Work Text:
Buffy looked at the Cyndaquil in her arms. It gazed back, and yawned.
“Found him by a grave.” Angel watched them—or her, she suspected giddily.
“Not a good place,” she agreed. “Poor little guy.” He was so round!
“I thought since you like Fire types…”
Buffy smiled, and Angel looked suddenly aglow. She smiled wider. “Thank you.”
A recently evolved Ninetails, and now a Cyndaquil. Fire was handy. She contemplated the Pokémon, who seemed to have fallen asleep, then the man before her.
“I like the cute types too,” she said on impulse.
Um. Oops.
But he did smile.