I finally got a personal fic archive up. It will be made prettier whenever I have time to muck around with photoshop, but it pleases me to have the bones up.

The Size of Our Love, Buffy/Angel, R.

Mine. I like.

Damn, Lyra.

Comments in your LJ. I am a total and complete sucker for B/A shmoop.

Beautiful, Lyra.

moving and tragic.

LJ, that story is just amazing.

Thanks! It's so different from what I normally write, but it was the B/A story that made the most sense to me.

I fixed my last scene...I thought the plot would move more but they like to banter, and drag me along.

KAY

Somehow, I knew costumes would come into my relationship with the Munchkin eventually. It had to happen...he would start mumbling about “tragic inevitability” or something I’m sure. You should count your blessings I’m telling this part cause I’ve heard him go on and on about agave...or something like that. It’s true I owe some wild nights to tequila, but that isn’t the same...tequila’s not Greek, is it? I should ask Billy Constantine over at the Western when I get back to Balmer again. On second thought, this is not a story for the squad.

It started simply enough. Munch, as my witness, was telling me where the evidence was. “I have some,” he said. “It’s back at the lair, though.”

“Hey, there, Little Red Riding Hood.” I quoted.

“What?” he asked, fake-innocent.

“ Get serious, John. Like I’m just gonna go into a vampire’s bedroom. I was born at night, not last night. Buddy, I’d take backup into your place human, huh? Let me just round up Gunn and Wesley, and we’ll hit the ground running.”

“But what about Darla and the minions? If Dirty Harry Potter goes charging in there, things could get ugly.”I give him my “Who gives a shit?” face...third most common detective expression, if you’re playing at home.

“For him, too, I mean,” Munch says. “The Princess smells him, it’s curtains.”

“She could *smell* him? You’re just living all kinds of twisted little fantasies here, aren’t you?”

“ Believe it or not, it has a down side. But I’m not out of suggestions. How do you feel about parties?”

“Have you sucked a pharmacist?”

“Yes. The effect was strangely underwhelming. But that’s a story for another day. Now we must prepare for the Wolfram and Hart Annual Revue. You’re going undercover, babe.”

He shows me the little piece of black dominatrix wear I’d be wearing to this shindig. Tight, and leather, and things. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...I was embarrassed just looking at it.”No. Unh huh. Cause you see, Munchkin, undercover usually implies a cover bigger than a rubber postage stamp. My breasts are gonna come in the room five minutes before I do.”

“I’ve noticed.” And the bastard smiles. “Terrible terrible thing...for noble public servant Kay Howard. But not for Kay Howard, fledgling minion.”

“Unbelievable. Gee thinks I’m resting, Munchkin. And I don’t believe you carry that stuff around with you...”

“You never know when an urge will strike,” he says and smirks again. He looks down at my boots. “Those just aren’t quite right. Do you have taller ones?”

“Do I look like I have dominatrix boots?” Jeez, he’s known me how long now?! “And besides I thought I’d be back in the City of the Brokenhearted, as you call it, long before this.”
“Don’t worry... I brought heels, too.”

“This plan gets better and better.” I groan. “Give me a nice drive-by any day. Some nice spent shell casings on the ground or something. Simple stuff.”

“You know I’ve been thinking...”

“You keep playing with that you’re going to go blind, John.”

“Shut up. But nobody’s gonna believe you’re a minion. You have too much authority.” And, stupid me, that crazy back-handed compliment from an undead member of my squad threatens to make me well up. Honest to God, three bullets and I’m a sap. Good thing Chick never knew that or he might’ve shot me.

“Go on, get dressed.” He looks at me thoughtfully for a minute. “You ok?”

“Yeah, sure. Damn pollution.”

“ Right, the misery of particulates. Nothing else?”

“Next time I worry about somebody, I suffer in silence.”

“That’s what all my women say."

“Let’s just get this over with, huh?” And I take the costume and the first pair of shoes, and go in Cordy’s place.

“ I wanted the full effect,” he shouts from outside.

“Keep dreaming!” And then I mumble. “I have.” Damn it, he’s got superhearing now, Howard, you idiot. That’s what you get for paying so much attention to the sound of Wes’ words and not enough to what he said. Ladies, living or dead, men are big pains in the ass.

(giggling like a loon)