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I Can't Do This Series - Must Be The Dress -- by Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Description: Poor Willow. She just doesn't get it, sequel to I Can't Do This.
Note: Dedication -- To everyone who sent me feedback after the first part. I went straight past overwhelmed and right on to stunned!! Thanks, guys!:-)
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
"Angel?" Buffy said.
Angel pulled back from Willow, but kept his arms around her waist.
"Hi, Buffy," he smiled.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"What are you wearing?" Xander asked Willow as he appeared beside the slayer's elbow.
"Dancing," Angel answered.
"Clothes," Willow answered. Buffy and Xander exchanged confused stares.
"Looks delicious, doesn't she?" Angel grinned and looked down at
Willow, savoring the way her breasts curved up and around the bodice of her dress. Buffy looked sideways at Xander and noticed his eyes were riveted to the same area of Willow's anatomy. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Willow, every guy in here is looking at you," Buffy warned her.
"Who could blame them?" Angel asked. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on her."
"You've been doing a hell of a job of it up to this point!" the slayer snapped.
Willow stepped away from Angel, avoiding Buffy's annoyed glare.
"I think what Buffy's trying to say is that you should go home and put on some clothes," Xander said.
Willow flashed him a hurt look and stepped around her friends. Angel's eyes followed her to the door.
"I think I'd better walk her home," Angel said coolly. "There are all kinds of heartless creatures roaming around at this time of night."
Buffy gaped at the tall vampire as he strode past them and followed Willow's exit.
"I'm sorry, Willow," Angel said softly as he fell into step beside her.
"It was a dumb idea. The dress, the dance, all of it," she whispered.
He took her arm and turned her to face him, "Don't say that! You look wonderful. You felt pretty damn hot, too."
"Angel!" she gasped.
He chuckled and crooked a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to him.
"Tell me about Willow. Who do you think she is?" he asked.
A puzzled frown wrinkled her brow.
"I'm serious. Who are you?"
She shrugged, "I'm a perfect 4.0 student who thinks books are more valuable than diamonds and who gets along frighteningly well with computers."
"Go on," he urged.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm just your average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill Willow."
He shook his head in disbelief, "You know who I think you are?"
"Who?" she asked.
He pulled her against him and kissed her. "Angel--"
The vampire took advantage of her protest and drove his tongue inside her mouth. She struggled against him, and he responded by tightening his embrace. He deepened the kiss and moved his hand up to cup her breast, brushing his thumb along the soft mound. She trembled against him as her body melted into his.
A soft pant escaped from her lips as he released them.
"Angel, this is wrong," she told him. "This isn't us."
He arched an eyebrow, "It sure felt like us."
"It's the dress!" she exclaimed. "Yeah. That's what it is. Tomorrow I'll be back to jeans and a sweater. Plain old Willow, that's me."
He smiled, "Okay, plain old Willow, do me a favor?"
"What favor?" she asked uncertainly.
"Have dinner with me."
"You don't eat," she reminded him.
"I don't have to, but I can," he replied.
"Oh," the idea seemed to strike her interest. "What about Buffy?"
"What about her? If she's as good with a fork as she is with a stake, she can feed herself. Have dinner with me."
"Why?" she asked bluntly.
Angel sighed, "Because I asked you to, friend to friend."
"Friends? Oh, okay. Friends is good. I like friends," she nodded.
"Friends don't kiss. Well, except for an occasional peck on the cheek. A friendly-kiss sort of thing. But not an open-mouth-insert-tongue sort of thing."
Angel laughed and took her hand, "Willow, have dinner with me!"
"Well, maybe. Just friends, though. Friends eating dinner, not friends kissing or friends dancing. That was just the dress."
"Just the dress," Angel tried to sound his most convincing. "I'll pick you up at sunset."
"Okay," she agreed.
"Come on; I'll walk you home. I wouldn't want anything dark and evil getting to you before I do," he said.
She looked up at him anxiously.
"Joke, kitten. It was just a joke!" he grinned. "Must be the dress."
"Straight into the Good-Will bin," she muttered. "First thing tomorrow morning."
The End
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