Title: Nonmethodics of Arcana
Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss while Methos belongs to Davis/Panzer.
In Canon: Five years post-'Chosen', between Endgame
and The Source
"We're none of us perfect," she tells him, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, keeping the sheet close at her chest.
He laughs a merry, sardonic laugh. "I'm well aware."
She brandishes The Pout and inches closer to him, running idle fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Not even me?"
His left arm rests on her lap and he grasps her left hip; he smiles up at her earnestly. "I'm not lying at you, Buffy."
"No? Not even a little?" She holds up her hand, holding her forefinger and thumb about an inch apart to illustrate her inquiry. Before he answers, she quickly punctuates, "Adam
He rolls his eyes. "Not for awhile, now."
She doesn't seem to hear him and he follows her line of sight to the clock, watching as the seconds tick past midnight.
He draws himself up, pressing a kiss to her hair and trailing a hand up and down her side. "Did you want to go up?"
Shaking her head, Buffy reasons. "Everyone else'll be there. I'm not really needed, right? They can deal without me."
"I didn't ask if you were needed," he points out, as sensible as ever.
"I don't. It's been so long."
"Five years. Not that long."
She shrugs, but rests her head against his shoulder. "Maybe not to you, but in Slayer years, that's basically forever. Enough time to die a few times and get a fake sister and sink an entire town into hell. And, y'know, save the world."
Grinning, she nods and looked at him. "Yep."
Then, a large and furry demon with two heads, each distinctly different, crashes through the window to their hotel suite.
Buffy thinks this quite typical.