skip the light fandango

Title: Average Love Story (Complete)
Author: Maren
Pairing: Buffy/Gunn
Rating: Adult
Summary: They meet, they hang out,they date, they… you know, and they live reasonably happy ever after—it’s just your average love story.


They. . . You Know

Buffy finished smoothing the lightly scented lotion over her skin and adjusted the black lace demi-bra that somehow managed to push her breasts up and together enough to make it look like she had cleavage. Tonight she had plans to seduce her boyfriend and pity the demon or human who got in her way.

When they started dating, they’d agreed to take it slow. But Buffy had no idea at the time what that would mean, in practice, and she was tired of waiting.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Buffy didn’t exactly have the best track record in the sexual relationship department; in fact, if she had any kind of record at all it was for percentage of “first times” gone bad. Heartache. . . guilt. . . self-loathing –none of them were high on her list of things she liked to feel, no matter how much the circumstances of her life might say otherwise. Gunn knew enough about her history to understand when she told him she wanted them to take their time with the physical stuff.

Of course what they agreed to do and what they actually did were not always the same thing. Three days after their slightly awkward “sex talk” they were already dangerously close to forgetting their agreement. They’d come back to her apartment after a rare uneventful patrol and cuddled together on the couch to watch a movie. Cuddling turned to kissing and kissing turned into touching and before she knew exactly what happened, Buffy was straddling Gunn’s lap, grinding down onto the bulge trapped under the rough denim of his jeans. He was cupping one breast under her sweater, his thumb making back and forth passes over the jutting, satin-covered tip of her nipple. His other thumb was hooked in the belt loop of her low-rise jeans, hand splayed down to cup her bottom as he rocked up into her heat. The sounds of the movie faded away as she kissed him, deep kisses that were just the right amount of wet, just the right amount of lip and tongue and teeth and she forgot why it seemed like a good idea to go slow as she moaned into his mouth and he groaned when she twisted her hips just . . . like . . . that. . .

Forgot, that is, until they were interrupted by her sister’s shrill voice.

“Oh. My. God. Are you even aware that there are young and impressionable eyes in this house, eyes that you have now blinded? I have to sit on that couch!” Dawn was standing in the threshold of the living room with one hand covering her aggrieved eyes.

“I thought you went to bed,” Buffy seethed, scooting off Gunn’s lap and yanking her sweater down. Gunn grabbed a throw pillow and covered his lap. Buffy glanced over at him and he winked at her. She might have been irritated that he could recover so quickly but she could see that he was still breathing heavily and she was pretty sure if she reached over and touched him, his skin would feel as hot as hers.

Dawn spread her fingers and peeked out from between them. “Can’t a girl get up to get a glass of water in her own house without having to worry about stumbling into a peep show starring her sister?”

The interruption had been annoying, as were the subsequent mid-grope interruptions of demons needing to be slayed and slayers needing demons to slay. But they weren’t doing a great job with taking things slow-- couldn’t even manage to keep their hands to themselves until the night Spike and Angel walked in on them.

Not so much a problem after that, except that now things were moving so slow that sometimes Buffy thought she’d be post-menopausal by the time they. . . you know. Consummated things. Did the deed. Screwed like bunnies.

They’d been well on the way, that night in her office. Gunn had come to pick her up for their date but he looked so good she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Buffy ended up perched on the edge of her desk with one of Gunn’s hands on her bare thigh, pushing her skirt almost up to her hips, his other hand between her legs. He had her panties pushed over to the side, his fingers long and thick inside her and it felt so damn good and made her ache for more all at the same time. And it wasn’t like she was the only one getting happy because she had his pants opened and his cock in her hand, heavy and smooth, and she knew he was liking it as much as she was because every once in a while he made these little grunting noises in the back of his throat. Buffy felt hot and tight, like her skin could barely contain the sensations he was sparking in her body, and when his mouth trailed from her lips to her throat and he started unconsciously rocking into her hand, she knew she was going to come before he was even inside her.

That’s when Angel barged in, with Spike right at his heels like some rabid puppy.

“Buffy. . .” Angel’s voice broke through her lust and her eyes snapped open. She peered over Gunn’s shoulder, wide-eyed, to see her exes hovering in the doorway like some nightmare of lovers past. Her eyes met Angel’s for a brief moment before he looked to the floor, and she saw his anger. Buffy turned her gaze to Spike, who was pushing past Angel’s broad form.

“Well fuck,” Spike drawled from his newer, unobstructed vantage point, his tone flippant but she saw the hurt darken his eyes and even though she had no reason to feel guilty, she did, a little, anyway.

“He can say that again.” Gunn’s words were a whispered groan against her neck, and she couldn’t help shivering from the sensation against her hot, super-sensitive skin. Spike grimaced and pushed back around Angel, who still stood in the doorway with his hands clenched in fists.

Buffy yanked down her skirt while Gunn tucked himself inside his pants and refastened them. She allowed herself a moment of relief that the way they were positioned provided them some privacy, let herself believe for a single second that maybe Spike and Angel wouldn’t know exactly what they’d walked in on. Then she saw Angel’s nostrils flare, a look of disgust crossing his face, and she knew they were totally and completely busted.

Gunn turned to face Angel. “Hey man,” he said, quietly, and the muscle in Angel’s jaw jumped. “I didn’t know you guys were back in town yet.”

The muscle in Angel’s jaw jumped again. “Obviously.”

He’d turned around and left then and Buffy finally found the strength to jump off the desk and run a hand through her messy hair. She was pissed at the intrusion and their attitudes, like they owned her or something, and she was tempted to go and knock some sense into them but there was that part of her that felt inexplicably guilty, like she’d done something wrong. And of course there was nothing quite like getting caught with your pants down, by not one but two men you’d had your pants down with. Buffy was pretty sure it had fulfilled her embarrassment quota for the year.

The whole experience was mortifying. Worse, it sparked her and Gunn’s first fight.

“I thought they were still in the Sa’Nehr dimension. I didn’t want it to go down like this. . . ” Gunn stared at the place that had been occupied by Angel and Spike just a moment before and shook his head. A short sound of frustration thrummed from his throat and he rubbed a hand over the smooth crown of his head, turning back to Buffy with a tense, distracted look. “I’m gonna have to cancel on you tonight, Buffy. I need to go find him, make sure things are all right between us.”

Buffy had watched him go, dumbstruck. And as the hours passed, her anger at Angel and Spike grew and spread until she was pissed at Gunn too. She never thought Gunn would be intimidated by Angel, Spike, or her history with them. She’d been down that road before, wasn’t interested in traveling it again. Then there was the niggling fear that was blooming and growing into a screaming terror that they’d scare Gunn off, not with any kind of physical bullying, but just by being honest about what it was like to be involved with her. She’d put a sword through one and sent him to a hell dimension, gave the other one an amulet that she’d instinctively known would kill him, and told them both in what they thought were their last moments that she loved them. For god’s sake, Gunn would be certifiable if he stuck around after hearing the kinds of things they could tell him about her.

She didn’t see him again until late the next morning, when her anger and growing panic had combined to work her into one hell of a snit. He hadn’t called or answered his phone when she’d tried to call, and Buffy was tired of waiting to find out whether he was falling in step with every other man in her life and bolting while the bolting was good. She went to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when he didn’t answer right away the knocking had turned to pounding.

Gunn was pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he opened the door and Buffy was treated to the sight of his bare chest and the rippled muscles of his stomach. Her mouth went a little dry at the sight, then turned into the Sahara when he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Hey baby,” he said with a sleep-graveled voice, rubbing his eyes and stepping aside so she could come in. Buffy thawed a little at the greeting; he’d never called her that before and it sounded . . . nice, coming from him. He stepped toward her and Buffy let her face relax into a small smile as she slid into his arms. The smile faded and her nose crumpled when she got close enough to smell him.

“You smell like an ashtray. An ashtray that’s been soaked in stale beer. You smell like. . . Spike,” she said, stepping away, her eyes sweeping over him. Gunn’s eyes were blood shot and he looked like hell. “Are you hung-over?”

Gunn closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his skull, the movement causing the muscles in his arm to flex and Buffy had to fight to hold on her to her anger. Her boyfriend was tasty eye candy, even when he looked like hell.

“A little,” he said as he shuffled over to the couch and slumped into it. “I found Angel and Spike at that new demon bar down on Hawthorne. We knocked a few back, played a couple hands of stud.”

Buffy frowned and leaned against the wall. “You got drunk and played poker?” In all the hours she’d spent stewing, all the scenarios she’d imagined, she’d never once considered that they might be sitting together at a bar, drinking and gambling. An unpleasant thought occurred to her. “Wait a second; I wasn’t the bet or something, was I? Because I am not some prize to be. . .” she started, crossing her arms over her chest but Gunn rolled his eyes and cut her off.

“We didn’t play for you, Buffy, so chill. It was guys doing guy things while we worked stuff out between us,” Gunn said, shooting her a look of annoyance before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the cushions of the couch.

Guy things? She was left all alone, worrying about what was happening between all of them and they were hanging out in a bar?

“Okay, I know Spike does guy things, but Angel? Angel does ‘guy things’?” Buffy couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Angel was pretty well on his way to drunk when I finally caught up with them. And considering the way he cleaned my clock, I’d say he’s had a few boy’s nights in his day. Days. Decades,” he said, not moving.

Buffy was silent for a moment, waiting for him to continue explaining what happened between them. Gunn just sat there and Buffy began to wonder if he had fallen asleep in the middle of an explanation that was bordering on overdue. Her anger kicked up a notch. She did not care how good he looked, half-naked and lounging. He needed to spend less time looking hot and more time explaining leaving her like that to go hang out with the exes.

She pushed away from the wall and stalked over to Gunn, stopping just in front of him. Her fingers tapped against her bicep with increasing speed as her annoyance mounted, and when he still didn’t look at her she cleared her throat.

Gunn cracked open one eye and peered at her, then sighed and sat up. “Don’t worry, Buffy. Angel and I got things squared away. Spike too, for that matter. They’re cool with us being together . . . or as cool as they’re gonna be, knowing you’re with somebody else.”

The anger that had been simmering all night bubbled over and Buffy thought she might explode with it.

“I don’t need their permission to be with you,” she seethed, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, but she didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched in returning anger.

“I didn’t ask for permission. But, yeah, it matters to me that Angel’s okay with us. What happened between me, Fred, and Wes . . . once was enough. I’m not going down that road again.” Gunn’s voice was hard and stubborn, and Buffy had no doubt he meant what he said. Still, she had to ask, just to be sure.

“And what if he would have said he’d rather. . . I don’t know, spend a week trapped in a closet with Spike than see you and I together. What kind of conversation would we be having right now?” Her gut twisted into a knot as she waited for him to answer.

He leaned forward and grabbed her around the waist, his hands settling on her hips as he looked up to meet her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Buffy felt something inside her crack, and she started to back away but Gunn squeezed her hips and pulled back.

“I wanted to ask you out the first day I met you. The moment that pencil fell out of the ceiling and stabbed you in the head, I had it bad. But I waited, for months, because I wanted to talk to Angel first. If they’d come back sooner and . . . well, no, I probably wouldn’t have asked you out. I would’ve finished the job and gotten as far away from you as possible, so I wouldn’t have to keep seeing you and pretend I didn’t think about kissing you all the damn time.” Buffy stopped resisting his grip on her hips, relaxed just enough that he was able to pull her stiff body down onto his lap. “But they didn’t come back right away and I wasn’t sure they would make it back, so I took my chances and. . . I don’t know what I would have done if Angel had freaked. I’m sorry if that pisses you off, but it’s the truth.”

And Buffy had wanted to stay pissed, but she couldn’t. Not really. Not when Gunn was just being a good friend and an honest guy. Her boyfriend was really awesome.

She forgave him for running out on her and he forgave her for being a brat and they moved on, but with considerable less groping because whether they admitted it or not, the Spike and Angel Affair had spooked them.

But enough was enough. Buffy was tired of it. She was a young woman in her prime with a hot, human boyfriend who made her toes curl every time he kissed her and she was through with taking things slow. Which was why tonight she was planning to take matters into her own hands.

Literally.

Gunn was going to be at her apartment in less than ten minutes and she was ready. Candles lit. Wine poured. Sheets changed. Dawn at a friend’s house with threats of death if she came home early for any reason other than she was dying. Faith in town and in charge of the troops for the night. And Buffy had triple-checked that Spike and Angel were out of town for the weekend.

The doorbell rang and Buffy took a deep breath. It was now or . . . well, never was already the path they were headed down so as far as she was concerned the only option was now. She stood on tiptoe and checked the peep hole to make sure he was alone, and then swung the door open.

Gunn’s eyes widened when he saw her, then dipped down as he took in the sight of her body clad in barely-there lingerie. Buffy smiled, triumphant, but he was definitely looking south of her mouth and she managed to turn it into a purely sexual smile by the time he was actually looking at her face again.

“I’m feeling a little overdressed,” he said, his eyes rising to meet hers. They held a heat that burned into her and she wasn’t sure if it was the chilly night air or his gaze that made her nipples tighten under the flimsy lace covering them. Gunn’s eyes strayed lower again and he stepped inside, pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers as he swung the door closed behind him. He was still kissing her, tongue coaxing at hers, when he reached behind his back with one hand and turned both deadbolt locks. Buffy moaned into his mouth when his hands slid down to cup her rear and lift her into him. She could feel his cock already hardening in his jeans and she wanted to feel it, harder, in her hands, her mouth, inside her.

She broke off the kiss and moved her lips to his ear, her hands snaking inside the lapels of the brown leather jacket he was wearing.

“Let me help you with that,” she whispered, and smiled at the way he shivered when her breath hit his ear. He captured her lips again and she pushed the jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as she began hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. Gunn shifted his grip and lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. His shirt was mostly off, hanging by the tails that were still tucked into the back of his jeans, when he backed her into the wall next to the door.

“Thought we were taking things slow,” he mumbled against her lips, his hands back on her nearly-bare backside. He thrust into her, lightly, just enough for her to feel how hard he’d gotten in the minute since she’d opened the door. Buffy felt the pressure build, knew she was just as ready as Gunn was. They’d had weeks of foreplay and she was past ready. Probably already halfway to done, if the way her clit was already throbbing was any indication.

“Been there. Done that. Want to speed things up a little,” she said, grinding into him with each phrase and earning a low groan in return.

Gunn didn’t answer, not in words because his mouth was otherwise occupied on her neck, her shoulder blades, her chest, but he shifted her in his arms and carried her down the hallway to her bedroom, never lifting his lips and tongue from her skin. When he got to her bed Buffy let her legs drop from his waist, her knees landing on the mattress in front of him. He let go of her long enough to finish pulling his shirt off and when Buffy unbuckled his belt and slid down his zipper, pushing her hands under the waistband of his jeans and boxers to sweep them down, he stilled her hands by covering them with his own.

“You sure? What about Dawnie?” he asked, but he was nibbling her lower lip and it was several seconds before she could actually answer. Not that she minded.

Buffy pushed through the lightly restraining pressure of his hands and his remaining clothes puddled at his feet. She slid her hands back up his bare thighs and around to grip his jutting erection. Gunn’s eyes closed at the contact and his hands moved to rest on her shoulders. “I’m 110% positive of at least two things. . . that I’m a so ready for this, and that I don’t want to talk about my sister or anyone else right now.” She leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the smooth round head of his cock, reveling in the sound of Gunn’s hiss and the way one of his hands moved to caress her hair.

They didn’t talk about Dawn, or anything else for long minutes as Buffy stroked him, took him into her mouth, licking and sucking, before he moaned and pushed her away and back down on the bed. He bent down to pull off his shoes, leaving her alone on the soft pillow of her down comforter. For a moment she was disappointed because she loved everything about going down on him, the way he swelled in her mouth until he barely fit, the way he tasted, the way he felt hot and a little papery against her tongue, and then there was the way the muscles in his stomach bunched and contracted and told her exactly what he liked without him having to utter a word. But she couldn’t stay disappointed when his weight joined hers on the bed and then settled half-over her, or when his mouth and hands traveled down her body, quickly dispensing with the bra and lace panties she’d spent an hour picking out.

Feeling him, skin to skin, was better than she ever imagined it could be.

Gunn didn’t leave an inch of her body untouched, sent fire through her veins when his tongue traced a path from the soft skin of her inner thigh to the softer, wetter skin above it. But it seemed like Buffy had been waiting forever for this and she wanted him inside her, right then, so she flipped them over and slid onto him, taking the first inch of him inside her and then letting him grip her hips and thrust the rest of the way in. When he was filling her, one hand on the fleshy part of her hip and the other reaching up to grip the back of her neck and pull her down for a kiss, Buffy thought she could die happy.

Ecstatic. Tingling with pleasure. And she could do it with the best view in the world: Gunn’s hard body and soft eyes under her, in her.

They moved together, hands roaming and mouths probing, the sounds of their pleasure mingling in the still air of her bedroom. It was perfect, mind-numbing even, and soon Buffy was on the edge.

“I want to hear you call me baby again,” she breathed as she planted her hands on his chest and rocked forward, contracting her muscles a little even as she slid so just the tip of his cock was inside her, then edging back down.

“You like it when I call you baby, huh?” Gunn’s eyes were half-closed and his voice was lower, deeper than usual.

“Mmm hmmm” she murmured, then moaned when he thumbed her clit with just the right amount of pressure to send sparks slamming through her body.

“Like that too, don’t you baby?” Gunn asked with a groan, the hand that was on her hip gripping her with enough force to bruise.

“God yes,” Buffy gasped. And she did, a lot, so much that she couldn’t hold back anymore and she came in clenching waves around him. He followed her with a strangled breath, thrusting up into her, until they both lay breathless, sweaty chests sliding together until neither had the energy to move anymore.

When the air started to feel chilly against the drying sweat on her skin, Buffy moved off of Gunn and snuggled into his side. She sighed happily when he buried his mouth in her tangled hair and kissed her scalp. It had been a long time since she felt like this, and the more she thought about it, maybe she’d never felt exactly like this. This . . . this was new . . . she felt close to him, open to him, fearless with him.

Sex with Gunn had definitely been worth waiting for.

Gunn lifted his head and rolled over her, his leg fitting between hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face with gentle hands and leaned in to kiss her. Another happy sigh, and Buffy kissed him back, then smiled at him when he pulled away to look her in the eye. He hesitated, running a thumb over her cheek as he looked at her, and then smiled back.

“Is it too early for me to tell you that I’m in love with you?” There was the barest hint of uncertainty in his eyes, like Gunn was afraid that she was going to reject him but all Buffy could concentrate on was the feeling of joy that flooded through her.

“Nope, too late,” she said, playfully. At his confused and slightly hurt look she hurried to continue. “You’re supposed to tell a girl you’re in love with her to get into her pants, not when she’s already naked and at your mercy,” she finished, tipping her face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and nipping at the skin there.

He laughed and the sound reverberated through his skin and into her mouth, making Buffy feel like she was inside him, laughing with him. “Is that right?”

“Yep. That’s what Cosmo always said to watch out for,” she teased, kissing her way back to his mouth and sliding her tongue inside. When their lips parted again she was panting a little, swept up in the feelings his words and body were creating.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. . .” Gunn said, his smile fading just a little as the doubt came back and Buffy knew her boyfriend was hot and smart, but still a little slow on the uptake.

“Me? I’m the picture of blissed out, satisfied comfort, the very opposite of uncomfortable. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret. . . in a minute I’m going to tell you that not only is it not too soon, but I’m in love with you, too,” she promised, her smile growing into a giggle at the sight of the slow grin that spread over his face.

Gunn shifted again, on top of her, and Buffy spread her legs and wrapped them around him, twining her legs with his. He leaned over her on his elbows and kissed a path from her collarbone to her ear.

“So you’re going to tell me that in a minute, huh?” His breath tickled and she arched up until her nipples brushed against his chest.

“Well. . . I’m not gonna tell you so much as show you,” Buffy answered, with a flick of her tongue against his lips.

And she did.



The Live Reasonably Happy Ever After


Buffy set down the box and stepped back to survey the modest size loft with a smile on her face. It might not be very big but it had great floor to ceiling windows and shiny wood floors. The agent had called the neighborhood “transitional”, which was fancy talk for “be glad there’s on-site security”, but it was definitely a step up from the old one.

The best thing about it was that it was theirs, hers and Gunn’s, and they were going to live here together like any other normal couple with a mortgage and a fish and night jobs fighting the evil dead.

Okay, so maybe the evil dead part wasn’t so normal but Buffy didn’t think they were doing bad otherwise. She was still heading the non-profit and working with about a dozen slayers stationed with her in L.A. Things had finally slowed down a little about six months ago when they’d closed the last dimensional tear leftover from Angel’s Last Stand so she had decided to take some business classes at one of the nearby community colleges in her free time. Now that she was responsible for making sure the books were balanced, Buffy figured she needed a little help in the money management department.

It was paying off. She was now the proud owner of half of a 30-year debt.

“I’m out of the house for 2.5 seconds and you guys rushed off to buy the ultimate love shack. I don’t know whether to be happy for you or pissed that you waited until I was in college to move out of demon central.” Dawn dropped the pillows she was carrying and wandered through the kitchen, trailing her fingers on the smooth granite countertops. Her eyes skated through the open space until they landed on Buffy.

Little Dawnie was all grown up, and it absolutely killed Buffy. Dawn had been enrolled at U.C.L.A. for about a week before she’d come home and announced that she was getting an apartment with Erica, her best friend and one of Buffy’s slayers. Buffy told Dawn there was no way in any hell dimension that she was going to move out on her own, and their apartment had turned into a war-zone of pregnant silence and glares that promised death or worse to anyone caught in the crossfire. It had taken Gunn’s careful intervention for Buffy to see that Dawn needed some independence and that she couldn’t stop her little sister from growing up.

“Please, like we could afford this while you were still on the grocery bill,” Buffy replied, eyebrows raised. Dawn rolled her eyes and started to protest, but she was interrupted by a strangled cry coming from the open doorway. They turned to see Jake, Dawn’s boyfriend, straining under the weight of a solid wood entertainment center as he stumbled over the pillows that Dawn had left in the hall just inside the door.

Buffy winced. “Be careful not to scratch that against the doorframe,” she called out, then turned back to her sister. “Come see the master bathroom. You’re going to go into serious drool mode.” She could hear Gunn and Jake carefully setting down their load in the bigger living space as she led Dawn into the bedroom.

“Hey man, how come we got stuck carrying the heavy stuff? Buffy’s the one with the super strength.” Jake was breathing hard and when Gunn’s answer floated through the loft, his voice was muffled. Buffy didn’t have to see him to know that he had the hem of his shirt pulled up and was using it to wipe sweat from his face. She’d seen him do it often enough after a workout, and strangely, it was kind of a turn-on.

“Dude, don’t even go there. If it isn’t a demon carcass, Buffy doesn’t lift it. She has this whole algorithm worked out for when something is slayer-work and when it’s men’s-work. I don’t even pretend to understand and if I were you I’d get used to the fact that Summers women don’t always make sense.”

Buffy and Dawn exchanged smiles. It was good to hear the men bonding, even if it was over their mutual exasperation with the sisters. Dawn had been dating Erica’s twin brother for several months now, and it was only recently that Jake had worked up the nerve to start coming around again. Early in their relationship, Gunn had stopped by the girls’ apartment to put up some shelves for Dawn and found a half-dressed Jake asleep in her bed. Lucky for Dawn, she was in class. Unlucky for Jake, he wasn’t. Gunn could be very menacing when he wanted to be and according to an irate Dawn, he’d wanted to be.

Gunn was very protective of Buffy’s sister, had pretty much adopted her as his own and he’d made it clear to Jake that Buffy would be the least of the kid’s worries if he hurt Dawn. Apparently, sleeping with Dawn fell in the “hurt Dawn” category. This was also information Buffy gleaned from her sister’s complaints, and she was quick to let Dawn know just how deaf her ears were on that subject.

That night, Gunn had gotten very lucky.

Buffy stepped into the master bathroom and flipped on the light, moving to the side as Dawn pushed her way in.

“Holy crap, look at this bathroom! The bathtub is big enough for tw. . . ewwwww.” Dawn’s excited voice faded as she crinkled her nose. “Never mind. I don’t even want to go there.” Her eyes brightened as her eyebrows lifted. “Does the guest bath have a tub?”

Now it was Buffy who didn’t want to go there. She raised and eyebrow and fisted her hands on her hips. “No. Just the basics and a very tiny shower stall.”

Dawn shrugged. “Well then I’ll just have to steal your bathroom when I sleep over.” She gave the room one last glance before turning around and leaving for the main room again. Buffy watched her go, her impossibly shiny brown hair swinging in a ponytail, and shook her head.

It had been Gunn’s suggestion to upgrade to the two bedroom loft, even though it meant that the rest of the space was smaller to make up for the extra room. Buffy had been excited to be taking this step with Gunn, but there was definitely an element of sadness to the move, to leaving the home that she’d shared with her sister for almost two years. He insisted that they make sure Dawn would always have a place to come home to and Buffy was relieved but she knew it wasn’t just for her. Dawn had come to partially fill a hole in Gunn’s life that had been gaping and bleeding since he lost Alonna. They were a family, the three of them, and Buffy wouldn’t have it any other way.

Buffy flipped off the bathroom light and went back out to help Dawn start unpacking the kitchen while Gunn and Jake finished unloading the furniture. It was a hot, muggy L.A. summer day and Buffy thought she should probably make sure there were a few glasses out so the guys could have some water after their next trip.

A few hours later the kitchen was littered with discarded packing paper, a pizza box with a few stray crusts, and the exhausted remains of two formerly strapping young men. Now Gunn and Jake just looked. . . wilted. Jake was sitting on one of the barstools next to Dawn, his head pillowed on his arms on top of the island. Gunn had foregone a chair to sit on the floor with his back against the wall, directly next to one of the central air vents. His head was tilted back, arms loped around his raised knees, and the poor baby looked exhausted. Buffy wadded up her napkin and threw it in the pizza box, then slipped off her barstool and plopped down on the floor in front of Gunn. He spread his legs and made room for her as she slid back between them.

“You’re all sweaty,” Buffy informed him as she snuggled back into his chest and turned her head to peck his jaw.

He grunted and wrapped his arms around her. “And you’re not. What’s up with that?”

Buffy was starting to feel a little guilty for sticking Gunn with most of the heavy work while she and Dawn puttered around, unpacking here and there but mostly talking about the fine art of interior decorating and the challenge of mixing her homey contemporary style with Gunn’s bachelor minimalism.

She picked up one of his hands and laced their fingers together. “Look at it this way. Now I can brag about how you’re my big muscular macho man to all of my friends. Plus, Dawn and I made up the bed so it’s all ready for you with clean, cool sheets.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course you’ll need to take a shower first.”

Gunn buried his head into the juncture of her shoulder and neck and peppered it with kisses. “I think your big macho man might need some help soaping his muscles in that shower,” he whispered into her ear.

Buffy smiled and squeezed his hand. That wasn’t going to be a problem at all.

Dawn hopped off her chair and shoved Jake’s shoulder until he raised his head.

“Speaking of beds, I’m beat,” she announced, ignoring the incredulous look that Jake was shooting her. “Plus, I need to do some reading for Chem. There’s supposed to be a quiz tomorrow.”

Gunn groaned and dropped Buffy’s hand. “Thanks for the reminder Dawn. I have a stack of witness reports to review before I get anywhere near those nice clean sheets tonight. Does anyone know where my briefcase is in this mess?”

“I think it got put in the spare room. I’ll go get it.” Buffy jumped up and grabbed Gunn’s outstretched hand to pull him up as well. Leaving them to find the garbage bags and pick up the dinner mess, Buffy wove around boxes until she was in the room that would serve as Dawn’s room and the home office.

Gunn had been working as an Assistant District Attorney for almost a year now and he was making quite a name for himself in the violent crimes division. They hadn’t been dating for long when his bar renewal notice came in the mail, and Gunn had spent days brooding in silence until Buffy made him spill. He told her he felt like he’d lost his mission, that helping her was great but he’d spent his whole life fighting for people who couldn’t help themselves. Then there was the guilt of how he’d come by his knowledge and credentials, not to mention the kinds of cases he’d tried and won as Wolfram & Hart’s chief counsel. Gunn said he thought maybe he should renew his bar membership and then do something meaningful with it.

The Los Angeles County D.A.’s office had been ecstatic to have Gunn and offered him the salary to prove it. Then they put him to work and made him earn it. Often it meant weeks where she barely saw him as he prepared for a trial; nights on end when she went out on the streets without him. She missed having him at her side, but he was still fighting the good fight, helping the helpless, and Buffy was proud of him. She could handle the supernatural monsters; she trusted him to take care of the human ones.

Buffy found the soft-sided black briefcase that held his files and returned to see Dawn and Jake getting ready to leave. Gunn was sliding something into Dawn’s hand as they hugged.

Busted.

“Found it, Gunn!” she said, announcing her presence. She hid a smile at the matching looks of guilt that colored her sister and boyfriend’s faces as they parted. Padding over to the door, she quickly hugged Dawn and smiled widely at Jake. “Thanks for your help, guys. Call me tomorrow and tell me how you did on your quiz. And tell Erica not to be late for patrol on Tuesday.”

Dawn cocked her head and gave Buffy the “you are not my mother so don’t act like it look” that Buffy had gotten used to over the last several years. “Yeah yeah,” she muttered as she grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him out of the loft.

Buffy toed the door to shut it, but the rug Dawn had thrown down earlier was stuck near the hinge, keeping it from closing all the way. She bent down to fix it and wiggled her hips when Gunn gave her a low whistle.

She was just thinking what a good guy Jake was turning out to be when his voice filtered in through crack in the door as he and Dawn waited in the hall for the elevator. “How come Buffy calls her boyfriend by his last name? It’s kinda weird.”

Buffy heard Dawn groan, just as the elevator dinged to announce its arrival. “Just please don’t ask her about it. Sometimes when people asks she makes this joke that I think is supposed to be about his arms but always comes off sounding like she’s comparing his penis to a 12-gauge shotgun and. . . no one has the heart to tell her.”

Buffy’s eyes widened and flew to Gunn. He was grinning, his shoulders shaking as he held back his laughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hissed, punching him lightly on the arm. She must not have hit him as lightly as she intended though, because he reached up to rub his arm even as he continued to laugh.

“My girl making everyone think I’m hung like a porn star and I’m supposed to argue with that? Baby, come on, you have to admit that’s funny.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms with a wide grin.

She didn’t have to do any such thing. She told that joke to everyone.

“I told that joke to the new watcher Giles sent,” she pouted, her face flushing hotly as she remembered the way the woman had almost looked offended. Now that she thought about it, people always did look at her strangely and hurry to change the subject. Buffy just thought she was being clever. . . who wanted to hear that she called him Gunn out of habit? It just hadn’t ever seemed right to call him Charles, just like she’d never in a million years be able to call Giles Rupert. It was a thing.

Of course now that she thought about it, it was kind of funny. She shook her head, her face cracking into a smile as she pushed Gunn away.

“You owe me a foot rub for every time you didn’t say anything, buster.” Her boyfriend gave great foot rubs.

“Yes ma’am.” Gunn leaned down to kiss her, his mouth unerringly finding just the right rhthym. Buffy sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, losing herself in the feel of his lips and tongue for several long moments. When he pulled away she was breathing harder than she had all day. Not that that was saying much, but still, she was breathing hard.

“I’ve got to go take a shower and do some work tonight,” he groaned, pulling away from her and walking toward their bedroom. Buffy followed him, admiring the way his butt looked in the basketball shorts he was wearing.

He was standing in the threshold of the bathroom, stripping off his shirt, when Buffy remembered his exchange with Dawn at the door.

“I saw you slip Dawn that extra $20 when you thought I wasn’t looking. Between the two of us, we could be funding a pretty hefty crack habit.” Buffy had told him on several occasions not to give Dawn money like it was candy. She wanted her sister to learn some financial responsibility in case anything ever happened to them and they weren’t around to take care of her. Plus, Buffy still gave her a decent allowance every month out of the Guild accounts for the research help she provided. The girl was definitely not starving.

Gunn pretty much ignored Buffy in that department. The slightest pout on Dawn’s lips and he pulled out his wallet with amazing speed.

There was that flash of guilt again, but it was quickly replaced by a mischievous twinkle in Gunn’s eyes. “That’s why I gave her the extra bill. . . asked her to pick me up a dime bag on her next run. I’m gonna need something if I have to start coming home to a nag like you every day.”

And that’s when it all clicked for her. They were together, and would be for a very long time. Maybe forever.

“We live together now,” Buffy breathed, a hint of awe in her voice. For a long time she’d believed that she would never have this with anyone. Love, friendship, a home. . . bills. It was a good thing Gunn made the money he did because he was definitely going to have to cover most of the mortgage on the loft, even if it was in both their names.

“Yeah, we do.” And there was awe in his voice too.

“I’m pretty sure this officially makes you my sugar daddy,” Buffy informed him with a little smile. It widened as he looked her up and down, his white teeth flashing at her in a sexy grin.

“Well then come over here and give daddy some sugar,” Gunn said, opening his arms wide.

It was a good life.

--End