Title: Wake-up Call
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: All your Buffy and Angel are belong to Joss Whedon.
Summary: Buffy and Wesley prep for the latest apocalypse. 300 words.
Spoilers: Post B:tVS 7.22, "Chosen", circa A:tS 5.22 "Not Fade Away" in my AU
Notes: For maevebran, 10th entry in the btvsats_love drabblethon. She requested B/A, B/Wes, or Wes/Fred; this series is generally B/Wes but refers to the other two. Hey, I finally got to the fluff!
In those muzzy moments immediately after the Slayer dream ends, Buffy blinks up at the ceiling, mind a-whirl. Angel in the rain, in an alley, facing down a vast demon army: it's like the Turok-Han battle again, only this time in Los Angeles. At his side: a blue-haired girl, a dark-skinned guy with a stomach wound, a guy with brown hair she doesn't recognize, and-- of all people-- *Spike*.
Someone's going to pay for keeping that little tid-bit from her.
She takes a deep breath, and the warm arm stretched across her stomach tightens in sleepy possessiveness. Buffy smiles to herself and scoots backward a little, rubbing enticingly against the arm's owner; he murmurs something indecipherable in her ear and stirs, tangling a leg through hers and nuzzling against her neck.
She consciously dismisses all thought of Spike. They have a few hours before worrying about transport to California, judging by the light levels in her dream. Right now, she has other things she'd rather think about: a little morning nookie with her *current* love for starters. Andrew can keep his Breakfast of Champions; this is the best way to prep for an apocalypse, hands down.
Buffy turns in Wesley's arms and presses a welcome kiss to his drowsy mouth. He blinks at her, all heavy-lidded gaze and five o'clock shadow, and his hands roam from the middle of her back down to her hips.
"Good morning, Buffy," he says huskily, and smiles, that wonder-filled smile that always makes her feel like the Queen of everything.
"Morning, Wes," she whispers back. "Apocalypse tonight, it looks like."
"Mmm. We were about due for one," he says. "Called Giles yet?"
"Nope," she replies, licking her lower lip. "We've got time."
He kisses her again, then begins putting that time to excellent use.