Disclaimer: All I own is Andrew.

Author's Notes: Happy (belated) birthdays to banana, Felicity, and Andra. A B/A fluff fic for all of you, enjoy.

Don't ever expect me to do this again. *g*

General Note: Alternate fluff universe. No clause, no spin-off show, but Spike is a reluctant member of the group. Buffy and Angel are living together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel waited impatiently for Buffy to come home. He wandered restlessly around the apartment, searching for something to distract him.

Finally ending up in the kitchen (an area that rarely required his presence), he started washing the dishes that Buffy had left neatly stacked in the sink. When she left this morning, she must've been running late, because she was usually fastidious about washing her dishes. Another interesting quirk in her personality, because he usually found her clothes draped over every surface. His orderly bathroom had been irrevocably changed, and now he sometimes had a hard time finding his shaving kit among the chaos of her personal toiletries.

Not that he really needed to find it lately. When she had first moved in, Buffy had watched with interest as he shaved. Or, rather, cut himself. Even after two hundred years, Angel had just never gotten the hang of shaving without a reflection. The small nicks healed within a few minutes, but still hurt nastily. After a week of listening to the nightly ritual of yelping, Buffy had just rolled her eyes, marched into the bathroom, grabbed the razor, and had shaved him herself. That put an end to Angel's usual early-evening appearance of looking as though he had been attacked by a weed-wacker.

After washing the dishes, Angel carefully put them into the small dish rack that Buffy had brought with her. That - and the microwave - were the few small touches that she had added to the kitchen. The rest of the apartment had not escaped as easily.

Angel could still remember the night - not even three days after she had moved in - when she had pushed aside the book he was reading and plopped gracefully onto his lap. Quickly dashing any romantic hopes he had held, she had calmly informed him that it was time to redecorate.

And redecorate she had. Nothing extravagant - since they *were* on a budget - but she had added small touches that managed to completely lighten the apartment's oppressive atmosphere. Which made brooding next to impossible.

Also, the newest occupant of the apartment always seemed to know when Angel was about to start brooding, and always started complaining. Loudly.

Quickly glancing around, Angel quickly located Andrew, who was glaring at him from the couch. He returned the frosty glare. There was no love lost between the vampire and the poodle.

After three months of living together, Angel had finally thought that he and Buffy had settled in. Then, Buffy came home one evening with a miniature black poodle cradled in her arms. Andrew had entered the building.

"Animals hate vampires," Angel had protested, "plus, he'll shed over everything."

"It was Spike who suggested that you might like some company during the day when I'm at work." Buffy had responded as Andrew curled onto her lap in pure doggy bliss, "And he matches the furniture. The fur won't stand out as much."

With a sigh, Angel had given in, and reached out to hug Buffy. Which is when Andrew bit his hand.

As it turned out, the uppity poodle despised Angel. He also adored Buffy, and seemed to take personal offense whenever Angel intruded on their time together. The looks the little poodle gave Angel whenever Buffy took him for a walk during the day were practically smug. But then, so were the looks that Angel gave the dog whenever he and Buffy went out at night.

Buffy found the male turf war in their apartment quite amusing. So did everyone else, including Spike. It disturbed Angel to no end that Andrew actually liked Spike. Of course, the dog also liked Xander, so there was no accounting for taste.

The sound of a key in the lock caused both vampire and dog to sit up quickly.

The door slammed open, and Buffy stalked in. She was liberally splattered with some kind of black slime, and dirt and mud were caked on her face and arms.

Angel barely noticed. Striding quickly to her side, he was about to kiss her when she pulled back with a grimace.

"Angel, I'm filthy! I'll see you when I get out of the shower."

Buffy started to walk to the bathroom, but paused when Angel followed right behind her.

"Whatever it is, it had damn better wait until I'm clean." she snarled.

Angel just grinned at her. "Need someone to wash your back?" he asked, quirking his eyebrows suggestively.

Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Angel, I need a shower, not sex." With that, she disappeared into the bathroom.

Angel collapsed on the couch glumly. After a moment, he could hear the water turn on. Without him. With another sigh, Angel slumped further down into the couch.

Andrew, on the other hand, perked up considerably. Jumping onto the floor, the little dog padded over to the bathroom, where he began scratching on the door and whining pitifully.

"May you have as much luck as I did." Angel said, smirking at the dog's odds. If Buffy wouldn't even let *him* in, what luck did the dog have?

Apparently a lot. "Angel! Let Andrew in before he ruins the door!" Buffy yelled. The dog gave him that smug look again as Angel grudgingly obeyed his girlfriend.

Opening the door, a wave of warm air hit Angel in the face. Andrew ran through the opening and curled up on the small throw-rug in front of the sink. But all Angel had eyes for was Buffy, whose outline he could see through the steamed-over shower door. He stood there for a long moment, trying to swallow through a throat gone suddenly dry when Buffy turned and called, "Angel, you're letting in all the cold air! Get out!"

Half an hour later, Buffy came out in a considerably better mood. Snuggled in her terry-cloth robe, her freshly washed hair surrounded her face like a golden halo. Walking over to where Angel was still slumped on the couch, she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. With a sigh of contentment, Angel put his arms around her and pulled her against him. Slowly lowering his head, he gently captured her lips with his own. In response, she shifted even closer, sliding her arms around his neck-

Which is when they were interrupted by Andrew. The malicious poodle leaped into Buffy's lap and rolled onto his back for a tummy-rub in one well-practiced movement. Angel nearly snarled at the bundle of black fur, who was gazing up at them with velvet-soft black eyes that seemed utterly innocent. Buffy laughed, and stroked Andrew's soft fur, which of course only encouraged him.

Angel's heart sank as Buffy got up gracefully and walked back towards the shower.

"I think my hair still smells a little like monster-goop. I have to wash it again now." she called to him.

"Okay, hun." Angel said, dropping his head into his hands in defeat.

For a long moment there was silence, and then he heard her teasing voice.

"Well? Aren't you coming?"

Looking up, Angel saw her grinning wickedly at him as she walked into the bathroom. Quickly pulling off his shoes, Angel followed her.

As he walked in, he heard the soft jingle of dog tags.

With a smirk, Angel slammed the door in Andrew's face.

The End, damnit!