All the Best Parties
Jul. 19th, 2017 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover
Summary: Angel needed a favor.
Word Count: 1177
Rating: Teen
Notes: There might be a sequel to this story eventually. Maybe. It depends on how fickle the muses are. Also, fun fact, this whole fic started with the image of Cordy in the dress.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover
Summary: Angel needed a favor.
Word Count: 1177
Rating: Teen
Notes: There might be a sequel to this story eventually. Maybe. It depends on how fickle the muses are. Also, fun fact, this whole fic started with the image of Cordy in the dress.
We’re supposed to go to a party. The demon kidnapping ring is supposed to be there, like practically everyone else in LA, but they’ve seen both Angel and Wesley’s faces, so they can’t escort me. I’d be a little annoyed that they don’t think I can take care of myself, but I’ve learned my lessons in Sunnydale, and even the fighters shouldn’t go on their own.
Angel assured me that it’d be fine and told me to get ready. I went with a sleeveless grey. I haven’t worn it yet, and it’d be boring if it wasn’t vaguely metallic. It’s a little cold waiting outside, but a shawl wouldn’t match my dress.
And then a car drives up. I couldn’t tell you the exact model, given that I stopped paying quite so much attention when I stopped putting on the whole ‘spoiled rich girl’ persona, but I’m pretty sure it’s an old Cadillac in exceptional condition.
And then a familiar head pokes out the window, and it takes everything not to clap my hands like a little girl on her birthday.
“Angel called for an escort service.” He winks, and I can’t stop the giggle.
“You’re not his type. I’m surprised he still had your number.” He gets out of the car and comes to the other side to open the door for me, like a gentleman. He cleaned up nicely in his tux. He looks like he can fit in, but then, I wouldn’t be too surprised. He’s got Tony Stark’s memories, after all.
I mentally resolve to get Angel better blood than normal. He deserves a treat for this.
Xander pouts at me, clutching at his chest. “You’re exaggerating, right? No one can get enough of me.” He closes the door carefully, then comes over to the other side. “Oh, right, I forgot, I come bearing presents. Enough to get you to admit you missed me?”
I grin. “Depends on the present. If it’s another comic collection, I may disown you.”
He starts off, and his driving has gotten a lot better since the last time I saw him. Fast and a bit reckless, but he’s a lot more in control. “Excuse you, I saw the condition of those comics, even if they were hidden in your closet.” He smoothly goes around another car going a little too slow for his taste as if it’s effortless. Like the car is an extension of his body, and maybe that’s honestly what it’s like, being Iron Man. “Check the package under your seat.”
I reach down, and there’s a sloppily wrapped present under my seat, enough to show me he’d done it himself. At least the ribbon and paper look nice. And they match my dress, which—
“Hey, you buy things on the credit card in my name, technically I know about it,” he shrugs, smirking in my direction and smoothly coming to a stop at the light. “I don’t usually check, but I was trying to figure out what color to go with, and Star pointed out you were most likely to wear this dress, so that solved that.”
I open the package and gasp in delight. It’s an Exoskel. I recognize the lines from him explaining it, explaining the magic and how it works and I don’t actually remember all of it, but I actually listened at the time, which is more than Willow did. And it’s silver, so it matches my dress and isn’t too flashy and looks like it belongs—
I fling myself into a hug just as the light turns, and he chuckles. “I appreciate the appreciation, but trying to drive here, honey.”
He takes the corner too fast, which makes my stomach turn. I put the bracelets on immediately. “This may be one of my favorite presents I’ve ever gotten; thank you.” And a thank you to the AI too. I knew she’d come around.
“You’re welcome.” He lights up. But then, he absolutely loves being generous, giving people that smile. “It’s keyed to your biometrics, so no one else can use it should they get their hands on it, and I figured a general silver is good enough to match most outfits, so…” he trails off, then repeats, “You’re welcome.”
“You know, I w-i-s-h that you weren’t here for business so we could gossip about how attractive all the men at the party are.” I sigh. “You’re here for a bit longer, right?”
“Until the end of this thing.” He shrugs. “I’ll be the dashing, eccentric inventor. For whatever reason, I think that’s a role I can play convincingly.”
“I’m an actress just waiting for that big role to propel me into stardom.” I match his grin. It’s like we’re spies, and I know better than to let on to most people that I actually enjoy that.
“We’ll be the most convincing fake couple there.” He pauses. “You’re not really, right?”
It’s his I can fix that if you ask me to voice, and I roll my eyes. “I’ve had a few roles, but they’re not as fun as I’d thought growing up. I’m good saving the world. While looking good, of course.”
“Of course,” he responds, warmth back in his voice, and we’re silent for a bit.
And then a thought occurs to me. “How’re you going to deal with the champagne?” I hadn’t heard the full details from Anya—and I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to—but ‘he nearly died of alcohol poisoning’ wasn’t what I wanted to hear following his wedding. I would’ve been there, but Angel sat in my hospital room to make sure I didn’t stage a daring escape to go attend.
At least Anya and I are talking. She’s convinced that I was against their relationship because I knew he had issues (which was only part of the problem, but when it means that she’s acting more like a normal human being and talking to me, I’m not going to try to convince her otherwise) and was even a little peeved that I didn’t warn her (to which I responded with the obvious “would you have listened to me?” which had a long, long silence after).
He makes a face like he’s just swallowed a lemon, and his steady hands falter a little at the wheel. Maybe no one else has brought it up, afraid he’s breakable glass. The thing is, he’ll never come to terms with it if he doesn’t confront it, and I’ve never believed in pussyfooting around the truth. “I’ve been working on that, actually.” I’m kind of scared as to what he’s going to say next. “Practicing with grape juice,” he continues, rolling his eyes as if my concerns are over the top. “I’ve got a spell that makes it look like it goes away, and I’ve got sleight of hand for the rest. I’ve got this.”
He shrugs his suddenly tight shoulders as he slows down for the traffic ahead. “Besides, if I look like I’m drowning, I’ve got you to rescue me.”
“That’s right,” I respond fiercely.
Angel assured me that it’d be fine and told me to get ready. I went with a sleeveless grey. I haven’t worn it yet, and it’d be boring if it wasn’t vaguely metallic. It’s a little cold waiting outside, but a shawl wouldn’t match my dress.
And then a car drives up. I couldn’t tell you the exact model, given that I stopped paying quite so much attention when I stopped putting on the whole ‘spoiled rich girl’ persona, but I’m pretty sure it’s an old Cadillac in exceptional condition.
And then a familiar head pokes out the window, and it takes everything not to clap my hands like a little girl on her birthday.
“Angel called for an escort service.” He winks, and I can’t stop the giggle.
“You’re not his type. I’m surprised he still had your number.” He gets out of the car and comes to the other side to open the door for me, like a gentleman. He cleaned up nicely in his tux. He looks like he can fit in, but then, I wouldn’t be too surprised. He’s got Tony Stark’s memories, after all.
I mentally resolve to get Angel better blood than normal. He deserves a treat for this.
Xander pouts at me, clutching at his chest. “You’re exaggerating, right? No one can get enough of me.” He closes the door carefully, then comes over to the other side. “Oh, right, I forgot, I come bearing presents. Enough to get you to admit you missed me?”
I grin. “Depends on the present. If it’s another comic collection, I may disown you.”
He starts off, and his driving has gotten a lot better since the last time I saw him. Fast and a bit reckless, but he’s a lot more in control. “Excuse you, I saw the condition of those comics, even if they were hidden in your closet.” He smoothly goes around another car going a little too slow for his taste as if it’s effortless. Like the car is an extension of his body, and maybe that’s honestly what it’s like, being Iron Man. “Check the package under your seat.”
I reach down, and there’s a sloppily wrapped present under my seat, enough to show me he’d done it himself. At least the ribbon and paper look nice. And they match my dress, which—
“Hey, you buy things on the credit card in my name, technically I know about it,” he shrugs, smirking in my direction and smoothly coming to a stop at the light. “I don’t usually check, but I was trying to figure out what color to go with, and Star pointed out you were most likely to wear this dress, so that solved that.”
I open the package and gasp in delight. It’s an Exoskel. I recognize the lines from him explaining it, explaining the magic and how it works and I don’t actually remember all of it, but I actually listened at the time, which is more than Willow did. And it’s silver, so it matches my dress and isn’t too flashy and looks like it belongs—
I fling myself into a hug just as the light turns, and he chuckles. “I appreciate the appreciation, but trying to drive here, honey.”
He takes the corner too fast, which makes my stomach turn. I put the bracelets on immediately. “This may be one of my favorite presents I’ve ever gotten; thank you.” And a thank you to the AI too. I knew she’d come around.
“You’re welcome.” He lights up. But then, he absolutely loves being generous, giving people that smile. “It’s keyed to your biometrics, so no one else can use it should they get their hands on it, and I figured a general silver is good enough to match most outfits, so…” he trails off, then repeats, “You’re welcome.”
“You know, I w-i-s-h that you weren’t here for business so we could gossip about how attractive all the men at the party are.” I sigh. “You’re here for a bit longer, right?”
“Until the end of this thing.” He shrugs. “I’ll be the dashing, eccentric inventor. For whatever reason, I think that’s a role I can play convincingly.”
“I’m an actress just waiting for that big role to propel me into stardom.” I match his grin. It’s like we’re spies, and I know better than to let on to most people that I actually enjoy that.
“We’ll be the most convincing fake couple there.” He pauses. “You’re not really, right?”
It’s his I can fix that if you ask me to voice, and I roll my eyes. “I’ve had a few roles, but they’re not as fun as I’d thought growing up. I’m good saving the world. While looking good, of course.”
“Of course,” he responds, warmth back in his voice, and we’re silent for a bit.
And then a thought occurs to me. “How’re you going to deal with the champagne?” I hadn’t heard the full details from Anya—and I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to—but ‘he nearly died of alcohol poisoning’ wasn’t what I wanted to hear following his wedding. I would’ve been there, but Angel sat in my hospital room to make sure I didn’t stage a daring escape to go attend.
At least Anya and I are talking. She’s convinced that I was against their relationship because I knew he had issues (which was only part of the problem, but when it means that she’s acting more like a normal human being and talking to me, I’m not going to try to convince her otherwise) and was even a little peeved that I didn’t warn her (to which I responded with the obvious “would you have listened to me?” which had a long, long silence after).
He makes a face like he’s just swallowed a lemon, and his steady hands falter a little at the wheel. Maybe no one else has brought it up, afraid he’s breakable glass. The thing is, he’ll never come to terms with it if he doesn’t confront it, and I’ve never believed in pussyfooting around the truth. “I’ve been working on that, actually.” I’m kind of scared as to what he’s going to say next. “Practicing with grape juice,” he continues, rolling his eyes as if my concerns are over the top. “I’ve got a spell that makes it look like it goes away, and I’ve got sleight of hand for the rest. I’ve got this.”
He shrugs his suddenly tight shoulders as he slows down for the traffic ahead. “Besides, if I look like I’m drowning, I’ve got you to rescue me.”
“That’s right,” I respond fiercely.
