraid of asking and setting herself up for the let down.
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Reaching up, Angel rubs at his forehead uncomfortably. He's not going to lie to her, though, and frankly he should've told her about it when it happened. Really, he should have discussed all this with her. But where Joyce had said Buffy had dealt with so much and had to grow up fast, even Joyce forgot that she was still just a girl sometimes - it was all Angel could ever think about. He loved her, and he wanted to protect her from the harsh realities of the world, which most definitely included himself, and he always tended to forget that Buffy already dealt with the harshness, every night. Her age, at this point, mattered about as much as his; where he was still making stupid decisions 250 years in, she was making the hard decisions after barely 18. He'd been right when he told Joyce they were from completely separate worlds; the difference was, Buffy's world was better, in large part because she made better choices than he did.
"Remember that night before Prom, we'd gotten back late and you fell asleep at the mansion? It was that next morning, she stopped by." He can't help the short, mirthless laugh when she questions what gave him the right to talk about her life behind her back, tipping his head back and scrubbing his hands over his face. "Arrogance," he says bleakly, still with a humorless smile playing faintly on his lips. "Not the first time my arrogance has damned me, probably won't be the last."
At her threats, he smiles wanly. "Deal." ...before his expression dips into mild confusion. "Even though I don't know what either of those are, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be on the receiving end."
He's going to tell her about the Day That Wasn't. But that is going to wait until after her exams. It will throw everything off and upset her too much, and not knowing isn't going to change anything, for the next week. "Doyle had a thing for Cordy, did I tell you that?" he asks quietly, looking at his hands again. "He didn't want to say anything, because she wasn't shy about her opinion that all demons are evil and 'gross'. Ken being such a nice guy and still trying to eat Doyle's brain didn't really help her opinion, and Doyle had his own issues with his demon side, so he just--didn't say anything. She found out─ on the last mission we had, where─." He takes a moment to breathe shakily, trying to center himself and get his emotions in check. "And I can't help but think... What if he'd told her? What's the worst that could've happened? She took a few weeks to be mad at him, before giving him a chance? Awkwardness around the office? I wish that's what happened, instead of the red eyes and kleenexes and sad looks when she thinks I can't see her. She went looking for Doyle's coffee mug, but he didn't have one, not a favorite one he always used, and she─ shouldn't he have one? Some tangible proof that he'd been there, something she could see..."
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face again, before tilting his head to look at her sideways. "I love you. And I don't want something to happen, to either of us, and have the other regret... I don't know what us looks like, anymore. But I want... I want us back, whatever shape that is. We've done all, and we've done nothing, and I wanna see if we can strike a balance between the two."