Buffy Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whattingawhat) wrote2008-04-25 08:51 pm
whattingawhat) wrote2008-04-25 08:51 pm
Entry tags:
Somewhere I belong
Buffy plopped down on the couch, sending the blue and chocolate colored pillows she’d recently bought flying to the ground. She put one foot on the ground and stretched out her arm to collect them all and put them back on the couch. She’d been working most of the afternoon, pushing things around, moving furniture and unpacking stuff. Four weeks ago, Danny’s apartment had been a typical bachelor pad. The furniture was nice and everything was clean enough but it was obvious a woman didn’t stay there for an amount of time. Now, in the month she’d known him, his apartment had changed drastically. It had sort of become her apartment too even though they’d never really had that ‘you should move in’ discussion. There had always been this understanding that she’d find her own apartment there; this situation was temporary. Only it didn’t look temporary. Not anymore.
There were pillows on the couch and candles on all the tables that hadn’t been there before. As a joke she’d taken her favorite pair of Marc Jacobs heels and arranged them on the end table against the lamp. She’d hung a couple of her dresses on the ends of the curtain rods for the same joking factor. She’d told him she was going to empty her suitcase and decorate with its contents. So now she was unpacked, suitcases mostly empty and stored under the bed; clothes in the closet next to his, dresser drawers appropriated and shoes lining the floor of the closet. And how could guys live with so few pairs of shoes? It was a mystery she’d never really get. She’d moved the weapons chest Xander had made her out of the corner and to the foot of the bed then she’d draped this white Shetland wool blanket she’d gotten in Scotland across the top of it.
The bathroom had been completely Buffy-fied. There were candles sitting on the counter alongside bottles of bubble bath. Her shampoo was on the shower shelf next to Danny’s and her toothbrush occupied the space next to his. She kept most of her bathroom stuff in a basket under the sink because really, she was kind of a neat freak but her perfume sat out next to Danny’s cologne. She actually had washed some of her stuff in the sink earlier so her bras and some really cute underwear were draped across the tub and hanging from the shower rail. She thought Danny would be amused in any case and he needed something to smile about.
Her coats, and there were too many-- She might have a jacket fetish as well as a shoe fetish; the jury was still out on that—were hung in the front closet next to Danny’s and everything looked cozy, couple-ly and that worried her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the cozy, couple-ly because she did, a lot but there was still so much that he didn’t know and leaving would be so much harder now with the packing and the making sure she got everything so he didn’t have to be reminded of the freak he’d dated once weeks later when he came across the top of hers that had slipped behind the bed.
“Right, enough of that,” Buffy told herself as she pushed up off the couch, ducking into the kitchen, past the punching bag that hung in the door frame. That was new as well, and courtesy of her. When she’d first hung it, she’d been good about taken it down after her workout but now, a week later, they were just ducking past to get something to drink or silverware or whatever. It wasn’t like either of them used the kitchen a great deal. Buffy had banned herself from using fire unless she intended on destroying things with it but Danny cooked breakfast some mornings when he didn’t have to go into work. She grabbed a glass of milk and carried it out to the balcony. She sat it down on the small mosaic side table she’d bought and all but laid down in the massive papasan chair that had been delivered today. Danny was constantly out on the balcony smoking and thinking. She thought he should have a place to sit so she’d ordered it last week. She grabbed the eggplant blanket she’d put out there and snuggled into the papasan. She opened the small drawer in the side table and pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter then lit one and set it in the ashtray as she pulled her feet into the chair with her and wrapped her hand around her glass of milk. She had a trashy romance novel already sitting in the chair but for now she’d just sit here, smell the cigarette smoke and watch everything outside. Unpacking was a good idea, even if it would make everything cut like glass later. This had been Danny’s place before but now, with her things scattered around it instead of regimented to suitcases in a corner of the bedroom, it felt like hers too.
There were pillows on the couch and candles on all the tables that hadn’t been there before. As a joke she’d taken her favorite pair of Marc Jacobs heels and arranged them on the end table against the lamp. She’d hung a couple of her dresses on the ends of the curtain rods for the same joking factor. She’d told him she was going to empty her suitcase and decorate with its contents. So now she was unpacked, suitcases mostly empty and stored under the bed; clothes in the closet next to his, dresser drawers appropriated and shoes lining the floor of the closet. And how could guys live with so few pairs of shoes? It was a mystery she’d never really get. She’d moved the weapons chest Xander had made her out of the corner and to the foot of the bed then she’d draped this white Shetland wool blanket she’d gotten in Scotland across the top of it.
The bathroom had been completely Buffy-fied. There were candles sitting on the counter alongside bottles of bubble bath. Her shampoo was on the shower shelf next to Danny’s and her toothbrush occupied the space next to his. She kept most of her bathroom stuff in a basket under the sink because really, she was kind of a neat freak but her perfume sat out next to Danny’s cologne. She actually had washed some of her stuff in the sink earlier so her bras and some really cute underwear were draped across the tub and hanging from the shower rail. She thought Danny would be amused in any case and he needed something to smile about.
Her coats, and there were too many-- She might have a jacket fetish as well as a shoe fetish; the jury was still out on that—were hung in the front closet next to Danny’s and everything looked cozy, couple-ly and that worried her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the cozy, couple-ly because she did, a lot but there was still so much that he didn’t know and leaving would be so much harder now with the packing and the making sure she got everything so he didn’t have to be reminded of the freak he’d dated once weeks later when he came across the top of hers that had slipped behind the bed.
“Right, enough of that,” Buffy told herself as she pushed up off the couch, ducking into the kitchen, past the punching bag that hung in the door frame. That was new as well, and courtesy of her. When she’d first hung it, she’d been good about taken it down after her workout but now, a week later, they were just ducking past to get something to drink or silverware or whatever. It wasn’t like either of them used the kitchen a great deal. Buffy had banned herself from using fire unless she intended on destroying things with it but Danny cooked breakfast some mornings when he didn’t have to go into work. She grabbed a glass of milk and carried it out to the balcony. She sat it down on the small mosaic side table she’d bought and all but laid down in the massive papasan chair that had been delivered today. Danny was constantly out on the balcony smoking and thinking. She thought he should have a place to sit so she’d ordered it last week. She grabbed the eggplant blanket she’d put out there and snuggled into the papasan. She opened the small drawer in the side table and pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter then lit one and set it in the ashtray as she pulled her feet into the chair with her and wrapped her hand around her glass of milk. She had a trashy romance novel already sitting in the chair but for now she’d just sit here, smell the cigarette smoke and watch everything outside. Unpacking was a good idea, even if it would make everything cut like glass later. This had been Danny’s place before but now, with her things scattered around it instead of regimented to suitcases in a corner of the bedroom, it felt like hers too.