Fall of the following year was crisp, the winter sweeping in and exerting itself with ice and bare trees rather early compared to what some expected. Regardless, it wasn’t cold for Buffy, who was stirring a steaming bowl of soup that she had prepared for lunch, while listening to the pops and snaps of the logs on the fire through in the living room. She wore a smile she found impossible to erase every time she caught the now familiar sound of her lover’s voice paired with the eruption of delighted, squealing laughter.
Wiping her hands down on the front of her apron before precariously pushing a stray, dangling tendril of hair behind her ear, Buffy padded over to the door of the living room. She leaned against the frame, her expression both warm and fond as she crossed her arms over her chest. No light was on in the room, not even the TV, but the red glow of the fire cast dancing shadows along every surface. Faith didn’t notice, sitting on the soft, carpeted floor with her legs out in front of her. The baby lay on her thighs, wiggling and giggling as she gently ticked her stomach.
Buffy tilted her head and thought about the last fifteen months. After three months in the arid, austere plains of West Africa, Buffy came home to a warm reception. Her intentions from the plan to spend time apart had worked; Faith received her with open arms; very open arms. Of course, Buffy remembered, smirking and scuffing her toe on the carpet as Faith made faces at the laughing baby; it may have been the hormones. On the twenty-seventh of January, Emily Lehane was born to a pair of elated, sobbing slayers on the point of delirium.
Faith finally glanced up to see Buffy standing there. Her sheepishly grinning face was tinted orange with the amber of the fire. “Creeping on me, B?” She joked, her eyes glimmering with mischief.
Buffy laughed, coming down to kneel beside her lover. She ran one hand affectionately over Emily’s head, the child gurgling as if in approval at seeing her second mother. The day that Emily was born was the day that Buffy finally realized that no matter how tough the road had been, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Faith. This was her family now. She adored the Scooby Gang, who took well to the fact that they were now aunties and uncles, showering both the baby and the parents with gifts, as well as making themselves readily available to help wherever and whenever they could.
“Halloween is coming up soon,” Faith remarked offhandedly, glancing out of the window at the grey October day.
“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “You gonna scare away the trick or treaters like last year?”
Faith chuckled, glimpsing a half-smiling Buffy out of the corner of her eye, letting the crackles of the fire fill the comfortable silence for a while as she contemplated the question. “Nah, I don’t think I could. Maybe just the rude ones.”
“Faith, all of them are rude according to you,” Buffy said, ribbing her lover with an elbow before pressing her forehead to Faith’s temple, both of them staring down at the bundle on Faith’s lap. For a moment, the whole world was the three of them, nothing else mattered; as if the fire burning and lighting the dark room was the only light they would ever need and the world existing outside the brick walls of the house was nothing but a dream. With a content sigh, Buffy turned and pressed a loving, lingering kiss to Faith’s temple, who hummed as she pulled away.
“I made soup for lunch,” Buffy said softly, before her eyes once again got caught up in the sight of her daughter on Faith’s lap.
Faith nodded, kissing Buffy’s cheek, jaw line and then her lips once more before she gently lifted the baby into her arms. “You dish it out and I’ll put her down for a nap.”
“Sounds good,” Buffy said cheerily, standing up again and watching Faith carry Emily out of the room. Every time she watched Faith interact with their daughter, she couldn’t believe it. Her lover was so maternal, and protective, but she was also softer in everything from smiling to when she spoke with people. Buffy knew that since she first met the brazen woman, Faith had grown up, but this was something else entirely. It was as if she had more of an awareness and appreciation of both the world around her and the people that inhabited it. And Buffy couldn’t have been more proud.
Arms slipped to link around her waist as she finished serving the soup out into the two bowls. Buffy tilted her head to the side as tender kisses rained from just below her ear to her shoulder, where Faith was deterred from advancing because of the fabric of Buffy’s shirt. She huffed slightly, before turning the smaller woman around to face her. They share a sly smile, Buffy raising her hands to cradle Faith’s face and caress her high cheekbones with brushes of the side of her thumb bones.
“You’re so beautiful,” Buffy whispered, referring to the radiance of Faith’s skin and the shimmer of her dark eyes in the lights of the kitchen.
“Ah, you flatter me, Summers,” Faith muttered, dipping her head to kiss Buffy chastely, running her hands up to tease the hem of her shirt.
“Faith,” Buffy murmured, muffled by her lips on her girlfriend’s. “What about Emily…?”
“She’s sleeping,” Faith dismissed, travelling butterfly kisses down Buffy’s jaw.
“And the soup?”
“We own a microwave, don’t we?” Faith said huskily, ghosting her lips over Buffy’s ear, and grinning at the shiver that went through the smaller slayer. Her hands tripping down to the backs of Buffy’s thighs, Faith hoisted her up, making Buffy wrap her legs securely around Faith’s waist. They stared at each other for the longest time.
And then they smiled.