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Title: Missing Socks
Author: Diana (mikonoda@bellsouth.net)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of the almighty Joss, and all affiliated with him.
Timeline: The future. AU.
Spoilers: General spoilers. Not many.
Synopsis: A pick-me-up fic for all those losing faith in our favorite destined pair. A future fic in which Angel is human, he and Buffy are affianced, and they are living together in the mansion.
Distribution: I follow a strict "want, take, have" policy. Tell me where it's going, though.
A/N: This is a one shot. I don't think I'll be doing a sequel though. This is a humor fic, a sort of "day-in-the-life" thing.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Rating: R, for language and references to sex. (Human-Angel has a one-track mind.)
*
CRASH!
Buffy cracked one eye open blearily, and lay perfectly still. The sound that woke her up was soon repeated.
THUD!
Now there was some muttered swearing accompanying the noises. Buffy leaned up on one elbow and checked the clock beside the bed. It currently read 5:43 am, an inhuman time to be up on the weekend. Next, Buffy looked over to her right, where an Angel-shaped compression was permanently shaped into the mattress.
Unfortunately, there was no Angel to fill the Angel-shaped compression, and at this early time (did she say early? She meant to say freakishly early) her large, hulking boyfriend should have been snoring peacefully beside her. Or at least be awake and watching her (a creepy habit that he never really kicked). This called for an impromptu solo investigation, and Buffy did not like to investigate.....well, anything when it was early.
CRASH! Goddamn!
Buffy sighed. The work of a former-Slayer was never done. She groaned, stood up, and stumbled around clumsily until she found one of Angels shirts, which she hoisted over her head. The silk brushed against her thighs, and she wondered again, what was up with Angel and his fixation with all things silk (not that she was complaining or anything).
She followed the assorted thumps, bangs, and thuds until she reached the mansions basement. This had better be worth it, she thought to herself snarkily as she slipped inside the partially open door and climbed deftly down the wooden steps.
BOOM! Ah, shit!
Rounding a corner, Buffy encounteredshe blinked. Rubbed her eyes. Blinked again. Angel, a man who was always a very withdrawn guy, and would never put himself in a potentially embarrassing situation, was halfway inside their dryer, muttering a string of curses in a language that she didn't know. (Although it resembled the language that he spoke during sex a great deal. Shed never actually actually asked what language it was, although was pretty sure it was something Irish. Was Irish even a language?)
But, to return to the point, Angel was halfway in their dryer at 6 am. There was no reason to be awake at that time on a Saturday morning, much less spending your time inside a dryer.
Which, evidently was what Angel had decided to do this morning.
Thud! OW! Jesus-fucking-Christ! An arm reached out, and flailed around until it found a flashlight sitting on top of the washer. Ha ha! he said triumphantly. His voice was muffled though, so the overall effect of the Triumphant Laugh was lost.
Angel, what on earth are you doing? said Buffy, sounding utterly bewildered.
Angel was obviously surprised, as he jumped and turned around so quickly that he hit his head on the rim of the large door where clothes went in.
Ah, fuck! he said, pressing one hand to a quickly forming bruise. Buffy stepped forward and pried his hand away.
Ew Lets go put some ice on that. Whatever youre doing, it can wait until youve put some ice on that sucker, she said, leading Angel back up the stairs.
What were you doing, by the way? she asked as they climbed the stairs.
Uh...looking for a sock, said Angel sheepishly, staring at his feet (which was hard to do because the hem of his drawstring pants kept falling over it).
Thats it? asked Buffy, surprised. You decided to wake me up with your cursing and banging around because you were looking for a sock? Was it a demon sock or what?
Well, it started out I was looking for a sock, but then that stupid cat climbed in --
Dont pick on Amy II, interjected Buffy automatically.
Sorry. Anyway, then the cat climbed in and started scratching at me, so I had to rescue her. Angel did have some claw marks on him, but Buffy had thought they were her nails from the previous night.
And thats why you were making noise? At Angels nod, she continued, And why exactly were you looking for a sock at this hour?
Angel shrugged, I was awake. I couldn't get back to sleep, and you get mad at me when I try to wake you up for early morning lovemaking.
Especially on weekends, said Buffy grinning.
Yeah. So, I remembered that youd run the dryer before going to bed last night so the clothes needed folding, and figured that if I got that out of the way, later youd have some free time he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
All you think about is sex, Angel, she told him frankly.
I don't hear you complaining, he replied teasingly, Besides, two-hundred and forty plus years of being celibate will do that do a guy.
They entered the kitchen and Buffy quickly wrapped some ice in a paper towel, and pressed it against the dark purple bruise above Angels eyebrow.
He hissed in pain, Fuck, that hurts!
Stop being such a baby. I meant to ask you about that too, said Buffy amused. You never swear, and all of the sudden you're Mr. Blue Streak.
This morning has been about pain, OK? said Angel defensively. Pain, pain pain. All for me, too. Owww, stop pressing so hard, Buffy.
'Im barely touching it, she said, smiling to herself as she dabbed gently at the wound with a cloth.
You're ramming it into my extremely painful bruise! he cried, You're all take this, Angels bruise! Ha ha ha and then you mash it into my skull!
You're just one big sissy, she replied, rinsing the cloth out in the sink. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to go back to bed.
I'll go too, said Angel quickly. I mean, you're up and everything
She gave him a glare, I when I say Im going back to bed I, of course mean that I'm going back to bed in the sense of without you. You may stay up and look for that missing sock or something. I am going to where sleep is. Where I would like to be.
Awww, Angel whined, Cmon, Buffy. Newlyweds are supposed to have sex all the time
We aren't married yet, said Buffy, walking out of the kitchen.
We should prepare! Angel called after her. A lot! So we don't get rusty!
You went without for, like, two centuries, Angel. I think you'll manage, Buffy called back sounding exasperated.
What if you forget? yelled Angel desperately.
Buffy shut their bedroom door loudly, signifying the end of that particular conversation.
Men, she muttered, dropping Angel's shirt into a heap on the floor and crawling back in bed.
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