John got up from Buffy’s couch when she hesitantly came out of the bedroom. Her flushed cheeks were enough to heat his blood to a fevered pitch, but he didn’t want to spook her. She wore shape camouflaging flannel pajamas, after all.

With a hand on her hip, she said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“But I’m so glad that you are.” He touched his tongue to his upper teeth. “There’s no better way to stay in and watch movies than to be comfortable.” John strolled to the door and opened it for her. “After you.”

Before he even had her door closed, she’d raced to the elevator and was slapping the button. John casually made his way to her and laughed at her jitteriness. The doors opened and she stepped inside, yanking him with her when her patience with his relaxed attitude wore off.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried.”

“Easy for you say when you aren’t the one walking public halls in your pajamas while it’s light outside.”

He tilted his head and grinned at her, taking in her bare feet, long pants and long sleeved shirt. Briefly he wondered if she wore undergarments, but shook the thought out of his mind. To distract himself, he glanced at his watch. “The sun sets in fifteen minutes. And you don’t have a problem walking around in a bathing suit, but pajamas with teddy bears on them make you blush?”

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and Buffy rolled her eyes. “Great.”

Two girls, about twelve, entered and immediately started giggling. John put his arm around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze before he said, “We’re on our way to a slumber party.”

The bolder of the two looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Where are your pajamas?”

The elevator dinged and opened to the second floor. “Oh, look!” Buffy said brightly. “Our floor. Come on.”

They stepped out of the elevator and John led her to his apartment. He chuckled. “Saved by the bell on that one.”

“You don’t know how close I was to telling them that you sleep in your birthday suit and don’t have PJ’s,” Buffy said.

He stopped her at his door and narrowed his eyes at her, his keys in hand. “How did you know that I sleep that way?”

“Uh…” Buffy stared at her painted toes. “Lucky guess?”

John grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure it wasn’t a fantasy?”

The blush was back in her cheeks and all he wanted to do was pull her close and kiss her silly. Instead, he opened the door for her and let her pass. He felt like a ponce while he held his breath and waited for her to be done looking around the open living area.

“This is definitely a bachelor pad, but it’s nice.” She strolled over to his framed movie poster for The Endless Summer and gently touched the glass. “Is this the movie we’re going to watch?”

“Yes, but like I said, we can watch a chick flick if you’d rather.”

“No, I’m dying to see what your favorite movie is like.” She moved to stand by the suede couch and ran her hand over the back.

“The sequel is actually my favorite, but you have to see the first one before you can get the second one.” John headed for the hallway. “Have a seat. I’ll be just a minute. Gonna get out of these convention duds and get comfortable.”

“Ooh, I could make the popcorn while you do that.” She moved towards the kitchen and paused by the long breakfast bar, a smile on her face, as she took in the cluttered collection of shot glasses, beer mugs and wine flutes. “I can tell that a bartender lives here.”

“I wish he’d organize them, but every time he comes home with a new one, he just sort of sets it where he feels like it at the moment.”

She followed him into the small kitchen and he quickly showed her where everything was. Then he left her to it to change. The popcorn was in the microwave by the time he came out of his room in a light gray t-shirt and navy blue cut off sweats. The movie was already in the DVD player, so he sat down and played with the remote until he had it paused and ready to go.

Placing a large bowl of popcorn and two sodas on the coffee table, she sat down next to him. “You do have sleep clothes.”

“These are for when I work out.”

“When do you work out?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with what John could only guess was arousal.

“Twice a week, right here at the apartment gym.” With dry humor, he said, “Great machines, but the place smells rank and I wouldn’t recommend using the showers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

John pointed the remote at the TV. “You ready?”

She reached for the popcorn, nodded and sat back. As the credits started, she turned to him and said, “Do you think your agent liked me?”

John had been impressed with Buffy earlier in the day. She’d quietly tagged along with him, sitting in the back of the conference room when he participated in the panel discussions. She conversed with Gage at the luncheon and even got the serious man to smile a few times, and she’d stood off to the side as John signed books, gazing at him like she was proud of him.

“I think Gage was just as impressed with you as I am.”

She tossed some popcorn into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, not able to contain a relieved smile. “I’m glad. I know how much he means to you.”

“If it weren’t for Gage and his overbearing ways, I’d still be throwing people out of Stranded for one dollar more than minimum wage an hour. Though I sometimes miss the excitement. And I can’t believe I just confessed that to you.”

“How did you meet Gage?”

“He’s an old friend of my therapist. The only person I intended to show my first book to. He sent the manuscript to Gage and he jumped on it.”

They both turned to face the TV as Bruce Brown began to narrate. Buffy was quiet and seemed fascinated with the surfing documentary. He’d seen the movie so many times that he could keep his eyes on her and still see the images in his mind. He just thought it was cool that she was interested in the things he liked. Most of the girls he met were self-absorbed and didn’t give a rat’s ass what he cared about.

John scooted closer to her and as smoothly as he could manage it, he put his arm over her shoulders. Buffy snuggled against him and sighed. It felt right. Like she belonged there in his arms. The powerful emotions he was feeling for someone he hadn’t known very long should be terrifying, but all he could feel was a sense that all was right in the world.

By the time the movie ended, they’d gone through two bowls of popcorn and the room was cloaked in darkness with only the light from the TV illuminating it. They stood together and John couldn’t help but put his hands on her waist when she stretched. She let her hands come down and rest on his shoulders. They stood there like that, just staring at each other for a minute. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to get his hands up her shirt and go further than that, but he didn’t want to seem like a horny jerk.

She broke the spell by saying, “Where’s your bathroom?” But she didn’t move.

“Straight down the end of the hall.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.” Buffy kissed him softly and then she left him there, staring after her and resisting the urge to touch his lips. She stopped in front of the hall. “Can we watch the sequel?”

“You liked it then?”

Her eyes lit up. “I loved it. In fact, you’re going to have to teach me how to surf now.”

Turning off the light as she left the bathroom, she paused in the hall and blinked to give herself a minute to adjust to the dark hall. She walked into the kitchen when she saw the refrigerator light on with the door open. Bent down, John had his head in the freezer. Buffy rubbed her arms, glad that she’d worn her only non-sexy pair of pajamas, because John kept his apartment very cold. As if it knew how cold she was, the air conditioner hummed to life right then.

John jumped when he turned and saw her standing there. He chuckled nervously. “You sure are quiet.” He held up a carton of ice cream. “We had a late lunch so I was thinking maybe ice cream for dinner?”

“That sounds heavenly. What kind do you have?”

He glanced back at the open freezer. “Um, chocolate and mint chocolate chip.”

“Can I have a scoop of each?”

He grinned, grabbed the other cartoon and handed it to her. She couldn’t help but marvel at how domestic they were being as he took two bowls from the cupboard and two spoons from the drying rack. He gave them both generous scoops of each flavor and she helped to put back the cartons.

Reaching into cupboard, he pulled out a bottle of PX Sherry and arched his brow at her. “A little dessert sherry with the ice cream?”

She nodded, so he grabbed a couple of wine glasses. Picking up the cold bowls, she shivered. “Can we have a blanket for the couch? I’m already a little chilly, but if I eat this ice cream, I’m going to be freezing.”

John went around to the couch and stood as he poured the sherry into the glasses. “Sorry about that. Dirk says I keep this place colder than a tomb in Siberia, but I just can’t sleep unless it’s like this.” He’d put the bottle down and swept his arms once in the air as she sat down and he added, “I can turn it down, if you like, or I can get that blanket and we can cuddle underneath it.”

“Blanket,” she said, around a mouthful of mint ice cream.

It was tempting to distract John as the movie started and she almost did it. She could think of nothing else but the idea of smearing his face with ice cream so she could kiss and lick it off. The thought gave her nerves that started in the pit of her stomach and branched out. While she had slept in the same bed or cot with Spike that last year before he’d died, saving the world and destroying Sunnydale, she hadn’t been with him in the physical sense since he’d left for Africa the year before that. They’d been too busy with The First and he’d been too wracked with guilt about the year before to be physical with each other. It might be better if she just jumped his bones now and got it over with so she could stop obsessing over it.

Done with their ice cream, John took her bowl and placed it on the coffee table next to his. He offered her another drink of her sherry and she swallowed small amounts of the sweet beverage. She declined when he offered to fill her empty glass. One was enough for her.

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.

John leaned back on the arm of the couch and held the blanket open for her. Happily, she snuggled on top of him and sighed in contentment when he covered them with the blanket. With her head on his chest, she could hear and feel his heart beat. Strong and steady, beating out a mantra that sounded to her like: ‘I’m alive, alive, alive. I’m alive, alive, alive.’

He must have detected her distress because he asked her, “Is this too intimate for you? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Swallowing hard, she shook her head and barely got out, “No. This is really nice.” She managed to wedge her hands under him and gave him a hug. “Really, very nice.”

With his arms around her under the blanket, she allowed herself to relax more than she ever remembered letting her guard down with any man in her life. He smelled good, like mint and sherry and maybe a hint of laundry detergent. She was full and warm from equal parts him, the sherry and the blanket. It was difficult, but she forced herself to focus on the television.

John said, “The blond guy, Pat, still lives in California and I’ve run into him a few times.”

“Seems like he’d be fun,” she said and then yawned. The guy reminded her of Spike. Pat was high energy and ready for any wave, the way Spike was always ready for a fight. And they had the same hair color too.

John was right; the second movie was more entertaining. The jokes were funnier, the music more lively and the color brighter. But still, Buffy was lulled to sleep by John’s even breathing and the sherry running through her veins.

A pitchman shouting about cleaning supplies jarred Buffy awake sometime later. Not wanting to wake John, she eased up onto her elbows and watched him sleep. Just looking at him did things to her insides. She glanced down between them, licking her lips. The sleep hard-on might also have something to with the hum of every cell in her body.

His shirt had ridden up just enough for her to get a glimpse of the washboard abs that she’d never forgotten. Buffy’s fingers itched to run over them, but she didn’t want to wake him up. She also had to use every ounce of willpower to keep her hips still. If she moved them, just slightly, she knew it would feel great.

Coming to, he stirred and she gently lowered back down to rest her cheek on his chest. She felt him tilt his head up and then he put his hand on her head.

“You all right, pet? Your heart is racing like mad.” His whole body jerked and she had to hug him to keep from getting knocked to the floor. He tried to pry her away, but she held on tighter, not wanting to give up the close contact. “No wonder! I’m…er…hard as—”

“It’s fine. I know it’s because you were asleep.”

His voice seemed to tighten as he strained to say, “Yeah, well, it’s quickly turning into something else.”

There was no willpower strong enough to hold Buffy back now. She eased up on one elbow and slid her other hand under his shirt. John drew in a breath and she could feel the goose bumps rising on his flesh. The familiar feel of his rough hair that narrowed from his navel and went lower was something she’d dreamed about when she thought he was dead. His hand found its way up her shirt, caressing her back.

He whispered, “No bra?”

“No bra.”

With his free hand, he gripped the back of her head and pulled her down on him again. She slid up his body, a little higher, so that their lips could crash against each other. Giving in to the temptation, she slowly moved her hips, now in line with his throbbing hard on. They both let out a low groan and soon his hands were in her pajama pants, gripping her ass and pressing her firmly down on him.

Their tongues slid together as the friction between their clothed bodies intensified. She was close to climaxing from the contact alone; she was so turned on by being with him like this again. It would be easy to shove both of their bottoms off and let herself sink down on top of him. Blindly, she wanted nothing else but to do that, and when she managed to get a grip on his waistband, he suddenly paused and covered her hand with his own.

With concern written all over her face, she raised up again. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh, God, no. You’re doing it all right. Too bloody right is the problem.” He took in a shuddering breath. “We should slow down.”

Her heart was in her throat, but she managed to ask, “Why?”

“Because,” he said earnestly, holding her head in his warm hands and caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I didn’t invite you up here to get you in my bed. I’m crazy about you, I hope you know that. Just think we should take it slow.”

She felt like whimpering, but instead she nodded, only wishing that Spike were there right now. He wouldn’t tell her no. But as she lowered her head back to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight, she realized that John was right and that it was better to slow down.

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. “It’s times like these that I wish I wasn’t so full of integrity.”

“I’m glad you are,” she said, softly.

She reached up again and kissed him gently, doing her best to ignore the pulsing of both their lower bodies and focused on his lips. Seconds later they were kissing passionately again, quickly heading towards the fevered pitch of arousal where they’d left off, when the door banged opened.

John gripped her around the middle, turned them on their sides and looked up.

“Dude,” Dirk said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I’m totally interrupting something.” Buffy couldn’t help but smile as John glared at his roommate who pointed towards the hall. “I’m just going to wash the cigarette smoke off and then hit the hay. Please, resume what you were doing. I was never here.”

They stayed perfectly still until they heard the shower running. Then John loosened his grip on her and shook his head. “Sorry about that.”

She giggled. “Can’t blame the guy for coming home from work.” She glanced around, searching for a clock. “I wonder what time it is.”

John squinted at his watch in the dim light, tilting it at an angle to reduce the glare from the TV. “It’s one o’clock. I think I should walk you home.”

They steamed up the elevator on the ride up, but she stopped herself from inviting him into her apartment. Buffy did give him one last kiss that she hoped would make him dream about her and then she closed the door on him. After a long shower, she fell into bed, staring at the ceiling with a goofy grin on her face until she fell into a peaceful sleep.