Chapter One

Buffy stalks through campus, annoyance radiating from her with every step. Mr. Pointy is clutched in her right hand and tucked against the sleeve of her jacket, where it’ll be mostly out of sight of any unsuspecting coeds she comes across. The last thing she needs is to be spotted slaying. This is her chance for a new chapter where she’s not just the weird girl who shows up when there’s trouble. Admittedly, it’s off to a rough start—what with her first friend being murdered by a group of vampires who wanted to steal his stuff and the fact that she’s about 94% sure her roommate is an actual demon—but she’s not ready to throw in the towel yet. She’s living away from home, meeting new people, learning new stuff, even taking the occasional night off thanks to Faith sharing patrol with her. She’s got this. She’s gonna be a whole new Buffy, maybe even—

The vampire she’s been following darts across the path ahead of her. Smiling grimly, Buffy picks up the pace. She’s spent the last week systematically hunting down the remaining members of Sunday’s little gang and taking them out. This is the last of them, and Buffy feels her heart beating faster in her chest as she closes in on her prey. Eddie was kind and he had his whole life ahead of him. He deserves to be avenged. Plus they touched her stuff. This vamp’s gotta die.

She’s jogging as she leaves the path, following the sound of footfall ahead of her. There’s enough space between them that the vamp might think she’s lost her, but that’s all part of the game. She’ll let the vamp head further and further away from campus center, then make her move when there’s less chance of being spotted. It’s almost too easy. Sunday apparently wasn’t choosing her groupies based on IQ.

Case in point: she hears noise now, just ahead on the right. Can the vamp have been stupid enough to double back and head right into her path?

Tightening her fingers around the stake, Buffy plunges into the bushes. She cuts through quickly, a triumphant grin overtaking her face. Her stake rises, ready to meet its target.

It falls just as quickly as she darts from the brush directly into a picnic area. A circle of chairs are set up, most of them occupied by women who turn to look at her.

“Uh,” Buffy says, shoving her stake behind her back, “there was a—a, umm, bee—a bat.” She nods decisively, managing to tuck the stake in her waistband. “Sorry.”

There’s a woman standing on the opposite side of the circle, and she smiles politely. “That’s okay,” she says. “Are you here for the meeting?”

Trying to casually pick free a leaf that’s caught in her hair, Buffy nods quickly. “Uh, yep.”

The woman gestures at an empty chair not too far from Buffy. “Awesome!” She says. “I’m TJ.”

Seeing no other option, Buffy heads for the open spot. “Buffy,” she says, offering her name.

“Buffy,” TJ repeats, smiling again. “Welcome.”

Fighting off embarrassment, Buffy slinks into the open seat and tries to be inconspicuous. A few of the other group members give her small waves and kind smiles, which she returns, before turning her head like she’s listening. TJ’s back to speaking now, but somewhere beyond the circle, the vamp is still nearby. Buffy can feel it in her gut, that certainty that something otherworldly is lurking in the shadows. She scans the tree line, looking for any hint of movement. Meanwhile, TJ’s words go in one ear and out the other. Buffy’s only vaguely aware of her talking about monthly meetings and a candlelight vigil to be held in October. Will the vamp try to attack now, in the middle of all these bystanders?

The tingling in her neck grows fainter as the meeting continues, to Buffy’s disappointment. There’s no way she can go after the vampire now, not without disrupting this meeting again. And she’s trying to keep a low profile on campus. She’ll have to resume the hunt when the group disperses. It seems on the way to doing so as Buffy tunes back into TJ’s speech.

“—be a safe space for everyone,” TJ is saying. “I know the group name sounds super concrete, but you don’t have to put a label on yourself. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Wherever you are in your process or your journey or whatever, we want you here.”

Buffy notices the woman to her right begin beaming at that, and she smiles, too. She has no idea what she missed so far, but this part sounds nice. Maybe she’s not the only one who’s having a little trouble adjusting.

“Same time, same place, next Tuesday,” TJ says, dismissing them. Buffy starts to get to her feet, but sees TJ flash her the one minute signal. So much for sneaking off.

“Freshman?” Someone asks. Buffy turns to the girl who was seated next to her. Blond curls form a halo around her head, tucked into a thin, glittery headband.

“Is it that obvious?” Buffy asks, smiling ruefully.

“No,” the girl says. “Just haven’t seen you around before, and we’re a pretty close knit group.” She holds out her hand for Buffy to take. “I’m Shannon.”

Buffy shakes her hand automatically. “Buffy.”

“I know,” Shannon says. Her jacket parts as they shake, giving Buffy a glimpse of the t-shirt she wears underneath. It’s the UC Sunnydale logo, only the sunshine that usually appears between the ‘C’ and ‘D’ is rainbow colored. LESBIAN ALLIANCE the shirt says beneath that.

Buffy’s eyes dart quickly around the other group members. She spots two more of the same shirt. Oh crap.

Shannon releases her hand. “So, Buffy,” she says conversationally, while waving to someone else over Buffy’s shoulder. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, uhh,” Buffy fumbles, cursing herself for not having come up with a cover story in the last three seconds, “I… haven’t—I—I mean I’m not, umm, sure I—”

“That’s okay!” TJ appears at her side, taller than Buffy by several inches. “You don’t have to be sure,” she says reassuringly. “We’re glad you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Buffy says automatically.

“What did you think of the meeting?” TJ asks.

“It was good!” Buffy says quickly. The wood of her stake digs into her back, and her palms are beginning to feel sweaty. “I liked what you said about, you know, safe spaces.”

TJ nods like Buffy’s comment makes sense. “Good,” she says. “I hope we’ll see you next week.” A warm hand clasps Buffy’s shoulder briefly, then she’s gone.

She must look like a deer in headlights, because Shannon’s eyes crinkle in amusement. She says, “Are you in Mariano’s Poli Sci class—the 1PM?”

Surprised, Buffy thinks about it for a second, then she nods. “Wednesday and Friday? Yeah.”

“Me too,” Shannon says. “I thought you looked familiar. A couple of us usually get lunch in the café before class, if you wanna join sometime.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to say no. She literally crashed this group’s meeting, and she’s definitely not the intended audience, but on the other hand… she hasn’t succeeded in meeting anyone still among the living so far. “Sure,” she finds herself saying.

XXXXX

“Well,” Faith says, standing just inside Giles’s front door, “this is new.”

She’d come by to tell him about a pair of demons she tangoed with on patrol the night before. One of them had met the business end of her stake and promptly exploded, covering her in demon goo; the other is in the wind. Instead of finding Giles here as she expected, it was Oz who opened the door. He’s now standing next to Xander, who is wearing a distinctly guilty look on his face. And then there’s Buffy.

Closing the door behind her, Faith leans her back against the wood and crosses her arms. “Why’s she tied up?”

Oz glances at Xander, who straightens his shoulders and says, “She’s possessed.”

“I am not possessed,” Buffy yells indignantly, struggling against the ropes currently binding her to a bench in the middle of Giles’s living room. “I told you, it’s Kathy, she—”

“By what?” Faith asks.

“Not sure,” Xander says. “Giles went to get supplies so we can do a spell that’ll reveal the demon.”

“I can't believe this,” Buffy says, obviously fuming. “After all that we've been through together, you guys won't believe me when I tell you that Kathy is bad.”

Xander casts a distraught look at her. “We want to, Buff, it's just—”

“Shh,” Oz says softly, “don't engage.”

Faith takes a moment to enjoy this. She’s almost always on the outside looking in when it comes to Buffy and her friends; it’s nice to see them at odds with each other just once. Then she pushes herself away from the door and strides across the room toward Buffy.

“Uh, Faith, what are you doing?” Xander sounds alarmed.

Faith squats down so she’s eye level with Buffy. “What’s going on?”

Xander starts to answer, but she holds up a silencing hand, waiting for Buffy to speak.

Buffy focuses her attention on Faith, making direct eye contact and leaning slightly forward. It’s a little bit unnerving, but Faith holds her ground. “Kathy,” Buffy begins firmly, “has parts that can grow after they're detached. She irons her jeans. She listens to Lite FM, Faith. Love songs. Nothing but love songs.”

Faith nods.

“She's evil,” Buffy stresses. “She has to be destroyed.”

Faith considers that for a moment, then she shrugs. “Good enough for me.”

“What!” Xander cries.

Buffy’s grin is triumphant (and more than a little terrifying) as Faith reaches around her to loosen the ropes.

“You can’t be serious,” Xander says, as he and Oz slowly back farther away.

Shaking the ties from her wrists, Buffy gets to her feet beside Faith. “Thank you,” she says primly.

“Welcome,” Faith says. “Give me a sec? I’ll go with you to deal with Kathy.”

Buffy nods, then she aims a final glare at her friends before she heads outside.

“This is not how I saw this going,” Oz states, not sounding overly perturbed.

Faith shrugs again.

Xander looks between Faith and the door incredulously. “You really don’t think she’s possessed?”

“Oh no, something’s definitely wrong with her,” Faith agrees easily, “but I’ve met that Kathy chick. If Buffy’s possessed, she had something to do with it.”

Oz frowns. “And if you’re wrong?”

“I’m going with her,” Faith says. “I won’t let anything happen.” She glances over her shoulder to where she can see Buffy waiting impatiently in the courtyard. “Besides, you had about 90 seconds before she broke free. This way you get to keep all your limbs attached.”

“Thoughtful,” Xander says.

“I better motor before she leaves without me.”

Approximately 35 minutes later, Faith is beginning to regret her decision. Not the ‘agreeing with Buffy that Kathy’s evil’ part—she’s been feeling pretty solid about that since around the time Buffy tore Kathy’s human façade off—but the coming along to face Kathy part. Buffy’s soul is fully back in her own body, which is of the good, but there’s also a big, swirling portal in the floor of her dorm room. Faith’s dangling half in, half out of it, with Buffy gripping one of her hands for dear life.

There’s a sucking sensation around her mid thigh, as the portal tries to close and take her with it. The opening is narrowing rapidly. Faith’s free hand is clenched around the foot of Buffy’s bed frame, and she tightens her grip.

“You have to let go!” Buffy shouts, still clutching her hand. “Grab me instead! I’ll pull you back.”

Faith gives her a look that she hopes conveys her exact thoughts. You gotta be fucking kidding me.

“Do it!” Buffy orders. She’s on her ass on the floor outside of the portal, sneakers braced against the ground. Both arms extend between her knees, and she looks like she’s about to start a set on a demonic rowing machine.

Faith does a quick count to three in her head, then she releases the bed frame, instantly feeling herself slip farther into the portal. She grasps wildly, finally managing to reach up to where Buffy’s holding out her opposite hand.

As soon as Faith grasps her wrist, Buffy yanks with all her might, pushing up with her feet as she does. There’s a disturbing sound not unlike a kitchen sink draining as Faith sails free of the portal’s grip and is dragged squarely on top of Buffy.

Behind her, the portal closes with a slurp.

They lie there in a heap, both panting, hands still clutched together, and Buffy asks, “You okay?”

Faith responds in a grunt, waiting for the pins and needles feeling in both legs to subside.

At that moment, the door to the bedroom crashes open. Xander and Oz push inside, stopping short when they see the collapsed slayers.

Buffy eyes them balefully from underneath Faith.

“Guessing you guys already know Kathy’s a demon?” Xander asks weakly.

“Uh huh,” Faith says, managing to mostly roll herself off and flop onto her back. One rubbery leg still sprawls across Buffy’s.

“Told you,” Buffy says, apparently not too tired to lord this over them.

Xander has the grace to look chagrined. “We’ll go call Giles.”

Faith almost suggests they can use the phone in this room, except that she’s pretty sure Kathy shattered the handset against Buffy’s face mid fight. She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, closing her eyes while the nerves in her legs continue to make their protests known. A soft click lets her know they’re alone in the room again.

“Thanks,” Buffy says from beside her, “for believing me.”

Faith cracks one eye open to find Buffy still lying next to her, looking up at the ceiling.

“Nobody else did,” Buffy adds.

“Civilians,” Faith says dryly.

Buffy snorts and glances over at her. “I owe you one.” Flexing her leg experimentally, she finds Faith’s is still dead weight. “Maybe two.”

Faith nods. That seems fair, considering the circumstances. “Make it up to me on patrol tonight,” she suggests, before she can stop herself. “I’m tracking a demon, heavy on the slime. Ruined my favorite shirt on the last one.”

She half expects Buffy to beg off—they do their own patrols as often as not—but Buffy just grins and says, “I’ll bring a poncho.”

XXXXX

Her tray is heavily loaded as Buffy makes her way past the cashier. It’s taco day in the café, her favorite, and she has two more classes to go after lunch. She needs substance. Yummy, yummy, substance wrapped in hard shells. Wednesdays are one of the days when she and Willow don’t overlap at lunch, so she’s planning to find a quiet spot to read her notes before she goes to poli sci. First quiz of the year. Yay.

“Buffy!”

Buffy looks up and sees a familiar girl with blond curls waving her over to a table with a few other people. She goes, tray carefully balanced in both hands. “Shannon,” she says, “hey.”

“Sit with us!” Shannon says, more command than invite.

Buffy sets her tray down carefully and takes the proffered spot at the table.

“This is Tara,” Shannon says, pointing to the woman beside her. Tara ducks her head, barely meeting Buffy’s eyes, but she does smile.

“And everybody,” Shannon says, vaguely waving at the other people at their table. “Everybody, meet Buffy!”

There’s a chorus of hellos, and Buffy gives the table an awkward wave before she turns back to Shannon. “How’ve you been?” She asks.

“Terrible,” Shannon says immediately and dramatically.

Beside her, Tara snorts softly.

“It’s day 423 of being tragically single. I am totally flunking econ, and my roommate abandoned me to get a single this year so I got randomly paired up. This girl is not cool.” She takes a quick sip of her drink then adds, “It’s like, you play softball and you’re not gay? Come on.”

Buffy’s not sure what to tackle first from that list. She settles on, “I’m sorry?”

Shannon pats her arm. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” Tara says in a long suffering tone. She glances at Buffy, and her face goes a little pink. “I told you I wa—was applying to be an RA this year.”

“Which you wouldn’t have done if you loved me at all,” Shannon says with a sniff. She grins right after and slings an arm around Tara’s shoulders. Looking at Buffy again, she says, “Tara’s in LA too; she’s usually at the meetings.”

LA? Buffy thinks, before it clicks. Right. The group she’s sort of accidentally joined. She offers Tara a closed mouth smile, having just taken a large bite from one of her tacos.

“Buffy’s new,” Shannon tells Tara, probably unnecessarily, “and TJ, in her infinite wisdom, seems to think asking newbies hundreds of intrusive questions scares them off for some reason, so we’ll have to bide our time before we ask about all her deep dark secrets.”

Buffy laughs, but before she can respond, Tara’s eyes widen and she gives a small wave to someone walking by. Glancing over her shoulder, Buffy sees a girl with reddish brown hair in a pixie cut.

Shannon leans toward her conspiratorially. “That’s Sadie, she was in our suite freshman year, and Tara’s been pining for her basically that long.”

“She’s straight,” Tara says, looking a little embarrassed.

“No, she’s not,” Shannon says with complete confidence. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Buffy’s face must show her surprise, because Shannon raises one eyebrow. “What?”

“You think someone could really just not know?”

“Sure,” Shannon says breezily, “especially women.”

The tiniest little seed of something starts in Buffy’s brain, not quite alarm, but definitely something.

“She probably tells herself that everyone notices other women the way she does,” Shannon continues. “She’s just jealous of her friend’s boyfriend because they’re spending less time together. Everyone loves holding hands and cuddling with their friends.”

The seed cracks slightly, tentative roots emerging and looking for purchase. Buffy thinks of her best friend in middle school. She’d thought Emma was the prettiest, the smartest, the best person in the world. They’d begged their parents to allow sleepovers every weekend, the two of them smushed together in a single bed, talking and sharing secrets. She was inconsolable when Emma made a new best friend.

“You okay, Buffy?” Tara asks softly.

“Yeah,” Buffy says quickly, putting thoughts of the past out of her mind. “Sorry, I was just thinking about this quiz. I’m so not ready.”

“Me either,” Shannon says. “You wanna go over our notes? We still have some time.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, happy to move to a different topic. She polishes off the taco she’s been working on, then unzips her bag. Pulling her notebook free, she flips to the section on poli sci. “Okay,” she says, dread already setting in, “first up, normative political theory.”

“What is it?” Shannon asks, in a pretty accurate impression of their professor. “And why do we care?”

“We don’t,” Buffy says.

“We don’t,” Shannon agrees, “and we are definitely going to fail this quiz.”

“Give me the notebook,” Tara says, holding her hand out expectantly. “I’ll help.”

XXXXX

Tuesday night finds Buffy back in the same picnic area, sharing a large blanket with Tara, Shannon, and a tall girl introduced to her as Alex. They eat hot buttered popcorn, eyes fixed on the large white screen erected in front of them. Buffy wasn’t expecting it to be a movie night, but then again, she missed most of what TJ said the week before, so that’s probably why. In spite of Shannon warning her at the outset to keep her expectations low (“Gay movies are, like, tragically bad, but you’re going to love it anyway.”), Buffy finds herself quite invested in the story. The two leads are from opposite sides of the tracks, one a social outcast, the other popular, but since talking for the first time, they’ve just clicked. Buffy’s never actually seen a film like this, focused on two girls falling in love. When the movie started, she expected to feel like the fraud she knows herself to be, the straight girl who somehow infiltrated this group watching some cultural other that doesn’t belong to her. Instead, it feels… normal.

Not that she previously thought it wasn’t normal. There were gay kids at Hemery. Less in Sunnydale, but still there was Larry. And Faith is—well—she doesn’t know what Faith is, but she’s something. So other people being gay or kinda gay, that’s normal, but watching this movie… Evie is just a girl with a boyfriend, going about her life. Then she meets Randy and falls in love with her. It can just happen like that, and it doesn’t seem strange to imagine. It seems possible.

On screen, Evie and Randy are in bed. The screen goes into soft focus with dim lighting as it pans up their tangled bodies. Buffy’s face feels warmer and warmer the longer the scene goes on. She takes a surreptitious glance around the group. Most everyone else is watching the movie, a few people chatting quietly amongst themselves. No one else seems to be affected by the scene, one way or another. Her eyes drift back to the screen, where hands are sliding across smooth skin and mouths are meeting. Randy’s leg slides between Evie’s, and Buffy’s thoughts drift back to this morning. 

She’d woken up late, after Willow had gone to class, with the remnants of a dream sliding away from her conscious mind. Some details remained: the feeling of long hair tickling her bare skin, of being warm and excited, brown eyes with long black lashes burning into hers, and the sound of a quiet moan, the voice soft and beautiful to her ears. Before the dream could fade completely, Buffy slid one hand into her pajamas shorts.

An elbow nudges her lightly, pulling her attention back to the present.

Shannon looks at her expectantly. “Sno cap?” She offers, holding out a box of candy.

Buffy accepts the box, shaking a few sno caps into her hand, then passes it off to Alex. At least it gives her something else to focus on. She makes it through the remainder of the movie, her face finally cooling down as the girls go on the run from Evie’s mother and everyone else who wants to find them. By the time the projector screen is being rolled up and Shannon and Alex are folding up the blanket, Buffy’s feeling somewhat steadier, if now slightly confused. She turns down their offer to walk back to the dorms together, pretending she needs to go the opposite way. In reality, she needs to meet Faith for patrol.

As she walks across campus, Buffy ponders, her mind turning the evidence around and around the way it does when she’s trying to solve some slaying-related mystery. Unfortunately, her slayer instincts don’t seem prepared to contribute much to this situation. There’s only her regular Buffy instincts at work, and those aren’t always the most reliable. What does that dream mean? Was there really some ulterior motive in all those sleepovers with Emma? Was that a crush? Has she had other crushes? Maybe on Courtney, the cheer captain at Hemery whose tumbling Buffy envied for her entire first year there? Or maybe she just liked her tumbling. How is she supposed to know? It’s not like there’s anyone she can ask—

Actually…

It occurs to Buffy that there is someone she can ask. The prospect is a little daunting. She and Faith aren’t exactly what she’d call ‘close.’ These days they mostly meet up for patrols and things stay pretty focused on slaying. That isn’t something Buffy’s done intentionally. It’s just that with Xander away for most of the summer, she and Willow spent a lot of one on one time together. Faith and Willow have never been the best of friends, and it just seemed to make sense to keep things separated.

Still, she doesn’t think Faith will laugh at her or be cruel about it. She might be opening herself up to a lot of innuendos and eyebrow raising, but Buffy can handle that. She resolves to bring it up tonight.

Buffy means to, but every time she almost gets there, something happens: a vampire, a group of teenagers having a séance in the cemetery like they don’t live in the town of Sunnydale. By the time they’ve managed all the crises, Faith is beginning to look antsy.

“Should we call it a night?” She asks.

Cursing her bad luck, Buffy nods. The one night when she wants to stay out patrolling late and Faith’s ready to throw in the towel?

Faith slides her stake back into the holster on her thigh. “Wanna meet up tomorrow? Or you wanna do your own thing?”

“I’ll meet you,” Buffy says.

Faith nods.

She’s turning to go, so Buffy forces herself to say, “Wait.”

Turning back around, Faith gives her an expectant look.

“Umm,” Buffy says, so nervous she’s practically vibrating, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Faith says, looking a little guarded now. She takes a few steps toward Buffy. “What’s up?”

Buffy hesitates. She and Faith aren’t big on sharing, and she’s not sure how Faith will react to her probing into her personal life. She takes an extra few seconds to hop up onto a tombstone before speaking. “I was wondering, umm, well, how did you know you liked girls?”

Faith’s eyebrows move toward her hairline.

“I mean, I know you like guys,” Buffy hastens to add, “but you like girls too, right?” Her voice squeaks on the last word. Has she gotten this wrong? But she’s definitely seen Faith slinking out the backdoor of the Bronze with her arm around a woman at least twice.

Faith’s expression is suspicious now. “Yeah,” she says.

Buffy waits for her to say more, watching as Faith’s face shifts into a cautious kind of confusion. Finally, Faith adds, “I guess it wasn’t something I really thought about. I just knew. When I started watching The X-Files, I was into Mulder and Scully, you know?”

Buffy nods, although she doesn’t know.

“So, I knew, but then I got older and”—Faith pauses like she’s considering her phrasing—“you know, tried things out. Then I really knew.” She looks at Buffy a little more closely. “Something you wanna share with the class, B?”

Buffy shakes her head quickly. “Just curious,” she says, unwilling to disclose more right now.

Mercifully, Faith lets that go and doesn’t call her on this obvious line of bullshit.

“Thanks,” Buffy adds.

“Right,” Faith says, then tilts her head in the direction of the cemetery exit. “I’m gonna go, unless you’ve got any other curiosities to satisfy.”

She doesn’t say in a particularly lascivious way, but Buffy feels her face warming anyway. She shakes her head. “Goodnight.”

XXXXX

Almost another week passes (which Buffy spends thinking, planning, scrapping her plans as stupid, working up her courage, plummeting into anxiety, and then working up the courage again) before she mentions the subject again. This time, she doesn’t wait for the end of patrol. She spots Faith walking to meet her from the entrance to Restfield Cemetery and squares her shoulders. She is an adult and she’s perfectly capable of making an adult proposition. This will be fine.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Buffy says, in lieu of greeting.

Faith’s just taken a hearty bite of the Twizzler in her hand. She looks taken aback. “What I said when?” She asks, after swallowing.

“Last week,” Buffy says, “about how you knew you liked girls.” She corrects herself firmly, “Women.”

Faith’s lips twitch slightly, and one of her dimples reveals itself. “Okay,” she says neutrally, taking another bite of candy.

“I was asking because I’ve been wondering if I might also be interested in gi—women.”

“I figured.” Faith looks very calm, finishing off her Twizzler as she waits for wherever this is going.

“You said once you tried it, that’s when you knew for sure,” Buffy reminds her.

“Uh huh.”

“So I think I should do that too.”

Faith starts to reply, but Buffy’s too far into her planned speech now to interrupt herself, so she continues, “So would you?”

There. She’s done it. The suggestion is out there, and probably Faith will say yes or at least she’ll be nice if she does say no, so there’s no reason to—

“Would I what?” Faith asks, sounding confused.

Oh. She didn’t actually say the thing. Flustered now, Buffy blurts out, “Would you be the person I try this with?”

The reply isn’t immediate. It takes Buffy a moment to work up the courage to look at Faith. She looks… concerned maybe. Faith says, “Why me?”

“Well,” Buffy starts, feeling on safer ground because she’s gone over all the reasons why it should be Faith with herself already, “we’re friends.” Sort of, anyway. “I trust you.” Mostly.  “And we’re both slayers, so I know I can’t hurt you or anything.”

“Is that a big concern?” Faith asks, not unkindly.

Buffy says, “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not like I’m super experienced with regular people.” And by not super experienced, she means zero experience.

Faith nods. Buffy feels like she’s crawling out of her skin waiting for Faith to say something, but she forces herself to give it a minute. Faith should be able to consider all the options. Buffy shouldn’t rush her.

Finally Faith says, “So you’re not just talking about kissing or making out or whatever. You want, like, the whole enchilada.”

She hadn’t considered that maybe kissing would be enough. Maybe she’s been a little gung ho here. Then again, how different can kissing Faith really be from kissing a guy (or a vampire in a guy shaped package)? It’s more the ‘under clothes, different parts’ stuff that’s likely to shed some light on the situation, isn’t it? “Umm,” Buffy says, trying to sound more confident than she is, “yeah.”

Faith’s silent for another excruciating minute, then she says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I’m down.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, surprised. This is good. This is great even. She’s thrilled (and just a smidge terrified, but this is fine). “I’m… that’s… yay?”

“Yay,” Faith deadpans back, but her eyes are sparkling with amusement.

“When should we, umm? Should we make a plan or…?”

“B,” Faith says fondly, “duck.”

The stake sails over Buffy’s head, sinking into the chest of a vampire who’s been stealthily approaching her from behind.

Buffy winces. Apparently her head is really not in the game.

“Let’s try not to die on patrol,” Faith suggests. “Then we’ll talk about it.”

Buffy nods. That sounds like a good plan. A really good plan. And soon they’ll be making another plan, a more—

“B?” Faith points to the ground at her feet where a hand has just clawed its way through the dirt of the fresh grave.

“Right,” Buffy says. “On it.”

Chapter Two

It’s been three days. Three nights of patrolling, and Faith hasn’t said anything else about what Buffy asked her. Buffy could bring it up of course, and she’s wanted to, but her courage keeps flagging every time she tries. Maybe Faith said yes, but now she’s changed her mind, she thinks, as she absently places items on her cafeteria tray. She’s so deep in thought that it takes her a moment to realize someone’s talking to her.

“Huh?” She asks, turning to find a dark haired, blue eyed guy behind her.

He smiles. “I said, that’s all you’re getting? Total rookie move.”

Looking down at her tray, she sees that she’s ended up with one yogurt, a chocolate chip cookie, and a muffin, apparently having chosen things at random as she went down the line.

“You gotta game the system,” the guy says. “Work it right and you can get three meals worth, which equals fewer punch cards used annually.”

Buffy finally sees what he’s getting at. “And more cash from your parents which you get to keep for yourself?”

He grins. “Right! The goal is to polish off as much as humanly possible in one sitting. Enough to get you through the rest of the day if necessary, while chipmunking items for future consumption.”

“Sage advice,” Buffy says.

Shifting his tray, the guy holds out his hand. “Parker Abrams. I'm at Kresge Hall.”

“Buffy Summers, Stevenson.” Buffy shakes his hand.

They’ve reached the registers, and Parker peels left to an open line. “I'll see you around, Buffy Summers of Stevenson.”

She smiles. “See you around.”

Buffy manages to snag a banana and a protein bar before she turns over her meal card, so at least she won’t be starving as she makes her way through Professor Walsh’s class this afternoon. A hungry slayer is no one’s friend. She knows that first hand. Faith gets so cranky when she’s hungry.

Why hasn’t Faith said anything?

Spotting Willow waving to her, Buffy heads over to join her and Oz. To her surprise, she sees Xander with them.

“Hey,” he says cheerfully, “say hi to non-college guy.”

Buffy smiles. “Not that I mind, but don't non-college guys usually populate the non-campus?”

“Usually,” Xander agrees. “I just thought I'd come around and check on my girls.” Glancing at Oz, he adds, “And my dude.” He snags some of Willow’s fries.

Willow calmly smacks his hand while turning her attention to Buffy. “Spill!” She says, casting a meaningful look at the guy Buffy was speaking to in line. “What was that all about, with the cutie patootie?”

“I don't know,” Buffy says. “Just small talk, I guess.”

“It looked like more than that to me,” Willow teases. “He got all googly-eyed.”

Xander surveys Oz’s tray now, smiling gratefully when a chicken nugget gets nudged in his general direction. “That's because he got hit by the Buffinator. Now he's powerless.”

Buffy glances at the guy in question. She hardly even remembers what they just talked about. “You think?”

“No question,” Oz says. “He'll be back.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says doubtfully. “Sometimes you put yourself out there, and it seems like the other person is interested, but then it just kind of… fizzles. You know?” It doesn’t get more ‘putting yourself out there’ than asking someone to sleep with you, so why is Faith leaving her hanging like this? Maybe she’s nervous?

“So don’t let it!” Willow says. “I’ve seen him around. You’ll bump into him again and make with the cute conversation.”

No way, Faith wouldn’t be nervous. This has to be about Buffy.

“Do that thing—the half smile thing you do,” Willow continues. “He’ll be eating right out of your hand.”

Realizing that her friends are waiting for her to say something, Buffy peels back the lid on her yogurt and shoots Willow a smile. “You’re right,” she says. “I’ll do that.” Cute conversation. Half smile thing. Could that work on Faith?

XXXXX

In spite of her best intentions, Buffy completely chickens out on patrol. She makes no cute conversation. She doesn’t do the smile thing. What she does manage to do is narrowly avoid being impaled by a demon with skewers that pop out of its arms. Her top is less lucky, and the skewer passes through the fabric swinging away from her stomach, puncturing it and then tearing a wide hole when Faith grabs the demon from behind and tosses it away.

“Guess I’m headed home to change before Oz’s show,” Buffy says, once the demon’s been summarily slayed. She frowns at the tattered remains of what was once a really cute blouse.

Faith shrugs off her jacket and holds it out. “Here.” Seeing the confusion on Buffy’s face, she says, “Security at your building’s going to have some questions if you come in looking like that. Faith gestures to her torn shirt. “Plus you’ve got a little—” She reaches over, rubbing her thumb across Buffy’s cheekbone. When she holds up her hand, it’s streaked with bright blue goo. 

“Thanks,” Buffy says with a sigh. She takes the jacket and slips it on. Buttoning it over her torn shirt, she catches a whiff of its scent. It smells like Faith, and for some reason that makes her face feel a little hot. She hopes her blushing won’t be noticable in the dark.

“Give it back tomorrow?” Faith suggests.

Impulsively, Buffy asks, “You wanna come with me?”

“To the Bronze?” Faith asks, seeming a little surprised.

Buffy nods. “Yeah. Could be fun?”

“Uh,” Faith says, “sure.”

Buffy tilts her head in the direction they need to go, and the two of them fall into step together. She spends most of the walk to her dorm trying to come up with a good way to ask Faith if she’s still up for what they discussed, but failing.

(“Hey Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you—uhh—did you see that racoon? It was huge.”)

When they get to her room, Buffy peels Faith’s jacket off and tosses it on her bed. On autopilot, she slides her Lycra pants down her hips. She aims them in the general direction of her laundry bag before pulling jeans from her dresser. She senses eyes on her and looks up as she shakes the jeans out of folded formation. Faith’s sitting on Willow's bed, leaning back on one arm. Her legs are outstretched in front of her, crossed casually at the ankle, and she is definitely watching Buffy change. Buffy flushes, hurriedly stepping into her pants and pulling them up. As she zips them, she turns away, going into her closet for a clean top. When she comes back out, blouse in hand, Faith’s lips are curled in amusement.

Buffy hesitates, then turns her back before taking her shirt off. “Enjoying the show?” She asks.

Behind her, Faith laughs softly. She says, “You know, sleeping with someone often involves being naked.”

“Well, we’re not doing that right now.” Buffy yanks her new shirt over her head.

“Mhmm,” Faith hums agreeably. “Just wondering how you’re gonna handle doing that”—she mimics Buffy’s emphasis—“if you’re embarrassed for me to see you in a bra.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Buffy says, even though she obviously is.

“Okay.”

“I’m not,” Buffy insists. “You just surprised me.” She glances over her shoulder at Faith. “I kinda thought you changed your mind about that.”

Faith sits up at that. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, turning back around. She retrieves her brush from the dresser top and starts running it through hair, just for something to occupy her hands. “You said we’d talk about it, but it’s been a couple days.” Three exactly, but who’s counting?

“I didn’t know we were on a deadline.”

“We’re not,” Buffy says, setting the brush down. She picks up her lip gloss, trying to discreetly look at Faith in the mirror.

Faith’s eyes meet hers through the reflection.

Busted.

“I figured I’d give you a few days, make sure you didn’t wanna back out,” Faith says.

“Why would I want to back out?” Buffy asks, struggling not to look away.

“I don’t know,” Faith says. “I just don’t want you to have regrets or whatever.” She drops her eyes, looking away from Buffy’s reflection.

That soothes a little of Buffy’s nervousness. She finishes applying the gloss, then turns around to face Faith. “Thanks,” she says.

Faith nods, appearing extremely interested in the posters hanging over Willow’s bed.

“I don’t want to back out,” Buffy says. She immediately congratulates herself on how calm and adult she sounds talking about this.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Faith’s eyes make their way back to her, and the mischievous look on her face gives Buffy a second’s warning before she asks, “So, should we skip this thing and do it now, or…?”

Buffy takes in Faith’s face, the quirk of her eyebrow, her full lips curved into a smirk. She knows Faith’s joking, but she’s almost tempted to say yes.

“Since you seem to be in a hurry and all,” Faith adds.

“I promised I’d be there tonight,” Buffy says.

“Too bad.” Faith stretches like a cat, her t-shirt tightening across her chest and pulling slightly above her waist.

When Buffy’s eyes land on the skin of Faith’s stomach, she automatically looks away. She catches herself after a second. She can look, can’t she? She’s going to be doing more than looking soon. Determinedly, she lets her eyes return to Faith, who finishes her stretch and reclines on her elbow again. Buffy eyes the curve of her shoulder, the slight gap where her pants meet her hip bone, the snug fit of black leather around her strong thighs. What might it feel like to slide her hands up Faith’s thighs, all soft leather and solid muscle under her grip? The thought makes Buffy’s chest feel a little tight, nervous in a good way, the kind of anticipation that makes you tingly. “How about tomorrow?” She asks, bringing her eyes back to Faith’s.

She succeeds in surprising Faith with that, but Faith recovers quickly. “I’m off work at 6.”

“Okay,” Buffy says. Her heart is pounding.

“Guessing you wanna do this at my place?”

“That would be better.”

“8 o’clock then?”

A half smile makes its way to Buffy’s face. “It’s a plan.”

XXXXX

Buffy’s on her fourth outfit change, each one somehow worse than the last, when Willow comes in, bag loaded down with books and a smile on her face.

“Hey!” She greets, setting her stuff down. She takes in the chaos of clothing all over Buffy’s bed and raises an eyebrow. “Laundry day?”

“No,” Buffy says, “just trying to find something to wear.”

“Where to?” Willow asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. She leans down, unlacing her sneakers and pushing them off.

Buffy glances at herself in the mirror. She’s wearing a maxi skirt and a tank top that definitely don’t match; her hair looks like a small creature might be nesting in it; and in seven hours, she’s going to be having casual sex for the first time. With a woman. A naked woman. A naked Faith. She doesn’t think Willow will have any problem with that—she’s the kindest person Buffy knows—but right now, the idea of telling her all of this is totally overwhelming. Buffy only has enough space in her head to freak out about one thing at a time. And the freak out center of her brain is 100% dedicated to the events planned for later this evening.

“Are you going to that party at Wolf House?” Willow prompts, looking puzzled by Buffy’s lack of response.

This is the first Buffy’s hearing of said party. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m gonna meet Faith for patrol first, then I’ll swing by.” It doesn’t feel good lying to Willow. Maybe she and Faith can go to the party, so it won’t be a total lie.

“And is there a boy going to this party?” Willow asks.

“Huh?”

“Cause you’re all panicky about your outfit,” Willow says, gesturing at the piled clothing on Buffy’s bed.

“Oh,” Buffy says. Right. “Well, it’s not a boy, but a few guys in my lit class are going. I just wanna look nice.”

Getting back up, Willow moves to the mountain of clothes on Buffy’s bed and considers. “So it’s not a boy, but maybe you’ll meet a boy,” she says thoughtfully, picking up a blouse and then setting it aside. “These pants”—she points to one of Buffy’s favorite pairs of pants —“and”—she disappears into the closet and comes out with a thin, dark green sweater—“this? It’s supposed to cool down tonight.”

That could work. Buffy accepts the shirt from Willow and quickly changes into it. Looking at herself in the mirror, she turns slightly. Butt looks good. The sweater is clingy and soft, and it brings out her eyes. She looks pretty but not like she’s trying too hard.

“Good?” Willow asks.

“Good,” Buffy confirms, feeling relieved. “Thanks, Will.”

“What are best friends for?” Willow asks, going back to her own bed. She sits down cross legged, pulling books from her bag.

That makes the guilt a little worse. “I’m going to jump in the shower,” Buffy says, eager to put some space between them before Willow says something else sweet that makes her feel terrible.

Willow says, “I’ll probably be gone when you get back. I’ve got study group.”

Buffy sets the sweater on her bed carefully. “Okay,” she says, walking to her closet for her robe and towel. “Hey, Will?” She pauses with her shower stuff in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best.”

Willow gives her a confused smile. “Thanks?”

Buffy nods and heads for the bathroom.

By the time she gets back to her empty room, blow dries her hair, and puts most of her clothing back in the dresser, there’s still more than five hours until she’s due at Faith’s. Her outfit for tonight is settled. Her hair looks great. So why is she still feeling panicky?

She debates for a minute, then finally picks up the phone. She couldn’t tell Willow what was going on, but maybe there’s someone else who can help.

XXXXX

The sun is high overhead, and Buffy’s bare feet are nestled in the grass. The quad is packed, with everyone eager to enjoy the late summer warmth. Beside her, Shannon is wearing a giant sun hat and long sleeves, her legs tucked under a thin blanket. Huge sunglasses dwarf her face.

“So are you, like, allergic to the sun, or…?” Buffy asks, as she soaks in enough rays for both of them.

The corner of the blanket whips her in the face. “Did you just drag me out here to mock me? I left the air conditioning for you.”

“I know,” Buffy says, picking at the blanket nervously. She had a specific goal in mind when she asked Shannon to meet her, but now that they’re here, she can’t quite think how to begin the conversation.

Shannon stills Buffy’s motions with her hand. “What’s up?” She asks, before tucking her hand back in the cover of her sleeve.

Buffy draws her legs back onto the blanket, turning so she’s facing Shannon. They don’t know each other that well yet, but she’d like to think she’s a good judge of character, and Buffy’s gotten nothing but good vibes from Shannon. “There’s this girl,” she begins.

Immediately, Shannon sits up straighter and turns to face her. The sunglasses come off, and big blue eyes bore into Buffy’s. “Tell me everything,” she says.

“There’s not that much to tell,” Buffy says, backtracking a little. “She’s, umm, we’re friends.”

“But you want to be more.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, then hesitates. “Well, no. Not exactly.”

Shannon frowns. “I’m confused.”

“Me too,” Buffy says, flopping onto her back on the blanket with a sigh.

Shannon nudges her in the thigh with a sandaled foot. “Okay, Ms. Dramatic, why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Unbidden, Giles’s voice begins in her head. Into every generation, a slayer is born… Maybe she won’t start quite that far back. “Uh,” Buffy tries again, “there’s this girl I know from high school.” There you go, Buffy, not a total lie. “And we’re supposed to hang out tonight. I think we’re going to—well, I know we’re going to—umm—”

Shannon waits for the end of that sentence, but when it doesn’t come, she prods, “Hook up?”

Buffy nods.

“Okay,” Shannon says, “and this girl, she’s cute?”

“Cute” makes it sound like she wears fluffy sweaters and pink lip gloss. Faith isn’t the cute type. She’s beautiful and her smile could light up a room, but she knows how best to stab your enemy to get him talking before he loses too much blood, and Buffy’s seen her plunge her fist into a demon’s chest and tear its heart out without breaking a sweat. Faith’s cute like belladonna is cute. There’s no way to explain this to Shannon, so she just nods.

“And you’re cute,” Shannon says decisively, “so she obviously likes you.”

“It’s not like that,” Buffy says quickly. “She doesn’t—we’re just friends.”

“So this is what, friends with benefits?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says.

“That’s what you want, too?” When Buffy nods again, Shannon asks, “So what’s the problem then?”

Right. The problem. The reason why they’re here. Deciding it’s best to just get it out there, Buffy says, “I haven’t actually… you know.”

Shannon doesn’t look surprised or horrified by this news. She asks, “Ever?”

“Just once,” Buffy admits, “and it was… he was… not the same situation.”

Shannon seems to get it now. She thinks for a minute and then asks, “You like ice skating, right?”

Confused by the abrupt change in topic, Buffy says, “Huh?”

“Ice skating,” Shannon repeats. “That’s your thing?”

“I guess.” Buffy squints at her, trying to determine where this is going.

“And do you like going skating with other people?”

“Sure.”

“So if you take a friend skating with you, do they have to be like, an Olympic level skater, or do you have fun just skating together?”

Buffy rolls her eyes, getting it now.

“Wait, wait,” Shannon protests, “I’m not done. I’ve gotta wring every drop out of this metaphor.”

“I don’t know what else—”

“So couples skating, like in competition?”

Buffy sighs. “Yeah?”

“When two people are skating together, they’re usually working as a team, right? They’re not competing against each other.” She doesn’t give Buffy time to respond before she plows into her conclusion. “Sex is like figure skating with less blades.” She makes a thoughtful face then adds, “Usually anyway. It’s a team effort. It’s fun because you’re doing it together. You’re not trying to outscore each other.”

“Right,” Buffy says, hoping this is the end.

“So just like… catch her when she flips in the air or whatever. And even if you don’t stick a landing or you fall on your ass, that’s okay. Just have fun.” Shannon pats her shoulder lightly, settling onto her stomach next to Buffy.

“But in this case, she’s competing at Nationals and I just got my first pair of skates,” Buffy points out, more than a little embarrassed.

“Well,” Shannon drawls, “lots of athletes go on to have lucrative coaching careers.” She looks especially pleased with herself.

Groaning, Buffy shoves her lightly.

Laughing, Shannon shoves her back. “Look,” she says, more seriously, “you’re gonna be fine, and you guys are friends. There’s already a comfort level there. Try not to worry so much, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Buffy says.

“Wanna do something to take your mind off it?”

That sounds good. “Sure.”

Shannon gets to her feet and begins folding her blanket. “A bunch of idiots from my building set up a Slip 'N Slide on the hill. Someone’s taking bets on how many of them end up in the hospital.”

Buffy stands as well, sliding her feet back into her sandals. “Is there a hose out there?”

“Nope,” Shannon says. “That’s the best part. They’re covering the whole thing in lube.”

“Sounds gross,” Buffy says, picking her blanket up and shaking it out.

“I know, right? If we hurry, we can get a good spot.”

XXXXX

As the clock ticks toward six o’clock and the end of her shift, Faith keeps herself busy. Although the Sunnydale Motor Inn only has fifteen rooms and is rarely without vacancies, there always seems to be something to take care of around here. The owner had breezed in last November, two weeks after her manager was summarily murdered by Kakistos, and found Faith trying (mostly successfully) to repair a leaky pipe in room 4. Faith had no particular inclination toward plumbing, but the woman in room 4 was a long term renter who’d gone out of her way to smile and say hello whenever she saw Faith outside. The neighborly thing to do was to come to the rescue, kneeling in a giant puddle under the lady’s bathroom sink, trying to follow instructions the lady read aloud from a library book on plumbing basics.

Roberta “Robbie” Gardner, being the kind of woman willing to own a motel within a town on a hellmouth, but not the kind of woman willing to personally manage the motel in a town on a hellmouth, knew a good thing when she saw it. Nearly a year later, Faith’s stayed on for general maintenance and repair work. She also covers the front desk two days a week and provides ad hoc security services to Ms. Dolly, Sunnydale’s oldest working girl, who’s taken up permanent residence in room 11 and whose clientele occasionally need reminding on how to treat a lady. Robbie isn’t exactly in the know on the last part of Faith’s job duties, but Ms. Dolly pays Faith back in gratitude, homemade cookies, and a variety of hand knitted goods, including one lopsided blanket that Faith keeps on the back of her couch in a place of honor. All in all, working in the motel isn’t bad. It requires a flexible attitude towards OSHA violations, but Robbie pays fairly enough, and Faith’s been able to get her own place and keep food on her table. What more can a girl ask for?

Unfortunately, one thing the job doesn’t offer is a totally consistent schedule. At five minutes before six, the businessman staying in Room 1 comes back to his room and finds his A/C unit out of service. In spite of Faith’s very reasonable argument that the temp is going to go down with the sun, Geoff, the second shift manager, makes a series of increasingly pathetic faces at her until Faith agrees to see if she can get the unit back on. Forty minutes later, Faith hasn’t gotten the A/C on, but the occupant has finally agreed that he doesn’t need air conditioning anymore. She puts her tools away and heads out, stopping for takeout on her way home. This leaves her less than an hour to get her place tidied, feed herself, shower, and dress before Buffy arrives.

At least it doesn’t leave her time to overthink things. By the time there’s a knock at her door, just after eight o’clock, Faith’s just finished stuffing her face, and she and the apartment are both mostly presentable. Buffy stands on the other side, tucking immaculately styled hair behind her ears and smiling tentatively at Faith. She looks great, and Faith immediately second guesses her choice to dress more comfortably, but it’s too late now. “Hey,” she says, “come on in.”

Once Buffy’s inside, Faith motions her toward the small kitchen. “I just finished eating,” she says. “You want something?”

“Maybe just a drink?” Buffy suggests.

Faith squeezes past her, her hand brushing the small of Buffy’s back as she goes, and opens the fridge. “I got some of those fruity water things you like.”

Looking surprised, Buffy accepts one of the bottled drinks. “Thanks.”

“I’m just gonna clean up real quick, if that’s cool.”

“Sure,” Buffy says. She scoots out of the way, climbing onto one of the bar stools.

Faith settles her leftover pasta into a storage container and places it in the fridge. She puts away the dishes she’s already washed, occasionally sneaking glances at Buffy where she sits quietly. More than once, she sees Buffy’s eyes lingering on her. It’s interesting, she thinks, as she moves to the sink to wash the last few dishes. She’s been in Sunnydale almost a year, and for most of that time, Faith would have sworn Buffy was as straight as an arrow. Faith was the one sneaking surreptitious glances and letting her hands linger too long when she helped Buffy off the ground during slaying. She’d been pretty surprised when Buffy started asking her questions about her sexuality, and even more surprised by Buffy’s requesting that Faith help her figure things out.

Guess it’s true what they say about college.

Still, Faith’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’s been in a little bit of a dry spell anyway; she’s happy to be Buffy’s test drive. Maybe after this she can finally put the whole Buffy crush to bed, get her out of her system.

Midway through the dishes, some of her loose hair slides forward, falling in her eyes. Faith tosses her head, trying to flick it back out of her eyesight. When it slides right back, she tries again, her hands in sudsy water and unable to brush her hair back. It’s similarly unsuccessful, but Buffy does appear at her side.

“Need some help?” She offers. Without waiting for an answer, she reaches up and tucks Faith’s hair behind her ear, rearranging the length of it so it’s over her shoulder.

Buffy’s fingertips brush the shell of her ear, and Faith manages to keep from shivering. “Thanks,” she says, the corner of her mouth tilting up slightly.

“No problem,” Buffy says, her cheeks a little pink. She shifts away slightly, resting her back against the countertop.

Faith rinses the final dish, then turns the faucet off. Setting the dish in the rack, she reaches around Buffy for a towel to dry her hands. “Let’s go sit?”

In Faith’s small living room, Buffy sits first, more toward the center of the couch than one side. Faith sits beside her, turning so they’re facing each other. 

Buffy looks a little jittery, her foot bouncing slightly as she looks around the room. “So,” she says politely, “how was work?” She makes eye contact with the question, and Faith can see her pull back her shoulders and lift her chin. She’s being deliberately casual although she’s obviously nervous, and it’s really, really cute.

“It was work,” Faith says, deciding maybe she should give them a little forward momentum before Buffy spontaneously combusts or something. She lays her arm across the back of the couch, hand somewhere past Buffy’s shoulder. “What’d you do all day?”

“Um,” Buffy says, looking very aware of Faith’s arm, “I had breakfast with Xander.” Faith slides a little bit closer, her knee almost brushing Buffy’s. “Then I went to the library to meet up with my lab group for bio, because my teacher is a sadist who loves group projects.”

When Faith’s wrist brushes Buffy’s shoulder, she can see Buffy swallow hard. “Sounds boring,” Faith says.

“Yeah, it was—”

Buffy’s sentence cuts off as Faith’s fingers slip into her hair.

“Anything else?” Faith asks kindly, the side of her thumb just brushing Buffy’s jaw.

Buffy shakes her head.

“Okay,” Faith says. Her knee is against Buffy’s now, and she’s close enough that Faith wonders if Buffy can hear how loud her heart is thumping. They've been close like this before—just last week Buffy had stood between Faith's knees in her tiny bathroom, pulling quills out of her face after they fought a demon that could only be described as a porcupine from hell—but it's different now. Last week Buffy was just her fellow slayer, just a friend who was helping her patch up an injury. Buffy wasn’t looking at her lips like she is right now. Faith wasn’t noticing how good Buffy smells.

She smells really good.

Buffy reaches out, looking for a safe place to put her hand, and settles on Faith’s waist. She overshoots it a bit, her arm extended a little awkwardly, but she leaves it there now. Her hand is tucked inside Faith’s open button down, resting over her tank top. Faith wonders if Buffy’s aware that her carefully constructed body language is failing her now. She can see Buffy’s pulse fluttering in her throat. Her lips are parted just a little bit, her eyes wide and focused on Faith’s mouth in a way that makes Faith want to close the distance between them and crush Buffy to her.

Faith’s hand is still lightly threaded into Buffy’s hair, just barely cupping the side of her neck. She tells herself to be careful, go slowly, don’t freak Buffy out. “You still want this?” She asks softly, just in case.  

Buffy nods quickly.

When Faith’s free hand rises to her cheek, Buffy’s eyes close automatically. Faith nudges her chin upward, moving in slowly, just barely pressing her lips to Buffy’s at first. When the hold on her waist tightens, she does it again, angling for more pressure this time. Buffy leans in, her free hand settling on Faith’s knee, and Faith deepens the kiss, parting her lips and feeling Buffy’s do the same.

Buffy’s hair is silky soft between her fingers as Faith winds her hand in further. She’s a little surprised when Buffy’s tongue brushes across her bottom lip, but she responds in kind. They both try to move closer on the couch, legs bumping, until Buffy rises onto her knee and slides closer. She’s leaning over Faith and would probably be more comfortable in her lap, but Faith’s not going to move her any faster than she wants to go.

She tilts her head back and lets Buffy bring their mouths back together. This time, her hand brushes Faith’s cheek carefully, and Faith lets her figure it out, just settles her hands around Buffy’s waist and holds on. Buffy’s hand comes to Faith’s shoulder to hold herself steady, and her hair falls around them like a golden curtain.

Her body reacts more strongly than she expects to Buffy’s tentative little movements, the palm of her hand cradling Faith’s cheek, the pressure of her grip against Faith’s shoulder. Faith would be embarrassed about how shuddery her breathing is if Buffy’s weren’t about the same.

She slides an arm around Buffy’s back, tugging her closer. It’s Buffy who escalates the kiss then, nipping at Faith’s bottom lip with her teeth. Her hand moves from Faith’s shoulder to the side of her neck, her thumb locking Faith’s chin where she wants it.

There you are, Faith thinks, more than happy to let Buffy take charge. She shifts her leg, trying to subtly suggest that Buffy might consider climbing into her lap, but Buffy doesn’t take the bait. She’s focused on licking into Faith’s mouth, then sucking Faith’s lip, hard.

And fuck, she knew Buffy would be a good kisser, but she never figured she’d be finding that out for herself. The noise Faith makes is involuntary, dragged out of her chest by the sweep of Buffy’s tongue over the marks she’s just left in Faith’s lip. Buffy doesn’t seem to mind it, grinning as she kisses Faith again.

Both her hands wind into Faith’s hair. Faith’s free to move her face now, so she does, making her way to Buffy’s neck. She has to brush her hair aside to access it, but then she’s mouthing up the column of her throat.

The hands in her hair tighten, and Buffy groans her appreciation. Faith’s hand steals between them, intent on sliding under Buffy’s sweater. She’s just nudging under the hem with her fingertips when the phone rings shrilly, startling them both.

Faith stops what she’s doing and leans back. Buffy looks down at her, and the kiss-bruised red of her mouth is almost enough to make Faith say fuck it and ignore the phone, but… she rarely gets calls.

“It could be Giles,” she says.

Buffy nods, gently extracting her fingers from Faith’s hair. When she sits back on her heels, Faith slides away from her, getting to her feet.

Her body protests the distance she puts between them, wanting to turn around, go back to the couch, and stretch Buffy out on it, but she keeps moving, crossing to the kitchen and lifting the ringing phone from the wall. “Hello?” She asks, hoping her voice sounds less breathless than she thinks it does.

“Faith?”

“Yeah?” Faith asks, confused. That’s not Giles, and there’s loud music in the background.

“It’s Willow.”

“Oh. Hey.” Faith makes eye contact with Buffy where she’s sitting on the couch waiting. She mouths Willow’s name, and Buffy’s eyes widen.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Willow says. “I can’t reach Buffy, and it’s important. She said you guys were patrolling tonight.”

“Uh, yeah,” Faith says, watching in dismay as Buffy untangles her legs and gets to her feet. “I was just about to go meet her. What’s going on?”

“Oz and I are at a party on campus, and Spike is here with Harmony.”

“Spike?” Faith repeats, alarmed.

“Uh huh,” Willow says. “We’re trying to keep an eye on him, but we could really use backup in case things get intervene-y.”

“I’m leaving now,” Faith says. “I’ll find B on the way. Does she know where this party’s at?”

Buffy nods, drifting closer to her.

“Yeah,” Willow says. “Thanks, Faith.”

“No problem,” Faith says. “Be careful.”

“We will.”

“Spike?” Buffy asks, when Faith’s placed the phone back in its receiver.

Faith summarizes quickly.

“We better go,” Buffy says. She sounds as disappointed as Faith feels at the prospect.

“Yeah.”

They look at each other for a second. Buffy opens her mouth to say something, and Faith’s so sure she knows what it’ll be that she has to fight the urge to cut Buffy off and save her the trouble. That was nice, but I get it now. I’m not interested. Thanks anyway.

Instead, Buffy says, “To be continued?” Her smile is hopeful, a little uncertain.

“Yeah,” Faith says, doing a decent job of hiding her surprise.

Buffy’s smile widens, and Faith can’t help it, she takes her hand and pulls Buffy to her. The kiss is quick, but the way Buffy squeezes her hand lets Faith know it was welcome.

“Let’s go remind Spike whose town this is,” Buffy says when they separate again.

It’s not quite the evening she had planned, but slaying with Buffy? That’s a close second. “Let’s do it,” Faith says.

Chapter Three

Buffy doesn’t usually have a hard time switching into slayer mode, but tonight is anything but usual. Faith is walking beside her as they quickly cross the campus toward Wolf Hall, just as she’s done hundreds of times before, but every cell in Buffy’s body is weirdly aware of her proximity. She’s no closer than normal; she hasn’t said a word about what they were doing before they left the apartment. That hasn’t stopped Buffy’s brain from cycling through a very short circuit of thoughts.

I kissed Faith. She kissed me.

I liked kissing her. I really liked kissing her.

I wanna do that again.

Am I bi? Does this make me bi?

She’s getting ahead of herself here. Them kissing wasn’t supposed to be the test. The rest of it was.

She’s a good kisser.

Did she like it, too?

Buffy steals another glance at Faith, who doesn’t appear to be experiencing the same difficulty getting her head in the game. Her eyes are scanning the darkened pathway in front of them, alert for threats, while Buffy’s moving on autopilot because she’s looking at the cleft in Faith’s chin and thinking about how her thumb fit perfectly into it 20 minutes ago. Faith’s making sure they aren’t about to be ambushed, and Buffy’s stomach is doing somersaults while she remembers Faith groaning into their kiss, her hands tightening on Buffy’s back.

Faith’s trying to do their job, and Buffy’s just wondering how quickly this’ll be over so they can go back to Faith’s apartment.

The evidence in favor of bisexuality:

1.      I liked kissing Faith.

2.      Her hand fits really well with mine, and everyone does not want to hold hands with their friends.

“Looks like we found it,” Faith says quietly, nodding at the crowd they’re approaching.

A hand painted sign announcing a party is hanging over the entrance to the building ahead of them, with music pumping out of the open windows. “Looks like,” Buffy agrees. “You check out here; I’ll go in and try to find Willow?”

Faith nods. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

They move apart, and the space helps Buffy concentrate better on the task at hand. She heads for the front door, determinedly not looking back at Faith. While she walks, she scans the partygoers for Spike’s trademark shock of white blond hair, or the familiar red of Willow’s. She makes it into a lounge that seems to be ground zero for the party without coming across either of them. She’s just squeezing her way past a rowdy beer pong game when she sees red hair fast approaching her. Unfortunately, it’s at this exact moment when someone taps her politely on the shoulder.

“Hey, Buffy.”

She turns, smiling uncertainly at the man beside her. He looks familiar, but she can’t immediately place him.

“Parker,” the guy offers sheepishly, picking up on her confusion.

“Parker, right!” Buffy says, clocking Willow’s approach in her peripheral vision. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Parker says. “I was hoping I’d run into you here.”

“Oh?” Buffy asks, flashing him a polite smile before she turns, waving at Willow.

“Yeah,” Parker says, sidling a little closer. “I—”

“Buffy!” Willow says, abruptly cutting Parker off. “You’re here!”

“I’m here!” Buffy agrees, turning to Willow. “I was looking for, uh, that mutual friend of ours, but I haven’t seen him.”

Willow nods frantically. “Oh, he’s—”

“Buffy, hi!”

The grating sound of Harmony Kendall’s voice is immediately recognizable, and Buffy rolls her eyes as she turns around.

“Cute outfit,” Harmony says, flashing her a fake smile. She stands with Spike, an unconscious man draped between them, a bite wound not even remotely hidden on his neck.

“Harmony,” Buffy says unhappily, “and Spike.”

Spike couldn’t look more pleased with himself if he tried. His eyes flick to Parker still lingering by her elbow and then over to Willow on her opposite side. “Well, this is interesting,” he drawls.

“I think you two should go,” Buffy says firmly.

“But the fun's just starting,” Spike says with a grin. “Old friends, lots to drink.” He jiggles their victim slightly at that, and the man groans.

“Looks like your friend there started the party a little early, huh?” Parker jokes.

Clearly unimpressed, Spike glances at him. “New boyfriend?” He asks Buffy. Without waiting for a response, he says, “I like him. He's got… What's the word?” He pauses, pretending to think, then continues, “Vulnerability.”

Behind the two vampires, Buffy catches sight of Faith slipping through the door. Their eyes meet, and Faith instantly clocks the situation and begins approaching.

Beside her, Parker is holding out his hand to Spike. “Hi, I'm Parker.”

Spike ignores it completely.

Buffy smiles pleasantly at Spike. “And you’re with Harmony,” she says. “Let me guess. Dru dumped you again?”

“Maybe I dumped her,” Spike says defensively, the smile falling off his face.

“Did you two used to go out?” Parker asks, watching this interaction with confusion.

Harmony’s scoff is drowned out by the immediate, hysterical laughter that bursts from Buffy’s chest.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Spike says, “Nah, Buffy’s a good girl. Too much work, you know?” He flashes Parker a very insincere smile. “You gotta play the sensitive lad to pry those dimpled knees apart. Best of luck, mate.”

Before anyone can respond, Spike stumbles slightly.

Faith stands behind him, gripping his shoulder hard enough that he winces. “Hey gang,” she says cheerfully. “You having a reunion without me?”

In a rare show of intelligence, Harmony shoves their victim directly at Buffy and runs. Spike uses the distraction to duck Faith’s hold and follow her. By the time Buffy’s passed the semi-conscious man on to Willow and a very confused Parker, both Faith and the vampires have disappeared.

Buffy leaves the suite, scanning the assembled students for any signs of the three of them as she works her way through the party. She runs into Faith outside.

“I lost them,” Faith says, sounding annoyed. Her cheek is red where she’s taken a hard hit.

“It’s okay,” Buffy says. “Spike’s not exactly low profile. I’m sure we’ll know soon enough why he’s in town.”

Faith smiles grimly. “That, I can tell you. We gotta call Giles.”

Buffy senses that slayer business may be about to ruin the rest of their night, but she still tries to salvage it. “We could call from your place?”

Before Faith can respond, Willow and Oz appear out of the crowd, clearly looking for them.

“Hey!” Willow says, her face worried. “What happened?”

“They got away,” Faith says. “The guy okay?”

“He’s coming around,” Oz answers.

“Good.”

“Faith was just saying that she figured out what Spike’s doing here,” Buffy says.

“Did she also figure out why he’s with Harmony?” Willow asks. “They don’t exactly scream ‘match made in heaven.’”

“Seriously,” Buffy says. Spike and Drusilla make sense, in a creepy, vampire way, but these two?

Leaving Spike’s love life aside for the moment, Oz asks, “So what did he say, Faith?”

“He didn’t say it,” Faith says. “She did. Something about getting the gem of Amara. He looked pissed, dragged her off before she could say more.”

“The gem of Amara,” Buffy repeats thoughtfully. She glances at Willow, but she looks equally puzzled. “We better go,” Buffy says, taking a step closer to Faith. “Gotta fill Giles in!”

“There’s a pay phone right up there.” Willow points in the direction of the quad. “You can call him and come back.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, searching for a reason that won’t work. “Well, we didn’t really finish our patrol…”

“You can finish it later!” Willow encourages, giving Buffy a sly smile. “I told Parker you’d definitely be right back.”

There’s a too long pause while Buffy tries to figure out how to extricate herself from this situation. Just as Willow’s starting to look confused, Faith says, “You go. I’ll call G and finish up.”

“No,” Buffy says quickly. “I mean, uh, we’ll both go and call him. You should come back with me, Faith. We can finish with, umm, patrol later.”

Faith doesn’t exactly look thrilled by the prospect, but she nods.

“We’ll meet you back in there,” Buffy says to her friends, taking Faith’s elbow and starting to pull her in the direction of the quad.

When Willow and Oz are out of earshot, Faith says, “You know, it’s cool with me if you wanna go hang out with your friends. I don’t need to tag along.”

“Sure,” Buffy says, releasing her arm. “I know, but we had plans tonight.”

“We could take a raincheck,” Faith says, sounding unbothered.

The payphone is ahead of them, a bright lamp illuminating the area around it. “We could,” Buffy says, as they approach the kiosk, “but I wanna hang out with you. I don’t care about the party. We can just go make an appearance, then say we have to head out.” She glances at Faith. “Unless you wanna do your own thing. That’s cool too. You don’t have to stay if you—”

“Nah,” Faith cuts in. “I’ll stay.”

Buffy can tell her smile is too wide and she probably looks goofy. “Okay.”

Faith smiles back, shaking her head a little. “Okay.”

XXXXX

It only takes a few minutes of listening to this guy—Parker Abrams—talk before Faith’s got him pegged. The dude is a bullshit artist. He’s dangling different lines of conversation, none of them sounding very sincere, to see what might hook Buffy’s interest. Willow is trying her hardest to be a good wing woman, sitting around a table with them and encouraging the conversation. Faith can’t tell if Buffy’s buying what this guy’s selling or not. He does look like the type Buffy would go for, at least when she’s trying to convince herself that some average human guy her own age is really going to stack up to a multi-centenarian vampire boyfriend. There’s something about him that reminds Faith of the guy who was sniffing around Buffy when she first got to Sunnydale—Scott something. Parker’s got the same dark hair, wide-eyed, boyishly innocent thing going on. In fact, by the time he starts talking about how his father’s death impacted him, she’s pretty sure he’s taking Spike’s advice to heart and going for the sensitive soul thing. She’s gotta hand it to Spike. He wasn’t wrong; wounded, manly pain is right up Buffy’s alley, and Faith really doesn’t want to stick around for it.

She shifts slightly to glance at a clock hanging on the opposite wall. It’s been more than an hour; she’s definitely waited long enough. It’s time to make a plausible exit.

Buffy leans toward her as if she’s reading Faith’s mind. “We should go,” she says, turning so Faith can hear her better.

Faith’s eyes flick to Parker, then back to Buffy, and she keeps her face neutral. “You sure you don’t wanna stay?” She asks, her voice low. Over the sound of the music, she doubts Parker can hear them anyway.

Buffy shakes her head.

“Okay,” Faith says, pleased with this development but keeping that under wraps.

Buffy turns back to the others and begins making their excuses.  Faith basically tunes out, getting up when Buffy looks ready. Parker seems disappointed to see Buffy go, and she manages to keep from grinning about it. The guy’s a douchebag. Buffy can do better.

“So,” Buffy says, when they’ve made their way outside and are finally alone again, “it’s not too late… we could go back to your place.”

Faith glances at her, noting the nervousness radiating from her. She’d figured they were probably headed back to her place but didn’t want to assume. “Yeah,” she says, “sure, if you want to.”

“I do,” Buffy says, then hastily adds, “if you do.”

“I’m down for company,” Faith says. She leaves it intentionally vague, just in case Buffy’s after one of their infrequent friendly hangouts rather than a resumption of the night’s earlier activities.

“Cool,” Buffy says.

They walk farther from the most populated area of campus, into the cool night air. Faith almost breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t always mind crowds—the Bronze is cool—but this feels more natural. She looks at Buffy. “So you think this gem thing is real?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, seeming grateful for the change in subject. “Giles sounded skeptical, but Spike’s not an idiot. I doubt he’d risk coming back here if he didn’t think there was a huge payoff.”

“Vamps with invulnerability,” Faith muses. “Just when I thought this town couldn’t suck anymore.”

“Oh come on,” Buffy says. “You love it here.”

She wouldn’t exactly put ‘love’ and ‘Sunnydale’ in the same sentence. Faith raises one eyebrow.

“We’ve got everything,” Buffy says, then starts listing things off. “Hiking trails.”

“Infested with vamps,” Faith says dryly.

“A beautiful beach.”

“Tohori demons lay their eggs in the sand. Got bit last time I was there.”

Buffy’s enthusiasm doesn’t flag. “They’re finally opening a Starbucks?”

Faith snickers. “You’re right. What was I thinking? Best town ever.”

A dazzling grin is flashed back at her, and Faith can’t help but smile a little.

“When were you at the beach?” Buffy asks.

“Few weeks back,” Faith says. “I went on my day off. The beach was empty. Should have been a tip off.” Tohori bites sting like a bitch too.

Buffy says, “Most species have a relatively short incubation period.”

Faith gives her a sideways look.

“I spend a lot of time with Giles,” Buffy says defensively. “Sometimes stuff sinks in. Anyway, the babies are probably all hatched and gone now.”

Well, maybe she’ll go back then. The Pacific’s got nothing on the Atlantic but—

“You’re off on Tuesdays, right?”

Surprised, Faith nods. She knows my work schedule?

“I only have one morning class,” Buffy says. “We could go see if the beach is safe for the public yet.”

Faith hesitates a second. That could be interpreted a few different ways, but Buffy’s not… No, she’s definitely not asking Faith out. This is a friendly outing. They’re friends.

You fuck a lot of your friends? Some treacherous part of her brain asks.

Buffy’s starting to look twitchier than usual, so Faith says, “Probably should. Part of the job and all.” There, that’ll make it clear. Just a little recon mission among slayers.

“We’d be remiss if we didn’t,” Buffy agrees immediately, looking happy.

“All right,” Faith says. “Beach day it is.”

XXXXX

Finding herself back in Faith’s apartment for the second time today, Buffy resolves to get their original evening plans back on track. She’s done her slayer duty, she’s done her friendship duties by staying at the party a while, now she can focus on herself and her sexual orientation crisis again.

The two of them linger in the front hall for a moment after Faith lets them in. Faith’s probably going to ask her if she wants something from the kitchen, and then maybe they’ll start this whole thing over, back on the couch. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the first go around, but Buffy’s kind of hoping they can pick up where they left off. She can make that happen; she just needs to be a little brave. You’re an adult, she tells herself, pulling her shoulders back. Just tell her what you want.

Faith tucks her hair behind her ear. “So, uh—”

“Show me your bedroom?” Buffy blurts before she can talk herself out of it.

One of Faith’s eyebrows rises, surprised and maybe a little pleased. “This way,” she says, tilting her head toward the opposite end of the hall and expecting Buffy to follow her.

Faith’s bedroom is small and mostly neat. Cosmetics are strewn across her dresser, and Buffy can see an overflowing basket of clothes on the other side of the cracked closet door, but the bed looks freshly made and the floor is cleared of any potential tripping hazards. It’s a long way from the chaos Buffy used to find in Faith’s motel room.

Buffy’s bravery has gotten them as far as the bedroom, but that’s still only part way there. Thankfully Faith bails her out. Stepping closer, she grasps Buffy’s waist. When Buffy leans in, their mouths meet in a kiss.

By the time they’re on the bed, with Buffy’s sweater discarded over the side and Faith’s fingertips ghosting along her spine, Buffy’s congratulating herself on bringing them in here. The sweater thing had felt kind of monumental in the moment—it’s not like Buffy has a lot of experience letting someone undress her—but she’s sufficiently warmed up to it now. Faith’s lips have traversed most of her exposed skin, making their way over her collarbone and across the swell of her breasts, still somewhat constrained by the bra she’s wearing, over her shoulder and to her throat. Buffy likes the way this feels, the way Faith is taking this slowly so she can keep up with her. She likes the way Faith’s hair trails over her shoulder, following in the wake of her lips and tickling Buffy just a little. 

She likes the careful way Faith’s hand cups her through the thin satin of her bra, her thumb just teasing Buffy’s nipple. It’s nothing like the eager pawing from her first boyfriend at Hemery. It’s nothing like Angel either, his big hands gentle but fleeting on her skin as they blew past foreplay and right to the main course.

Faith doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do that.

“Can you—” Buffy starts, grasping the bottom of Faith’s tank.

Faith’s thumb presses into her nipple again, her mouth slow to leave Buffy’s throat, before she leans back slightly. “Yeah,” she murmurs.

They maneuver together, Faith dragging the shirt up and off, as Buffy’s hands follow the same path. She stops short of Faith’s bra, but she lets her gaze wander where her hands aren’t yet brave enough to go.

She already knew Faith had great boobs; Buffy has eyes after all. Seeing her in just a bra reinforces that knowledge, but that’s not all that Buffy notices. Instead, it’s the two freckles standing out against the pale skin of Faith’s left breast and the line of muscle shifting in her inner arm. It’s the little dip in her belly next to her hip bone, and the pink-white mostly healed scar on her side courtesy of the reptilian demons they fought a few weeks ago.

She knows Faith, knows her strength and the way her body moves, and now she gets to know these little details too. She gets to see the way Faith sucks in a breath when Buffy touches her stomach, obviously ticklish, and the way her chest flushes pink and pretty when she’s turned on.

Another point in the bi column, Buffy thinks, when Faith pulls her close again and kisses her, because the squish of Faith’s boobs against her boobs is apparently great, and the flex of muscles in Faith’s back under Buffy’s hands is great, and her fingers are already fumbling at the clasp of Faith’s bra.

She pauses for a second, unsure if she’s allowed to take this off too, but Faith mimics her movements, her own fingers easily unsnapping Buffy’s bra. It takes Buffy a couple of moments to manage to undo Faith’s, distracted by the fact that they’re still kissing and Faith’s simultaneously scratching Buffy’s back in a way that feels amazing.

The clasp comes undone under Buffy’s clumsy wrangling, and Faith stops kissing her long enough to slip her arms free of the straps and toss her bra away. She does the same with Buffy’s, and okay, the ‘someone else’s boobs on your boobs’ thing is even better with no clothes between them. She feels a tightness in her belly, and a little whimper escapes her mouth before she can stop it.

Faith’s eyes skip to hers, a hint of amusement in her face. “Good?” She asks, stroking Buffy’s back.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says. 

Faith brings their mouths back together, one arm holding Buffy tightly to her. Her other hand makes its way over Buffy’s hip and down to her butt. She stays there a minute, letting out a contented hum, before moving her grip to the back of Buffy’s thigh and pulling her leg up.

Buffy goes with it, fitting her thigh over Faith’s hip. Her hips automatically strain toward Faith’s, and Faith squeezes her leg encouragingly. Her hand slides up the back of Buffy’s thigh, so it rests just below her butt.

Feeling a little emboldened, Buffy rolls them both over so she’s on top, straddling Faith’s waist. Faith seems to approve. Her hands settle on Buffy’s waist and she rolls her hips upward, the fly of her jeans pressing into the seam of Buffy’s.

This, at least, is a little familiar. Buffy sits up, letting her weight settle in Faith’s lap. The pressure between her spread legs feels really good, and she starts to rock her hips in rhythm with Faith’s.

Faith’s palms slide up her ribs, her thumbs brushing the underside of Buffy’s breasts. “You look good up there,” she says appreciatively.

It’s ridiculous that that would make Buffy blush given the circumstances, but it does. Buffy gives Faith a long look back, watching the muscles in her stomach tense and relax before her eyes slide up to Faith’s chest. Before tonight, Buffy would have said boobs were no big deal—she’s got her own for starters—but something about seeing Faith’s like this is really working for her. She grinds her hips down a little harder. “You look good down there,” she says back.

Faith’s eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, and her hands tighten on Buffy’s sides. Liking the reaction she’s getting, Buffy angles her pelvis forward a little, her hands finding their way to Faith’s chest.

Looking is different than touching—touching is definitely more intimidating—but Faith’s face does something good when Buffy tentatively slides one hand over her right breast. Her eyes soften, and her head rolls back a little. When Buffy drags her thumb across her nipple, it perks up under her touch, and Faith makes a little noise that catches her interest.

“Pretty sensitive,” Faith explains, her voice sounding a little throaty.

“Bad sensitive?” Buffy asks, stilling her motion.

Faith shakes her head.

Well, if her thumb can elicit that sound… Buffy leans down, bringing her mouth to Faith’s chest. She leaves a few experimental kisses on her way, then brushes her lips over Faith’s nipple.

Faith grips her waist harder, and Buffy grins to herself. Tucking her hair over her shoulder so it’s out of her way, Buffy flicks the tip of her tongue across the hard bud. She’s rewarded with a sharp intake from Faith.

A sound that can only be described as a giggle leaves Buffy’s mouth.

“You’re laughing at me?” Faith asks.

“Not at you,” Buffy says, then closes her lips around Faith’s nipple and sucks.

Faith’s breath is a whine, and the feeling in Buffy’s stomach spreads downward, hot and wet and wanting. Buffy looks up at her, still letting her tongue trace its way across the stiff peak in her mouth.

“You’re a fast learner,” Faith says, her voice strained. Her eyes are trained on Buffy’s mouth.

She’s pleased with the compliment, and Buffy shows her appreciation by bringing her hand to Faith’s other breast, finding her nipple and pinching just a little bit. “This is fun,” she says, when Faith nearly bucks her off in response.

“You thought you’d be bored?” Faith asks a little incredulously.

Buffy switches sides, lapping at Faith’s opposite nipple.

“Fuck—”

“No, not bored,” Buffy says honestly. She kisses her way up Faith’s chest, leaving one of her hands in place, still toying with Faith’s nipple.

“Then what?” Faith asks, sounding slightly clearer.

“I didn’t know,” Buffy says, mouthing along Faith’s collarbone.

Faith accepts that, although probably only because Buffy’s nibbling at the side of her neck now. Releasing Buffy’s waist, she reaches between them and tugs at the button of her pants. “Can I…?”

There’s a new spike of nervousness at that, but Buffy nods. Faith makes quick work of the button and fly of Buffy’s pants, then grasps her hips. She easily rolls them both over so Buffy’s underneath her.

Buffy’s never thought of her own slayer strength as sexy, but on Faith, it’s somehow very hot. Faith sits back on her heels, then slim fingers tuck in the waist of Buffy’s pants and begin peeling them down her legs.

She lifts her hips to help, pulling one foot free and then the other. When Faith turns back, her palms settle on Buffy’s thighs and slowly begin drifting upward, her eyes sliding over Buffy’s body.

Her first instinct is to pull the blankets over herself, to not be seen so exposed, but the way Faith’s looking at her gives her pause. It’s a good look—her dark eyes are soft and her teeth dig lightly into her lower lip. Buffy feels herself flushing, warm and a little giddy. 

Faith’s hands stop at the top of Buffy’s thighs, just short of touching her panties. She makes eye contact, a question clear in her face.

For some reason, removing this last piece of clothing seems incredibly daunting. “Yours first?” Buffy asks.

Faith nods, retracting her hands and moving them to her jeans. Her movements are unhurried, and Buffy watches as she unfastens her pants and pushes them down her hips. Faith has to shift, sitting down on the bed so she can wiggle out of her jeans. When she’s free, she looks back at Buffy. “These too?”

Her hand hovers at her hip, covered now by just a small bit of blue fabric.

Technically, Buffy’s probably collected enough evidence now to answer her sexuality questions, but she doesn’t want to stop here. She nods.

Faith finishes undressing without fanfare, rolling onto her knees again so she’s situated between Buffy’s legs.

Most of Faith’s clothes are tight, so it’s not like Buffy didn’t have a general idea of what her body looks like, but that was apparently not adequate preparation for seeing Faith naked. Buffy’s brain goes a little fuzzy as she looks at her, all smooth skin and strength disguised by softness. Faith’s relaxed, one narrow hip knocking into Buffy’s knee. She seems utterly lacking in self-consciousness while Buffy’s eyes roam across her body. Beautiful legs, a birthmark high on her inner thigh, just beneath her—

Buffy can feel herself flushing, but she’s still looking. Short, dark curls between Faith’s legs, and yeah there’s definitely no sign of a penis here, as expected, but everything is fine, Buffy, everything is on track here, and hey look, abs and a belly button. A really cute belly button—are they normally cute? That’s weird, right? And then, breasts. Already been there, feeling very positive feelings about those. But her eyes are moving south again. Hips and slightly paler skin where a bikini might sit and—

“Earth to B,” Faith says. The smirk on her face lets Buffy know she’s been caught.

“Yes,” Buffy says, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. Yep, I’m here.”

Faith looks suspiciously like she’s trying not to laugh, but she hides it by leaning over and kissing Buffy’s knee. Her hand slides up Buffy’s thigh. “You want yours off?” She asks. “You can leave them on if you want. Up to you.” Her fingertips toy with the edge of Buffy’s underwear, waiting on a response.

“Off,” Buffy says decisively, even though her heart is pounding harder than ever.

The last of Buffy’s clothing slips off easily, then Faith stretches out beside her. She wastes no time in drawing Buffy close again and kissing her again.

Buffy’s earlier boost of confidence is gone. Her hands are shaking a little, nerves, adrenaline, and heightened sensations all mixing. She just hopes Faith doesn’t notice. This was Buffy’s idea; she’s the one who asked her to do this, and Faith’s, like, doing her a favor basically. If she notices, it’ll make it even more obvious that Buffy is tragically inexperienced and she’ll probably change her mind about the whole thing.

Faith, of course, does notice when Buffy reaches for her hip. “You’re shaking,” she says, catching Buffy’s hand in hers and squeezing lightly. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” Buffy hums cheerfully, trying to pull her hand free.

Leaning back, Faith looks at her more closely. “B,” she says, not releasing her hand, “should we stop?”

“No,” Buffy insists in that same upbeat tone. When Faith fails to look convinced, she deflates slightly. “I’m just nervous.”

Faith squeezes Buffy’s hand again before letting go. “We don’t have to—“

“I want to!” That’s not a lie. Faith’s legs are tangled with hers, and their bellies press together. Buffy’s pulse is thrumming between her legs, and she’s achy in that way that usually only happens after a really hard fight on patrol. The idea of them stopping now seems like the worst possible outcome. “I want to,” she says again, settling her hand on Faith’s hip.

“I know,” Faith says softly, “but there’s no deadline, right? It doesn’t have to be right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Buffy says, “but I want it to be.”

Faith studies her for another moment before she nods. “Okay,” she says, “but if you change your mind—”

“I’ll tell you,” Buffy promises.

Sliding her hand into Buffy’s hair, Faith gently cups the side of her neck, then kisses her. In spite of all Buffy’s newly bared skin, she seems to be consciously slowing things down. She doesn’t protest Buffy’s hand wandering onto her ass, but she also keeps hers in relatively safe spots.

Kissing Faith is a really good distraction from her own nerves, it turns out. Buffy’s easily pulled into a comfortable haze of Faith’s lips on hers and Faith’s hands stroking her hair and her back. When Faith moves her attention to Buffy’s jaw line, she rolls her head to provide better access. It takes her a few seconds to realize Faith’s said something, her voice low and soft by Buffy’s ear.

“Huh?” Buffy asks.

Faith chuckles. “I said, what do you like?”

A faint echo of panic resumes in Buffy’s brain. Faith knows that Buffy’s only really does this once, doesn’t she? “I don’t—I mean, I haven’t—”

“What do you like when you’re by yourself?” Faith clarifies, still sounding unhurried. She mouths down Buffy’s throat, slow and warm. The heat of her breath against Buffy’s neck makes her skin prickle in anticipation.

“I don’t really—” Buffy stops, feeling embarrassed. “I mean, I’m not sure.”

Faith’s mouth falters for a second, but only that, then she kisses Buffy’s shoulder and says, “Okay.”

“Sorry,” escapes Buffy’s mouth before she can stop it, and she immediately winces.

Faith lifts her head, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “I’ll make you feel good,” she says, and her voice is so self-assured that Buffy forgets to be nervous for a second. “Just tell me if I do something you don’t like, okay?”

Buffy nods her agreement.

“Lay back,” Faith directs, pushing her hip gently.

Shifting, Buffy settles onto her back. Faith leans into her side, propped on one arm, and brings their mouths together. Her hand starts at Buffy’s hair, then works its way down her neck and over her shoulder, until she’s touching Buffy’s chest.

She doesn’t linger there, moving instead to Buffy’s stomach. Buffy sucks in a breath, excited and anxious at once, but Faith doesn’t immediately reach between her legs. Light fingertips stroke Buffy’s belly before moving onto her hip and sliding onto her thigh.

It tickles a little, but mostly it feels really good. When Faith nudges her thighs apart, Buffy follows her direction, bending her knee a little so her legs open further.

It’s not cold in the room. In fact she’s pretty warm, tucked against Faith on one side and somewhat sunken into the fluffy comforter on Faith’s bed, but the newness of the slightly cooler air reaching her very warm skin still makes her break into goosebumps.

It’s strangely vulnerable, knowing that Faith could be touching her. Faith could be looking at her, if she weren’t currently occupied with licking her way into Buffy’s mouth. Buffy doesn’t remember this feeling from her sum total one experience of letting another person be this close to her, but most of that night is a blur anyway, over too quickly and then buried under the world of hurt that came after.

This time is different, and not in a bad way. It’s not the same kind of reckless passion she’s experienced before. It’s slow and anticipatory. It’s had space to build, until every part of her that’s touching Faith feels like it’s on fire. Buffy’s sticky and she’s sore and she wants.

Faith’s hand hasn’t moved far, her thumb just barely on Buffy’s inner thigh. She rubs soothing circles there before inching a little further up Buffy’s leg.

Are thighs erogenous zones? Buffy has no idea, but based on the sparks she feels between her hips, she’s going to go with yes.

When Faith’s hand is close enough that Buffy can feel the warmth of her skin almost but not quite at the apex of her thighs, Faith’s mouth leaves hers. She trails soft kisses down Buffy’s jaw to her neck, and Buffy sighs happily. She closes her eyes as she does, trying not to push her hips toward Faith’s hand.

Faith says, “Was this for me?” And then her palm is resting on Buffy’s mound, fingertips lightly stroking her labia.

All Buffy’s blood seems to rush between her legs, and she has no idea what Faith even said. “Huh?”

“This,” Faith says, purposely touching the smooth skin where Buffy’s shaved.

“Oh,” Buffy says, her eyes still closed. She hopes Faith isn’t looking too closely at the haphazard shaping she managed with one leg up on the shower stall wall. “Uh, yeah. I thought it”—would take a machete to find your way through?—“would look prettier.” That sounded weird. Is she going to think that was weird? ‘It would look prettier?’ Oh my God.

Faith doesn’t laugh, but she does sound amused. “You’re cute,” she says, and Buffy’s starting to feel just a little mortified.

“You think it’s dumb,” Buffy says, her thighs starting to close automatically.

“Hey, no,” Faith protests, bracing her forearm against Buffy’s leg so she can’t close them completely. “I don’t. I promise.” Her lips brush Buffy’s shoulder. “You’re right; it’s very pretty.”

That doesn’t feel very sincere, but Buffy lets Faith nudge her legs apart anyway.

“You’d be pretty either way,” Faith adds. “Look at you—you’re a knockout.”

Okay, that Buffy likes.

The tip of Faith’s middle finger slides between Buffy’s labia, and that she likes even better. Her arm wraps around Faith’s back, looking for something to hold onto.

It’s not until Faith begins touching her that Buffy realizes how wet she really is. Faith has no trouble coating her fingers completely. Under her breath, she murmurs a soft mmm, and the sound makes Buffy’s stomach clench.

Starting with long strokes, Faith’s nimble fingers glide over and between Buffy’s lips, never quite touching her clit, but getting close enough to make her toes feel tingly. Buffy tolerates that for a minute before the hand on Faith’s back digs in slightly. Come on.

Faith gets the message. She drags her fingers up Buffy’s slit, gently brushing across her clit.

A gasp leaves Buffy’s mouth before she can stop it, and the corner of Faith’s lips turns up, one of her dimples flashing.

As she starts to circle Buffy’s clit, Faith’s gaze alternates between her hand and Buffy’s face. Buffy’s a little self-conscious—who knows what her face is doing right now?—but she’s easily distracted by the sensations between her legs.

Faith’s good at this, she thinks, her eyes fluttering closed again. She squeezes Faith tighter against her without meaning to, but Faith doesn’t seem to mind. She just shifts her weight and lets Buffy hold onto her for dear life.

Faith mouths along Buffy’s jaw line, her teeth nipping just a bit. “So pretty,” she murmurs against her skin, and Buffy manages a response that’s mostly just a groan.

Her thighs drift closer together naturally, and Faith doesn’t miss a beat. She slings her leg over Buffy’s, keeping her how she wants her, legs parted enough for her to work. Buffy’s muscles strain against the new confinement, and to her surprise, she finds that that makes this even better.

Faith’s fingers press down a little harder against her clit, just this side of good, and Buffy’s next breath is a strangled moan. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest, and Faith chases that too, her mouth on Buffy’s breast, her tongue tracing patterns that leave electricity in their wake.

She’s trembling, dizzy with how good this feels. She’s hot, then cold, breath hitching in her chest as Faith strokes and circles, kisses and licks, her mouth hungry against Buffy’s skin.

It feels like she needs more, but she doesn’t know what and she doesn’t know how to ask for it. She grips Faith’s shoulder, blunt nails digging into her skin. More, more.

High, needy noises split the air between them and she doesn’t realize they’re coming from her until they’re smothered under Faith’s kiss. Faith gives her more without her asking, her hand shifting down and cupping Buffy fully.

Fingertips nudge at her opening, and then Faith is sliding inside her, slick and deep and just the right amount of stretch. Faith groans against her mouth, and her hips press into Buffy’s leg.

Buffy’s head goes fuzzy with pleasure and pressure, a dam holding out against a flash flood. Her toes curl against Faith’s shin. Almost, almost—

Then Faith’s thumb is on her clit, sliding up and down with each thrust of her fingers, and Buffy’s back is arching. Heat swims through her stomach, concentrating deep inside her.

Biting back a moan, Buffy tries to control herself the way she always does. The mask is always in place, not too strong, not too fast, not too desperate, not even now.

Faith’s breath is hot against her mouth as she says, “No, let me hear you.” She punctuates that demand with a deeper thrust, her knuckles pressed into Buffy’s opening. Faith’s thumb forms another rough circle, and this time Buffy doesn’t hold back. She cries out as she clenches around Faith’s fingers and her whole body starts to shake.

“Fuck,” Faith whispers against her cheek, slowing her movements down as Buffy pants and goes limp. Buffy somehow hears it through the ringing in her own ears. It sounds reverent and smug at once, and she laughs breathlessly.

Faith laughs too, sweeter and softer than Buffy’s ever heard from her before. She lets her forehead rest against Buffy’s shoulder and very carefully withdraws her hand, settling it on her hip.

As Faith shifts her leg off Buffy’s, restoring some of her mobility, Buffy realizes her thigh is warm and distinctly wet where Faith was pressed against it. Her belly does a pleasant little flutter in anticipation. They’re not done yet.

XXXXX

When she can hear Buffy’s heartbeat returning to something resembling normal, Faith leans back, still within the circle of her arm. Buffy’s hairline is damp, and rosy blotches stand out along her jaw, courtesy of Faith’s teeth. She eyes her mouth, parted and pink. “That was so hot,” she says. “The way you sound…”

Buffy goes a little pinker, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Seriously,” Faith says, noticing. She squeezes Buffy’s hip. “Really, really hot.”

So hot, in fact, that it’s currently a struggle not to excuse herself to the bathroom, put her back against the wall, and get herself off very, very quickly. She’s not sure if what they’ve done so far has fulfilled Buffy’s quest for some girl-on-girl action or if she’s planning to return the favor. Faith definitely has a preference, but she’ll deal either way. She went into this having decided to follow Buffy’s lead. She’s not going to ask her for anything.

Buffy glances at her, meeting her eyes briefly before looking down. It’s actually alarming how cute Faith finds this shy version of her. Faith’s primarily seen her slayer side, the arena in which Buffy’s hot shit and she knows it. Sure, she’s occasionally seen her act a little less confident, but the blushing (almost) virgin is a whole new side to Buffy. It makes Faith want to kiss her again, so she does.

She’s not trying to jump start anything with that kiss, but Buffy curls toward her nonetheless, sandwiching their bodies together. Faith’s hand slides onto her lower back, holding her loosely.

Moving the arm that’s between their bodies, Buffy brings her palm to Faith’s shoulder, kissing her again. She licks at the seam of Faith’s lips, and Faith lets her in.

Her cunt makes its interest in these proceedings known, squeezing and flooding again, like perhaps she failed to notice the amount of wetness it’s already contributed. Faith’s planning to ignore it, but then Buffy’s hand finds its way onto her tit.

Maybe she is up for this, Faith thinks, as Buffy circles her areola with one fingertip. Her nipple pebbles and moves to attention, but Buffy ignores it, keeping her touch light.

She nips at Faith’s lower lip, then licks the same place. When she captures her nipple between two fingers and tugs it gently, a grunt pulls from Faith’s throat. Her back arches, pushing her chest more firmly against Buffy’s hand.

Buffy grins against her mouth before she redoubles her efforts. She presses closer, cupping Faith’s breast. A swipe of her thumb sends a jolt of heat through Faith’s body.

She can’t see Buffy’s movements with them locked together like this, but the image fills her head anyway: Buffy’s little hand, the nails polished girly girl pink, feeling her up like they’re keyed up teenagers at a sleepover. She thinks about Buffy using her mouth and an even nicer picture replaces that one.

Buffy’s hips push into hers. Her breathing is a little quicker now too, and it finally occurs to Faith that Buffy likes touching her. Faith’s been with a few chicks who were all about the receiving—she’s good at what she does after all—but not very interested in the giving back part. She’d half suspected Buffy might be one of them, but damn if she isn’t eager now.

Pulling her lips away, Faith flexes her hand on Buffy’s back and suggests, in what she hopes is a totally casual and not at all desperate way, “Suck on them?”

“Uh huh,” Buffy says happily, wiggling down Faith’s body before Faith can even start to pull her arm back.

Buffy’s kissing her chest immediately, her arm around Faith’s middle. Her weight tilts Faith onto her hip, but Buffy’s palm between her shoulder blades anchors her.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs her left nipple, and Faith doesn’t bother smothering her groan. Buffy’s lips pull at her skin, tongue swirling around the peak.

She switches sides a moment later, one achingly stiff bud cradled on her tongue, the other rolled between her fingers, spit slick and hard. Faith’s pussy clenches, and she squeezes her thighs together, soaked and still getting wetter.

Through lots of experimentation, she’s figured out that playing with her tits like this is almost as good as touching herself, but she doesn’t usually volunteer that information. With partners, she’d rather it be less intimate—a quick fuck with a dude whose name she won’t learn, or some blonde’s hand down her pants in the back of a club. She’s not going to give away her secrets, not going to let someone make her feel like a live wire, trembling and weak kneed and desperate. But Buffy’s not an anonymous hook up, she’s a friend. She’s a friend and she trusts Faith enough to ask for this. Faith can at least show a little of that back.

Buffy’s relentless, scraping her teeth gently over the already tender flesh in her mouth before she sucks again. Faith squirms, panting and digging her fingers into the comforter. She can’t remember the last time she was this strung out with anticipation, and she still doesn’t know where Buffy’s intending to take this.

That question is answered a moment later, when Buffy’s spare hand tentatively slips onto her thigh. The stickiness there is unavoidable, but Buffy doesn’t shy away, she strokes her fingertips over Faith’s skin while she switches her attention back to Faith’s opposite nipple.

Faith loosens the tension in her legs, leaving some space if Buffy wants to slide between them. She wants Buffy to touch her, feels dangerously close to taking Buffy’s hand or her thigh or any other part of her she can reach and shoving it between her legs so she has something to rub herself on, but she manages to say, “Only if you want to, you know that, right?”

Buffy nods, letting Faith’s nipple slip from her lips. She kisses Faith’s sternum, and says, “I want to. I just…”

“What?” Faith asks, trying to control her breathing so they can have this conversation without her chest heaving against Buffy’s cheek.

“I, uh, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Buffy admits, talking mostly to Faith’s left tit. “I don’t know what’s too much.”

Faith unclenches her fingers from the blanket and brings them to Buffy’s chin. “You’re not gonna hurt me,” she says, when Buffy allows her face to be lifted enough for them to make eye contact, “and even if you did, I’d tell you, you’d stop, and it would be fine.”

Buffy nods, not looking entirely convinced.

“I trust you,” Faith says. “I’m not worried. Do you trust me?”

Buffy nods again.

“Then trust me to tell you if I need you to stop.”

Dealing with the sudden resurgence of Buffy’s nerves has put the tiniest damper on Faith’s raging hormones, but they come back full force when Buffy says, “Okay,” and stretches upward to kiss her again.

Faith grabs her waist and carefully rolls onto her back, Buffy on top of her. Buffy’s leg falls between hers in the process, and the temptation to roll her hips is strong. Buffy’s thigh would feel so good against her cunt right now. Instead, she manages to keep control and finish turning them over, so Buffy’s half on her, half on the opposite side of the bed. At Buffy’s confused face, she says, “You’re a righty, yeah? It usually goes a little better with your dominant hand.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, “yeah.” Demonstrating her agreement, her right hand settles on Faith’s stomach. She glances downward, and Faith follows the path of her eyes, seeing what she sees: Buffy’s hand just under her belly button, the dark nest of curls below that.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to shave,” Faith teases lightly. She did, however, trim. No sense in scaring Buffy back to heterosexuality with a 70s bush.

“That’s okay,” Buffy says, letting her hand drift a little lower. “I like it.” The truth of that is in her face. She’s flushed, her lips parted a little, looking mesmerized by her own hand as she slides her fingers into Faith’s curls.

The first tentative brush of her fingertips across Faith’s labia feels like such a relief that she almost cries. She settles for clutching Buffy’s back and spreading her legs further.

Buffy dips between Faith’s lips, getting her first feel of the hot, slick skin waiting for her, and lets out a shaky exhale. “You’re—” she starts, her voice high and tight, then seems to lose her train of thought as she finds Faith’s clit.

“Yeah,” Faith murmurs, squeezing her eyes shut while Buffy spins a gentle circle around her clit. She’s familiar with that feeling—the first time you work your way between someone’s thighs and see how badly they want you—and some part of her basks in the victory of being Buffy’s first time. Whatever happens after tonight, whether Buffy goes back to strictly dickly or starts sleeping her way through every sorority on campus, Faith had her first.

Circles give way to stroking, and that’s fine by her because Faith’s pretty flexible. Pressure is pressure, and at this point, she’s pretty sure anything Buffy does will get her there.

“Am I doing it right?” Buffy asks, not stopping but sounding a little uncertain.

Faith realizes she’s been concentrating, her muscles tense, and to Buffy she probably looks checked out. She makes an effort to relax, opening her eyes and finding Buffy, pink cheeked, and wide eyed, looking at Faith for reassurance like she can’t tell from the fact that there’s a veritable river between Faith’s legs right now that she’s enjoying it.

“Uh huh,” Faith says, rubbing her back encouragingly.

Still looking at her face, Buffy makes her touch a little rougher, circling again.  Faith’s cunt contracts, hard, and she grunts, jerking underneath Buffy.

Buffy freezes. “Is that—”

“No, it’s good,” Faith says, covering Buffy’s hand with hers. “It’s really good.” She moves her fingers atop Buffy’s, showing her how hard she can press. “Just like that.”

Their eyes lock, Buffy breathing hard and Faith trembling just a little. Warm, tingly feelings start in Faith’s legs as they move their hands together.

Buffy’s hand is absolutely coated under hers, and Faith finds herself wishing she could guide her down further, line up her fingers and push them inside her. Buffy saves her the trouble.

“I wanna do what you did to me,” she says.

Faith’s a little fuzzy on what happened 10 seconds ago, let alone earlier in the night. “What did I—”

“I wanna go inside you,” Buffy cuts in.

Faith’s nodding before she finishes speaking. “Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” Faith pants, and this time she does usher Buffy’s hand downward, biting back a whine as her fingers glide down her slit. Buffy happily allows herself to be led, positioning two fingers at Faith’s entrance.

Gripping her wrist, Faith slowly guides Buffy’s fingers inside her. For a second they pause there, Faith’s clit twitching against her own wrist. She presses her hand down desperately, trying to keep herself under control.

That lasts only as long as it takes Buffy to shift her fingers just slightly. Unable to hold back anymore, Faith tilts her hips down and then rolls them up again, fucking herself on Buffy’s fingers.

The sound of her own moan is obscured by Buffy’s, and then Buffy’s moving her hand in conjunction with Faith’s hips. It takes a few thrusts to get coordinated, but then they’ve got it, Buffy pushing in each time Faith grinds down against her fingers.

Her vision swims a little. “Fuck—Buffy—”

Faith’s back arches and the sight of her chest jutting out seems to remind Buffy that she can do more than one thing at once. Without slowing her stroke, she leans, bringing her mouth back to Faith’s breasts.

She laves her tongue over Faith’s nipple before taking it into her mouth. When she starts to flick with her tongue, Faith’s lower body tenses, her cunt pulling at Buffy’s fingers for more.

Her hand is in Buffy’s hair, too tight, too rough, but Buffy groans around her nipple, fucking her harder now, and Faith can’t stop. Buffy’s other hand finds its way between them, seeking out and finding Faith’s clit.

Faith’s teetering at the edge, her body burning, her legs shaking. “B—fuuu—Buffy—”

There’s an affirmative noise against her tits, but Faith barely hears it over the sound of her own heart thudding wildly in her chest. Buffy rubs her clit, fast and firm, and Faith’s gone.

She crushes Buffy against her as her body clamps down and spasms on Buffy’s fingers. She has no idea what she says. Her mouth is just moving, sound bubbling free from her clenched teeth as heat and pleasure flood through her.

When she falls limp, Buffy slips her hands free. She gives Faith’s nipple a goodbye kiss before she settles onto her side, her head nestled into Faith’s shoulder.

It’s quiet other than their harsh breathing. Sweat rapidly cools against her skin, making Faith shiver a little, but she’s not really in a position to move yet.

Instead, Buffy leans down and grabs the covers, pulling them over the both of them. It’s a bit out of the norm, having someone in her bed with her, cozying up rather than getting dressed to go, but Faith finds it doesn’t bother her.

Her arm is loose around Buffy, her fingertips painting abstract patterns along the small of her back. “How do you feel?” She asks after a few moments.

“Good,” Buffy says softly. Her hand is on Faith’s ribs, her head heavy against her shoulder. Faith’s whole body is pleasantly tingly, and she’s getting sleepy.

“How do you feel?” Buffy asks back.

Faith says, “Really good,” and kisses the top of her head.

 Chapter Four

Shannon manages to hold it together long enough for them to swipe their meal cards and make their way to the outside patio with their trays. Buffy sits down, pushing her hair back with her sunglasses and wrangling the lid of her salad container off. She’s just torn open the corner of the salad dressing packet when Shannon very calmly sets her utensils aside, leans across the table, and asks, “Why do you hate me?”

“What?” Buffy asks, taken aback.

“What have I ever done to you, Buffy? I thought we were friends.”

“We are—”

“Then why have I been waiting”—she checks her watch and then holds her wrist up pointedly—“19 minutes for you to tell me how last night was?”

Snickering, Buffy resumes dressing her salad.

“Oh my God,” Shannon says with dismay.

“It was good!” Buffy says.

“‘Good?’” Shannon scoffs, picking up her fork and jamming it angrily into her burger. “That’s all you’re giving me?” When she picks up a knife and begins cutting the burger in half particularly militantly, Buffy relents.

Taking a quick glance around the patio, she sees that they’re mostly alone. “It was great,” she says in a low voice.

Sensing she’s won, Shannon scoots her chair closer to Buffy’s. “So you guys went for it?”

Buffy nods, spearing some lettuce with her fork.

“And were you as nervous as you expected?” Shannon probes, taking a bite of her burger.

Buffy thinks about that while she chews. “Yeah,” she admits, “but she was amazing—just, like, really patient and she checked in a lot.”

“She took care of you,” Shannon says, sounding like she gets it. She grins. “Plus she’s hot so that doesn’t hurt.”

Buffy’s pretty sure she didn’t describe Faith as ‘hot’ when they discussed this last time, but it’s not exactly inaccurate so she just nods.

“So it sounds like it was good, having your first time be with a friend?”

“Definitely,” Buffy says. Even the dreaded ‘morning after’ went pretty smoothly. Faith made coffee for both of them and they ate cold pizza at the kitchen counter until they had to leave for the real world, Faith to work and Buffy to look for Spike. It didn’t feel weird—in fact, it felt oddly comfortable for the two of them.

Shannon makes an excited noise that earns them a few looks, grasping Buffy’s arm and shaking her. “I knew it would be!”

She can’t help but grin in response. It’s nice having someone to talk about this with, outside of the usual suspects. If she even broached the subject with Xander, she’s pretty sure his brain would explode. She could talk to Willow, but she’s not sure she’s ready for that. This is easier.

“So, was this a one time thing or…?” Shannon wiggles her eyebrows.

“Or what?”

“You tell me.”

“It was a one time thing,” Buffy says, although saying that out loud gives her a little twinge of disappointment.

Shannon eyes her skeptically. “You don’t sound sure.”

“Well,” Buffy says, thinking out loud, “she’s—I mean—we aren’t going to start dating or something.”

“Who said anything about dating?” Shannon asks breezily. She chomps down on a French fry before continuing. “You’re in college now, Buffy! Live a little. You can keep going with the friends with benefits thing.”

That’s… not a terrible idea, actually. “I don’t know,” Buffy says, but mentally she’s already started a ‘pros’ list. She hasn’t quite figured the sexuality thing out yet, but if she ends up dating another woman down the road, it would be good to have some more experience. Gaining that experience with a friend is an easy, risk free way to do it. No awkward dating or getting her heart broken. Plus, she’s been waiting an embarrassingly long time to be physical with someone. Doesn’t she deserve to have that? And most importantly Faith was really, really good in bed. Not that Buffy has a basis for comparison, but from everything she’s heard, she’s not sure that the level of good she experienced with Faith is super common. Or maybe it is among lesbians. She’s not clear on that.

But, yes, things with Faith were decidedly of the good, and Buffy definitely deserves to have good things because she’s out saving the world every night, and anyway she’s behind the curve and she needs to get caught up. She can learn from Faith. This could be an educational experience, horizon broadening, exactly what college is about—

“Buffy?”

Shannon’s hand waves in front of her face, and Buffy blinks, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” she says. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Shannon says, sounding smug. Over Buffy’s shoulder, she waves at someone. “Tara’s coming over,” she says.

Buffy glances back a little nervously. “Can we just keep this between us?”

“Of course,” Shannon says immediately. “As incredibly jealous of your brand new sex life as I am, I will absolutely keep it to myself and just, you know, seethe with jealousy in secret.”

“Thank you,” Buffy says, smiling.

XXXXX

When Buffy opens the door to their room, Willow’s already home. She’s in the process of loading books into her messenger bag, but she stops at the sound of the door. Straightening up, she says, “There you are!”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, “sorry I missed you this morning. I couldn’t sleep. I got up way early and figured I’d do some recon and see if I could find anything on Spike.”

“Anything?” Willow asks.

Her acceptance of Buffy’s story is so easy that Buffy almost breaks down and admits that she’s lying. She doesn’t like hiding things from Willow, but the prospect of answering questions about her sexuality when Buffy’s still not exactly sure what to say about it seems even worse. “Not yet,” she says. “What about you?”

“We’re still looking for the crypt,” Willow says. “I’m heading back to Giles’s. Just had to grab this.” She holds a book aloft.

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to it,” Buffy says. “I came for visual aids.” Moving to her bed, she kneels and pulls out a long storage box. Rifling through, she unearths her Sunnydale High yearbook. “If I can’t find Spike, maybe someone remembers seeing Harmony.”

“Smart,” Willow says.

When Buffy pushes the box back under the bed and stands, Willow is sitting cross legged on her own bed and grinning.

“What?” Buffy asks suspiciously.

“You know!” Willow says, bouncing a little.

Buffy blinks, confused. Could Willow have figured out what she’s been up to?

“Parker!” Willow says.

Oh. Right.

“It seemed like he was pretty into you!” Willow says, gesturing for Buffy to sit beside her. “What did you think?”

Buffy takes a seat. “I guess so.”

“I know so, missy,” Willow says sternly. She grasps Buffy’s hand, squeezing excitedly. “He was practically drooling over you.”

“Really?” Buffy asks, surprised.

Willow nods excitedly. “And you played it so cool. You definitely left him wanting more.”

This is complete news to Buffy. She’s not sure she remembers most of what Parker said to her; she was too busy thinking about what might happen when they got back to Faith’s apartment.

“And!” Willow says, releasing Buffy’s hand long enough to lean away and grab something from her bedside table. “I found this when I got in this morning.” She thrusts out a folded piece of paper.

Accepting the paper, Buffy opens it to find Parker’s name and phone number scrawled along with a message. Buffy, let’s hang out soon?

Admittedly, Buffy’s flattered. Parker’s cute—he’s really cute—she’s just kind of got her hands full at the moment.

“I love this part!” Willow gushes. “Don't you love this part? Where it's all new and everything's a discovery?”

“I don't know—” Buffy starts to say, but last night was filled with new discoveries. She thinks about Faith underneath her. You look good up there. Smiling, Buffy says, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

XXXXX

Faith cruises down Main Street, making her way toward UC Sunnydale’s campus. Bright morning light shines overhead, and the street is already bustling with patrons. She’s not usually up this early on her days off, but if she’s headed for the (hopefully not infested with demon babies) beach, there’s no sense wasting daylight. Besides, if they wait any longer to head out, they’ll get sucked into researching mode. They still haven’t found Spike or Harmony, and they’re all getting a little jumpy about that, including Faith. But like she told Buffy last night, a few hours at the beach in the middle of the day isn’t going to make a difference. They can sneak away, get their sun on, and be back before Giles ever notices.

Turning carefully into the parking lot closest to Buffy’s dorm, Faith slides into an open spot and puts her car in Park. Before she gets out, she gives the interior another once over. She keeps it relatively tidy, but she also doesn’t usually have people in it. She’s only owned the little car a few months, and it’s not new. It is, in fact, a 1992 Jetta with almost a hundred thousand miles on it. The dude who sold it to her in the parking lot of the Ice Palace told her it was colored ‘calypso metallic.’ It sounded nice enough, but in reality, calypso metallic bears an uncanny resemblance to hospital room walls. Still, it’s hers. The air conditioning is reliable, it gets her to work and back, and it’s a one way ticket out of Sunnydale any time she needs. Sure, it’s only got a tape deck, but she’s got an adapter so she can play her discman through the stereo, and the dude threw in two of those beaded seat covers. She’s named it Joanne.

Satisfied with the state of Joanne’s interior, Faith shoves her bag of beach gear into the backseat, pops down the visor, and checks herself out in the mirror. The lipstick is good, and her tits look amazing in her bikini, even with a light shirt over top. Time to motorvate.

No sooner does Faith step out of the parking lot and onto the grass than she hears shouting from the direction of Buffy’s building. She moves to a jog, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of trouble. It doesn’t take long to find it.

In the daylight, Spike’s hair and skin are shockingly pale. It throws her for a second, seeing him under the open sun, decidedly not on fire, but then she’s hustling toward him. She sees Buffy, dancing around him, dodging and ducking his blows. Xander is nearby, slumped on the ground. Students are scattering, but none of them are intervening.

Faith slows her approach, trying to stay out of Spike’s line of sight. As she creeps closer, she hears him mouthing off as usual.

“So, what happened with the new boy toy? I saw him over yonder”—he backhands Buffy hard across the face—“putting the moves on a pretty little thing.”

Gritting her teeth, Buffy kicks him, connecting with his knee and sending him stumbling.

Spike pops back up like a damned bop bag. “Wonder what you did wrong,” he says with faux sympathy. “Too strong? Did you bruise the boy?” He deflects Buffy’s next blow then drives his fist into her abdomen, doubling her over.

Faith’s almost there. As she slips past Xander, she gives him a concerned look. She’s relieved when he flashes a weak thumbs up.

Spike’s still droning on. “Guess you're not worth a second go. Come to think of it, seems like someone told me as much.” He grins, catching her shoulder. “Who was that?” He asks as if thinking. “Oh, yeah. Angel.”

As he yanks her upright, Buffy scores a blow across his cheek.

Spike shakes it off, spitting a little blood. “Always so aggressive,” he says. “Maybe that’s why no one comes back for seconds. Who would want—”

Faith’s stake sinks deep in his back, piercing his heart. She smiles widely at Buffy over his shoulder. “Hey girlfriend, need a hand?”

He roars in agony, but unfortunately Spike doesn’t explode into a cloud of dust. Guess this gem’s the real deal then.

“Nice try,” Spike bites, clearly in pain. “That’s the thing about invulnerability—ow! Bloody hell!”

Faith’s stabbed her stake into his back again, and now she pulls it free. “Can’t kill you, but it hurts like a bitch, right?”

“And it’s a nice distraction,” Buffy chimes in, as Faith kicks the back of his knees.

As Spike stumbles to the ground, Buffy yanks his arm up, trying to grasp the ring.

“Take it off me this way, and we all burn!” Spike warns, sounding desperate.

“Really?” Buffy asks. “Let's see.”

There’s a cracking sound as she snaps his finger and pulls the ring free.

Spike immediately begins smoking and he leaps to his feet, knocking Faith backward in the process. He scrambles away, managing to find an open manhole and dropping in before they can stop him.

Buffy sighs, but she holds up the ring. “Got time for a stop on our way to the beach?”

XXXXX

The beach is so empty that at first Faith assumes the Tohori infestation must be going strong, but by the time they’re situated on their blanket, she has to admit it seems to be blessedly demon free. Maybe the rest of the town just doesn’t have the inside scoop on demon breeding cycles. Beside her, Buffy sits in a bikini, carefully applying sunscreen to her arms. She’s been pretty quiet thus far, and Faith’s got a good idea as to why. Buffy had requested that Oz deliver the ring to Angel during his upcoming gig in LA. The proposal wasn’t exactly unanimously supported, but the group mostly held their tongues. Faith doesn’t really have a strong opinion either way. She’s no big fan of Angel, but as far as she knows the only way for his soul to come unglued again is to have a moment of perfect happiness. Apparently, the dude only ever found that in Buffy’s pussy, and that’s not happening again any time soon.

Faith, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped thinking about her own moment of perfect happiness. Sure, her soul is still attached, but fucking Buffy? She can see how it would be enough to dislodge one’s immortal essence.

“Will you do my back?”

She looks over to see Buffy extending a tube of sunscreen with an expectant look on her face. “Sure,” Faith says, taking the tube. She scoots closer on the blanket, squirting a little sunscreen into her palm as she goes.

Buffy’s hair is up in a loose bun, but some shorter strands have escaped against her nape. Faith carefully brushes these aside, then starts with the back of Buffy’s neck, making sure she rubs the cream in evenly. Working her way over Buffy’s shoulders, she moves inward. She adjusts the halter strap of her bathing suit without thought, but for some reason the strap across Buffy’s back is a bit more daunting. Faith hesitates a moment, thinking about unclasping her bra just a few nights ago, then she slides her fingers under the band, making sure the sunscreen is rubbed in sufficiently.

This isn’t doing much to stop her thoughts from drifting back to the last time they were this close. Her hands frame Buffy’s hips as she moves lower, making sure no skin remains unprotected. Under her touch, lithe muscles stretch and tense. Is she thinking about it too?

As she reaches the final bit of exposed skin, low on Buffy’s back, Faith lets her thumb dip under the waist of Buffy’s bikini bottoms. Just making sure she won’t get burned if they shift, she tells herself, even as she’s thinking about Buffy’s cute little ass, just the tiniest bit further away.

“Want me to do you?” Buffy asks, and Faith thinks, yes, please.

“Sure,” she says instead, withdrawing her hands and shifting back to her own side of the blanket. She lies down on her stomach, telling herself it’s a better position to have sunscreen applied. It’s definitely not because her nipples are standing at attention and hoping to remake Buffy’s acquaintance.

She rests her forehead on her arms, pillowing them beneath her head and listening to Buffy move behind her.

The first touch of cold sunscreen makes her flinch, and Buffy says, “Sorry.” Warm palms spread the cream across the skin of her back, quickly soothing the too cold sensation. Buffy’s knee presses into Faith’s thigh as she works. It takes a little longer than feels strictly necessary, but Faith isn’t going to complain about Buffy touching her more than she needs to.

“So where were you when you got bit?” Buffy asks, as she sits back.

Her voice sounds a little high, and Faith grins to herself from within the safe confines of her folded arms. “They like the rocks down there.” She gestures toward their right, where the sandstone cliffs crumble into rocks that can be crossed by more adventurous beachgoers. “Fast little fuckers.”

Buffy makes a eugh sound. “Fast and ugly.”

“Well,” Faith says, “they are demons. They don’t usually look like kittens.”

“Speaking of demons,” Buffy says, “guess who’s back in town?”

Why does everyone wanna come back to this town? Faith peeks over her arm to find Buffy settling on her stomach in a mirror of her position. “It’s not the freaking Codgers again, is it?” She shivers. “They really creeped me out.”

“Oh come on,” Buffy laughs, “they weren’t that bad. And Giles swears they’re peaceful.”

Faith thinks back to the demon couple that had accidentally crossed paths with her at the motel. Dressed like octogenarians but recognizable due to their slightly less than human facial features (and the way her senses immediately began screaming when they walked into the lobby), the duo had stayed two very long weeks at the motel. After consulting with Giles, she’d decided not to slay them, but they’d unfortunately taken to calling her for various requests for the duration of their stay. Each time would take longer and involve more long winded stories about their youths. Giles said they were peaceful, but Faith’s half convinced that they were draining her life force through sheer boredom. “Who’s back?”

“Anya,” Buffy says.

That throws Faith for a loop. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing her again. What’s she want?”

“Xander, apparently,” Buffy says dryly.

Faith snorts. Having had exactly one go-round with Xander, she’s not sure why anyone would be begging for seconds, but hey, to each her own. “This week’s just full of old friends.”

“Yep.”

Buffy’s quiet after that, and Faith weighs her options for a few minutes before she continues that line of conversation. “So, you, uh, didn’t wanna go with Oz—drop the ring off yourself?”

It’s risky; historically conversations about Angel don’t go well for the two of them. She can still remember the sting of learning that Buffy’s ex was back from the dead and she’d been left in the dark about it.

This time though, Buffy answers easily. “I want him to have the ring, but seeing him… It’s not going to lead anywhere good.”

Faith doesn’t disagree with that.

“He’s got his life; I’ve got mine,” Buffy adds. “And that’s good.”

“Sure,” Faith says mildly.

After a moment, Buffy says, “This is going to sound bad.”

Interest piqued, Faith rolls onto her side so she can see Buffy better. “Shoot.”

Buffy stays on her stomach, but props herself on her elbows. Looking at the ocean, she says, “When Angel told me he was leaving, I was totally crushed, but now that he’s been gone a few months, it’s like”—she pauses, searching for the right words—“like I’m relieved, kind of. Not that I didn’t love him! I did, but I guess it just feels like—I don’t have this weight on my shoulders anymore.” Buffy lifts a handful of sand, letting it slip through her fingers. “I don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be with him, or worry about us holding each other back, or whatever.” She steals a glance at Faith.

“Doesn’t sound bad,” Faith says.

“Really?”

Faith shrugs a little uncomfortably. She’s not exactly qualified to talk on this subject, but she tries anyway. “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean it’s good for you. You gotta take care of yourself, B, and I don’t think you should feel guilty about doing that.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Buffy says, sounding a little curious.

After hesitating a second, Faith says, “Not the same kind of experience.” Buffy’s still looking at her, expecting more of a response. Faith says, “My mom was a mess. I took care of her more than she ever took care of me, and once she was gone… it killed me, but it was like I could finally stop hoping she’d—” Her throat feels tight, so Faith stops there, trusting Buffy’s gotten the gist.

Buffy says, “I’m sorry.”

The sympathy is plain in her face, and Faith nods tightly before she looks away. “Toss me that sunscreen?”

She takes her time applying the sunblock to the front of her body, mostly in hopes that Buffy won’t ask any follow up questions. When she’s done, she says, “Think I’m gonna get in the water.”

“I’ll go with.”

Having Buffy with her slows down the submersion process significantly. Faith’s more of a ‘jump in and get it over with’ girl, but Buffy enters the ocean slowly. She whines about the cold most of the way in, but eventually they stand side by side, the ocean lapping around their ribs. The tide is beginning to go out, and the waves are calm and leisurely. Faith swims with each, kicking to keep her head above water, enjoying the repetition of it. This isn’t the ocean she grew up beside, and the waves here seem bigger than the ones back home somehow, but it still gives her that same feeling: weightless and cosmically small. She relaxes, no responsibilities at the moment other than to meet each wave as it comes. Beside her, Buffy looks equally content.

That lasts until Faith dives under the next wave, grabbing Buffy’s waist and pulling her under too.

Buffy comes up sputtering and glowering, her hair plastered to her head.

Faith grins, fully aware that the retaliation will be swift.

Sure enough, Buffy goes back under, and a quick foot knocks into Faith’s knees from behind. They grapple, alternatively coming up for air and wrestling under water. It’s fun—kind of like being a kid again—or really slow sparring—but it does have some unexpected side effects. Like Buffy holding on with her legs when Faith tries to lift her and fling her into the oncoming waves.

Buffy’s legs around her waist, bare skin against bare skin other than her skimpy bikini bottoms, send Faith’s blood rushing in a decidedly southward direction. She tries to push Buffy off, but can’t get enough leverage in the water.

Meanwhile, Buffy’s attempting to shove her head under the surface. This has the unanticipated side effect of Faith’s chin being basically in Buffy’s tits. Seeing no way to extract herself from this, Faith closes her arms around Buffy and goes under.

When Buffy lets go, Faith’s more than a little tempted to grab her again.

They come up separately. Buffy’s grinning as she reaches up to release her hair from the waterlogged bun it’s still tied in. “Well played.”

“Truce?” Faith offers.

Buffy thinks about that, dipping her head backwards to shake her hair out. “Maybe if you give me a piggyback ride back to shore.”

“You tried to drown me, and I’m supposed to carry you?”

Buffy shrugs, still smiling.

“Fine,” Faith says. “You ready to go in now?”

“Soon,” Buffy says, lying back in the water. Her pink toed feet poke through the surface as she floats.

In this position, Buffy can’t see her, so Faith watches her openly. The water laps across the  pebbled, pale skin of her belly. Above the surface, her nipples react to the temperature change, tightening under the triangles of her bikini top. Faith thinks about Buffy’s tits in her hands and spreads her legs a little wider, hoping the water will cool her down.

“So,” Faith says at length, because it’s weird that they haven’t acknowledged what happened between them, like, at all, and her gaze has drifted to the strong muscles of Buffy’s thighs, so this seems like as good an opportunity to bring it up as any, “did it help?”

Buffy’s arms form lazy circles in the water. “Did what—oh.” It takes her another moment to answer as she resituates herself  so she’s standing on the sand again. “I’m not sure,” she says, once she’s right side up.

How is Faith supposed to interpret that? “Oh.”

“No,” Buffy says quickly, reaching over and finding Faith’s arm. Her skin is warm through the cool water. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She squeezes Faith’s wrist. “It was”—Buffy’s eyes meets hers—“kind of amazing. I’m just not sure what it means, umm, sexuality-wise.”

“You don’t have to be,” Faith says, her pride soothed a little bit. She shoots Buffy a sly look. “Amazing?”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy releases her arm. “Shut up.”

Truth be told, Faith had kind of an amazing time herself, but she’s not going to say exactly that. Instead she says, “Spike’s an asshole, you know?”

The next wave is a little one and they hop it together. “Well, he’s a vamp, so…” Buffy says.

“Yeah, but I heard what he was saying to you,” Faith adds. “Just—you should know he’s wrong. Nobody would kick you out of bed, B, trust me.” She lets that dangle for a second, internally cringing. Jesus, Faith, sound more desperate. Keep this up and she’s going to think you’re hitting on her.

Which wouldn’t be wrong, strictly speaking. Faith definitely wouldn’t say no to another go. Before she can think of a way to walk her statement back a little, Buffy gives her a quick look, her cheeks already going pink. “Actually I was thinking about that.”

Faith barely manages to keep her head above water as a wave almost takes her out. “Which part?” She asks, when she’s no longer in immediate danger of drowning.

“Maybe,” Buffy begins hesitantly, “if you want—we could try, like, a friends with benefits thing?”

Faith blinks at her, caught off guard.

Rushing on, Buffy says, “Because it seemed like we both had a good time, and I’m not seeing anybody; you’re not seeing anybody.” She stops suddenly, frowning. “Oh God, I never even asked. You’re not seeing anybody, right?”

Faith shakes her head.

“Good!” Buffy says, looking relieved. “So we could, uh, keep having fun together. And um, rules! We could set some ground rules—”

Buffy continues, easily jumping another wave as she talks. Faith, meanwhile, is trying to recover from the knowledge that Buffy wants to fuck her on the regular. She doesn’t jump quite as high and gets saltwater in her mouth.

“I read a bunch of stuff online about it—”

She hadn’t really considered the idea that Buffy might be interested in hooking up again, let alone suggest an ongoing arrangement. This could be branching into dangerous territory, but on the other hand, she gets to keep sleeping with Buffy, no strings attached?

“—probably should have gotten tested before I even asked you because apparently that’s like rule #1—”

Her brain is already racing forward, thinking about grabbing Buffy and hauling her back to the beach, pulling her suit bottoms off, and getting her to make all those pretty noises again. There’s like zero downsides to this proposition.

“—but we could talk about it and decide what would work for us.” Buffy stops talking, looking at Faith owlishly. There’s a little wrinkle between her eyebrows that Faith knows means that she’s nervous.

Faith asks, “So, when would these benefits start?”

Relief flashes across Buffy’s face before it splits into a grin. “You want to? I mean, I know I kind of sprung this on you. Again.”

“I want to,” Faith says firmly. Her brain catches up to most of what Buffy’s been saying. “And I just got tested like two weeks ago. Results are at home. You can have ‘em.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, seeming a little flustered. “Well, do you want me to get mine before we…?”

“I’m not that worried about it,” Faith says. She tries to phrase it as nicely as possible when she asks, “It was just the one time before, right?”

Buffy deflates a little before she nods.

“Okay,” Faith says, kicking a little closer to her. “Back to my question then.”

She looks confused for a second, then Buffy catches up. “The benefit start date is negotiable,” she says, smiling.

Taking a discreet glance back at the beach, Faith sees that it’s still empty. “Let’s go in.” Without waiting for a response, she snags the side of Buffy’s bikini bottoms and begins towing her closer.

Buffy happily climbs on Faith’s back, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Hooking her hands under Buffy’s knees, Faith starts back toward the shore. She takes a diagonal route, heading for a spot further down the beach.

When the water is below their hips, Buffy slides back to her feet. “Where are we going?”

“Up here.” Faith inclines her head.

She keeps a careful eye out for any remaining Tohori hatchlings as they walk through the surf, but fortunately, Buffy's intel seems to have been correct. They skirt the rocky outcropping the Tohori are particularly fond of, emerging on the opposite side. Ahead of them, the outline of a saltwater pool carved into the rock is visible in the low tide.

“Wow,” Buffy says, when she catches sight of it. “I didn’t know this was here.”

“Found it last time I was here,” Faith says. “Looks like it was man made. Not too deep at low tide.” Once they’ve slipped into the pool, tepid water up to their chests, Faith leans her back against the smooth stone side. From here, she’ll be able to see anyone coming toward them. “C’mere,” she says.

Buffy does as she’s bid, coming to a stop right in front of Faith.

Sliding one hand onto her waist, Faith looks into her face. “So, just so I’m clear…”

“Yeah?” Buffy shifts closer, her knee grazing Faith’s.

Her eyes are wide, pulse fluttering in her throat rabbit quick. Faith’s not unfamiliar with that particular look—she’s seen it on enough women and even some men—heavy-lidded and hopeful that they can have her again. It usually promises she can have anything she wants, there for the taking. She rarely goes for it. Sex is most interesting to her when it’s novel, but this… Faith leaves her hanging for an extra few seconds, just so she can savor the feeling of having Buffy fucking Summers of all people stare at her like this.

She’s so goddamned beautiful.

Faith asks, “Is fucking you in this pool one of the allowed benefits between friends?”

That startles a laugh from Buffy before she bites her lip and casts a look over her shoulder. “What if someone sees us?”

“The beach is deserted,” Faith says. “Plus we’ll hear anyone coming before they can see us.”

Buffy looks back at her, her eyes flicking to Faith’s mouth.

“I’ll protect your modesty,” Faith says, toying with the side of Buffy’s suit bottoms. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, a little pink, “that could be one of the allowed benefits.”

“Good,” Faith says, then they’re kissing.

Buffy seems to be as eager as Faith is, if the way she presses into her arms is any indication. Her hand is inside Faith’s bikini top almost immediately, and Faith huffs a laugh against her mouth.

“What?” Buffy asks, lightly skimming her fingertips over Faith’s nipple.

“You’re just really into my tits,” Faith teases.

Buffy tugs, making her gasp. “You like it.”

That she does. Bracing her foot against the wall behind her, Faith bends her knee, leaving her thigh available. She drags Buffy where she wants her, pulling her knee to Faith’s hip so she’s straddling Faith’s thigh.

The heat from between Buffy’s legs is obvious even in the water, and Faith allows herself to feel a little bit smug about it, knowing the two of them playing around in the waves got to Buffy as much as it did her.

“This was a great idea,” Faith says, more breathless than she should be just from kissing. She presses her leg harder between Buffy’s.

Buffy’s fingers weave into her wet hair. “Really great.”

Their bathing suits offer little resistance between them, and Faith’s hands roam Buffy’s back, her hips, her sides. Knowing she gets to touch Buffy like this, not just now but later too, has her feeling a little giddy. “Probably wasn’t fair to ask me when you’re wearing this,” she says, tugging at the string tie of Buffy’s top. “How would I say no?”

“You’re one to talk,” Buffy says, pinching Faith’s nipple lightly. She’s rocking her hips a little, not getting much traction in the water, so Faith palms her ass, pulling Buffy tighter against her.

“Better?” She asks, mouth still on Buffy’s.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says. As if she was waiting for Faith’s permission, she shifts, moving with more purpose, trying to find a good angle against her leg. She holds Faith’s shoulder with one hand, her opposite hand still in Faith’s top.

Faith keeps a firm grip on Buffy’s ass as she rocks. She can tell when she manages to find the right position by the way Buffy stiffens slightly. A little sound escapes her throat, lost between their mouths, but it makes Faith’s cunt clench all the same.

Buffy’s movements become more controlled, creating small waves around them in the pool. Her knee presses between Faith’s legs, just barely brushing against her each time she humps Faith’s thigh. Between that and the way Buffy’s thumbing her nipple, it’s a little bit torturous, but Faith’s not going to complain. Not when Buffy’s obviously enjoying herself so much.

Breaking the kiss, Faith brings her mouth to Buffy’s neck, licking sea salt from her skin. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when she led Buffy to the pool—her plan involved her hand in Buffy’s bikini bottoms for starters—but if this works for Buffy, it works for her. There’s something undeniably sexy about her using Faith’s leg any way she wants.

She squeezes Buffy’s ass harder, letting her free hand thread into her damp hair. When she wraps the length of it around her hand, pulling it just a little, Buffy whimpers.

Faith sucks at Buffy’s neck, letting her teeth dig in lightly, and Buffy groans, grinding herself down harder. The material of her bathing suit is rough against Faith’s leg, and she’s probably going to have some kind of friction burn with the way Buffy’s moving, but she doesn’t mind at all.

“Oh, God,” Buffy whispers, her breath hitching. Her fingers dig into Faith’s shoulder, and she changes direction, rubbing in circles against Faith’s thigh.

Faith’s fingers itch to touch her, to work their way into her cunt and fuck her properly. She settles for shoving her hand down the back of Buffy’s bikini so she can at least feel her skin without the fabric in the way. She lets her mouth drift lower, kissing Buffy’s shoulder.

Panting now, Buffy bows her head, hips working hard and fast as she gets herself off. Her palm presses flat against Faith’s breast, no longer coordinated enough to toy with her. Faith squeezes the back of her neck through her hair, and Buffy’s ensuing moan is mostly smothered into Faith’s shoulder.

Still, she hears quite clearly the whispered little “Faith!” that Buffy lets out just before she stiffens and her legs clamp closed around Faith’s.

It’s all Faith can do to keep still and let Buffy slowly come to a halt against her. Her pussy aches, desperate for attention by now. Buffy calling her name as she came definitely did not help ease the tension.

As Buffy softens her grip on Faith, relaxing slightly, Faith kisses her chin and says, “I need to move.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, shifting so Faith can lower her leg. “You okay?”

“Uh huh,” Faith says. Closing her legs doesn’t make the ache any better. She snakes one hand between them, shoving it inside her bathing suit and finding her clit.

The relief is enough to make her groan.

Hands find her tits again, and Faith looks up to find Buffy watching her hand moving through the clear water, licking her lips. She doesn’t look particularly put out by this turn of events.

Okay, so Buffy might be into a bit of voyeurism. Faith can work with that. She leans her head against the lip of the pool, hooking her leg around Buffy’s waist so she can angle her hips up. That brings her lower body closer to the surface, giving Buffy a better view.

Buffy looks up, catching her eye and giving Faith a smile that makes her stomach clench. Then she leans forward, her stomach pressing into the back of Faith’s hand, and pulls the top of her bathing suit aside. Her mouth surrounds one nipple, hot after the cool water, tongue flicking it teasingly.

“Fuck,” Faith grunts, circling her clit more quickly. Her other hand finds the back of Buffy’s head.

One of Buffy’s arms circles her waist, holding Faith steady as she switches sides, finding the hard point of Faith’s other nipple and sucking at it through the fabric of her suit. It’s like a lightning bolt of heat straight from her mouth to Faith’s cunt, all tight and needy.

Buffy’s teeth dig in slightly, and that does it. Faith’s body contracts, hips thrusting upward against her hand as she comes.

She slumps, her leg slipping off Buffy’s waist, only Buffy’s arm around her holding her up. Gently, Buffy adjusts Faith’s suit so she’s fully covered again.

When she manages to get her breathing somewhat under control, Faith finds the floor with her feet so she’s standing of her own volition. Just then, they both hear voices approaching from the opposite side of the rocks.

Buffy kisses her, soft and lingering, before she releases Faith and moves to lean against the wall of the pool beside her. They share a secret smile.

Faith thinks this friends with benefits thing is going to work out just fine.

Chapter Five

Panting, Buffy stares down at the disintegrating corpse of the Lilliad demon she’s spent the better part of the night following. Its waxy face is slowly caving in on itself, and the whole carcass has begun to emit a pretty putrid odor. A few feet away, the grave the demon had been attempting to rob remains disturbed, dirt piled haphazardly around the edges, grass torn back. According to Giles, Lilliad demons make a mean bone broth, but unlike the nice folks at the grocery store, they like to make theirs with the bones of human children.

Buffy could almost forgive that—she’s met enough demons that like to eat human children so this is almost tame in comparison—but apparently Lilliad broth, once consumed, has the ability to enhance most demonic powers. She’s got enough problems to manage without souped-up demons coming for her, especially this week when she’s patrolling mostly solo.

Faith’s covering third shift at the motel all week, leaving Buffy to her own devices. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have minded that, but they’ve gotten into the habit of patrolling together now. It’s kind of lonely, being out here on her own. Plus now there’s zero chance of any post-patrol hangouts, and Buffy could really use one of those right about now. Her pulse is still thundering from the fight the Lilliad put up, her knuckles red and smarting from the number of hits it took to put the ugly thing down. She’s keyed up, breeze playing through her hair, the cool night air against her heated skin leaving goosebumps all over her. As she starts the walk home, she’s very aware of the seam of her pants, pressing just the slightest bit against her with each step.

If Faith were here, she’d congratulate Buffy on her awesome victory, then maybe take her home and reward her slaying prowess by sliding her knee between Buffy’s thighs. Instead, she’s headed back to her empty room, and that’s fine. That’s totally fine. It’s not like they have to spend every night together.

Still, letting herself into her room, Buffy’s definitely feeling antsy. She sighs, peeling off her jacket and tossing it on her chair. Maybe she’ll raid the fridge. She’s pretty sure she’s got some yogurt in there. Kicking off her shoes, she goes to her dresser and unearths a sleep shirt and pajama pants. She sets them down on top so she can strip her patrol clothes off: socks and then pants, then her t-shirt. The release of her bra clasp is a welcome one, and her nipples react to the change in temperature and the pull of fabric sliding away from them.

As she reaches for her pajamas again, Buffy pauses and looks thoughtfully at her bed. She eyes the carefully stacked pillows, two she sleeps on and one that’s more decorative. With Willow sleeping out tonight, she has the place to herself… Coming to a decision, she leaves her pajamas behind and crosses to her bed. She plucks the last pillow from the stack, savoring the feel of the satiny pillow case for a second before she sets it down in the center of her bed. Buffy divests herself of her panties, wincing slightly at the feel of the fabric pulling away from her sticky body. The underwear gets tossed into her laundry basket, then she’s climbing onto the bed, setting her knees on either side of the pillow.

Experience has taught her that folding it in half works best, so she does that before she sinks down. The pressure wedged between her spread legs is a familiar relief. She’s always found this to be the easiest way to get herself off, for as long as she can remember doing it, although the objects have varied over the years: a big teddy bear, the long body pillow on her bed at home, even the corner of her mattress in a pinch. It’s easier to imagine she’s not by herself when she’s not actually touching herself. The rolled pillow beneath her can substitute for someone else if she concentrates hard enough. Luckily, she’s got a lot of scenarios to run with after the last few weeks.

Buffy closes her eyes, enjoying the swipe of the silky fabric against her skin with the first tentative motions of her hips. It’s not quite firm enough to be Faith’s leg, but she’s got a good imagination and several nights with Faith to draw inspiration from, and she works herself into a rhythm using that skill.

Faith’s underneath her, full lip between her teeth as she watches Buffy move. “That feel good?”

Buffy opens her legs a little wider, her hands clenched in the bed spread.

“You can go a little harder,” Faith says, her hands on Buffy’s hips.

Buffy grinds against the pillow. It’s becoming slick under her already.

“Mmm, that’s it, baby,” Faith encourages, licking her lips. “Just like that.”

Buffy’s eyes open in alarm, her movements momentarily faltering. Baby? Where the hell did that come from?

Oh, nevermind—

She brings one hand to her chest while she resumes rocking her hips, cupping her breast and squeezing.

“Your boobs are so—”

Okay, no, that doesn’t sound like Faith at all. Damn it. Buffy closes her eyes again, taking more time to set the scene.

“Your tits are so pretty,” Faith groans. “Wish I could get my mouth on ‘em.” She pinches Buffy’s nipple.

That’s more like it. Buffy renews her efforts, digging her toes into the sheets to give herself more leverage. Her legs are starting to get pleasantly tingly.

“Harder,” Faith says again.

Spreading her legs wider still, Buffy leans forward, letting the seam of the pillow find her clit.

“Mmm, yeah, there’s my girl.”

A soft knock sounds at the door and Buffy snaps upright, looking over her shoulder as she scrambles to get under the covers. It takes a moment huddled under the blanket, her heart pounding out of control, for her to realize that the noise wasn’t Willow about to enter the room.

There’s another knock.

Trying to get her racing heart under control, Buffy slips out of bed, quickly going to her closet and grabbing her robe. She pulls it on, knotting the belt tightly before she goes to the door and unlatches it.

When she opens it a crack, Buffy blinks in surprise. “Faith.”

Faith stands on the other side, looking a little disheveled. She’s probably slayed something on her way here, but it has the unexpected effect of making her look not unlike the image Buffy was fantasizing about just a minute ago. “Hey,” Faith says, keeping her voice low in the darkened hallway, “sorry, did I wake you up?”

Buffy shakes her head, belatedly realizing that she probably should have gone with that cover story.

“No?” Faith asks, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. She looks at Buffy a little closer, and Buffy can imagine what she’s seeing: Buffy caught off guard, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, the robe she’s clutching around her otherwise naked body, the flush she can feel in her face.

Buffy’s still thinking that she might be able to play it off somehow, but then Faith’s nostrils flare slightly and her brow relaxes. “Ah,” she says, one of her dimples making a brief appearance.

It occurs to her then that Faith’s senses are just as keen as hers, and Buffy can definitely tell she smells like she’s been… active. Oh, God.

“I, uh, can go,” Faith offers, hiking her thumb over her shoulder.

“No,” Buffy says. She pulls the door open the rest of the way, gesturing for Faith to come inside.

Closing the door behind them, she looks at the rest of the room quickly. Her covers are pulled up, so it’s not immediately obvious that there’s a pillow in the middle of her bed. Although it does look lumpy. “What’s up?” She asks, deliberately taking a seat at the end of her bed and pulling the opening of her robe together more tightly. “I thought you were working overnight.”

“I was,” Faith says, standing beside her desk, “but the motel is dead by now anyway. Figured the office could close up until Paul gets in at 7.” Seeing Buffy’s frown, she adds, “Nothing’s wrong. I just figured with Red out, maybe you’d be up for some company.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, glancing down at her robe. “I was—”

“I know,” Faith cuts in. The smirk on her face makes Buffy bristle slightly, but then she says, “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

Buffy’s brain is having a hard enough time switching gears from ‘enjoying solo time’ to ‘carrying on a conversation,’ and this just grinds the whole operation to a halt. “Huh?” She asks, before it clicks. “You want to watch?”

Looking extremely entertained by the shock on Buffy’s face, Faith nods. “Watch,” she says, “or provide assistance. Whatever you want.”

Buffy’s response is an undignified squeak.

Smothering a smile, Faith moves away from the desk. She nudges Buffy’s thigh with her knee, taking a seat beside her. “You can say no,” she says. “Just an idea.”

It takes Buffy another few seconds to get her thoughts in order. The idea of Faith finding out exactly what she was doing is slightly mortifying, but she can’t say she’s not intrigued by Faith’s offer. Turning toward her, she says, “You can stay.”

Faith grins before she leans in to kiss her. Her hands find the belt of Buffy’s robe quickly.

“Hey,” Buffy protests, swatting them away. “I’m not going to be the only one naked here.”

Shrugging, Faith leans down and unlaces her boots. She kicks them off before she gets to her feet. Her clothing is removed and tossed toward Willow’s bed with Faith’s customary complete lack of self-consciousness, until she’s standing naked at the foot of Buffy’s bed. She holds her hand out expectantly.

When Buffy accepts it, Faith pulls her to her feet and goes for the tie on her robe. “You happy now, Princess?” She teases lightly.

Buffy nods, and Faith unties the belt. The robe parts, leaving plenty of room for Faith to get her hands inside and onto Buffy’s hips.

The feeling of Faith’s hands on her bare skin resets Buffy’s body’s expectations. Her hesitation with this plan fades away, replaced by the heat in her belly that Faith seems to create so easily. The robe slides from her shoulders, making way for Faith’s mouth to find her neck, and Buffy lets it fall to the ground, pooling around their feet.

She gets distracted for a few moments as Faith pulls her close, their bodies flush together. They’ve slept together several times now, and Faith’s apparently a quick study. Her tongue finds the place on Buffy’s neck, just below her ear, that makes her knees go a little weak, circling it before nipping lightly.

Buffy’s just starting to get a hand between them when Faith says, “Uh uh.” She catches Buffy’s hand and squeezes. “You’re supposed to be touching yourself, not me.”

Pouting, Buffy says, “You’re supposed to be providing assistance.”

“And I will,” Faith promises. She gives Buffy’s ass a light smack. “On the bed.”

It’s a little nerve wracking, turning back to the bed and pulling the covers down. Before she can talk herself out of it, Buffy climbs back over the pillow, resituating it so that it’s going to be firm enough for her. She glances at Faith and sees surprise on her face.

Is Faith going to think this is weird?

Buffy begins to tentatively roll her hips, relieved to see Faith’s surprise quickly morph into interest. She flushes, still feeling a little awkward, but Faith comes closer, fingers trailing over Buffy’s shoulder as she joins her on the bed.

There’s rustling behind her, and then Faith’s plastered against her back. Her arms encircle Buffy’s waist loosely, hands skimming across her torso. “This okay?” She asks, being careful not to impede Buffy’s movements.

“Uh huh.” Buffy shifts to be closer to her, her back leaning against Faith’s chest and her hips rocking forward. She grips the front of the pillow, pulling it taut between her legs so she’s still getting plenty of friction.

Faith cups Buffy’s breasts, thumbing her nipples, and murmurs low in her ear, “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

Her voice makes Buffy shiver and grind herself down a little harder against the soft fabric. Her hand finds Faith’s thigh for balance, and her nails dig in slightly.

“Never thought I’d be jealous of a pillow, God damn,” Faith adds, and Buffy huffs out a laugh.

Faith’s hand slides down her stomach, fingertips just brushing her mons. Buffy knows she’s not going to interrupt what she’s doing, but the anticipation is still there. Her chest feels a little tight thinking about Faith’s hand sliding between her legs and finding her clit.

Pressure builds between her hips, the pillowcase wet and messy as she methodically rolls against it. Faith’s nosing at the side of her neck, kissing her shoulder, and Buffy’s close but not quite there. She increases her tempo, frustrated, but it doesn’t seem to help.

“Gotta move,” she says.

Faith lets her loose, staying behind her as Buffy resituates.

Shifting, Buffy leans her weight forward, so her breasts are brushing the soft pillowcase. She spreads her legs wider, moving the pillow so the corner is pressed firmly against her aching slit. Starting to rock, she hears Faith make an approving mmm sound behind her.

The edge is hitting where she wants it now, rougher and harder than the rest of the pillow as she drags her clit against it. Faith’s hands are warm against her back, stroking as she moves.

Each time she slides backward, the cool air hits the superheated skin between her legs.

“Jesus,” Faith mutters, sounding a little strangled.

She can imagine what Faith’s seeing, Buffy’s movements more accurately described as humping now, her butt in the air, her pussy parting open every time she shoves herself down against the pillow. Her suspicions are born out when Faith’s hands grip the back of her thighs, and her thumbs gently frame Buffy’s labia, spreading them further to give herself a better view.

She should be embarrassed by this; she expected she would be, but the idea of Faith watching her actually has a much different effect. She feels sexy, knowing Faith’s eyes are on her, thinking about Faith getting turned on by her. She feels powerful.

Buffy rotates her hips a little, giving Faith more of a show, and is rewarded with a groan from behind her. Her nipples brush across the satin pillowcase, stiff and sensitive, and Buffy bites back a moan.

She’s sweating now from her efforts. Behind her, Faith’s breathing hard, her fingers digging into Buffy’s thighs. Her muscles are starting to tighten, pleasure hot and blooming in her belly.

She feels Faith’s hair brush her back, then lips against her skin. Faith delivers a wet, biting kiss to Buffy’s left ass cheek before she leans back again.

Buffy’s breath stutters out, a whimper against the bed. She rubs herself frantically against the seam, delicious tension building and then breaking inside her.

Her whole body is on fire with it, her hands clawing the blankets, her toes digging into the bed. Faith’s gripping her legs for dear life, panting along with her, until Buffy finally collapses, completely spent, face down on the bed.

Faith’s touch softens, her hand gently stroking Buffy’s thigh, then her butt, then on to her back. The mattress shifts as Faith lies down beside her, the two of them smushed together in Buffy’s single bed.

When her heart is no longer thudding out of control and she’s mostly caught her breath, she opens her eyes to find Faith facing her, her mouth curved into a hint of a smile.

“You back among the living?” Faith asks, stroking Buffy’s hip.

“Shut up,” Buffy says, with absolutely no heat.

That makes Faith grin. “Just saying that looked pretty intense.” Her teeth worry her lip a little. “Pretty hot too.”

“Yeah?” Buffy asks, pleased.

“Uh huh.”

“So you liked watching me,” Buffy says. Her hand finds Faith’s thigh. “How much?”

Faith takes her hand, guiding it a little lower.

“About that much,” she says breathlessly, when Buffy’s hand finds its way into the abundant wetness between her thighs. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

“Feels like a lot,” Buffy says smugly.

“A lot a lot,” Faith says.

“And what should we do about that?” Buffy teases, gliding her fingertips lightly down Faith’s slit. She keeps her touch soft, and Faith’s hips jerk toward her.

“I think you should make me come,” Faith says, her hand reflexively tightening around Buffy’s wrist as Buffy presses her fingers down a little harder. “At least like four times.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Buffy says.

It ends up being twice, which Buffy still thinks is more than fair. Afterward, they lie shoulder to shoulder across her bed, the blankets hastily pulled over them.

Buffy’s skin is buzzing pleasantly, her whole body relaxed. Her eyes are closed, enjoying the warmth of Faith’s body pressed against her side.

Faith asks, “What were you thinking about? Before I got here?”

Her eyes spring open again. She wasn’t expecting Faith to ask that. She could lie. Maybe Faith will think it’s weird for Buffy to be thinking about her while she’s getting herself off. On the other hand, she seemed to find it pretty hot watching, so maybe she won’t. They’ve been honest with each other thus far…

“Was it me?” Faith asks.

Okay, now Buffy can’t really avoid telling her. She nods.

“Knew it,” Faith says, grinning broadly.

Buffy groans, rolling toward her and pushing her face into Faith’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Faith says, and Buffy can tell just from her tone that she’s still smiling. “I already knew I was great in bed. Of course you’d—”

“Ughhhhh.”

Faith laughs. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she says after a minute. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about you.”

Surprised, Buffy glances back up. “You have?”

“Yeah,” Faith says easily, giving her a look like she thinks Buffy’s being dumb. “Of course.” She shifts, extending her arm for Buffy to snuggle in.

Buffy hadn’t thought it was that obvious. A small, pleased smile takes up residence on her face, and she moves into Faith’s open arm, head on her shoulder. Faith thinks about her, not any of the probably more experienced girls she’s been with before.

“Definitely gonna have some new stuff to think about now,” Faith adds.

Buffy goes for a glare, but the smirk on Faith’s face makes her laugh instead. Faith laughs too, squeezing Buffy against her as they dissolve into what can only be described as giggling. By the time they manage to calm down, Buffy’s forgotten to be embarrassed.

XXXXX

Flipping absently through last month’s Vogue, Faith periodically checks the computer screen in front of her. It’s closing in on 1AM, and she knows from experience that Buffy’s usually home around then. She has very few people in her buddy list, so it’s easy to find Buffy’s screen name at a glance. Unfortunately, xxIcePrincess1681xx still has her away message up.

Turning back to Vogue, Faith is definitely not worried. Buffy can take care of herself. There’s nothing to be concerned about, just because Buffy hasn’t IM’d her yet. Maybe she’s even home already and just unwinding. That brings up memories of last night, and Buffy’s particular way of letting off steam after patrol. Fuck that was hot. She’d had Buffy pegged as more of a ‘hand down her pants, make it as quick as possible’ type. Faith was not expecting to witness Buffy buck naked and going to town against a pillow. That memory’s gonna stick for a while.

She glances back at the computer. 1:02 AM and Buffy’s still idle.

Setting the magazine aside, she clicks Buffy’s name and opens an IM window between them, typing quickly.

MoonBaby617: hey, how was patrol?

The response is rote and instantaneous:

xxIcePrincess1681xx: …keeping versed and on my feet…

It’s Buffy’s most recent code phrase to indicate she’s on patrol (and has the unfortunate habit of getting that stupid Len song stuck in Faith’s head every time). Faith stares at the screen a minute longer, willing Buffy to return and respond.

The bell over the lobby door rings merrily. Preemptively annoyed, Faith minimizes the IM and looks up, prepared to deal with whatever crisis has brought someone to the lobby at this time of night.

Buffy stands just inside the door, holding a large bag emblazoned with the Happy Burger logo. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Faith says, relieved to see her. She gets up, coming around the desk. “What are you doing here?”

“Figured you’d be hungry,” she says, handing over the bag.

Faith’s starving actually. She’s pulling a double today and hasn’t eaten since around dinner time. “You’re the best,” she says with complete sincerity, opening the bag and peering inside.

“I know,” Buffy says, batting her eyelashes. “One of those burgers is for me though. Don’t get too excited.”

Motioning for Buffy to follow her, Faith leads the way through the doorway behind the front desk into the manager’s office. Inside, she sets the bag on the desk and pulls the spare chair closer so they can eat together. Plucking a burger from the bag, Faith sets to unwrapping it. She manages to stifle the dramatic moan she wants to let out at the first bite. There’s nothing better than Happy Burger for the post-patrol munchies—or in her case, the mid-work munchies. “How was patrol?” She asks, once she’s mowed through half the burger.

“Didn’t really make it out,” Buffy says, digging in the bag for French fries. “Did I tell you Xander’s working at the pub by campus?”

Faith raises one eyebrow and shakes her head, stealing one of Buffy’s fries.

“I got a call from him just before I left. Someone spiked the beer and a bunch of guys turned into cavemen.”

Faith snorts. “College guys?”

“Yeah.”

“How could you tell?”

“They were slightly more mono-syllabic than normal,” Buffy says, swatting at her hand when Faith reaches for more fries. “You have your own!”

“Fine,” Faith huffs, reaching in the bag and pulling out a carton for herself. “So what’d you do with them?”

“Well, they set the bar on fire,” Buffy says with a sigh, “but we got everyone out, and the Neanderthals are currently being foiled by the wonders of the automobile.” She smiles, proud of herself. “I locked them in a minivan, and they couldn’t figure out how to get out.”

“This town is so deeply, deeply weird,” Faith says, with admittedly some affection.

“That’s our town slogan,” Buffy says. “‘Sunnydale California! We’re deeply, deeply weird!’”

“Could be worse.”

Buffy suggests, “Home of the Prune Festival.”

“Gonorrhea Capital of the World,” Faith tries, grinning when Buffy makes an ew face.

“How’s your night?” Buffy asks, apparently incapable of topping Faith’s last suggestion.

“Better now,” Faith says. She nudges Buffy’s ankle lightly with her foot. “Thanks.”

Buffy pushes back. “Sure.”

Making quick work of her fries, Faith successfully snags another few from Buffy’s carton, grinning beatifically when Buffy glowers in her direction. She chews them with gusto, just to be extra obnoxious.

Across from her, Buffy dusts off her hands and asks, “Was Boston as weird as Sunnydale?”

Snorting, Faith says, “Definitely not.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” Faith says. Not lately, she thinks. “You miss LA?’

“Nah,” Buffy says. “I used to.” She collects her trash and stows it back inside the bag. “Used to think I couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

She wasn’t shy about it either. Faith remembers walking in on a tense conversation between Buffy and the watchers—Buffy clutching her college acceptance letters, Wesley tut tutting like anyone cared about his opinion, and Giles looking equal parts proud and resigned. Faith could read between the lines easily. With her in Sunnydale, Buffy had a get-out-of-hellmouth free card. It left a bitter taste in her mouth at the time, and she never brought it up to Buffy. Maybe she should have.

“You still could,” Faith says now. “I’m not planning to jump ship any time soon.” She doesn’t say, but fuck, I’d miss you.

“Thank you,” Buffy says, giving her a small smile, “but I think this is where I belong. At least for now.” She looks at Faith. “So this deeply weird town finally feels like home for you?”

“I didn’t say all that,” Faith says with a shrug, “but I guess it grows on you.”

“I know what you mean,” Buffy says softly. Their eyes meet, and it starts to feel like they aren’t only talking about the town. Faith shifts, feeling wrong footed suddenly.

Before Faith can say anything else, they both hear the bells over the lobby door. “Faith, honey?” A gravelly voice calls from the desk.

Hopping up, Faith leaves the office. Dolly stands at the front desk, a cookie tin in her hands, and a wide smile on her mouth. Her face is bare of makeup, and she’s clad in a comfortable tracksuit and sandals.

“Hey, Ms. Dolly,” Faith says, leaning her elbows on the desk and casting an interested look at the cookie tin. “You good? Any problems tonight?”

Dolly shakes her head. “With my guardian angel just down the hall?” She asks with a smile. “They know better.”

“Good,” Faith says firmly. And it only took one fractured wrist and two men tossed out in their skivvies to get the point across.

Dolly pushes the cookie tin over to her. “Brought you a little something.”

“You’re too good to me,” Faith says, already cracking the tin open.

“Psshh.” Dolly waves at her dismissively.

Inside, a dozen impeccably rounded snickerdoodles greet her. 

“Do I smell cookies?”

Dolly’s gaze leaves Faith, moving to Buffy standing in the doorway.

“Uh, yeah,” Faith says. She hesitates a second before introducing them, unsure how Buffy will react. Faith’s told her about Dolly before, and Buffy hadn’t been rude or anything, but she had seemed a little surprised and uncomfortable with Dolly’s profession. “Buffy,” Faith says, turning slightly, “this is Ms. Dolly. Ms. Dolly, my friend Buffy.”

Dolly holds out a wrinkled hand, forcing Buffy to hurry forward to clasp it.

To Faith’s relief, Buffy smiles widely as she shakes Dolly’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, honey,” Dolly says kindly.

“I’ve heard rave reviews of your cookies.” Buffy gives the cookie tin a hopeful look as she comes to Faith’s side behind the desk.

Faith rolls her eyes before she pushes the tin toward her. “You can have one.”

“Faith,” Dolly admonishes, “share with your friend. I’ll make more.”

“Yeah, Faith,” Buffy says around a mouthful of snickerdoodle, “where are your manners?”

Looking positively delighted by the unexpected opportunity to gang up on Faith, Dolly shakes her head. “Raised in a barn, this one.”

“All right, all right” Faith says, grumpily. She closes the cookie tin and tucks it under the counter.

Dolly leans toward Buffy conspiratorially. “She’s actually really sweet when she thinks no one’s looking.”

“I know,” Buffy agrees.

Faith meets her eyes, and Buffy’s look is so warm that she feels her face flush. She cuts her eyes back to Dolly, only to find herself on the receiving end of a very shrewd look. “Thanks for the cookies,” she says quickly, ready to nip this whole thing in the bud. “You want me to walk you back to your door?”

Dolly shakes her head, a hint of a smile on her face. “I’ll be fine, honey. You have company; stay here.” She lets herself out the door with a farewell wave.

“She seems nice,” Buffy says.

“Yeah,” Faith says dryly, “she’s a real peach.”

“Smart too. She’s got your number.”

Faith rolls her eyes.

Snickering, Buffy says, “I should get back. Class in the morning.”

She’s a little bummed to see Buffy go, but Faith nods.

There’s a moment of hesitation as they stand behind the counter together.

Unbidden, the memory of them waking up together this morning comes to the forefront of Faith’s mind. She’d woken up around dawn, a warm and naked bedmate burrowed in her arms, already wanting Buffy again. Soft strokes of Faith’s fingers down Buffy’s back roused her slightly, enough so that when Faith rolled them both over, Buffy’s arms came around her. 

By the time the sun was fully risen, Buffy’s legs were bracketing her sides. Faith’s head was on her chest, listening to the frantic thumping of Buffy’s heart while she fucked her. Faith can still hear the sound of Buffy’s voice, sleep soft and thick, whispering Faith’s name while her cunt clenched hard and tight around Faith’s fingers. Afterward she’d straddled Buffy’s hips, grinding herself down until she was shaky, until Buffy slipped a hand between them and made Faith see stars. 

They fell back asleep, heavy limbs and sticky skin pressed together, until the sun was higher in the sky and Willow was due back soon. At the door, wearing last night’s clothes, Faith cupped Buffy’s cheeks and left her with a lingering kiss. 

Faith almost does it again now, almost leans in for a goodbye kiss before she catches herself. This isn’t like this morning. She shouldn’t be muddying the waters by introducing kissing at non-sex times. “IM me when you get in so I know you’re okay?” She asks instead, putting the memory out of mind.

“I will,” Buffy promises.

Faith compromises with herself by giving Buffy’s hip a little shove.

Buffy holds her ground a second, prolonging their contact, before she steps away. “Have a good rest of your night,” she says.

Faith nods. “Goodnight, B.”

Chapter Six

“So it’s like his thing—using his dead dad to get in girls’ pants?” Xander asks.

“Exactly,” Willow says. “Him and his gentle eyes and his shy smile and his ‘you’re the only one I can talk openly with’ crap! It’s all an act.” She angrily unpacks her textbooks onto her desk. “It's the pleasure principle!”

Buffy nods supportively, not totally understanding why Willow’s so upset. She glances at Xander, but he doesn’t seem any more clued in than she is.

“It's all about the sex,” Willow declares, slamming the final book down and wheeling toward them. “Find a woman, drag her back to the den. Do whatever's necessary, as long as they get the sex. Men haven’t changed since the dawn of time!” She jabs her pointer finger roughly in Xander’s direction.

He makes a frightened noise and cowers behind Buffy. “Hey! I’m not having the sex, let alone dragging anyone to my den! My last time was with Anya and she dragged me. It was onto the sofa bed, but still.”

“Will,” Buffy asks, putting a protective arm in front of Xander, “why are you so upset about this?”

Deflating slightly, Willow sits on the edge of her bed. “I just feel so bad. I pushed you to go out with Parker, and it turns out he’s a major sleazeball!”

“You didn’t know,” Buffy says. In spite of Willow’s frequent urging and the number of times she’s run into Parker on campus, she’s had coffee with him exactly once, and she wouldn’t really call it a date. She gets why Willow’s upset though; Buffy hasn’t tried very hard to dissuade her of the notion that she likes the guy.

“I know,” Willow says, “It’s just… you deserve something good, and I thought he could be it!”

Satisfied that she no longer needs to protect Xander, Buffy drops her arm. “I—”

“You’ve been working so hard!” Willow continues. “You’re patrolling more than ever, and I—I’m not around enough. I’m a bad friend. A bad roommate!”

“Hey,” Buffy says gently, “you’re not a bad friend.” She moves to sit beside Willow and takes her hand. “I’m fine,” she says firmly. “I promise.” She squeezes her hand, trying to think of a way to reassure her that doesn’t involve Willow sleeping in their room more often. “I have been patrolling a lot, but Faith’s usually with me. I’m not by myself.”

Willow doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s good—we’re actually hanging out more,” Buffy says. 

“That’s great, Buff,” Xander says. 

“Yeah,” Buffy says, shooting him a grateful smile for the backup before she turns back to Willow. “You don’t have to take care of me or cancel plans with Oz to stay in with me, okay? I’m good. And so what if Parker’s a jerk? There’s thousands of guys on campus.”

“Don’t forget the off-campus guys,” Xander pipes in.

“And the off-campus guys,” Buffy says dutifully. “I don’t need to date someone, like, immediately. I’m priorities girl—just focusing on school and slaying.”

Her friends make eye contact, both of them seeming surprised. Then Xander brings a hand dramatically to his chest. “Our little slayer’s growing up,” he tells Willow, faking a choked up voice. “Look at her, Will. She’s focusing on school.”

Willow looks legitimately pleased to hear that. 

Buffy’s got an ace up her sleeve, the ultimate way to put this matter to rest. She knows one thing the gang can never resist. “I do think we’re overdue for a Scooby movie night though.”

Eyes lighting up, Willow nods. 

“Mom’s going to be out of town this weekend,” Buffy says. “How about Saturday?”

“Works for me!” Willow confirms immediately. “Xander?”

He nods. “The bonus of unemployment is that I am usually available.”

“No more bartending?” Buffy asks, not having heard this before now.

“At least not until the fire department clears the building.”

“Can Oz come?” Buffy asks Willow. “Are the Dingoes playing?” 

“I think he’s free,” Willow says. “I’ll ask.”

“I wanna invite Faith too,” Buffy says. When neither of them object, she grins and holds up her hand for Willow to high five her. “Scooby movie night!”

XXXXX

Buffy studies the box before her, double checking to ensure she’s completed her assigned task fully. She’s in charge of making sure each of the tapered candles is wearing the little paper skirt thing that will stop it from dripping on someone’s hand. There are 250 of these in each box, and she and Shannon have made their way through two boxes each. Behind them, Tara is helping someone from the Women’s Collective group paint a large sign for the Take Back the Night rally and vigil they’ll be holding tomorrow. There’s apparently a large overlap between the Lesbian Alliance and Women’s Collective membership rosters, so the Alliance is co-sponsoring the event. 

“Is anyone else starving?” Shannon asks, closing up the box she’s finished working on. 

Buffy and Tara raise their hands simultaneously.

“Pizza?” Shannon asks hopefully.

Twenty minutes later, the candles are fully boxed and the signs are all hanging to dry. The three of them slide into one of the two booths crammed into the postage stamp sized lobby at Mr. Smith's Pizza Delivery (actually owned by an elderly Russian man named Mr. Kuznetsov). Mr. Smith’s has the dubious honor of being probably the third best pizza place this side of town, but what it lacks in quality, it makes up for in being closest to campus and having dirt cheap prices. Buffy orders a supreme pizza for herself. Knowing her dining habits well enough by now, Tara and Shannon order a Greek to share, plus a plate of garlic bread for the table.  

“So, Buffy, what are you gonna do tonight?” Shannon asks with an innocent expression, like she doesn’t already have a pretty good idea of where Buffy might be headed next.

Buffy glances at Tara, who gives her a small smile. She doesn’t hang out with Tara as often as Shannon, but she likes her. It can’t hurt to let one more person in on her secret. “I was going to hang out with a friend, but she canceled,” Buffy says. At Shannon’s questioning look and the very obvious way she tilts her head toward Tara, Buffy says, “You can tell her.”

Immediately, Shannon perks up and turns to Tara. “Buffy has a very special friend. They’ve been hooking up for weeks now.”

“A girlfriend?” Tara asks Buffy. 

“No, just a friend,” Buffy says. 

Shannon repeats herself. “A special friend.”

“A regular friend,” Buffy says, “with some added benefits.”

An employee brings their pizzas and a stack of plates, so they table the discussion for a minute while they get situated. The reprieve lasts as long as it takes Shannon to finish her first bite of pizza. Then she asks, “So why’d she cancel?”

That’s a mystery to Buffy as well. Everything was normal last night. They’d done an early patrol, then made their way through the movies available for rent at Big Lou’s until Buffy pouted hard enough for Faith to acquiesce to Some Kind of Wonderful. They watched it on Faith’s couch, eating Chinese takeout and bickering over whether Watts’s character was supposed to come across as a closeted lesbian. Then today, she’d come back from class to a message on her machine letting her know Faith wouldn’t be on patrol and would catch her later. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “She left a message. She sounded kind of weird.”

“Is she okay?” Tara asks, pulling a piece of steaming garlic bread free from the rest of the loaf.

“Yeah,” Buffy says automatically, then hesitates. It’s unusual for Faith to skip patrol. “I mean, probably.” Not hanging out with Buffy—that wouldn’t be that strange, but to skip patrol all together? “I don’t know.”

Shannon lifts her pizza. “Think I got whiplash from that,” she says, before taking a hearty bite.

“Maybe you should check on her,” Tara says. 

Shannon’s response is immediate. “No, she definitely should not.”

“Why?” Tara asks. “They’re friends. If Buffy thinks something’s wrong, shouldn’t she ask?”

“They’re friends with benefits,” Shannon stresses. “Once you introduce the benefits, the normal friend rules can’t apply the same way. She doesn’t want to look smother-y.”

“So I’m not supposed to want to know if she’s okay, because we’re”—Buffy lowers her voice—“sleeping together?”

“You can want to know,” Shannon says, “but in, like, a very casual, relaxed way, you know?”

Buffy does not know, and this conflicting advice is making her nervous. She starts in on a second piece of pizza, letting the two of them continue.

Rolling her eyes, Tara says, “She doesn’t need to play games. They’re friends, so she obviously cares about this girl, right, Buffy?”

“Right,” Buffy says automatically, but it’s not a lie. This thing with them—it’s not just about the sex. Buffy likes hanging out with Faith. She likes making her laugh. What she told Willow and Xander was true—they’re becoming real friends. 

“Then check on her,” Tara says. “Maybe she needs a friend—the regular kind.”

Shannon makes a face that says it’s your funeral, but Buffy nods. “Thanks, Tara.” Trying to change the subject from herself, she asks Shannon, “What’s new with you?”

Sitting up in her chair, Shannon says, “I’ve met my future wife.”

Buffy manages to keep a straight face, but it’s hard when she sees Tara holding back a smile. This is the third future wife Buffy’s heard about since they met. First there was the girl who sat next to her in econ. That one had been deemed tragically straight after confirmation that she was dating someone on the football team. The next one actually was gay—and they went on exactly one date after bumping into each other at the coffee cart before Buffy never heard another word about her. 

“Who is she?” Tara asks patiently. 

“Well,” Shannon says, wiping her hands on her napkin and leaning back a little, “she just joined my gym, and I’ve seen her twice so far.”

“Any actual interactions to report?” Buffy asks, helping herself to some garlic bread.

“Negative,” Shannon says, “but give me time.”

After dinner, Buffy accompanies them most of the way back to the dorms. She’s gotta change before patrol. Tara gives her a hug when they separate in the quad, then the two of them link arms and head in the opposite direction. 

Buffy thinks about their conflicting advice as she works her way through a (lonely, boring) patrol. She’s leaning toward following Shannon’s advice—Shannon hasn’t steered her wrong so far—but Tara’s words start to sound more sensible as the night goes on. They’re friends—won’t Faith appreciate it if Buffy just makes sure she’s okay? Besides, they’re slayers. If something’s wrong, maybe it’s supernatural and Faith needs Buffy’s help. 

By the time she ends her patrol, in front of Faith’s apartment building in a complete coincidence, Buffy’s decided. She’ll just swing by very casually and make sure everything’s okay. It’s a good strategy. A totally normal friend thing to do. 

“Hi,” Buffy says, when Faith opens her front door.

“B,” Faith says, looking surprised and maybe a little unhappy. “What are you—I left a message.”

“I know,” Buffy says, immediately feeling awkward about the lack of being ushered excitedly through the door. “I just figured—”

“I’m not—” Faith cuts in, then tucks her hair behind her ears before continuing. “I don’t feel like hooking up tonight, okay?” 

“Okay,” Buffy says, confused and embarrassed. Who said anything about that? “That’s not why I’m here.”

Faith sighs, opening the door all the way. “Come in,” she says, waiting until Buffy’s moving past her to the kitchen before she closes the door.

This isn’t exactly the welcome she was hoping for, but she came here for a reason, so Buffy perseveres. She lifts her bag over her head and sets it on one of the chairs. Across from her, Faith leans against the counter. Her shoulders slump a bit, and her face is drawn. It’s a stark contrast from her usual demeanor. “Are you okay?”  Buffy asks, trying to meet her eyes.

Faith shrugs, not looking at her. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m five by five.” 

There’s no way Buffy’s going to believe that, not with the way Faith’s lower lip trembles slightly. Now that she’s here, she thinks Tara was definitely right. Something’s wrong with Faith, and instead of talking about it, her plan was to spend her night in her apartment alone. “You don’t seem five by five,” Buffy says gently, coming a little closer to her. “Maybe like… two by five.”

Faith makes a complicated face at that, but otherwise doesn’t reply. 

“Five by two?” Buffy offers. “I don’t know how the scale works.” That earns her an eye roll, which is at least a slight improvement. Buffy knows Faith well enough to know that if she doesn’t want to talk, she won’t. A better strategy is to wait her out and see if she volunteers any information on her own. Buffy does have some other tools in her arsenal these days though. She moves the rest of the way into Faith’s space, and when she doesn’t immediately move away, Buffy wraps both arms around her in a loose hug.

Faith stiffens a moment, then she relents, letting her forehead drop to Buffy’s shoulder. She doesn’t cry, not exactly—but Buffy can hear how uneven her breathing is. 

She strokes Faith’s back lightly, not sure what to say or how to get her to open up. After a moment, Faith winds her arms around Buffy in return, her hands cold even through Buffy’s shirt. 

Buffy holds her a little tighter. She tolerates that for a minute, then Faith sniffles and straightens up. Still dry eyed, she says, “I can get you off. I know you’re probably—”

“Faith,” Buffy says firmly, her face hot, “stop.” 

Blinking in surprise, Faith finally looks at her.

“I don’t want that,” Buffy says. “That’s really not why I came over.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asks softly, her hands lingering on Faith’s arms. 

Faith shrugs again, dropping her eyes, but she doesn’t make any move to free herself. She seems reluctant to say anything. Buffy waits her out until she finally mutters, “It’s my mom’s birthday. Would have been anyway.”

Buffy’s stomach drops. She hadn’t realized. She tries to picture where they were this time last year. Faith would have just arrived in Sunnydale. She used to take a lot of unannounced walkabouts—this was probably one of them. She squeezes Faith’s shoulders, her chest feeling tight with sympathy. 

“Not a big deal,” Faith says, in spite of the fact that it obviously is. 

Traditionally, Buffy’s not great at talking about feelings, and she’s even less great at getting Faith to talk about hers. She remembers a time before when she went to Faith, wanting to make things better because they were at the lowest point in their relationship. It was after Gwendolyn Post, after Faith finding out that Angel was back and Buffy had hidden it from all of them, and Faith had shut her out completely. Buffy hadn’t known how to get through to her then, and she still hasn’t really figured that out, but talking’s not the only way to take care of someone. “Have you eaten?” She asks.  

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“I’ll make you something,” Buffy says, silencing Faith’s automatic protest with a stern look. “You need to eat.” 

Glancing around, Buffy sees a loaf of bread on the counter. She releases Faith, moving to the fridge and scoping out the food situation. 

She makes them both grilled cheese sandwiches, one of the few things she’s not terrible at making. They eat them in the small breakfast nook, elbows bumping, Buffy’s feet on the rung of Faith’s barstool. Faith dutifully drinks the large glass of water Buffy sets next to her. 

When they’re finished, Buffy deposits their plates in the sink and makes a mental note to wash them later. For now, she leads the way into the living room, waiting for Faith to settle herself in one corner of the couch before she takes the spot right next to her. “You wanna watch something?”

Faith nods at the TV remote, so Buffy turns it on. She leaves it as is, not bothering to change the channel. On screen, Lucille Ball attempts to perfect the ‘Vitameatavegamin’ commercial, cracking the studio audience up. 

Watching Faith more than the show, Buffy can see that she’s not really paying attention to the TV either. Her eyes are on it, but she looks a thousand miles away. She looks younger like this, knees folded toward her chest, her bare feet on the couch. Scooting a little closer to her, Buffy leans her head against Faith’s shoulder. 

She stays that way for a few minutes, not put off by Faith’s silence. Eventually, Faith shifts, her arm sliding around Buffy’s shoulders. She unfolds her legs and turns them both so her back is to the couch’s end, Buffy tucked between her and the couch. 

Buffy slips her arm around Faith’s waist, curling against Faith’s side. She’s gotten used to the two of them being close like this now, and it feels natural to tuck her head against Faith’s shoulder, her nose in the collar of her t-shirt. Gradually, Faith relaxes more. Maybe it’s the familiar world of I Love Lucy, but Buffy would like to think she’s helping too. 

After another full episode plays out on TV, Faith still hasn’t said anything, and Buffy decides to try the talking thing again. “How long has it been?” She asks quietly, not looking up from where her head still rests on Faith’s shoulder.

Faith’s exhale is long and tired sounding. “Almost two years,” she says. “She died last January.”

That hits hard. It means Faith lost her mother mere months before she was called, and her watcher a few months after that. Then she came to Sunnydale, and it hasn’t exactly been easy for her here. Buffy hasn’t made it easy. “I’m sorry,” she says. 

The hand resting on her arm squeezes lightly. “Not your fault.”

“Do you wanna talk about her?” Buffy asks.

Faith doesn’t respond right away, but after a moment Buffy can feel her shaking her head. “Not now. Maybe sometime.”

Buffy tilts her head back so she can see Faith’s face. “Is there anything I can do?” 

She still looks tired and sad, but the corner of Faith’s mouth lifts for just a second. “This is good,” she says. 

“Good.” 

It’s quiet again, time passing in scenes of black and white hijinks on the TV screen. Faith’s arm crosses Buffy’s where it lays across her middle, and she traces random patterns on Buffy’s skin. “It’s getting late,” Faith says when another episode ends. “You should be heading out soon, unless you wanna crash here.”

Her tone is completely neutral, but Buffy’s slowly becoming fluent in Faith. The forced casualness of her voice and the way she tenses just slightly let Buffy know that she actually does care what the answer is. Buffy wants to stay too. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Buffy says. 

When the TV’s been turned off, and they’ve untangled themselves enough to stand, Buffy hesitates. She doesn’t want to make Faith feel like she’s angling for anything, not after the greeting she got earlier, so she says, “I can take the couch if you want.”

Faith frowns. “Bed’s more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, relieved, and follows Faith to her bedroom. 

Faith instructs her to help herself to a basket of folded laundry, then disappears to the bathroom. It’s a bit weird, going through someone else’s laundry, in spite of the fact that she's actually removed a lot of this clothing from Faith when it’s been on her. Buffy finds a t-shirt near the top and discards the one she wore on patrol. When Faith returns just in a shirt and panties, Buffy gives up the search for shorts and does the same. 

In the bathroom, she washes her face and brushes her teeth with the time honored toothpaste on pointer finger trick, using Faith’s hair brush and coming back quickly. Faith waits for Buffy to get into bed before she turns the light off. 

They both roll on their sides so they’re facing each other. Faith doesn’t try to touch her. Through the shadows blanketing the room, Buffy can see her forehead is creased, her eyes squeezed shut. Faith’s breathing is unsteady again, and Buffy wonders if she’d let herself cry even if she were alone. 

It hurts to see her like this. “C’mere,” Buffy says softly, reaching for her. 

Apparently Faith was waiting for an invitation. She slides across the bed until she’s squished against Buffy, tucked in her arms. 

Faith still doesn’t cry, but she does let out a deep, shaky breath, the kind that sounds like it’s been stuck in your lungs a long time. Rubbing her back lightly, Buffy just holds her. 

XXXXX

Faith wakes up slowly, lingering for a while in the half dream state where everything is warm and soft and safe. When she finally opens her eyes, she sees why that feeling persisted so long. She’s on her side, Buffy loose limbed and sleep warm against her. Faith’s head is on her chest, one leg over Buffy’s, her fingers tangled in the borrowed t-shirt Buffy wears. She’s not sure how Buffy’s sleeping through Faith attaching herself to her like an octopus. She starts to shift away, but Buffy’s arm tightens around her back. “Nuh uh,” she murmurs sleepily. 

“Nuh uh?” Faith echoes. 

“Nuh uh,” Buffy says, more definitively, but only marginally more awake. 

Faith stays where she is, the easy rise and fall of Buffy’s chest relaxing her again. They’ve woken up together plenty of times now, but it’s usually perfunctory—smiling and maybe joking a little as they get up, planning to see each other later on patrol. There’s no lingering; Faith doesn’t tilt her head back like this so she can breathe in the scent of Buffy’s hair, doesn’t tune the rest of the world out just to listen to Buffy breathing. 

So this should feel stranger. When Buffy makes a contented little sound and pulls Faith tighter into her side, that should feel strange. Buffy’s face nuzzling into her hair should definitely feel weird. Instead it’s just…nice. 

It’s nicer still when Buffy blinks drowsily, says, “Hi,” and kisses her.

The nice feeling lasts for a few seconds, until Buffy’s eyes widen in sudden nervousness. “Oh—” she says, voice raspy from sleep, “Sorry—I wasn’t thinking. Was that—”

Faith cuts her off with a kiss, pushing her toes into the sheets and extending her neck so she can reach. “Hi,” she says.

Buffy relaxes, the worry on her face fading into a soft, happy look. Faith’s hand moves without her permission, fingertips brushing Buffy’s cheek before they slide into her hair. She guides Buffy’s mouth back to hers.  

They don’t do this—it’s not part of the deal—but maybe just for today, they can. Faith feels… not better—not exactly—but she does feel a little less bad, and that’s because of Buffy. There’s never really been anyone she could depend on, no one she was willing to show even an ounce of weakness in front of, but it’s different with Buffy. It’s kind of ironic that the two of them fucking has somehow made them better friends, especially given Faith’s typical ‘get some and get gone’ policy, but she’s gotta admit that it has. The only person she’s really comfortable with is Buffy. The only person she would have let in last night is Buffy. 

Buffy rolls on her side so they’re face to face. Her hand is under Faith’s t-shirt, warm and grounding where she rubs circles against Faith’s back. 

Their lips move together, lazy and slow. There’s no urgency to this, no building toward something more frenetic. They kiss, and then they stop, just breathing together until one of them starts it again. 

Faith’s so conscious of everything. Buffy’s eyelashes brushing her cheek, her mouth soft and relaxed, the morning light stealing through her windows and falling across them, painting Buffy’s hair golden. But mostly the warmth in her own chest, the quiet in her bones. The way, for the first time she can remember, she wants to stay right where she is. Just for today. 

Chapter Seven

Faith comes up the steps to the house on Revello Drive, not particularly looking forward to this Scooby night she agreed to attend. She can think of lots of things she’d rather do than hang out with Buffy’s friends, but it seemed important to Buffy when she brought it up. Faith kind of owes her one anyway, after the night of her mom’s birthday. Besides, friends do stuff for each other—even boring stuff like this—and Buffy’s her friend. Maybe even her best friend at this point, whatever that’s supposed to be mean.

She knocks on the front door, and it swings open quickly. Buffy’s standing on the other side, beaming at her. “Hey,” she says. “Come in.”

Faith steps inside, closing the door behind herself. Buffy’s obviously fresh from the shower, not wearing anything special, but she looks really good. They’ve patrolled together the last two nights, but they haven’t really been alone somewhere private since Buffy left Faith’s apartment on Thursday morning. It feels a little awkward now. Maybe that’s just on Faith’s end though, because Buffy steps forward and hugs her.

Guess we hug now. Faith slips one arm around Buffy’s waist and squeezes her back. “I brought some snacks,” she says against Buffy’s hair, and rustles the grocery bag in her other hand for emphasis.

“Great,” Buffy says, releasing her. “Pizza’s in the kitchen. Come stake your claim before Xander gets here.”

Following Buffy to the kitchen, Faith sets the grocery bag on the counter. There are four pizza boxes stacked on the stovetop with plates sitting beside them.

Buffy reaches in one of the lower cabinets and pulls out some large bowls that can be used for popcorn and chips. “You want something to drink?” She asks. “There’s soda in the fridge.”

Nodding, Faith helps herself to a glass of soda. Behind her, Buffy unpacks the bag she brought. Feeling a little at odds about this whole situation, Faith leans her elbows on the island and makes a conscious effort to act more like her normal self. “You know, it’s not too late to cancel movie night.”

Buffy glances over, her eyes immediately finding Faith’s cleavage prominently displayed thanks to her position.

“Can think of some other things I’d rather be doing,” Faith adds.

The tips of Buffy’s ears go pink, and Faith smiles with satisfaction.

“Tomorrow?” Buffy asks.

Faith stands up straight with a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

“Stop trying to tempt me, you temptress,” Buffy says, giving her a very unconvincing stern look. “I can’t cancel; I invited everyone over.”

Faith holds up her hands in surrender.

As if to prove Buffy’s point, they hear a knock at the front door.

Buffy gives her a look as she starts for the door. “Behave.”

“No promises,” Faith says, grinning when Buffy rolls her eyes.

Willow, Oz, and Xander follow Buffy back to the kitchen, arms laden with additional supplies. The five of them load their plates with pizza in the kitchen, then troop into the dining room to eat, the rest of the snacks waiting for the next course.

When the pizza is gone, they prep bowls with popcorn and chips and take them to the living room. Faith commandeers one end of the couch, a bag of M&Ms in hand, and resigns herself to a boring night.

Twenty minutes later, she’s surprised to find she’s actually sort of enjoying herself. Buffy, Willow, and Xander are spending most of the time talking, even after pressing play on the VCR, but it’s not like it’s her first time seeing the movie. She’s not sure whose idea it was to rent The X-Files movie, but based on the way Buffy smirks at her when she pulls the box from the Big Lou’s bag, Faith can guess. Faith knows Buffy’s more of a casual fan, but it turns out that the rest of the group are big X-Philes. It’s no one’s first time seeing the movie.

The chatter dies down when Scully finally appears on screening, swimming in a giant FBI jacket. “I love a woman in uniform,” Xander says in a swooning voice.

“You love all women,” Willow says.

Xander makes a face like he’s insulted, then says, “True.”

“But I do see the appeal of the uniform,” Willow agrees, adding, “on Mulder I mean.”

That…took a second longer than it should have. Faith looks at Willow and Oz cuddled up on the overstuffed chair together. Hmm.

Beside her, Buffy leans a little closer and holds out her hand expectantly. Faith shakes some M&Ms into her palm and reaches over, stealing some of the blanket Buffy has on her lap. Buffy willingly lets her have some, scooting a little closer so they can share. She’s sitting cross legged, and the movement makes her knee press into Faith’s thigh.

As admittedly hot as Scully is, Faith finds her mind wandering to what she’d rather be doing with Buffy. It seems the feeling might be mutual because a moment later, Buffy shifts closer, her arm brushing Faith’s. Faith doesn’t move away, and Buffy’s arm settles next to hers, too deliberate to be an accident. 

Faith glances at her, a little surprised, but Buffy appears to be entirely focused on the movie. She has; however, positioned the popcorn bowl so that it would block the majority of the room’s view of the space between them.

Buffy’s hand sits next to hers under the blanket, very close. Slowly, Faith flexes her fingers so that her knuckles brush Buffy’s.

After a second, Buffy’s hand pushes back against hers.

Faith assumes that’ll be it: just a secret acknowledgement that’s small enough to still fall under plausible deniability if anyone notices. Then Buffy lifts her hand so it’s floating above Faith’s, the tip of her middle finger lightly trailing across Faith’s skin.

Turning her hand over, Faith opens her palm. Buffy keeps up her slow, miniscule movements, just one finger lightly stroking Faith’s fingers and the center of her palm.

When her touch strays a little further, over the heel of Faith’s hand and onto the inside of her wrist, Faith inhales sharply. She catches herself before she makes any more noticeable noise, but Buffy still hears her, if the little smile on her face is anything to go by.

It’s completely and utterly stupid the way Faith’s pulse jumps at this; it’s the lightest touch, barely anything. 

On screen, Mulder is gearing up to tell his life story. “I'm the key figure in an on-going government charade, the plot to conceal the truth about the existence of extraterrestrials—”

“He really seems less crazy after you spend a little time in Sunnydale,” Oz says.

Faith lets out an obligatory chuckle, pretending that she’s very invested in the movie and definitely not getting a little turned on just from Buffy caressing her wrist.

The rest of the room is still paying them no mind, so Faith turns her attention to watching Buffy. A faint blush has crept up the side of her neck, and Faith can see her breathing is a little bit quicker than normal.

So she’s not the only one who finds this kind of hot. That’s a relief.

Buffy’s hand changes direction so she’s holding Faith’s wrist, her thumb now rubbing soft circles against Faith’s pulse point.

Faith has no idea what’s going on in the movie anymore. Her concentration doesn’t improve when Buffy releases her wrist only to slide her hand onto Faith’s thigh.

Glancing at Buffy again, Faith finds Buffy’s face a little pinker. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Little tease.

Unfortunately for Buffy, Faith has never in her life been presented with a bluff she wouldn’t call, so she slowly opens her legs a little wider. If Buffy wants to start something, why stop there?

Beside her, Buffy bites her lip and cuts her eyes to Faith. Raising one eyebrow, Faith stares back.

“Seriously?” Xander asks.

The popcorn bowl goes flying off Buffy’s lap as she all but yanks her hand back. It tumbles to the floor, drawing all eyes their way.

“You okay?” Faith asks, feigning the same surprise she sees on the rest of their faces.

“Yeah,” Buffy says quickly. “I just bumped it. I’ll clean it up.”

Willow presses pause on the movie.

“I’ll help,” Faith offers, pushing the blanket off.

Xander finishes what he was saying before the popcorn incident. “They’re seriously just mocking the audience at this point.”

Frozen on screen, Scully and Mulder stand in her apartment.

“Chris Carter is a monster,” Willow agrees. “There’s more popcorn in the kitchen if anyone wants.”

“We’ll make another bag,” Buffy says, as she and Faith shovel spilled popcorn back into the bowl.

Faith waits until they make it into the kitchen before she lets out the laugh she’s holding in.

Red-faced, Buffy groans, “Shut up.”

“Come on,” Faith says, nudging Buffy’s hip with hers. “It was a little funny.”

“I thought Xander noticed something,” Buffy says. She turns worried eyes to Faith. “Do you think he did?”

“No,” Faith says firmly.

“But—”

“B,” Faith says, taking her by the shoulders. “No one noticed anything except you dumping the whole bowl of popcorn.”

Buffy frowns, but she looks a little more convinced.

“Let’s just make more and get back in there, okay? It’s totally fine.”

Buffy nods, so Faith releases her and goes to the pantry for another bag of popcorn.

Once they’re settled back on the couch, Buffy stays mostly in her chosen spot, not leaning too close to Faith, and they go back to the movie.

The gang finishes off the popcorn bowl and most of the chip bowl too, watching Mulder and Scully investigate.

“That’s the most hated bee in America right there,” Oz says at length, when the alien-virus-carrying bee stings Scully just before she can give Mulder the passionate kiss they (apparently) all want to see.

Willow enthusiastically nods her agreement. “What about you, Faith?” She asks. “Are you a shipper?”

“Oh yeah,” Faith says. “MSR all the way, baby.”

Willow gives her an approving look.

“MSR?” Buffy whispers, leaning toward her.

“Mulder/Scully romance,” Faith whispers back.

Buffy nods, not moving all the way back toward her spot in the middle of the couch.

“We’re kind of like the Lone Gunmen,” Oz says a few minutes later, when Langly and Frohike are helping Mulder sneak out of the hospital. He looks at the slayers. “You guys are the FBI agents, and we’re your zany but loveable backup crew.”

“Who’s who?” Xander asks, leaning forward.

“Well, Willow’s Langly,” Oz says. “She’s got the best computer skills.”

While Willow preens over the compliment, Xander says, “I call Byers.”

Snorting, Faith shakes her head. “Oz is Byers. You’re Frohike.”

“Oh come on," Xander complains. “He’s older.”

“And wiser,” Oz says mildly.

“But Byers is way more normal,” Willow says. At Xander’s offended look, she grimaces. “Sorry!”

“Fine,” Xander huffs, settling back in his spot. “How about you two?” He looks at Buffy and Faith. “Who’s who?”

Buffy turns to her, but Faith’s got an answer at the ready. “She’s Scully, obviously. B’s way smarter than me.”

Buffy blushes the cutest shade of pink at the comment.

“Mulder went to Oxford,” Willow says.

Faith scoffs, “Mulder is a disaster. He’d definitely be dead by now if it weren’t for Scully.”

“He does have a habit of jumping into tunnels without knowing how many vampires are inside,” Buffy jokes.

“That was one time—”

“I’ll be Scully,” Buffy cuts her off, sounding quite pleased.

“Scully, you’re in some deep doo-doo at the moment,” Xander says, and they turn back to the screen to watch Mulder rescue Scully in the Antarctica facility.

Faith takes a look around. On the opposite end of the sofa, Xander’s sprawled over the arm, head propped on his hand as he watches the TV with rapt attention. Very casually, Faith drapes her arm across the back of the couch. When no one seems to notice, she lets her fingertips ghost across Buffy’s shoulder.

A shiver lets her know Buffy’s aware of her hand.

As the movie wraps up, Faith’s bold enough to let her thumb sweep the back of Buffy’s neck beneath her ponytail, pulling her hand back just as the credits roll. Beside her, Buffy shoots her a warning look, but Faith can see the smile playing on her lips.

After they’ve cleaned up the movie snack detritus, sleeping bags are unrolled across the living room floor. Faith didn’t bring one, but Buffy seems to be prepared for that, producing additional blankets and a pillow from upstairs that she pushes into Faith’s arms. Faith finds herself at the end of the row of sleeping bags, sharing a massive comforter with Buffy, listening to the group quiz each other through a lazy game of Would You Rather.

Faith mainly tunes it out, one arm stretched behind her head as she watches shadows move on the living room walls. She occasionally weighs in when she’s asked a direct question, or when someone’s answer is crazy.

“Xander,” Willow asks, “would you rather kiss Snyder or eat a bowl of millipedes?”

“Millipede me,” Xander says quickly.

“Is it, like, living Snyder, or his partially snake-eaten corpse?” Buffy asks.

“Living Snyder,” Willow says.

“I’d make out with Snyder before I’d eat the millipedes,” Faith says decisively.

“Agree,” Oz says. “Faith, would you rather listen exclusively to Savage Garden, or only be able to dance the macarena?”

Faith winces. “The macarena. At least I could just stop dancing in public. B, would you rather marry a chaos demon or give up mochas?”

“Oh God,” Buffy says. “They’re so slimy.” She thinks about it for a minute. “My devoted chaos demon husband will bring home a mocha for me every day.”

“But it’ll have slime on the cup,” Xander points out.

“A little slime can’t stand in the way of true love,” Buffy says.

Faith says, “Plus it’s probably good lube.”

Xander cackles loudly, and Buffy makes a gagging noise. “Thanks for the visual.”

“Welcome.”

“Will,” Buffy says, pointedly abandoning this conversational topic, “would you rather have the ability to read and speak every language or”—she thinks for a second—“the ability to hack any online information in the world?”

There’s silence from the center of the room for a solid thirty seconds. Faith imagines Willow’s stricken face as she tries to make the impossible decision between one nerd super power and another. Finally Willow says, “The languages. No, wait, the hacking!”

“I figured—”

“No! The languages!” Willow interrupts. “Definitely the languages. Final answer.”

Xander makes a tutting noise. “The next time our lives depend on hacking a police database, you’re going to be singing a different tune.”

“I know,” Willow says, sounding mournful. “Oz, would you rather have dinner with Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin?”

“Joplin,” Oz says, sounding reluctant, “by a hair. There’s no right choice there.”

The game continues for several more rounds, then settles into general conversation that peters out as the others get tired.

Faith listens to their breathing evening out and becoming deeper. She’s not tired yet; it’s still early by slayer standards. Next to her, Buffy’s on her side, facing the rest of the group. Faith can tell she’s not asleep yet either.

She tries to will herself to relax and drift off like the others—it’s just that her mind likes to wander. These days, it’s usually wandering in a specific direction. She hasn’t been with anyone except Buffy in weeks, not since before they started hooking up, so it makes sense that Buffy’s the primary focus of Faith’s less than pure mental musings. Right now is no exception. It’s dark in the room, but slayers have keen eyesight. Faith has no trouble seeing Buffy, and as she’s been thinking, she’s been looking. From the first time they met, Faith’s been attracted to her. Most of that was surface level shit. Buffy’s hot—anyone with eyes would notice that—but Faith’s gotten to see more than most. Her eyes trace the cascade of Buffy’s hair, swept over her shoulder so that the nape of her neck is just visible. Faith’s nuzzled her nose against that spot; she remembers how soft the skin is there, the pleased way Buffy sighs when Faith brushes her sweat-damp hair away from her skin and replaces it with her mouth. The spot just south of Buffy’s ear lobe that unfailingly makes her melt is currently in shadow, but Faith knows exactly where it is anyway. She can imagine the sound Buffy would make if she slid closer, letting her teeth scrape her earlobe, her lower lip ghosting across that sensitive spot.

Her eyes wander the shape of Buffy’s shoulder, follow the line of her side through the blanket until she arrives at the curve of hip protruding slightly higher than everything else. Faith’s familiar with the shape of it, the way it feels in her hand, solid against her palm while her fingers dig into the muscles of Buffy’s back. She’s held those hips while Buffy straddled her thigh, felt the flex and grind and swivel of them while listening to Buffy pant and gasp. 

None of this is going to help her get to sleep, but she knows what will.

As carefully as she can, Faith moves a little closer under the blanket. Buffy doesn’t seem startled when Faith’s hand slides over her hip. Her breathing maintains roughly the same tempo, but she turns her head, glancing over her shoulder.

Faith takes that as an invitation and she comes closer still, until her chest is brushing Buffy’s back, and Faith’s curled knees meet the back of her thighs. She squeezes Buffy’s hip roughly, letting her thumb worm under the hem of her t-shirt.

The skin there is as impossibly soft as the rest of her. Faith’s got a callus on her thumb, and it must feel scratchy, but Buffy doesn’t seem to mind. Faith can hear her heart beating just a bit quicker.

If it weren’t for the three other people here, Faith would be pulling Buffy against her and kissing her soundly, but she’s hesitant to even get closer. Instead she drops her head, letting her forehead bump Buffy’s shoulder blade. She squeezes Buffy’s hip again, hoping Buffy’s getting the message. I want you.

Buffy’s hand finds hers, and she grips Faith’s fingers for a second. Then she pulls the blanket back from her body and gets to her feet.

Faith follows her, the two of them moving in silence until they’re in the hall. In front of the stairs, Buffy takes Faith’s wrist and pulls her in. The kiss is a controlled release of pressure, just enough to keep Faith from exploding.

“Your room?” Faith asks, barely a whisper against Buffy’s lips.

Buffy shakes her head, then steps away, leading Faith through the kitchen and to the basement door. They go down the creaky stairs in socked feet, the door closed tightly behind them.

Faith’s never been to their basement before. It’s nondescript and swept clean, the laundry machines sitting at rest. A table and chairs sit in the center of the room, neatly stacked boxes lining the back wall.

“Mom’s using my room for storage already,” Buffy says, seeming put out. “Plus, less likely anyone’ll hear us down here.” She casts a nervous look toward the ceiling.

Seeing it, Faith says, “We can go back up if you’re worried.”

Buffy raises one eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m going to be getting a lot of sleep with you radiating, umm—”

“Horniness?” Faith suggests. She doesn’t mind; she’ll own it.

Buffy goes a little pink. “Yeah,” she says, “plus it’s sort of contagious.”

“Oh?” Faith’s hands find her hips.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says, allowing herself to be tugged closer. She reaches up, winding her hands in Faith’s hair. “We have to be quick though. And quiet.”

“Quick and quiet,” Faith agrees, lowering her mouth to Buffy’s neck. “You got it.”

“There’s probably—ahh”—Buffy’s words grind to a halt as Faith bites lightly, then she resumes with some difficulty—“probably some old camping stuff down here. I could find a cot or—”

“Don’t need it,” Faith says, stretching the collar of Buffy’s t-shirt in her effort to move her ministrations to Buffy’s shoulder.

“No?”

“Nope,” Faith says, leaning back to meet her eyes. “I’m gonna bend you over that table”—she bends down, easily scooping Buffy up and into her arms—“and fuck you on it.”

Buffy’s eyes widen, and she blinks.

“If that’s okay with you,” Faith adds. Never let it be said that she isn’t polite.

The response is a vigorous nod.

“Good,” Faith says, striding to the table. She sets Buffy down on her feet. “Take off your pants.”

The speed with which Buffy complies gives Faith all kinds of interesting ideas for later. For now, she focuses on the task at hand, grasping Buffy’s waist and spinning her around so her back is to Faith.

In spite of their agreement to make this quick, Faith doesn’t release her right away. She sweeps Buffy’s hair over one shoulder so she can reach her skin again, kissing lightly up the column of her throat. At the same time, one hand wanders under her shirt, moving up to cup her chest.

Buffy’s head rolls against her shoulder. She lets out a soft, pleased noise as Faith’s thumb strokes across her nipple.

“Shirt too,” Faith says, reluctantly releasing her long enough for Buffy to tug her shirt off and toss it on the table in front of her. Once it’s gone, she holds Buffy’s hip with one hand and uses her other to direct her upper body down.

Obediently, Buffy bends over the table, taking a moment to find a comfortable position. She ends up with the tops of her thighs against the table’s edge, arms crossed, palms flat on the table. She looks over her shoulder at Faith for a second before she rests her forehead on the pillow of her arms.

Faith would love to take her time like this, to keep Buffy in this position and tease her until she begs for more, but she knows she can’t. She gives herself a few seconds to really appreciate the view: Buffy’s cute little ass in the air, her thighs apart, cunt peeking from between them, pink and glistening and Faith’s for the taking.

“You’re perfect,” Faith says, meaning it. She runs her hand down Buffy’s spine to her ass.

Whimpering softly, Buffy arches her back and spreads her legs a little more.

Faith’s pussy throbs just looking at her.

After the night in Buffy’s dorm, Faith wasn’t sure if Buffy really got off on the idea of Faith watching her masturbate, or if she was just already pretty far gone and desperate to finish. But seeing how eagerly Buffy’s bent over this table, rolling her hips to give Faith a better view between her legs…it seems pretty clear.

“You like showing off for me?” Faith asks, already knowing the answer.

Buffy’s immediate response is to tense and start to lean away, but Faith catches her hips with both hands. “Don’t,” she says.

Buffy stops, but she doesn’t relax again until Faith bends over her, kissing between her shoulder blades. “I like it,” Faith murmurs against her back. “Like looking at you.”

That makes Buffy melt a little, and she presses her ass back against Faith.

One arm slips around Buffy’s waist. “Seeing how wet you are,” Faith continues, rocking her hips against Buffy’s ass.

The heat of Buffy’s body reaches Faith’s skin right through her pants. She wants her clothes off, wants her skin on Buffy’s, wants to grind herself against that perfect fucking pussy until they’re both sweaty and panting and combusting together.

Instead, she stills her hips and nips lightly at Buffy’s back before kissing the same spot. “You like me watching you,” she says, her voice only shaking a little.

Buffy pushes back against her. Getting no response from Faith, she whines into her folded arms, “Faith.”

“What?” Faith asks, grinning at the frustration in Buffy’s voice.

“You know what.”

“You want me to stop teasing you?”

“Yes,” Buffy huffs.

“Tell me the truth then,” Faith says. “You like showing me your cunt?” Faith slides her free hand between them, into her own pants, knowing Buffy can feel her moving. “Knowing how fucking hot you’re making me?” She lets her fingers slide into her soaked underwear, grunting a little when she skims her clit.

Buffy squirms a little between Faith and the table. Then, “Yes.”

It sounds petulant, but Faith takes the win nonetheless. “Good,” she says, pleased. She pulls her hand free, much to her body’s consternation, and straightens up.

Her wet hand meets Buffy’s ass, and Buffy sucks in a breath. Her back arches more sharply, and for a second she rises onto her tiptoes, as if Faith might need her to make herself more accessible. Faith takes the hint, following the curve of Buffy’s ass to the back of her thigh and then slipping her hand between her legs.

She’s cautious about it, knowing from experience that this angle can make someone feel a little exposed, but Buffy just rocks her hips backward, chasing Faith’s hand. So Faith parts her lips, dragging her fingers through the pooling wetness between them. As she moves down Buffy’s slit, Buffy groans into her arms, pushing harder against Faith’s touch.

The heel of her hand presses against Buffy’s opening, and Faith grinds it down a little, lazily circling her clit at the same time. She watches her hand while she works, quickly becoming coated and shiny with Buffy’s arousal.

There’s a whine of protest from the cocoon of Buffy’s arms when Faith leaves her clit. Faith bites back a laugh when the whine becomes a strangle moan. She’s lined up her fingers and pushes her way inside Buffy’s heat.

Faith stops there for a second, bottomed out to her knuckles and dizzy with want. Biting her lip to ground herself, she savors the feeling for a second: Buffy, velvet-soft and scorching, clutching Faith like she’ll never be deep enough.

Faith’s rib cage traps that feeling, hot and possessive. Hungry. She flexes her fingers, and Buffy’s cunt flutters around her hand.

“Faith”—Buffy’s voice is low and ragged—“please.”

Pulling most of the way out, Faith shoves inside Buffy again. The table scrapes across the floor, budging a few centimeters with their motion. She grabs the table edge next to Buffy’s hip, bracing it.

She builds up a rhythm, fingers sinking in, emerging slick and stiff. Buffy meets her each time, and sheer slayer strength keeps the old wood table from alerting the whole house to their activities.

Bent before her, Buffy claws at the tabletop, the muscles in her back flexing and relaxing. Her thighs quiver with the effort of holding herself up.

Faith looks at Buffy, trembling, sweat-sheened, and biting her lip to keep quiet, and feels warm in a different, unexpected way. Mine, she thinks, and before she can second guess it, she leans over her, pressing her lips to Buffy’s back like an altar. Mine.

Buffy shudders. One of her hands gropes for Faith, managing to brush her shoulder. Faith turns her head, kissing her wrist, and then straightens again.

Releasing the table, Faith reaches between it and Buffy’s hip. She passes the sweat-slicked curls covering Buffy’s mons, stealing lower until her fingers nestle between the sticky gate of Buffy’s labia and find her clit.

The sound Buffy makes could reasonably be classed as loud in spite of the fact that she presses her mouth to her arm to smother it.

“B,” Faith whispers warningly.

Buffy shakes her head, not lifting it from her arms. Faith’s not sure if she’s agreeing with her or too far gone to care if they’re overheard, but either way she’s not going to stop now. “Lean your hips back a little,” Faith says.

Buffy does what she asks, whimpering a little when the motion forces Faith’s fingers down to the hilt again.

Faith starts slowly, trying to make sure the damned table isn’t going to move and give them away. She leaves her fingers buried inside Buffy while her opposite hand reacquaints itself with familiar territory.

She doesn’t typically use her left hand for this so it takes a little more concentration than usual. Buffy’s clit peeks from under its hood, impatient and neglected. When Faith rubs a light circle across it, she feels the responding squeeze of Buffy’s muscles with both hands.

A groan leaves Buffy’s lips, quieter this time but guttural. The sound goes right to Faith’s cunt.

“You’re killing me,” Faith mutters.

The response is a laugh that abruptly turns into a grunt as Faith resumes circling her clit.

When she’s confident she’s not going to lose her rhythm, Faith eases her fingers most of the way out. She doesn’t try to hold back her satisfied sigh when she slides them back home, Buffy’s pussy squeezing and grasping at her.

“Fuck,” Buffy gasps.

Grinning, Faith speeds up a little. Thankfully, the table holds its position, probably due to the slayer-strength force with which Buffy’s digging her hands into it. The silence of the basement is broken only by their harsh breathing and the wet sounds of Faith’s hands moving.

Faith can feel Buffy tensing around her fingers, walls tightening as she gets closer.

“Faith,” Buffy murmurs, sounding like she’s clenching her teeth. “So good.”

“Turn your head,” Faith says, emphasizing her command with a harder thrust of her fingers. “I wanna see your face.”

A little cry escapes Buffy’s mouth, but she turns. Her wide eyes manage to meet Faith’s for a second before she drops her cheek to rest on her forearm. Her face is flushed, lips parted and red, hair clinging to her neck.

She looks a mess. She’s never looked sexier.

Faith strokes her clit a little harder, watching Buffy’s eyebrows draw together and her mouth form a sound she manages to hold back.

“Wish I could hear you,” Faith says, curling her fingers a little on the next thrust.

Buffy eyes clench tighter, her legs trembling. “I’m—oh, oh—”

Her hips roll and Faith goes with them, rubbing Buffy’s clit faster.

“Faith—fuck—oh GOD—”

Faith watches her face as she reaches her climax, sees the last seconds of concentration draw Buffy’s features taut before they shift abruptly into an expression of extreme pleasure. When her cunt clamps down around Faith’s fingers, Faith sways slightly on her feet, almost following her. 

Her pussy aches with envy and impatience, but she ignores it, focusing on riding out Buffy’s orgasm with her. When Buffy relaxes, breathless and exhausted, Faith very carefully extracts her hands.

After a mostly successful attempt at licking her fingers clean, Faith lightly strokes Buffy’s back. “You need some help?”

Buffy nods, a little dazed. Faith wraps a hand around her bicep, steadying her as she stands up straight again.

Back upright, Buffy looks even more disheveled, with reddened patches on her skin from sliding across the tabletop. Faith tucks her hair behind her ears, smoothing it down for her.

The smile she gets in return is one of her favorite expressions in Buffy’s repertoire: the little half smile that makes her look bashful. It’s even cuter with the pink cheeks she’s currently sporting. When Buffy steps into her arms, raising her mouth for a kiss, Faith’s more than happy to oblige.

“You’re still wearing all your clothes,” Buffy murmurs, her hands on Faith’s back, roaming across her t-shirt. “This troubles me.”

“Let’s fix that,” Faith says, and Buffy’s tugging her shirt up before she’s even finished speaking.

Raising her arms, Faith lets Buffy pull her t-shirt off and toss it on one of the chairs. The sports bra underneath takes a few extra seconds to wrangle, then it joins the shirt. Buffy presses her chest to Faith’s, skin on skin, and fumbles at the drawstring on her sweatpants.

Working together, they only manage to get Faith’s pants halfway down her thighs. The fact that they’re still kissing and neither of them seems to want to move has something to do with it. Reluctantly, Faith pulls her mouth from Buffy’s so she can shuck her sweats off along with her panties.

When they’re both standing in their socks, Buffy takes a quick look around them. Plucking her shirt off the floor, she covers the seat of one of the chairs with it, then sits down. “C’mere,” she says, patting her leg.

Faith climbs into her lap, her knees framing Buffy’s hips. Her toes just touch the ground like this, all of her weight resting on Buffy’s legs.

Wrapping both arms around her, Buffy pulls Faith close so she can kiss her. It’s soft and slow. Buffy’s hands are in her hair, tucking it behind Faith’s ears. She takes an unsteady breath, looking at Faith’s face intently.

“What?” Faith asks, unsure what to make of her face.

“You’re just”—Buffy pauses, then finishes with—“really good to me.”

Faith’s face goes warm. Something sarcastic starts forming on her tongue—her go-to response to anything said with the kind of absolute earnestness Buffy just directed at her—but before she can say anything, Buffy’s kissing her neck.

That distracts Faith from whatever comeback she would have gone with. She closes her eyes, burying her hands in Buffy’s hair. Buffy’s tongue traces circles on the sensitive skin of Faith’s throat, making her way toward her shoulder.

Faith tilts her hips forward, trying to find an angle that puts pressure on her pussy. Unfortunately, she’s sitting over the seam of Buffy’s legs. She’d need to shift to one side to get enough contact.

That’s evidently not in the plan, because Buffy opens her open thighs a little, having the effect of spreading Faith’s wider and making it even more impossible for her to find any friction. Before Faith can complain, Buffy’s hand moves into the open space.

She wastes no time. The flat of her hand presses firmly to Faith’s cunt, lighting up all of Faith’s nerves in a blinding spark of pleasure. A groan escapes Faith’s mouth before she can stop it, and Buffy’s other hand moves to her mouth, covering it.

“Shh,” Buffy whispers.

Nothing else in her life has ever turned her on like getting to fuck Buffy, and tonight has been no exception. Her pussy has an almost Pavlovian response to Buffy at this point. It doesn’t matter how small the touch, Faith’s a coiled spring for her. Her hand between Faith’s legs, her warm breath on Faith’s neck, the feeling of Buffy’s skin on hers, all of it makes her blood rush.

She’s hanging by a thread, but Faith nods shakily, making promises she probably can’t keep. Whatever she has to say to keep Buffy touching her.

Releasing Faith’s mouth, Buffy wraps her arm around Faith’s waist, keeping her snug and close as her other hand starts to work. The tips of her fingers press into Faith’s opening, shallow and hooked just a little. Stretching.

Faith whimpers.

Buffy’s fingers push further in, her palm sliding across Faith’s clit as she strains to get deeper. “I love being inside you,” she says softly, close to her ear, and how the fuck is Faith supposed to keep quiet if she’s going to say stuff like that? “Love the way you feel around my fingers.”

Gritting her teeth, Faith tightens her hand in Buffy’s hair.

Buffy chuckles low in her throat and rotates her wrist, grinding the heel of her hand against Faith’s clit. “You can pull my hair,” she says in that same soft voice, her breath close enough to tickle Faith’s ear, “as long as you stay quiet.” Her fingers slide out and then slam back into Faith with as much force as she can muster at the current angle.

Fuck. Faith grips her hair hard enough that it must sting, but Buffy doesn’t miss a beat. 

Out

In

It’s rougher this time—three fingers opening her wider, Buffy humming a satisfied sound in her ear, and Faith can’t help the grunt that she lets out.

“Faith,” Buffy murmurs, probably reminding her that they could be overheard, but hearing her name in that low voice doesn’t do anything to extinguish the heat building in Faith’s stomach. In fact, it does the opposite because even Buffy’s voice is unbearably hot. Faith could get off to her reading the phone book.

Wanting more, Faith rolls her hips, using Buffy’s shoulders for leverage. Buffy gives her what she wants, the push and pull of her fingers accompanied by slick strokes across Faith’s clit.

Faith’s whole body feels electric, tingly down to her toes. Pressure builds inside her as she rocks in Buffy’s lap and she turns her face toward Buffy’s hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and her damp skin.

She’s getting close to coming when Buffy lets go of her waist. Her hand slides between them and finds Faith’s tits, first one and then the other. Nimble fingers tweak her nipple, and Faith shudders, her nails digging into Buffy’s shoulder.

“Didn’t think I’d forget about these, did you?” Buffy asks, her lips brushing Faith’s neck as she talks. “I know how much you like when I play with your nipples.”

Leaving her fingers still tucked inside Faith as far as she can get them, Buffy adjusts her hand, her thumb finding her clit directly.

“Buffy—” Faith grits out, her eyes squeezed closed.

“That feel good, baby?” Buffy asks, rolling one stiff peak between her fingers.

Her clit twitches under Buffy’s thumb. ‘Baby’ sounds good rolling off Buffy’s tongue, it sounds very good. “Yeah,” Faith breathes, letting her head slump onto Buffy’s shoulder.

She’s so wet, slick down her thighs and covering Buffy’s hand. Wet and so tight, her muscles tenser and tenser. She clenches around Buffy’s fingers, needing to come so badly it almost hurts.

Buffy’s lips brush the shell of her ear. “You feel amazing.”

Her thumb keeps moving, circling and stroking, and Faith’s burning—smoldering between her legs, heat flickering through her stomach. It builds and builds until it explodes, white hot in her cunt, and Faith’s shaking, turning her face into Buffy’s neck to muffle the moan she can’t hold back.

When her blood finally stops rushing so loud that she can’t hear anything else, she finds herself wrapped in Buffy’s arms, one strong hand rubbing her back.

Faith sighs, letting her muscles relax into Buffy’s hold. She should get up—she’s probably crushing Buffy—but it’s nice, being held like this. “Best sleepover I’ve been to in a while,” she murmurs, smiling to herself when Buffy snickers.

“Only in a while?” Buffy asks. “You must have some wild sleepover stories then.”

“I’ll tell you some time,” Faith says agreeably.

“Think anyone’ll notice if we just sleep down here?” Buffy asks.

“Probably,” Faith says, finally sitting up. “Why, you wanna go again?” She raises one eyebrow in a clear challenge.

“No,” Buffy says. “Well, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I meant”—she pauses a second, looking suddenly interested in Faith’s belly button—“I like sleeping with you—after.”

This is the second time tonight Buffy’s caught her off guard. The same instinct is there—to tease her and blow this off with a joke—but Faith swallows it down. She doesn’t know exactly what happened the first time Buffy had sex, but she knows enough to guess that they didn’t spend the night cuddling. She knows Buffy probably woke up alone and it only got worse from there. The whole ‘cuddling and sleeping over after they’re done fucking’ thing—that wasn’t exactly what Faith expected when they agreed to add some benefits to their friendship. It’s not her norm. She doesn’t mind it though. Sometimes they take a nap and then have sex again. Even when they don’t, it’s kind of nice having Buffy there.

Faith says, “Yeah, I know. Me too.” Her hand meets Buffy’s cheek, thumb light on her jaw. “Tomorrow though, right?”

Buffy nods, looking like she feels a little better.

Faith kisses her before she climbs back to her feet, and again once they manage to pull their clothes back on—minus Buffy’s shirt, which is decidedly worse for the wear after having been underneath them. Buffy finds another shirt in a basket of clean laundry sitting atop the dryer, and they go upstairs quietly.

Back in the living room, the others slumber on, seemingly unaware of their absence. Faith snuggles the comforter around herself, feeling like she might actually be able to sleep now. Beside her, Buffy’s on her side, facing Faith, looking similarly ready to pass out. Faith watches her for a minute in the dark. Then she reaches over, feeling for Buffy’s hand under the blankets.

Buffy lets her take it, opening her eyes and giving Faith a half smile.

Hands tucked out of sight, they finally go to sleep.

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Chapter Eight

As Buffy makes her way through Stevenson Hall to her room, it seems like the entire building is fully decked out for Halloween. Nearly every door is decorated, and the bathroom is filled to the brim with girls doing their makeup and zipping up each other’s costumes. Buffy wasn’t exactly planning to partake in the festivities—getting turned into a helpless 18th century maiden and hunted by vampires hasn’t really placed Halloween high on her list of favorite holidays. Unfortunately, Giles is once again insistent that nothing supernatural will possibly happen tonight, leaving her with no valid excuse to skip this house party Willow seems intent on going to. Setting her bag down when she reaches her room, she sits down at her desk with a huff. If she can’t get out of this thing, she can at least make it a little more fun. 

Wiggling her mouse to wake up her monitor, she clicks the AIM icon and quickly scans her buddy list. Faith’s idle, but she sends a message anyway.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: hey

While she waits for a response, she walks into her closet, flicking through the hangers for inspiration. There’s gotta be something she already owns that’ll work for a costume. A few moments later, a chime comes from her laptop. Buffy abandons her search and goes back to AIM.

MoonBaby617: sup? G got something for us to do?

xxIcePrincess1681xx: nope, we officially have the night off

MoonBaby617: oooh

MoonBaby617: what are you gonna do tonight then

xxIcePrincess1681xx: will wants me to go to a party 

MoonBaby617: cool 

Buffy hesitates a second. Faith just did Scooby movie night with them. Is it weird to ask her to hang out with the gang again so soon? She doesn’t want it to seem like she’s monopolizing her time.  

MoonBaby617: you gonna go?

Just ask her, she tells herself. It’s fine.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: i think so. you wanna come? save me from being a fifth wheel?

MoonBaby617: who’s the fourth?

Buffy stares at the screen in confusion for a second before she gets it. 

xxIcePrincess1681xx: Anya

xxIcePrincess1681xx: apparently it’s a date

MoonBaby617: lol

MoonBaby617: yeah i gotta see this

Buffy grins at the screen. Now she’s gotta come up with a better costume. Something cute. 

MoonBaby617: wanna meet at your place and go together?

Inspiration strikes. She’s got the perfect idea. She just needs a little help from her mom.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: can we meet at my mom’s? my costume’s there.

XXXXX

The night starts off well enough. Her mom is able to work some magic with the sewing machine, and the Red Riding Hood costume still hanging around their basement fits well enough. It’s a little shorter and a little tighter these days, even with the sewing help, but that’s kind of what she’s going for anyway. 

She meets Faith on the front porch, grinning as she takes in her costume. “I like the look.”

Clad in track pants and a halter top with a matching jacket, Faith flashes her the peace sign. Her eyes sweep slowly up Buffy’s body, lingering on her bare legs before giving her a sly look. “I like yours, too.”

“You should have told me you were going to do Sporty Spice,” Buffy says, her face warm from the way Faith’s looking at her. “We could have coordinated.”

“Let me guess,” Faith says, coming up the last few steps to meet her. “You’d wanna be Baby.”

“Maybe I’d be Posh,” Buffy says, pouting.

“Definitely Baby,” Faith teases, gently tugging one of Buffy’s braids. 

Buffy swats at her hand. 

Sidestepping her easily, Faith asks, “You ready to go?”

Buffy nods, feeling a little more enthusiastic about tonight now that Faith’s here. They’re dressed up and going to a party like normal people. They’re going to have a good time. 

By the time that they realize the layout of the frat house is no longer operating according to the laws of physics, Buffy is no longer having a good time. In fact, she’s mentally cursing both Giles and Willow for talking her into celebrating Halloween. She really should have known better. This year, she even brought a basket full of weapons with her just in case, but the universe has still found a way to screw her over. They’re trapped in a house of horrors; Willow’s angry with her; Xander’s wandered off somewhere. Faith’s trying to find Willow. Buffy’s trying to find Xander. And everywhere she turns, she’s gone in a circle. 

Her certainty that she needs to begin boycotting Halloween only grows when she breaks down a locked door, trying to get to whoever is screaming for help on the other side, only to find herself plummeting several feet. She hits the ground, dazed. After a moment, she glances around her. The room she’s in has a hard packed dirt floor and concrete walls. It’s dark, lit only by a single bare bulb burning on the opposite side of the room. Buffy pushes herself up on her elbows, wincing. “Basement,” she says in dismay. “I'm in the basement.”

“All alone,” someone says back. The voice is husky and unfamiliar. 

She glances around, but can’t find the source. “Who's there?”

A guy steps out of the shadows, his head tilted obscenely on his obviously broken neck. “They all ran away from you,” he says in a bored tone. “They always will. Open your heart to someone and—” He chuckles a little, trying to shrug and making his head rise for a moment. 

Glowering, Buffy starts to get up. 

The corpse says, “But don't fret, little girl. You're not alone.”

Before she can sit all the way up, several decaying hands break through the dirt around her, grabbing at her clothes and limbs.

“Anymore,” the dead guy adds, seeming positively gleeful about it. 

She struggles frantically, but the hands seem to have preternatural strength. Some yank at her, pinning her down, while others dig their way up, until heads and torsos begin dragging themselves out of the ground.

Buffy screams, kicking and clawing at them. The smell is overwhelming, and she fights the urge to gag. She has no time to be squeamish. Especially not as they start trying to bite her. One gets close to succeeding, biting into her skirt before she knees it squarely in the face. 

That gives her enough space to get to her knees, then her feet. The zombies have fully emerged from the ground now, and they lurch after her. It doesn’t matter how many times she hits them, they won’t stay down.

“No matter how hard you fight, you just end up in the same place.” The dead guy is watching her from across the room. “I don’t see why you bother.”

She’s back on the ground, kicking at a zombie who tackled her, when she spots what looks to be a door. With one last ferocious kick, she clears herself a path and starts crawling. 

The zombies are behind her, trying to grab her and drag her back, but Buffy stumbles forward, hitting the door. It’s stuck. 

Throwing her shoulder into it, she hits the door, once, twice, and then it pops open, and she lurches through it. She slams the door behind herself, gasping for breath. 

She’s in a large room with a few other people, all of whom look terrified beyond belief. She scans the crowd, looking for her friends, and finds Oz, doubled over and clutching his head. 

“Oz?” Buffy asks.

Just as he looks up, another door is thrown open and Willow stumbles through it. She’s screaming, clawing at herself. “Get them off me! Get them off!”

“Will,” Buffy tries, but Oz steps past her, touching Willow’s arm. “It’s okay,” he says. “We’re okay.”

The door Buffy came through opens again, this time revealing Faith. Her eyes are swollen, ponytail half undone. She’s shaking. 

“Hey,” Buffy says, immediately reaching for her.

Faith recoils at the sound of her voice. Her red eyes meet Buffy’s, widening in shock, before she flings herself bodily into Buffy’s arms.

Buffy finds herself on the receiving end of a slayer strength hug, her feet lifting off the floor for a second. “Faith,” she croaks, “ouch.”

“Sorry.” Faith sets her down, her hands lingering on Buffy’s shoulders. “You’re okay?”

“Relatively speaking,” Buffy says. “Are you?” 

Faith nods, still looking unsteady.

When Faith releases her, Buffy can see Oz has wrapped Willow in his arms. His eyes flick to Faith, then back to Buffy. Their eyes meet, and he offers her a small, enigmatic smile. 

She nods back, unsure exactly what the expression on his face means, before turning away. “Xander,” Buffy says, “you good?”

Xander visibly startles. “You can see me?” He blinks, looking like he might burst into tears. “Good. Oh God, that's good.”

“We have to get out of this fucking house,” Faith says.  

It takes a little longer than Buffy would have liked to make that happen, but she does get to squish a fear demon under her shoe. It’s her first time slaying by stomping, so she’s pretty excited about it. Once Gachnar is goo beneath her sneaker, the house goes back to normal. 

The door opens and people spill into the night. Buffy follows the screaming masses outside, finding her chest loosening as she walks. It’s over, and none of it was real. Around her, her friends are panting, disbelieving smiles taking over their faces. Buffy glances at Faith. She doesn’t look like the rest of them. Her eyes are jumpy, focused on Buffy, but then darting away when she notices. Buffy zeroes in on the flicker of Faith’s pulse in her neck. It hasn’t slowed down. 

Half paying attention, Buffy hears Giles saying something about debriefing at his apartment. She keeps her eyes on Faith, wondering what’s wrong, until she hears Willow calling her name.

“Buffy? You guys coming?”

“You know what,” Buffy says casually, “we’ll probably do a quick sweep. See if anyone else is making mischief tonight. You guys go on.” She moves closer to Faith’s side on instinct. She’s not sure what’s going on, but Faith’s practically vibrating beside her. Waving goodbye to the gang, she slips her hand in the crook of Faith’s elbow and turns her in the opposite direction. 

“You wanna do a sweep?” Faith asks, not sounding enthused. 

Buffy can feel her weight shifting, leaning closer. Faith doesn’t shake her off, so Buffy keeps her hand in place as they walk. “Nah,” Buffy says. “Let’s go back to mine.”

Faith doesn’t question why Buffy lied to her friends. She lets Buffy lead them back to her dorm, lets Buffy hold onto her through the dark campus, past the security desk and into the elevator. At the door to her room, Buffy has to unearth her room key from a hidden pocket in her costume. She releases Faith’s arm, but shifts so her hip is touching Faith’s. It feels important that she not stop touching Faith for some reason. Buffy pushes open the door and tosses her keys on the desk, ushering Faith in before she closes and locks the door behind them. The twinkle lights she forgot to unplug earlier give the room a mellow glow. 

Setting down her basket of weapons, Buffy toes off her sneakers. She’s turning to Faith, opening her mouth to ask if she’s okay, when she finds herself wrapped in strong arms. The angle isn’t dead on, but rough fingers meet Buffy’s jaw, turning her face so their mouths meet in a crushing kiss. 

She’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and Buffy manages to turn herself more fully toward Faith. She only has enough freedom of movement to get a grip on her hips. The polyester tracksuit of her costume feels strangely un-Faith like under her hands. It doesn’t get less strange when Buffy finds herself laid flat on her bed, her costume rucked up around her waist, with Faith on top of her. 

Faith’s arm is still underneath her, holding onto Buffy’s waist like she might fly away in spite of how she’s pinned to the bed. Her cheek presses to Buffy’s chest. With her other hand, she reaches for Buffy’s panties. 

“Faith,” Buffy says a little questioningly, and Faith’s hand stills. Buffy doesn’t want her to stop necessarily, but she wants to know what this is. Faith’s always so careful with her. She’s patient and she asks first before she does things. The whole tackling thing, while not unwelcome, is new. 

“Sorry,” Faith says, immediately raising herself off Buffy so she’s on her knees. 

Confused, Buffy sits up. “Don’t be sorry,” she says, tugging her skirt down so it’s covering her again. “Are you okay? You seem—”

“I’m fine,” Faith says. She doesn’t exactly look fine, although she does look less twitchy than she did outside the Alpha Delta house. She meets Buffy’s eyes. “I just want you. I need to—” She stops there, looking away again. “Sorry.” Buffy can practically see her eyes shuttering. “Look, I should go.”

Whatever Faith’s not saying right now, Buffy understands the critical part. Faith’s upset about something that happened in the house, and Buffy’s the one she’s turning to. Buffy’s what she needs. “No,” she says, reaching across the space between them and taking the zipper of Faith’s hoodie in hand. “You’re not going.” Buffy pulls the zipper down. Reaching the bottom of the track, she opens the hoodie and pushes it off Faith’s shoulders. 

Faith seems to relax a little at that and she wiggles her arms free of the sweatshirt, tossing it away. Buffy pulls her tank up, and Faith discards that too before she reaches for the apron sash tied behind Buffy’s waist. 

Now that Buffy’s taken the lead, Faith seems willing to follow. She doesn’t immediately climb back on top of Buffy once they’re undressed. She settles on her side at Buffy’s nudging, folding her arms around Buffy so they’re face to face.

Faith seems uncharacteristically serious, with none of the teasing that she so frequently employs, but she responds to Buffy’s touch the same as always. When Buffy kisses her neck, she gets a soft moan in response, and her hands on Faith’s back prompt her to press closer, fitting her thigh over Buffy’s. 

It’s an invitation, but Buffy still takes her time in accepting it. She kisses Faith until all traces of the subdued lipstick she’s wearing are gone. Working her fingers into the lopsided ponytail still holding her hair back, she unties it unties it and smoothes it down her back. She lets her hands wander Faith’s body, finally roaming over her ass and down the back of her bent leg before gliding back up the inside of her thigh. 

There’s a pleased sigh from Faith as Buffy nears the apex of her thighs, and her hips strain forward expectantly. Buffy makes just enough space between them to comfortably position her arm, then gently settles her hand between Faith’s legs. She pauses there, palm against the nest of dark curls covering Faith’s mons, fingertips just barely brushing the heated skin of her labia. 

Since their first time together, Buffy’s become a lot more comfortable letting her own hair grow in. That’s due in large part to how much she’s found that she actually likes Faith’s. It’s a cute, fluffy little patch, and she likes the feel of it under her fingers or brushing up against her. There’s also something a bit sexy about it. Faith doesn’t look like the actresses Buffy came across on her one ill-fated attempt to research lesbian sex online. She’s not overly primped. She’s just herself, and if there’s one thing Buffy’s figured out with this whole sexuality experiment, it’s that she really likes Faith’s body. 

Faith sucks in a breath as Buffy’s fingers slide down the seam of her lips, not quite parting them. She opens her legs a little wider, making a sound of discontent. 

When Buffy reaches the bottom of Faith’s labia, she slips a finger between them and finds her just a little wet, nowhere near her usual state when Buffy’s touching her. She starts to pull her hand back, thinking she’s jumped the gun, but Faith’s arms tighten around her and she rolls her hips toward Buffy’s touch. 

Tentatively, Buffy circles her fingertips around Faith’s opening, trying to gather more slickness before she moves on. There’s not much to be had, but Faith says, “Inside me,” in a low voice. 

“You sure you’re ready?” Buffy asks uncertainly. 

“Uh huh.”

Buffy hesitates, dipping one fingertip into the little bit of pooled wetness at her opening. 

“B,” Faith groans, her forehead pressed to Buffy’s, “I’m good. I promise.”

Carefully, Buffy slides just one finger inside her. Faith’s body feels tighter like this, less prepared, and she doesn’t want to hurt her. Far from being hurt, Faith stifles a moan, clutching Buffy closer. 

When Buffy gently pulls back and pushes forward again, Faith’s leg tightens around hers. Her hand is on Buffy’s side, tucked out of the way, and she squeezes encouragingly. 

Satisfied that this really does feel good to Faith, Buffy speeds up her motions a little, going faster but not harder. This doesn’t seem like a ‘harder’ kind of night, not with the way Faith’s clinging to her. 

Faith kisses her, only half against her mouth, her breath hot and quick against Buffy’s cheek. Managing to wiggle her trapped arm just a bit, Buffy brings it up between them, cupping the side of Faith’s neck. 

It doesn’t take long for Faith’s body to start responding to Buffy’s ministrations. She’s cautious at first, only rubbing Faith’s clit through its hood, sticking to soft thrusts of just the one finger. Gradually, her movements become easier as Faith starts to become wetter. 

When Faith murmurs against her ear, “I can take more,” Buffy lines up and pushes two fingers inside her. Faith’s hand digs into her side, and her breath is a whine. 

“Okay?” Buffy checks.

Faith nods.  

Slowly, Buffy slides the rest of the way in until her knuckles meet Faith’s skin. Faith breathes deeply, her eyes closed, so Buffy waits there, giving her a second. She strokes Faith’s neck with her opposite hand, feeling goosebumps spring up behind her thumb.

Leaving her fingers where they are, Buffy makes a cautious skim around Faith’s clit. That’s met with a noise Buffy would categorize as ‘happy’ so she does it again, careful to keep her touch light. 

Faith’s sighs, a little yeah whispered close to Buffy’s ear, so Buffy starts thrusting again. Slickness covers her fingers and seeps out around her knuckles, and she dips her thumb down, coating it before she brings it back to Faith’s clit. 

This is different for them—slow and soft and close—but Buffy doesn’t mind. She likes it actually—not that she wants Faith to be upset, but she likes being the one Faith trusts to let close to her. She likes taking care of her, whatever that looks like. 

Buffy brushes her lips across Faith’s cheek, then her chin, then the corner of her mouth. Faith tilts her head, giving Buffy more canvas to work with. She whimpers when Buffy trails kisses over her jaw to her neck. 

Buffy’s still trying to figure out the talking during sex part—what sounds sexy and what just sounds dumb?—but right now she goes on instinct. “I’ve got you,” she says, whispered like a secret against Faith’s skin.  “I’ll take care of you.”

The hand on Buffy’s waist moves, Faith’s arm wrapping fully around her. She turns her head back, bringing their lips back together. 

Kissing Faith while they do this is often a challenge, but today it’s perfect. She can feel when Faith’s breathing changes, when her lips tremble just a little. Slipping her hand between them, Buffy moves down Faith’s chest. Her nipple stiffens at the touch, pressing between two of Buffy’s fingers. When she squeezes her fingers together just a little, Faith hitches a breath against her lips. 

The world shrinks to the two of them, her senses aware of nothing other than Faith’s hands and her mouth and the heat and pressure of her around Buffy’s fingers. Is sex like this for everyone? Buffy wonders. Does the feeling of someone’s heart pounding under your hand always make your chest feel full to bursting? Would the shape of anyone else’s lips, well-kissed and open in pleasure, be so beautiful it’s hard to look away? 

They can’t be inventing something new—people have been having sex for as long as they’ve existed—but it feels like they are. 

“Buffy…” It’s murmured, barely audible, lost in the space between their mouths, but Buffy hears her anyway. She swallows hard at the sound of Faith’s voice, breathless and shaky. 

Would her name in someone else’s mouth warm her down to her bones?

Faith’s hips have started rocking toward her hand. By now, Buffy could reasonably be rougher with her, she’s not afraid of hurting Faith anymore, but she doesn’t want to be. This is good, just like this.

She already loved making Faith come. Now, coaxing her gently toward the edge, not pushing her over with an impressive final move but letting her teeter, balanced on Buffy’s fingertips until she physically can’t help but fall, Buffy loves it even more. Faith shudders against her, crushing Buffy closer. There’s hardly space for breathing between them, Faith’s face in her neck, Buffy’s hand trapped between her legs. 

Then she’s pulsing around Buffy’s fingers, gasping a hoarse yes that becomes an unintelligible grunt when she presses her mouth to Buffy’s shoulder. Faith’s fingers dig into her back, and Buffy slows her hand to a stop. Still locked in Faith’s arms, she can’t exactly move to hold her, but she nuzzles her face into Faith’s hair, kissing her temple when she finds it. 

When Faith finally loosens her arms enough for Buffy to move again, she has a peculiar look on her face. Buffy’s not sure what to make of it. It’s not upset per se, but it’s not happy either, just very intense. 

“You okay?” Buffy asks, touching Faith’s cheek.

Faith nods. Then she kisses her, her hand coming up to tangle in Buffy’s hair. Faith seems content to stick with the slow and gentle theme, her tongue circling Buffy’s lazily. 

Buffy’s been focused on Faith, but she’s suddenly aware of her own body. Her thighs are sticky and she can feel her pulse drumming between her legs. 

A hand on her shoulder encourages Buffy onto her back, and Buffy goes, opening her legs as she gets comfortable. She notices Faith’s eyes skip downward for a moment, then Faith’s following her, climbing on top of her. 

Her hips settle between Buffy’s thighs, pressed tight against her. It’s a tease, just a tiny bit of friction, and Buffy whines. 

Faith smiles, not her usual cocky grin, but something smaller and sweeter. “Relax,” she says, snaking her hand between them, “I’ve got you now.”

At the first brush of her fingers against Buffy’s sex, a sigh of relief and pleasure bubbles from Buffy’s chest. Faith’s fingers glide the length of her slit before returning to her clit. She watches Buffy’s face as she circles it, and Buffy struggles to keep her eyes open and on Faith’s with how good her hand feels.

Needing something to anchor herself, Buffy reaches for her. Faith’s perfectly willing to layer her whole body over Buffy’s, in spite of the fact that it must be hell on her wrist. Buffy wraps her arm around Faith’s back, holding on. 

Pushing off with her toes, Faith starts to rock on top of Buffy. This sets up a repetitive motion of her fingers over Buffy’s clit. Behind her hand, Faith’s mound and the tops of her thighs press against Buffy, creating more friction. 

Buffy opens her legs wider, and Faith snuggles in tighter, groaning a little when Buffy’s slickness gets on her skin. Their breasts crush together with each motion of Faith’s hips. It feels good for Buffy, but she knows how sensitive Faith is—it has to feel even better for her. The idea of that makes Buffy strain her hips up toward Faith’s, more excited than she already was.

Pressure builds between her legs, and soon Buffy’s hands are digging into Faith’s back as her hips work against Faith’s. 

“Mmm, there you go,” Faith encourages, her voice low. “Take what you need.” 

Buffy’s leg wraps around Faith’s ass, pulling her in harder. The tension in her muscles feels good, traveling up her legs and settling between them. She rotates her hips, groaning at the feeling of Faith’s skin against her splayed pussy. 

Faith’s fingers rub relentlessly at her clit.  “There’s my girl,” she says, sounding a little breathless. Buffy clenches hard at that, gasping. 

Managing to open her eyes again, Buffy sees Faith still watching her. Her face is flushed pink, perspiration beading along her hairline. Her lips curve into a slight smile when their eyes meet. 

Faith grinds herself down harder. Wetness seeps from between Faith’s legs, mixing with Buffy’s, their bodies slick and hot and moving together.

Heat sweeps up the back of Buffy’s legs, flooding through her belly and prickling her skin. She whimpers, clutching Faith harder.

“What do you need, B?” Faith whispers. “I’ll give it to you.”

Buffy looks at Faith, her hair falling around them, big brown eyes warm and soft and focused on her, and she feels a sudden fullness in her throat. “Kiss me,” she says.

Faith does, softly at first, then more determined, her teeth grazing Buffy’s bottom lip, her tongue licking its way into her mouth.

Shaking, Buffy pants against Faith’s lips. One hand tangles in Faith’s hair, holding her where she wants her. She’s almost there, so close, when Faith’s breath hitches and she grits out a desperate sound. “You feel so good—I can’t—”

Seeing Faith obviously on the verge of coming herself pushes Buffy over. Her leg tightens around Faith, locking them together as she frantically rolls her hips. She breaks the kiss, her back arching and head rolling back. A cry spills from her throat as her whole body tenses and floods with pleasure.

Faith humps against her, once, twice more, and then she stiffens and groans, long and low, before slumping on top of Buffy. She’s deadweight, but Buffy doesn’t care. Her body slowly relaxes again, aided by Faith’s comforting warmth against her.

When Faith finally moves, she doesn’t go far. She shifts downward slightly, separating their hips and freeing her hand. Then she lays her head on Buffy’s chest, catching her breath.

Buffy leaves her arms wrapped around Faith, stroking her back. They’re quiet for a few minutes, breathing evening out. One of Faith’s hands is holding Buffy’s bicep, thumb brushing back and forth absently. 

She thinks about not asking Faith what happened earlier. They’ve both proven they’re not good at the talking thing. On the other hand, everything they just did… that felt different. It felt close. Maybe they can try the talking thing again. Raising her hand, Buffy smoothes Faith’s hair down her back. “What’d you see in the house?” She asks.

Faith doesn’t answer right away. Her hand tightens a tiny bit on Buffy’s arm. Eventually she says, “You died right in front of me. I tried but I couldn’t get to you quick enough.”

A flashbulb memory of Kendra, dead on the library floor, swims over Buffy’s eyes before she determinedly blinks it away. 

“I didn’t mean to jump you like that,” Faith says. “I just felt like—”

“Like what?” Buffy asks gently, when Faith doesn’t continue.

Faith’s eyelashes flutter against Buffy’s chest. After a moment she says, “Like I lost you, I guess, and I couldn’t shake that feeling.”

Buffy knows exactly how that can feel, that brush with death, the almost loss of someone you love. But wait. Faith doesn’t— 

“I don’t have a lot of people,” Faith continues. “There’s people I like or whatever, but it’s not like—I mean—they’re not that important. It’s really just… you.”

Buffy’s arm tightens around her.

Faith seems to realize what she’s saying might be misinterpreted. “You’re, uh, a really good friend.”

For some reason that stings. Buffy swallows it down. “With benefits,” she says lightly.

“The best kind,” Faith agrees. Her thumb resumes its gentle movements on Buffy’s arm. “That’s why I stayed here when the council pricks were on me about going to Cleveland.”

This is news to Buffy. “They wanted you to move? When? ”

Faith nods, her hair tickling Buffy’s bare skin. “Beginning of summer,” Faith says. 

“And you stayed because of me?” Buffy asks, confused. 

Faith shrugs.

“But we weren’t really—I mean we patrolled together but—” 

Faith doesn’t say anything, but she feels newly tense. Buffy gets the feeling that she might pull away if she doesn’t say the right thing.  

Tightening her arms around Faith’s back as if that could keep her here, Buffy says, “I’m glad.”

Faith relaxes slightly. “That hellmouth is way less active anyway,” she says, sounding nonchalant.

Buffy has a feeling that the strength of the hellmouth had no bearing on Faith’s decision. She feels really guilty. All this time, Faith seems to have wanted them to be closer, to be real friends. Buffy had no idea. “Hey,” she says, waiting until Faith tilts her head back and looks up at her. “You’re a really good friend, too.” 

Kissing Faith seems a little out of place after that statement, but Buffy does it anyway because she wants to—she always wants to. Faith doesn’t seem to find it weird. She reciprocates happily, her hand sliding up Buffy’s shoulder to her neck. Buffy focuses on her mouth and tucks her lingering questions about tonight away for later exploration. Right now, she has Faith where she wants her, and that’s all that matters. 

Chapter Nine

Prowling through the third floor of the library, Buffy peers through the glass doors to each meeting room. She receives a few confused and annoyed looks in response, finally finding the familiar blond mop of curls she’s looking for. Buffy stands on her tiptoes, waving through the glass until Shannon notices her, her eyes lighting up. She sees Shannon say something to her study group before starting to pack up her things.

Stepping back, Buffy only has to wait a minute before Shannon slips out the door, backpack tucked over one shoulder. She waves to Buffy with exaggerated excitement and comes to join her. “Hi!” She says, keeping her voice low for the benefit of the other library patrons. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve had all I can take of that today.” She hikes a thumb toward the room she just left.

“Which class is that for?”

“Women in Ancient Religions,” Shannon says. “Thought it would be right up my alley because, you know, women”—she waggles her eyebrows—“but it’s so boring. So what’s up? How was your weekend?”

Buffy looks around them. There are several long tables with students clustered around them, open books in front of them. She knows the meeting rooms are all full. “Not here,” she says. “Let’s find somewhere private.”

Shannon nods. “I got it. Follow me.”

They take the stairs up two additional floors, and Shannon turns left on the landing, leading her into the stacks. Buffy follows, noticing that the books they’re passing no longer have English words on their spines.

Reaching the back wall, Shannon drops her bag to the floor and sits down on the rug beside. She gestures for Buffy to do the same.

Sitting down cross legged, Buffy glances around them. “Are you sure no one’s going to hear us up here?”

Shannon waves her hand dismissively. “Totally. This is the German language and literature section. No one comes up here.”

As she finishes speaking, Buffy notices a tall man with an armful of books passing the end of the aisle.

He shoots them a dirty look. “Leck mich.”

“Sorry!” Shannon calls after him, shrugging. Once he’s out of sight, she turns her attention to Buffy. “Okay, now there’s really no one. Spill.”

Just in case, Buffy shuffles closer to her, until their knees brush. Then she spills her guts, giving Shannon the overview of Halloween night with Faith, with some slight modifications.

Shannon listens with rapt attention, her blue eyes trained on Buffy’s. When Buffy finishes speaking, Shannon says, “Okay, so clearly this situation has gotten away from you.”

Buffy winces. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Shannon gives her a pointed look.

“I mean I care about her,” Buffy clarifies, “but we’re friends. I’m supposed to care about her.”

“Uh huh,” Shannon says dryly, “and she definitely cares about you too.” Something about the way she says ‘cares’ makes it sound dirty.

Buffy blinks, confused.

“She had a nightmare that you died and it freaked her out to the extent that she couldn’t keep her hands off you,” Shannon says.

“Well yeah, but—”

“And then you guys did it, like, all sweet and tender, while a choir of baby angels sang in the background.”

Buffy rolls her eyes.

“And then she said she was thinking about moving but she stayed here for you,” Shannon continues. “No one stays in Sunnydale. Jenny Shimizu Herself”—she quickly crosses herself while speaking—“could ask me to stay here, and I’d be like, no can do, baby.”

“Jenny Shimizu?” Buffy asks.

“Alex and I watched Foxfire last week,” Shannon says breezily. “Very good, very gay, I’ll show you. Don’t change the subject. The point is: she’s into you.”

That gives Buffy pause. Could Faith actually have feelings for her?

“And I think you’re into her,” Shannon says, sounding a little gentler now.

Buffy looks at her friend, a little surprised. Buffy? Into Faith?

Sure, she likes hanging out with Faith even when they’re not having sex. She likes hearing her stories about the motel guests and whatever else happens to her during the day. Faith can make anything interesting, even if Buffy’s sure she’s embellishing half the time. And obviously the sexual chemistry is there. When Faith looks at her, Buffy feels like the sexiest person alive, which she can’t be because Faith actually is the sexist person alive. The sleepovers are pretty good too. It’s nice being in Faith’s bed with her, keeping the bed warm while Faith pads to the kitchen and gets them a glass of water before they fall asleep, and leaving her apartment in the morning, knowing they’ll see each other again in just a few hours. But the whole Gachnar fear hallucination aftermath isn’t that big of a deal, is it? She just wants Faith to be okay. It hurts to see her hurting, and if Buffy holding her makes it better, she wants to do that. But that’s just… that’s—oh no.

She likes Faith?

She has feelings for Faith?

Shannon reads everything on Buffy’s face. “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

Buffy thinks about the dead guy in the frat house basement echoing her own words back to her. Open your heart to someone and—

She shakes her head. “She’s not into relationships.”

“But you are, right?”

Buffy thinks about that. Her total relationships to date consist of the boyfriend at Hemery who dumped her by leaving a message on her answering machine, the boyfriend she sent to hell who later literally left town to get away from her, and the semi-boyfriend who dumped her when she wasn’t over the boyfriend she sent to hell. Maybe relationships are overrated. Plus, there’s another issue. “I’m not sure I’d be ready for that,” Buffy says. It’s at least somewhat true. “Nobody really knows—I mean, I haven’t come out. It’s just you guys who I’ve told.”

“You don’t have to throw a coming out party to be with her,” Shannon says, “as long as you’re on the same page.”

“I guess,” Buffy says. Shannon’s not wrong, but Buffy can’t even imagine bringing this up to Faith.

Shannon gives her a sympathetic look. “Look, I’m just—”

“Buffy?”

Buffy’s head snaps up. Willow is standing at the end of the aisle, looking at them with a little uncertainty.

“Will!” Buffy says, getting quickly to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying?” Willow says, lifting the book in her arm for emphasis.

“Right!” Buffy says. “Us too! This is Shannon. I told you about her, my friend from Poli Sci.” She looks at Shannon, who thankfully nods along. Buffy holds down a hand for Shannon to take, pulling her to her feet.

“Hi,” Willow says cheerfully, coming down the aisle to meet them. “I’m Willow, the best friend slash roommate. I like your sneakers.”

Shannon glances at her sneakers, which are white Converse with hand doodled rainbows all over them. “Thanks. I like your shirt.”

Willow beams. “Do you guys have a lot more to do? I was going to take a break for lunch, if you wanna go to the caf?”

Buffy glances at Shannon, who shrugs. “I could eat.”

“Great!” Buffy says, almost wincing at the amount of forced cheer in her own voice. “Me too! Let’s go.”

To Buffy’s surprise, lunch goes well, once she manages to stop being so paranoid. Shannon apparently took the same biology class her freshman year that Willow is currently enrolled in, and she gives her tips on the professor, who sounds somewhat insane from what Buffy can tell. When Willow asks about Shannon, Shannon launches into her latest interaction with Gym Girl (GG for short), which apparently consisted of GG rescuing her from an overly aggressive dude who kept trying to spot her. The introduction of this topic sends a spike of fear through Buffy, but Willow doesn’t seem fazed at all by Shannon’s immense crush on another girl. She laughs at the appropriate moments and asks follow up questions.

“So does GG have an actual name?”

“Not yet,” Shannon says. “I’m playing it cool.”

“By never asking her name?” Buffy asks.

Shannon rolls her eyes. “Names aren’t the important thing—we’ll get there—it’s about the chemistry.”

Willow says, “Names do tend to be attached to numbers though, which is kind of critical for dating.”

“Okay, okay,” Shannon says, “I’m getting there. You can’t rush this stuff. We gotta build up the foundation, you know? This time she rescued me from a gym bro, maybe next time she’ll offer to spot me… then I’ll ask.”

When Willow gets up to return her tray, Shannon shoots Buffy a self-satisfied look. “She seems cool. Very… accepting.”

Buffy kicks her under the table.

As Willow rejoins them, Shannon glances at her watch. “Ah crap, I gotta go, I told my roommate I’d go to her practice.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Willow says.

“Nice meeting you too!” Shannon grins at them both. “Keep this one, Buffy. I like her.”

“Planning on it,” Buffy says.

“I like her,” Willow says, as Shannon heads off. “She’s funny.” She turns to Buffy. “Feel like Bronzing tonight?”

“Are the Dingoes playing?”

Willow shakes her head. “Nah, but Oz wants to see the band that’s on tonight. I think they’re called Shy. Supposed to be pretty good.”

“Sure,” Buffy agrees, “sounds great.”

XXXXX

Buffy wakes up before her alarm, quickly resetting it so it won’t go off and disturb Willow. It’s Thursday morning, one of the days that Willow doesn’t have an early class, and Buffy knows she could use the rest. Oz has been gone almost two weeks, and she’s still crying most days. She’s kept up going to her classes, but everything else is complete chaos. Xander spent the first three nights after the breakup sleeping on their dorm room floor, and since then they’ve been tag teaming things to make sure Willow’s always got one of them to lean on. Turns out that being someone’s emotional rock through a breakup is actually pretty taxing. She doesn’t know how Willow did it for her, but since she did, Buffy’s determined to support her right back.

She slips out of bed, going to her desk and flicking on her monitor. Clicking on the icon for AIM, she finds a new IM from Faith. Just the sight of her screenname make Buffy feel a little bit giddy.

MoonBaby617: got a great idea

Buffy’s not sure when she sent it, but she checks her buddy list. Surprisingly, Faith is online in spite of the early hour.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: i’m almost afraid to ask

xxIcePrincess1681xx: BRB

Making sure the volume on her computer is turned all the way down, Buffy picks up her shower caddy and quietly slips out of the room. By the time she gets back from brushing her teeth and washing her face, Faith has responded.

MoonBaby617: ok i won’t tell you then

Smiling, Buffy quickly types back.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: tell me

MoonBaby617: Robbie ordered some A/C units that were supposed to be delivered, but she just called and asked me to go get them. the delivery truck broke down or something

MoonBaby617: you should come with me

xxIcePrincess1681xx: where is it?

MoonBaby617: up by Fresno

xxIcePrincess1681xx: scenic

MoonBaby617: wasn’t planning on doing much sightseeing

Buffy glances guiltily over her shoulder. With Willow back in their room every night, she hasn’t been able to stay at Faith’s, or have Faith stay with her. They’ve mostly seen each other on patrol. As much as Buffy enjoys just hanging out with Faith, she misses them being alone together. She wasn’t sure if Faith felt the same, but this IM is giving her a pretty big hint.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: what were you planning to do then

The reply is instantaneous.

MoonBaby617: you

Buffy grins.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: when do we leave?

MoonBaby617: can you skip class tomorrow? we can leave tonight and come back saturday

xxIcePrincess1681xx: Robbie’s gonna let you stay two nights? Fresno’s not that far

MoonBaby617: i’ll spring for the other night

She has two classes on Fridays. She probably shouldn’t skip. Plus, Willow really needs her support right now.

MoonBaby617: if that’s cool with you

On the other hand, she doesn’t have any tests and she doesn’t make a habit of skipping her classes. How much can one day really hurt? And she’s been totally devoted to Willow since Oz left—would it really so bad to take two nights for herself? She’s already sacrificed several nights she could have spent snuggled up with Faith, kissing her, working out their post-patrol energy together.

MoonBaby617: ?

 Minimizing their chat window, Buffy goes to her buddy list and clicks another name.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: are you busy tomorrow night or could you check on will and see if she wants to hang out?

She’s not surprised to get a quick auto response. Xander doesn’t go upstairs to use the computer until his parents have left for work. He’s probably still asleep.

OmegaRed22: ZzzZzzzzZ

Clicking back into her IM with Faith, Buffy responds.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: works for me. what time are you picking me up?

MoonBaby617: like 4?

xxIcePrincess1681xx: sounds good. gtg get ready for class. see you at 4 :)

MoonBaby617: k :)

Going once more to her buddy list, Buffy scrolls down until she finds another name.

xxIcePrincess1681xx: emergency mall trip?

RubyfruitLoop: I’m in

XXXXX

“So,” Shannon says, as they stand in front of the display window, “we’re buying lingerie you can show off for the girl who’s not your girlfriend because she’s taking you on a romantic getaway?”

“It’s Fresno,” Buffy says, “and it’s for work. This is in no way a romantic getaway.”

“And yet…” Shannon gestures at the scantily clad mannequins in front of them.

“Okay, you’re right,” Buffy says. “This is stupid, let’s go.”

Shannon snags her arm before Buffy can escape. “It’s not ‘stupid.’ That’s not what I said.” She turns Buffy back around to face the store. “I’m just pointing out that buying special lingerie seems like a relationship thing.”

“So then let’s go,” Buffy says, having made a mental 180 and decided this is a terrible idea. “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to make this something that it’s not.”

Shannon rolls her eyes. “If she hasn’t figured out by now that you two are dating, she’s never going to get it.”

Buffy opens her mouth to respond, but Shannon shushes her, pushing her in the direction of the store’s entrance. “I’m saying, talk to her after she takes the lingerie off you.”

“Well, I was hoping we wouldn’t be doing a lot of talking at that point,” Buffy begins.

“Buffy Summers,” Shannon says severely. “Get in the store. You’re impossible.”

Once in the store, Shannon asks, “What were you thinking of getting?”

Buffy looks at the sheer number of choices available to them and immediately becomes overwhelmed.

“Something baby doll?” Shannon asks, perusing the racks. “A teddy? You could always go with old faithful and get a garter belt and corset. Or if you want something slightly more casual, a cute cami set.” She looks over, noticing Buffy’s beginning to resemble a deer in headlights. “Uhh, do you want my help?”

Buffy nods. Help, yes. Help would be good.

Shannon comes back to stand in front of her, giving her a quick once over. “Garters are sexy but depending on which panties you wear, they can be kind of a pain. And corsets are good for keeping everything kind of tight and in shape, but you don’t really need that. I’d say go baby doll or get a teddy.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, feeling better already.

Shannon leads them further into the store, looking at the racks before she stops at one. “Do you like these?”

Buffy considers the baby doll cut items, most with matching panties. They’re cute, but they feel a little too… something. Even though they’re sheer, they have longer length and the shape of them doesn’t appeal to her. She makes an unimpressed face.

“Moving on,” Shannon says. She heads in the opposite direction until they’re facing a wall of bodysuits. There’s a variety of different neck lines and colors. Some of them are sheer, some lacy, some with frills around the edges. They come with push up cups and underwire, or no support at all. Buffy studies them carefully, finally picking one up. It’s black with sheer panels on the sides and a lace front. There are no bra cups, but that’s fine. She likes the simplicity.

“Good one,” Shannon says from behind her.

Buffy turns to find her holding three other options. Shannon thrusts them at her. “Dressing room,” she says.

Trying the pieces on is a bit embarrassing. It’s strange, seeing herself dressed up like this. Imagining Faith’s face when she sees Buffy wearing one of these though… that’s good. She saves the one she chose for herself for last. It looks okay, about the same as the others. Buffy turns in the mirror, looking at herself from all angles. That’s when she notices that this teddy has one unique feature that the others didn’t, one that she thinks Faith will very much like.

Confident now, Buffy gingerly strips the bodysuit off. She attaches it back to its hanger and then gets dressed.

Outside, Shannon asks, “Any winners?”

Buffy holds the black teddy up, her face a bit pink.

“Amazing,” Shannon says. As they walk up to the register, she sidles closer and says, “She’s going to cream her pants when she sees you in this.”

“Oh my God,” Buffy whispers back, looking around frantically. When no one can be found in hearing range, she looks at Shannon’s grinning face and begrudgingly says, “Thanks.”

Buffy’s face is beet red by the time they leave the store, a discreet paper bag clutched in her hand.  

XXXXX

Buffy’s standing in front of her dorm with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder when Faith pulls up. A grin breaks across her face when she sees Faith coasting to the curb, and she hurries to the passenger side, tossing her bag into the backseat. “Hi!” She says, climbing in.

Faith’s been looking forward to this all day, and she’s so happy to see Buffy that it’s borderline embarrassing. “Hey,” she says, maintaining at least a little bit of her cool. “All set?”

“Yeah,” Buffy confirms, buckling her seatbelt.

“Red ask a lot of questions?” Faith pulls away from the curb, quickly cutting a U-turn in the empty road and headed for the exit from campus.

“Surprisingly no,” Buffy says, frowning. “I think she’s going to be okay though. She’s going to the library tonight, and then she’s going to hang with Xander tomorrow after class.”

“Good,” Faith says, meaning it. The whole Oz thing is a real downer, and not just because Faith hasn’t gotten laid in almost two weeks now. She feels bad for them both. Willow’s hurting, but she gets where Oz is coming from too. Glancing over at Buffy, she says, “You guys have been spending a lot of time together.”

Buffy nods. “I kind of didn’t want to leave her alone after the whole ‘Spike coming to our room and trying to kill her’ thing.”

“Willow in your room all the time though…” Faith says thoughtfully. “Must make it hard to blow off any steam after patrol.”

Perking one eyebrow, Buffy turns in her seat so she’s facing Faith. “Depends what you mean by ‘blowing off steam.’”

“You know what I mean,” Faith says with a wide smile.

“I’m just curious, are you ever not thinking about sex?” Buffy asks, her tone making it obvious she’s only teasing. 

“When I haven’t gotten any in weeks?” Faith answers. “Nope.” 

For some reason, that seems to please Buffy. “So you haven’t been blowing off much steam either.”

“Oh, I have,” Faith says, “just by myself. Doesn’t really compare.”

Buffy smirks. “Tell me the truth. Are we even going to pick up air conditioners, or is this all an elaborate ploy to kidnap me and have your way with me?”

“You got me,” Faith says. “I’m just taking you back to my place.”

Laughing, Buffy says, “I wouldn’t complain.”

“Yeah?” Faith asks. “If you’re that hard up, I could find a place to pull over.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy says, “I think I’ll live until we get there.” She reaches for the radio, turning the volume up a tiny bit and starting to search for a good station.

“Got some CDs and the discman in the glovebox,” Faith says.

“This is good,” Buffy says, settling on a generic top 40 station.

Personally, Faith would prefer something with a little more bite, but she allows it. It’s a warm enough day for November (although Buffy, native SoCal girl that she is, is wearing a jacket) so Faith cracks Joanne’s windows and steers them toward the coast.

They take the Pacific Coast Highway, the endless expanse of the ocean to their left as the road disappears under their tires. The ruggedness of the Gaviota coast gives way to miles of green brown emptiness on all sides, and they pass the time talking and bickering over which CDs meet Buffy’s expectations once the radio stations go fuzzy. By the time they pass Lompoc, Faith can hear Buffy’s stomach rumbling. Hers isn’t too far behind, so they detour east to Santa Maria and tuck into a corner booth at a tavern called Shaw’s that’s bustling with locals. Sitting across from Buffy, watching her eat enough barbecue to make Faith question her decision to offer to pay, Faith can’t fight the smile that seems to want to take up permanent residence on her face.

By the time they leave, it’s getting dark, which is just as well because they curve further inland, the freeway splitting darkened farmlands on either side. They cut through Los Padres National Forest and pass into the desert, stopping to pee at a hole-in-the-wall town boasting a population of 967 souls and one McDonalds for all of them. From there it’s a straight shot up the 41 to Fresno.

Shortly before midnight, they lie sideways across the king bed in the modest hotel room Faith booked for them, the duvet violently wrenched back and the pillows flung free. Their bags are discarded by the door to the room, the clothes they were wearing littering the space between the door and the bed. Some of Faith’s hair is trapped under Buffy’s shoulder, tugging uncomfortably, and she’s definitely lying in a wet spot, but she can’t bring herself to move.

“Is it just me or did we used to have a blanket?” Buffy asks, trying to burrow closer into Faith’s side.

“It’s down there somewhere.” Faith gestures vaguely toward the foot of the bed, where the duvet has half collapsed over the edge. “Want me to get it?”

Buffy’s arm creeps across her stomach. “No. No moving. I’ll just siphon off your body heat.”

Faith’s plenty warm, her skin still tingling pleasantly from the third orgasm Buffy’s just finished giving her. She rubs her hand up and down Buffy’s back to warm her up. “You saying I have a hot bod?” She drawls.

“Thought I said that by jumping you as soon as we walked in the door,” Buffy says. “Actions speak louder than words and all.”

“Sometimes a girl likes words too,” Faith says. She’s almost entirely joking, but Buffy’s eyes open immediately. She tilts her head back so she can see Faith’s face.

The way Buffy’s looking at her makes Faith want to wiggle free and change the subject, but before she can, Buffy’s hand rises to her cheek.

“Your body is incredible,” Buffy says plainly, “and you’re hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, now you’re just blowing smoke up—”

“I think you’re prettiest like you are right now,” Buffy continues, steamrolling right over Faith’s attempt at interrupting her, “when your hair’s all messy, and your face is pink, and you look really happy. I like seeing you like this.” Her thumb strokes Faith’s cheek lightly.

That’s actually really sweet, and Faith can’t quite bring herself to shut Buffy down with something sarcastic. She clears her throat. “I am really happy.”

“Good.”

“Are you?” Faith asks. “Happy, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. She lets her hand drift back down to Faith’s chest, lying over her breastbone. “I gotta say, I’m liking Fresno so far.”

Snickering, Faith asks, “You’ve never been before?”

“We probably drove through. We used to go to San Francisco a few times a year when my parents were together. What about you?”

“Up here?” Faith asks. “Nah.”

Buffy’s quiet a minute, then she says, “I thought maybe you made it up here one of the times you were away last year.”

Faith’s momentarily confused. “When was I away?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, “just sometimes I’d go by the motel and you wouldn’t be there, and I didn’t see you on patrol. I thought you were out of town.”

“Oh,” Faith says, “uh, yeah, I guess I went to LA a few times. Just got kinda bored in SunnyD, you know, sitting around.”

Wincing, Buffy says, “I should’ve been better about including you in stuff.”

Faith’s not going to tell her not to worry about it. Coming to Sunnydale and expecting to fall in with the only other slayer in the world and then getting the rude awakening that Buffy very much didn’t need her and very much wasn’t looking for any new recruits to her little gang had really sucked. Instead, she says, “Well, now I can’t get rid of you, so you’re making up for lost time.” She punctuates that with a kiss to the top of Buffy’s head so she’ll know Faith’s joking.

“Hey.” Buffy pokes her side. “You don’t want to get rid of me. You invited me to come with you here.”

“I had an ulterior motive,” Faith says. When Buffy looks at her expectantly, she says, “I need someone to help me carry the air conditioners.”

“The truth comes out.” With a long suffering sigh, Buffy disentangles herself from Faith. “I’m going to put my pjs on.”

“I’ll fix the bed.”

“Thanks.”

Faith takes her turn in the small bathroom once Buffy’s done brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed. She comes out to find Buffy sitting up, her back against the headboard, rubbing lotion into her bare legs. The TV is on low, and Conan O’Brien is just starting.

As soon as Faith sits on the opposite side of the bed, she can tell that Buffy’s thinking about something. She’s methodically applying her lotion, but her eyes drift to Faith several times. She seems a little tense. Faith keeps her eyes on the TV, letting Buffy get there in her own time.

“I’ve been thinking,” Buffy says eventually. Her voice has a forced nonchalance that immediately catches Faith’s attention.

Faith looks over.

Setting the lotion aside, Buffy says, “I want to try something.” It takes her an extra beat to finish her thought. “In bed.”

This is unexpected. “Oooh,” Faith says, raising her eyebrows. She angles toward Buffy. “What is it? Roleplay? Toys? Spanking?”

Buffy’s face goes a deep shade of tomato. “No,” she says quickly. Then, “And yes, and maybe? But that’s not what I was going to say.”

A yes on toys and a maybe on spanking still gives her a few things to work with. She’s ‘take it or leave it’ on roleplaying anyway. Filing this information away for later, Faith asks, “Then what?”

Buffy looks more embarrassed now. It’s adorable, and Faith’s tempted to keep teasing her, but she also knows it’s hard for Buffy to talk about this kind of thing. She softens her tone and reaches over, laying her hand on Buffy’s arm. “Hey,” she says, squeezing, “I’m not gonna judge you. Just tell me.”

“It’s not anything like that,” Buffy says, making it sound as if Faith’s suggestions are the absolute height of debauchery instead of rather tame.

“So what is it?”

Eyes fixed on her own hands, Buffy says, “Oral sex?” Her voice is practically a squeak.

“Oh,” Faith says, surprised. She immediately feels like a dick. They’ve been sleeping together for months, and she apparently hasn’t been giving Buffy something she wants. 

“We don’t have to,” Buffy starts immediately, finally looking at Faith. “I just wondered what it was like—”

Faith reaches over, practically yanking Buffy into her lap. She winds her arm around Buffy’s hips, settling her palm on her thigh in spite of the faint dampness from her lotion. Looking up into Buffy’s eyes, Faith says as emphatically as she can, “I’d love to eat your pussy.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, her chin tilting down as a shy smile plays across her mouth. “Okay.” She wraps an arm around Faith’s shoulders, snuggling more comfortably in her lap.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Faith laces her fingers with Buffy’s, squeezing lightly. “You realize that you’re ridiculously hot, right? The entire campus would line up to go down on you.”

“Shut up,” Buffy says, but she’s smiling. 

Faith grins, kissing Buffy’s neck softly. Leaning into it, Buffy sighs happily, her fingers winding in Faith’s hair. 

After a minute, Faith says, “If there’s anything else you wanna do, anything you want me to do to you, you can always ask me.”

Buffy nods, looking a little uncertain. She rubs Faith’s knuckles with her thumb. It sounds like it takes some effort, but she says, “I want to go down on you too.”

That gives Faith pause just for a second. It’s not like she’s never gotten head before, but it’s never been the most satisfying experience. It’s Buffy though. If she wants to try… “Yeah,” Faith says, “okay.”

Buffy frowns, having picked up on her slight hesitation. “You can say no.”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Yeah, but you don’t sound like you want to.”

“It’s not like that.” Faith’s free hand strokes Buffy’s hip. “I’m just not sure I’ll be able to come.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, and now she looks more embarrassed than before.

It takes Faith a moment to figure out why, and then she mentally kicks herself. “Not because of you,” she says quickly. “It just doesn’t usually work for me. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, but she does look disappointed.

This is really coming out all wrong. Trying to salvage things, Faith gently grips her chin and lifts until Buffy’s meeting her eyes. “Buffy,” she says firmly, “I want you to go down on me. If it’s not working for me, I’ll tell you. If you don’t like doing it, you’ll tell me. Right?”

Buffy nods.

“And if you don’t like it when I do it, you’ll tell me.”

Buffy nods again.

“So, we’re both going to try it and we’re both going to find out if we like it, and if we don’t, we’re already really good at getting each other off.”

There’s a faint hint of a smile at that.

“So, are you going to give me head or do I have to beg you?”

The smile becomes a little wider. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Good,” Faith says. “Thank you.”

Buffy gives her a sweet smile. “That’s what you’re gonna be saying when I’m done.”

Faith whistles, absolutely delighted by Buffy’s posturing. “Big talk,” she says, releasing Buffy’s chin.

Brushing her mouth across Faith’s, Buffy says, “Just channeling my inner Faith.”

“So you’re saying I’m cocky.” Faith toys with the ends of Buffy’s long hair.

“Just a little,” Buffy says, “but it’s warranted. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Faith repeats. “Sounds like you’re angling for me to show you how warranted it is.”

When Buffy merely grins, Faith takes her waist and flips them both over so she’s on top. Time to give Buffy a little reminder of her skills.

Chapter Ten

Faith leads Buffy down the street, eyes peeled for the red awning that will signal that they’ve arrived at their destination. Beside her, Buffy asks, “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Faith says, not for the first time.

Buffy huffs in annoyance just as Faith spots what she’s looking for. The building is small and nondescript save for the red awning and little rainbow decal in the window.

“Okay,” Faith says, slowing and shuffling off the sidewalk so they’re against the building next door to their destination. “You’re gonna need this.” She reaches in her pocket, pulling out a California driver’s license.

Accepting it, Buffy frowns. “Heather Miller?” She reads. “Is this a fake ID? Where are we going?” She peers at it a little closer. “This looks nothing like me!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Faith says, taking Buffy’s elbow and propelling her forward. She’s opening the door to the bar before Buffy can mount much of a protest.

A bored looking bouncer sits on a stool just inside the vestibule. He holds out his hand expectantly.

When Buffy hesitates, Faith plucks the ID from her fingers and hands it over. As he gives it a once-over, looking back at Buffy’s obviously nervous face, Faith fishes her own ID out. They’re not exactly fake. Heather Miller and Amanda Davis are a few years older than them and licensed to drive in the great state of California. Faith paid a pretty penny for not only the two IDs, but the slight glamor cast on them.

Not smiling, the bouncer hands them back and urges them along with a grunt and a toss of his head.

Once they’re in the bar, Buffy gives Faith a confused look.

“Magic,” Faith says with a shrug.

“Oh,” Buffy says, understanding dawning on her. Tucking the ID back in her pocket, she looks around the room. Faith sees the exact moment when Buffy realizes where she’s been taken, because her eyes widen and she looks at Faith in surprise. “Is this a lesbian bar?”

“Technically it’s a gay bar, but they do ladies night once a month,” Faith says. “Thought it might be fun.”

Buffy nods but she looks a bit nervous.

“You want a drink?” Faith asks, putting her hand on the small of Buffy’s back and steering her toward the bar lining the back wall.

“I guess it can’t go worse than last time,” Buffy says as they walk.

“Last time?”

Buffy nods. “It was a frat party. The drinks came with special party favors. One free roofie per purchase.”

“Oh,” Faith says, her stomach feeling like it’s turning to stone.

“It was a ritual sacrifice thing,” Buffy says, looking over.

“Oh,” Faith says again, relieved now. Ritual sacrifice is just another Tuesday for them. “We can just get you a coke?” She drops her hand as they reach the bar, and Buffy rests her elbows on its smooth surface.

“Nah,” Buffy says, “I’ll get something. You’re here, so I think I’m pretty safe.”

She says it in an offhand way, but for some reason, Faith feels a little warm. “Yeah,” she says, nudging Buffy’s shoulder with hers, “I’ll protect you.”

The bar’s slowly starting to fill, and they patiently wait their turn while the bartender serves people at the opposite end of the counter. While they wait, Faith surreptitiously keeps an eye on Buffy, partly to make sure she’s doing okay, and partly because Faith just likes looking at her. She’s wearing a tight off-the-shoulder top, and the way it’s hugging her tits makes it hard to look elsewhere. Faith manages, but she only makes it as far as the stretch of fabric around Buffy’s shoulder before she starts imagining sinking her teeth into the soft skin there and the little noise Buffy would make if she did.

They’ve been together all day, getting breakfast, picking up the units Robbie wanted, and then tooling around the city. It’s been good, hanging out with Buffy, making her laugh, teasing her, but by now Faith’s itching to touch her. She’s sure it’s because they’ve hardly seen each other lately. Last night wasn’t enough to get her fill, that’s all. Plus there’s that damned shirt.

To keep her hands to herself, Faith looks away, checking out the room. There’s a good mixture of people around their age and quite a few older, mostly women who are butch, femme, and everything in between. Directly opposite them, there’s a group clustered around a table, laughing together and looking well on their way to a good time, if the empty glasses on their table are any indication. One of them is looking Faith’s way, and Faith gives her a look back. Dark hair streaked with blue frames a pretty face. Generous tits strain against the confines of her tight tank top, and a full sleeve is tattooed on one arm, the other partially done. She smiles, cocking her head slightly in invitation. 

Before Faith can respond, she hears a voice from Buffy’s opposite side. “Hi, how’s your night?”

She turns to find a stranger next to Buffy, a bit taller than both of them, and Faith immediately sizes her up. She’s got warm, deep set eyes with an angular face and a tentative smile. One hand is tucked into her jeans pocket, the rise of her shoulder making it clear she’s feeling a little out of her comfort zone. Cute, in a tomboyish way, and too obviously nervous to pose much of a threat to Buffy’s comfort or safety. Faith relaxes slightly.

“Not bad,” Buffy says, “how about yours?”

“Not bad either.” The stranger holds out a hand. “I’m Andi.”

“Buffy,” Buffy says, taking it. “Nice to meet you.”

Faith tries not to look like she’s eavesdropping on this or interfering. She decided to take Buffy to a gay bar—it’s not like no one in the place was going to notice how hot she is and try to talk to her. Faith just kind of hoped Buffy wouldn’t be interested in talking back. They’re not on a date or anything, but they did come together and they’re going back to the hotel together, so it just makes sense to stick together and not chat up strangers. When is the fucking bartender going to take their order?

Andi says, “Can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a moment of quiet in which Faith deliberately looks away, and then, Buffy says, “Oh, I—um?” She looks over her shoulder at Faith, strongly resembling a deer in headlights.

Faith meets her eyes then, resisting the urge to smile. She could put an arm around Buffy, make it clear she’s spoken for. That’s not really the case, but if Buffy wants her to pretend it is, Faith’s more than happy to play along. Leaning over Buffy’s shoulder just a bit, Faith says, “You gonna buy me a drink too?”

“Oh!” Andi says, visibly embarrassed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were together.” Neither of them correct her, and she takes a step back. “I’m just by myself and I thought you looked like you were too and—yes, definitely, drinks for you both!”

When they find an unoccupied table and sit down together, Andi seems content to make conversation with them both. There’s no hint of interest toward Buffy now that she thinks they’re together. “I just transferred to Cal State Fresno, and I know like, no one,” she tells them.

“I’m at UC Sunnydale,” Buffy says, “and I totally get it. It’s intimidating, moving somewhere new, not knowing anyone. Where did you transfer from?”

“I did two years of community back in Arkansas,” Andi says.

“That’s a huge move!” Buffy says. Her vodka cranberry is half drained and seems to have loosened her up a bit. “Faith did a cross country move, too.”

“For school?” Andi asks.

Faith shakes her head, unsure why Buffy brought this up. She can’t exactly share the details of her move. “I had, uh, a death in my family, so I had to move.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Andi says quickly.

The conversation moves on. Faith chimes in occasionally, but mostly she listens and she observes. By the time they’ve finished their first round, Buffy’s smiling and laughing with Andi. She looks like she’s having a good time, which was Faith’s main motivation in bringing her here, so Faith tamps down the little voice in her head that wants to complain. She’s supposed to be having fun with me. Faith gets two more rounds for the three of them before Andi wishes them a nice night and takes her leave.

She’s a nice chick, but Faith’s not sorry to see her go, especially when Buffy turns her attention fully to Faith. She’s just a little tipsy now, her slayer metabolism making quick work of the alcohol she’s consumed.

“This was a good idea,” Buffy says, smiling at her.

“Yeah?” Faith asks. “Better than the time you were almost ritually sacrificed?”

“Definitely,” Buffy says. “Plus, Malibu?”—she hefts her glass for emphasis—“Yummy.”

So far, Faith’s only gotten her drinks that taste like candy. The strategy seems to be paying off. “You can keep the ID,” she says. “They have Malibu at the Bronze too.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, “but this is better.” She shrugs, sipping her drink. “It’s nice being around other people who are like us.”

It’s the first time Buffy’s really hinted at her sexuality being something other than straight with a side of slayer, and Faith’s a little surprised to hear her say it. “‘Us?’” She asks.

Buffy’s words seem to catch up to her at the same time. Looking a little hesitant, she nods. “Yeah. I think I’m officially bi.” She lets out a deep breath when she finishes.

Faith leans closer, clinking her glass to Buffy’s. “Nice,” she says sincerely.

Buffy smiles, the hesitation in her face fading away. “Yeah.”

They both sip from their drinks. Faith asks, “So if you weren’t stuck with me, and Andi came up to you at the bar, would you have let her buy you a drink?”

“I’m not stuck with you,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

“That sounds like a yes,” Faith says dryly.

“It’s a maybe,” Buffy says. “She’s cute, but I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Faith asks, running her fingers through the condensation on her glass while she waits for Buffy’s answer.

Buffy thinks about that. “I don’t know if I want to meet anyone,” she says finally. “I’m good right now, you know?”

Faith can’t argue with that. Buffy meeting someone would most likely put an end to the two of them hooking up, and would probably cut way into the time they spend together. Faith doesn’t really want her to meet anyone either.

“What about you?” Buffy asks.

“What about me?”

“Do you want to meet someone?”

Faith shrugs. It’s not something she really thinks about. Dating, relationships… none of that’s ever appealed to her. She likes doing what she wants when she wants, with nobody to tell her what to do.

“Looks like someone wants to meet you,” Buffy says. She’s looking at something past Faith’s shoulder, and she frowns a little.  

Giving it a few seconds, Faith glances away, easily spotting the girl from earlier. Her hair is pulled up now, blue streaks still showing in her ponytail. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the drink in her hand, and she’s definitely looking directly at Faith.

Faith turns back, smirking a little.

“Bold,” Buffy says.

Something about her tone piques Faith’s interest. She swirls the ice cubes in her glass before she takes another drink.  Then she asks, “Is it bothering you?”

Buffy hesitates a second before she says, “We could be together. She doesn’t know.”

That sounds suspiciously like jealousy in Buffy’s voice. It’s not exactly what you expect from your friend with benefits, but it gives Faith a little lick of satisfaction. She spent almost a year feeling jealous both of Buffy and of all the people in her life who she preferred to Faith. It’s nice to be the wanted one now. And she doesn’t really blame Buffy—tonight was supposed to be for them to hang out—but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a little fun with it. “Kiss me then,” Faith says easily.

Kissing in public, kissing outside of the moments when they’re taking each other’s clothes off, is against their unwritten rules, and Buffy looks surprised. “Kiss you?”

Faith leans back in her chair a little, giving Buffy an appraising look. “You want her to stop looking, right? Want her to know she doesn’t have a shot?”

She can see Buffy reading her body language. It’s a challenge, a game. Faith will bend the rules if Buffy will, if she’s willing to let everybody in the bar see her do it.

“You sure you want me to ruin your chances with her?” Buffy asks—pushing her back. She raises one eyebrow. “She’s pretty.”

“Well,” Faith says, grinning, “if you want me to go talk to her, I—”

Buffy’s hand fists in the front of her shirt and yanks her into a hard kiss.

There are zero complaints from Faith. She lets Buffy kiss her, opening her mouth to the insistent press of Buffy’s tongue. She’s surprised when Buffy moves out of her chair to slide onto Faith’s lap, but she goes with it, tilting her chin up to hold the contact between them.

A little jealousy is pretty hot on Buffy, Faith thinks, wrapping an arm around Buffy’s waist.

“Think she gets it yet?” Buffy asks, her voice a little breathless against Faith’s ear.

“Not yet,” Faith says without so much as looking at her secret admirer. She wants Buffy to stay sitting on her lap. She wants everyone in the place to get the point that Buffy’s with her. Faith isn’t the only one who’s been getting attention tonight, whether Buffy realizes that or not.

Buffy’s hand is in her hair. Her mouth is tart and sweet, cranberry and coconut and knowing just the way Faith likes to be kissed. Over the sounds of music and people and glasses clinking, Buffy’s thudding heartbeat is the loudest thing she hears. Her free hand traces the edge of Faith’s low cut shirt with one finger, and Buffy says, “Maybe we should get out of here then.”

The rule about them keeping their hands to themselves unless they’re behind closed doors is probably a good one, if the ride back to the hotel is any indication. Faith’s fine to drive, not even buzzed thanks to her slayer metabolism, but Buffy leaned across the console, her hand high on Faith’s thigh, mouthing at the side of Faith’s neck, presents an entirely different kind of hazard. Faith manages to get them to the hotel parking lot, but only after pressing Buffy back into her seat with a hand on her chest and a very severe look.

She expects them to pick up where they left off the moment the door is latched behind them. But while Faith’s divesting herself of her jacket and shoes, Buffy mysteriously disappears into the bathroom, promising to be right back. Faith takes the opportunity to remove her jewelry, setting it on the desktop for safekeeping. Opening the mini fridge, she takes out one of the bottles of water they’d stashed upon their arrival. She’s midway through the bottle when she hears the soft click of the bathroom door opening again. “You okay?” Faith asks as she turns around.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says. She’s standing in the doorway barefoot, a thin robe belted around her waist, the hem high on her thighs.

Faith caps the water and puts it aside, leaning against the desk. “We putting our pjs on?” She asks, although Buffy’s face doesn’t exactly say getting ready to sleep.

Buffy pads across the room, stopping in front of her. “Yeah,” she says, finding the button to Faith’s jeans. “Let me help you get out of these clothes first.” Her fingers pop the button free of its home. As she slides the zipper down, her hand lingers. Her fingertips brush the front of Faith’s underwear, igniting a pleasant little tingle in her stomach.

The robe is soft when Faith pulls Buffy in closer. Faith can feel straps and seams through the fabric—Buffy’s apparently not naked underneath. She’s curious, but it seems like Buffy has something in mind, so Faith follows her lead.

Her jeans are pushed down her hips, and Faith wiggles free of them, letting them pool around her feet before she steps out. Her shirt follows, Buffy’s hands replacing its weight on her skin, warm and soft as she maneuvers Faith away from the desk and toward the bed.

Faith lets herself be nudged until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, Buffy standing between her knees. Her hands find Buffy’s legs, skimming up her thighs until they’re under the hem of her robe. All she finds is more soft, smooth skin. No hint at what’s underneath.

Buffy leans closer, and Faith tilts her chin up to kiss her. It’s slower now, less demanding than when they were out. They’re no longer performing, no longer playing. Faith tugs lightly at the belt to her robe.

When Buffy doesn’t protest, but just keeps kissing her, Faith unties it, letting the robe fall open. She slides her hands inside, feeling lace and mesh stretched across Buffy’s skin. Eager now to see what Buffy’s actually wearing, Faith pulls back from Buffy’s lips so she can see her better. “Jesus,” she murmurs when she gets a good look.

The robe has slid from one of her shoulders, still draped on the other, but underneath that, Buffy’s wearing a lacy one-piece garment, more see-through than not, with small cutouts running down the center, displaying little glimpses of her skin between the lace. The bodice is cut wide, showing off the shape of her tits. The lace does little to disguise the rosy shade of her nipples, rising at the sudden exposure to cooler air.

“Do you like it?” Buffy asks softly.

Managing to drag her eyes from Buffy’s chest up to her face, Faith finds her smiling almost shyly. As often as they’ve been together now, there are still times when Buffy seems uncertain like this. “You look fucking incredible,” Faith says easily, and Buffy’s smile widens. “This, uh, new?”

Buffy nods.

Faith doesn’t know why she asked. Of course it’s new. Of course she bought it for this trip, for Faith. Her stomach feels a little fluttery about that. Faith’s not a stranger to playing dress up in the bedroom. She’s done it more than once, but no one’s ever done it for her. The idea of Buffy wanting to dress up for her, going and picking something out, and wanting to make sure she could wear it for Faith tonight… it makes her feel weirdly touched. Something must show in her face, because Buffy touches her cheek, giving her a questioning look.

Pushing that weird feeling down, Faith says, “Turn around, let me see you.”

Buffy looks pleased at this request. She takes a step away, letting the robe drop from her shoulders to the floor.

Without the robe, the getup is even sexier. Faith isn’t even sure where to look— her amazing tits, the muscles of her stomach just barely peeking through the lace, the cut of the bodysuit on her hips… Then she turns and Faith gets a good look at the back, more specifically the fabric not quite covering Buffy's ass. “I’m almost sad I’m gonna have to take it off you,” Faith says, her voice not quite steady.

Turning back to face her, Buffy gives her a coy look. “You could leave it on.”

“I could,” Faith says, “but it’s gonna hinder me just a little.” She lets her gaze trail down Buffy’s body suggestively.

“Maybe not,” Buffy says. When Faith glances back up, her cheeks are a little pink. “See this little bow?” She points to a delicate looking bow south of her navel.

Faith nods.

“Untie it,” Buffy says, stopping in front of her again.

Gingerly, Faith tugs the ends of the small bow so it’s untied, and— 

“Fuck.”

Buffy grins, swaying her hips back and forth. “Thought you’d like that.”

Now that the bow is released, she can see that Buffy’s little outfit is crotchless.

“I like it.” Faith slides her hand between Buffy’s legs, cupping her pussy without the impediment of fabric in the way. “I like it a lot,” she says, as Buffy gasps and reaches for Faith’s shoulders to steady herself.

Faith circles her waist with her free arm, pulling Buffy closer. The thin fabric covering Buffy’s tits is just a little scratchy when Faith nuzzles her face against it. She finds one of Buffy’s nipples, closing her lips around it, lace and all.

Buffy groans, her hand tangling in Faith’s hair and squeezing the back of her neck. Her grip tightens when Faith drags a finger up her slit. “Mmm—I—”

Faith shifts, snaking a finger inside her—

“Faith,” Buffy pants, “wait.”

Wait? Faith extracts her hand immediately, leaning away so she can see Buffy’s face. “Did I hurt—“

“No,” Buffy says quickly. “No. Just—not yet?” She looks a little embarrassed, but she meets Faith’s eyes. “I wanna touch you first.”

Relieved, Faith settles her hand on Buffy’s hip instead. “Okay.”

Toying with the strap of Faith’s bra, Buffy says, “It’s all I’ve been thinking about all night. That shirt you had on…”

Driving Buffy crazy had sort of been the intent of the very tight, very low cut shirt she’d worn to the bar. Faith grins.

Buffy’s lips form a pout when she notices. “So you were trying to tease me.”

“Is it really a tease if I’m gonna let you do anything you want to me?” Faith asks, her thumbs rubbing circles against Buffy’s stomach.

“Anything I want?” Buffy asks, pushing the straps of Faith’s bra off her shoulders.

“Within reason,” Faith says. She doubts Buffy’s going to break out any really kinky requests, but it’s best to be prepared.

Reaching behind her, Buffy unhooks Faith’s bra. It slides down Faith’s arms, baring her tits to Buffy’s view. “I’m reasonable,” Buffy says, grasping the drooping fabric and gently tugging it free. She tosses it aside.

“Then…” Faith gestures at herself as if to say have at it.

Buffy does. She manhandles Faith backward onto the bed, climbing on top of her before she can even get herself situated.  Her weight pins Faith to the mattress, her mouth already finding the side of Faith’s neck.

As Faith rolls her head to give her easier access, Buffy’s busy sandwiching her leg between Faith’s. Faith’s still wearing panties, but they do nothing to blunt the feeling of Buffy’s thigh rubbing against her. The pressure focuses her attention between her legs, on the aching she’s been ignoring until now.

“I want you so much,” Buffy murmurs, her lips brushing Faith’s neck. “Don’t know how we even made it back here, I wanted to fuck you in the backseat.”

Faith’s cunt has some thoughts about that idea, clenching almost painfully hard. She grunts against Buffy’s shoulder, letting her fingers dig into Buffy’s back.

“You would have let me?” Buffy guesses before dragging the tip of her tongue up the side of Faith’s throat.

Faith would have gone for that enthusiastically. She’d let Buffy do anything she wanted as long as that thing involved the two of them fucking. “Uh huh,” she agrees, tilting her hips up for more contact.

It seems like Buffy’s learned that Faith really likes the sound of her voice, because she keeps going. “I missed the way you feel,” she says, starting to rock her hips to increase the friction between them. “I had like three dreams about you last week.”

“What’d you dream?” Faith asks, her voice breathless.

Buffy’s hand moves between them, palming Faith’s tit. “I dreamed we were slaying. When we were done, I couldn’t wait until we got home. There was a crypt—you know that big one in Restfield?” She covers Faith’s nipple, the motion of her body rubbing her fingers up and down.

Faith moans something that she thinks sounds affirmative.

“I laid you out on the bench in there”—she captures Faith’s earlobe in her teeth, biting lightly before she lets go—“got on my knees”—Buffy lets her voice go soft and a little breathy—“and started licking you.”

Delicious heat is beginning to build inside her, radiating outward. Faith grits her teeth, trying not to get swept away by the feeling. “That’s what got you thinking about oral?”

“No,” Buffy says, kissing along Faith’s jaw now. She nuzzles her nose into Faith’s neck before she continues and Jesus Christ why does even that feel so good?  “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” She squeezes Faith’s nipple now, and an embarrassingly high sound leaves Faith’s mouth. “Thinking about how you’ll taste… how you’ll feel on my tongue.”

Faith’s hips roll upward on their own, her thighs squeezing around Buffy’s.

“Thinking about that while I make myself come,” Buffy adds.

Faith’s rapidly reaching the end of her rope. She was already pretty on board with the whole Buffy giving her head thing, but hearing her talk about it, hearing how much Buffy wants to do it—Faith wants her to do it right fucking now.

She threads her fingers into Buffy’s hair, tugging back so Buffy raises her chin. Claiming Buffy’s mouth, Faith kisses her roughly.

Responding with equal ferocity, Buffy sinks her teeth into Faith’s bottom lip before her tongue soothes the sting away. Her breath is as quick as Faith’s, and her leg pushes more insistently against Faith’s pussy.

Faith whines into the kiss, needing more. The hand on Buffy’s back squeezes, trying to communicate what she wants without saying it.

Buffy takes her unsubtle hint but does the opposite of what Faith wants, sliding her thigh away. Sticky and uncomfortable, Faith groans a complaint, but Buffy ignores that, sitting up.  

Running her hands down Faith’s chest, Buffy makes her way over her stomach and then to the top of her panties. Her eyes follow her hands, then move lower, stopping between Faith’s splayed legs.

Buffy licks her lips. Her thumb dips lower, swiping over Faith’s soaked underwear, avoiding her clit.

Faith’s hips jerk. “B,” she says, hearing the desperation in her own voice.

Hazel eyes swing back to hers, and Buffy nods, reaching for Faith’s panties. She peels them off gently, and Faith winces as the material pulls away, leaving her feeling too cool. Buffy finishes guiding Faith’s underwear off one leg, then the other, before she leans back over, her lips finding Faith’s stomach and leaving a trail of light kisses against her skin.

Before she settles between Faith’s legs, Buffy looks up again, seeking her eyes. “Is this okay? I can use my hand if you—”

“I want you to,” Faith interrupts. She brings her knees up further, making more room for Buffy.

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, looking like she’s almost excited about the prospect as Faith is. She plucks a hair tie free from her wrist, quickly pulling her hair back before she gets comfortable on her stomach. It takes her a second to figure out what to do with her arms, finally wrapping one around Faith’s thigh and letting her other hand rest on Faith’s stomach.

At the feeling of Buffy’s breath warm against her, Faith squeezes her eyes shut. Her heart is pounding, her whole body feeling tight with anticipation. From the way Buffy’s fingers dig into the meat of Faith’s thigh, she suspects the feeling is mutual.

She feels the brush of Buffy’s lips against her mound, just above her clit, and tenses. Buffy’s nose presses against her, then her mouth again, firmer this time, her lips parted and soft against the sensitive skin. Faith’s body breaks into goosebumps, and her hands fist into the sheets beside her hips. 

Buffy presses her hand down a little, as if to ground Faith, then lets the tip of her tongue trace the same spot.

The whimper that leaves Faith’s mouth is pure frustration, and Buffy evidently decides Faith’s had enough teasing. She shifts her attention lower, meeting Faith’s clit with a gentle lick.

The relief is instantaneous, and Faith sighs her approval, relaxing slightly. Between her legs, Buffy nestles in closer, starting to explore Faith’s cunt a little more thoroughly.

One of Faith’s hands drifts to the back of Buffy’s head instinctively, and she forces herself to keep her hold light. “Can I—?”

Buffy nods, the motion dragging her mouth up and down Faith’s slit a little harder.

Fuck. Faith grips her ponytail, and Buffy makes an approving noise against her. The sound of Buffy’s voice muffled by Faith’s pussy, is enough to make Faith’s hips jerk toward her.

Buffy squeezes Faith’s thigh, renewing her efforts with more enthusiasm. Her tongue dips into Faith’s opening, circling for a moment through the wetness collecting freely there. She makes a hungry little noise, rocking closer.

Faith opens her eyes to see Buffy’s face buried between her legs, her hair clenched in Faith’s fist, her fingers digging into Faith’s leg hard enough to leave red marks, and the sight goes straight to her core. Her cunt aches, tight and hot, wanting more.

Buffy’s lips closing around her clit again drags a moan from Faith’s chest. She’s too warm, flushed and sweaty and trembling. There’s tension between her hips, a need that builds and builds while Buffy paints circles around her clit.

This is as far as she’s ever gotten on the rare occasions she’s allowed someone to go down on her, on edge but missing some pivotal something that’ll push her over. Buffy’s trying a different motion now, long strokes with her tongue that make Faith’s nerves feel electric, and it’s almost, almost enough. She’s starting to get frustrated, but this is Buffy. Faith can just tell her—

The pressure on her clit changes again, Buffy’s thumb now instead of her mouth. “Faith.” Her eyes are bright, her face pink and shiny with evidence of Faith’s enjoyment. “Tell me what you need.”

Faith struggles to organize some kind of response while Buffy’s thumb sends little pulses of heat through her. “I—harder?” She says. Then, “Just do one thing, don’t change it up.” She loosens her grip on Buffy’s hair, stroking it softly instead.

Nodding, Buffy lowers her head again. She reorients herself, licking a stripe from Faith’s opening to her clit before she zeroes in on it, moving her thumb. This time, she draws Faith’s clit into her mouth, lips snug against the sensitive skin, her tongue laving across the rounded head of it.

The pressure is harder now, the seal of Buffy’s lips keeping her clit steady and at the mercy of her tongue. It feels incredible, and her hand tightens in Buffy’s hair again, pushing her face harder against Faith’s cunt.

Buffy eagerly gets closer, slick smearing her face, chin grinding against Faith’s slit. Wet noises mix with enthusiastic grunts from Buffy, still flicking her tongue over Faith’s clit relentlessly. It’s so much, almost too much.

“Just like that,” Faith says, letting her hips roll toward Buffy’s mouth. “Buffy—fuck—”

Buffy moans against her, the vibration making Faith see stars.

Faith’s heels dig into the bed, her hips pumping toward Buffy’s mouth. Far from protesting, Buffy grips Faith’s thighs with both hands and lets her grind herself against her face. 

“Fuck,” Faith grits again. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—“

Buffy’s tongue moves faster, a constant onslaught of sensation that Faith can feel from her tingling toes to her clenched teeth. With every upward thrust of Faith’s hips, high, needy sounds come from Buffy’s throat, smothered between them. Each one feels like a spark to Faith’s cunt. 

Those sparks build, igniting between her hips and making her clench and squeeze and drip wetness she can feel sliding down her ass, onto the bed beneath her, probably all over Buffy’s face and neck. 

She forces her eyes open so she can see Buffy. Her ponytail’s been dragged loose by Faith’s hand, her hair escaping over her shoulder to tickle Faith’s thigh. Her eyes are closed in concentration, head bobbing with Faith’s motions. Faith can see that she’s moving too, her hips rutting against the bed as she works Faith over. 

Faith can feel herself tensing, her muscles going taut as warmth sweeps through her. Her back arches, head rolling back. “B, oh fuck, yes, yesyesyes!”

The intensity of her climax makes her nearly jackknife, her shoulders coming off the bed and her hips bucking before she collapses. She can’t hear anything for a few seconds, everything else drowned out by the blood pounding in her own ears.

When she comes back to reality, she’s aware of Buffy very carefully disentangling herself. Faith’s half dazed, rendered mostly useless by how hard Buffy just got her off, but she has the presence of mind to sweep Buffy into her arms.

“Jesus, B,” she pants, exhausted and impressed. Her head feels very pleasantly as if she’s been spinning in circles. “That was so good.”

Buffy grins at her, her face wet and shiny. “So you want me to do it again?”

“Now?” Faith croaks, taken aback.

“No,” Buffy says, “just generally.”

“You want to?” It seemed like Buffy was enjoying it, but now that she’s slowly relaxing back to normal, Faith figures she should double check. Someone basically fucking your face is probably a little more intense than Buffy was expecting  for her first time.

“I mean, not all the time,” Buffy says. “Maybe just like… six days a week.”

Faith laughs. “Deal,” she says. Pulling Buffy closer, she kisses her.

Buffy immediately deepens the kiss, and Faith groans as she tastes herself on Buffy’s tongue. A few months ago she might have been able to imagine this: herself vaguely shaky, still coming down from the high of Buffy eating her out, Buffy, sweaty, dressed up in something sexy for her, her face slick with Faith’s come, but it wouldn’t have been remotely comparable. The two of them together is so much better than her fantasies. Yeah, they fuck, and it’s amazing, and Faith can’t get enough of it, but they talk and they laugh and Buffy has a favorite coffee mug at her place and it’s—it’s good. This whole fucking thing is just so good.

It's her turn to show Buffy how much Faith appreciates how good she is. 

“You wanna clean up?” Faith offers, knowing that Buffy’s face is going to start to get uncomfortable if it’s not already. “Then come back. I’m not done with you yet.”

By the time Buffy gets back from the restroom with a freshly washed face and her hair free around her shoulders, Faith’s arranged the pillows for her. She motions Buffy closer, letting her get settled in the center of the bed before she cozies up to her side and kisses her shoulder. “I missed you too, you know,” Faith says, running her fingers down Buffy’s stomach lightly.

“Yeah?” Buffy asks, her lips curving into a smile.

“Mhmm,” Faith says. She’s propped on one arm, looking down at Buffy, letting her hand wander wherever it wants. “Missed the way you smell, and how you squirm when I tickle you.” She hits a particularly ticklish spot where Buffy’s leg meets her hip and gets a demonstration of the very thing. Smiling, she continues, “I missed this birthmark.” She leans over, kissing the aforementioned spot on Buffy’s neck, almost hidden by her hair.

Buffy tenses, her arm tightening around Faith’s back. Faith does nothing to relax her, instead stroking the spot with the tip of her tongue and then blowing on it softly, watching goosebumps crop up in her wake.

Faith says, “Missed the way you say my name when I’m making you come.”

Buffy’s fingers dig into her back. “Faith,” she complains, her voice needy.

“Kinda like that,” Faith says with a smirk. “Not quite though. We’ll get there.”

“See, this is why I say you’re a tease,” Buffy says, pouting.

“Okay, little Miss ‘I’ve been getting myself off thinking about eating your pussy,’” Faith says. “You’re one to talk.”

“That wasn’t teasing,” Buffy protests. “That was setting the mood.”

Faith still thinks it was teasing, but she says, “Okay, and now I’m setting the mood.” The bodice of Buffy’s outfit isn’t quite flush with her skin now that she’s lying down, and Faith slides her fingers into the slight gap, managing to get her hand most of the way inside. Stroking Buffy’s nipple she says, “See?”

Before Buffy can respond, Faith’s kissing her chest, her mouth finding the nipple not currently occupied by her hand. She gives herself a minute to enjoy Buffy squirming and gasping, then she moves on, wiggling down Buffy’s body to kiss each little bit of skin revealed by the cutouts in the lingerie.

She stops when she reaches Buffy’s lower belly, getting to her knees between Buffy’s legs.

Buffy’s not complaining now, just watching Faith with wide eyes. Faith can hear her heart thumping faster. She slowly trails her hands down Buffy’s thighs until she reaches her knees, just slightly bent.  Knowing how much it turns Buffy on when she gets to show off for her, Faith encourages her knees to move higher and further apart, watching as the soft lace parts with her legs.

There’s never been a time when Faith hasn’t been excited to see Buffy’s cunt, but she’s gotta admit, the little outfit is adding something extra to the whole reveal. The lace splits below her belly button, framing the neat patch of curls covering her mons. When Faith’s eyes move lower, a soft groan breaks free from her lips.

She’s wet, wetter even than Faith’s expecting. Buffy’s soaked, the small strips of lace tucked around each leg dark with dampness, her thighs glistening with it. And not just wet, but obviously swollen, her lips tinged red and puffy. Her clit’s standing prominently, practically begging for attention.

She’s the prettiest thing Faith’s ever seen—wrapped up like a present with a literal bow on top. Faith’s never been careful enough for pretty, delicate things, but with Buffy, she can be. Buffy whispers her name in a way that makes Faith sound like please, and the outfit, the quivering legs, the desire so thick that it’s all she can smell: Faith knows it’s all for her. Buffy wants her, trusts her to take care of her.

Looking back up, she finds Buffy watching her, her hands balled loosely at her sides.  Faith leans over, pressing her lips to Buffy’s stomach. “You’re gorgeous,” she says, her voice soft.

Buffy inhales sharply when Faith leans over her, not at Faith’s words, but by the fact that her motion pushes one of her tits directly between Buffy’s legs. Interesting, Faith thinks, shifting so that it happens again.

This time, Buffy moans, her hands clenching at the sheets.

The slide of hot, slick skin against her nipple feels pretty good on Faith’s end too. She reaches down with one hand, cupping her tit and pushing it harder against Buffy.

She loves watching Buffy’s face while she’s touching her, and this doesn’t disappoint. Her lips are flushed and parted, the pink of her tongue just visible when she sucks in another breath. Her eyes flutter as Faith rocks against her again. Faith’s very tempted to drag this out longer, but Buffy’s waited long enough now. And she’s already told Faith what she wants.

Still, there’s a grumble of disappointment from above her when Faith pulls back and slides onto her stomach. That becomes a whine when Faith’s mouth meets the inside of Buffy’s thigh. She takes her time, kissing, then licking when she reaches the place where Buffy’s leg is sticky with arousal. 

Repeating her motions on the opposite leg, she works her way slowly toward her ultimate destination. When she gets there, Faith runs the tip of her tongue between Buffy’s lips, taking her first taste. Buffy’s breath shudders from her chest, caught between a gasp and a cry. 

Buffy doesn’t taste like candy or fruit or whatever other bullshit that magazines want women to think their cunts should resemble. She tastes like Buffy, like salt and sweat and power and every fucking wet dream Faith’s ever had. Faith wants to taste every bit of her. She dives in, grip slick on Buffy’s legs, nosing her clit, her tongue stretching to get inside her.

When Faith’s tongue pushes inside her, Buffy makes a sound that’s more sob than moan. Her hands find Faith’s head, not pushy like Faith’s were, but needy, winding in Faith’s hair and holding on while she trembles. “God,” she breathes. “Faith—”

Faith sucks at her opening, wetness filling her mouth, twirling her tongue in and out, over and around the sensitive skin, and Buffy’s thighs are shaking under Faith’s hands.  Why did she wait so long to do this?

Buffy’s moaning loudly enough that Faith’s sure they’re entertaining the neighbors, but she doesn’t care if the whole hotel hears them. It would take more than a noise complaint to get her to move. She eats Buffy like a sacrament, worshiping every inch of her, relishing every moan and gasp and cry. She sucks the flushed swells of her labia, licks the cleft between them, up and back down, curling her tongue through heat and slickness, until her lips meet and cradle Buffy’s clit. 

She pushes herself closer, her face damp and sticky, hair stuck to her neck, to lap at it. It would be easy to push Buffy over the edge—to suck her clit into her mouth, hard and fast, until Buffy falls apart underneath her—but Faith wants this to last. She knows Buffy’s body pretty well by now, but there is knowing with your hands and then there’s knowing with your mouth. Buffy feels different like this, pliable under her mouth, giving no resistance when Faith parts and plunders her with her lips and tongue. 

Buffy’s nails scrape her scalp. A little grunt leaves her mouth with every swipe of Faith’s tongue. When Faith looks up, there are teeth marks in Buffy’s lip. She’s flushed from chest to cheeks, damp with sweat.

“Faith,” Buffy murmurs, sounding like a plea and praise at the same time. 

Faith’s answer is a moan against her, and Buffy shudders, her hands twitching in Faith’s hair. 

Squeezing Buffy’s legs, Faith shoves her face harder between them, rolling Buffy’s clit around her tongue. She spins circles across it, roughly then gentler, until Buffy’s shaking underneath her and they’re both soaked. 

Then she sucks. 

Buffy’s hips come off the bed, almost knocking Faith backward before Faith gets a hand on her to hold her down. She keeps going as Buffy’s thighs close around her head, feeling her cunt clenching hard against Faith’s mouth. 

Even with Buffy’s legs acting as earmuffs, Faith can hear her voice breaking as she cries out. She softens her mouth, lapping slowly and gently at the new warmth coating them both. Aftershocks make Buffy’s legs jolt twice more before she finally parts them again, carefully pulling her hands free from Faith’s hair. 

Faith shifts back, intending to move so Buffy can straighten her legs. Before she can make it very far, Buffy’s reaching for her arms, dragging Faith up and half on top of her.

“Wha—” Faith begins, the rest of her sentence lost when Buffy kisses her.

It’s not the perfunctory, exhausted kiss Faith expected she’d be getting after her performance just now. Buffy’s arms are tight around her, her mouth eager in spite of the fact that Faith tastes like her. She breaks away a moment later, tucking her face into Faith’s neck.

She slides her arm around Buffy as much as she’s able to in their current position, nuzzling her wet nose into Buffy’s hair. Fuck it. They both need a shower anyway. Stroking Buffy’s back, Faith asks, “You okay?”

Buffy nods, loosening her grip just a tiny bit. 

“You sure?”

This time Buffy gives her a verbal answer, her voice a little hoarse. “I’m okay. You were just far away.”

Faith smiles. Technically they were touching the entire time, but she kind of gets it.  Buffy’s been wrung out, waiting for Faith to touch her, then waiting to come. She needs to be held. Their usual post sex cuddling is more of an easy, comfortable thing, less feeling like a koala bear is clinging to her, but there’s something nice about this too. It feels good to be needed.  

Shifting onto her side, Faith pulls Buffy with her, getting both arms around her. Kissing Buffy’s hair, she tries not to focus on the weird sensation of her skin slowly drying. “So,” she says at length, “I’m allowed to do that again?”

Buffy snorts. Then she says, “I guess I could allow that.”

“Generous of you.”

“Well, it seemed like you were having fun.”

“Oh, it was just me having fun?” Faith asks, pretending to take her seriously. 

Buffy sighs deeply, relaxing further into Faith’s hold. “No,” she says, “I was right there with you.”

Her lips brush Faith’s neck, sending a pleasant tingle through her. Faith asks, “You wanted to know what it was like. Was it what you were expecting?”

“Better,” Buffy says immediately. 

Faith laughs. 

“Shut up,” Buffy grumbles, nudging Faith’s hip. “I was gonna give you a compliment but now, forget it.”

“Aww, come on,” Faith wheedles, rubbing her hand up and down Buffy’s back briskly. “Tell me.”

Buffy makes a little hmmph sound, but she says, “I was going to say, I knew I would love it because it was with you, and you’re really good.”

Faith puffs up slightly. 

“Not just what you do, I mean, but you’re good at, like, reading me. You’re really, umm, attentive, I guess is the word. I like it. That’s all.”

Faith was expecting to hear praise more like, you’ve ruined my ability to ever get off with anyone else, or my pussy’s erecting a little shrine in your honor. Instead, she feels her face getting warm. She isn’t sure what to say for a minute, so she rubs Buffy’s back and mulls it over. Finally, she says, “Good. I mean, I want—you should feel like that.” It gets harder to keep talking when Buffy leans back to look at her, but Faith manages to add, “You’re good at that too.”

Buffy smiles softly.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Faith says, before Buffy can say anything else.

Buffy nods, looking a little disappointed. She disentangles herself from Faith’s arms.

Rolling to her feet, Faith looks back at Buffy and holds out her hand. “You coming?”

Perking back up, Buffy nods enthusiastically. She lets Faith haul her out of bed and into a long kiss.

In the shower, Faith stands behind Buffy under the spray, arms around her. “I think you were right,” she says, kissing her cheek.

“About what?” Buffy leans into her, letting Faith support some of her weight while the warmth relaxes them both.

“I do owe you a thank you,” Faith says.

It takes a second for Buffy to realize she’s talking about their conversation from last night, then she laughs. “You’re very, very welcome,” she says, turning so they’re facing each other. Her arms slip around Faith’s waist, their bodies pressed together. “Anytime.”

Chapter Eleven

Thanksgiving morning dawns bright and California-cool, which is to say a light jacket might be recommended. Buffy wakes up to soft light filtering in through the curtains, the familiar sloped ceilings of her bedroom greeting her. Beside her, Faith’s deep and even breathing lets Buffy know she’s still sleeping.

Staying at home last night was an easy excuse, with Buffy claiming she needed to bring supplies to Giles’s house in the morning. It’s not a total lie; Giles doesn’t even have a gravy boat. Faith staying with her wasn’t in question. Buffy’s been feeling kind of weird these past few days. There’s nothing she can really pinpoint, no real way to describe it. She just feels thrown—not all the time—but often enough that Faith seems to be concerned. That combined with this whole Hus thing has them both a little on edge.

Right now, she feels fine. Better than fine. They’re going to have a beautiful holiday dinner today, and somehow find a way to very nicely and respectively banish the vengeful spirit of the Chumash people before he can kill anyone else. Everything’s going to work out. Glancing at her alarm clock, she sees she has a few hours before she needs to be at Giles’s place to start cooking. Plenty of time to kick this holiday off in a festive way.

She rolls on her side, looking at the other side of the bed. Faith’s long, dark hair streams down her naked back, the blankets tucked low around her hips. Her clothes are currently strewn around Buffy’s room along with her own, discarded there last night after a rather unproductive patrol left them both less than satisfied. They’d made up for that in other ways.

Faith’s on her stomach, her arms folded under her pillow, facing the other way. The skin of her back is soft and smooth but for a small scar that snakes across her ribs. The dimples in Faith’s lower back are practically calling her name, but Buffy ignores the siren song for now.

The curve of Faith’s breast, crushed against the mattress, catches Buffy’s eye. She thinks about Halloween night, Faith on top of her, their chests together, and feels her pussy stirring in interest.

Reaching over, Buffy runs her fingers down Faith’s back. She’s not trying to wake her up for sex, but if Faith should just happen to wake up… that’s another story.

Faith stretches slightly under her hand, burrowing her face further into the pillow. Buffy watches her lithe form shift, the covers dipping lower as she does. The top of one rounded cheek reveals itself, adorable and deceptively soft looking. From plenty of experience grabbing it, Buffy knows Faith’s butt is pure muscle.

Scooting a little closer, Buffy kisses the shoulder closest to her. A soft kiss—gentle, not horny. She’s not demanding Faith get up and fuck her, just making a very light suggestion that it might be welcome if she wanted to.

Faith makes an approving sound as Buffy keeps going, peppering her skin with kisses. Buffy’s breasts press to her back as she leans to reach Faith’s opposite shoulder.

“Mmm,” Faith says, her voice husky from sleep, “this is a good way to wake up.”

“Is it?” Buffy asks, and well, she only has so much self-control. Her hand slips beneath the blanket.

“Mhmm.”

Fingertips following the curve of Faith’s ass, Buffy lets her tongue trace across Faith’s shoulder blade. Faith tenses slightly, her heartbeat speeding up audibly. Her palm comes to rest fully on Faith’s butt, and Buffy digs her nails in just a little.

Sucking in a breath, Faith pulls her right knee up and parallel to her hip. Buffy’s surprised—she was expecting Faith to turn over—but she’s immediately on board with this. She lets her hand slide further, lets it fit between Faith’s legs, upside down and out of sorts, but finding the way.

She’s only a little wet and that’s probably leftover from their activities just a few hours ago, so Buffy starts slowly, fingers together, wide circles around Faith’s clit. She presses herself to Faith’s back, mouthing along her spine.

Faith breathes shakily, and her arm emerges from under the pillow, reaching behind her to get a hand on Buffy.

The covers slip down her arm, and Buffy rests her cheek on Faith’s shoulder, watching Faith’s hips rotating. Her pussy pushes harder into Buffy’s hand, as if seeking more contact.

Buffy obliges. New moisture seeps down Faith’s slit, coating her hand and easing the way. She brings her free hand to Faith’s hip. “Up,” she says to Faith’s back.

Faith obeys, and Buffy gets on her knees, hooking her arm under Faith’s leg. She skims across Faith’s mons to find her clit with her right hand. Her left moves back up, two fingers finding Faith slick and ready.

When Buffy pushes inside her, Faith’s groan is half lost in the pillow. On her knees, Buffy can see her face, sleep soft, her lashes a dewy fan against her cheek, her lips pink parentheses against the white sheets. Her brow tightens in time with Buffy’s fingers, pulling back and pressing forward again.

Faith’s knee digs into the bed, her thigh flexing as she pushes back against Buffy’s hand.

“Harder?” Buffy asks.

Faith shakes her head. “No, just—ahh— more.”

That leaves a lot of room for interpretation, but Faith’s been awake for like 10 minutes tops, so Buffy can’t really hold it against her. She gets her fingers as deep as she can, and that seems to be what Faith was wanting, if the pleased noise that spills from her mouth is any indication.

Buffy kisses and licks her way across Faith’s back, Faith’s hair tickling her nose. She can feel Faith’s body responding to her, hot and tight, gripping her buried fingers. Faith’s hips trap Buffy’s wrist to the bed, rolling until Faith’s doing more of the work than she is, rubbing her clit into Buffy’s waiting fingertips.

She’s out of hands, so she bites at Faith’s back, soothing her teeth marks with her tongue. Faith gropes at her blindly, gets a hand on her folded knee and squeezes, whimpering, “B—”

Buffy twists her fingers, curling them into wet heat, feeling Faith’s muscles clamp down around them.

Faith makes an unintelligible noise that sounds like it was meant to be a curse, then, softer, plaintive, “Buffy.”

“Mhmm,” Buffy says against her back.

“Talk to me,” Faith says in that same tone, almost shy.

Buffy’s face goes warm, put on the spot. Still, she raises her head, getting as close to Faith’s ear as she can without compromising her motions. “Any particular topics you had in mind?”

Faith shakes her head, still rubbing herself against Buffy’s hand.

“So now would be a good time to tell you about the demon I ran into on—”

Faith groans a complaint into the pillow.

Laughing, Buffy kisses her back in apology. “How about this then?” She suggests. “I was only awake for about two minutes before I started thinking about touching you. You’ve created a monster.” Pulling her fingers back a little, Buffy pushes in to the hilt again.

There’s a better sound from Faith at that, low and soft.

Buffy continues. “Even watching you sleep turns me on. I don’t know how I’ll get through dinner later without dragging you into the bathroom.”

Faith says, “You can—mm—drag me. Happy to help the chef.”

She sounds more amused than turned on. Clearly Buffy’s not exactly succeeding here. She curls her fingers a little, relishing the gasp Faith lets out. “You look so hot like this,” Buffy says, trying not to think too hard about what she’s saying. “The way you’re getting yourself off on my fingers. Taking what you want.”

Faith’s hips pick up the pace a little, grinding her clit into the pads of Buffy’s fingers.

Buffy moans softly. “You’re so wet for me.” She starts to thrust her fingers, not pulling out very far, just creating enough space for Faith to feel her sink all the way inside her again. “I can feel you pulling me back in,” Buffy says, her face burning. Thank God Faith’s facing the other way. It’s easier to talk like this when they can’t make eye contact. “You like that? Like the way I fuck you?”

“Uh huh,” Faith says, mostly a whine. She’s drenched, slick sounds accompanying every slide of Buffy’s fingers.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? Let me—”

A strangled moan interrupts her thought, and Buffy grins against Faith’s skin.

“You like when I call you ‘baby?’” She asks, some of the nervousness sliding away.

“Fuck,” Faith mutters, and Buffy can’t really tell if it’s a complaint or praise, but she’s still smiling.

“Seems like you do,” Buffy says, a little teasing in her voice now. “I can feel how much your pussy liked it, the way you squeezed my fingers.”

“You’re—such a—a brat,” Faith says, but the fact that she’s breathless and still humping Buffy’s hand takes any sting out of her words. 

“You like it.” Buffy reminds her how much she likes it by fucking her harder.

Every thrust drags a little grunt from Faith’s mouth.

“I love the sounds you make,” Buffy says, feeling her own wetness seeping down her thighs. “Makes me so wet, just listening to you.”

Faith’s trembling, the hand still on Buffy’s knee digging in hard.

“You’re so close,” Buffy says, groaning as she feels Faith’s walls clenching. "I wanna be inside you when you come, wanna feel it on my fingers.”

“B—fuck, oh fuck—”

Her movements are erratic now so Buffy steps in, circling Faith’s clit fast and hard. “That’s it, baby.”

Faith’s cry is partially drowned out by the pillow, and Buffy can hear her hands scrabbling against the sheets.

“That’s good,” Buffy pants along with her. “You feel so good. Are you gonna come for me?”

Her answer is a whimper. Faith goes rigid against her, her hips thrusting downward. She rocks against Buffy’s trapped hand twice more, then her muscles grip Buffy’s fingers hard.

A long, low moan leaves Faith’s mouth, and Buffy’s neglected pussy shudders in response.

Laying her cheek against Faith’s back, Buffy listens to the thumping of her heart and gives her time to relax before she tries withdrawing her hands. At the movement of Buffy’s hand, Faith lifts her hip to free her. She makes a disgruntled noise as she straightens out her leg and rolls onto her side.

Spooning up against her, Buffy kisses her shoulder and wraps an arm around her middle. Faith’s hand finds her arm and squeezes. “There you are.”

“Been here the whole time,” Buffy murmurs back. “I’m pretty sure.”

Faith’s thumb strokes the inside of her arm gently. “Oh, yeah, I remember now. You were being a brat.”

“This brat just gave you a pretty solid orgasm,” Buffy says, gloating a little. Faith can pretend she doesn’t like being teased all she wants. They both know the truth.

“Mhmm,” Faith says agreeably. She yawns, pulling Buffy’s arm around her a little tighter. “I’ll get you back tonight when we have that quickie in Giles’s bathroom.”

“Faith,” Buffy whines.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hmm me.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, switching back to full brat mode. “If you’re too tired to touch me”—she moves her free hand between them, so Faith can feel it against her ass when Buffy slides her hand between her own legs—“I can take care of myself.”

In a second, Faith flips over and has Buffy pinned to the bed. She takes her hands and pulls them over her head, holding them down at the wrist. “Brat,” she says again.

For some reason, Faith pinning her wrists like this makes heat flare in Buffy’s stomach. “You know how to get me to stop,” she says, giving Faith a sweet smile and fluttering her eyelashes.

Faith transfers her grip so Buffy’s wrists are captured by one hand.

“Yeah, I do,” she says. She shifts, getting one knee between Buffy’s and pushing her legs apart. Her newly freed hand slides down Buffy’s side. “But I think you’re right,” she says.

“About wha—oh!”

Faith cups her firmly, not moving for a long, torturous moment.

“I do like when you’re a brat,” Faith says, slipping one finger between her labia.

Buffy wants to respond, but Faith’s finger is joined by another, and then they’re gliding along her slit. All that comes out of her mouth is a garbled noise.

“You good?” Faith asks, squeezing her wrists so Buffy will know she’s asking about having her arms pinned.

“Uh huh,” Buffy agrees, then struggles against her hold. If Faith’s gonna stick with the brat thing, might as well act the part. She looks up, and Faith’s dark eyes are boring into hers. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?” Buffy asks, trying and mostly succeeding in keeping her voice steady.

Faith huffs a laugh, her mouth not quite smiling. Without releasing Buffy’s arms, she moves her other knee so she’s fully kneeling between Buffy’s legs. Her hand slips away from Buffy’s pussy, making her whine in frustration.

With her wet hand, Faith arranges Buffy’s legs where she wants them, open wide. She crams her knee under one of Buffy’s thighs, keeping it stationary. “You gonna ask nicer than that?”

Buffy shakes her head.

She’s expecting Faith to say something else, but instead, she plunges two fingers inside Buffy with perfect accuracy.

“Fuck,” Buffy hisses, her back arching.

“You don’t ask nice, I won’t do it nice,” Faith says, squeezing her wrists. Her fingers slide away and shove back in, hard enough to rock Buffy’s body back against the mattress. “You wanna try that again?”

Buffy wants the opposite of that, actually. “Nope,” she says, and makes a quick attempt at yanking one of her hands free.

Faith catches her, digging her fingers into Buffy’s wrist hard enough that she’ll probably leave marks. She looks down at Buffy, one of her dimples flashing. Buffy raises her chin in response, breathing hard, defiant. They both know she could easily free herself if she really wanted to.

“Have it your way,” Faith says, then proceeds to fuck her mercilessly.

It’s hard and fast, and Buffy’s breath gets stuck in her chest, stuttering free in whimpers and cries. Faith crushes her mouth against Buffy’s, biting at her lips, licking into her mouth with a rough sound, swallowing down the increasingly loud noises bursting from Buffy’s throat.

Her chest arches up, pressing to Faith, her wrists still ensnared in an iron grip. Faith’s knee pushes Buffy’s leg further, toward her chest, making her pelvis tilt upward.

Faith tears her mouth free and makes her way down Buffy’s throat, sucking red patterns into her skin. At Buffy’s chest she softens just a little, but her mouth on Buffy’s nipple still wrenches a hoarse cry free.

The space between her hips feels electric, hot and sharp and bright, and Buffy pushes her wrists upward just to get more of it. Just to hear Faith growl into her mouth and shove her hands back down. Buffy pushes again, feels teeth graze her nipple for her trouble, and turns her face into the crook of Faith’s elbow, moaning her approval.

The hand pistoning into her stops suddenly. Buffy whines a protest, but then Faith’s thumb is on her clit, direct and heavy. The contact makes stars explode behind her eyelids, and Buffy opens her mouth, sinking her teeth into Faith’s arm just to ground herself.

Faith grunts, but she doesn’t stop. The fingers inside her curl like they’re trying to meet Faith’s thumb, and Buffy can feel herself gripping at them, clenching, to pull them closer or maybe force them out because it’s too much.

Her clit aches under Faith’s attention, rough and fast and making her toes curl. All she can hear over the blood pounding in her ears is the sound of Faith’s hand moving between her legs, slick—hard—deep until Buffy’s body feels like it’s buzzing, like she’s going to break into a million pieces.

Buffy pushes herself up, wanting more, more, more of Faith’s hands and her mouth, and Faith gives it, tongue hot and busy, flicking Buffy’s nipple until she squirms, her head falling back, her breath coming in big, gulping cries.

“Fuck, Buffy,” Faith murmurs against her chest, sounding somehow impressed and turned on at once, and she wants to say something bratty, wants to keep up the game they started but she can’t think—everything’s bright and tingly, her body racing toward overload.

Her hips come off the bed, Faith’s hand going with them, and she’s shaking, bucking against Faith’s fingers, soaking them, as she tenses and explodes and falls apart in Faith’s hold.

And finally, finally sinks back down, weak limbed and wrung out.

Faith releases her wrists, and Buffy leaves her arms above her head, wincing as the blood rushes back, all pins and needles. The hand between her legs lingers another few moments before gently slipping away.

Buffy hears herself make a sound, lodging a complaint with the tiny bit of energy remaining in her body, and Faith chuckles before gingerly moving Buffy’s arms down and gathering her against her.

Soft fingertips brush her hair, then Faith kisses her cheeks, her closed eyes, her lips.

“Mmm,” Buffy manages, kissing back, drowsy and warm.

“Back to sleep,” Faith says, and Buffy’s with her on that, or maybe already ahead of her. She snuggles closer, letting her head rest on Faith’s chest, slipping blissfully into sleep.

XXXXX

Faith’s planning to stop home, change clothes, squeeze a workout in, then shower and head to Giles’s for the festivities. Unfortunately, there are four messages on her machine when she gets home. The guy in Room 2 blew a fuse trying to deep fry a turkey inside his room, and Paul can’t find the keys to the maintenance room. Faith would be tempted to let the idiot be powerless until tomorrow, except Rooms 2 and 3 apparently share at least one circuit. Room 3 has no power in her bathroom, and 3 is a lady who checked in last week with a toddler and hand shaped bruises peeking from under her sleeve when she paid Faith all in cash. Faith’s not going to let a mom probably hiding out from her abusive partner go partially without power on a holiday.

Hours later, the key has been located and the power’s been restored. Room 2 has relocated his fryer to the small patio behind the office, with her permission. She’s also covered Paul’s break and jump started the jalopy belonging to the young couple who spent the night in Room 5 so they can get to the Bay Area before they miss dinner.  Right as she’s waving goodbye to the two of them on their way out of the lot, Ms. Dolly informs her she’s got a new client unexpectedly coming by, and would Faith mind keeping an ear out? Dolly’s appointment goes smoothly, but it puts Faith massively behind schedule.

She manages to make it to the market before they close, put in charge of acquiring rolls after a frantic call from Buffy. From there, she swings by her apartment. There’s no time for a shower, but she can at least clean up a bit. By the time she parks on the street outside of Giles’s apartment and hurries up the sidewalk, it’s past sunset. She has no idea if she’s missed dinner, or whether the entire gang will be out dealing with this Hus business. She’s almost to the courtyard stairs when someone emerges: tall, dark, and dead.

“Angel,” Faith says, unpleasantly surprised.

Angel stops short, meeting her eyes. “Faith, hi.”

Faith takes him in: rumpled clothes, useless dead lungs panting air like he actually needs it to survive, hair slightly mussed. He’s been fighting something or someone. Faith’s eyes flick behind him. There’s no movement from the stairs. “What are you doing here?” She narrows her eyes. “Are you evil again?”

“No,” Angel says, sounding more offended than she expects. “I’m not—look, I came to help deal with this vengeful spirit thing. I heard Buffy was in trouble.”

“Heard how?”

“I’ve got a guy with a connection to the Powers. He had a vision.” He looks behind him, seeming nervous. “The situation’s dealt with. I should go.”

A cool breeze whips her hair. “Okay,” Faith says, somewhat confused.

He’s about to reply when he suddenly goes stock still. A hard look overtakes his face. 

Faith stares at him, waiting for him to say something. Can vampires have strokes?

After a moment, Angel says flatly, “I can smell her on you.”

Faith freezes for a second. B’s not gonna be happy about this. Trying to keep her voice light, she asks, “Anyone ever tell you the smelling thing is kinda creepy?”

He looks sick to his stomach, and for a moment, Faith is almost sympathetic. Angel says, “You two—you’re—”

“Really not your business,” Faith says, not meanly, just factually. She’s not going to explain anything to Buffy’s ex.

A muscle in Angel’s jaw ticks, and she can tell he’s reaching the anger part of this little realization. “Guess you finally got what you wanted,” he says, making her bristle. “Pretty quick too. Were you just waiting for me to leave so you could move in?”

Now that pisses her off. Faith shrugs casually, pretending it doesn’t. “Didn’t need to,” she says. “How long did you think 5 minutes of missionary was going to hold her over?” Buffy’s never told her details about Angel; it’s just a lucky guess from everything she knows about him. Angel flinches, and Faith smothers a grim smile. “A girl’s got needs.”

“If you hurt her—” Angel starts, and oh, this motherfucker has some nerve— 

“That’s rich coming from the dick who broke her heart,” Faith cuts in, her voice sharp. 

He glowers at her, and Faith deliberately looks away, showing him how unthreatened she is. “It’s been nice catching up,” she says, in a tone that conveys how not nice it’s really been, “but if you don’t want Buffy to come out here and find you getting your ass kicked, you should scurry back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

Angel looks furious, and Faith tenses, half expecting him to take a swing at her. Instead, he takes a step back. “If you hurt her,” he says, finishing his earlier thought, “we’re going to have words.”

She nods, projecting an aura of boredom. “Anything else?”

“Be seeing you,” he says, and now it definitely sounds like a threat. Faith just nods tightly, watching him walk away until he disappears through a neighboring yard.

Once he’s gone, she lets out a deep breath. Fuck. There’s no time to dwell though. She heads down the stairs into the courtyard to find Xander struggling with the broken lock of Giles’s front door.

“What’d I miss?” Faith asks lightly.

Sighing, Xander gives up, opening the door to let her in.

Buffy spots her, calling through the pass-through, “Faith! Did you bring the rolls?”

In the kitchen, Faith rolls up her sleeves and does whatever Buffy asks: stirring, tasting, plating. They fill her in on what she missed, Spike (fucking Spike, seriously?) adding baleful commentary on how they’re all idiots, how Buffy made a bear, and how he doesn’t know how they’ve survived this long. Faith ignores that, gives Giles a fresh ice pack to hold to the side of his head when the first one starts to look a little too melty, and listens to vividly described symptoms of syphilis from Xander. All the while, she thinks about the look on Angel’s face when he realized Buffy’s found her way into Faith’s bed, and she thinks about the look Buffy’s going to have when Faith has to tell her.

Buffy seems kind of off herself, even when they sit down to eat. Maybe it’s not being with her mom; maybe it’s the fact that no one brought whipped cream for the pies. Or maybe it’s the specter of colonialism, less subtext than text this year, that’s got her feeling down. Under the table, Faith nudges the toe of her boot against the side of Buffy’s shoe, earning herself a slight smile. With Giles complimenting her cooking, Buffy starts to relax slightly. That lasts all of thirty seconds.

“Maybe we started a new tradition this year,” Willow says, to the incredulous looks of everyone at the table. She frowns. “Maybe not. But at least we all worked together. It was like old times.”

Xander nods in agreement. “Yeah, especially with Angel being here and everything.”

Faith’s surprised, but not as surprised as Buffy. The fork clatters to her plate, escaping her hand.

“Oops?” Xander says weakly.

Buffy looks around the table. “Explain,” she says to the group. “Now.”

Giles and Willow do most of the talking. Faith’s expecting to go next, but Buffy excuses herself before she gets the chance. The sink starts to run in the kitchen while they all exchange guilty looks.

Faith gives it a few minutes before she stands, collecting dirty plates and making her way into the small kitchen. She sets them gingerly by the sink, Buffy flashing her a tight smile, before she steps away. Leaning her hip on the counter, she watches Buffy scrub mashed potato bits from the stock pot with a singular ferocity not usually observed outside of slaying. Faith’s honestly concerned that Giles’s cookware might not survive Buffy’s cleaning. The tension in Buffy’s body is visible to Faith’s eye, raised shoulders, tight neck, probably clenched teeth. If they were alone, she’d move closer. She’d rub Buffy’s shoulders, maybe hug her from behind, squeeze all that tension out of her until she’d melt back against her. The stupid window from Giles’s kitchen into the living area basically puts them on display, so Faith can’t do any of that. The best she can manage is a soft squeeze of Buffy’s arm as she leaves, headed back to the table for more dishes.

Xander makes a valiant effort at acting like nothing’s wrong, keeping up running commentary as he breaks out storage tubs and starts packing up leftovers. Faith helps him, in spite of the fact that Anya is watching her like a hawk every time she looks up. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but Faith’s had plenty of practice acting like things are totally normal when everyone in the room knows they aren’t. They manage to get leftovers packed for everyone by the time Buffy’s singlehandedly done most of the dishes. Faith hears Giles gently suggesting that he can finish the remainder, then Buffy’s stripping the dish gloves off and emerging into the living room.

Faith lifts the biggest bag of leftovers. “Need a ride home?” She offers, as if that wasn’t already their plan.

Buffy’s quiet the whole way back to Revello Drive. By the time she’s standing in the Summers’ kitchen, watching Buffy rearrange things in the refrigerator to make space for the food they’ve brought, Faith’s about ready to jump out of her skin. She can keep up the normal act, but it works a lot better when she has someone to play off. She stays on the opposite side of the island, keeping her distance and fiddling with her car keys. Finally, she asks, “You wanna talk about it?” She doesn’t really want to talk about it, but Angel’s unannounced visit to Sunnydale is obviously on Buffy’s mind.

Buffy finishes tucking the leftovers in the fridge and closes it firmly. “Talk about what?”

Faith gives her a look that Buffy very purposely does not acknowledge. “B.”

Buffy deflates a little. “What’s there to say? My ex showed up, skulked around town for several days watching me, literally talked to all of my friends and—” She stops, takes a deliberate breath and then continues, “And didn’t even have the decency to tell me he was here.”

Doing her best impression of a therapist, Faith prods, “And that made you feel…?”

“Pissed off,” Buffy says.

Pissed off is what Faith feels. She suspects ‘pissed off’ doesn’t quite cover it on Buffy’s end. “And hurt?” She suggests.

Buffy looks down. “I guess.”

“Yeah,” Faith says, her stomach feeling a little hollow. She grips the back of the chair, mostly for something to do with her hands. “That makes sense.”

“It just makes me feel like”—Buffy pauses a second, groping for the right words—"like it doesn’t matter what I want, whether I would have wanted to see him, or even want him back in town. He’s still doing it—he’s still making decisions for me.”

Well, Angel always was a prick, Faith thinks, but she just nods.

“And like, I knew something was going on. I could feel it all week.”

Right, that. The whole ‘Buffy feeling off because Angel was in town’ thing is kind of sticking in her craw. Angel’s been gone for months, but he sets one cold, bloodless toe over the town line, and Buffy can sense him. What the fuck is that about?

“And everyone was just going to keep it from me,” Buffy continues, sounding angrier now.

Faith doesn’t quite manage to hide her wince. 

“What?” Buffy asks, catching it. After a second, her face falls. “You knew too.”

“Yeah,” Faith says reluctantly, “but not for long. I ran into him while I was walking up to Giles’s. I would’ve told you. You were just really excited about dinner, and I didn’t want to ruin things.” And you didn’t want her to have the chance to go after him, her brain thinks accusingly. 

Buffy frowns. “Did he ask you not to tell me too?”

“Uh,” Faith says, “no actually. He got kind of distracted.”

Buffy looks confused. 

She deserves to know, even though Faith isn’t sure how she’s going to react. Forcing the words, Faith says, “He figured out that, uh, we’ve been sleeping together.”

That’s clearly not what Buffy was expecting to hear. Her mouth falls open.

Raking her hair back, Faith tries not to fidget. “He said he could smell you on me.” She attempts a small smile. “I didn’t really have time to shower with the work bullshit and all.”

“Oh, God,” Buffy says, looking horrified.

“I’m sorry,” Faith says, not because it was her fault (fucking vampire senses), but because Buffy looks like she’s about to freak out. She waits a few seconds for Buffy to say something, feeling uncomfortable. When nothing else comes, she asks, “Should I go?”

“What?” Buffy asks, startled. Her wide eyes meet Faith’s. “No,” she says, “unless—do you want to go?”

“I mean, you’re upset and—”

“I’m not upset with you,” Buffy stresses. “I wish he didn’t know—it’s not that I’m embarrassed or anything—just—” She shrugs, waving her hand in a way that’s supposed to substitute for the rest of her sentence. It doesn’t help fill in the blanks at all, but Faith thinks she understands.

“I get it,” Faith says, trying to sound neutral about it. “You probably still love—”

“No,” Buffy says quickly. “I mean, yes, but no, not like—” She shakes her head like she’s clearing out cobwebs then steps around the island, closer to Faith. “Angel’s the first person I loved. I think I’ll always care, but it’s not like before. I’m not in love with him.”

The way Buffy’s looking at her is strangely intense. Faith’s not really sure what her expression means, but it seems important to Buffy that Faith understands what she’s saying, so she nods.

“I don’t want you to go,” Buffy says again. She still looks miserable.

“Okay.” Faith feels roughly as good about all this as Buffy looks.

Buffy crosses her arms over her stomach and fidgets for a second.

“What?” Faith prompts, since it looks like she wants to say something else.

“Do you think Spike knows?” Buffy asks.

Faith’s surprised by that question. She hadn’t considered it. “Uh”—she thinks for a second—“I don’t know. There were a lot of smells there, with the food and all. Plus, Spike’s not, like”—in love with you—“around you enough to know your smell.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, nodding and looking slightly less panicky. “That’s good.” She closes her eyes, forehead wrinkled with emotion. After a second she asks in a small voice, “Will you hug me?”

The empty feeling in her chest dissipates, and Faith laughs. “Yeah, you little weirdo, c’mere.” She reaches for Buffy.

Buffy makes a wet, offended noise against Faith’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“You don’t have to ask,” Faith says, rubbing her back. “You can just hug me.”

Squeezing her tighter, Buffy says, “Today sucked.” Her voice is muffled by Faith’s shirt.

“I know,” Faith says, although she thinks the morning decidedly did not suck. It was just the rest of the day. “What can I do?”

“We could watch a Christmas movie?” Buffy suggests.

“Sure,” Faith says.

“And maybe there could be more pie.”

Faith smiles against her hair. “You find a movie; I’ll get the pie?”

Leftover pumpkin pie and a Christmas schmaltz make some headway against the tension Buffy’s carrying in her body. By the time her empty plate is discarded, Buffy’s got a blanket across her lap and she’s engrossed in Miracle on 34th Street. Faith decides she doesn’t even mind that she lost the argument over which movie they’ll watch.

(“Batman Returns is not a Christmas movie, Faith!”

“It’s Christmas in the movie. How is it not a Christmas movie?”)

Faith watches her more so than the movie. Buffy still looks drained from the day. She hesitates only a moment before she puts her arm across the back of the couch and asks, “You wanna come here?”

Buffy looks over. Surprise flickers across her face before she nods. They rearrange themselves, Faith making room for Buffy to burrow against her side. When they’re both stretched out, Buffy is tucked in Faith’s arm, head resting on her shoulder, lying between her and the back of the couch.

“You good?” Faith asks, stroking Buffy’s arm.

“Mhmm,” Buffy says, squeezing her middle.

“Good.” She can feel Buffy relaxing against her, and Faith’s body naturally follows her rhythm, their breathing evening out, muscles loosening.

“Hey,” Buffy says at length, sounding a little sleepy, “before I forget, Mom and I want you to come for Christmas.”

Faith glances away from the TV. “You gonna actually stay for the whole thing this time?”

Buffy sighs. “Yes,” she says, sounding put out.

Having gotten the response she wanted, Faith smiles. “Then yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I was thinking you could stay over on Christmas Eve too,” Buffy suggests, “if you want?”

Faith thinks about spending Christmas Eve with Buffy and her mom, probably watching movies and eating sweets, then waking up with Buffy on Christmas morning. They probably watch the parade on TV and have some traditional Christmas breakfast food that Joyce makes for them. It’s a lot more involved than just coming over on Christmas day, but oddly, she likes the idea. “Okay,” she says, “but you’re not getting me in Santa pjs.”

“I figured you’d be getting me out of mine, actually.”

Faith looks down to see a sly expression on Buffy’s face.

“Guess I’ll be getting your mom earplugs for Christmas if I ever wanna look her in the eye again.”

Buffy snickers. “So… that’s a yes?”

“Yes,” Faith agrees.

Chapter Twelve

“When’s your mom getting back?” Faith asks.

They’re sprawled across the couch, one of Faith’s legs across her lap. Buffy looks up from where she’s lightly circling Faith’s ankle with a roll-on pain reliever. “Sunday afternoon,” she says. “Why?”

Faith shrugs. She holds an ice pack against Buffy’s shoulder, a cold reward for being thrown soundly into the side of a mausoleum on patrol. “Does Willow think you’re spending the weekend at home?” Faith asks instead of answering. Her thumb traces idle circles against Buffy’s bicep.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. She pokes the sole of Faith’s foot with her free hand. “Why?”

“I’m off til Sunday,” Faith says. “You could hang out here if you want. We could order takeout and lay around.”

Buffy’s pleasantly surprised by the offer. Angel’s secret appearance back in town yesterday still has her feeling out of sorts. Faith ended up sleeping at the house with her last night, but it didn’t seem like either of them were up for more than sleeping. Buffy hasn’t been sure if Faith really believed her when she said she wasn’t in love with Angel, or whether things are a little weird between them now. Deciding to test the waters, she smirks and says, “Lay around, huh?”

Faith smiles widely. “Yup.”

“You just want me to stick around so you have someone to wait on you and your broken ankle,” Buffy teases.

“Duh,” Faith says, rolling her eyes. She flexes her ankle experimentally, wincing a little. “It’s not broken. Sprained maybe. It’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you hadn’t jumped off the crypt, you might not have rolled it.”

“I’m injured in the line of duty and this is the thanks I get?” Faith asks, pouting. “You’re the one who made a Buffy-shaped dent in the side of the building.”

“Technically I think it was the demon that used me as a battering ram that did that.”

“Which is why I had to jump off the roof,” Faith says. “Needed the element of surprise.”

“Uh huh.”

Faith asks, “This your way of telling me you have other plans for the weekend?”

“Oh,” Buffy says, “no, I can stay.”

“Cool,” Faith says, grinning at her. “Wanna start the movie?”

“Sure.” Leaning carefully forward, Buffy snags the remote. “What’d you get anyway?”

“You’ll see,” Faith says with what can only be described as a suspicious amount of enjoyment in her voice.

Buffy hits play, watching the opening credits and waiting to see what Faith’s about to spring on her. The opening scene begins on a long range shot of a city by night. The captions flash: GOTHAM CITY. Groaning, Buffy says, “You rented it?”

“Batman and Batman Returns, baby,” Faith says, sounding gleeful.

“Did I say I was free this weekend?” Buffy asks, pretending to lift Faith’s leg off her lap. “I just remembered I have a thing.”

“You do have a thing,” Faith agrees. “Two Batmans with me.” She carefully removes the ice pack from Buffy’s shoulder and sets it on the floor before asking, “How’s that?”

Moving her shoulder carefully, Buffy evaluates. “Still a little sore,” she says, “but better.”

Reaching for the neck of the t-shirt Buffy’s borrowed from her, Faith tugs it aside, trying to get a look at the skin underneath. Buffy glances down. There’s a pretty big bruise.

Faith makes a displeased noise. “Should have killed that fucker slower.”

Buffy snorts. “That’s kind of at odds with the element of surprise.”

“He’d be surprised by me dismembering him slowly.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Buffy says without thinking, then immediately freezes. Oh God, why did I say that? She opens her mouth to start walking that back in some way, but Faith just laughs.

“Yeah?” Faith leers at her. “Is me romantically talking about slaying really doing it for you?”

Buffy smiles. “Maybe.” She drags her fingertips up the inside of Faith’s calf suggestively.

Faith looks at her hand and then back at her face. “Are you just trying to get out of watching Batman?”

“Maybe,” Buffy says again. “Is it working?”

Faith kisses her.

XXXXX

They do end up watching both Batmans, but it takes quite a while. On Saturday, she wakes up to soft lips on her stomach, Faith’s long hair tickling her sides where her t-shirt is pushed up.

“Mmm,” Buffy murmurs happily, her voice still thick with sleep, “good morning.” She puts an arm around Faith’s shoulders.

“Morning,” Faith says against her skin before mouthing her way to Buffy’s hip bone.

Buffy’s back arches. “Been up long?”

“A little while,” Faith says, her voice muffled, “just thinking.”

“About what?”

Faith stops what she’s doing long enough to look up, her face still rosy from sleep, soft brown eyes meeting Buffy’s. “About what I wanted to do to you once you were up.” Her hand slips under Buffy’s shirt, warm when it meets her breast and gives a welcoming squeeze.

“And what’s that?” Buffy asks, her fingers sliding into Faith’s hair. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of waking up to this: Faith’s bedhead and her bare face, her froggy morning voice, and her hands already touching Buffy. Any day that starts out like this is automatically better.

“I wanna taste you,” Faith says, nuzzling at the shorts Buffy’s wearing. “Want you to come in my mouth.”

Buffy’s response is an unintelligible noise. She’s been awake for all of two minutes, but her body’s quickly getting caught up on the situation.

Faith guides one of her knees up, then kisses her mound through the fabric. “You smell so fucking good,” she says, moving lower. “How do you always smell so good?”

Even through two layers of fabric, Buffy can feel Faith’s mouth moving against her. She shudders. “I—do I?”

“Uh huh,” Faith says, pressing her face harder against Buffy’s shorts. “Drives me crazy.”  Her fingers hook in the elastic waist of the shorts, pulling it down just a little bit. “When we see some good action on patrol… all that blood pumping… sometimes I can’t even look at you.”

She’s dragging Buffy’s clothes down further, bringing her mouth to the newly revealed skin. “I can tell how bad you need me,” she says, her mouth hot against Buffy’s stomach, “how wet you are.” Faith pushes her panties down with her shorts, so they’re barely covering Buffy at all.

Buffy’s breath hitches, and she squirms. She reaches for Faith’s hands, trying to move them down further.

Faith ignores that, licking at the crease of Buffy’s leg meeting her hip. When she speaks, her breath is hot against the wet skin she leaves in her wake. “Makes me want to fuck you right there in the open.”

Buffy whines in disappointment as Faith releases her grip on her shorts and sits up.

That earns her a smirk. Faith takes the bottom of her own shirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it aside before she reaches for Buffy’s shorts again. She doesn’t need Buffy’s help to get them off, just easily yanks them over her hips and down her legs.

Parting her legs accommodatingly, Buffy makes room for Faith between them. Faith doesn’t immediately arrange herself on her stomach, but instead pushes Buffy’s sleep shirt up higher.

“I wanna see you,” she says, following her hands with her mouth.

Buffy’s fingers thread in Faith’s hair as her tongue finds her nipple. Faith’s body hovers over hers, warm legs braced around Buffy’s, her chest pressed into Buffy’s lower belly. As Faith moves her lips over Buffy’s breast, starting to move down her body, she can feel the drag of Faith’s nipples across her skin.

She makes an impatient noise, tugging Faith’s hair just a little.  

Faith laughs against her stomach and slides further downward, kissing Buffy’s thigh now.

Buffy groans, rolling her hips ineffectively upward. She thinks about the first time they did this, that night in the hotel and how good it felt.

“Faith?”

“Uh huh?” Faith asks, dragging her teeth against the skin of Buffy’s inner thigh.

“Remember that thing you did in Fresno?” Buffy asks.

“I did a lot of stuff in Fresno,” Faith says, licking a stripe up Buffy’s leg. “Which thing?”

Saying it out loud seems daunting. Buffy focuses instead on the feeling of Faith breathing against her skin, warm and quick, making Buffy’s body break into goosebumps.

“What thing, B?” Faith asks again, this time looking up at her.

“Um, you—your chest—you kind of rocked it against me?” She can feel her face burning. It’s weird. It’s a weird thing to ask for and Faith’s gonna think she’s—

“Oh, that thing,” Faith says, her voice teasing. “You liked that?”

Buffy nods.

Instead of coming closer, Faith sits up. “I’ve got an idea,” she says, moving off of Buffy and lying beside her. “C’mere,” Faith says, “get on top.”

Buffy’s confused by this abrupt change, but she does as instructed, sliding her leg across Faith so she’s straddling her hips.

“Gotta lose this,” Faith says, tugging at Buffy’s t-shirt.

Once Buffy’s naked, Faith’s hands frame her hips. “Scoot up,” she says.

Buffy lifts her hips a little.

“No, up here,” Faith says, pulling her hips forward.

Buffy sees what she’s getting at. “Oh, you want me to—”

“Yeah.” Faith nods.

A little uncertain about this, Buffy moves up Faith’s body. As she’s trying to figure out exactly how to make this work, Faith cups her right breast, and guides Buffy over it with her other hand.

She lets herself sink down then, the softness of Faith’s breast pressing between her spread lips. Faith’s nipple is stiff, pushing against the center of Buffy’s slit.

Faith adjusts a little, and her nipple slips upward, bumping across Buffy’s clit.

Her gasp is more surprise than anything else, but Faith looks up. “That good?” She asks, dragging her nipple across Buffy’s clit again.

“It’s different,” Buffy says. “Not sure yet.”

Faith nods like she gets it. “You can sit down more,” she says, and Buffy follows her instructions. “Try rocking?”

She glances at Faith’s face to make sure this is really okay, but Faith’s eyes have drifted downward again. As Buffy starts to roll her hips, Faith groans softly. Buffy doesn’t exactly have the same view, but she can just make out the pink, shiny tip of Faith’s nipple slipping free and then being covered again as Buffy moves.

It feels nice enough—not really mind blowing—but she does get to see Faith’s face, her eyes fixed on the place where their bodies are meeting, and that Buffy really likes. She lets herself grind down just a little harder, and Faith’s hand moves to her thigh, squeezing encouragingly.

“Is it good for you?” Buffy asks.

“Yeah,” Faith says, her voice sounding a little shaky.

Buffy’s not going to come from this, but Faith’s reaction is interesting. “Is it that you get to watch me, or is it the feeling?”

“Both,” Faith says, looking up at her for a second through fluttery lashes.

“Yeah?” She asks, slowing her movements down and moaning a little as she rolls her hips.

Faith’s fingers dig into her leg as she goes back to watching Buffy move. “So fucking pretty,” she says. “So wet.”

Buffy’s hand finds Faith’s hip, steadying herself. “You like me getting you all wet?” She asks.

“Uh huh.”

She can feel Faith’s muscles tightening and releasing under her hand and that gives her an idea.

Faith jolts in surprise when Buffy’s fingers slip between her legs. The surprise on her face quickly gives way to pleasure, and she spreads her legs wider, inviting Buffy to stay.

The angle is a new one, with Buffy having to lean back to reach her, but Buffy adjusts quickly, getting her wrist positioned just right and pushing two fingers inside Faith.

Grunting, Faith squeezes Buffy’s thighs. Her eyes skip up to Buffy’s, beautiful and dark, and the heat in them makes Buffy’s stomach tighten. Buffy thrusts in again and watches Faith’s lips part, a soft whimper on her tongue.

Buffy presses her palm to Faith’s clit. Her fingers plunge and retract with the motion of her hips as she rolls them against Faith.

“Fuck,” Faith mutters breathlessly. She looks down again.

Faith’s chest is slick where they slide against each other, and Buffy can feel herself getting wetter. Watching Faith’s face, seeing the impact of every slide and thrust, little tendrils of pleasure blossom through her belly.

Around her fingers, Faith’s muscles already feel taut. She’s meeting Buffy’s thrusts with her hips, pulling her fingers deeper and harder inside her.

“I—” Faith groans, then tries again, her voice breathless, “—I was supposed to be making you come.”

“And you will,” Buffy says sweetly, “after.”

Faith nods emphatically, her grip tight on Buffy’s thigh.

She switches from rocking her hips up and back to circling, Faith’s nipple pressed against her and taking all the slick friction between them.

Faith’s breath shudders free. “Buffy—"

“That’s it, baby,” Buffy says, feeling Faith’s body squeeze her fingers. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You are,” Faith manages, her eyes slipping closed as her face tightens in concentration. “So good.” Her teeth dig into her lip. “Harder?”

Buffy can do harder and faster, and she does, relishing the feeling of Faith in her hand, slick and hot and tense. Buffy can feel how close she is, can see it in the flush spreading across her chest, the pulse pounding in her throat. The consistent motion between her own legs is starting to get to her, her pussy tight and frustrated, dragging slowly toward release.

Faith gets there first, her head rolling back as she moans. She clenches down on Buffy’s fingers, her thighs coming together as her hips buck. Buffy watches it play out on her face, Faith’s lips trembling, her forehead creased and then relaxing all at once, as a smaller, softer groan spills from her mouth.

Buffy slows her motions, riding out the spasming with her.

Underneath her, Faith’s damp with exertion, her cheeks and lips flushed, hair a wild halo around her. She’s beautiful—Buffy’s always been able to see that—but Faith all wrung out and limp with pleasure is something else. Buffy’s chest aches looking at her, filled with something she can’t define. Not just joy or lust, although they’re there, but something tender. It swells in her, this nameless thing, until she finds her eyes are damp and she has to blink to clear them.

That’s the moment when Faith opens her eyes again and smiles up at her. “Your turn?” She waits for Buffy’s nod before she opens her legs, releasing Buffy’s hand from her grip.

As soon as Buffy’s extracted herself, Faith’s hands are on her hips, maneuvering her upward.

Buffy gets as far as “What are—” before Faith’s got her mouth on her, and her words disappear into a moan.

Apparently skilled at doing two things at once, Faith manages to guide Buffy’s legs to a comfortable position on either side of her face even as her tongue is gliding over Buffy’s slit. Buffy flails, finally getting a hand on the headboard to steady herself.

Her body’s response to Faith is immediate, like she’d been paused and Faith’s just hit play on all every nerve ending she has. She’s too warm, her thighs shaky, the pressure inside her building quickly.

Faith groans against her, full lips kissing Buffy’s clit before her tongue laps at it. Her hands move to Buffy’s ass, squeezing and holding her firmly in place.

Buffy whimpers as the pace picks up, grinding her pussy against Faith’s mouth. Faith sucks at her, hard and then softer, her tongue relentlessly swirling around and around Buffy’s clit, until she starts to feel dizzy.

She can feel herself clenching, needy and empty, and she says, “I want your fingers.”

Faith doesn’t miss a beat, sliding a hand around her chin and giving Buffy what she asked for. Her fingers ease the ache inside Buffy, stroking in rhythm with her tongue. They curl and press, producing waves of heat through her.

Buffy tries to hold out, wanting this to last longer, but Faith’s moaning against her, and she can feel her thighs starting to tense.

She whimpers Faith’s name, and Faith looks up, dark eyes meeting hers.

“Fuck,” Buffy pants, bringing her free hand to Faith’s hair. Her thumb strokes Faith’s temple. “So good.”

Faith makes a mhmm noise, circling her clit faster still.

A loud groan tears from Buffy’s mouth, her hand gripping the headboard as her pussy starts to tighten around Faith’s fingers.

Faith’s eyes are still locked on hers. Buffy struggles to keep her eyes open as warmth rushes through her and she starts to tremble. Her orgasm rushes through her, electric and hard and pulsing, and she jerks on top of Faith, pressing harder against her mouth for a moment until it becomes too much.

Then she’s whimpering, trying to pull away from the sensation overload. Faith helps, pulling her fingers free and lifting Buffy’s waist while her legs feel like spaghetti.

Managing to at least lift her leg over Faith’s face, Buffy collapses in a sweaty heap next to her. She’s dimly aware of Faith laughing and then getting up. She returns a minute later, smelling of soap and climbing onto the bed behind her.

Arms slip around Buffy’s middle and she finds herself being spooned by a very warm, very naked slayer.

“You still with me, B?” Faith asks.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says, drowsy again.

Faith pulls the sheet up around them and then kisses her cheek, before nuzzling her nose into Buffy’s hair. “I’ll give you half an hour,” she says, “then we need food. And a shower.”

“Mmm, food,” Buffy agrees sleepily. She snuggles closer. “Sounds good.”

XXXXX

Patrol gets off to a late start. Faith thinks that sacrifice was more than worth it as they needed time to finish the Batman-a-thon. Buffy whined before and after each of the movies, but really, that only made it more fun for Faith. Plus she knows damned well that Buffy was as glued to the screen as she was for every second Michelle Pfeifer was slinking through the frame in a catsuit.

The late hour means less of nocturnal threats like vampires, with most of them making their way back indoors a good few hours before sunrise. It doesn’t necessarily mean fewer demons. Faith’s not sure whether she should be glad they happened to come out late and cross paths with the two that they’re currently fighting. It’s better them than some innocent bystanders, but these guys have hands like sledgehammers and fucking ow.

They’re ugly to boot, chalk white with thick red ridges starting at their eyes and curling around their heads, baggy turkey necks, and forked tongues. Still, none of that grosses her out as much as the third eye each of them is sporting on the backs of their heads.

“Stop! Trying! To! Lick! Me!” She hears Buffy yelling. Each word is punctuated by a metallic crunch as she brings a broken floral easel down on the thing’s face.

Faith’s opponent hasn’t tried much licking yet. It seems content to clean her clock with its giant fists. Fortunately, she’s just a bit quicker than it is. It’s gotten in a few good hits, but she’s still on her feet.

And she’s got her favorite knife in hand.

She ducks a powerful swing, and the demon’s hand practically disintegrates the lamppost it meets instead, plunging them into deeper darkness. Faith takes advantage of the disorientation, grabbing the demon by the back of its cloak and flinging it face first into the spindly bench beside the lamppost.

The bench collapses under a roar of displeasure and demon brawn. Then the creature is back up, wheeling on her.

Faith’s ready, blocking its next blow with her right arm and using her left to drive the blade into its chest. She pulls it back lightning quick, then plunges in again. Once more, and she’s got blueish blood splashing onto her wrist.

The demon falls forward, almost on top of her. It’s injured but it’s not dead as it lands on its knees. She kicks its back, quickly flicking her eyes to Buffy.

She’s definitely slayed the easel, which now sits in a crumpled heap beside her. The demon looks similarly worse for the wear, with its head only partially attached and a growing puddle of blood under it. The funerial flowers once held by the easel litter the ground around it with a sea of white petals. Buffy is bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

One down, Faith thinks, and sets her sights on the demon in front of her. It’s trying to struggle back to its feet now, hissing in pain and fury. Or maybe that’s the sucking chest wound at work.

Either way, Faith doesn’t let it get far. Grasping the hilt of her knife in both hands, she brings it down with expert precision, sinking it into the thing’s third eye with a squelch.

She releases the knife, letting it sink with the demon to the ground. 

It doesn’t move again.

“Is it dead?” Buffy asks from a few feet away, pressing her sleeve to her bleeding lip.

Panting, Faith nudges the unmoving body of the large, pale demon sprawled face down on the ground in front of her. “I think so.” She stoops down and yanks her knife free from the back of the demon’s skull. Wincing at the dripping goo on her blade, she wipes it off on the demon’s cloak. “Got it in the eye. Yours?”

“Dead,” Buffy confirms.

They meet at the un-slayed bench on the opposite side of the path, leaving the demons behind as they begin to disintegrate.

“Love when they do that,” Buffy mutters, before carefully cupping Faith’s neck and standing on her tiptoes to look at the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

Faith can feel the start of a lump forming under her hair, courtesy of the demon’s oversized fists. “I’m good,” she says. “You?” She takes Buffy’s chin in her hand, looking at her split lip.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Faith watches as her tongue darts out to meet the cut in her lip.

With it being firmly in ‘middle of the night’ territory, the cemetery is silent around them. Standing close like this, she can hear Buffy’s heart still racing from the brawl they’ve just won.

Her eyes skip back to Buffy’s, finding them wide and dark in the shadows of the graveyard. The space between them shrinks, Buffy shifting closer and sliding her fingers into Faith’s hair.

It feels like every cell in her body is awake and alive, all her senses working overtime. Her skin hums with Buffy’s touch, and Faith leans into it, the softness feeling even sweeter after the physicality of the fight they’ve just come through.

She knows Buffy’s feeling the same way. Faith’s always known, even when Buffy was too chickenshit to admit it. Slaying isn’t that much different than fucking. There’s a build up and a big finale. All that tension released, the feeling of satisfaction when it’s over. There’s a reason it’s called blood lust. Only once it’s sated, you’re left alone, your body still raring to go and looking for the next challenge.

Faith wasn’t kidding when she told Buffy that sometimes she can’t even look at her after patrol, for exactly that reason. She can feel that need between them now, in the way Buffy presses against her, in the heat coming off her body, the same as Faith’s.

Slaying alone always got her juices flowing, but slaying with Buffy opens the floodgates. She’s done her job; the world is safer. Now she wants her reward. She wants to lick the copper out of Buffy’s mouth, wants to peel her pants off with her teeth, and spread her legs to see a victor’s feast laid out for her. 

“You wanna go home?” Faith asks, because Buffy’s lips are on her throat, and her self control is slipping.

“Uh uh,” Buffy says, scraping her teeth down Faith’s neck.

Faith’s body reacts, her pulse quickening, her stomach forming a knot of anticipation. Her hands find Buffy’s hips, squeezing. “Don’t tease me, B, come on.”

“Not teasing,” Buffy says, her voice soft by Faith’s ear. “I don’t wanna wait until we get back. I want you now.”

Buffy’s skin is hot when Faith’s hands slide under her shirt onto her back, muscles warm and ready to fight. “Here?” Faith asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

In response, Buffy starts to walk her backward, onto the grass. Faith lets herself be propelled away from the path, until Buffy has her pressed to the cool granite of a mausoleum. “This okay?” Buffy asks, even as her hands are moving to the button of Faith’s pants.

“Fuck,” Faith says, grabbing Buffy’s biceps and yanking her flush against her. “Yes, very yes.” She kisses Buffy hard, forgetting about the cut on her lip until Buffy whimpers. “Sorry—” Faith starts, but Buffy cuts her off with another bruising kiss and drags her zipper down.

Spreading her legs a little, she tries to make more room for Buffy’s hand. It’s a tight squeeze but Buffy makes it work, and a moan rips from Faith’s throat as Buffy’s fingers slip into her wetness.

She zeroes in on Faith’s clit, not really have the range of motion for much more, but that’s fucking perfect, that’s exactly what Faith needs. Her head rolls against the wall behind her, teeth clenched and trying not to leave bruises where she holds Buffy’s shoulders.

“Faith,” Buffy murmurs, “lift your shirt.”

Faith blinks dumbly at her.

“Your shirt,” Buffy says, using her free hand to tug at the bottom of Faith’s tank. “Bra too.”

Scrambling to obey, Faith pulls her shirt upward. She reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra so she can more easily pull it upward. The air is cool against her bare skin, but Buffy’s eyes roaming over her make her feel like she’s on fire.  

Buffy’s mouth curls into a very satisfied smile. “Yeah,” she says huskily, dipping her finger further down Faith’s slit and dragging it back up, wetter than before. “That’s what I wanted.”

She shifts, lowering her head and locking her mouth around one of Faith’s nipples. Immediately, her tongue starts to work at it, swirling and lapping.

“Fuck,” Faith mutters, one of her hands pulling Buffy’s hair back so she can see her face. The hand between her legs speeds up, Buffy trying to mimic the movements of her mouth against Faith’s clit.

Buffy’s free arm wraps around her waist, keeping Faith pinned where she wants her and supporting her as her legs tremble. Faith’s barely remaining upright, eyes glued to Buffy’s mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks, and she casts a mischievous glance upward when Faith grunts loudly in response.

The pressure on her chest releases as Buffy switches tactics. She turns her head just a little and starts to flick her tongue across Faith’s nipple, slow and hard, making sure Faith can see what she’s doing as much as feel it. Each flick sends a jolt through her, and Faith whimpers, loud and desperate.

Buffy stops what she’s doing long enough to switch sides. She kisses her way across Faith’s tits, making contented little sounds as she goes.

Faith’s already dangling by a thread, and the wet heat of Buffy’s mouth engulfing her other nipple is almost enough to send her into free fall. “Buffy,” she groans, squeezing her eyes closed.

There’s a soft mhmm from Buffy, then a wet noise as she starts to suck harder. Her fingers move faster against Faith’s clit.

A frustrated whine escapes Faith’s clenched teeth. She’s so close.

Buffy releases her nipple and stands up straight, crushing Faith against the mausoleum with her body. Her mouth finds Faith’s neck. “This is just round one,” she says, her lips moving against Faith’s skin. “As soon as we get home, I want you naked.”

She clutches Buffy harder, embers igniting low in her belly.

“I can’t even wait to take you to bed,” Buffy says. “I want you in the hall, on the floor.”

Faith’s cunt is tightening rhythmically, desperate to come now. “Buffy, Buffy—”

Buffy’s breath is hot against her throat. “You’re already so nice and wet for me,” she murmurs. “I just want my face in your pussy.”

The sound that Faith makes is obscenely loud for this time of night, and she jerks in Buffy’s hold as the tension in her breaks. It’s sharp and deep, startling her with an intensity that takes her breath away, leaving her gasping and sagging into Buffy.

A second peak hits right after, helped along by the softer circles Buffy’s still lavishing on her clit. Faith shudders, another small cry escaping her.

Buffy’s hand stops moving, and she kisses Faith’s neck gently. She holds most of Faith’s weight while Faith catches her breath, carefully removing her hand when Faith finally opens her eyes.

“Hi,” Buffy says sweetly, squeezing her.

“Hi,” Faith says hoarsely. “Jesus Christ, B.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

Buffy grins.

Steadier on her feet now, Faith reaches behind herself and re-clasps her bra. Then she primly pulls her shirt back down.

Watching her, Buffy raises an eyebrow flirtatiously and asks, “Ready to go home for round two?” She surreptitiously wipes her hand on her pant leg.

Faith hooks her fingers in the waist of Buffy’s pants and tugs her closer again. “You seriously think I’m gonna let you walk out of here right now?”

“Did you have something else in mind?” Buffy asks, all doe eyed faux innocent.

Reaching down, Faith cups her through the thin spandex of her pants. “Yeah,” she says when Buffy gasps and grabs her arm, “but if you want me to stop…”

Buffy shakes her head.

“Good,” Faith says, bringing their mouths together.

She licks her way into Buffy’s mouth, still stroking her through her pants. Buffy’s warm against her hand, damp through her outerwear, and she whimpers into their kiss.

The two orgasms Buffy just gave her have done little to dampen how much Faith wants her. Sex with Buffy is like that for some reason. Pre-Buffy, she was always chasing her own climax. Sure, she’d make sure her partner finished—she’s not a complete asshole—but primarily it was about what she was getting out of it. With Buffy though, she loves getting her off. Now, she can feel her heart racing in her chest from the way Buffy’s breathlessly kissing her back.

Buffy’s hands are in her hair, tugging and gripping. Faith can feel the beginnings of desperation in her touch, in the way her mouth becomes more determined, biting at Faith’s.

Retracting her hand, she grips Buffy’s waist in both hands. Buffy makes a little sound of protest when she gently pushes her away.

Faith meets her eyes, feeling something hot and satisfied in her stomach when she sees how wild Buffy’s look. “Turn around,” she says.

Buffy’s forehead creases in confusion, but she does what Faith asked.

Once she’s facing the mausoleum, Faith nudges her closer to it, lifting Buffy’s hands as she does. She arranges Buffy’s palms against the wall over her head.

“Faith—” Buffy starts, cutting off as Faith presses against her back.

Faith sweeps Buffy’s hair over one shoulder, leaving her neck bared to her lips. Her other hand snakes under Buffy’s shirt, finding one of her tits and squeezing.

Moaning, Buffy pushes her ass back against Faith. She gets louder when Faith’s hand moves back between her legs.

Sucking her way along Buffy’s throat, Faith enjoys the feeling of Buffy squirming against her for a minute. She keeps her touch soft.

Buffy expresses her discontent with this quickly, whining out a little Faith that’s as cute as it is sexy.

Relenting, Faith runs her hand over Buffy’s hip and follows the curve of her ass until she’s pressing between her legs from behind. Buffy pushes against her fingers eagerly, spreading her legs a little.

“You want me to fuck you?” Faith asks into her neck, her voice low.

Buffy nods quickly.

She has to pull her hand away to tug Buffy’s pants down her hips, but Faith finds her way back a moment later. She leaves Buffy’s pants stretched tight across her thighs, taking a second to admire the view. Buffy’s bare skin is pale in the grainy moonlight. She’s leaning forward slightly, her back arched, her ass backed into Faith’s crotch.

Faith makes an approving sound, slipping her hand between them. Buffy’s dripping, her thighs slick with it, and Faith groans as she drags her fingers along Buffy’s slit.

Buffy whimpers, pushing back against her hand.

“Aww,” Faith says, teasing her a little, “my poor baby.” She strokes one fingertip lightly over Buffy’s clit. “You’re so worked up.”

Buffy moans low in her throat, opening her legs as much as she can with her pants still on.

“So hot.” Faith circles now, enjoying the fullness of Buffy’s clit under her touch for another few seconds. “So wet.” Her free hand is back inside Buffy’s shirt, alternating between her tits.

“It’s—mm—your fault,” Buffy says breathlessly.

“I don’t think it was all me,” Faith says pointedly, “but I appreciate the ego boost.” She moves quickly from Buffy’s clit to her opening, sliding two fingers snugly into Buffy’s cunt.

Buffy bites back a cry, rocking back against her fingers as best she can. She braces herself with her hands against the granite.

Leaning against her, Faith kisses Buffy’s throat. She starts moving her arm, lazy, smooth strokes in and out of Buffy’s pussy.

Hips rotating, Buffy grinds against Faith’s hand, forcing her deeper.

“Mmm,” Faith says encouragingly, “that’s good. There’s my girl. Keep doing that.”

Buffy seems to like that, rolling her hips more roughly.

Faith moves her hand down from Buffy’s tits, getting a grip on her hip so she can increase her tempo. “Wish I could watch you taking my fingers,” she says, fucking Buffy faster. “The way you’re pulling me in. Bet your cunt looks so pretty like this.”

Groaning, Buffy drops her head, long hair swaying with each of Faith’s thrusts.

Faith is pretty single-mindedly focused on what she’s doing, so it takes a little longer than it would have otherwise, but beyond the haze of Buffy Buffy Buffy she feels so amazing she smells so good holy shit, she becomes aware that something feels a bit odd.

She doesn’t falter in her movements, but Faith lets a tiny bit of her concentration shift. The back of her neck is prickling. Very slightly, she lowers her head to kiss Buffy’s shoulder through her shirt, conveniently doing a visual scan of the darkened cemetery at the same time.

Far off, where the cemetery backs up to tall trees not yet felled for additional grave space, Faith pinpoints the source of the feeling. Something is in the trees. And it’s watching them.

Against her cheek, the muscles of Buffy’s back shift as they move together. She’s breathing hard, each exhale a soft noise of pleasure.

Faith squeezes her hip. “B,” she says, too quiet to be overheard, “we’ve got an audience.”

She can feel the shift in Buffy immediately, her attention being pulled in a new direction. Faith nudges her lightly to the right. “By the trees,” she murmurs.

Faith hasn’t stopped fucking her, but she does slow down some. Buffy’s fingers dig into the mausoleum wall, trying to ground herself. Her voice is steadier when she whispers back. “I see her. Vamp?”

“Probably,” Faith says. “Whatever it is, it’s just watching for now.” Her hand leaves Buffy’s hip, dipping between her legs and finding her clit. “Not that I blame her.”

“Should we”—Buffy grits her teeth, obviously swallowing down a groan—“should we stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Faith asks, rubbing her clit a little harder.

“Fuck,” Buffy mutters, struggling to keep her eyes open against the dual sensations of Faith inside her and Faith stroking her clit.

“Doesn’t feel like you do,” Faith says.

“I don’t wanna get attacked.”

“She’s not gonna interrupt,” Faith says, eyeing the spot in the trees again. “She just stumbled upon two hot chicks fucking in a cemetery. She’s going to stay for the whole thing.”

Buffy looks torn. “I’m not sure I can concentrate,” she says. “My head is all slayer stuff now.”

“Hey,” Faith slows her hands until she’s just softly circling Buffy’s clit, “we can stop if you want. Go slay this vamp and take the party home.”

“Or?” Buffy asks, her voice trembling.

“Or,” Faith says, “you close your eyes and let me worry about the vamp.” She nuzzles her nose into Buffy’s hair, kissing the back of her neck. “I’m keeping an eye on it. I won’t let her get anywhere near you, okay?”

Buffy nods. A second later, her eyes close.

Faith checks the trees again. The vamp’s still in the same spot, barely visible among the trees. “She’s not even a vamp,” Faith says, starting to languidly fuck her again. “Just someone out for a walk who happened to catch us.”

Buffy exhales hard, and Faith can feel her body relaxing a little, recentering on what they’re doing.

“She can’t believe her fucking luck,” Faith says, “seeing you like this. Watching us.”

“Mmm.” Buffy seems to have successfully put the vamp out of her head. She rocks back against Faith’s fingers, and Faith obliges her by going a little harder.

It might be her imagination, but she’s pretty sure Buffy’s even wetter now. “You like that, huh? Thinking about someone watching?”

Buffy hesitates a second, then she nods.

“Well, let’s give her a show then.” With that she plunges her fingers in as deep as she can, wrenching a cry free from Buffy’s mouth. “Mmm,” Faith murmurs, her breath hot against Buffy’s throat. “That’s it. Show her how good I fuck you.”

Buffy moans loudly at that. “Faith—”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” She lets her fingers slip to either side of Buffy’s clit, working it between them. “She’s probably got her hand in her pants right now, wishing she were me.”

“Oh, God—”

“Thinking about getting her hands on you, how wet you are, how good your pussy feels.” She can feel Buffy’s clit twitch at that, and Faith smiles against her neck. “Pull your shirt up.”

It takes Buffy a second to squeak out a confused, “Huh?”

“I want her to see those pretty tits,” Faith says against her ear, checking the trees while she does. She can see the vamp now, its face in human form, watching them intently.

Buffy pulls her shirt up, the fabric bunching under her arms. Faith doesn’t have a good view, but she can imagine it: Buffy’s tits bouncing as Faith fucks her, her own arm pressed to Buffy’s stomach while she plays with her clit. It’s an incredibly hot image, but it also sparks a different feeling in Faith, something greedy and possessive.

She pulls her hand back and bottoms out again, curling her fingers a little.

Whimpering, Buffy finally breaks the pose Faith put her in so she can clutch Faith’s arm.

She can feel Buffy’s cunt starting to flutter around her fingers. Buffy’s gasping her name in great gulping breaths, and Faith relishes it, breathing hard in her ear while they move together, Faith’s chest to her back.

“Almost there, B,” Faith whispers, her voice low and soft. “You feel so good.”

Buffy’s nails dig into Faith’s forearm as she rubs her clit faster.

“I wanna hear my name when you come,” Faith says. “Want her to hear it.”

An affirmative groan is her answer, Buffy’s body tensing against hers.

“She can look, but you’re mine,” Faith says, crooking her fingers more sharply.

Buffy shudders against her. “Faith—”

“Just mine,” Faith says, her teeth finding the place on Buffy’s neck that always makes her melt. “Say it.”

“Yours,” Buffy breathes, her voice shaking, “I’m yours.” Her next breath is practically a sob, and then Faith’s name is spilling from her lips, echoing through the quiet as she falls apart in Faith’s hands.

Faith holds her while she shakes and sways on her feet. She has to squeeze her legs together as she feels Buffy’s body tightening around her fingers. She’s been the cause of it more times than she can count now, but watching Buffy come never gets old. She’s flushed, her mouth open, hair sticking to her sweaty neck, the most beautiful thing Faith’s ever fucking seen. She knows with sudden and vicious clarity that she’s going to kill that vamp for daring to have seen Buffy the way Faith gets to.

How fast can she slay this fucking vamp and get Buffy home?

In a move so predictable that Faith wants to roll her eyes, the vamp starts meandering toward them. Show’s over; time for dinner. Faith very gently frees her hands from Buffy, kissing her neck when she lets out a small moan in response. Her one hand is soaked, and she brings that to her mouth, sucking her fingers clean quickly. The taste of Buffy in her mouth makes her throb, but Faith ignores that, focusing. She promised to take care of the vamp issue, and she will.

With moderately clean hands, she helps Buffy straighten her clothes. “You’re a helpless coed, yeah? Do what I do.”

“Huh?” Buffy asks, clearly still a little dazed.

“Perfect,” Faith says. She puts her body between Buffy and the approaching vamp, pretending she’s just noticing her as the vamp strides up. She plasters a nervous look on her face.

“Hey ladies,” the vamp draws, flashing a knowing grin, “having a good night?”

Buffy giggles, and Faith’s honestly not sure if that’s an act or if she’s just giddy.

The vamp looks at her, taking another step closer, its eyes locked on the pulse pounding in Buffy’s throat.

She waits until it’s in grabbing range, then catches its arm and spins, tossing it into the side of the mausoleum with ease. The vamp is momentarily stunned, then its eyes widen in terrible understanding.

“That’s right,” Faith says, satisfaction bringing a grin to her face. “All the humans in the world you could have played Peeping Thomasina with, and you picked the only two slayers.” Her stake feels solid in her hand.

“I didn’t—”

Faith’s stake is in its heart. “What was that?”

The vamp explodes.

“Ah,” Faith says, pocketing her stake. “Must not have been important.” She turns to find Buffy leaning against the mausoleum, her head tilted and a soft look on her face. “What?”

“Take me home,” Buffy says.

Faith feels warm all over. “Let’s go home.” She holds out her hand.

Buffy takes it.

Chapter Thirteen

Walking into the cafeteria, Buffy scans the room until she finds Shannon’s blond ringlets, currently pulled back into a ponytail and making a valiant effort to escape. She beelines toward the table, setting her tray down at an empty space. “Hey!” She greets them both, leaning over to hug Tara.

Tara stretches upward, patting her back. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

“It was a little bit crazy,” Buffy says, releasing her and taking a seat. She can’t reach Shannon but nudges her foot under the table, prompting an answering smile. “What about you guys?”

“Mine was okay,” Tara says. “My cousin and I did all the cooking. Glad to be back though.”

Buffy nods politely, starting to dig into her pasta. She glances at Shannon, waiting for her response.

Shannon grins broadly. “Mine totally sucked,” she says.

Tara and Buffy exchange confused looks.

“But!” Shannon says. “I got back yesterday, and you won’t believe what happened.”

When neither of them volunteer any guesses, Shannon says excitedly, “I got mugged!”

Buffy’s totally lost now. Beside her, Tara asks, “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay!” Pushing her tray to the side, Shannon leans closer. “Okay, so get this. I went to the gym, hoping to see you know who, but she wasn’t there. Bummer, right?”

They both nod.

“So, I start walking home. I’m on the far side of campus, over by the field, when I start to hear someone following me,” Shannon says. “I’m a little worried, but I’ve taken a bunch of self-defense classes, so I’m gonna be fine.”

“Oh, my God,” Tara says.

Shannon nods. “I know! So I’m almost past the field when this guy pops out and grabs me. I try to shove him off, but he’s like on steroids or something, like seriously strong, and then”—she pauses for dramatic effect—“she appears out of nowhere, grabs the guy, flings him off me, punches the shit out of him, and he takes off running.”

“Who?” Tara asks, but Buffy’s already getting a bad feeling about this.

“Gym girl!” Shannon says. “I finally got her name, and—”

“Oh no,” Buffy says before she can stop herself.

Looking puzzled, Shannon asks, “What?”

“Nothing!” Buffy says quickly.

“You said, ‘oh no,’” Shannon says, frowning.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Buffy says before shoveling a bite of pasta into her mouth. Oh no oh no oh no. They continue staring at her, and she realizes she’s going to have to say something. “I just realized I think I know gym girl. Is her name Faith?”

“How did you—"

“Oh no,” Tara says, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Buffy takes another hearty bite of pasta, chewing quickly although it tastes like ash in her mouth now.

“Okay, will someone tell me what the hell is happening?” Shannon demands, looking between them.

Tara steps up in Buffy’s reluctance. “Gym girl”—she points to Shannon—“is benefits girl.” Tara now points to Buffy.

“Oh shit,” Shannon says, her face falling. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I had no idea.”

Buffy hates seeing the disappointment in her face. “It’s fine,” she says quickly. “We’re not dating or anything.” She doesn’t sound convincing even to herself. “It’s fine if you like her. Fine.”

Now they’re both staring at her like she has two heads. “Buffy,” Shannon begins.

“Really!” Buffy insists. “It’s not a big deal.” Her eyes are burning a little, but that’s definitely from the red pepper flakes in her pasta. She just needs some water.

Shannon and Tara exchange looks.

“What?” Buffy asks.

Tara reaches over, putting her hand on Buffy’s wrist. “Sweetie, I think it’s a bigger deal than you know.”

Buffy gulps down water like she’s been wandering in the desert for days. “Huh?”

“She means,” Shannon says gently, “that you’re kind of in love with her.”

Immediately, Buffy scoffs. “I’m not in love with her.” She takes another large drink of water. Boy, those pepper flakes really have stamina. Her eyes are watering. “I have some feelings, sure, but that’s—it’s nothing. No big deal. And she doesn’t feel like that about me anyway.”

Shannon leans across the table and flicks Buffy squarely in the forehead.

“Ow! What—”

“You have big feelings. It is a big deal,” Shannon says severely. “And she has them for you.”

“She’s right,” Tara says, squeezing Buffy’s wrist before she lets go. “I know you can’t see yourself right now, but all Shannon said was that Faith helped her escape a mugging, and you look like you want to cry and throw up.”

“That’s just because,” Buffy starts defensively, before trailing off, realizing that there’s nothing she can say.

“There we go,” Shannon says, nodding. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“But you like her too,” Buffy says.

“I did,” Shannon agrees easily, “because she’s a total babe. Like, it cannot be overstated how hot she is, but I’d be a pretty crappy friend if I really wanted to go after your girl.”

Scanning Shannon’s face, Buffy finds no sign that she might not be sincere. Her blue eyes are calm and kind when they meet Buffy’s.

“You need to talk to her though," Shannon says firmly. “The next hot blond she meets in the gym isn’t gonna stand aside for you.” She fluffs her hair to show she’s joking, at least a little.

“Agreed,” Tara says. “You have to tell her how you feel. The longer this goes on without you talking about it, the more likely one or both of you are going to get hurt.”

This sounds like the kind of advice she would definitely give to someone else, but taking the advice, that’s a different story. Still Buffy nods, trying to take their words to heart.

Squinting at her, Shannon asks, “You’re just appeasing us, aren’t you?”

“No,” Buffy says quickly. “I’m listening. I’ll definitely try to say something.”

“Buffy,” Tara says sternly.

“I know!” Buffy forks at her pasta despondently. “But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Instead of Shannon’s quick reassurance, Tara is the one who responds. “Then you’ll know,” she says, like it’s easy, like the knowing isn’t what Buffy’s afraid of. “Either way, you’ll know.”

XXXXX

Buffy tries to take her friends’ advice—she really does—it’s just harder than they realize. She’s not completely oblivious to her own feelings. It’s just that it’s been easy to pretend nothing’s wrong. She sees Faith almost every day. They hang out; they laugh together; and they’ve grown closer. Faith’s let down her guard, letting Buffy see when things bother her, showing Buffy that she cares about her too. Her arrangement with Faith gives her almost everything she needs.

After Angel, she’d thought she just wanted something normal and easy. Another slayer who also happens to be a woman wasn’t really what she was expecting, but, in most of the ways that matter, what she has with Faith is that. Sure, they’re both slayers, but that makes even the abnormal parts of her life feel normal. Buffy doesn’t have to hide who she is or change anything about herself. She doesn’t have to push down her desire to be touched. She doesn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be with Faith. Buffy’s satisfied, in and out of bed. In fact, she’s actually happy with her life, for probably the first time since she was called.

There’s just the little problem of this still being an agreement between friends.

She’s been trying to think of a way to tell Faith how she feels for weeks now. It’s hard, really hard. As close as she thinks they’ve become and as much as she knows Faith cares about her, it’s still scary to consider telling Faith she wants more. Sometimes she thinks her friends are right, that Faith does have feelings for her. But Faith’s never professed much fondness for traditional relationships—in fact she seems to avoid them like the plague. What if telling her ruins everything?

She’s still thinking about it when they trudge through the door to her room after patrol. Willow’s not home, having been suckered into spending the first night of Hanukkah with her parents. Buffy had been excited to hear that when Willow told her, anticipating being able to stay out or have Faith stay over without questions, but after spending all of patrol working up her nerve and then losing it again, her excitement is somewhat tempered.

As she’s kicking her shoes off, Faith’s arms slip around her from behind. Soft, warm lips meet the nape of her neck.

Predictably, her body responds immediately to the feeling of Faith pressed against her back and the warmth of her breath against her skin. Buffy closes her eyes, trying to get her mind on board. They have so few opportunities to spend the whole night together these days. She doesn’t want to miss one, but she keeps hearing Tara’s voice in her mind. Either way you’ll know.

“Faith,” she says softly.

“Hmm?” Faith squeezes her a little, one hand slipping under her shirt to rest on her stomach.

“I’m not really in the mood,” Buffy says, twisting away from her hold.

Faith looks a little concerned. “Did I do something?”

Yeah, you made me have feelings for you. “No,” Buffy says, “I’m just feeling kind of blah, I guess. I think I’m about to get my period.” That’s not a lie, but it’s not the reason she’s not in the mood.

Buffy sits at the head of her bed, expecting Faith to start putting her jacket and boots back on. Instead, Faith pads across the floor to join her.

Confused, Buffy says, “You don’t have to stay. I know you were expecting—”

“You still feel like hanging out?” Faith cuts her off.

“Uh,” Buffy says, surprised, “yeah.”

“Then move over, dummy,” Faith says lightly. Buffy does, and Faith sits beside her, stretching her legs out. She picks up Buffy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Does your back hurt?” She asks. “Want me to plug in the heating pad for you?”

Looking at their joined hands, Buffy feels a smile creeping over her face. “No,” she says. “I’m okay.”

“You have to tell her how you feel,” Tara says in her mind. “The longer this goes on without you talking about it, the more likely one or both of you are going to get hurt.”

Not now, Buffy thinks. Not tonight. But soon. I’ll do it soon.

XXXXX

Faith prowls though Restfield Cemetery, eyes peeled for signs of Buffy or Spike. Apparently, Spike has escaped from his confinement at Giles’s place, and Buffy’s out rounding him up. Faith kind of doesn’t see what the big rush is, given his chip. He’d probably come back to Giles’s place in a few days, moaning about his hunger pain and begging for some pig’s blood.

This is her second graveyard of the night. Sunnydale Cemetery was a bust, and if she’s gotta hit Shady Hill, it’s way on the other side of town. She should really come up with a way to slay from her car.

As she’s making her way toward the southern exit, Faith notices a flash of peroxide hair through the trees. There’s Spike, and Buffy’s already caught up with him. “Finally,” Faith mutters, annoyed, starting toward them. They seem to be bickering about something, neither of them having noticed her yet. Suddenly, Spike grasps Buffy’s arms and yanks her closer to him. He doesn’t double over in pain immediately the way that he should, and Faith feels her blood run cold. Is his chip malfunctioning? She breaks into a run.

She’s almost reached them when Buffy winds her arms around Spike’s neck. It takes a second for her to understand what she’s seeing because Spike is kissing Buffy.

What the fuck?

Reaching the two of them, Faith grabs Spike’s shoulder and rips him backward with extreme force. He sails into a tombstone, crumpling to the ground. Quickly, Faith turns back to Buffy. “Are you okay? Why—”

“What the hell, Faith?” Buffy demands, pushing past her.

Faith can’t believe her eyes. Buffy crouches beside Spike, offering him a hand up. Once he’s on his feet, she cradles his face in her hands, looking for signs of injury. For his part, Spike leans into it, making a little pouty face and reaching for her.

When Spike’s pale hands go for Buffy’s waist, Faith charges forward again. Buffy doesn’t move, but Spike takes a quick step back. “Touch her again, bleach boy,” Faith says in a low voice. “I’ll remove every one of your fingers and shove them individually up your ass.”

Spike must be feeling brave with Buffy standing between them. He rolls his eyes, turning toward Buffy again, but she holds up a hand to stall him a moment. Giving Faith a hurt look, Buffy says, “Don’t threaten my fiancé.”

That stops Faith in her tracks. Fiancé?!

She blinks at the two of them. They’re back to looking at each other with a deranged sort of affection.

Faith’s first instinct is to knock Buffy out and carry her bodily to Giles’s house. Obviously, she’s being mind-controlled or love spelled or she’s under the influence of some kind of demon. But Buffy’s more than capable of defending herself, and it’s going to be hard to get the jump on her. For his part, Spike looks equally enamored with Buffy, so it doesn’t seem that whatever’s happening here is his fault.

Trying to find some kind of lead, Faith asks, “When did you get engaged?”

“Just tonight!” Buffy lifts her hand, showing Faith one of Spike’s clunky rings on her finger.

“Uh huh,” Faith says, resisting the urge to tear it off her hand, “and didn’t you hate each other like 12 hours ago?”

“Well,” Buffy says, “I think maybe we always fought because we couldn't admit how we really felt about each other.”

Spike shrugs. “She makes my blood boil—all that self-righteous, goody two shoes slayer power nonsense. Makes me want to tie her to a wall.” He licks his lips, gazing at Buffy. “Have her bound and gagged, give her a taste of the Big Bad.”

Buffy’s looking at him the same way she looks at a rack of ribs after patrol. Feeling vaguely nauseous, Faith steps between them and lowers her voice. “B, something is going on here. Something’s messing with your head. Think about this.”

“Faith—”

“Think about last night,” Faith says, emphasizing her words carefully, “and this morning. If you were in love with Spike, why would you have done that?” And by that, she means them falling asleep together last night, followed by the very thorough exploration of Faith’s body Buffy was engaged in this morning.

Buffy frowns, and for a second Faith thinks she might be getting through. Then she shakes her head. “I know you’re not crazy about Spike,” she says, “but once you get to know him better, you’ll see what I see.” She turns doe eyes at Spike, smiling softly.

So logic is out. Maybe I should stake him? Will that break the spell or cause Buffy to murder her in revenge?

I need Giles.

“Have you told Giles yet?” Faith asks, not waiting for a response before she continues. “You gotta tell G. Don’t want him to be the last to know, right? Plus, he’s probably worried. You should let him know you found Spike.”

Buffy nods enthusiastically, then looks at Spike. They have a silent conversation with their eyes. To Faith’s view, Buffy seems to want to go with her. Spike seems put out about it. Finally, Buffy looks back at Faith. “Okay,” she says, “but let me tell him! I want him to hear it from me.”

“You got it,” Faith says, reaching for Buffy’s wrist and dragging her to her side. “Let’s go, fangless,” she hisses in Spike’s direction, making sure to keep herself between the two of them as they march toward Giles’s apartment.

XXXXX

Buffy’s staring dreamily through the window into the bridal shop, talking a mile a minute about her wedding day will be the best day of her life, and Spike will be such a handsome groom, and does Faith think Giles would be willing to walk her down the aisle?

Faith is doing her best to tolerate this, grunting occasionally in response. She’d pinned her hopes on Giles being able to figure this out, but he’s apparently newly blind and in need of assistance. Spike (surprisingly) suggested a basic reversal spell might be of use. Faith, in all honesty, is much less concerned with Giles’s inability to see than she is with Buffy’s betrothal to the evil undead, but she kind of needs Giles to help her figure out what’s happened to Buffy. So, she signed on to Team Cure Giles and went with Buffy to the magic shop. Unfortunately, the shop was out of Tagas root. Giles is doomed to remain blind at least another day, which means Buffy is probably going to remain out of her freaking mind for another day, and Faith’s subsequently going to be driven out of her mind by listening to Buffy and Spike talk about invitations, and venues, and décor.

And that’s if they don’t sneak away to consummate their engagement. The thought of that sits like a stone in her stomach.

Beside her, Buffy finally stops talking, frowning over at Faith. “You could at least pretend to be listening,” she says, sounding hurt.

“I was listening,” Faith says immediately. “You like the one with the uh—the fluffy bottom?” She gestures at one of the more dramatic gowns showcased in the shop window.

Crossing her arms, Buffy looks even more disappointed. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

Buffy gestures in her general direction, obviously upset. “This! Not being happy for me, acting like you’re jealous or something.”

Jealous? Of Spike? Faith laughs out loud. “I’m not jealous of you and Spike. You hate him, and as soon as we get this reversal spell done, you’ll be back to hating him.”

“I love him,” Buffy declares passionately.

Faith doesn’t mean to do it, her eyes just roll on their own.

“That’s not fair,” Buffy says, and now her eyes are a little watery.

The teary eyes get to her, and Faith softens a little. She has to remember: this is real for Buffy. She’s gotta do a better job at pretending that she’s taking this Spike engagement seriously. “Okay,”  Faith begins, reaching for her arm, “I’m—”

Buffy wrenches her arm away. “You didn’t want me!” She says. “I was just something to pass the time for you.”

Faith blanches, the words hanging in the air between them. “What are you talking about?”

Owlish eyes blink back at her. “I deserve to have something real,” Buffy says in a smaller voice. “Was I supposed to wait forever?”

The hurt is obvious in her voice. For a moment, Faith just stares at her, trying to make sense of this. ‘Wait forever?’ She thought they were on the same page all this time. Is this not working for Buffy? But she hasn’t said anything; she’s seemed happy even. It’s gotta be the spell making her say this stuff.  “Buffy,” Faith says gently, “I—”

“Just forget it,” Buffy says, sniffling. “Doesn’t matter now. Come on. We should get back and let Giles know about the Tagas.”

“I’m sorry,” Faith says, feeling like shit. The spell is influencing her, but for the moment, Buffy really does feel hurt. The least Faith can do is play along and not make this even worse. “Really, I am.”

Buffy nods a little stiffly. She doesn’t look like she’s in a forgiving mood.

Glancing at the display window, Faith points to one of the dresses. “You’d look amazing in that one.”

Re-focusing on the wedding dresses seems to thaw Buffy a little.

“And Giles will definitely agree to walk you down the aisle.”

“You think so?” Buffy perks up slightly.

“Yeah,” Faith says, “of course.”

With a final lingering look at the dresses, Buffy starts to walk. “Do you think I should take his name?” She asks Faith brightly. “Or is that really old fashioned?”

XXXXX

As if she doesn’t have enough to deal with (planning a wedding is hard work! And she has a lit test on Thursday!), Xander and Anya are being relentlessly pursued by a horde of demons. Anya swears she knows how to summon this Dihoffman guy to get Willow back, but that’s only going to happen if they can hold off the endless supply of demons trying to break into the crypt with them. Just another Tuesday, Buffy thinks, but they’ll get through this, get Willow back, restore Giles’s vision, and then she really needs to tell her mom she’s engaged.

Xander shrieks from beside her as a long, scaly arm shatters the window over his head.

Does Mom still have her veil? Buffy wonders, grabbing the thing’s wrist and snapping its arm like a twig. Actually, is it bad luck to wear her veil? It’s not like her parents are the poster children for a happy marriage. They’re nothing like her and Spike. We’re going to last.

She hears a snarl from behind her, and the doors to the crypt finally burst open. Demons stream in. Buffy rushes into the fray, yanking a particularly ugly specimen away from Faith, eyes already searching for Spike. She finds him punching a blue skinned creature with too many arms.

“Buffy!”

God, he’s so sexy.

Faith shoves past her with an aggravated noise, and Buffy glances back to see her taking up position in front of Anya, who’s slowly getting up from the ground. Buffy frowns. There are too many demons here. They can’t fight them all. They need to get Xander and Anya to—

“Spike!” Buffy cries, seeing him bowled over onto his back. She leaps into action, kicking the demon who’s attacking him through the open doors to the crypt. Turning, she drops to her knees. “Spike, are you okay?”

He blinks up at her, his lips curling into a smile that makes her heart thud harder. “Slayer.”

Spike reaches for her, and she leans into his arms, quickly bringing their mouths together. Thank God he’s okay!

She hears talking behind her, and it sounds vaguely like Willow. She should probably see what’s going on, but he’s such a good kisser. Oh, Spike—

Thunder claps, loud enough to shake the crypt. Startled, Buffy looks up.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Spike cries, shrinking away as Buffy practically leaps off of him.

Oh God, oh God, ohgodohgod eww. “Spike lips!” Buffy wipes frantically at her mouth. “Lips of Spike!”

Cutting through the horror, she hears Willow say, “Hi, guys.” Buffy looks up to see her waving sheepishly. Faith stands beside her, and the moment Buffy’s eyes meet hers, everything she’s said and done tonight comes flooding back in full technicolor.

“Everyone okay?” Willow is asking, but Buffy hardly hears her over the runaway train of her own thoughts. She probably thinks I’m crazy. I can’t believe I said that. Her face is hot, and she blinks back the prick of tears. This isn’t how I wanted her to find out.

“No!” Spike is complaining. “There’s not enough whiskey in the world to wash the taste of slayer out of my mouth!”

“Oh, boo hoo, you made out with Buffy,” Anya says. “Xander and I almost died several times.”

“Buff,” Xander asks from beside her, “you good? You look a little green around the gills. Not that I blame you.”

She nods automatically. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m just gonna—” She gestures toward the crypt door, then turns and flees.

It takes her most of the walk home to get her galloping thoughts under control. As horribly embarrassed as she feels, maybe this is a good thing (other than the fact that she can still smell Spike on her clothes—pigs’ blood and cigarette smoke doesn’t make a good combo when you’re not under magical influence). The cat’s out of the bag now. And Faith was pretty annoyed by seeing her with Spike. She said she wasn’t jealous, but she certainly seemed to be. Maybe this is the opening she needed. They’ll talk it out, and then Buffy will know where they stand.

She just needs to figure out what to say.

XXXXX

Faith pulls the door open, without checking who stands on the other side. She can sense that it’s Buffy already. When she sees Buffy on her doorstep, in fresh clothing and looking relatively unscathed, relief rushes over her. She’s spent the last few hours worrying about Buffy—wondering if she’s okay, or if Faith managed to fuck this all up badly enough that Buffy doesn’t want to see her. She knows she didn’t help the situation by trying to get Buffy to face reality. “Hey,” she says, stepping back so Buffy can enter.

As Buffy squeezes past her into the apartment, Faith can’t help but touch her. Her hand finds the small of Buffy’s back. “Are you okay?” She asks, as Buffy unbuttons her coat. “You took off pretty fast.”

“I needed a little time to decompress,” Buffy says, hanging her coat on the hook beside the door. “Also a shower. A very long shower.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Faith leads the way into the living room. “I really tried to keep you guys apart, but you—well, you know.”