WHO: Buffy & Sam WHEN: 25 September WHERE: Buffy's house. SUMMARY: Anti-brooding game play, pizza, and booze. WARNINGS: None that I can think of.
Buffy didn't really know the proper procedure for when someone was going through a divorce, but she assumed it was like a really bad break-up, like the worst, on steroids, sort of monster of the week times ten, sort of thing, and she knew that when she'd broken up with Angel - as a for instance - she'd ran away to LA, and when Riley had left, well, also bad, and she was pretty certain that pizza might be an answer.
Granted she didn't know exactly what Sam liked on his pizza, but she figured cheese was safe, and so there was a cheese, and a meaty one, and one with peppers and black olives and mushrooms, although she had no idea if he would like that or not.
"I might have gone a little overboard," she told him ruefully as she glanced at the four boxes on the kitchen island. "But hey, it's pizza - it keeps and we can always eat it again later, or I mean, I can. For like the next four weeks if necessary."
She offered a smile. "Drink?"
--
Having the divorce finalized was a strange thing, because it should have been like the worst kind of break-up, but it was actually kind of anticlimactic. The actual break-up had taken place months ago when Kate had left him, and the worst part of it for Sam had been right at the beginning when he was still trying to understand why, when he’d still been hanging on to hope that they’d get back together. Now, on the other side of that, he understood and he knew it was over. It had been over for a while, even before she’d left really, but he hadn’t seen it.
“It’s hard to have too much pizza,” he agreed, grinning in spite of himself at the stack of boxes. He’d always been a health food kind of a guy, but there was something so comforting about the normality of having pizza (or nachos, or other standard group food) and drinks with friends, and even though it was something he’d had multiple times here now, he still hadn’t gotten over the novelty of it. “I think if we keep at it for a few hours we can make a pretty good dent, at least. Maybe get it down to only three weeks of leftovers.”
He lifted the bag in his hand. “I brought beer and whiskey to contribute. But those also keep, if you had something different in mind.”
--
Buffy grinned. "Three weeks is good. Totally manageable," she added with a quick smile as she headed to the cupboard for some plates. Those were pulled out easily and sat down near the boxes, as were a couple of cups.
"I feel like I need shot glasses for the whiskey," she added. "But we can you know, pretend shots," she shrugged. "Regardless, I don't have something different in mind, so I think it's a good place to start."
She glanced over. She didn't have a really big plan outside of pizza and she didn't know if Sam would want to watch something or just talk or figure out how to solve Tumbleweed's problems somehow. But she supposed there was no way to figure that out, except to ask, so she reached to open one of the boxes. "So we could grab stuff and I figure living room. Dining room feels way too formal for pizza. And I have movies, or board games, or we could just talk, or whatever you feel like?"
--
“I usually sip this stuff,” Sam said, “But we could do shots, or pretend shots. Though that makes me feel like we need some kind of a drinking game.”
He didn’t have a particular plan either and he hadn’t really expected a drinking game, but now it sounded way better than sitting around being sad. Which was what he’d done most of the morning, before and after making the decision to finally take off his wedding ring and put it in his box of memories. He wasn’t going to discount the possibility that the sad mood might come back with some liquor in his system, but right now he was ready to be distracted by something fun.
“Maybe shots and a board game? Unless you have a movie that goes well with shots.”
--
"Unless Xander left one of his things over here that I haven't noticed, I think a board game makes the most sense," Buffy laughed. Reaching for pizza to pile on her plate. It was probably way too much pizza, but she didn't particularly care. She might not eat all of it, and that'd be fine too. "We could do a drinking game. I mean, even if it's just pretend shots. Oooh," she raised her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure we have Sorry. We could play Sorry as a drinking game I think. Every time you have to go back… you take a drink?!"
--
“I like it,” Sam said, grinning. “I guess that means we’re saying ‘shot’ instead of ‘sorry’?” He took a few slices of pizza for himself, briefly battling strings of cheese that didn’t want to let go of the rest of the pie. “And possibly, for the sake of our livers, we should come up with some other part of the game where we drink water or take a bite of pizza.”
--
"Good catch," Buffy grinned at him. "I'll go see if I can find it and we can just set up on the coffee table and sit on the floor, unless you want to do the dining room table, but I think the coffee table would work. It feels like the proper place for drinking game sorry."
Not that she'd ever really done it, but it sounded like fun, and Sam was grinning so she figured it was worth it. She wasn't going to repeat the Beer Bad thing tonight. Although he had a point about water and pizza. "It's been a while since I've played Sorry - maybe when one of our pieces get in the safe zone we drink water?"
--
“Coffee table sounds good to me,” Sam said easily. He figured they would have fun whatever location they picked. “I’ll bring the pizza and the whiskey over there while you find the game.”
They settled in, and by the time they’d finished a round of the game he was pleasantly buzzed. His cheeks vaguely ached from smiling and laughing, and he had almost forgotten that this was a sad occasion. Almost, until that thought had gone through his head. He wasn’t doing particularly well at the game, but he also wasn’t hugely invested in winning.
“Pizza and water break, I think,” he said, “And then I want a chance to redeem myself. Best of three?” He took a slice of pizza at his own suggestion -- they were on the second box already, or maybe it was the third? He’d lost track -- and took a bite. “This was a really great idea. Thanks for inviting me over.”
--
"Mmm pizza," Buffy reached for one with a grin. She'd been trying to moderate the amount of drinking she'd been doing because she'd had one bad experience with beer and more or less learned her lesson, but she wasn't certain how well she'd really been doing because she could definitely feel the buzz.
"Best out of three is aloud, but I think you may end up Sorry!" she giggled -- it was a little ridiculous and tipsy.
"I'll fill up the water pitcher for us." Which she did, standing up carefully-ish, and then making her way to the kitchen for ice and water, and some lemon slices. When she returned she handed it over. "I should have gotten us water bottles, they'd be easier and last longer." And they wouldn't have to pour water semi-tipsy.
She slid back in, reaching to clear the board for game two and looked over at him. "I'm glad you came. And I mean, my pleasure. The house gets kinda quiet when it's not like… I mean, no Dawn, no mom, no Willow or Xander or Giles. I should really try to find roommates or something."
--
“Probably,” Sam agreed, laughing. Truthfully, he expected to lose again. But then, he really didn’t know if three games was actually a good idea for either of their livers, so maybe that was for the best. Though he supposed they could always call it a night and have a tiebreaker later.
He accepted the water pitcher and filled up their glasses, hers first, then his. He took a big drink from his glass, then another bite of pizza, and then more water to wash it down. “Roommates might be good,” he agreed. “I had a bunch of people in the bunker at one point. It was nice. Then for a little bit it was just me, which wasn’t so nice. But then Selina came back and Gabe showed up.”
He traced his fingertips absentmindedly over the water glass, his gaze briefly distant and thoughtful. “I have a bad habit of… withdrawing. Brooding, maybe. I’m trying not to do that as much anymore. I think it’s better if I reach out to people. Do something fun.”
Not that he could entirely avoid brooding, but it was a vicious cycle. Once he got into a good brood, it was harder to stop. Being here reminded him that it didn’t have to be that way, that he could still have fun even when he had reasons to be sad.
--
Buffy might get herself tipsy enough that she'd be really bad at it. That was entirely a possibility, and maybe not even the worst possibility. After all, mostly she wanted Sam to have a good night, knowing that the last little bit probably hadn't been so great.
"You know, lucky for you, I'm really good with broody people. Granted, most of the ones I've dealt with have been vampires, but I was pretty fond of him," she downed some water, and then reached for the pizza. "It's good you have people in the bunker though, right? I mean, it's not just you, which feels good. And hey, maybe we should just have some sort of weekly something that we do that is not brooding. Patrols. Or… like this!" She waved at the game board in front of her, accidentally sending the Blue Sorry Guys scattering.
"Ooops," she giggled. "I didn't mean to scare them all off." Pizza down, and she stuck her head under the table to find all the pieces, and when she brought them back up, and placed them down on the board with a flourish she gave Sam a smile. "I think sometimes we all need a good brood, but it doesn't have to be all the time."
--
“Oh,” Sam said slowly, as a long-forgotten memory came back to him, “Are you talking about Angel? I met him in Mt. Weather.”
He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. It was funny how time slipped away from him here; he was usually better at keeping track. Now there were so many different timelines and worlds and memories that it sometimes took a spark to bring things back to him.
He was distracted for a moment, remembering how they’d worked together to cure Dean when he’d become a demon. And then he came back out of it and smiled at her. “Yeah. It would be good to have something regular to do that isn’t brooding. Patrolling would work, but fun stuff like this is good too. I need to not forget to do fun stuff.”
He laughed and helped her pick up one of the pieces that had rolled over to his side of the table. “Maybe -- weekly patrols? Monthly game night?”
--
Buffy blinked. That had been the last thing she'd been expecting and it was enough to shock her somewhat sober for a moment. But, she nodded. "Yeah, Angel. I didn't know he'd ever been here. I mean, I guess not here if -" she waved a hand again. Mount Weather. She knew that from before, and she hadn't been there. It had been a long time before she'd come, and she'd definitely heard people talk about it - just not usually. "I think I sort of labor under the illusion that the Portal only likes me and no one else from home since…" She shrugged.
They'd been going to play another round of the game, she seemed to remember, but it didn't seem particularly important to set it up. Instead she looked over at Sam and she nodded. "Maybe, both. Why not both?" She echoed the meme girl. The 90s should have had meme gifs, really, but then the 90s should have had the Internet, they had, but she hadn't used it at all, it wasn't like now. "We could do one night a week a patrol, and then do a game night. We could even invite other people if you want to. Or we could just keep it us. Or we could sometimes do both." Because again, why not both.
She looked over at him. "And if you think about brooding, text me and I'll come up with something to keep you not brooding."
--
“Right,” Sam said. “Yeah. He was here. There. He was there.” He probably could have found a way to say that more subtly, diplomatically, smoothly, less of a bomb being dropped, if he hadn’t been buzzed. He tried to remember if other people from her world had been there; he felt like there had been but he hadn’t interacted with them in the same way. “I’d say you probably are the portal’s favorite. Based on the track record I’ve seen, there’s been way more of you than anyone else. I guess the same is true for me, although Jo has been around for a good long time too.”
He paused, trying to remember which of them had shown up first. His memory was fuzzy, but he thought maybe he’d shown up first in Mt. Weather, and Jo had shown up first here. He wasn’t really sure. “But that doesn’t mean other people from home can’t show up. They still might.”
He smiled at her, and picked up his slice of pizza, taking a bite. “Patrols and game night would be great. And that’s a really sweet offer, to be my… brooding buddy. I’ll probably take you up on that. But I’ll also try to work on it myself, ‘cause that’s not really your job.”
--
It hadn’t been expected, but she didn’t know why it wouldn’t have been. Just because there hadn’t been many people from home during her time here didn’t mean they hadn’t been before. Mostly people probably didn’t know to say that they had been.
She shifted reaching for some water for herself. It might be about time to stop with the beer before she went full prehistoric Buffy. “It’s funny how some of us stay around and some people go or come and go. I wish there seemed to be any rhyme or reason.” She sighed and then turned to give him a smile. “I’m glad we're both here though. Whatever the reason. And hey, don’t think I’m gonna let you brood too much,” she teased. “But we all need a safe brooding space sometimes.”