Mile High (Buffy/Angel, PG)

[carlyinrome]

“I’ve seen you jump from rooftop to rooftop. We’re not talking low rooftops, either. Many stories high. Tall, tall rooftops.”

Angel did not open his eyes to respond. “Point?”

“My point,” Buffy said, “is that it’s kind of funny that you’re afraid of flying. Since obviously the fear of heights thing isn’t an issue.”

“Rooftops . . . are not this high.”

As if the mere mention of height caused him physical pain, Angel squinted his eyes further closed—a flinch.

Buffy sighed, lolling her head back against her seat.

“This is our honeymoon,” she said. “It’s supposed to be all romantic, and joyous, and you’re totally killing the mood. I can’t believe you never told me you’re afraid of flying.”

Angel braved opening one eye the bare minimum necessary to glare at his wife. “You’re mad because I failed to disclose a fear I didn’t even know I had before we got married? Do you want an annulment?”

“You are so dramatic,” Buffy said.

Angel closed his eye. Buffy sighed, and crossed her arms over her chest. But pouting wasn’t fun if you didn’t have an audience.

A liquid slow smile spilled over Buffy’s face. She rested her hand on Angel’s knee.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

Her hand slid slowly up Angel’s thigh. He peaked open an eye.

“I should be trying to relax you,” she said, her hand slithering further north. “And you know what I find really relaxing?”

Buffy’s fingernails tickled over Angel’s fly. His eyes flew open; his cheeks flushed.

“But—I—we’re—public—”

“There are bathrooms,” Buffy said. She rose, taking Angel’s hand, dragging him along. “Have you ever made love in a forty-by-forty-inch square?”

Angel opened his mouth to answer, then stopped himself.

“That’s the kind of question you don’t really want an answer to, right?”

Buffy began to drag him down the aisle. “You’re learning how to be married already. I’m so proud.”