(no subject)
Quick little entry, wishing everyone a happy Memorial Day! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY lexibexi!! I LOVE YOU!
Now, down to business. I love this layout so bad, but I made it so that I could post this fic that's been on my comp for about a year. I've made a new layout that I want to put up, so it only makes sense that I finally post the fic, ne? So here it is, my self-indulgent Buffy/Richard fic because yes... I am (probably) the ONLY B/R shipper out there.
the bare minimum
post-chosen ; self-indulgent buffy/richard
She's a little different than he remembered in that little black dress, but then again, a lot can happen in two years. Her blonde hair is a little longer, her smile a little brighter. But he can see the same girl he met that night. That night which he still calls his craziest ever, beating out the time his frat brothers got him drunk, put him in a dress and made him serenade the local fraternities in a parking lot.
He crosses the room of the trendy club, drawn to her presence and familiarity. "Buffy?" he asks as he sits down on the stool next to her at the bar.
She stares at him for a minute before she places the face and her memory kicks in. "Richard." It comes out washed in disbelief and understanding. You can take the girl out of Sunnydale... her brain sings.
A grin spreads across his face. "I thought maybe you'd forgot who I was."
"Oh, come on," she says looking down at her ice-filled glass and playing with the straw. "My best birthday. How could I forget that?" she quips sarcastically.
The bartender comes to take his order, and Richard gladly orders a beer and takes a swig. "Yeah," he agrees. "That was some night."
Buffy nods her head a little and turns back to face him. Curiosity killing her, she blurts out, "So what are you doing here?" Off his offended expression, she apologetically explains with a wave of her hand, "I meant in Rome."
"Vacationing with some friends," he tells her simply. "What about you?"
"I kind of, um, moved here."
He watches her nervously fold her napkin on the counter and knows there's more to the story than she's letting on to. "What happened to Sunnydale?"
She looks him hard in the face and narrows her eyes. "You don't know?"
Shaking his head, he confesses, "I haven't been in Sunnydale for a long time. 'Bout a week after your party, I got transferred to Santa Monica. Never went back to good ol' SunnyD."
"Gone," she whispers.
"You mean..." He is floored and takes another gulp of his beer. "How?"
"Um," stammering to come up with an excuse, she finally lies, "earthquake." A twinge of pain hits her in the stomach, and her eyes close, willing away the heartbreaking memories of screaming and dying girls that she dreams about every night.
All he can say is, "Man," and lets out a shaky breath. "Xander? And Anya? Are they okay?"
Her eyes open again, not knowing where to begin. Her voice is low while she recalls the events of the past year, only including the bare minimum and leaving out the worst. "Well," she starts and inhales deeply. "They never got married."
"Wow," he interrupts, setting his beer down to concentrate on the girl weaving a dire story of a past that he hadn’t been there to see.
"Yeah. It was awful. Xander left Anya at the altar. She was devastated. And then, last year..." Her voice cuts off, but she is determined to find it again. "She died in the earthquake."
"God, poor Xander. That's harsh. But he's all right?"
"Well, he had an accident and lost his left eye. It's taken a while for him to deal with Anya's death, but I think he's coping better." She sips at the water that has formed in her glass and listens to the awkward pause.
Richard sits there silently for a moment, taking everything in. "Where is he? Do you think I could talk to him?"
She smiles at him, touched that he still cares about the friend he hasn't seen for so long. "He's in Africa, if you can believe it. Doing the big trek thing." She conveniently leaves out the part about how he's also looking for more newly chosen ones, figuring that Richard has heard enough for one night.
"What about you?" he wonders, and his concern warms her. "How are you holding up?"
Her gaze falls from his eyes to study his blue polo shirt, desperately trying to avoid the question. She's building herself and Dawn a good life here in Italy, but there are still some things she wishes. Things she dreams about at night. Mostly what was and what could have been. But sitting here with Richard was just one more step in the 'Bettering Buffy' process. "I, uh, I lost someone," she admits. "In the earthquake."
"Man, I'm sorry," he comforts her and leans forward to rest a hand on her shoulder.
Buffy suddenly remembers how good it feels. How good innocence can feel. That's what she is right now with Richard. Innocent. And it's refreshing. She doesn't want to forget her friends or her life back in Sunnydale; that will always stay safe in a special place in her heart. But today, here and now, talking with the boy in front of her just feels so right. Like she can remember and live at the same time. That must be the secret to a Better Buffy.
"Yeah," she says softly and takes his hand so that it is entwined with hers.
His face lights up, and she returns with a shy smile. Maybe she really can truly be happy again. Maybe she can learn to remember and live and love and still be all right without betraying anyone. And maybe Richard can help her.
ETA: Because it amuses me:
Huzzah.
Now, down to business. I love this layout so bad, but I made it so that I could post this fic that's been on my comp for about a year. I've made a new layout that I want to put up, so it only makes sense that I finally post the fic, ne? So here it is, my self-indulgent Buffy/Richard fic because yes... I am (probably) the ONLY B/R shipper out there.
the bare minimum
post-chosen ; self-indulgent buffy/richard
She's a little different than he remembered in that little black dress, but then again, a lot can happen in two years. Her blonde hair is a little longer, her smile a little brighter. But he can see the same girl he met that night. That night which he still calls his craziest ever, beating out the time his frat brothers got him drunk, put him in a dress and made him serenade the local fraternities in a parking lot.
He crosses the room of the trendy club, drawn to her presence and familiarity. "Buffy?" he asks as he sits down on the stool next to her at the bar.
She stares at him for a minute before she places the face and her memory kicks in. "Richard." It comes out washed in disbelief and understanding. You can take the girl out of Sunnydale... her brain sings.
A grin spreads across his face. "I thought maybe you'd forgot who I was."
"Oh, come on," she says looking down at her ice-filled glass and playing with the straw. "My best birthday. How could I forget that?" she quips sarcastically.
The bartender comes to take his order, and Richard gladly orders a beer and takes a swig. "Yeah," he agrees. "That was some night."
Buffy nods her head a little and turns back to face him. Curiosity killing her, she blurts out, "So what are you doing here?" Off his offended expression, she apologetically explains with a wave of her hand, "I meant in Rome."
"Vacationing with some friends," he tells her simply. "What about you?"
"I kind of, um, moved here."
He watches her nervously fold her napkin on the counter and knows there's more to the story than she's letting on to. "What happened to Sunnydale?"
She looks him hard in the face and narrows her eyes. "You don't know?"
Shaking his head, he confesses, "I haven't been in Sunnydale for a long time. 'Bout a week after your party, I got transferred to Santa Monica. Never went back to good ol' SunnyD."
"Gone," she whispers.
"You mean..." He is floored and takes another gulp of his beer. "How?"
"Um," stammering to come up with an excuse, she finally lies, "earthquake." A twinge of pain hits her in the stomach, and her eyes close, willing away the heartbreaking memories of screaming and dying girls that she dreams about every night.
All he can say is, "Man," and lets out a shaky breath. "Xander? And Anya? Are they okay?"
Her eyes open again, not knowing where to begin. Her voice is low while she recalls the events of the past year, only including the bare minimum and leaving out the worst. "Well," she starts and inhales deeply. "They never got married."
"Wow," he interrupts, setting his beer down to concentrate on the girl weaving a dire story of a past that he hadn’t been there to see.
"Yeah. It was awful. Xander left Anya at the altar. She was devastated. And then, last year..." Her voice cuts off, but she is determined to find it again. "She died in the earthquake."
"God, poor Xander. That's harsh. But he's all right?"
"Well, he had an accident and lost his left eye. It's taken a while for him to deal with Anya's death, but I think he's coping better." She sips at the water that has formed in her glass and listens to the awkward pause.
Richard sits there silently for a moment, taking everything in. "Where is he? Do you think I could talk to him?"
She smiles at him, touched that he still cares about the friend he hasn't seen for so long. "He's in Africa, if you can believe it. Doing the big trek thing." She conveniently leaves out the part about how he's also looking for more newly chosen ones, figuring that Richard has heard enough for one night.
"What about you?" he wonders, and his concern warms her. "How are you holding up?"
Her gaze falls from his eyes to study his blue polo shirt, desperately trying to avoid the question. She's building herself and Dawn a good life here in Italy, but there are still some things she wishes. Things she dreams about at night. Mostly what was and what could have been. But sitting here with Richard was just one more step in the 'Bettering Buffy' process. "I, uh, I lost someone," she admits. "In the earthquake."
"Man, I'm sorry," he comforts her and leans forward to rest a hand on her shoulder.
Buffy suddenly remembers how good it feels. How good innocence can feel. That's what she is right now with Richard. Innocent. And it's refreshing. She doesn't want to forget her friends or her life back in Sunnydale; that will always stay safe in a special place in her heart. But today, here and now, talking with the boy in front of her just feels so right. Like she can remember and live at the same time. That must be the secret to a Better Buffy.
"Yeah," she says softly and takes his hand so that it is entwined with hers.
His face lights up, and she returns with a shy smile. Maybe she really can truly be happy again. Maybe she can learn to remember and live and love and still be all right without betraying anyone. And maybe Richard can help her.
ETA: Because it amuses me:
Huzzah.