TITLE:  Driving.  See Coffee.

AUTHOR:  Yseult (yseultdb@yahoo.com)

RATING:  R (for language and that would be pushing it)

TIMELINE:  Future

PAIRING:  Absolutely B/A (in spite of Joss)

DISCLAIMER:  Still don’t own DorkAngel and Buffy the Guidance Counselor

SUMMARY:  Buffy takes a drive to see Angel (and I swear I couldn’t come up with a lamer summary.  Just read the thing.)

AUTHOR’S NOTES:  Offered in the true spirit of fluff.  That and I’m supposed to be working on a paper that’s due in 3 days.

FEEDBACK:  Always appreciated.  Might even get that shower scene for Siuil A Ruin done quicker.  Send it to yseultdb@yahoo.com 

It was barely dawn.  Buffy had been driving for 40 minutes.  This was her favourite part of the day.  The world was mostly still.  Few humans were awake; fewer vampires were out.  She rolled down the window so she could hear the birds singing and smell the morning.  Ahead, the sky turned several hues of blue, pink, and orange as the sun rose.  Buffy flipped through several radio stations as she drove.  She could care less about construction delays and lane closures.  She eventually settled on a station that was playing alternative rock.

Buffy loved driving.  She had failed her drivers’ test so many times it had become a standing joke.  When she finally passed it, Xander’s gift had been to increase his insurance coverage in case of an accident with Buffy the Driving Slayer.  She had been driving for five years, now, and she hadn’t even received a parking ticket.  Willow, on the other hand, had several outstanding speeding tickets, which didn’t make any sense to Buffy.  Her best friend was so cautious in every other part of her life.

Buffy could make this drive in her sleep.  One night, she almost had.  That had become another standing joke as soon as the gang heard about it from Angel.  Buffy had been awake for 39 hours straight battling the latest evildoer.  The wanna-be Hellraiser (literally) had taken forever (it seemed) to die.  It was long past midnight when Buffy had dragged her exhausted body back to the house.  She had quickly showered while Willow made two thermoses of stomach tar.  When the redhead walked into the living room with the coffee, she found a sleeping Buffy leaning against a wall.  Willow woke her friend and gently suggested that she skip this week’s trip.  Buffy had promptly downed two cups of coffee from one of the thermoses, plastered her best look-I’m-awake face on, and waved as she drove off.

She still didn’t remember anything about that drive.  Except the part where she had pulled up to the Hyperion and a furious Angel had hoisted her out of the car with one hand.  She had never seen him so angry.  (Willow had called him as soon as Buffy left.)  He started with “Are you completely out of your fucking mind?” and quickly proceeded to “What the hell were you thinking?”  In between he stopped at “Do you have shit for brains?” and “What the fuck is wrong with you?”.  By the time he reached “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not a damn cat!”, he had relaxed his game face and lowered her to the sidewalk.

That’s when she started what came to be known as The Buffy Dance.  In an effort to stay awake during the drive, she had apparently consumed all of the coffee left in the thermoses.  That was something like 12 cups of coffee between Sunnydale and LA, and Buffy hadn’t stopped for gas or anything.  It had taken Angel a couple of minutes to realize that something was wrong with her.  At first, he thought she had some terrible injury from her earlier battle.  He didn’t clue in until Buffy repeatedly jumped from one foot to the other, crossed her legs, and squeezed her thigh muscles together to temporarily relieve the pressure in her bladder.

 She had looked incredibly pathetic standing there on the sidewalk.  Her hair wasn’t styled, and her clothes were wrinkled from the drive.  She had dark circles under her eyes, and the tiredness just showed on her face.  It was the leg crossing that finally sent Angel over the edge and into hysteria.  By the time he could speak without laughing, Buffy had already entered the hotel in search of a bathroom.

 He found her in his room.  She had shed her clothes in a pile at the side of the bed and put on one of his silk shirts.  She was lying seductively on the king-size bed.  When Angel suggested that she “just sleep”, Buffy pouted at him and batted her eyes.  She then artfully pointed out that all that coffee made her jumpy.  Angel let her undress him and climbed into bed with her.  Buffy snuggled up next to him and laid her head on his chest.  She was just starting to get comfortable when she suddenly sat up and ran to the bathroom.  She spent the next couple of hours going back and forth to the bathroom as the 12 cups of liquid exited her body.  It turned out to be one of her more interesting visits to Angel.

 This time when she pulled up to the Hyperion, her vampire lover was standing just inside its front doors.  She sat in the car and watched him pace.  For someone who had been around for over 250 years, he had absolutely no patience when it came to Buffy.  She loved that she could make him behave like a nervous teenager on a first date.  Buffy entered the hotel and placed the empty thermos of decaf coffee on the counter.  Then she walked into Angel’s open arms and lost herself in his kiss. 

End