That night when they went to bed, Angel acted like she was going to break. It was all soft caresses and sweet nothings in her ear. Truthfully, she had been a little nervous when he never came home, but she wasn’t going to leave until he actually tossed her out. She loved him and even if he never knew that she would take as much time as she had to be with him.
His concern for her seriously rocked her to the core. She had never had anyone worried about her before. Not in a very long time, anyway. She didn’t even know how to deal with the fact that he cared enough to be sorry for something he had done. So late in the night when she was cuddled in his tight embrace, she blinked back the tears and thanked whatever powers that be for him.
In the morning, she woke before him as usual and turned over to look at him. He really did look like an angel. He was so beautiful that sometimes she wanted to touch him just to see if he was real. Sadly, she knew he wasn’t. He was a passing gift in her wreck of a life.
Gently, she urged him to roll over onto his back and took his cock in her hands carefully. She tossed her hair to the side and leaned down, taking him into her mouth, caressing and suckling him to hardness. In the dark, he hissed in pleasure in his sleep. He hardened quickly from her manipulations and she swirled her tongue around the tip of his aching cock. She eagerly licked and nibbled the underside of his shaft before covering his length with wet kisses.
She glanced up when his fingertips lightly caressed her jaw, staring down at her with passion blazing in his dark eyes. Taking her cue, she closed her mouth over the head of his cock once more. He breathed a sigh of relief when her hot mouth finally covered him. Her talented mouth worked over him, taking in more with every stroke.
“Gods, Buffy, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groaned, arching into her hot mouth. She hummed around him, moving down further until he was gurgling and groaning with pleasure. Taking pride in his obvious pleasure, she doubled her efforts until he cried out in release.
Smiling in self-satisfaction, Buffy crawled up his body, snuggling against him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the still pounding beat of his heart. Angel’s hand sifted through her hair, carefully combing through the long tresses.
Buffy was stretching when she felt Angel’s body go rigid underneath her. “Shit,” he cursed, quickly scurrying out of bed and jumping into his sweatpants. He looked at Buffy, his eyes wide. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Buffy sat in bed, staring at the now closed door. Little by little, she inched out of bed. She picked up Angel’s discarded shirt off the floor and shrugged into it, walking to the bedroom door. She opened the door a crack and listened.
“Cordy, now is not a good time,” Angel said sharply.
“What is your deal?” Cordelia demanded. “You’re always such a fucking grouch. And if anyone has the right to be nasty, it’s me. I talked to Mom yesterday. She says you’ve been giving Buffy Summers rides down to the shelter. What the fuck is up with that?”
“That is none of your business,” Angel said, trying to shoo his sister to the door.
“Is she here now?” Cordelia asked, her face set in firm lines.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Angel scoffed.
“Angelus Chase,” Cordy snapped. “Are you fucking Buffy Summers?”
Angel sputtered, rolling his eyes at his sister. “Of course not,” he lied uncomfortably.
Cordelia looked him up and down, obviously unconvinced. Something was up with her brother and she intended to get to the bottom of it. “You better not be,” Cordelia told him darkly. “If you stick your dick in that drugged up little whore, my reputation may never recover. You may be done with undergrad life, but I’m just starting and I’m not about to be a social pariah because of your tasteless hormones.”
“Oh, well, by all means then,” Angel snapped sarcastically, “I’ll try to control myself for your benefit.”
She frowned severely at him. “I’m not kidding, Angel.”
“Go away, Cordelia,” he grumped. “I have company.”
“It better not be Buffy.”
“It’s not Buffy!” he yelled, glaring at his sister. “Now go.”
With a very unladylike snort, she turned and headed for the door.
Angel waited until Cordy was gone, then flipped the deadbolt and secured the chain on the door. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. Goddammit, what was he going to do? He cringed, hoping Buffy hadn’t heard the conversation. With a groan, he headed back to his bedroom where he met Buffy exiting. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” she chirped brightly, even though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m just going to take a real quick shower.”
She brushed past him and Angel caught her arm, forcing her to look at him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she lied, hoping he didn’t notice how brittle her smile was. She tugged on her arm and he released her.
She managed to start the shower and climb inside before she started crying. She sank down, sitting on the shower floor as water pounded over her. Damn Angel and damn her. What was she thinking getting involved with him? With anyone else, she would have been prepared for that reaction, she could have let their words roll off her back like nothing. But when Angel had so vehemently denied being involved with her, it hurt. Oh, it more than hurt, she thought she was going to die.
***
It took Buffy twenty minutes to compose herself enough that she was certain she wouldn’t break down in front of Angel. When she finally left the bathroom, he was sitting at the small table flipping through more files. “Get dressed,” he said without looking up. “I called Jenny. She knows you’re taking the day off.”
“Day off?”
Looking up, Angel’s breath caught at the sight of her wrapped in nothing but the vibrant blue towel, her hair streaming over her shoulders. He swallowed thickly. “We’re going to the mall,” he said. “I’m getting you a cell phone.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking at him in confusion.
“If I get wrapped up in work again, you can call me instead of walking home like last time,” he said, shrugging. “It’ll make me feel better to know you have one.”
“I don’t need a cell phone,” Buffy said quietly, trying to keep from crumpling again. He didn’t make any sense. One minute he was denying their involvement to his sister and the next moment he was doing something that seemed like a clear indication that he planned on being a part of her life. It was bewildering.
“All you have to do is put it in your pocket, Buffy,” he said. “You don’t even have to give out the number. Just keep it in case we need to get a hold of each other.”
“It’s expensive,” she said, heading to the bedroom to get dressed, knowing he would follow. She now kept her clothes in a pile beneath the bedside table. Just the sight of them there was a sure sign of what they weren’t. She didn’t even have a drawer. She blinked back tears as she dropped the towel and began to get dressed.
“I can afford it,” he said from the doorway.
“I know you can,” she said. “That’s not the point. Besides, usually they have contracts or something, don’t they?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So,” she said, keeping her back to him as she shimmied into her panties and then her cargo pants. “It’ll just be a mess for you to clean up later. It really doesn’t make any sense for a girl like me to have a cell phone.”
"Let me worry about it," he said. "You ready?"
***
It was early enough that the mall was still largely in the domain of the mall-walkers. There were only a few legitimate customers milling about. Angel was guiltily happy about that. He wasn't in the mood to run into anyone he knew and have to explain the fact that he was shopping with Buffy. It was nobody's business.
While Angel was finishing up the paper work at the little cell phone kiosk, Buffy milled around, looking in store windows and generally ignoring him. He still couldn't figure out why she was so adamantly opposed to him buying her a cell phone. But at least she'd gone from arguing to simply ignoring.
As the clerk finished entering the information in the computer, Angel turned around, leaning against the counter, watching Buffy. Her arms were crossed defiantly over her chest as she stared at the window display, but the expression on her face wasn't defiant, or even disgusted, as he might have expected. It was wistful, sad even.
The realization hit Angel like a physical blow. Aside from the clothes that she had taken from him, Angel had only ever seen Buffy in two different pairs of pants and a handful of threadbare t-shirts. Even five minutes ago, if you would have asked him about it, Angel would have said Buffy wore only what she wanted to wear. He figured she dressed in her baggy cargo pants and her non-descript shirts because she liked them. But watching her now, he wondered if there wasn't another reason.
"Here you are, sir," the clerk said, handing him a small bag.
"Thanks," Angel said, distracted. All of his attention was still focused on Buffy. He took the bag and walked slowly toward where she looked in at a chic little outfit in the window display. The halter and form fitting black pants would look fantastic on his new lover. He nudged her gently.
“Why don’t you go try it on?” he suggested, nodding at the outfit when she turned to look at him incredulously. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her into the store. He smiled at the clerk who ignored Buffy and walked straight to him, looking over his expensive clothing with approval.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.
***
Angel lugged Buffy’s bags to the tenth store – at the very least – that they had been to that day, wishing to fucking god he hadn’t suggested Buffy buy clothes. After her initial hesitation, she dove into the luxury of taking whatever she wanted off the racks. She spent an obscene amount of his money already and if she hadn’t been modeling all those sexy clothes for him, he would have demanded they leave seven stores ago. As she giddily approached yet another store, Angel finally balked.
“Uh uh,” he grunted. “That’s it. I can’t take another minute of this.”
“Angel,” she groaned, tugging on his arm. “Look.” He followed her pointing finger to a rack of leather pants and felt her press her body against his. He scowled for good measure as he looked down on her sweet face.
“Can you really tell me you don’t want to see me in those pants?” she asked seductively.
“Fine,” he growled out, striding toward the store, “but that’s it and I mean it. No more shopping.”
“That’s it,” she echoed, making her way to the rack and flipping through the leather pants.
“Unless you want to buy lingerie,” Angel amended. “But then that’s it.”
“Right,” she nodded, biting back at smile. She chose a black pair after carefully looking through them and then grabbed another pair of red at the last moment. She spun around with her choices and smacked a kiss on his lips. “You know, I probably should at least have one little thong,” she purred.
“Goddammit,” he grumbled as she headed for the dressing room, but he couldn’t argue. She did need one little thong and maybe another dozen to go with it.
***
Buffy and Angel were finally leaving the lingerie store an hour and half later, when they nearly collided into someone. They weren’t paying attention the people around them - mostly because Buffy was already talking about modeling the lingerie when they got home.
“Oh, excuse me,” Buffy chirped, stepping out of the way before really looking at the person in front of them.
“Buffy,” Graham said in surprise and then glanced at her companion. “And…Angelus Chase.”
“Graham,” Angel replied curtly in greeting.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said, obviously stunned and simultaneously taking notes as he looked over the multiple bags Angel was carrying, which all seemed to be from women’s stores.
“Yeah, well, it’s a small world,” Buffy blurted, unsure of how to handle the situation.
“Buffy and I volunteer together at a homeless shelter,” Angel answered easily. “We were just shopping for some donations. It’s hard to get nice, durable clothes donated year around.”
“Lingerie?” Graham asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, homeless people need panties too,” Buffy said irritably. “See you around, Graham.”
***
Buffy ignored Angel's frown of disapproval as she braced her booted feet against the dash. It shouldn't bother her. It shouldn't. But as she blinked away tears, staring out the window, she couldn't deny that it did hurt.
What the fuck was up with him anyway? It wasn't like she wasn't used to this situation. She fucked a lot of guys to get the things she needed, like drugs or a safe place to sleep for the night, but with Angel, it was different. She wasn't fucking him as payment, or because he expected it. She was fucking him because she loved him. Dammit!
She blinked quickly, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him. For whatever misguided reasons, he had just spent a ton of money on her. She had a cell phone and more clothes than she could remember ever having in her entire life. He didn't need to do that. He shouldn't have done that. How fucking stupid for him to buy all that crap for some girl he was just screwing.
But then she remembered the way his eyes looked - dark with passion - when she modeled the little sheer nightgown for him.
Yeah. Asshole. Because ten minutes later they ran into Graham and Angel played it off perfectly, like they were just co-workers. Whatever. What did she expect? That he was going to introduce her to Graham as his girlfriend? That he was going to publicly claim the community whore? No way. Angel may have been a nice guy, but he wasn't a total chump. Buffy learned long ago that a lot of guys who wouldn't give her the time of day in public had no problem fucking her into a mattress when no one was looking. Why should it shock her that Angel wasn't any different?
Because he's the first one I've loved, she thought.
Fuck it.
"Drop me of at the shelter," Buffy said tersely.
Angel looked over at her. "I already told Jenny you were taking the day off."
"Fuck you, you told Jenny," she spat. "It's my life. Take me to the shelter. You might be able to drop in whenever you fucking feel like it but some of us are court ordered to be there and I really don't feel like having my probation officer on my back."
"Fine," Angel said, taking the next corner far too fast and zooming off toward the shelter. He didn't even know why he was mad. Buffy was right. She did need to be at the shelter.
But he'd had plans to lounge around the apartment with her, watching her model her new clothes, definitely fucking her in more than a few of them. But she was right. That knowledge didn't really account for the fact that he was in an awful temper when he finally screeched to a halt in front of the Hyperion.
***
When Angel returned to the Hyperion to pick Buffy up at five, she wasn’t outside waiting like usual. Frowning, he pulled into the parking lot and stepped out after waiting ten minutes for her to show. He had spent the afternoon fuming over her going to work instead of coming home. He was pissed and he didn’t even know why he was pissed. She had a right to show up for her community service hours.
He stalked into the hotel and slipped up the stairs without drawing attention to himself. It was one thing to give Buffy rides back and forth, but it was another to go inside and seek her out like some big boner with legs. He finally found her on the third floor in one of the back bedrooms sanding down joint compound sloppily applied. He stepped inside the room watched for a second. She was wearing a facemask over her nose and mouth and was covered in white dust from head to toe from sanding all day. She was attacking the wall like she expected it to fight back.
“Buffy,” Angel said finally, “it’s almost 5:30. You want to go?”
“No,” she said, stiffening. “I need to catch up on the hours that I missed this morning. I’ll just walk home later.’
“You can come in one day this week if you want to catch up,” he offered. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you come home? You’re probably hungry. We forgot about lunch.”
“Just let me work, Angel,” she growled, sanding harder. She kept her back to him as tears welled in her eyes. She had all day to work off her anger, but she just worked herself up more. She sniffled while trying not to breathe in the dust flying off the wall before her.
“Hey,” he said, gently covering her hand with his to stop her from sanding. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she choked, pulling her hand away from his and going to the open window. She yanked the mask off and leaned out the window, taking deep breaths of fresh air.
“Why are you upset with me?” he asked again, standing closely behind her.
“I just don’t understand you, that’s all,” she answered, keeping her back to him.
“What do you mean?”
“If you think I’m a worthless whore and you can’t admit you’re fucking me, I’m wondering why you bother doing things like buying me clothes or getting me a cell phone,” she said, turning around to face him. The tears welling in her eyes began to slip out and she swiped at them angrily, leaving streaks in the white dust on her face. “Why do you bother treating me like you care, when you obviously don’t?”
“I do care,” he answered, stepping forward.
“Bullshit,” she shouted, moving away. “You don’t care about me, Angel. You couldn’t possibly. If you did you wouldn’t treat me like some dirty little secret. You wouldn’t have lied to Graham this morning or your sister.”
“It’s complicated,” Angel said carefully. “Why don’t we go home and then we can work this out, okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Buffy blurted, striding toward the door. “Why don’t we go home to your apartment where you can dress me up to be your own private fuck doll, where no one could possibly overhear? Fuck you, Angel.”
“Wait,” he shouted, pulling her back. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Does it even matter?” she cried, letting the tears flow down her cheeks. “Why did you buy me all that stuff today? WHY? Why did you make me feel like I was worth something? Just let me go, goddammit.”
“Buffy,” he said, holding onto her as she tried to yank herself away.
“What?” she sobbed, beating her fists against his chest. “You’re worse than all those other guys! At least with them, I knew where I stood. I knew what they thought of me, but you, YOU made me think you were different, that you gave a flying fuck, but you don’t.”
“I do care about you!” he roared, shaking her. “I just didn’t know how to handle telling people about us. I’m not letting you walk away from me.”
“Fuck you, Angel,” she sobbed, leaning into his chest because there was nowhere else to go. “Fuck you.”
Angel wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His eyes closed as he hugged her tighter. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't ashamed of her, but the words wouldn't come. Because they weren't true. He was ashamed and Buffy could see that even when he couldn't. He mentally cursed himself.
***
"I thought we were going back to the apartment," Buffy said, her voice scratchy and low.
"Do you mind if we go out?" he asked. He knew it was half-hearted and he knew he was only trying to alleviate his guilt. But still, it was all he was capable of at the moment.
"Whatever," she said wearily, and honestly, she didn't care.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a small duplex. Following Angel's lead, Buffy opened her door and got out. "I thought Doyle moved," she said.
"He did," Angel answered, "but last week he decided to move back. Oz never did find another roommate so I'm sure he's glad to have him back in the - " Angel fell silent and stopped in his tracks. Turning, he looked at Buffy. "How did you know Doyle used to live here?"
Buffy laughed. She was in absolutely no mood to placate Angel's ego. "How the fuck do you think I knew where he lived, Angel?" she asked in a biting tone.
Angel's jaw muscles tightened, but he remained silent. He knew that Buffy was baiting him, throwing her past in his face. He also knew that despite anything she might have done in the past that she wasn't messing around now and she wasn't doing drugs. Every night she was with him and him alone. Angel swallowed his pride and grinned. "Well, I'm not telling you how I knew where he lived either," he said with a smirk.
Buffy stared at him like he'd spoken in another language and then laughed. Shaking her head, she walked to the front door with Angel. Instead of knocking, he pressed her against the door and kissed her soundly.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” he said, between kisses. She stiffened and pulled away from his lips. For a second, she had forgotten. It was hard to remember she was a whore when she was in the arms of the man she loved.
“No,” he said, cupping her cheek. “I mean it. I won’t hide us anymore. I want to be with you, Buffy.”
“Do you really?” she asked, her lower lip trembling.
“I really do,” he answered, kissing her. “Okay?”
“Asshole,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. Keeping her closely against him, he knocked on the door.
***
It wasn't a party. A few movies, a pizza and some beers with Doyle and Oz weren’t exactly going to make Buffy and Angel a public item. But still, it was a start. Oz's girlfriend, Willow, showed up around midnight and her eyes went wide as she saw who was cuddled up next to Angel. To his credit, Angel introduced Willow to Buffy like Willow would have no reason to know who his newest girlfriend was. Being a genuinely sweet person, Willow played along.
Buffy had a few beers and snuggled up next to Angel, only half paying attention to the movies. She was sleepy and sated and safe. She smiled as Angel pulled the tie out of her hair and slowly ran his fingers through her braided tresses. "I love your hair," he whispered, burying his nose in the long locks.
"I know," she said smugly.
What must have been hours later, Buffy woke groggily to Angel nudging her toward the door. She was sleepy and only half-aware as he bundled her out to the car and drove back to the apartment. Long minutes later, she sighed in relief as she pillowed her head on his chest. Like everything else in her life, this relationship was completely fucked up, but at the moment, she really couldn't be bothered to care about that. Right now she was safe and warm and cuddled in the arms of the man she loved. It couldn't last, but for now, it was enough.
***
TBC
on to part 6