Author:
For: marenfic
Pairing: Buffy/Wesley
Setting: Post-"NFA"
Rating: NC17
Words: 1259
Request: Buffy/Wesley, Wesley is Buffy's college professor
Summary: Buffy goes back to college.
Buffy told herself that it was her own decision. Buffy: College student again, only without the wacky time problems. She didn't think about how many strings Giles had to pull in order to get her admitted to a top-notch British university. A university whose name she couldn't pronounce and Giles called it something different than the stationary says. But the city of Oxford had nice cobbley English roads compared to the cobbley Italian roads. It also rained more.
Her first class was something about ancient civilizations. Buffy hoped to find the right room, up a tight windy stairwell, and that her experience as senior Slayer might allow her to sleep through the class. It was an 8 a.m. class, and apparently, the professor was a visiting one and hadn't been named in the course catalogue.
Buffy sat in the front. Her osmosis strategy was to be close as she could to the professor's notes on the black board. At least she remembered what osmosis was, which was far better than her long division.
Yep, the first dork alone in the room at least 10 minutes earlier.
The clocked ticked. At least, it didn't speed ahead or slow down.
A few students trickled in and Buffy took out her notebook and a pen. She hadn't had crisp notebooks since her mother bought her new ones when they first moved to Sunnydale. The ones she'd scribbled her and Angel's names linked together with hearts and promises of forever.
Buffy sighed and convinced herself that her memory was triggered by the kissing couple at the door. She hadn't had a date in almost six months.
She faced the front of the room when the professor came in. He made his way to the front. Was that? No, it couldn't be. It wouldn't be. He looked older, scruffier. Though that stubble was kind of hot. No, bad Buffy thought. But at least, he walked like he finally got that stick removed from his ass.
Yes, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been assigned to teach the ancient civilizations course. Her ancient civilizations course. Now she knew exactly what strings Giles had pulled.
Buffy figured he didn't notice her until he started taking roll. His eyes were wide with shock at first, but then almost amused. She waited until the class ended and the other students scattered before speaking. She never was much of a talker during class anyway, and Wesley seemed to be more of lecturer than a questions asker.
"Anything I can help you with, Ms. Summers?" Wesley asked before she opened her mouth.
"I...I just wanted to say, ummm, hi." Buffy picked up her hand as if to give a small wave, but quickly folded it. A blush rose on her cheeks. Wow, she was lame.
Wesley straightened his file folders and slipped them inside his briefcase, maintaining his British stoicism no doubt. "I trust you won't have any problems being my student. I wouldn't want our past to hinder your education."
"Absolutely no hindrance here." Buffy gave him one her patented smiles full of Californian sunshine and the little bit of cheerleader pep she remembers.
*****
It became a hindrance when Buffy didn't know what to write about for her first paper. Had no fucking idea. So after hitting her head several times against her keyboard, she went to see Wesley.
"I'm glad to see that you can recognize when you need help, Ms. Summers," Wesley said. He was almost as condensing as when he first came to Sunnydale in his pressed suits that were a few sizes too big for him.
The problem was that when Wesley started to talk about different approaches to her paper, Buffy zoned out. Well, not exactly zoning out. She watched Wesley's little ticks: the way his tongue moved over his lips or his long fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair.
Buffy thought about what the new Wesley must've been like, and she almost chuckled at finally having a hot teacher.
"Is there something amusing you find about Julius Jordan's excavation of Uruk?" Wesley rolled up his sleeves.
"No." Buffy shook her head and felt warm.
*****
When midterms swung around, Buffy was acing every class, except Wesley's. (Of course, her other professors looked more like Mr. Rogers than Mr. Chiseled Jaw.) On top of that, Giles decided that her spring break was best spent training Slayers instead of exploring the South of France like her classmates.
She broke her pencil in half during Wesley's midterm test. The eraser already chewed to bits. Buffy tried to act surprised when Wesley asked her to stay after class.
"Ms. Summers, I'm worried about your performance," Wesley said. He held in his hand what Buffy recognized as a drop form. She'd been looking at them herself last Wednesday and telling herself that if she aced the final she'd pull a C. "I think you should consider dropping. You seem distracted."
"Yeah, I wonder why," Buffy muttered. When she realized that Wesley had heard her, her eyes grew big with shock.
Wesley cleared his throat. "Is your distraction something you'd like to talk with me about?"
Buffy shook her head and felt flushed. Great, she was blushing again. "Giles... Giles had me training Slayers all break." It was a lame excuse, but an excuse.
"Surely, Mr. Giles recognizes the importance of an education," Wesley said. He wasn't buying it. Wesley always could see through her lies. She'd give him that. "Perhaps you need a private lesson."
Buffy blinked at him. If she didn't know better, he was totally coming onto her. "I'm dropping your class," she fumbled.
"It's what I would suggest." The phone on Wesley's desk started to ring. "You can go, Buffy."
*****
Buffy didn't see Wesley for a week, and life was less confusing. She was totally kicking ass in her government class, English government even, taught by Professor Geriatric. But then she saw Wesley, by his motorcycle, all in leather.
Then she did something stupid, she climbed on with him. He gave her helmet before they sped off. She'd never been on the back of a motorcycle before, but she saw the appeal as the wind rushed against her face and she felt a thrill as they cut around buses and slower cars. Buffy thought about asking the Council for one.
Wesley lived in a small apartment about 20 minutes away. Buffy was almost sad when they parked and headed into his place. Until the door had barely closed and he pushed her back against it, kissing her.
Buffy groaned as Wesley's hands snuck under her shirt. They were cold and made her flinch. She thought that maybe all this was inevitable since she walked into his classroom.
They didn't make it to his bedroom or have time to pull off all their clothing. Buffy's underwear were around her ankles and her hands braced against a tall table. Wesley nipped at her neck and thrust inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to move.
Wesley didn't last long and came with heavy breath. The leg of the table squeaked as she climbed back to her feet.
"You owe me," Buffy said. She started to unbutton her shirt. "Which way's your bedroom?" There was something about the way that Wesley was looking at her that made her think that the tables had been turned. Something that felt that maybe, after all their fighting and awkwardness, they were always hurling toward this moment. "Orgasms, Wes. I want lots of them. My private lesson."