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Summary: Twenty-four prompts, twenty-four fics, twenty-four days till Christmas. Brought to you by Wishlist_fic on LiveJournal.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General > Ficlet Collections - Other(Moderator)AvaFR152023,98815714,9601 Dec 1027 May 13No

NOTE: This chapter is rated FR13

Fresh Coffee, Ancient Wisdom

Title :: Fresh Coffee, Ancient Wisdom
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. Stargate SG-1 and all related characters and dialogue are copyright of Brad Wright, Jonathan Glassner, Showtime and the SyFy Network. No infringement intended.

Prompt :: kerrykhat/Buffy, Daniel/BtVS, Stargate SG-1/Song Fic: “Help, I’m Alive’ by Metric

Fresh Coffee, Ancient Wisdom

Colorado winters were a definite change from southern California’s and Buffy had on enough layers to prove it as she made her way through the crowded street. Her hands slipped into the lined pockets of her leather jacket and she promised herself she’d get gloves, preferably wool, as soon as she found a retailer. The smell of fresh brewing coffee stopped her and she winced when the person behind her muttered a curse and she blushed before ducking her head and cutting through the throng to reach the relative safety beneath a storefront awning.

She could see a row of books set up on what looked like an old sewing table through the window beside her and above that display, etched on the glass, read ‘Agia Sophia, Fresh Coffee, Ancient Wisdom.’ It struck her as so very Giles’ that it made her smile and open the door to a wall of warmth and the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread. Her mouth watered, reminding her that she’d skipped breakfast in the hopes of getting some early Christmas shopping done before she had to head off to Jefferson City and the few local Slayers residing there.

The six stationed in Colorado Springs currently had everything under control—the everything being very little—which meant her next check in wouldn’t be till spring and hopefully warmer weather. A shiver chased its way down her spine as she entered the coffee shop and the temperature change took its toll as goosebumps rose and she freed her hands from chilled pockets to rub at her aching fingers. Her head inclined, ruler straight, and frizz free, hair—cold weather was good for something—slipped forward and she really wished she still owned her ‘da’bomb’ beanie because she could have used it on this cross-country trip visiting the newbies.

With a squaring of her shoulders and a shake of her head she finally rallied enough to move out of the entryway and into the small opening that held a wide glass display to her left, filled with novels that looked old and pricey, and to her right was the ordering area. She made her way forward, the heels of her Colin Stuart convertible boots, which could be worn three different ways, thankyouverymuch, and were also the reason she needed to find Dawn the best Christmas gift ever, knocked against the brushed concrete floor as she made her towards the counter and the elegantly scripted menus hanging on the walls.

Generally she was an iced-coffee girl, but today was definitely an exception to that rule and the white chocolate mocha latte was screaming her name. She continued to study the food menu as she waited her turn in line and smiled at the pleasant atmosphere and the aromas surrounding her as she warmed up. “May I help who’s next?” was called by the barista that had just freed up and Buffy stepped forward and placed her order of the, hopefully, sinful latte and a cream cheese panini.

Her name was asked and she paid via the Council debit card, since this was official Council business she was on, and left a dollar in the tip jar before moving to the side and allowing the next customer to order. She turned to look for possible seating behind her and frowned at the lack of it. The open space held only three tables, capable of seating two or three, and another bookshelf lined with the latest best sellers. Her mouth curved down at the side because currently all of those tables were taken.

“Buffy,” she turned with the calling of her name and raised her brows at the promptness of her order before accepting it with a thanks and turned back to the still full seating area. A frown tugged her brows down and she glanced towards the front door and could see a small area of tables outside that were empty and with a shudder she turned back to the room.

White teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she studied each of the tables and its occupants as she made her way forward, into that relatively small room, and hesitated, noticing a small counter off to the left that she could stand at to eat her panini. She turned, took two steps when someone called, “Ma’am,” and she hesitated—partially because she hated that phrase and because she was currently the only female, other then the barista, in the coffee shop at the moment. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

Buffy turned, found herself staring at a wide chest covered by a brown leather jacket that looked well used and cared for, which told her better than anything it was a native speaking, before her gaze rose and she was staring into a pair of impressive blue eyes behind a pair of wire framed glasses. Those eyes gathered nicely around the corners and her heart did the oddest stumble in her chest before she returned his smile with a raising of her brows.

“I have a free seat at my table,” he followed the explanation with stepping back and motioning behind him to one of the narrow tables filled with a laptop and strewn with loose papers.

“You look busy,” she offered him an apologetic smile, “and there’s a space—”

“I wouldn’t mind the break,” his soft interruption paused her readily supplied excuse and his smile widened, knocking his attractiveness up a several notches before he added, “Really, it’s not an inconvenience. Please join me.”

“I,” she paused, glanced back at the standing counter that would probably reach her chest, even with her boots, and sighed before turning back to him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He turned, leading them back to the table and she paused next to it, allowing him to gather some of his notes and shut his computer before presenting her with a place to set down her latte and panini. She slid into the cool wooden chair before she brought her drink up to blow into the narrow slit in the plastic cover.

“I’m Daniel,” his casual statement of his name had her looking up and pausing in her blowing—her internal monologue derailed on that thought and caused her to blush—but she focused and saw him giving her his undivided attention. Perfect.

“Buffy,” she paused, frowned, “I’m Buffy that is,” his brows twitched, just marginally and she watched him swallow the urge to comment on her name as she offered him her right hand over the table. He accepted the shake with another wide flashing of his teeth and she stated, “Thank you. Again.”

Retracting her hand she finally took a small sip of her latte and she was right, it was sinfully good. A content hum escaped her and she placed her drink beside her plate before searching her narrow purse for the bottle of hand sanitizer Willow kept her stocked on. She retrieved it and saw the raising of Daniel’s brows and another, darker blush worked up from her throat to burn her cheeks when she realized how that looked and she hastily stated, “It’s not you,” those blue eyes narrowed and she winced, explaining, “I’ve been shopping all morning and money handling and food does are just unmixy things. Or at least they should be unmixy.”

Buffy flinched and applied the chilly substance to her palms and quickly rubbed them together before she noticed that Daniel looked more amused then offended and he was nodding, always a plus, before he stated, “I agree,” he paused, amended, “Perhaps not in the wording, but the content is sound,” a frown tugged at Buffy’s brows but before she could decipher if he was mocking her or simply being polite Daniel was changing the subject, “You were shopping?”

She nodded, “Christmas to be exact,” his head inclined and he took a sip from his own coffee and as Buffy added, “I know it’s only November fourth, but I like to check out local shops when I travel.”

“So you’re only visiting?”

Her head inclined when she thought she heard a hint of disappointment before a shrug lifted her shoulder and she broke off a piece of her panini. “Yep,” she brought the piece up and added, “I’ll be back periodically, but I live in Cleveland,” she popped the panini in her mouth and smiled as when the sweetness of the cream cheese hit her tongue.

“What brings you to Colorado Springs if you don’t mind my asking?”

Buffy lifted a hand to cover her mouth she shook her head and finished chewing. She swallowed before stating, “I don’t mind,” and reached forward for her latte, “I basically drop off and pick up packages all around the United States.” She just didn’t need to mention that said packages tended to hold mystical artifacts or happened to be teenager girls.

“You’re a courier?” He sounded intrigued and Buffy flinched, offering him a weak smile as she took a sip of her latte and hoped he didn’t ask too many questions regarding her profession. She’d always sucked at the secret identity stuff. “Where’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been?”

Her smile turned genuine and she broke off another piece of her panini before stating, “New Orleans. Good food, good drink and the friendliest locals I’ve come across yet.” He chuckled, a low sound that turned her stomach in a good way and Buffy took a moment to eat her food before asking, “And you?”

A brow quirked and he inclined his head before he stated, “Egypt.”

“Egypt?” She didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was impressed with his destination.

He nodded. “Good food, not that great of drink and I never had an issue with the locals,” Buffy watched as his teasing smile turned wistful, “The first time I went I was eight and I remember thinking the pyramids were man’s greatest achievement.”

“You thought that at eight?” Buffy shook her head, explained, “At eight I would have thought big and sandy.”

“I was a bit of an overachiever.”

“A bit?”

She questioned with a laugh and soon found herself lost in conversation with this Daniel until her panini was all but gone and her latte had turned cold and unappetizing. She glanced around to see an entirely new set of customers surrounding them and she glanced down, moving her leather jacket aside and raised her brows with the fact that she’d spent nearly forty-five minutes talking with a complete stranger about everything and nothing.

“Do you have to go?”

Buffy looked up, noticed the relaxed smile on Daniel’s more than attractive mouth and shook her head, “I don’t, but don’t you have work to get back to?”

“I do,” his blunt honesty surprised her and her brows rose even as he added, voice almost hesitant, “I’d also like to have dinner with you tonight.”

“I…” Buffy paused in telling him she was leaving that night because morning traffic could be terrible on the weekends but the gentle quiver in her stomach and her slightly warm hands made her stop and reconsider. The sheepish, almost worried smile he was giving had her heart thudding suddenly in her chest and she swallowed. It’d been a long while since someone, someone human that is, had made her feel that pleasant tingle of awareness and she found herself nodding and agreeing, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened and the trace of surprise in it told her she’d made the right call and Buffy found herself eagerly returning it.

The end.
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