This one is just a bit of cute silliness.
Setting: Some point after the end of both shows.
Inspiration: I'm not exactly sure, but I know it had something to do with the marathon rewatch of Bones I've been doing on Netflix over the past month.
Perspective: Buffy's, sort of.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you just going to keep pouting?" asked Buffy, not taking her eyes off the TV screen. Angel's arm around her shoulders was more rigid than usual, and his silence was less the type of one immersed in the show and more the type of one in an irritable sulk.
"I'm not pouting." His tone was just barely too defensive to be convincing. "You're not even looking at me; how would you know?"
"Spousal telepathy," said Buffy smugly. "Which also means either you can tell me what's wrong or I can tell you—and just so you know, option two will be more embarrassing."
There was an indignant pause. Then: "You're ogling Booth again." The sulky pout was now completely apparent in his tone.
Buffy fought to keep her face straight. "I am, aren't I?" she said with a dreamy sigh, her gaze still glued to the screen, which was currently occupied by one very attractive fictional FBI agent. "It isn't the squint-y techno-babble that makes this show worth watching."
Angel did not respond, and Buffy finally decided to take some measure of pity on him, even though she was still very amused. "I know you're still not quite used to your reflection, but you can't honestly tell me you haven't noticed that—physically, at least—he's pretty much you ten years from now."
"Oh," he said, sounding uncertain. "I guess. It's just…"
"Hard to imagine the years actually affecting your appearance for a change?" she suggested. "Well, maybe for you, but I can see it. And trust me, Booth is you in ten years." At that point, the show cut to commercial and she turned at last to shoot Angel a sly look. "Still annoyed about the ogling now?"
"Not if that's how you'll be looking at me in ten years," he said, his body relaxing and a smirk stealing across his features.
"You can pretty much count on it," said Buffy, scooting closer to fit more snugly against his side and leaning up to press her lips to his cheek with a loud smacking noise. "Brennan can have Booth. I'd much rather have you."
Angel showed his appreciation with a very thorough and tender kiss.
"Mmm, but there's no way I'm waiting ten years before I buy you Booth's jeans," she said once they resurfaced.
"I don't wear jeans."
"Oh, you definitely won't be wearing those jeans for very long, so that shouldn't be a problem."