Work Text:
The Perfect Gift
Between the demon slaying, cemetery patrolling, and finals cramming, she didn’t have time for present shopping this year. Now, here she is, on the evening of December twenty-third, sitting before the computer in her old bedroom (which is stacked up wall-to-wall with her mother’s stuff from the gallery) wondering if any online shop delivers on Christmas Eve. She has to buy those footie pajamas Willow’s been making not-so-subtle hints about, the typical black graphic tee for Oz, fat history books for Giles about the Neolithic period (whatever the hell that is), old-fashioned penny candy for Xander, crystals for Anya (because Anya is dating Xander now and it’s pretty much expected that everyone will get the former vengeance demon something), paintbrushes for Joyce…
She has a gift in mind for all of the special people in her life … Everyone except Riley. Because honestly, what do you buy for the uber-tall, uber-hunky TA who makes your knees feel bucklely and is giving you perpetual night sweats? They aren’t even, like, dating. Not really anyway, not unless you count those hot makeout sessions in the university library. Strictly PG-13, above-the-waist type stuff, but she likes being with Riley. She just wishes they got to spend more time together. If only things didn't get in the way so often: like training, and vampire ass-kicking, and trying to make sense of her trigonometry coursework (as if she’s ever going to use this stuff in real life!).
So yeah, she definitely needs to get him a present. He is going to spend Christmas Day with her and the Scoobies after all. It would be pretty lame if she didn't have something sitting beneath the tree with his name on it.
What do I get for Riley? She wonders. A gaudy greeting card that says “thanks for all the hot makeout seshes”? Or maybe a tee-shirt with the words “Hands off, ladies - he’s mine!” stitched into the fabric? How about a mixtape? Not likely. She hasn’t made one of those since she was in middle school, crushing on that hot soccer player in the grade above.
She shakes her head firmly. No, none of that stuff works. It has to be something good. Something meaningful, but not too sentimental or too presumptuous either.
So, what do you get the man who has everything?
***
Christmas Eve finds Buffy scurrying through the local department store in desperate search of something, anything, that she thinks Riley might want or need. Muffling a yawn behind his chubby hand, a tired store clerk reminds her about their holiday hours. The place closes early tonight, so she has less than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to find the perfect gift. What is the perfect gift anyway?
Sighing deeply, she finally decides to visit the men’s wear department. She finds only three ugly sweaters there. Everything else has been picked over.
What am I going to do? I don’t even think these things will fit him. He has those shoulders. Those big, broad, sexy shoulders…
“Buffy, is that you?” A voice cuts into her thoughts.
Buffy swings around, a grimace pulling at her lips. “Parker,” she says.
Parker Abrams smiles at her, gives her a bright, toothy grin that would have melted her insides a few months ago, but now leaves her feeling cold and vaguely ill.
“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” Parker says, oblivious to her discomfort.
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? I don't want to be around you."
“You’re not still mad about… what happened… Are you?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad that you made a fool out of me and called me a clingy freshman girl?”
“Okay, but I am sorry for all that.”
She lifts a carefully sculpted eyebrow. “Are you now?”
“I am. Really. Can we put the past in the past where it belongs and start over?”
“Hmm. Let me think about that... Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Buffy. Let me take you to dinner. We’ll go some place nice, where we can wine, dine, dance…”
That invite would have made her swoon so hard before, but it just makes her frown now. “Look, Parker-” she starts to say, but she is interrupted by a feminine voice trilling his name.
“Parker?” A woman calls. “Yoo-hoo, Parker! Where are you, baby?”
Buffy has to lock her hands behind her back to keep from bitch slapping Parker through the grimy floor. He was coming onto her when he was out with some other girl? What a freaking tool!
He gives her a weak shrug. “Gotta go,” he says. He mimics putting a phone to his ear. “Call me?”
Buffy mocks hanging up the phone. “Not even if my life depended on it."
Parker is already sauntering away. He locks arms with a willowy brunette, and they stroll away together as Elvis croons “Blue Christmas” over the sound system.
“You piece of-” Buffy starts, but she stops when a voice crackles over the loudspeakers, announcing the doors will close in five minutes.
“Five minutes? How am I supposed to find the right gift in five minutes?” She panics.
A store clerk gestures to her, pointing towards the exit. “No, you can’t close up. Not yet! I still haven’t found anything for my boyfriend.” Boyfriend? Is Riley her boyfriend? While they've done pretty much everything but have sex, they’ve never tried to label their relationship before.
Riley Finn. Boyfriend. She lets that idea sink in for a moment and decides it feels good; it feels right.
“My boyfriend,” she whispers. “Riley Finn is my boyfriend. He’s hot, and nice, and loyal. He's like the anti-Parker. He would never treat me like gum he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.”
“M’am?” An approaching clerk taps his watch pointedly. “We’re closing now.”
Buffy sighs as she reluctantly walks towards the exit. She never found her boyfriend a gift, and it’s too late now because Christmas morning will be here before she knows it.
***
Christmas morning arrives and with it, a flurry of last-minute activity. Buffy and Joyce string the last of the lights and tinsel, and then Joyce heads to the kitchen to whip up some sort of breakfast quiche thingie.
The doorbell rings as Buffy is putting the finishing touches on a brightly wrapped present.
“Buffy, will you get that?” Joyce calls to her.
“Sure, Mom,” Buffy agrees. She slaps a bow on the package and tosses it under the tree before going to open the front door.
“Merry Christ-” she starts. She breaks off when she finds Riley leaning in the doorway, smiling at her and looking unnecessarily sexy in an ugly reindeer sweater.
“Merry Christ… mas,” he returns with a cute smile. He holds a bouquet in one hand.
“Hey there,” she says. Her stomach muscles flutter.
“Hey there… I'm sorry if I’m a little early.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here.” She gestures to the flowers. “Are those for me?”
“No... They’re for your mom." He pulls a red bag from behind his back. “This is for you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to.”
Buffy takes the bag. She holds it up to her ear and gives it a solid shake. “Hmm, I wonder what it could be?”
“You can open it now if you want."
"My mother wouldn’t forgive me if I did. She likes to personally inspect everything I get.” Buffy sighs. “Speaking of gifts … Riley, I have to be honest with you. I didn’t get you anything.”
“That's alright.”
“No, it's not." She splays her hands. "Honestly though, I wanted to get you something, but nothing seemed right, you know. Nothing screamed, ‘Riley Finn needs this!’ I’m sorry. You probably think I’m like some kind of Scrooge, holding out on the good stuff.”
“I actually don't think that."
“The Grinch, then maybe? Snatching up all the joy and presents in Whoville?”
He shakes his head. "Really, gift or no gift, I’m just happy I get to spend the day with you.”
Buffy’s face heats. “I am pretty happy about that too."
Riley places the bouquet on the end table. Closing the distance between them, he reaches for her hands, curling her tiny fingers in his much larger ones. Her heart pounds like a kick drum.
Lifting on her tiptoes, she trails steady fingers along the curve of his strong, freshly shaven jawline. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then they are kissing, and it feels amazing. His breath is minty-fresh, his mouth warm, and his tongue gentle, as it presses against the seam of her full lips.
They are both panting and breathless when they come up for air. She presses her flushed face against his taut chest. “That was nice,” she says huskily.
“Just nice? I think I can do a little better than nice.” Taking her words as a challenge, he places a careful finger beneath her chin and draws her face upward until they are locking eyes. Riley Finn has beautiful eyes.
He presses his mouth against hers as his fingers tangle in the thick waves of her hair. Their kisses are more urgent this time, feverish. Full of desire and wanting.
When the doorbell rings, they part reluctantly.
“To be continued?” Buffy asks.
“I am counting on it."
She reaches for the doorknob, smiling as she realizes they were standing underneath the mistletoe the whole time.
***
Joyce oohs and aahs over Riley’s thoughtful bouquet as the Scooby gang gathers around the tree to make merry and open gifts. Buffy's gaze continually strays to Riley, only to find him staring at her underneath his pretty blonde eyelashes. She is really hot for him but manages to resist the urge to heave herself into his lap and ask him to take her, just take her already.
Xander, wearing a jaunty, off-killer red felt hat, has appointed himself “The Santa Claus” today, and is passing out the gifts. He picks up the red bag, reading the tag. “To Buffy. From Riley.”
Xander hands her the bag as she glances over at Riley again. He offers her a quiet smile.
“Well, open it already,” Anya says. “Before the Fourth of July maybe.”
Buffy’s pulse thrums as she opens the paper bag. She immediately breaks into an even bigger smile.
“What is it? What did he get her? I can’t see,” Xander complains. His hat has slipped down, covering his eyes.
Buffy holds up a pair of new black boxing gloves as she stares at Riley questioningly. “What else do you get for the girl who can and has kicked my butt?”
Buffy chuckles. “Thanks. They’re awesome.”
“There’s something else in there,” Riley says.
Buffy snakes her hand into the bag, closing her fist around a small blue box.
“Is it jewelry?” Xander asks. “Did he get her jewelry?”
Anya swipes at her boyfriend’s arm. “Is it that big of a deal?”
“It is to me,” Buffy replies. As she opens the little box, a soft sigh of pleasure parts her lips. A silver cross necklace, inlaid with her birthstone, dangles between her fingers. “Riley, wow. This is really too much.”
"I hope you like it."
"I totally like it... Put it on me?”
Buffy’s eyes are misty as Riley gingerly lifts her blonde curls from the nape of her neck and slides the chain around her throat, closing the clasp. He squeezes her shoulders. His hands are big and strong. It’s all she can do not to turn around and throw herself at him.
“The necklace is really pretty,” Willow enthuses.
“It certainly will come in handy… in Buffy’s line of work,” Giles admits.
Xander pouts. "Well, it certainly puts the coffee cup I got Anya to shame.”
Anya looks at him. “You got me a coffee cup?”
"Hey, it has a very nice design!"
Oz tries to defuse the tension. “Nothing says ‘I love you’ like Folger’s in your cup."
Anya finally smiles. “It does, doesn’t it? You love me, Xander! You love me!”
Xander tugs at the collar of his Frosty the Snowman sweater. “Well, now, uh -” He breaks off as Anya launches herself into his arms.
Willow giggles at the couple's antics as she snuggles back into Oz’s chest. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had since … ever.”
“High praise coming from my Jewish buddy,” Xander grins. Anya bops him on the arm. “Ow."
“I have Oz, and Xander has Anya, and Buffy, you have Riley,” Willow sighs. “And Giles… he’s got like ten new books, and your mom has her flowers and new paintbrushes...”
Riley grins at Buffy.
“It's the perfect holiday,” Oz agrees.
Riley meets Buffy’s eyes. “Yeah, pretty darn perfect,” he says.
***
Much later in the day, Oz and Willow depart in his van while Anya absconds with Xander and her new coffee cup. Joyce gives Giles a ride back to his place, which surprises Buffy a little, but she goes along with it because it gives her some alone time with Riley.
They are sitting by a fake fire, and she’s wrapped up in his strong arms, feeling safe and cozy.
“Did you have a nice day?” Buffy asks him.
Riley brushes her forehead with his soft lips. “An amazing day.”
“Even though I didn’t get you anything?”
Riley nods. “Even though."
She smiles, palming his face. “Thank you, Riley. I mean, for being you and for always trying to make me happy. You’re totally different from every other guy who came before you. I mean, not that there were so many guys who came before you, but … well, you get what I’m trying to say, right?”
“I think I do.”
Buffy snuggles deeper into his arms, and they kiss until she almost forgets her name.
She runs her fingers up and down his biceps. “Would you have any particular interest in maybe … being my boyfriend? Like, officially speaking?”
“Yeah, I think I might be interested in something like that. What would be my duties, you know, as your ‘official’ boyfriend?”
She taps her lips as if in deep thought. “Oh, you would have to be brave and thoughtful. Sweet and kind. And most importantly, you must look devastatingly hot in an ugly reindeer sweater.”
He laughs. “I promise to try my best.”
“I know you will… You’re a good guy, Riley. I know I can be a lot…”
“It works for me... because I want a lot of you.”
“How do you want me?” Buffy’s voice is high.
He pulls her tightly to his chest, tugging on the hem of her flowy white blouse. “About right here.”
Her breaths come fast and hard, as if she’s just run a 10k. She is practically riding him, but tries to force down the heady, pleasurable feeling fogging up her brain because, of course, her mom could be home any minute and Joyce does not need to find them like that.
“Have I thanked you yet for the gloves and for this?” She touches her necklace.
“About twenty times.”
“Well, I do. Really love them, I mean.”
“I’m glad. And you’re wrong, by the way."
"About...?"
“You said you didn’t get me a gift.”
“Because I didn’t…”
“Spending time with you, being around you, holding you like this... The way you look at me like I’m something special… That's a gift, Buffy. Honestly, what more could I ever want?"
“Okay, you seriously need to stop saying things like that, unless you want me to turn into a big pile of girly mush.”
“I’m okay with girly mush.”
Buffy smiles. “I guess maybe I am okay with it too," she allows.
She strokes his fingers as he rests his forehead against hers.
“Merry Christmas, Buffy.”
“Merry Christmas, Riley.”