Title: Not Uncomplicated


Author: Sonya


Rating: PG


Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don’t own. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters, settings, etc., belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, etc. Harry Potter and all associated characters, setting, props, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., etc. No copyright infringement is intended, so please don’t sue – all you’ll get is a really bratty bird and some really spoiled rats.


Pairing: Buffy/Remus Lupin


Summary: Sequel to 'Stranger Thoughts', which was a sequel to 'Stranger Things'. Another blurb in the life of Buffy and Remus; the not-a-date.


***


Rum punch flavored milkshake was officially her new favorite thing in the entire world.


Followed closely by the look in the eyes of the man sitting across the table, watching her watching him. He'd ordered double fudge. A good solid sort of milkshake, that. Rich, intense, but not too out-there. One of the staples of the milkshake world, the double fudge.


This has been nice. Very nice. It ought to be awkward, I think. Sipping milkshakes and staring and the major absense of conversation.


And it's so not.


Which is . . potentially a good thing. Very potentially good. Sweet. Sweet like ice cream . .


"Penny for your thoughts," Remus said.


"Hrmm," Buffy paused in sipping her milkshake. "No can do."


"No?"


"Nope," she affirmed. "No thoughts. Enjoying a pleasant lack of thoughts, here."


"Is that possible?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. "To have no thoughts at all."


"Well, maybe there are thoughts like 'mmm, milkshake good'," she conceded. "Or 'breeze getting chilly' or -" He'd stood abruptly, and was swinging his chair around the side of the table next to hers and pulling off his outer cloak. The next thing she knew there was a slightly frayed but rather soft and sorta warm and male-smelling cloak over her shoulders.


" - or 'cloak warm'," she finished, surprised but tentatively pleased, "but those don't really count for thoughts." He looked faintly embarrassed, settling back down into his chair and reaching across the table for his milkshake.


"Maybe milkshakes outdoors weren't the best idea this time of year," he shrugged a little apologetically. "It was unseasonably warm before it got dark, you know."


"I do know," Buffy agreed, teasing. "I was there, even, when we picked the table."


"Sorry," Remus muttered. "Feel free to ignore my sudden bursts of idiocy."


"Nah, much more fun to make fun of them," she retorted playfully. "Besides, just makes you even with my mouth." He glanced up. "I mean - with - the things that come out of my mouth, like that, for example. My mouth is not connected to my brain," she pronounced firmly, trying not to watch his slightly chocolate-tinged mouth. He grinned, that bad-boy grin that was all at odds with his self-depricating shyness.


"I wouldn't mind being even with your mouth," he smirked, though his cheeks were a little red as he did.


"Hrmm," she pretended to consider, leaning towards him, her own cheeks growing a little warm. I don't even remember the last time I felt like this. Like .. all happy and flirty and like I'd just like to be kissed. "I think I'm having a thought."


"And what would that thought be?" he asked, trying for teasing but still sounding rather hopeful.


"I think . . I wonder if rum punch goes with chocolate," she bit her lip, hoping that wasn't too much.


"Interesting question," his nose was almost touching hers, and he was grinning a little mischievously. "But, to tell, wouldn't your mouth have to be connected to your brain?"


"Oh, fine, pick on me," she pouted.


"How about I give you my opinion?" he suggested, and then his lips were on hers, shockingly warm in contrast to ice cream and cool night air, sweet and faintly chocolatey sticky. She curled towards him as far as the table would allow, hand finding the rough texture of robe over arm, then shoulder, then neck with soft, fine hair perfect for twining between fingers. The tip of her tongue ventured out to taste, and his answered, mouths crushing tighter together. His hand had founds its way under the borrowed cloak and was slipping from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, tugging. Knees bumped under the table.


Something on the table rattled precariously. Buffy broke the kiss with a breathless gasp for air, hand darting out to steady her glass before it tipped. Their heads were still close together, his breath hot and a little ragged against her cheek.


Suddenly embarrassed, Buffy studied the tabletop; she was tempted to grab her milkshake and chug down coolness and sanity, but was afraid how he'd take that.


Because oh yeah, do chocolate and rum punch *ever* go together. Wow. Oh wow. And did I mention wow?


His hand slid up her back, lingered along her jaw, tilted her eyes up to his suddenly serious face.


"Thoughts?" he asked.


"I think I'm scared to death right now," she blurted out, eyes rounding in horror when she realized what she'd said, reaching up to catch at the hand that was still cupping one side of her face, certain he'd be pulling away in offended confusion any moment now. "I didn't mean -"


"No, it's - I think I know what you meant," he hastily reassured her, and his hand stayed right where it was, his thumb beginning to draw nervous little patterns on her cheek. "My life is - not uncomplicated."


"Me too," she agreed, some small portion of her brain wondering when she'd been reduced to monosyllables, while the vast majority was entirely caught up in slight roughness of the pad of his thumb. "You know, Slayer -" There, Slay-er, two syllables.


Help?


"Werewolf," he interrupted pointedly. "And - other things."


"Other things?" she asked, belly giving a slight lurch. No other things. I'm liking this.


"Well, for one, I'm a wizard too," he offered.


"You know, I kinda figured that out," she returned, rolling her eyes in an expansive gesture that took in all of Diagon Alley behind them.


"Thought you might have," he said with a tentative, slightly lop-sided smile. "You seem bright like that."


"Flattery will get you everywhere," she quipped.


"I'll keep that in mind," his smile widened, then slipped, face sobering again. "But - well, I got the impression that you were looking to retire."


"Retire," Buffy repeated blankly.


"From apocalypses and various other sundry disasters," he elaborated.


"Are you planning on trying to end the world?" she asked.


"Well, no -"


"How about your boss? You're not a member of a secret military organization that's trying to end the world, are you?"


"Um, no, but -"


"Ever sucked all the black magic out of a bunch of books and turned your hair and eyes all inky?"


"Well - I think my eyes are probably darker as a wolf, but I've never had a mirror handy."


"I think I can deal," Buffy pronounced. I think I can especially deal with this whole new and exciting communication thing. Huh. Second date, and we're talking. Like, not making conversation, we're actually talking.


And I just admitted this was a date.


Okay, after that kiss, hell yeah, this is a date. And bring on the next one.


"I am going to seriously complicate your life," Remus insisted, sounding rueful and defeated, and entirely too happy about it.


Buffy felt her lips quirking up into a slightly lopsided little smile to match his all-too-cheerfully-resigned expression.


"Good," she said with finality.