It's Buffy's birthday - and Gunn's going to make sure she enjoys it... Buffy/Gunn
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to take them out and play with them sometimes.
She moved so carefully, so quietly, that there was really no reason for him to wake up. He did, though. Every time.
She was fully dressed by the time he reached out and flicked on the light, the backpack full of weapons already slung over one shoulder. "Go back to sleep," she said softly, smiling at his rumpled expression.
Gunn rubbed his eyes. "I get eight hours regular. You're the one who should be coming back to bed. The world won't end if you take some time off, you know."
She raised her eyebrows at him, saying nothing.
"Well, yeah, okay, but last weekend was an anomaly. I still blame Giles for misreading that scroll. And there are no prophecies at all for today, we all know that. It's been /triple/-checked. Come back to bed."
He shifted the sheet down and over a little, apparently trying to add a little visual encouragement to the verbal. She paused, tempted for a second, then sighed. "I can't. There's too much to do. Those Ragganall demons are - "
He sat up. "Buffy, those Ragganall demons are three inches across and covered in pink fur. What are they going to do, cute people to death?"
"So they're not exactly the scariest thing we've ever faced. But you saw how fast they're breeding. They're like -" She broke off, her eyes falling on the shelf that housed his Star Trek DVD collection. "Tribbles. And you know how that turned out. A single night off could see us over-run by the morning. Which means that people will see them, and realise that demons exist - or, no, actually they'll probably think that they're aliens or a botched government biological weapons experiment - and then the entire population of L.A. will freak out and start stockpiling food and guns and you'll have nationwide panic within a week, there'll be a national emergency declared and the army will come stomping all over everything and people will be fighting and murdering and eating each other and it'll be the end of civilisation as we know it." She folded her arms as she looked at him. "You want that on your conscience?"
"Thought not," she said, and blew him a kiss as she walked out the door.
There weren't many times you could say L.A. was peaceful, but it was in these early hours of the morning that it came closest. The vamps - not that there were too many of them left these days, since Slayerschool hit town - were all safely tucked away and the humans weren't yet out in force. Buffy smiled, spotting a small Barbie-coloured ball skitter up a drainpipe. Just her and the Ragganalls.
"Here, cutie cute," she called, bending down to check out the pipe. "Come to Buffy."
There was a sudden, loud whooshing sound behind her, and a crack of blue light. "Damn," she said, as the light settled over her in tight, restrictive bands. "When did they learn how to do that?"
Then the light went out, and so did everything else.
Willow picked up the backpack lying abandoned on the ground. "I've got her stuff," she said into her cell phone. "Xander, it's up to you and the girls now. Faith knows what to do."
She hung up, and turned to face Gunn. "Go," she said. "I don't know how much time there is left."
He nodded. "Thanks, Willow. I really appreciate you coming all this way to help me out with this."
She waved her hand, smiling. "It's okay. When Buffy needs us, we come. That's how it works. Now go."
He grinned, kissed her cheek, and took off running.
She woke lying on her back on a soft, yielding surface. She tried to roll, tried to sit up, tried to do anything - but to no avail. Her body was frozen and unresponsive. Even her eyelids wouldn't move.
She lay still, ears straining to catch any sounds. She could hear water running, but nothing else. No voices, no movement.
Finally, there was a touch on her shoulder: fingers lightly tracing over her skin. She tensed, willing her muscles to obey her. Willing her body to fight. She wasn't going to just lie here and let someone stroke her, slide warm hands over her collarbone and up the back of her neck, massage the stiffness away with a touch that was - that was -
That was familiar.
Lips nibbled her ear. "It's okay, baby. It'll be wearing off any second now, just - "
And with that, she could move. She rolled to her side, her hands reaching out to find a smooth, naked chest. She twisted, grabbing Gunn's shoulders and flipping him over, pinning him to the bed.
The soft, satin-sheeted four-poster bed. In the centre of a room that was twice the size of their apartment and had a huge table all laid out with platters of food, cinnamon-scented candles and flowers. An ice bucket sat in the middle, a bottle of champagne resting snugly inside.
She stared at him. "What. The. /Hell?/"
He grinned. "There are oysters, champagne and the biggest chocolate fudge cake you've ever seen over there on the table. Your bath is running and room service are going to be on permanent standby all day. Faith has brought her crew up on a field trip to take care of the Ragganall problem. Dawn is fielding your calls, Giles is taking your classes and Willow - oh, she said she hoped that binding spell didn't pinch too much - has warded the room six ways to Sunday. Nobody's getting in -" He paused, and kicked the sheet off the bed - "or out of here until tomorrow night."
She allowed him to pull her down towards him, but her expression stayed incredulous. "You planned all this."
His hands slid slowly down her shoulders, pulling the straps of her top along with them. "Serious workaholics require serious solutions. You are going to have some good old-fashioned Buffy time. You've earned it, you need it, and you're going to have it - even if I have to kidnap you to get it. This year, nothing's going wrong. Gunn's orders."
He tightened his hold, and this time she didn't resist the kiss. "Happy Birthday, Buffy."
- end -