Butterfly Ops
By Alexandra Huxley
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc. in chapter 51.

Special Author's Note: Thank you to everyone for
being so wonderful over the past six months. This has
been an amazing journey for me, though one which was
at times difficult to travel, thanks to real life
butting in. And I realize that I owe a bunch of you
personal notes, but I wanted to take this opportunity
to thank a few people who have been particularly
awesome. First and foremost: Diana - you know how
much you mean to me and that I owe this, um, BOOK to
you, but I couldn't possibly do a thank you list
without including you at the top of the list. Cynthia
and Moe - the best betas ever. Amy - if it weren't
for the Starcrossed Summer '02 Challenge, this story
would never have been written. Chris and Remy - every
single posting, your wonderful feedback is there. You
are truly amazing. Mandy - for pimping me on LJ. I
was incredibly honored. Cheryl, Joy, Carole G.,
Paola, Sharon C., Jessica, Lisa, Kait - maybe not
every single posting, but at least a few of you were
there every week (*cough*when I was posting
weekly*cough*), getting me through. And finally, last
but certainly not least - every single one of you who
has ever sent me feedback on Butterfly Ops. I wish I
could name you all. (And if you haven't gotten a
personal thanks from me yet, now that BO is over, you
will. :) ) Riley may not have had the hugest number
of fans, but if you ask me, Finnatics are, without
doubt, the greatest!

Now back to our programming...




========================
Chapter 52: Epilogue
========================


“I thought she said to turn left and go down the
hill,” Anya said, looking at the map in her hands.

“No, it said up.” Xander made the turn slowly, for
the billionth time regretting that he’d insisted on
personally bringing Buffy’s stuff east rather than
having her just fly it all out as she’d intended in
the first place. U-Haul trailer + Ford 350 pickup
complete with crew cab + two kids and one ex-demon
non-wife still high from their three-day Hershey’s
bender = nothing but trouble on narrow, winding Boston
streets.

“I swear it said down.” Anya turned the map upside
down.

“’Cause you ate too much chocolate,” Xander muttered,
still feeling vaguely sick himself.

Anya groaned. “Don’t mention that word ever again.”

Xander whipped his head around as a blur of color flew
past the window, heading down the hill at what seemed
like a hundred miles an hour. “What the…? Was that
Dawn?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Anya answered distractedly as she
read the numbers on the houses. “Why would Dawn be
skateboarding down a steep hill while clutching the
hands of tall children?”

“Yeah, but…” Xander stared after... Dawn. That was
definitely Dawn on that skateboard. With, yes – three
tall children, the girl and the boy being particularly
so. And that older boy... “Do we know that kid? He
looks familiar.”

Anya didn’t respond to the question, instead, saying,
“Number eighteen should be the next one. Here’s a
spot. Park now.”

Sure – if you were driving a Mini-Cooper. That was
Ahn, though – not loving the details. Unless they
involved money or demons, of course.

Xander pulled to a stop a little further up the
street, driving past Buffy’s house to the tune of
“Auntie B! Auntie B!” coming from the back seat.

The kids craned their necks and banged on the windows,
trying to get Buffy’s attention and prompting Xander
to shout, “Stay in your seats until the car stops!”

“Oh, honey – that’s so sweet.” Anya grabbed his hand
and brought it to her lips. “Statistically, though,
it’s much more likely that they’ll be eviscerated by a
Wornstruck demon than thrown from the car before you
park.”

“Anya...” Xander warned.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know – no demon talk in
front of the children.”

Before Xander could respond, Grace piped up with,
“Mommy – why is Auntie B kissing the gardener?”

Anya reached down to get her bag off the floor.
“Auntie B doesn’t have a gardener.”

Grace was not deterred. “But she’s kissing the man
who was cutting the roses off her front door. Eeew.
He’s all sweaty and dirty.”

Xander had to smile as Anya murmured, “Sweaty and
dirty aren’t always a bad thing.”

Michael, obviously deciding that his mother’s answer
wasn’t sufficient, gave an exaggerated sigh. “Gracie
– she’s kissing him because he’s her man to love. You
know that.”

“‘Her man to love’?” Xander raised his eyebrows and
looked at Anya. “Is this what you’re teaching them?”

The look she gave him screamed, Oh, Honey – it could
be so much worse. She didn’t say anything in
response, however, instead leaning into the back so
she could see out the window. “Where’s this gardener,
Gracie? Oh, my.” Her voice perked up. “Well, yes –
I’d kiss him, too.”

Oh. So not acceptable.

“His arms are very nicely formed. Shapely back...”
Anya said, mostly under her breath.

Xander looked out his window. “Geez, Ahn – too bad
you can’t actually see his face.” Gardener, my ass.
Wasn’t so good with keeping up with the roses. “Or
maybe I should just ask him to drop trou? Then you
could check out his... Um...”

Anya somehow managed to tear her eyes away and pull
herself back into the front seat – probably just to
gloat that she wasn’t the one about to use words
highly inappropriate for a four- and six-year-old.
“Oh, Xander,” she sighed. “It’s not like we’re
married, you know.”

“Good thing,” Xander muttered, “because we’d probably
be divorced by now.”

He craned his head again, just in time to see Mr. Hot
and Sweaty disappear into the house, the guy’s hand
lingering on Buffy’s waist in a much too familiar way
for non-approved green thumb types. For non-approved
green thumb types that Buffy couldn’t possibly know
that well, having been in Boston for less than two
months.

Getting out of the truck, Xander opened the back door,
waiting for Anya to do the same. As they helped the
kids climb out he said, “Since when does Buffy hire a
gardener? She likes to do that stuff.”

Anya shook her head. “Except for the bees. I’ve
never known a Slayer that was so bothered by-”

She was cut off by a yelp coming from Buffy’s front
door. Buffy had obviously been so involved in her
kissing that she hadn’t noticed a huge, black truck
towing a bright orange U-Haul driving up her street
until now.

“Gracie! Michael!” Buffy yelled as she flew down the
steps. Reaching the kids, she dropped to her knees
and threw her arms around them. “Just wait until you
hear what we’ve got planned for you – we’re taking you
sailing and to Fenway Park. And tomorrow we’ll have a
picnic – we can play football and baseball and Annie
said she’ll teach us soccer.”

Xander looked at her oddly. “Since when do you play
sports?”

Anya hit his arm. She could clearly care much less
about sports, asking instead, “Since when do you kiss
the gardener?”

“The gardener?” Buffy stood up straight and reached
out to give Xander and Anya hugs. She looked puzzled.
“I don’t have a...”

“Where did he go?” Xander said, looking up the steps.


“Xander’s feeling jealous and protective,” Anya
helpfully added. “He thinks we should meet him.
Now.”

“Oh.” Buffy smiled and looked up at the door. “Well,
technically, you’ve already met him. Spent a fair
amount of time with him, in fact.”

That meant, like, three guys in the whole history of
Buffy. One was dead; another was, well, also dead,
but currently broodily residing in L.A.; the other…

Aw, man... “Buffy, I swear – if you and Spike…”

Anya hit him again. “Daylight, honey. Even Spike
couldn’t do that.”

Oh, right. “Then...”

Buffy picked up Grace and took Michael’s hand. “Let’s
go up.”

Now that was just being mean.

She led them up the stairs to the house, opening the
front door, and saying, “I meant to tell you earlier.
I really did. It’s just...” She shrugged. “Things
have been a little crazy.”

They walked through a screened-in porch, and into a
mostly bare living room. “This is nice, Buff,” Xander
said. “A little vacant maybe...”

His voice trailed off as they entered the dining room.
There were voices coming from the kitchen, one
sounding a hell of a lot like Willow’s.

No one said anything about Willow meeting up with them
in Boston.

It was definitely her, though, laughing and saying,
“Kate – tell your dad how good I’m being.”

The Kate person, or at least that’s who Xander assumed
it was, answered, “Dad – I swear. She said no magic.
Just the brush and ink. Really.”

“Well she works pretty damn fast,” came the muttered
response. And then more loudly, though not at all
unhappily – “O.k. She can do it on both wrists –
that’s all though. Understand?”

Xander looked up sharply at Buffy – at Buffy who was
practically glowing as she leaned back against the
wall.

Whoa. That’s like...

That’s like...

“That’s impossible,” he said.

Buffy got a little teary – but in a happy way – as she
put Grace down and smiled. “You have no idea.”

Just then Riley... Let’s just take a moment here:
Riley Finn. A very
no-longer-missing-in-action-and-presumed-dead Riley
fucking Finn – came through the doorway with a beer in
his hand, his eyes still on what was happening in the
kitchen. As his head turned, he started to ask Buffy
where her bottle opener was. Stopping mid-sentence,
he grinned. “Xander, Anya – hi.”

Anya stepped forward immediately, her eyes a little
too focused on Riley’s arms. She actually reached her
hand out, her fingers moving forward as if to caress
his well-defined – as Anya was no doubt thinking –
bicep.

“Anya!” Come on. Really.

She turned to glare at Xander. “I’m not going to
sleep with him,” she snapped. Turning back to Riley,
she did her awkward and – lucky for her – endearing
shoulder clap while saying, “You look robust and
virile. I’m sure Buffy is pleased.”

Riley just smiled easily, not even glancing at Buffy.
“Uh, thanks, I guess.”

He didn’t say anything else – he was too busy jumping
out of Grace and Michael’s way as they noticed Willow
appear in the doorway behind him. They rushed at her,
and there were a few moments of kids screaming over
the bonus Willow appearance.

Anya’s eyes narrowed as she focused on Willow. “You
spelled us into Hershey Park so they could have sex
for three days.”

“Anya!”

Xander couldn’t even count the number of people who
had just said that.

Well, o.k. – it was only three: him, Buffy and Willow,
all glancing at various children as they did so.
Xander was sure Riley was thinking it too, however,
seeing as he’d given up on the bottle opener and
abruptly headed back into the kitchen. There was the
sound of a bottle cap being hit against a kitchen
counter; then another.

He came back into the dining room and wordlessly
handed the second bottle to Xander just in time to
hear the tail end of Buffy’s, “Trust me. I wish
that’s what we were doing.”

Kate – also now in the doorway and sporting an almost
done Willow-henna-special on her wrist – scrunched her
face up. “Dad – make her stop!”

Buffy looked apologetically at Riley, mumbling,
“Sorry.” She had clearly been taking lessons at the
Anya school of What (Not) To Say In Front Of The Kids.

Xander decided it was high time to pick his mouth up
off the floor and contribute. He reached out to shake
Riley’s hand, then thought better of it. Because –
fuck it. If any situation deserved a big manly bear
hug – beer bottles and all – this one seemed to be it.

This was great. This was someone who actually liked
playing poker. This was someone who knew what Airwolf
was. This was-

“Mommy?” Grace asked Anya. “Does Daddy get to have
man-love, too?”

Xander let go of Riley. Hug over. Hug so over.

Sighing, Xander muttered, “My life. This is my life.”

Thankfully, Buffy stepped in and said, “Gracie,
Michael – this is my friend, Riley.”

Leaning forward, Michael solemnly shook Riley’s hand,
saying – in a voice that was much too mature for any
Harris child – “I’m asking people to call me Mike.”

Equally solemnly, Riley answered, “It’s good to meet
you, Mike.” He nodded to the girl standing next to
him. “This is Kate. Her sister and brothers should
be back soon.”

Kate mumbled, “Hi,” and waved, instantly becoming the
kids’ new best friend when she let them look at what
Willow had drawn on her wrist.

Well, that explained why those kids with Dawn had
looked so familiar. Of course, it did beg the
question: where was the missus?

Xander’s eyes automatically went to Riley’s hand. No
ring.

Riley obviously noticed. He dropped his hand from
Kate’s shoulder, his thumb subconsciously going to
where the ring would have been.

“Long, involved story,” he mumbled.

I’ll bet.

Xander nodded. He’d get the details from Willow. And
right now, there was gloating to be had.

Turning to Buffy, Xander grinned, not bothering to
hide the glee in his voice. “Wish I could have been
there when you told Angel.”

Almost too quickly, Buffy answered, “Angel’s fine with
it. He’s even met Riley’s mom. Cooked with her in
fact.”

That seemed to come as a surprise to Riley. “Angel
was cooking with my mom? At my house?”

Buffy nodded. “While you were dead. We told you that
– didn’t we?”

“No.” Riley looked from Buffy to Kate. “I would have
distinctly remembered that.”

Hold on a minute here. Rewind, please. “While Riley
was dead?” So was he, or wasn’t he?

“Haven’t been dead at all yet.” Riley nodded towards
Kate and Buffy. Maybe Willow, too. “They just
thought I was.”

“We’re hoping to keep it that way,” Buffy said,
smiling. “The not being dead part, I mean.” She
seemed so badly to want to reach out and touch Riley.
Let her hands do the walking. She kept them to
herself, though, clasping them behind her back.

“I’m in total agreement with you there,” Riley
answered. He put his half-finished bottle of beer
down on a folding table, the lone item of furniture in
the dining room. “If no one minds, I think I’ll take
a quick shower.”

“God, Dad.” Kate scrunched up her nose. “Please do.”


Ignoring Kate, Riley turned to Xander and Anya, “Sorry
to be so rude – hadn’t planned on being roped into
cutting roses. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
To Kate, he added, “One on each wrist. That’s all.”

Kate rolled her eyes and stomped back into the
kitchen. Grace and Michael followed, begging Willow
for tattoos of their own as they pulled her behind
them.

Riley headed for the stairs, stopping as Buffy grabbed
his hand. She pulled him back and drew his head down,
giving him the kind of kiss that heated up a room.
When they pulled apart reluctantly – purely for
decency’s sake – they looked at each other the way
they used to.

No. Take that back. They way Riley used to; the way
Buffy should have.

No. Take that back, too. The way she and Angel had,
except, well, not really.

Nah. That wasn’t it, either. It was more like...

Aw, forget it. Never was much with the wordage.

It was want. It was need. It was raw, and it was
right. All laid out on the Buffy/Riley table.

In a no emotions barred kind of way.

How do you like them mighty fine apples?

Buffy finally let Riley go, watching as he disappeared
into the living room and up the stairs. She turned
around and leaned back against the wall, a huge smile
on her face as she looked at Xander and Anya.

Xander couldn’t help but grin. “About time you
listened to me – even if it did take you, like,
fifteen years.”

“She did listen to you back then,” Anya corrected, in
her ever so tactful Anya way, “she just didn’t run
fast enough.”

Glaring at Anya, Buffy pushed off the wall. She
snapped, “I’d like to see how fast you could run after
single-handedly dusting-”

“So, Buffy.” Xander put his arm around her shoulders
as he guided her towards the kitchen. “Did I mention
we brought chocolate?”


======================================


Buffy knew it was time to clean up after dinner – she
didn’t even want to think about what kind of bugs had
made their way to what might otherwise have been the
leftovers; it was too nice of a night, however, not to
take advantage of the stars and the moon. And sitting
here with everyone on the patio – in her newly
reclaimed patio furniture, no less, thanks to all the
helpful U-Haul unpackers – she couldn’t help but think
that the night was just about perfect.

It was hard to believe that a month ago, this house
had been empty – a vacant set of rooms serving only to
support a hermit’s hideaway. No laughter, no life.
Just Dawn and Eddie making their case to come out for
one night – just this one night; come see the lights.


Impossible, Xander had said. And yet...

What a night. What a wonderful night.

She leaned back in the lounge chair – well, to be more
specific, against Riley in the lounge chair – causing
him to shift beneath her.

“Geez, Buffy…” Xander leaned forward and put his
drink on the ground between his and Anya’s chairs.
“Give the guy a break. He looks like he’s gonna
hurl.”

Whirling around, Buffy saw that, indeed, Riley looked
not so well. “Are you o.k.? What’s wrong?”

Despite the pained look on his face, Riley smiled.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He put his hands to her waist and
readjusted her on his lap. “I just ate a little too
much.”

Xander reached for Anya’s hand. “Told you she could
cook,” he said to Riley.

“I believed you,” Riley protested with perhaps a
little too much emphasis.

Buffy turned around again and hit him in the arm.
“You so didn’t.”

He grimaced and grabbed her waist, easing her back
slowly as he muttered, “Gentle. Please.”

“Buffy’s never cooked for you?” Anya asked, sounding
more than a trifle irritated. “How does she get out
of those kinds of things?”

Eddie – Buffy’s favorite choice as a future
brother-in-law – came to Buffy’s defense. “They were
in the woods for a while.”

Willow, lying on her back on the ground and looking up
at the sky, added, “Then he was dead for most of this
week.”

To Buffy’s surprise, Riley didn’t respond to that. At
some point during the last few hours, he’d finally
given up on correcting everyone that he hadn’t been
dead. He did however, say, “And almost from the
beginning-”

He stopped abruptly, and Buffy could hear the smile in
his voice as his hands tightened around her waist.
She smiled, too; the word ‘beginning’ had taken on a
new meaning since the night before last.

“Almost from the beginning,” he continued, “we were
training 24/7. There wasn’t much time for cooking.”

Exactly. Very good points. Thank you Eddie, Willow,
and Riley.

“Plus,” Dawn said, “she couldn’t cook for shit when
she was in college.”

Buffy glared down to where Dawn sat at the base of
Eddie’s chair. “Gee, Dawn. Supportive, much?”

Dawn was not at all apologetic. “Well, it’s true.”

“Not true,” Buffy shot back. “Not at all true.”

“See?” Xander said over their voices. “This is why we
had to have kids after Dawn moved out here. It just
got way too quiet. Had to create our own sibling
bickering.”

“Yes, Dawn.” Anya bent down for her glass of wine.
“Whatever were you thinking? Things just weren’t the
same after that.”

“Hand,” Willow said to Xander, waiting for him to help
pull her up. Once she was sitting, she drew her legs
up to her chest. “This does kind of bring back the
memories – doesn’t it?” She rested her chin on her
knees. “Remember how we used to set up a table in the
backyard and just sit out there for hours?”

Laughing, Dawn said, “And Spike would complain we were
trying to kill him because the sun would be rising
soon.”

“Wait,” Xander answered. “You mean that wasn’t what
we were doing?”

Eddie asked Dawn, “Was that when you were in high
school?”

She shook her head. “In college. When I’d come home
for break. Before we sold Mom’s house and Buffy moved
to L.A.”

“Before Willow moved to Chicago,” Xander added.

A lifetime ago. “Before we grew up,” Buffy said
quietly.

Willow turned her head towards Buffy. “You say that
like it’s a bad thing.”

Leaning back against Riley’s shoulder, Buffy closed
her eyes as his arms went around her. If she’d known
growing up was this good, she would have done it a lot
sooner. She ran her hand down Riley’s arm and found
his hand. Lacing her fingers through his, she
murmured, “Not a bad thing. Definitely not a bad
thing.”

Right about then, the lights went on in the living
room, and a girl’s plaintive voice called, “Dad?” from
just inside the screen door.

Xander sighed and stretched his arms. To Riley, he
said, “That was mine wasn’t it?”

Riley nodded. “Definitely more four than fourteen.”

“Movie must be over.” Xander stood up. “We should
probably get them to bed. Buffy – where are we
sleeping?”

“You guys get the two guest rooms off the kitchen.”
Willow got to her feet and tucked her hand into
Xander’s arm. “Let me just get my stuff out of
there.”

Anya got up, too, asking, “Where will you go?” She
began gathering dishes from the table.

“Buffy’s room. We’re having a slumber party – just
like old times,” Willow said, her voice fading as the
three of them walked into the house.

Dawn prodded Eddie to stand up and used his
outstretched hand to pull herself to her feet. “No.”
She put her hand out to stop Buffy and Riley from
standing up. “You guys stay. We can take care of
this.”

Normally, Buffy would have completely disregarded that
statement – it was her house, she shouldn’t be hiding
out in the dark while everyone else cleaned up and
showed her guests to their rooms. But it was hitting
her that Riley had to leave soon, and she found that
she was having a much harder time with that than she’d
thought she would.

It was just for the night. Not even for that many
hours, really, given that he’d be back the next
morning to help Xander out in the basement. Still,
they hadn’t been apart since the moment they’d left
Quetico, and Buffy wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye.

She turned over – carefully, this time – and snuggled
against him, closing her eyes as his hand ran down the
length of her back and he kissed the top of her head.


“You really have to go home?” she asked, even though
she knew full well what the answer was. She played
with the button on his shirt. “It’s a big bed.
Willow doesn’t take up much extra room.”

Riley laughed. “I’m sure Willow would love that.”

Willow, actually, had offered to sleep on the couch.
Or at Graham and Sarah’s. Or even back at Riley’s.
Buffy had declined the offer, albeit somewhat
reluctantly. She was a big girl. She could make it
through the night without him. Could tell herself
that he wasn’t going to die on her again; not for a
third time.

Well, o.k. – obviously he would die for a third and
most likely permanent time. Everybody did eventually.
It was just that Buffy was pretty certain it wouldn’t
be anytime soon. Not after what had happened the
other night. That had been more than just a message –
it had been a promise.

Not just of a clean slate, but of a future. A silent
voice saying: this is my word; this is what I can give
you. This is just the beginning – and, baby, it’s
gonna be beautiful.

So, then, why the industrial-strength cling? When,
Buffy, did you turn into the biggest sap, ever?

Three minutes ago, apparently. She hugged him tightly
and whispered, “I miss you already.”

Tilting up her chin, Riley pulled her to him. His
mouth closed over hers and she found herself inching
up along his body, needing to feel his heart beat,
needing to feel his warm skin.

She forced herself to remember that they were not
alone in his room, that there was no license to do
whatever she wanted as long as she did it quietly.
That she was not allowed to tear his shirt off even
though his hand was now running down her front in a
slow, suggestive way not at all in line with the
family-friendly nature of the evening.

Shifting, she let her knee press against him in a way
that prompted him to gasp; shifted again – well, o.k.,
so maybe she added some hand action of her own – and
got a groaned, “Buffy...”

His hand was suddenly clutching her hair. She could
practically hear him clench his jaw as he pulled her
head to his shoulder.

“You by any chance doing anything around three a.m.?”
His voice was gravelly and kind of rushed. She
probably wasn’t helping any by leaving her hand
exactly where it was. “I mean,” he continued, “I’ll
probably be up. Maybe go for a drive. Maybe end up
in your neighborhood.”

“Maybe end up taking a walk down to the river?” She
smiled broadly and let her tongue swirl around one of
the scars on his neck. Hell, yes. “It’s a date.”

He grinned and nodded, pulling her back into a heated
kiss, one she eagerly returned. Until, that is, there
was a disgusted, “Dad!” She looked up to see Jack
come to a sudden stop above them.

Buffy wasn’t sure if she’d ever moved quite so
quickly, pulling away fast enough that she may have
generated actual wind. Not, of course, fast enough.
She straightened out her shirt as she sat up.

“Couldn’t you do that in private?” Kate asked from
behind Jack.

“Oddly enough,” Riley muttered, “it did start out that
way.”

Buffy could see the commander slip in to place as he
sat up. That was the only possible explanation behind
him being able to casually sit up, his legs going to
either side of the lounge chair, without losing a
shred of dignity. Despite having just been caught
feeling up his girlfriend in front of his four kids.
By his four kids.

Man, she was going to have to learn how he did that.
The best she could do was just ease on down so she was
perching on the end of the lounge chair, sitting on
her hands, her feet flat on the ground. Miss
I-Am-Not-Touching-Any-Part-Of-Your-Father.

Annie either didn’t notice any of this or had just
decided to completely ignore the exchange, pushing
past Kate and saying, “Dad, do we really need to be
here by eight tomorrow? Isn’t that kind of early?”

“Eight? You guys are starting at eight? With power
tools?” Buffy asked sharply, earning an
eyebrows-raised look from Riley that obviously meant,
Shut up. He was too polite to say it, of course. “I
mean,” – she put on her best encouraging face –
“Great. I’m so glad Xander has you starting bright
and early. Go, team.”

After the blankest look ever, Riley turned back to
Annie and innocently offered, “You know, if it’s too
early Xander and I can come get you guys on our way
back from Home Depot.”

Almost too innocently. because it took Buffy a few
seconds to realize that Riley and Xander had
absolutely no plans to go anywhere in the morning.

Jack asked, “Would we still get to help knock down the
basement wall?”

Riley glanced over at Buffy. He still didn’t seem to
believe that she had no problem with his kids learning
the constructive arts, as Xander called it, on the
walls of her basement – as in, on the foundation of
her house. She figured – hey, if the house got
condemned, she’d just go live at their place. She was
sure Kate wouldn’t mind. “Um, yeah,” she said,
answering his unasked question. “No worries.”

“O.k., then.” Riley looked up at the kids. “I
promise – no demolition until all parties are
present.”

That seemed to placate them. They turned to go back
into the house, only to stop when Riley called out,
“Sure, Dad – we’d be happy to help clear the table.
We’ll even wash the dishes before we leave.”

There were several groans and a fair amount of eye
rolling, but they turned around and came back to the
table, loading their arms with the remaining dishes.
Jack even smiled at Buffy and said, “Dinner was
awesome. My dad is so wrong about you not being able
to cook.”

Excuse me? Buffy reached out and whacked Riley’s
knee. “Did you take out a newspaper ad?”

He grabbed her hand. “That she doesn’t cook,” Riley
corrected loudly as the kids walked towards the house.
“Not can’t – doesn’t.”

Annie pushed Jack forward, her voice fading as she got
further away. “You shouldn’t say things like that.
Especially on their anniversary.”

The second the screen door slammed shut, Buffy glared
at Riley.

“Um, hey...” He let go of her hand, pretending that
he wasn’t in any trouble whatsoever. “Happy
anniversary. You know, give or take a day.”

“Technically, it’s our monthiversary.” For lack of
anything better to do, she whacked his knee again.

He held up his hands, grinning. “I am so completely
an innocent party here.”

Trying not to smile, she said, “There’s no doubt in my
mind that you have a good explanation for totally
dissing my culinary skills.” She folded her arms
across her chest. “I’m just trying to figure out what
it is.”

He obviously realized that he wasn’t going to get
anywhere without a proper response. After rolling his
eyes, he launched into, “There I am – minding my own
business and holding up my end of the couch – when
Jack asks me what we’re doing for dinner. I tell him
that – as we speak – you’re in the kitchen cooking.”

Riley leaned forward and grabbed her by the waist,
pulling her towards him. “‘Buffy’s cooking, Daddy?’
‘Sure is,’ I tell him. ‘Buffy can cook, Daddy?’ ‘I’m
sure she can,’ I answer.” He put his arms around her
and played with her hair as he spoke. “Then Xander
helps out by saying, ‘She sure can, Ri. Didn’t you
ever-’?”

“O.k.!” Buffy said, laughing as she put her arms
around him. “You’re forgiven.”

“You sure now?” His hand crept up under her shirt,
his thumb edging under the elastic of her bra.
“Wouldn’t want you to think-”

“Shut up,” she murmured, pulling his head down so his
mouth went to her neck.

Well – nobody ever said that she was polite, just that
he was.

She closed her eyes as he kissed his way up her neck,
past her jaw. Right up to her mouth, where he stopped
suddenly and pulled back.

“You know what just occurred to me?” he asked, his
breath warm on her face.

“What?” She ran her tongue along her lips, noticing
that he was close enough for her lick his lips as
well. Yummy.

He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head down, almost
kissing her. “When you spend your first, uh,
monthiversary traveling to an alternate dimension and
back; and while you were there you hung out with a
mystical warrior princess, a woman who’s been dead for
eight years and, very possibly, God...”

“Mmmm...” Reaching her hands up to his face, she ran
them up through his hair. “I’m listening.”

Pulling away, he asked, “Well – what do you do for
your second?”

“I don’t know...” She drew him back down, having only
one thing left to say before they got on with the
kissing. “But I bet it will be good.”



~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~

=====
Writing as Alexandra Huxley
http://home.mindspring.com/~jenkel/fanfic/index.html

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