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This part had been modified from its original version and has been edited for content. If you would like to read the original NC-17 version you can go here.
"We need to do this more often," Buffy announced.
"See each other?" Angel growled, his annoyance at the fact that they didn't do so enough clear in his voice. Buffy sighed in agreement and shifted her weight from one tired hand to the other, wincing as pins and needles shot through her wrist. The whole pregnant thing was really starting to suck. The first trimester hadn't been that bad, aside from the morning sickness and the constant fatigue, but she was well into her second now and beginning to realize exactly what eating for three wasn't doing for her figure. Her fingers looked like fat sausages attached to puffy slabs of red, bloated skin, her eyes were constantly bloodshot, her hair was exceedingly uncooperative when she tried to do so much as put it in a simple ponytail, she was either hungry or had to pee -- usually both at once, and she sweated enough to put the entire N.B.A. to shame.
But then all Angel had to do was what he was doing at the moment, rub oil along the ridge of her exposed abdomen, already swollen with the twins (the TWINS!), and she could deal with the bloating and the sweat and the constant hunger because this was real, because they were doing what every couple should get the chance to do. They were raising a family. Building a life together. That made everything just a little bit more bearable.
"See each other alone," she clarified. "Y'know, *alone*, without the company of others. We don't get to see each other enough as it is, and when those rare occurrences do actually happen -- and I do mean rare, you do realize that we've averted more apocalypses than spent weekends alone, right? -- we're usually surrounded by either your friends or mine, or, worse, my mother," Buffy said, watching him work intently. Preventing stretch marks was so much more fun when he was around.
"It's not my fault you had to move back home," he shrugged, not lifting his gaze from his task. Gliding his slippery hand back and forth over her taut skin, he smoothed liberal amounts of the oil in small circular motions, knowing that he'd put on more than enough and yet not being able to stop touching her.
"You're the one who got me pregnant," Buffy returned lightly.
Angel smirked. "Okay, so maybe I had a little something to do with it."
"There's nothing little about it, buddy," she said, sitting up as best she could and capturing his hand as it made its rounds for what could very well have been the hundredth time. "Look at me. I'm huge and we just passed the five month mark."
"You're going to get even bigger," Angel said softly, extracting himself from her grasp and placing his hand, palm down, back on her large belly. She looked much farther along than she actually was, her tiny body stretched tight to accommodate the two extra people living inside of her.
"Which is also your fault. If you weren't so damn big maybe I wouldn't look like a beached whale in my fifth month."
"I can honestly say that no one's ever complained about that before," he said with a leer, garnering a gasp of shock from her at the implication of his remark.
She quickly recovered and smirked at him. "Well...being big *does* have its...advantages."
"So now I'm an advantage?" Angel tried to sound hurt, knew that he'd failed miserably.
"No, you've just got your...fringe benefits," Buffy giggled, hiking her t-shirt up and tucking it between the bulge of her stomach and her heavy breasts, urging him to continue the tummy massage. Happy to oblige, Angel reached for more oil, greasing up his hands and shifting closer to her, settling back into the mattress as he resumed.
"Fringe benefits, huh? Is that a good thing?"
Buffy smirked, her eyes falling shut as his talented fingers quickly worked their magic on her tight skin. "If a girl likes massages, breakfast in bed, and sponsored shopping sprees, yeah. Definitely a good."
"Glad I can be of some service to the lady," he said.
"I saw Xander the other day," Buffy told him.
Angel, being used to her constant subject changes, barely blinked. "Did he try anything?" he joked.
"If saying 'hi' counts, then yeah. He tried lots." She sighed, reaching up to brush a piece of sticky blonde hair from her equally sticky forehead.
"And how do you feel about that?" Angel asked. He was learning, at least. Feelings were important -- especially when they were backed by Slayer-sized hormones. It was important to ask about them. And asking of course led to sharing his as well, something that he still hadn't quite gotten the hang of. When one barely spoke to anyone for decades, one tended to have some problems communicating. He was trying, but it was a slow process. Or, rather, he wanted it to be slow, but being around both Buffy and Cordelia wasn't all that conducive to the snail's pace he would have preferred. Not that he minded -- he got to be around Buffy, and sharing with her was surprisingly easy compared with how hard it was to open up to Cordelia. She tried, really...but she was pretty intimidating. Especially when she tried to force information out of him.
"Do we really have to shrink me tonight, Doc?" she complained, heaving a sigh. Despite her griping, she went on. "I felt...weird. I mean, he was one of my best friends and I've barely spoken to him in months. There was a lot less speaking and a lot more awkward silence than there used to be."
"Can't say I'm all that upset about that," Angel said. He barely suppressed a growl at the thought of the boy who'd dared to touch *his* woman -- okay, so he was a little possessive sometimes.
"It was just..."
He offered up her previous answer. "Weird?"
"A few counties over from weird, I guess. Even weirder than when I wrote the first letter to Faith," Buffy said. "And, really, that's saying something."
Angel nodded thoughtfully, his hands never stilling as he caressed her, feeling the strong heartbeats radiating from her womb beneath his palms. "I remember," he said softly. A few weeks after they'd managed to salvage their relationship from the near-disaster it had weathered, Buffy had sat down and, after tossing aside dozens of balled-up pieces of paper, written Faith a letter. A few days after that, Faith wrote back. Angel had made it a point to visit the girl weekly, but Buffy was still at the letters stage. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to see her again and not revert to the crazed bitch she'd been that day at the hospital.
"Yeah." Buffy squirmed. "I didn't like it."
"The letter?"
“Seeing Xander again, like that," she clarified. "I mean, Wills has been doing the secret agent spy thing and keeps me in the know about all things Xander, but it's not the same. I don't know if it ever will be."
"But you want it to be," Angel observed, dipping one finger into her belly button briefly.
Buffy smiled at him in that adoring way that made him melt. "You ever think of giving up the detective thing and becoming a shrink?"
"Nah," he drawled. "I like my work the way I like my women."
"Small, blonde, enormously fat?"
"Dangerous," Angel chuckled, ducking forward to press a kiss to her lips.
"The only dangerous thing about me is that I could probably crush you," Buffy replied, pulling him closer. "And, okay, I am pretty handy with pointy pieces of wood."
Angel smirked, silencing her with a kiss. She sighed against his mouth, bringing her hand up to gently cup his cheek as the vampire wrapped his arms around his pregnant Slayer, effectively holding her upright as the kiss deepened and the familiar stirrings of frustrated lust burned inside of him. Their little interlude in the shower those two months before had been the closest they'd gotten, the time since then being spent getting to know -- *really* know -- one another, leaving little time to tempt fate. Living in different cities helped, but it did nothing to quell their mutual desire, which had blossomed to unbearable proportions as they'd grown closer.
Buffy finally (reluctantly) came to her senses when she realized that she was flat on her back and Angel was looming over her, his fingers skimming underneath her rolled up t-shirt. Angel groaned, realizing the compromising position they were in, and he sighed, burying his head in her shoulder, fighting for his control again.
"Well, now I know how a teenage boy feels," Buffy grumbled as she inched her way up to the head of the bed, urging Angel to move with her. He sat up, groping behind him for the abandoned bottle of oil and doing everything in his power to *not* notice how tempting she looked splayed against his soft sheets.
"I hope that feeling comes from frustration and not some freakish Hellmouth condition that's filled you with testosterone," Angel said, making sure the bottle was shut tightly before leaning over Buffy to place it on the night table.
She sat up, reaching behind herself to fluff up the pillows, not wanting to get a backache while leaning against Angel's unyieldingly hard headboard. "There's no room inside me for any more hormones," she complained, stretching her hand out to him. After a moment's hesitation, Angel moved over to sit beside her, slipping his arm around her shoulders easily. Said hormones seemed to want closeness, and she was more than happy to use them as an excuse (not that she needed one) to cuddle up to her favorite vampire.
Letting out a content sigh, Buffy snuggled into Angel's side. Her slight movement caused his casually draped arm to enfold her more securely in his embrace, her rounded belly an easy reach away, his fingers millimeters away from her exposed skin. Without thinking, her hand crept from her stomach to his thigh, her silver nails drawing small circles on his cool flesh as she turned her face into his neck.
"I love you," she whispered against the column of his throat, pressing a soft kiss on the delicate skin for good measure. Angel whimpered almost inaudibly, clutching her to him while wishing he could push her away long enough to get himself under control once more. Though their touches was innocent and loving, he felt like they were skirting on the edge of disaster. She was so close...so vulnerable...so soft...there wasn't anything he wouldn't give for just one moment of feeling her warmth surrounding him.
"The feeling is definitely mutual," Angel murmured, dipping his head to kiss her hair before smoothing the rumpled strands out with his cheek.
Buffy lifted her face up to his expectantly, a gesture for which she was rewarded with several soft, loving kisses. Their lips met gently, noses bumping as they exchanged a series of tiny pecks that sent a warm rush through their systems. Angel's fingers grazed the very top of her exposed abdomen, heightening the sensations that were spreading through her body like lava...a slow, certain awareness of each and every nerve in her body that came alive at his gentle touch.
When they finally parted, they resumed their previous position easily, Buffy's head tucking itself neatly in the curve of Angel's neck...the space that seemed to have been made specifically for her...while he buried his cheek into her golden tresses once more, inhaling the vanilla of her shampoo as his fingers continued their unhurried journey over her belly.
Each was aware of the surreal air surrounding them as they sat together quietly. The vampire and his Slayer were lying together in what had come to be their bed, spending some much-needed quality time together as they awaited the birth of the children who would bear the weight of the world on their shoulders. It was against the laws of the known world, of nature, of the universe itself...and yet there they sat. Buffy and Angel. Angel and Buffy. Vampire and Slayer were just titles. Man and woman were what had brought them together, the pull of their hearts greater than the severe finality of wrong and right.
"Do you ever..."
Buffy's hand stilled, resting palm down on his strong thigh. When he didn't continue, she asked, "You going to give me more or do I have to start guessing?"
She felt his hesitation and, concerned, pulled away from him. The fact that he was staring at the foot of the bed and not meeting her gaze was slightly alarming and Buffy reached her hand up, her palm cupping his cheek as she turned his face towards her. When she met his guilty gaze, she knew something was definitely wrong.
"We didn't do another of those swallowing-the-day things, right? I think I missed something," Buffy said lightly, giving him a soft smile. He didn't answer. "The brooding isn't going to help pick up chicks, bud."
Angel turned his head, planting a soft kiss on her palm, his gaze unwavering. "Do you ever wish that you hadn't gotten pregnant?"
For a moment, Buffy felt anger surge through her heated veins. Why was he even *suggesting* something like that? Did he think she was unhappy, that she didn't want this as much as he did? Was *he* the unhappy one? Did he want out? Who did he think he was, inconsiderately presuming that she was just some schoolgirl who wasn't ready for the challenges of motherhood?
She wanted to stay angry at him, to jump -- okay, wiggle, pregnant women couldn't really jump -- out of bed and demand who he thought he was to make accusations like that, to yell at him for even THINKING something so ridiculous. But she couldn't, not when she gazed into his eyes and saw that his concern was genuine, that he wasn't trying to upset her, just reassure himself that she was happy with her current situation, with their relationship. He seemed almost frightened that she was going to turn on him, where two minutes ago he couldn't have had any doubts.
"I think my mood swings are rubbing off on you," she stated softly, slumping back against him. Angel clutched her tighter to his chest, both hands maneuvering over to caress her protruding belly again. One of the babies shifted within her, alerting its parents that it was awake with a sharp kick. Soothing hands calmed the child as Angel covered the taut skin with his palm, stroking gently.
"Do you?" he asked, his voice soft, hoarse.
Buffy was silent for a moment. "I...I think that sometimes I do." She was expecting the tension that seized his body and smiled, lifting her hand to trace his knuckles. "Sometimes, like when I'm puking my guts out at four in the morning, or when I can't fit into yet another of my favorite shirts, or when I feel fat and bloated and utterly disgusting."
"Buffy, I--"
"Shh," she urged, a single finger against his lips to quiet him. "But then I remember what it was like that day, how happy we both were together...how right it all was. What it felt like the first time they moved. Everything we've had to go through to get here, everything we two freaks of nature have gone against...Angel, I'm *having* your *children*. How could I possibly even begin to regret that?"
His hand had stilled long ago, and she felt the tips of his fingers shaking against her. "What did you just say?"
Exasperated, she heaved a sigh. "Y'know, usually when a girl pours her heart out like that you're supposed to pay attention so she doesn't have to repeat it. It's a lot less meaningful the second time around."
"Buffy, what do you remember?" Angel pressed.
"To always eat my vegetables?" she joked.
"Buffy."
She rolled her eyes, but indulged him. "I remember what it was for us that day, being with you...like we were some normal couple. For the first time, I really *felt* normal. Falling asleep with you, after our rather successful attempt at marathon sex, was just..perfect. And then there was--"
"You remember," he whispered, the note of wonder in his voice unmistakable.
"Yeah, I just said that. I remember..." She trailed off, letting that sink in. "Oh God."
"You remember," Angel said again.
"I...Angel, I...oh God, I think I do." Buffy abruptly pulled away from him, her body beginning to tremble. "But...how do I know? What if I just sorta made those memories up? How do I know that they're real and not some imitation?"
"You *feel* it, don't you? You feel how real they are," he offered, scooting over to her.
"They don't feel fake... But I...they just seem so...so *real*. Like they really happened."
Emboldened by her revelation, Angel let his lopsided grin tug at one side of his mouth as he shifted, closing the gap between them considerably. "Buffy, they did happen. Everything you feel, all those emotions...it all happened."
"But how do I KNOW?" she asked, nearly hysterical as tears welled in her hazel eyes, making them luminous, shimmering in the mellow bedroom light. It was as though a tidal wave had washed over her suddenly and when it passed she had been left completely bare and open, gasping for breath, trying to make sense of what had happened. Everything she had thought was just her mind's way of searching for her memories by using what Angel had told her had been *real*. It had all been *hers*. They...they were real.
"Because you feel them. Because you FEEL those memories," he whispered. A solitary tear streaked down her face and he reached over, drawing it across her cheekbone with the pad of his index finger.
"But, but...I didn't *do* anything for them," Buffy said, trying hard to understand. "I mean, we tried meditation at first, and then that hypnotizing thing that Wesley isn't about to forget, and then there was talking...Willow even tried a spell! How could SITTING HERE just make them come?"
Angel gathered her up and, with some minor shifting and a few stretched limbs, positioned her in his lap. He trailed a finger down the curve of her back, whispering in her ear, "Maybe you've had them the whole time. What's that old saying? Whatever you're looking for is usually right in front of you?"
"But they weren't!" she whimpered, her tiny hands clutching at his simple white t-shirt. Once she knew what they were, the emotions that she'd just thought were artificial stirred deep inside of her, a haze of love and tears and broken, forgotten promises. "I looked. I looked everywhere! In front, behind, up, down, sideways, backwards...they were totally M.I.A. until now. Why?"
"Buffy, I think this is one of those times where we don't look the gift horse in the mouth, huh?"
She sniffled. "I guess."
"Do you not want them?" he asked softly, tracing the curve of her spine.
Buffy pulled far enough away to look up at him, her eyes wide. "No! No, Angel, I do!" She sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know I'm not making with the sense at the moment, it's just..."
"Overwhelming," Angel supplied, pulling her back to him again. Wincing at the sharp kick she received in her side, Buffy leaned into his well-muscled chest as she rubbed her stinging belly.
"Thank you, Mr. Understatement," she said. He chuckled, lifting his hand to resume his constant vigilance over her womb. "And you," she directed at her distended stomach, "had better stop that before you wake up your twin. Mommy will not be happy if you both start doing cartwheels."
"And when Mommy's not happy, no one is safe," Angel added breezily, earning him a half-hearted smack from Buffy.
"I think I'm in shock," she announced a few minutes later, her fingers stilling their movement up and down his forearm as she nuzzled into his neck, burrowing against his chest. Angel wrapped her in his tight embrace, brushing his lips against her forehead in the barest of kisses.
"It makes sense, though, Buffy. Didn't the Oracle say you already had them, you just had to want them?"
"You think I could actually understand her?" Buffy asked "She put your cryptic act to shame."
His chest rumbled with laughter. "It's her job to be cryptic."
"She deserves to be Employee of the Month, then, because she did a hell of a job confusing me. All that talk about memories and prophecies...and then there was all that crazy talk about you being the father of my babies. It wasn't just cryptic, it was looney bin talk," Buffy said.
Angel was silent for a moment, his mind drawn back to the day his life had been forever changed. There was something the Oracle had mentioned...something he was supposed to do... "Remember how she told me I had to help you get them back?" Buffy nodded wordlessly, if not a bit hesitantly, not sure she followed. "Maybe I did."
"And for those of us currently not residing in Angel's head, that would be how?" Buffy asked, sliding off his lap to face him.
"Well, we've become pretty...domesticated, I guess, and maybe just by being together, like this...you somehow got them back," he theorized before reaching over to take her hand. He couldn't help himself; he needed some sort of physical contact.
"Just by being with you?" she repeated, a slender brow arched. Buffy let that sink in, mulling it over and realizing that it didn't sound as crazy as she thought it would. Well, it did, but considering her life it was very plausible. "You mean all this time I could've remembered by locking myself in a room with you for a few days? Why couldn't any of those end of the world prophecies be solved with that?"
He smiled at her, shuddering as she brushed her thumb lightly over his palm, sending goosebumps trailing up his cool skin. Before he could reply, she sighed and pulled away from him, moving over to the side of the bed. Standing, she looked back to see his hand still outstretched towards her, silently begging her to return to him.
"I've got two people sitting on my bladder, I have to empty it before they kick and do the honors for me," she grinned, slipping into the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom. Buffy returned a minute later to find Angel propped up against the headboard once more, watching her with his dark eyes as she approached. She sank down onto the side of the bed and began the rather complicated process of resuming her previous position by his side. With an excessive amount of wriggling, she was able to curl up against him once more, bending one of her legs to twine with his.
"All better?" he asked once she'd stilled.
"For the moment, but I'm sure it won't last long. One of them will start getting all cranky, and then the other will be hungry, and then I'll have to pee again...can I not be pregnant anymore?" she whined. He smiled at her teasing tone and lifted her face up to his questing mouth with a finger beneath her chin. Their lips met tenderly, lingering for a long moment before Buffy pulled away, pressing her forehead to his as she came down from the high his kiss always created. Her breathing was a bit ragged and she marveled at how amazing it was that he could take her breath away with something so loving, so gentle. Everything that passed between them was so passionate, so loving, so moving, that her overbearing hormones made tears well in her eyes.
"I love you," she whispered as a few hot tears slid down her finely sculpted cheeks. Angel reached up and drew them away with the pad of his thumb, tracing her lips for good measure. Her eyes were dark and luminous as her tongue darted out to lap at his finger during one of its passes and he groaned, regretfully dropping his hand, knowing if he didn't they'd both let things spiral out of control in a matter of seconds.
Buffy sighed and flopped down into the sea of pillows Angel kept at the head of his bed, turning her head into one and inhaling deeply, breathing him in. She glanced up to find Angel running a hand over his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before dropping it down to his side again.
"She forgot to add her disclaimer: warning, memories will add even more sexual tension to your relationship. At least before I couldn't remember how into licking ice cream off your chest I was," she said, her cheeks burning at the thought.
Angel groaned. "You keep bringing all that up and you're going to make both of us wish you'd never remembered," he told her.
Buffy looked stricken for a moment, and Angel moved forward to offer an apology for his comment when she sat up quickly. "Angel...the Oracle, she-she said we didn't have to worry about something that wasn't an issue anymore. She said it more complicated than that, of course -- hey, maybe she's British! Giles always talks like that too."
"Buffy," Angel admonished, unclear of where she was going with her latest line of thought.
"Sorry. But, really, what could she have meant by it? I was all about arguing that we couldn't *be* together and she seemed pretty sure that we could be, so maybe...I mean, it's not totally out of the realm of possibility, right?" she asked. Sure, she was reaching, but their closeness was affecting her a lot more than she was willing to admit (no need to get herself and Angel even more worked up when nothing would come of it).
He was quiet for a moment, pondering what she'd proposed. Finally, he said, "It's...it's possible, I guess. But--"
“I know it doesn't seem all that likely, but...I just.." Buffy paused, struggling to find the right words. "I have this feeling. What else could she have meant by it?"
"I don't know, Buffy," Angel shrugged. Truthfully, he didn't. It had never occurred to him that that was what she could have been referring to; the curse had always and would always be an obstacle between them. He was not naïve enough to hope for the loophole to be lifted just like that, and he wasn't willing to cause anyone any harm by testing out some crazy-sounding theory, no matter how tempting it was.
Buffy sighed. "It's probably not, the Powers have way too much fun screwing with us to let us off that easily."
"They do," he agreed.
"But...she *did* say that you shouldn't pass this up just because of things that were no longer an issue, right?"
Angel didn't allow the hope that had sparked in the pit of his stomach to spread. "She could have just meant that I couldn't leave because you were pregnant."
"Oh come on, she can't be *that* old fashioned. Being a single mom nowadays is practically the norm. If you didn't want to be a part of this, you wouldn't be," Buffy argued.
"She may not be, but I'm a 250 year-old Irish Catholic. You get a woman pregnant, you marry her."
"Glad to know you're in this because you want to be," she grumbled, turning away from him.
Angel sighed. "Buffy, look. I...I want to believe it, but I think that's why I can't. If that's not what she meant, we could get ourselves into a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, I know," she sighed. Hello frustration. Her hand skimmed over her exposed belly as she realized the twins must have fallen back asleep. They were quiet within her, and she only brushed the skin lightly before turning back to Angel. "But maybe...oh! Remember in the hospital, when you saw the sonogram picture? You were all Moment of Happiness Guy then and nothing happened."
"I don't...that may have not been one of those 'true' moments," Angel rationalized.
She pressed on, emboldened by his skepticism. "You looked all peaceful and non-broody to me. And then when we felt them kick for the first time, and at the doctor's that one day, and--"
"Buffy, I know, I remember all that, but...I just...I don't know if they were *perfect* moments. All those things were different from actual...y'know."
He was trying, she had to give him that. She herself was scared of what she was saying, what she was implying they do. Her scars from Angelus had healed, but they were always beneath the surface, always a reminder of what their passion had unleashed. To be suggesting that one of their main obstacles no longer stood in their way was...huge. And very, very scary. Especially because they had no solid proof that it was actually real, that the big road block in their relationship had just been lifted magically with no repercussions and no price.
"I just..."
Buffy reached over and took his hand, wrapping it in both of hers. "I know, Angel, I'm scaring myself too with all this nonsense. But it just...it feels right. It feels like my memories. I just can't ignore it."
"It's...I just don't *know*," he groaned, glancing down at her, trying hard to keep the hope that was winning over his skepticism from her. He couldn't let her see how much he wanted to believe it; they'd be in too much trouble if he did. Buffy sat up slowly, inching her way over to him. She held his gaze steadily, hotly, licking her lips as she shifted until their legs were touching, their bodies humming, nerves sparking to life.
"Willow has a copy of the curse. She couldn't figure it out, but she's got a copy," she whispered, leaning closer to him.
"And I've got manacles. And chains. You know, uh, just in case. Demon capture and all," Angel said hoarsely. He groaned when Buffy licked her lips, staring at him with bedroom eyes as her hormones got the best of her and she tugged her simple t-shirt up over her head, leaving her in a red satin bra that barely contained her swollen breasts. At least being pregnant meant she had cleavage.
"Or for tying you up?" she said with a silly grin.
"I...well, there's, uh, there's that too, I guess, although I didn't really buy them with that in mind," he stammered. He was pleased with himself, he'd been able to -- so far, at least -- keep eye contact and not let his gaze stray down to how enticing she looked...even though he was so very tempted. Just one glimpse couldn't really hurt, right?
The way the red would look against her golden skin, the lift her already firm breasts would have, the ease with which he could divest her of it in a matter of seconds...no No more thoughts. That way lay contemplation of naked Buffy, which, given the current situation, would only spell disaster for them.
"Pity," Buffy said softly as she shifted over to him on the bed.
"Why's that?" Angel asked, giving in for a brief moment and breaking their gaze to just get a peek...and instantly regretted it. Her creamy breasts looked so inviting Angel was seriously afraid he might start to cry. It was too much temptation, he really couldn't be expected to just walk away from her when she looked so delicious, sat so close, smelled so amazing...right? The Powers were cruel, but this was just absolute torture.
She giggled, the girlish motion causing her breasts to jiggle in their confinement, and Angel nearly doubled over as a jolt shot through his entire body, setting every nerve ending on fire. "Because," she purred, "it would be fun to have you at my mercy," and licked her lips, making it impossible for him to remember what it was they had just been talking about. Her hormones were racing, he was used to them...he'd just never been what she was craving.
No, that wasn't true. They had wanted each other since their little interlude in the shower all those months ago, when they had sought comfort in one another, and had purposely done everything they could to distance themselves -- which was much harder than it sounded, since they were having twins and were all but living together. It had been difficult, and tempting at times, but they both knew they couldn't push it. They still couldn't. And she was. Oh God, was she, and when she began fingering the front clasp, Angel nearly lost it.
"Buffy, we--"
"Angel, if you say we can't I won't be held responsible for my actions," she warned, inching closer to him still. "What's the matter? Not into pregnant chicks?"
The noise that escaped his lips was very close to being a growl. "That's not it and you know it. You've never looked more beautiful." He had to pause and take a deep breath, the act of forcing his dead lungs to expand and contract giving him a momentary distraction.
It passed all too soon, though, and he was still staring at Buffy, still grasping at the tattered, frayed edges of his control.
"So then what's the problem?"
He stared at her. "Buffy. Think about what you want to do."
She grinned at him. "How about I show you instead?" Reaching for him, she couldn't hide her disappointment when he pulled out of her reach, fearing what would happen if they actually made skin-to-skin contact. And that damn scrap of red fabric would surely haunt him for as long as he lived.
"Buffy! We *can't* do this! Just being with you is pushing it, we can't go further. We don't know the boundaries of the curse, we--"
"So let's find out!" Buffy cried. "Let's see how far we can push it! I'm sick of living with this hanging over our heads!"
"And you think I'm not?!" he returned, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, feeling as though the weight of all their hopes was on his shoulders. "This isn't some science experiment, Buffy. Last time Angelus was released he thought it would be fun to suck the whole world into hell! Who knows what he'll do to you now that you're pregnant."
"You don't think I'm aware of that? Angel, I remember everything he did to me in excruciating, stereo sound, Technicolor detail...but we've got chains. We've got the curse, which is our version of safe sex. And the Oracle--"
He shot her a pained look. "We can't go on what she said, Buffy, we don't even know what she was referring to." So tempting so tempting sotemptingsotemptingohgodohgod--
And then she undid the clasp that was hidden in her cleavage and the scrap of red fell away and Angel was sure he would spontaneously combust right there on the bed.
He'd nearly forgotten how beautiful her breasts were. It was silly, really, he'd seen more than his share over the centuries, and yet he was certain he'd never seen any as perfect as hers (biased? Oh, no, not at all). They were larger now, heavy with nourishment, and he was certain his hands would not be able to hold their fullness if he let himself touch her. Which he wouldn't. Nope, no touching at all.
"You were saying?" she prompted, a knowing smile on her lips.
His gaze didn't leave her chest as he mumbled a sort of "Hmm?" absentmindedly, too busy memorizing every inch of her to form so much as a coherent thought, let alone an actual string of them. He was utterly captivated by her beauty, by the changes she'd undergone in the past few months, by the way the light glinted off the oil her skin hadn't yet absorbed. Finally, he managed to tear himself away from her breasts, ashamed that he'd been staring like some horny teenager who'd never seen a woman topless before.
Buffy was crawling towards him, her eyes dark with a passion he hadn't seen in much too long. Though it proved to be a bit challenging, she finally managed to situate herself by his side, her roaming hands trailing up his thigh to the waist of his pants, where she delved inside and came back with fistfuls of his shirt, tugging to remove it fully.
"I showed you mine," she whispered breathlessly, her lips centimeters from his ear. Dangerously close to losing control, Angel shuddered as her nimble fingers traced a circle around his navel, closing his eyes and praying to any deity that would listen that this wouldn't ultimately lead to their destruction. It had been too long and she looked so tempting, so ripe and ready for him, and he was so weak...and they *did* have a copy of the curse. If Angelus was released, Buffy would just have to chain him up and give Willow a call so she could do the spell. It was dangerous and wrong and he shouldn't even be contemplating it, but they had some form of protection...and maybe he wouldn't even be able to experience another moment of true happiness, knowing the evil it would unleash.
Okay, so it would be rather impossible for him to not be perfectly happy because he would finally be with her again, and there was nothing more that he wanted than to be able to make love to her freely, without the end of the world hanging over his head. As far as stupidity went, the very thought of actually going through with it ranked high up on the list, but Angel had never let that stop him before.
They lost control then, both giving in because somehow it felt *right*. There would be time later to question it, to doubt it, but for the moment Angel and Buffy were too wrapped up in one another to care about curses and demons and the danger their coupling could unleash. They were together. Nothing else mattered.
She had already fallen asleep by the time he was somewhat coherent again, and he was loathe to leave the soft haven of her body as he gently slipped free, the laws of biology too strong to keep them joined. With a content sigh, Angel covered them with his large down comforter and nuzzled the hollow of her neck lovingly, gently removing the pillow from underneath her hips and settling her against his chest.
He fell into a deep sleep, cradling Buffy in his arms, his hands guarding the tiny lives inside of her. The potentially fatal threat that they could soon be facing was buried in his pleasure-infused mind. Nothing, not curses or demons or nosy friends, could possibly disturb them now.
Nothing did.
*~*
Someone was lurking outside the door.
Buffy glanced up from the bed, feeling hesitation on the other side of the wall. She tensed slightly; ready to protect them from whatever was lurking just out of her reach, suddenly feeling confined in the small, sterile room. She didn't even realize that she had slipped into Slayer mode as she waited, helpless to do anything else without weapons and support.
Maybe the antiseptic was just making her paranoid.
The handle turned slowly and the door was opened a crack. Angel poked his head in, peering into the dim light. Mentally chiding herself for freaking so much, Buffy smiled at him softly and beckoned him in, careful to remain as still as possible. They'd just gotten settled -- or as settled as she could make them in the tiny room when she didn't have the luxuries of home at her fingertips. Besides, the less she moved, the less she ached, and since they had told her they couldn't really offer her any more drugs (much too soon for her tastes, drugs were *very* good) she tried to stay as still as possible, not wanting to do further damage to her tired, pain-laced body.
Luckily, he moved with all the silent grace of a two hundred and forty four year-old vampire and glided into the room as though he was nothing but a shadow, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor so as not to disturb the peaceful scene on the bed where his family rested.
As he neared the bed, Angel brought his hand out from behind his back and offered up the three lavender roses he held. Her eyes sparkled with surprise and she gifted him with one of her billion watt smiles, tilting her head to indicate he should leave them on the table and get over to her as soon as possible. Never one to disappoint, Angel carefully laid them aside and moved over to the bed where she was lying quietly, stooping down to drop a soft kiss on her brow.
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead as he asked, "How're my girls?"
"We just ate. Again. And now we're sleeping. Again. Don't worry; you didn't miss their first word or their first step or their first date. Just dinner," Buffy whispered, beaming down at her daughters, one whom slept in the cradle of her arms, the other in the plastic crib beside the bed.
"Buffy, they were just born seven hours ago, we've got a long time before words and an eternity before Spring Flings and Senior Proms," he said. Leaning down, he gathered up the pink bundle and lifted the baby out of her crib, cradling her against his chest. Buffy shifted over, making room for him to sit beside her on the narrow bed.
When they had settled in side by side, Angel turned to glance at his Slayer. "They're so little," Buffy murmured, stroking Lily's cheek with a single finger. "I just want to hold them all the time, keep them safe."
"I know," Angel said as he gazed down at the newborn in his arms in wonder. Careful not to disturb the precious bundle, he slung an arm around Buffy's shoulders and pulled her close, resting his cheek in her hair. "We're going to protect them."
"Against demons and vampires and bullies and Nazi principals," she added.
"And Anya."
"Anya? What about Cordelia?" Buffy teased.
"She's harmless as long as she's far away from my credit card," Angel said.
Lily stirred in Buffy's arms, opening dark eyes to stare up at her mother. Buffy couldn't help the huge smile she gave her daughter as she pressed a delicate kiss to the baby's blonde head. "They've got your eyes," she said.
"You're amazing," he whispered, seeking her lips out for a quick, chaste kiss.
"Thank you, Subject Changing Guy," Buffy grinned. Angel chuckled, shifting the baby in his arms. Julia slept on, uninterrupted by her father's subtle movements as he stared down at her in humbled wonder, still unable to believe that he was holding his daughter (his DAUGHTER!) in his arms. Already he wanted nothing more than to protect them, driven by primal instincts to shelter and care for his young. They were his responsibility, his family, and it was his duty to provide for them, to read to them at night and make them chicken soup when they got sick and kiss bruised knees when they fell and help with math problems and cheer them on at soccer games and give in when they wanted a puppy and glare disapprovingly at the boys they brought home and be there for them when they got their hearts broken for the first time and teach them about the world and about life. It was his chance to make peace with his father, to move forward; finally, to let go of the guilt he felt over the sins he had committed centuries ago. He would be there for his daughters in the way his father had never been for him, and he knew that he would never make the same mistakes. He couldn't, not when he gazed down at the newborn who had curled her tiny fist around his finger and was holding on so tightly for someone so tiny.
They were so beautiful, so small, so perfect...he loved them more every second. And the woman who had brought them into this world, who had carried them inside of her, who had screamed long and hard through her labor, who had bore them in sweat and blood and love, the person he kept falling in love with every time he glanced at her, was more amazing than anyone he'd ever known in two hundred and forty four years.
"We did it, you know. We made it," Buffy murmured tiredly, leaning against his chest, fitting her head into the curve of his neck that had been shaped specifically for her.
"No," he said, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. "We've just begun."
--END
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