FIC: Ten Things That Pull Apart And One Thing That Holds Together

[lettered]

Title: Ten Things That Pull Apart And One Thing That Holds Together
Length: 3,000 words.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimers: Not mine.
Summary: Snippets of life in a world where B/A are together post-NFA. Devil's always in the details.



i. unfamiliarity

Buffy's still abed. Angel's not. Watching him struggle to pull on his pants (something she's never seen him do, such a human thing) she blurts, "Did you gain weight?"

"I--What?" His eyes are smaller than they used to be.

"It's just . . . you look . . . I thought you couldn't?" Forehead looks like it's gonna crash down like a garage door, Xander said one time. Bury Angel's eyes in folds of flesh.

"Couldn't what?"

"You're like on Atkins, Slimfast style." A high forehead is noble, who was that? said one time, sounds Victorian, Giles-ian. Was Angel still noble?

"Aren't those like those milkshakes things?"

"I mean you only eat like liquid meat," Buffy says. He's different now, with his girthier gut, something paunchier about his face, beefier arms. Did she know him?

"Blood isn't liquid meat."

"They don't use pounds here," she says, sudden shift; "And I still don't know how much a kilo weighs. Everything is different." Would she know him if his wolf-slash cheekbones filled up completely, bulging chipmunkish? If his brow really did stoop down so far that the noble stooped too, stooped to killing and risking everything out of--what was it in that alley, boredom?

"You'll get used to it. Dawn has. She likes it because she thinks she weighs less."

"Italy isn't Jenny Craig. The number's not the same but her weight still is." Would she know him if the weight of the world had smooshed him thick and pudgy, less a man than he was before, buried his eyes? Would she know him if his eyes were buried?

"See? Little things are different," he says."Big things stay the same."

If I were blind, I'd find you, and no one said that, no one at all. It was a dream.


ii. disillusionment

Buffy’s watering the plants. Angel’s taking apart the little attachments on the vaccuum. “You didn’t do behind the couch,” he explains.

“Who’s going to see behind the couch?” Buffy wants to know.

“No one. It’s just, crumbs get down there.”

“But if no one’s going to see, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Angel mutters. He runs the slender arm of the vacuum down along the floorboard behind the couch.

Yesterday, Buffy decided to use American cheese instead of the special cheese the recipe called for. Last week, they missed the ice show because of a batch of particularly nasty demons, and she never did download a recording of it off the internet. She didn’t miss her father, either. Three months ago they’d lost a vamp they were tracking, and she called killing the other dozen, “good enough.” Last year another Slayer had died and she had said, “it happens. It always fucking happens; that’s life.”

Angel’s vacuuming under the cushions in the couch, now, in the crease between the back and seat, and Buffy’s telling him not to. “It doesn’t matter,” she says again.

“It matters,” Angel says again. “What we do.” The cushions feel soft in his hands as he positions them back on the couch.

“We don’t have time. Just do what you can and leave the rest.”

Years ago, Buffy had died. It happened; that was life. She came back and it was good enough.

“I need to dust the table,” Angel says.

“I already did.”

Angel looked at the grayish wood. He liked to use that Endust stuff, the kind that made the wood gleam, the kind that caught the light. Buffy never used that stuff any more. Everything used to be so shiny. Now neither of them could see their reflections in anything around them.


iii. allocation

Buffy's taking forever. Angel hasn't had a chance. "You done yet?"

His voice startles her. "Gah. If I wanted the stuck in a socket look, I'd be done now, thanks."

"You've been in here thirty minutes."

He's snuck up while she's facing mirrorward enough times that it shouldn't surprise her. This is where they really get their style on, Angel stalking and Buffy spazzing, Angel in her life and her not knowing unless she can be in his arms. "Bouncy Buffy hair takes just as long as sticky up hair. But with way less gel."

"I don't take this long. Is the toothpaste gone?"

For a moment of inanity there's no room in here, no room for toothpaste. He's too big in here, no space, shouldering her out until it's just him him him. She takes a breath. "You just have to squeeze it. I don't see why you need a vanity, anyway. I mean, aside from the aptness of what it's called which come on, is the aptist apt."

"So you want me to shave in the kitchen sink? It's my bathroom."

His his his, isn't it, it's always been; he can fit in her life but she can't fit in his. I want my life to be with you, but he didn't. His guilt holds him apart, his poor-tortured-self so separate, his darkness so special he can decide it all. "I thought it was ours."

"I just . . . wish you would squeeze the toothpaste up to the top. It's not that hard."

Can't you let me decide what's best for us Buffy, it's not that hard. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just . . . used to being alone."

Buffy looks into the mirror, at the empty space where he should be. "So am I."


iv. jealousy

Buffy is talking on the phone. Angel never does, himself. She turns from him. "Perfect," she answers. "Should shave my eyebrows off for a real reunion; you'd appreciate that, huh? But I missed him so, so much. It's just nice seeing him."

She's sitting down, standing up, back and forth, crackling energy in every move she makes, tight packed like ass in jeans, like the blond in her hair: electric. Not him; he's dead. But Frankenstein got zapped to life and dead things walk, living out their lives through the ends of cigarettes, bright burning self-extensions. Angel doesn't smoke, himself. Not him.

"Yeah! We have equal feet now." A pause. "Footing. I mean like we're partners now. Before it was always me, Tarzan, him . . . Xander-not-Jane."

Talking overbright, humor backlash to hurt, it was a trick Angel never used himself, and Buffy isn't talking about him. Sometimes he thinks she's a rockstar love, that moment in the lime light love, made-to-fade love, then love her from afar. Not like a song, because he can't sing; not like a poem, because he can't rhyme. He's not interactive, not electric, not burning bright and blond.

He liked the poems, because he likes to listen, loom, father, lord over from afar. He watched the world and when he tried to change it all of it was doodles of her and him, everyone one he's known and loved and created--but not he himself, not Angel, doesn't know what he looks like now.

When Buffy hangs up, Angel fumes, "Does he even ask about me? You and me," he amends.

She scowls and says, "Not everything's about you you know."

He knows. When she catches the scent of cigarette smoke she still tilts her head and looks, looks for someone. Not him.


v. mistrust

Angel leaves a light on so he can email on his computer when Buffy is trying to sleep. Angel writes emails. Angel has a computer.

The "P" in PTB rhymes with T and is not followed by a C. A twohundredsome vampire who’d been to Hell should not get to play with a Dell. It’s just wrong, and the clicking mouse drives her crazy. Whatever happened to eating rodents; that was respectably Anne Rice.

Buffy lies awake, turning her head to stare blankly at the blue glow from the lit screen illuminating the opposite wall. He’s so L.A., now, straight and sleek and tall, like a building, in his designer suits and shoes. She half expects him to slick back his hair, buy a pair of name-brand sunglasses, shiny like law offices. Whatever happened to that velvet jacket?

Buffy covers her face with the pillow, but she can still hear him typing. Something scripted, probably, something stilted and actor-y, something from someone with too tan skin. She half suspects Angel’s a model, a surfer, a martini-flavored businessman with olives and a pro-boner boyfriend, conducting his ventures al fresco. Whatever happened to dust in sunlight?

At Wolfram and Hart they’d had tinted glass, he’d said. They’d had computers too, high tech. They’d had cars, new and latest. They’d had money and power. They’d had means to sell your soul and your mother’s too, and buy evil at the price of blood and wine. Clothes and tanned beauties had been just fringe benefits. He’d stood with the world at his feet in a penthouse suite, basking in the sunlight.

Angel used to prefer the dark.

“God,” Buffy says, sitting up in bed. “God! Angel, can’t you just turn out the stupid light? God, I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Perchance to dream.


vi. control

Buffy’s sitting in the driver’s seat. Angel’s standing at the open car door. “Come on. I want to drive.”

“No.” Buffy’s looking down, playing with the keys, her fuzzy Paris keychain. “It’s my turn.”

“We take turns now?”

“Seems like we have to. Else you’re always the one driving.”

“What’re you talking about?” Angel says. “You drive more than me.”

Buffy just shoves the key into the ignition. The Paris keychain dangles. “What about those nights you go off?”

“I have my own battles to fight. And driving alone doesn’t count.” He leans in, takes the keys. He doesn’t want to argue this outside. Their neighbor left out her dumpster by the curb. The street lamp is buzzing.

“If you can go alone—” Buffy gets out of the car—“why do I even bother?”

“Half the time, you’re out slaying, you don’t even tell me.” Angel presses the keys sharp into his hands. The metal leaves imprints; the fuzz of her keychain wisps across his wrist. “I just want to drive. You can on the way back.”

“I need your permission now?”

“Don’t be like that, Buffy.”

“Give me my key.” Angel hands back her key. She gets back into position behind the wheel, and shoves it in again. She turns it; she revs the gas. Angel is still standing beside her door. “I’m ready; let’s go.”

“I don’t feel like going any more.”

She rolls her eyes, doesn’t stop the car. “You can drive on the way back.”

“No.”

“Is that what you’re going to do now, sulk?”

She looks good, ready for it, hands on the wheel, power at her back. “You speed,” he tells her at last.

“You never know where we’re going,” she snaps back.

“I want to drive.”

The car stays in the driveway.


vii. banality

The sheet wafts up into the sunlight over their laughter, until Buffy snaps the white corners together and steps to meet Angel’s folded ends. Still laughing, he kisses her as she pushes her creases against his. They’d had to wash the sheets because of too much jizz and icecream. She should be happy.

“Why’d you wash this shirt?” she asks. “Wasn’t dirty.”

“It’s very dirty. Why it looks hot as hell on you.” He’s getting the clothes out of the dryer to come put on the table. He should be getting her clothes off of her to make her come on the table. He’s teasing her, dangling her bra from a finger. They’re going out tonight and he’s going to get lucky. He should be happy.

“Changed my mind.” Smirks. “Like you clean.” Brings a pair of panties to his nose—“Tide fresh.”

“Now you sound like Spike. ‘Cept he really did like me dirty.”

He should roar, caveman style. Should climb across the table and claim her. Should be hunting Spike down. Instead, Angel stands there staring. Then he looks down to neatly fold her panties, mouth tight.

“Shit,” Buffy says. She’s fluffed pillowcase out to fold, and now its gone and knocked the vase off the sideboard. She steps forward, leans down, cuts her thumb on a piece of glass.

Angel rushes over and scrunches the pillowcase to staunch the blood, winding it around her hand. “It’s okay. Just a scratch. Why are you crying?”

He should be leaning down to lick the blood. He should be fazing into gameface. He should be drinking her down. He should have lost his soul by now. She should want to die. The world should be over. “The pillowcase,” she says. “It’s stained now.”

“We’ll just do another load,” he says.


viii. repression

Buffy's eating. Angel's not. "You alright?" he asks.

"Mmph?" wiping fingers, "Yeah, good."

"We could talk about it." He loves to watch her eat; her glossy, pouting lips kiss each bite.

"It what? Oh, Giles. I wonder if in England IVs are tea-and-scone flavored."

Angel waits. "What about tweed hospital gowns?" When it's him there's usually not that gentle kiss, that exploration, that slow acceptance; she opens her mouth and inhales, sucks his tongue, sometimes his cock, like she wants to swallow, taking him in like there's no--well, no time in the world.

She shrugs. "Got other things to worry about. Like how we could hit the non-Catholic cemetary tonight; you know how the vamps like those dead romance-y guys."

"Yes. Okay." She used to eat like that, too. Used to shove it all in with teenager eagerness, like there wasn't enough yogurt and tuna-burgers in the world.

"I'm really getting tired of the poetry puns though. If one more of them calls me 'darkling' their heart's going to leap up onto my stake."

"Wouldn't it anyway?" Talked the whole time too, stream-of-teenager, like she couldn't not tell him; talked while eating, sometimes showing half-chewed french fries, like she couldn't not show him everything inside of her, teenager grace.

"Yeah, but--Wordsworth? Aren't you impressed? Clever poetry-knowing Buffy? . . . Angel?"

"I wish you'd talk about what's wrong." Chews close-mouthed now, so adult, keeping it all in. Talks the same way too. She'll open her mouth to swallow down his dick but never hardly ever to take him inside.

"Okay, you want it? Want to know? I hate how you watch me eat. It's annoying; I go all Emily Post; why don't you just leave me alone instead of always watching me?"

On the outside, looking in.


ix. estrangement

"You got her an i-pod?” Buffy asks, huffing air. Shouldn’t’ve gotten pink balloons. Dawn’s favorite color’s green, now.

"Yes.” Angel is hanging streamers. “Don’t we need cake?"

“We’re doing tacos. Isn’t that expensive?” Used to be Buffy’d give everything she had. Then she’d given up her life and come back to less, and ever since then she’d been savvier with give and take. She stops blowing before the balloon gets too full, and starts in on another. “I-pods, I mean. How do you even know what an i-pod is?”

“It’s her graduation. She should have cake. And i-pods. She’s wanted one for months.”

“She never told me.” Used to be Dawn was hers, no one to worry about the money but her, no one to worry about the cake and tacos and balloons but her. Angel shouldn’t be a part of that. Angel couldn’t even fill up his lungs, much less balloons.

“Maybe she thought you’d say it’s too expensive.”

Used to push her air into his mouth, used to blow his cock, and it almost made him breathe. She used to make his heart beat. “I’m not the one here funny about money.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“All you care about.” She used to be the only thing he cared about. Only one he took care of, loved, hated himself for. Used to be he was hers.

“We have to be careful with money. It can . . . it can do stuff like. . . buy clothes. Send a kid to college . . . something."

He didn’t used to have a son. Didn’t use to have to pay to forget the ones he loved. “You’re stingy.”

“Look who’s talking. Quit the bitchfest, Buffy.”

He didn’t used to quote Cordelia.

He used to give her everything he’d had.


x. love

“Feels like home again,” Angel says, walking through the graves.

“Grass is getting my skirt wet,” Buffy says. “Should’ve driven.”

“You mean you should’ve,” Angel says.

“The reason we didn’t is so you wouldn’t start this.”

“You start it. You say when, you say—”

“You boss me around in the bathroom.”

“If you’d clean the damn thing.”

“You—Get down!” Buffy yells. Angel ducks. Two vampires come out of the bushes. “We’re fighting here.” Buffy socks one in the nose and knees its groin. “Couple bickering, not end of the world fighting.”

“One’s more lethal than the other.” Angel uppercuts the other. “You should know by now not to interrupt,” he tells the vampire, and pushes it into Buffy’s stake. As it falls to dust, Angel flips Buffy over his back, catapulting her at the other vampire, landing in a pile of dust. “Sorry,” Angel says, pulling her up and kissing her.

“Me too.” Strong arms wrap around his neck, then roughly push him into a tree so she can whirl to stake the last vamp he hadn’t seen coming, her hair a fanning sprinkler of yellow, muscles moving over each other supple and smooth.

Slumped up against the tree, he grabs her by the wrist. “C’mere. God, I love you. God.”

Frantic heat, Buffy’s ruined skirt and Angel too hard later, Buffy says, “You were right. Feels like home.” She shifts. “You know, without the bed. If we’d driven, we could be in it already.”

“Not like bed’s that comfortable. You never make it; it’s a rag heap.”

“Maybe because you kick in your sleep.”

“Vampire don’t kick. You snore.”

“I hate the sheets you picked out.”

“God,” Angel says again, “I can’t wait to make love to you.”

“Neither can I. Grass stains come out, you know.”

Comments

[chrisleeoctaves.livejournal.com]

I had a heart palpitation when I saw this....can't wait to read....omg....squeeeeee.

[ba4ever.livejournal.com]

I squeed when I saw this post!

Now I've just got done reading it.

I loved it, it was depressing, and angsty and sad, but cute out their little bickerings and just everyday normal human stuff. They can fight over stuff - cuz they're both alphas, isn't that fun? *G*, the end of the world comes and goes, but in the end, they still love each other. Even though they can be jealous, banal, repressive, estranged, disalluison, unfamiliar.....

I love these little snippets! You should do MORE! SQUEE! Great job.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

cuz they're both alphas, isn't that fun?

That's exactly something I wanted to examine: lots of people say B/A doesn't work post-NFAs because they're so controlling. I do think it would present a lot of problems, but I'm not sure it's enough to drive them apart. I know it's possible to always love someone but not be able to be with them/live with them, but I think that if Buffy and Angel got a chance at that happiness they'd grab it.

I'm so glad it worked for you! I'm all done with these; there won't be more...judging by what you say I got my point across ;o) Thanks so much!

So glad it worked for you.

[canadiangirl-86.livejournal.com]

This was SO fabulous and felt like such a unique story idea. It's just completely real and I love that about it.

I have to say my favourite is control. You covered both their personalities so beautifully in that short piece. They're both such goddamn stubborn, alpha characters that you know that car ain't goin' anywhere.

Seeing the two in day-to-day life is...uncomfortable in many ways. All the problems and resentments that can just creep up on someone in a relationship is unnerving, especially for two people who love each other as much as these two do. But with that last part, you brought it all back to what's really important. They love each other despite all that and that's all there is to it.

Brilliant!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I have to say my favourite is control. You covered both their personalities so beautifully in that short piece. They're both such goddamn stubborn, alpha characters that you know that car ain't goin' anywhere.

That's kinda where I started with this piece, as I told ba4ever above--they're both alphas and I wanted to see how that would be a problem. In most of the other ones, the little domestic difficulties are paired up with larger relationship problems, but in this I thought the metaphor was obvious: who gets to drive, who gets to be on top.

Seeing the two in day-to-day life is...uncomfortable in many ways. All the problems and resentments that can just creep up on someone in a relationship is unnerving, especially for two people who love each other as much as these two do.

That's exactly what I was going for, so glad it worked for you. The point of B/A to me is that it's about two people who love each other enough to overcome lots of obstacles. They overcame Hell and evil and all kinds of things...not sure they could overcome whose toothbrush is whose, but I like to think they could.

Thanks so much for the thoughtful fb.

[tinpanalley.livejournal.com]

As everyone above has said, the most wonderful part about this piece is the “slice of life” aspect. It shows that no matter how much people love each other, complications and arguments sneak into any relationship. It was interesting to see how Buffy and Angel dealt with those problems, their inability to give in to each other and their tendancy to avoid the real issues. But, it was also really nice to see them come together at the end; proving that their love is strong and can withstand a lot.

Very well done!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad the things I was trying to do with this came through. I like to think B/A post NFA could work, but undoubtably they would often be unhappy.

Thanks so much for your thoughtful comments!

[femmenerd.livejournal.com]

Fuck. But I loved this. How you made them real, showed how apocalypses and curses and destiny aren't the only things that can make loving hard.

And holy shit was the payoff something else. Because you led us there, so slowly and with such acrobatic words, and then splooosh, you just get it there in the last part--how someone you love totally crazy-much can drive you batshit insane a lot of the time. And that doubts and cracks and shadows can be there at the same time as big, big love.

[femmenerd.livejournal.com]

But this sentence: Frantic heat, Buffy’s ruined skirt and Angel too hard later, Buffy says, “You were right. Feels like home.” It confuses me. Am I not getting something? Should there be a sentence break after "hard?"

[bashipforever.livejournal.com]

awww really loved this. I like how they bicker and how everything pushes them apart yet as always they come back together again. Lovely job

[tkp.livejournal.com]

That's exactly what I was going for! Thanks so much.

[chrisleeoctaves.livejournal.com]

There were some really startling moments in this-

The weird juxstaposition of metaphysics with vacuuming:
“It matters,” Angel says again. “What we do.” The cushions feel soft in his hands as he positions them back on the couch."

The fact that they can't navigate sharing the bathroom- his lack of reflection suddenly an issue, the way he squeezes the toothpaste.

The ghost of old lovers and want-to-be-lovers:
She scowls and says, "Not everything's about you you know."

He knows. When she catches the scent of cigarette smoke she still tilts her head and looks, looks for someone. Not him.

The laundry scene really resonated with me; the clean, white sheets; sullied by a misplaced word and her blood and the reminder of what he is.

The passion that sustains them.
“Not like bed’s that comfortable. You never make it; it’s a rag heap.”

“Maybe because you kick in your sleep.”

“Vampire don’t kick. You snore.”

“I hate the sheets you picked out.”

“God,” Angel says again, “I can’t wait to make love to you.”

In some ways I found this fic remote- or not easily accessible. On another level, though, it was perfectly elliptical- slices of the ordinary lives that can't be lead by two extraordinary people because it's hard enough to navigate the crap when you're just an average person. I guess that's what makes it so poignant, in the end: could Buffy and Angel ever come to this place- doing laundry and dusting? And I guess we like our heroes to be just that and it's hard to imagine them having to 'live' with the details.

So, lovely, this.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

In some ways I found this fic remote- or not easily accessible.

It was in some respects more meta than a character piece. I got the idea for it after I did that big WHY I LOVE B/A post and a few different people mentioned they just thought B/A were too alpha to work out together. This is my response; I think it can work because in the end, love can win out over all those things. Not saying it will, but that's why I love B/A--there's that hope there.

And I guess we like our heroes to be just that and it's hard to imagine them having to 'live' with the details.

The other reason I wrote this fic was a meta I read about fandoms so often being centered around "apocalyptic" events that writing about the characters leaving the cap off the toothpaste would be missing the point. But I think the deal with Buffy and Angel is their hearts are in the right place--they're both heroic, they're both leaders, they both love with timeless intensity. It's the little things that would really catch up with them, I think. Anyway, thanks so much for seeing that. Glad you liked it!

The other reason I wrote this

[lynnenne]

That? Was awesome. This is a *real* relationship, solid and everyday, something that Buffy and Angel never had a chance at. God knows, I'm not a huge B/A fan, I have my doubts they could ever make it work--but you make me believe they could.

I don't see why you need a vanity, anyway. I mean, aside from the aptness of what it's called which come on, is the aptist apt.

Hahahaha! This is fantastic Buffy-speak.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just . . . used to being alone."

Buffy looks into the mirror, at the empty space where he should be. "So am I."

Awwwwww. I hear you, Buffy.

I love the bickering over who should drive; I love the language you use (if his wolf-slash cheekbones filled up completely, bulging chipmunkish? If his brow really did stoop down so far that the noble stooped too); I love the contrast between how Buffy used to be and how she is now. I love your writing. Great job.

Now write me some Spike/Angel pron. Hee!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you approve, especially since I know you're not a B/A fan. I tend to agree with a lot of reasons you've stated in the past about why they wouldn't make it work . . . but a part of me likes to think that while those problems would be real and fierce and often lead them to be discontent more often than happy, they would stick it out just because they love each other so damn much.

I love the contrast between how Buffy used to be and how she is now.

Glad that came through. I think part of the reason Angel loved Buffy is her innocence, the way she does good not just because it needs to be done but because that's what she is, the way she goes on when things are hopeless because there's nothing else to do. I think a lot of that Buffy dies off, and I think in B/A post NFA Angel would sometimes wonder whether the Buffy he'd really loved wasn't dead in Glory's portal after all.

Anyway, thanks! Writing compliments mean so much coming from you!

I wrote some! But it's in a big huge fic I haven't finished yet.

[violaclaire.livejournal.com]

I loved this. So many B/A future fics--especially the ones that focus on the mundane details of their lives--are ultra-fluffy, which is nice, but rarely thought-provoking. This, though, is gorgeous. I love the slow build-up to the last piece, although the first nine broke my heart a little, especially,

Talking overbright, humor backlash to hurt, it was a trick Angel never used himself, and Buffy isn't talking about him. Sometimes he thinks she's a rockstar love, that moment in the lime light love, made-to-fade love, then love her from afar. Not like a song, because he can't sing; not like a poem, because he can't rhyme. He's not interactive, not electric, not burning bright and blond.

which is very true and very Angel, and

Buffy lies awake, turning her head to stare blankly at the blue glow from the lit screen illuminating the opposite wall. He’s so L.A., now, straight and sleek and tall, like a building, in his designer suits and shoes. She half expects him to slick back his hair, buy a pair of name-brand sunglasses, shiny like law offices. Whatever happened to that velvet jacket?

--partially because I usually think of that velvet jacked as wildly OOC (it always strikes me as something Oscar Wilde would wear), but this is making me consider the idea that the Angel that would wear that jacket--that ridiculous, twitchy, S1 Angel--is somehow less affected than the Angel of later seasons. Or is more real to Buffy, because that's how she first knew him.

And I love how you take all of those banal, petty arguments that couples have every day, and without flinching away from the reality of the fights show very simply that they're not deal-breakers. Beautiful.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you felt there was a build up--I spent a loooong time determining the order of these snippets, and wanted the last one to feel just as real as the other ones.

artially because I usually think of that velvet jacked as wildly OOC (it always strikes me as something Oscar Wilde would wear), but this is making me consider the idea that the Angel that would wear that jacket--that ridiculous, twitchy, S1 Angel--is somehow less affected than the Angel of later seasons. Or is more real to Buffy, because that's how she first knew him.

crazydiamondsue is writing a funny parody fic, Welcome to the Wheels o' Rama, in which Buffy thinks Angel is ultra-cool in his velvet jacket because the fic is set in the 80's. I think the velvet jacket is great for S1 Angel because velvet has had several flings, especially 70s-80s, in which it was "cool" for certain groups. Not realizing it'd gone out of style, Angel carefully buys all kinds of velvet and garish pink lipstick (his make-up artist is always amazingly bad with his lips) and thinks he's gonna look all decked out for Buffy. Instead she thinks he's a little dorky, which turns her on more because he manages to be a total fashion reject and at the same time really hot (and the same can be said for S1 Buffy).

without flinching away from the reality of the fights show very simply that they're not deal-breakers.

Exactly what I was going for, thank you!

[makd.livejournal.com]

Took me awhile to catch up, but it was WELL worth the wait.

delicious, sharp, funny, neat.

another fabulous fic. thanks!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[timeofchange.livejournal.com]

Beautifully done. You are one of my absolute favorite B/A writers. You make their relationship real and meaningful, and your writing is so excellent that I can find the humanity and universal truths in all of your stories...not a small feat when one is writing about slayers and vampires. So, yes. Well done.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Those things are what I loved about AtS/BtVS--even though they were about vampires!--so your words mean a lot. Thank you so much.

[semby.livejournal.com]

This was awesome. I love how each one starts out as such a simple, everyday, coupley squabble and in the next line you're hitting us with something so much deeper, something that could only be true for Angel and Buffy. From “You didn’t do behind the couch,” to “It matters,” Angel says again. “What we do.” - damn! And squabbling over the toothpaste and driving. Fantastic. I loved this, truly.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I wasn't sure whether the "something deeper" aspect would work--we're annoyed by both big things and little things in the ones we love and rarely connect them. I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks!

[stoney321.livejournal.com]

You know those really hot Saturday afternoons when the world seems like it's nothing but concrete, glass and power lines, and the sun is so bright, it's like the air is stretched shiny tight and it hurts to look? That's the atmosphere of this series, in my head. Shiny ultra yellow. That makes a lot of sense in my head.

This whole thing is like sunshine imaginings while Buffy lays out at a pool and her eyelids are red and orange, you know? The one where Buffy's on the phone and Angel's thinking theirs is like a rockstar love - that's an awesome concept. Too bright, not gonna last, full of selfish need and want and excitement and loudbangcrash.

It's interesting (to me only, I'm sure) that I'm connecting to this whole thing by how it feels, by images - usually I connect to your words. I really like how true it is that Buffy and Angel would have a hard time making room for each other in their lives. All the little moments you have them shoving and elbowing and sighing - that's why they didn't have them together on the show, you know? Because it would BE this.

And in case I'm not being clear, this is awesome meta-fic.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Glad it worked for you! I don't tend to think in images, but if I were to for this I'd come up with images pretty much diametrically opposed to yours, which is interesting in and of it itself. But I do think that B/A could work together; I think that they would still be happier together than without. But this was definitely supposed to analyze the problems they would have, and I'm so glad you liked it. Thanks!

[a2zmom.livejournal.com]

I really love this. The everyday annoyances that are what relationships are actually all about.

First, an aside. One of the things that bugs me no end is people saying they could never work because they are both alphas. Let me tell you about Ken. Ken shared my office in a firm I used to work for. Ken was possibly the most alpha type A personality I've ever met. Ken once almost got into a fistfight at a meeting because he disagreed with someone about the proposed design for a portfolio system. (Best meeting I've ever attended). Ken eventually left the firm to move on to greener pastures.

I eventually met an account manager named Susan. Susan terrified everyone with her high strung alpha ways. It was her way or no way. You already know the punch line. Yes, they were married. Apparently, they spent a fair amount of time throwing things at each other during their knock down epic battles. But it seemed to work for them.

Back to your fic. A lot of the issues you present here I don't see as being an issue because they both are leaders. No one in their right mind would willingly get in a car with Buffy, even if a car crash is unlikely to kill them. And Angel is overly neat, so lots of room for fighting there also. But, as you show, they love each other, so at the end of the day, that overrides a lot of other stuff.

Plus, as a long time married person, I speak from personal experiance when I say eventually, you grumble about the toothpaste being squeezed in the middle to yourself. You pick your battles and a lot of the small stuff you ignore. And I suspect, that's what would happen to them over time.

(Plus Angel seems to prefer alpha women. Darla and Cordelia didn't boss him around? Please.)

The one section here that I found heartbreaking was Repression. It makes me sad to think that she can't even talk to him, at least Buffy used to be able to do that.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, people who love each other very much and seem as though they should fit very well simply cannot live together/be with each other. And sometimes, people who seem like they should be tearing each other apart do just fine, in their own way. I would never say there wouldn't be problems with B/A, but I like to think they could work it out. I guess it's the hope that's there for them that really attracts me to the ship.

No one in their right mind would willingly get in a car with Buffy, even if a car crash is unlikely to kill them.

Buffy is a bad driver in canon, and I like to think that she remains that way. But the truth is I was a terrible driver when I started out, and I have much less coordination and commone sense than Buffy. For this fic I wanted to suggest that this was an issue of control, not life threatening terror, because of course who "drives" is a metaphor for sex. Having never been in a long term relationship, I don't know how this works out, but I would think both Buffy and Angel would want to top a lot. There's probably a lot of fighting in their sex.

You pick your battles and a lot of the small stuff you ignore.

This is what I've seen with my parents. That stuff never gets resolved. It also never is cause for deciding they can't live with each other.

It makes me sad to think that she can't even talk to him, at least Buffy used to be able to do that.

I like to think that eventually, she would open up to him again. But I do think it would take a lot of work, and that there would be a lot of resistance, and a lot of frustration on Angel's part.

I'm so glad you enjoyed this, because I always respect your views on B/A tremendously.

[my_daroga]

This just made me... really sad. They deserve better. Of course, you highlight the spots you need to get your point across (which you did), and we don't see the inbetweens which are good enough to keep them going. But set apart like this, it all seems to pointless and final. Which every relationship has (a bit like watching Closer, in which you only see the beginnings and ends and honestly none of the relationships made sense to me because I never saw them being themselves, just playing parts that didn't seem worth it to me; but here I've got the background so I'm not only seeing what you've written, but how it fits in).

Bah. Rambling.

I liked that their personal quirks were such that I "sided" with each of them at different times. There's no villain, just two sides. Or one. Whatever. The first snippit, with the "would she know him if his eyes were buried?" was disturbing and I liked the surreal effect of it, laying in bed letting your thoughts drift.

I'd quote more but for some reason I can't cut-and-paste in LJ anymore; when I try to select text it selects the entire page.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

But set apart like this, it all seems to pointless and final.

I wondered about that. Some people've said this gives them some hope for B/A (even people who weren't B/Aers), and others seem to've said this makes it obvious B/A would never last. Though I always hold out hope they could make it together and achieve enough happiness for it to be worth it, this piece is also about that fact that the odds for that aren't necessarily good, and it would be a lot of hard work.

I liked that their personal quirks were such that I "sided" with each of them at different times. There's no villain, just two sides.

I'm SO glad you said that. I went through and marked who I sided with in each so that it would even out, but there were some in which I worried made Buffy especially out to be bitchy. Although Angel-bashers write lots of evil!apathetic!jerky!Angel, there's generally not as much of it as there is bitchy!Buffy bashing, and I just can't STAND that; it makes me sick. And sad. I think that a lot of times in a relationship, it's not any one person's fault.

I'm so glad you read this and appreciated it. I really value your opinions.

[omnie.livejournal.com]

Ooh, that was lovely. You're one of those people who's really good at putting words together and giving them meaning. I love how everything in this story means so much, all these little moments that cast big shadows. I think it works well as a shift-of-perspective sort of relationship story, where you start focusing on all these little annoyances, but snap out of it and realize that the good parts outweigh them immeasurably (heh, I've been there, more than once, which is probably why I'm reading it like that). It's interesting that here, all we see are the problems, until the last piece makes it clear that there are so many happy, love-filled moments that we haven't been shown. Nifty.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I think it works well as a shift-of-perspective sort of relationship story, where you start focusing on all these little annoyances, but snap out of it and realize that the good parts outweigh them immeasurably

I'm glad it worked for you that way! That's really how I feel about how B/A would be, but this fic was a lot more explicit about the bad things than the good (as you say). A few found it proof that B/A wouldn't last, but a lot found it reassuring, and I do too.

You're one of those people who's really good at putting words together and giving them meaning.

Thanks so much! I tried really hard to make each word important by limiting the words on each section. I'm glad that showed through.

Thanks again for reading, and for letting me know you liked!

[stultiloquentia.livejournal.com]

I skimmed through the other comments. The range of opinions on this piece is fascinating: Beautiful! Depressing! Validating! Doom-harbinging!

Personally, I love it. I always love your stuff, it's so *interesting*, but this one -- just -- gah. I'm in line with femmenerd, I think; it's the ordinary, domestic, peculiar details of any relationship that make it beautiful, beautiful because of and in spite of its frustrations. You make me believe B/A could work, because you don't prettify it. Instead, you take every last anti-shipper argument I could throw at you and say, "Well, yes. Duh," and proceed to turn it to your advantage. I'm kind of in awe.

You write the most poetic banality I've ever seen.

I've grumbled at you before for using absolutely virtuosic language, but too much of it, so tangling your story's thread. This piece, IMO, is beautifully edited. It retains the richness of your thought, your talent for constructing symbols and metaphors, but it's lucid and clean. Brava.

I think the laundry-folding scene is my favourite, because the picture is so crisp and simple, but you can zoom in on any detail and the secondary meanings just snap into focus. White sheets, innocent beds. Panties, sexuality, sniffed at, folded away. Broken vessel. Stains and washing and starting over, no matter many times it takes before the sheets are clean and soft and comfortable.

Oh my good God, your Buffy voice is to die for. Not only her humour, but what she uses her humour *for*.

I thought of a quote:

"...So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance..."

from 'The Weighing', Jane Hirshfield

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Well, you already know your fb on this made me all gooshy inside. "I'm kind of in awe." from you just kinda made me wibble.

And I tried really really hard not to jumble my words all up, so I'm all shiny-cheeked and round-eyed that you noticed. Thank you.

Oh my good God, your Buffy voice is to die for. Not only her humour, but what she uses her humour *for*.

I love it when people say this, because I channel a lot of me voice into my Buffy voice. I fell in love with her first because of her wit, and I'm proud that I can hit that, so thanks again, so much!

"...So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance..."


Exactly what I was going for. Except that I could almost post this instead of the fic and it would've been exactly everything I wanted to say!

Thanks again for your kind words.

[yhlee.livejournal.com]

This is wonderful--the hard work and detail that goes into a relationship, with glimmery glimpses of the we-were-young (because Angel was young in so many ways when he met Buffy) grand romance of yesteryear. It's love that doesn't pull punches. It's pain. It's promises. It makes me happy.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

because Angel was young in so many ways when he met Buffy

I just love that. He gave her little "love me" rings, for chrissake.

I'm so glad this worked for you, because I really respect things of yours I've read. So thanks again for the rec and thanks for this.

[ares132006.livejournal.com]

Sorry, I am *very* late to this fic and discussion. I love all of it, although at the beginning I was nervous.
Buffy's still abed. Angel's not. Watching him struggle to pull on his pants (something she's never seen him do, such a human thing) she blurts, "Did you gain weight?"

"I--What?" His eyes are smaller than they used to be.

I thought, what is going on here? Am I going to be able to read this? Is it too sad, will Angel be human, will Buffy not love him? However, knowing that *you* wrote this, and I love your work, I continued. And was rewarded with a wonderful look into a possible future of how it could be for both of our lovers. I mean, the Happily Ever After, really isn't, is it?


"So you want me to shave in the kitchen sink? It's my bathroom."

His his his, isn't it, it's always been; he can fit in her life but she can't fit in his. I want my life to be with you, but he didn't. His guilt holds him apart, his poor-tortured-self so separate, his darkness so special he can decide it all. "I thought it was ours."

I love this, all of it but I would be quoting everything in the fic so I won't. :~)

Guilt-ridden, tortured Angel is my fav. He is all that in Buffy's eyes, and yet it is still the small things that drive each other crazy. And the big things. The Spike things, Connor and Dawn. Driving, vacuuming, washing, I mean, even heroes have to do all those mundane chores.

Another wonderful fic from you. Why am I not surprised?

Hugs

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Heh--well, I'm late getting back to you! Sorry, but you shouldn't be. *scrubs face* does that make sense? It's 1 am.

As I said in a different post recently, when I was thinking about who might enjoy this I was thinking non-B/Aers as opposed to B/Aers. I'm *so* pleased that so many B/Aers liked it too, and found it affirming re: their ship, because in the end, what I love about B/A is that all these problems do exist but I think they would love each other anyway, that it would never be enough to drive them apart. *sniffle*

I mean, even heroes have to do all those mundane chores.

That was also something I was going for. I don't think about Buffy sniping about bathroom space, or Angel flipping out about cleaning very much. But what's so cool about these characters is they are real people, with everyday issues, and on top of that they also have to do apocalypse. It was one thing I really respect about BtVS S6.

Thanks so much for your--as always--very kind words.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

A2Z pointed me to this fic. It's... wow. The little things are always the most important, aren't they? I love each of them, mostly because of the end. What can I say? I'm still a happy-ending girl. ;) Thank yous o much!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I definitely love B/A for their issues, because what's so great about the 'ship is I think their love can overcome them.

[callmesandy.livejournal.com]

This was utterly awesome. It's so hard to find such great established relationship fanfic and this is the definition of awesome. Awesome!

[tkp.livejournal.com]

I think that any established relationships with characters in Jossverse would still have just as much going on--both earthshattering and banal. Glad you liked this peek, and thanks for letting me know!

[m-phoenix.livejournal.com]

That was wonderful. I'm a bit tired and therefore not terrible eloquent, which is a shame because this really does deserve praise, and it deserves to be quoted etc. It moved me. I've never seen the B/A relationship written quite like that before, and then I think yeah, that makes perfect sense, how would they deal with being together day after day? How would all those little niggling things that never come up in great romantic sweeping stories about heros, start to bug them, start to break them down? Right from the first paragraphs where Buffy is watching Angel pulling on his trousers, and thinking about his new bulkier physique, you drew me in and kept me watching, caring. You made the mudane sad and resonant and meaningful because everything from Angel hovering, to them arguing about toothpaste, said so much about the people they are. God, your writing is so spare and poetic and just different. ::loves:: I have to admit that I'm glad it ended where it did -- with a little hope, a reminder of love and passion. Plus there should be more graveyard sex in the Buffyverse, you can never have enough muddy, grass-stained, post slayage graveyard sex.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

It is such a treat to get fb for older things! Thanks so much!

How would all those little niggling things that never come up in great romantic sweeping stories about heros

That was exactly the point of this...someone had said that we never write about our characters brushing their teeth, because so many of our fandoms are apocalyptic. Well, Buffyverse *is*, but that doesn't mean there can't be tooth brushing. Because even the smallest things are a big part of us.

I have to admit that I'm glad it ended where it did -- with a little hope, a reminder of love and passion.

I'm glad. What I love about B/A is that there *are* so many ways in which they don't work out, but in the end, it just doesn't matter. I really believe that the strength with which they love each other would be strong and long lasting enough to overcome anything.

you can never have enough muddy, grass-stained, post slayage graveyard sex.

Agreed!

Thank you so much for this. You've really made my day.

[only-passenger.livejournal.com]

there is no way to type how good i think you are.

i know: it's hard to believe anyone could like our writing that much. so we undercut the positive feedback a little bit in our minds, bring it down to a size we can buy into so we're able to accept the compliments and feel good about our accomplishments. we need to do that.

there have been multiple instances of your writing keeping me up at night doing the brain-spin. and i'd forgo fancy coffee and running the a/c in my car all summer to save up for a tkp "how to write fantastic shit" seminar were one offered in my area. and i get dry-mouthed-stunned after reading your fic because i don't think i know anyone, my mother, son, sister, best-friend-since-childhood or lover-of-six-years included, as well as you demonstrate knowing these characters in only a few short paragraphs. when i type these things, please try to hear the honesty that doesn't translate past my keyboard. because i can pretty much guarantee you that the amount of i-dig-your-stories going on for me surpasses the amount of i-dig-your-stories you hope (but whole-heartedly doubt) might possibly be going on for folks who read you.

gah! i can't even...!

i seriously can't even. too awestruck.

[tkp.livejournal.com]

That's...the nicest fb I've ever gotten.

I tend to be quite arrogant about my writing ;o) I.e. I believe every nice thing people say about it! But, I know exactly what you mean, because I've read a thing or two that made me want to shake an author and say, no, you can have no idea of how you affect me, you really don't. And so to have someone say that to me is--well, it's what I want to do with my writing, and writing is what I want to do with my life, and--and so.

Thanks for what you say about knowing the characters. I don't know anyone that well irl, either. Sometimes I have a problem with that, and think it can't be healthy, but getting close to characters in fiction can sometimes be a way of understanding and touching real poeple, so, I try.

About that seminar. I heartily believe there should be a Fandom University where we can all come and learn from each other about writing. Too bad there isn't! In lieu of that, if you ever want to talk about writing, want to discuss, need a beta, feel like throwing ideas and prose around, my door is always open and you can comment with thoughts or email me any time.

Thanks so much for what you say, and what you can't even say. I can't even say how much this comment touched me. (((hugs)))