Angel had planned this meeting precisely, down to the every second. He knew everything had to run smoothly otherwise it would blow up in his face. He was fairly certain he hadn't breathed once the entire time he waited to find himself alone in the moving elevator with the tiny blonde. She realized what was happening just a sliver of a moment too late and he reached a hand out to stop the elevator from moving any lower.

Her green eyes took him in, the space around them and he could see those gears in her head turning. Buffy flirted with her honey colored locks for a moment before doing a little head toss to get some loose strands back out of her face. She looked at the ground for a moment as she pressed her back against the wall, one foot coming to rest over the other. "What can I help you with, Angel?" she asked, his name coming out almost like a purr.

"You stole my painting," he said as an answer.

She let out a breathy, short puff of laughter. "And?" she countered. "I gave it back."

"That's besides the point," he replied, a smile fighting to spread across his lips.

"And what exactly is the point of this... well, whatever this is?"

Angel unbuttoned his expensive suit jacket before closing the small space between the two of them, her eyes never wavering as he moved toward her. "The point, Miss Summers, is that a very tiny," he said, his voice low, his tongue coming out briefly to lick his lips, "very young woman not only managed to find where I call home but managed to break into said house. And not only once, but twice. She managed to steal from arguably the most impressive cat burglar of modern times," he tooted his own horn, "and what can I say? I was a little impressed."

Her lips pressed together to make a line and she shrugged. "You weren't the person I was working to impress with that move, but I will take it all the same."

Angel knew why she had done it and that only amused him further. They both had done jobs for the Wyndam Pryce's - he much longer than she had - and had both been considered for one that had come up recently. Roger had mentioned to Buffy that they would probably go with him because of his experience and expertise since it was important and apparently she hadn't liked the idea of being passed up over something as ridiculous as age and time. At least that's what he'd gathered from Wesley. He'd been used to help her show off.

He hadn't been kidding when he told her he was impressed by the move. He'd been unable to think of anything but getting alone with her since.

"What are we doing here, Angel? What do you want?"

His head tilted a little, his eyes drinking her in. He had never gotten this close to her before but there had been glimpses before when their paths had almost crossed. None of that could compare to right now though. "I wanted to talk with you."

Her chin lifted slightly to get a better look at him. "Could've just asked."

"I like doing things in my own way."

"Control freak," she said and he wasn't sure if she was pointing it out or asking.

"Sometimes," he breathed, looming over her with one final step.

"So. Talk."

Words didn't come though, his arm wrapped around her waist, hoisting her up to him. Buffy's mouth met his as her legs circled around his waist, her arms around his neck.

The End.