Faith peers anxiously through the throngs of people spilling into baggage claim, damp knit hat clutched in her hands. She’s sure the plane took off, and thank God it did, since the rest of the flights for the day have been cancelled due to the developing storm. According to the TV screens posted all over the place, the flight landed 15 minutes ago. She’s been standing here for all that plus another 5 minutes, torn between excitement at seeing Buffy any minute, and anxiety about how well the car will fare in the snow on the way home from the airport. The airport’s really not that big. Where is Buffy?

It’s been six weeks since they last saw each other, a planned trip three weeks ago aborted due to a minor apocalyptic event on the Cleveland hellmouth. Since then, Buffy’s seemed a little off. She hasn’t been cold exactly, more like she’s been distracted whenever they talk.  Faith was half convinced she just wouldn’t show up today. Maybe she’s bored of this thing with them. Maybe it only got started because they were stranded in the barren grounds, with no resources to use but each other. In a way, that probably makes more sense than the idea of the two of them really making it—of this really being a relationship.

A new bolus of people streams through the sliding glass doors and into baggage claim. Faith stands behind a group of kids with huge markered signs reading Welcome Home, Mom! and pulls out her cell phone to check for missed calls for at least the tenth time. No calls. Her last text is from Dawn, assuring her that yes, Buffy’s plane was able to take off. Flipping the phone closed, she looks up and spots a short blond behind two particularly tall men. She slides the phone in her pocket and steps out from behind the family, a tentative smile on her face.

The men turn left, and Buffy keeps straight, looking around the sea of faces. Her eyes land on Faith, and she breaks into a wide grin, putting some extra speed in her step.

Walking forward to meet her, Faith feels herself relaxing. They meet in the center of the walkway, an older lady glaring at Buffy when she almost plows into the giant duffel slung over her shoulder. “Hey,” Faith says, reaching for her waist. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Sorry,” Buffy says, leaning in and wrapping strong arms around her. “I stopped to freshen up. Long flights always make me look like a Kleynach demon.”

Faith laughs, then brings one hand to Buffy’s cheek, pretending to assess her. “Hmm,” she says, “you don’t look scaly enough yet.”

“‘Not scaly enough,’” Buffy repeats with a huff. “That’s the best you’ve got after I haven’t seen you in an eternity?”

Faith presses a quick kiss to her lips then takes the strap of her bag. Slinging it off Buffy’s shoulder and onto her own, she wraps her arm around Buffy and starts walking them toward the exit. She leans in, her mouth close to Buffy’s ear and says, “You know you look amazing, and that every second that we spend in this airport instead of in my bed is torture for me.”

Trying to keep a stern face, Buffy fails miserably and a smile breaks through. “Then by all means, take me home.”

“I’m trying,” Faith says. The sliding doors open, expelling them into the outside world. They’re hit full force in the face with a gust of wind carrying icy snowflakes.

“Always with the snow,” Buffy says, gritting her teeth and squinting. “Tell me we aren’t taking your bike through this.”

“Through a blizzard?” Faith asks, steering her toward the parking structure. “Why not? I thought it’d be an adventure.”

“Faith,” Buffy complains, pulling her coat tighter around her.

“Relax, B,” Faith says. “I borrowed a car. It has heat and four wheels even. We’re driving home in the lap of luxury.”

XXXXX

Forty minutes later, they finally find parking a few blocks over from Faith’s building. Expertly parallel parking in spite of the snow and the tight fit, Faith smiles in satisfaction and puts the car in Park. She gets out, plucks Buffy’s bag from the trunk, then comes around to the passenger side and opens the car door for her. Several inches of unshoveled snow coat the sidewalk, and Buffy looks down at her extremely cute, extremely not waterproof boots in dismay.

“Just like old times!” Faith says, having to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.

Nodding her agreement, Buffy pulls the hood of her coat up over her head. “You guys don’t have any giant holes we might fall into, right?”

“Not unless you count the hellmouth,” Faith says, as they begin to trudge down the street.

By the time they arrive at her building, their hair is developing icicles, and snow coats the front of their shins. Stamping some of the snow off on the stoop, Faith unlocks the door and gestures for Buffy to go first into the small lobby. On her floor, she hands Buffy the key to her place and says, “I gotta return the car keys.”

Her cheeks are pink and hair windswept and starting to thaw. Buffy takes the keys. “Hurry,” she says, with a quirk of her eyebrow. “I need you to warm me up.”

Faith knocks on her neighbors’ door, and it’s almost instantly pulled open. “Hey, Mel,” Faith greets, holding out the car keys in her gloved hand. “Thanks for letting me bor—”

Mel nearly bodies into her, craning through the doorway and looking in the direction of Faith’s apartment. “Buffy!” She greets in a half shout.

“Ah, come on,” Faith mutters.

Having just unlocked Faith’s front door, Buffy glances back. She smiles when she sees the short woman waving at her. Setting her bag down inside the door, she retreats up the hall. “Hi,” she greets, holding out her hand.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Melosa,” Mel says, giving her a firm handshake. “I told Faith to bring you around, but you know this one.” She jerks her thumb at Faith and rolls her eyes heavenward.

Yanking her gloves off finger-by-finger, Faith grumbles. “Told you I’d bring her by if we had time.”

Looking entirely too delighted by Faith’s obvious discomfort, Buffy says, “It’s great to meet you.”

Mel leans back into her own apartment. “Jas! Come meet Buffy!”

They all hear the sound of hurried footsteps, then another woman appears in the doorway, her arm slipping around Melosa’s waist.

“My wife, Jaslene,” Mel says proudly.

Jaslene is tall and reed thin, the exact opposite of her tiny, plump wife. “Oh, you’re as lovely as Faith said,” she says to Buffy with a wide smile.

“Lovely, huh?” Buffy asks, looking at Faith.

The tips of Faith’s ears turn redder. “You guys are gonna give her a complex. She’s already cocky enough.”

Slapping Faith’s arm, Jaslene scolds, “This woman just flew… how many hours was it, Buffy?”

“About fifteen hours,” Buffy supplies, immediately schooling her face into an exhausted expression.

“Fifteen hours!” Jaslene repeats. She looks at Faith. “The least you can do is admit to all the nice things you say behind her back.”

“Fine,” Faith says, turning to face Buffy. “You’re lovely. Amazing. A goddess on this earth.”

“That’s more like it,” Jas says approvingly, before squeezing Mel’s waist. “How come you never tell me I’m a goddess on this earth?”

“I told you like twenty minutes ago that you’re an angel,” Melosa points out.

“Yes, but that was because I brought you another piece of pizza.”

Faith steps closer to Buffy, putting her hand on her back. “We gotta go get out of these wet clothes,” she says to her neighbors.

Two sets of brown eyes turn back to her immediately. “I’m sure you do,” Mel all but coos. “Let’s give the lovers a little time,” she says to Jaslene.

“Tomorrow though—you’re coming over for dinner,” Jaslene says. Before Faith can decline, she adds, “You love my pastelón. Don’t bother arguing. We’ll see you both at six.”

Sighing, Faith looks at Buffy, who nods enthusiastically. “We’d love to,” she says.

“You girls have a good night,” Mel says with a knowing smile.

“We will,” Faith says, gently pushing Buffy back down the hall toward her own door. She doesn’t looks back as she turns the knob, knowing full well the two of them are still standing there watching them.

Inside, she flicks on the lights, doing a quick visual check that the place looks presentable, even though she did that before she left. This is Buffy’s second time here, and just like last time, the studio apartment she finds good enough most of the time looks crappier when Buffy’s standing in it.  She’s acutely aware of the worn and scuffed wood floors, the exposed brick walls that are too crumbly to qualify as chic. She’s tried to work with the place’s good features, not because she cares what it looks like, but because she wants Buffy to want to come here. The large, industrial windows remain uncovered, showing off just a bit of the skyline in the distance beyond the swirling snow. String lights drape from the ceiling over her bed. In the bathroom, arguably the studio’s best feature due to the big, ancient bathtub, she’s crammed tiny shelves in between the exposed wood studs. Clusters of candles fill the shelves, ready to be lit.

They leave their boots by the door, and Faith takes Buffy’s coat, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. Buffy walks further inside, heading for the fish tank sitting on the breakfast bar separating the tiny kitchen from the main chamber. “Hey, Franklin,” she says sweetly, picking up the canister of fish flakes and shaking some free into the tank.

“Trying to fatten him up?” Faith asks, picking up Buffy’s bag and carrying it past her. She sets it on top of the weapons trunk at the foot of her bed.

“Yep,” Buffy says. “I want him to remember the nice lady who gives him double dinner.”

“I dunno,” Faith says, coming up behind her. “It’s been a while. Fish don’t have that great of memories.”

Buffy puts the canister down and turns around, her hands going to Faith’s hips. “I missed you, too,” she says, then kisses her.

This is far from the first time Buffy’s kissed her, but it’s still new. And sometimes, when it’s been a long time since they’ve last seen each other, it starts to feel like a really good dream. She’s allowed to kiss Buffy any time she wants?  She can call Buffy’s cell and hear her pick up with a soft, happy hey, and listen to her talk about her day, and some funny thing Dawn said, and burn through hours just listening to her? Sometimes, when they see each other, she’s still nervous about making the first move. Logically, she knows they’re doing this, seeing each other, but God, that’s a head trip. Buffy is hers. Hers and no one else’s. Faith’s not sure she’s ever going to get used to it.

“You said something about getting out of these wet clothes,” Buffy reminds her, her voice low and teasing.

“I did,” Faith agrees, her belly tensing pleasantly in response. She looks behind her to the bathroom door, partially closed. “Give me two minutes.”

She looks a little confused, but Buffy says, “Okay,” and releases her.

In the bathroom, Faith picks up her lighter and gets to work. There’s gotta be twenty  candles in here; she just kept buying more every time she saw one that looked the right size. She opens the cabinet under the sink and pulls out new, fresh from the dryer towels, carefully putting them on the towel bar. Satisfied that everything’s in order, she puts the drain stopper in place and turns on the water, waiting until she finds the perfect temperature before she straightens up. Then she turns off the overhead light and opens the bathroom door to find Buffy unpacking a few things from her bag.

Looking past her, Buffy spots the flickering candlelight and smiles. She drops the clothes in her hands and skirts the bed, coming to meet Faith in the doorway.

“Thought we could warm up,” Faith says. In the tiny bathroom, they have to work at not elbowing each other as they unzip and pull off garments.

“Shit,” Faith says, once they’re both naked. She squeezes past Buffy, retrieving the bubble bath she bought just for this and squirting a generous amount under the flowing faucet. Then she puts the bottle down and turns to Buffy, smiling a little awkwardly, unsure if she’s going to think all this is stupid or not.

Buffy’s face is soft, the corners of her mouth turned up. “This is perfect,” she says.

“Yeah?” Faith asks, breaking into a grin. Then she catches herself, holding out her hand to Buffy. “After you,” she offers.

Buffy takes her hand, stepping over the edge of the tub into the frothy water. She stays sitting up, waiting until Faith climbs in behind her and gets situated before she slides back, her hips fitting between Faith’s thighs.

Faith pulls her in snugly, her arm around Buffy’s chest. It is kind of nice, she has to admit. This is the only place she’s ever lived with a bathtub like this, and she’s used the tub, but mostly just to soothe aches and pains after patrol. She hasn’t made a big production out of it like this. Tilting her head, she kisses Buffy’s temple.

Sighing happily, Buffy puts one hand on Faith’s knee, the other resting on Faith’s forearm where it crosses her chest. “This position feels familiar,” she says.

“It was a little less naked last time,” Faith says, thinking of the night they spent riding out a snowstorm in a trench they dug themselves.

“True,” Buffy says. “Thank God for that little cabin.” Her cheek curls up as she smiles. “I’d probably never have gotten you naked if we didn’t find that.”

“You know all you ever had to do was ask nicely,” Faith says. “Hell, even asking not so nicely might have worked.”

“I know that now,” Buffy agrees. The tub’s getting quite full, and she sits up for long enough to turn the tap off. Then she settles back in Faith’s arms. “Your neighbors seem nice,” she says.

Faith had pretty much forgotten that whole scene in the hallway, and she groans now. “They’re nosy.”

“They’re sweet,” Buffy says, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith grouses. “I only get you for a weekend, and now I gotta share you?”

“Aww,” Buffy says. She leans sideways so she can turn enough to kiss Faith. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy.” She thinks about that for a second and then adds, “So all the time, basically.”

“Ha, ha,” Faith says, rolling her eyes.

“We’ll stay an hour or two, then come home,” Buffy says.

Buffy calling her apartment home gives Faith a warm feeling that has nothing to do with the tub. “You promise?” She asks, her mouth close to Buffy’s ear.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says.

“Because I have a lot of plans for you this weekend,” Faith says, her hand slowly migrating down Buffy’s chest until it dips beneath the surface of the water.

“Like wh—” Buffy stumbles as Faith cups her breast, gently squeezing. “What?”

“Well,” Faith says, her fingertips grazing Buffy’s nipple lightly, then a little harder, “I counted like nine different surfaces in the apartment, and I’ve only fucked you on three of them.”

There’s an audible uptick in Buffy’s pulse. Faith’s other hand moves onto her stomach, spreading out, the tips of her fingers just brushing the soft curls covering her mound.

“We really should be more thorough,” Buffy agrees her breath catching as Faith dips down to kiss her neck. “That’s so unlike us.”

Faith nibbles at the soft skin of her throat, and Buffy rolls her head accommodatingly onto Faith’s shoulder. “Does the tub count as a surface?” Buffy asks, her eyes closed.

“Hmm.” Faith stops kissing her neck long enough to respond. “I guess there’s ten then.” Her hand slides down between Buffy’s parted legs. Even with the water, she can feel that Buffy’s wet for her.

Buffy’s arm comes up, her hand slipping behind Faith’s neck and squeezing. “God, I missed this,” she says, as Faith gets reacquainted with the terrain.

“What did you miss?” Faith asks, sounding a little hoarse.

“The way you touch me,” Buffy says.

“Like this?” Faith asks, making her way to Buffy’s clit and capturing it loosely between two fingers. 

“Yes,” Buffy answers, her chest heaving a little with each breath. As Faith strokes her fingers up and down, Buffy repeats herself, “Yes, yes…”

“I missed this too,” Faith says, switching to Buffy’s other breast and rolling her nipple roughly. “How wet you get for me…”

Moaning softly, Buffy pushes her hips up toward Faith’s hand. The water ripples with Faith’s efforts, creating a gentle lapping sound against the sides of the tub.

“I missed being inside you,” Faith says, working over Buffy’s clit a little harder. “The way you squeeze my fingers. How tight you are.”

Buffy’s fingers tangle in her hair, and she tugs slightly. “You just gonna talk about it or are you going to do it?”

Faith straightens her legs, both hands leaving their current positions so she can lift Buffy’s legs so they’re on either side of her own. Then bends her legs at the knee, lifting Buffy higher and opening her thighs. Both hands move between them, her right back to Buffy’s clit, her left down further, two fingers sliding inside her easily.

“That better?” Faith asks, as Buffy groans and accidentally pulls Faith’s hair.

“I don’t know,” Buffy responds, although she’s out of breath, “you’re not doing much yet.”

Faith nips at her neck, pulling her fingers most of the way out, before plunging back in roughly. She listens to Buffy’s muffled curse with satisfaction. “That more to your liking, princess?”

“That’s,” Buffy starts, “oh, fuck.” Her fingers grip the edge of the tub as Faith repeats the motion. “That’s a good start,” she manages.

Ordinarily, Faith wouldn’t let this kind of challenge go unchecked. She might pull her hand away completely, just to hear Buffy whine about it and try to get her to return, but right now, she can’t bring herself to do it. She’s been waiting far too long for this. The weeks since they lost saw each other have been torture. Six weeks is probably the longest she’s ever actually gone without sex in her adult life, coma not withstanding, but she’s not about to screw things up by finding someone in between their visits to scratch that itch. Being with Buffy is worth the wait.

Pulling away now to teach Buffy a lesson would be hurting herself too. Faith needs this. She needs the vise of Buffy around her fingers, so warm even in comparison to the bath they’re in. She needs the pressure of Buffy’s hand in her hair, the strangled hitch of her breathing, the goose bumps on her damp neck under Faith’s tongue. They’ve done this many times now, but Faith has that same feeling every time—like she can’t ever get enough.  

Buffy’s legs are shaking, making slippery sounds against the sides of the tub. The water sloshes with the motion of Faith’s hands, one steadily massaging Buffy’s swollen clit, the other delivering deep, hard strokes that make Buffy jolt against her each time her fingers drive inside her. When she arches her back, Buffy’s partially above the water, and Faith looks down to see her nipples tightening in the cool air, pink and hard.

Her mouth waters thinking about sucking them, but the current position doesn’t allow for that. Faith contents herself with kissing Buffy’s neck, biting it a little harder here and there.

“Faith,” Buffy rasps, her head lolled back, mouth open and panting.

Faith’s gotten to know all the little sounds Buffy makes, but the sound of her own name tumbling from Buffy’s lips, sometimes choked out among whimpers, sometimes shouted like unrestrained joy, is her favorite.

Buffy goes rigid against her, and Faith’s mouth curls into a smile, pressing into Buffy’s neck. Under her fingers, she can feel Buffy’s clit starting to twitch, her pussy tightening and becoming wetter still. She shoves her fingers in to the hilt once again, leaving them in place as Buffy grinds down against her hand, her breathing a low whine. Faith keeps stroking her clit as Buffy groans and jerks in her arms, once, then again, and finally relaxes, breathing hard.

Withdrawing her hands carefully, Faith lowers her legs to the bottom of the tub so Buffy’s mostly submerged again. She hugs Buffy to her, arms across her chest, and kisses her hair lightly. Buffy snuggles against her, her hands coming to Faith’s arms and squeezing.

The water’s beginning to cool around them. They should get out soon, but Faith doesn’t rush her, just strokes Buffy’s upper arms gently, waiting for her to catch her breath. They’re becoming less strange for her, these afterglow moments. She can admit she actually sort of likes it, Buffy all flushed and sated, her warm, soft skin pressed against Faith’s while her heart beat slowly returns to normal.

A heavy feeling creeps slowly over Faith, like it does sometimes when they’re together. Because this is wonderful; having Buffy’s time and attention and her mouth and laugh, but she still wants more. She wants to be with Buffy all the time. And more than that, she wants to be able to tell her how she feels. She’s never actually told Buffy she loves her, never got closer than the night of their rescue from the barren lands. She tries to tell her in other ways, like picking her up from the airport in a blizzard, calling her when she knows Buffy has a break in her schedule just to say hi and hear her voice, or what she did tonight with the bath. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wants to actually tell her, out loud, honestly, looking into her beautiful eyes. Even though she knows Buffy can’t say it back. Sometimes it feels like it would be enough just for Faith to tell her.

This doesn’t seem like the time. Things have felt good between them since the airport, normal, relaxed, but she hasn’t forgotten the weird vibes she’s been getting from Buffy the past several weeks. It could be in her head, but she doesn’t think so.

“Chilly,” Buffy murmurs after a few moments, turning her head toward Faith’s mouth.

Faith shakes herself out of her thoughts and kisses Buffy’s forehead obligingly. “You wanna stay in? We could fill it up again.”

Shaking her head, Buffy says, “No, I want you.” She opens her eyes, looking at Faith through her eyelashes. “I can hold my breath a long time, but maybe not that long.”

She’s already raring to go at this point, but Buffy’s words send a pleasant little shiver through her. “Yeah,” she agrees, immediately releasing her. “Let’s go.”

Buffy laughs and grasps the edge of the tub, hauling herself up on unsteady legs. She steps over the edge of the tub, taking one of the towels from the rack and wrapping it around herself. Unplugging the drain, Faith follows suit, accepting the towel Buffy offers her. They dry off quickly, and Faith tugs her hair free of the messy bun it’s bound in, letting it spill down her cooling back. She quickly extinguishes the majority of the candles, then scoops up two of them.

Back in the main room, Faith cuts over to the light switch by the front door, flicking it off. Buffy stands at the edge of her bed, backlit by the faint city lights filtering through the large windows. The shape of her is soft in the dark, tousled hair falling around her shoulders, slivers of light showing between the inside of her arm and the slight curve of her waist. The candlelight gradually lights the way as Faith crosses the room, illuminating the details of Buffy’s naked body. Faith takes her in, the hollow of her throat, the shadowed undersides of her breasts, slim fingers just brushing the outside of her thighs. Her eyes are wide and hungry.

Setting the candles down on the little table beside her bed, she turns to Buffy, reaching for her arm. Buffy comes closer, hands traversing Faith’s hips and moving to her ass. She squeezes with one hand, the other sliding up Faith’s back and under her hair. Buffy brings their lips together, eagerly meeting Faith’s tongue with hers. It’s Buffy’s turn now, and she wastes no time in steering Faith backward toward the bed.

Faith’s calves bump the bed frame, and she moves to sit back onto the mattress, but Buffy’s arm tightens around her waist. She slides her free hand between Faith’s legs, exhaling roughly when she feels the wetness that’s waiting for her. Faith sways on her feet, off balance with the bed at the back of her knees, and puts one foot up on the mattress for support.

Buffy’s fingers slip between her parted labia, and she squeezes Faith against her, holding her solidly in place. She doesn’t stay anywhere long enough to please, greeting Faith’s clit briefly before she slides lower. She enters her shallowly, just barely inside her, and Faith grips her back, a little whimper breaking through her lips in spite of herself.

Smiling, Buffy withdraws her hand all together, then easily scoops Faith up in her arms. Faith’s flat on her back in the center of the bed almost before she realizes she’s been lifted in the air. Buffy’s grinning down at her, on her knees between Faith’s legs. “You’re such a fucking tease,” Faith complains, already missing the feel of Buffy’s fingers.

Shaking her head, Buffy shifts so she’s straddling one of Faith’s thighs. “I’m not a tease,” she says, sitting down so her spread pussy meets Faith’s leg.

Faith stiffens, reaching for her, but Buffy seizes her wrists and presses them down against the bed.

“I’d only be a tease if I didn’t deliver,” Buffy continues, as if she wasn’t interrupted. She grinds herself against Faith’s leg, not protesting when Faith lifts her knee and digs her heel into the bed to give her better leverage. She leans down, pressing the length of her body against Faith’s, and finds one of Faith’s nipples with her teeth. She smiles in satisfaction when Faith’s hips buck off the bed, and says, “And you know I’ll deliver.”

Faith’s fingers tangle in Buffy’s hair as she begins sucking and biting her way across Faith’s chest. She rocks herself against Faith’s thigh while she moves, her knee almost, but not quite close enough to touch Faith’s aching pussy. Buffy’s so damn good at taking her to the point where she’s ready to break down and beg her to touch her. Faith’s pretty sure that she’s never wanted anyone this badly. She’s never felt like she might actually just die from need before. She tries to wiggle her hips downward just a little, to get a little contact with Buffy’s knee, but Buffy moves her leg, tightening her teeth against Faith’s nipple.

The sound Faith makes is something between pain and pleasure, and Buffy releases her teeth, licking Faith’s nipple gently instead. Apparently having had enough of this game, she moves slowly downward, lifting herself off Faith’s leg. She kisses the soft skin of Faith’s abdomen, her fingers trailing down Faith’s sides behind her. Pausing for a moment at her mound, she situates herself on her stomach, hands on Faith’s thighs.

Faith’s practically vibrating in anticipation, one hand still in Buffy’s hair, the other fisted in the blanket.

Buffy kisses her mons, slowly inching down toward the warmth she can feel radiating from between Faith’s legs. When she gets there, she presses one soft kiss right above her slit. Faith’s about to lodge a protest, or maybe just shove Buffy’s face in her pussy because she can’t stand to wait another second, when Buffy leans in, plants her tongue firmly against Faith’s opening, and moves from there to her clit in one slow lick.

Faith’s hips bucks again, but Buffy’s ready for that, and she keeps Faith firmly planted on the bed.

She reverses course, giving a few gentle laps to Faith’s clit before she cups her mouth over her labia and winds her tongue around each of Faith’s inner lips. Faith’s noticed that, for a relative novice, Buffy’s extremely enthusiastic. There’s no trying to keep her face clean, no leaving space to breathe. She goes down on Faith like she can’t get close enough to her pussy, not content until she’s had her tongue on every millimeter of skin, somehow managing to breathe with her nose crushed against Faith’s mound.

By the time Buffy zeroes in on her clit, Faith’s so ready for it that she can’t help but moan. Buffy starts to lap at her slowly, using the flat part of her tongue to keep up constant pressure. Faith opens her eyes and looks down. Seeing Buffy totally focused on what she’s doing, her head bobbing up and down between Faith’s legs, somehow turns her on even more. She mostly stifles her ensuing groan, but Buffy hears her anyway and looks up. She swaps out her thumb for her tongue, and raises her eyebrows. “You like watching me eat your pussy?” She asks, licking her lips.

And Jesus Christ that’s hot. Her face is shiny in the candlelight, covered in Faith’s wetness, and she grins. “Uh huh,” Faith says, struggling to keep her eyes open and focused as Buffy circles faster with her thumb.

Dipping her head back down, Buffy moves her hand out of the way seamlessly to make room for her mouth. This time she captures Faith’s clit between her lips and starts to flick it lightly with the tip of her tongue.

“Fuck,” Faith mutters, trying to keep from thrusting against Buffy’s mouth.

Buffy gives her what she’s aiming for, pushing her mouth harder against Faith. She sucks lightly, trying something different, and looks up at Faith to see how she likes that.

Faith’s gripping the blanket for dear life, her back arching off the bed. Buffy holds her stomach down with one hand, keeping her from moving her hips, and sucks harder.

That sends Faith plummeting over the edge. Her hand tightens in Buffy’s hair as her muscles tense, a tingling sensation starting in her feet and quickly sweeping up the backs of her legs and into her groin.

Buffy doesn’t let up as Faith cries out, wringing every last second out of her orgasm, until Faith’s whimpering and tugging at her hair. Then she carefully releases her hold on Faith’s clit with a low mmmm of happiness. Faith’s vaguely aware of Buffy softly kissing each of her thighs and then moving up the bed and nudging her off the blanket so she can pull it over the two of them. Mostly her head is spinning, and she’s focusing on the gulping breaths she’s taking.

When she opens her eyes again, Buffy’s beside her, head propped on her hand, smiling softly down at her. She brushes Faith’s hair off her face gently. “You good?” She asks.

Good? She can barely feel her legs at this point. Faith rolls toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and snuggling her head into Buffy’s shoulder. “So good,” she says. “How are you so good at that?”

“I have a great teacher,” Buffy says cheekily, starting to rub her back.

Laughing, Faith kisses her collarbone. “Pretty sure you pulled out a few new tricks there. Maybe you’re teaching me now.”

“Any time you want to test out new techniques…” Buffy offers, rolling her hips toward Faith slightly.

“I’ll brainstorm a bit before I see you next,” Faith says dryly.

Buffy laughs, kissing her hair. She’s quiet for a long minute, her hands soft on Faith’s back.

The worry that something’s wrong creeps back in, and Faith squeezes her a little tighter.

“Big thoughts?” Buffy asks, her fingers combing their way through Faith’s hair.

Faith shrugs and tells herself to shake it off. Buffy’s here now; they’re together. No sense in worrying about tomorrow before it comes. She settles on saying, “Just missed you.”

“I missed you,” Buffy agrees. “Stupid apocalypse keeping me from my girl.”

Surprised, Faith repeats, “Your girl, huh?” A stupid smile starts on her face, and she’s glad Buffy can’t see it.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “Aren’t you?”

Faith would agree to be Buffy’s anything pretty much. “Guess I am,” she says happily.

“Well, that’s good,” Buffy says. “Otherwise I’d have some explaining to do at home.”

“Rumor mill churning?”

“Not so much the rumor mill as Dawn practically skipping through the halls singing, ‘Buffy’s in looooove,’ at anyone who asks,” Buffy says.

Faith’s pulse quickens but she keeps her voice nonchalant and says, “That kid loves to exaggerate.”

“She does,” Buffy agrees, “but for once she’s got it pretty right.”

Her lungs forget how to work for a second, and Faith goes completely still, instantly nervous.

Buffy’s hand moves to Faith’s cheek, and she leans back a little, looking down into her face. They stare at each other in the dark, Buffy’s thumb stroking lightly over her cheekbone. “I love you,” Buffy says softly.

It takes a minute for Faith to find her voice. She knows the words, has thought about saying them enough times, but hearing them from Buffy seems to have rendered her completely senseless. Buffy starts to look a little anxious, and finally Faith remembers how speech works. “I love you,” she sort of croaks. The words sound strange in her own voice, and she doesn’t think she’s ever said them out loud before, to anyone. Her heart is beating out of control, but Buffy’s beaming now, so she says it again, sounding more like herself and less like a frog. “I love you.”

Buffy kisses her forehead, her nose, then the corner of her mouth, smiling so big that Faith has to smile back. She cups Buffy’s face in both hands, bringing their mouths together. The kiss starts off soft, almost shy, slowly building in intensity until they’re pressing together, Faith’s leg over Buffy’s hip.

There’s no talking this time. No teasing, no games. Just fingers laced together, mouths slow and soft against tender skin. Just Buffy and Faith, giddy and joyful, making up for lost time.

XXXXX 

“Goodnight,” Buffy says, finding herself wrapped in an exuberant hug from first Mel, then Jas. “Thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious.”

“Any time,” Jaslene says, squeezing her. “We’re so happy to finally meet you.”

“Me too,” Buffy agrees. She looks over her shoulder at Faith. “Now I have someone to let me know if she’s not taking care of herself.”

Faith rolls her eyes. “What are you talking about? I take perfect care of myself.”

“The only things in your fridge are vodka and mustard,” Buffy points out, exaggerating only slightly.

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Mel says, giving Faith a pointed look.

“And with that,” Faith says, grabbing Buffy’s waist and physically lifting her up and pointing her in the opposite direction, “goodnight.”

Buffy smiles, letting herself be led down the hall. At Faith’s front door, she waves to the neighbors again before heading inside.

“Vodka and mustard,” Faith grumbles as she shuts the door behind them. “I had bagels here for you this morning!”

“Aww,” Buffy says, leaning into her and poking her lightly in the bicep. “But you bought those for me. What do you live on when I’m not here?” She gestures toward the almost bare countertop. “Cheetos, by the looks of it.”

“Maybe you need to come more often and check on me,” Faith says, kissing her firmly.

Buffy falters slightly before saying, “Maybe I should,” and flashing her a smile. Then she walks further into the room and flicks on the twinkle lights over Faith’s bed. “You know what I wish we were doing now?” She asks.

“What?” Faith asks, still thinking about the look on Buffy’s face from a moment ago. She’d almost convinced herself that whatever she’s been hearing in the space between Buffy’s words is all in her imagination. But Buffy’s face just now said otherwise. There’s something going on, and Faith can’t help but be worried it’s about the two of them.

“Dancing,” Buffy says, “but I don’t want to go out with the roads such a mess.”

Faith sets her house keys down on the kitchen counter and walks over to her little entertainment center. She opens the cabinet door and turns on the second hand stereo she inherited from her last neighbor when he bought a new one. Leaving it on the song playing on the first radio station she finds, Faith straightens up. She holds out her hand to Buffy.

Surprised, Buffy takes it and lets Faith draw her in close.

Lacing their fingers together, Faith sets her other hand in the center of Buffy’s back. She starts to sway slowly, and Buffy’s other hand slides into Faith’s hair, cupping the back of her neck.

“Wouldn’t have thought this was your kind of music,” Buffy remarks, as they circle through the little space. “A little slow. Very little screaming.”

Faith lifts their joined hands, raising an eyebrow. Buffy twirls under her arm, coming back into place with a smile. “It has its uses,” Faith says. “Don’t worry. I haven’t turned in my riot grrrl card yet.”

Buffy laughs, and Faith grins. It still thrills her when she makes Buffy laugh. These past few months, she’s seen more and more of the old Buffy—the one she thought might be gone forever by the time they faced the First. “Next time we’ll go out,” she offers, “when it’s not a blizzard. Find some music with more screaming.”

There’s that flicker in Buffy’s face again, like Faith’s words bring something to the surface before she can push it back down.

Buffy steps in closer, laying her head on Faith’s shoulder, facing her neck. They wind the song down, and some of the next one too, before Faith finally says, “B?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

Buffy doesn’t say anything, but her hand tightens on Faith’s.

“If it’s something I did, or I didn’t do…” Faith continues uncertainly.

“You didn’t do anything,” Buffy says immediately. “It’s not that.”

“But it’s something?” Faith asks.

After a beat, Buffy nods. She lifts her head and says, “We should talk.”

Faith’s not been in a relationship before, not really, but she knows enough to know when the other person says ‘we should talk,’ it’s not usually something good. Her stomach knots in worry immediately. “Sure,” she says, her brain already racing toward conclusions. Buffy doesn’t want to be with her anymore. She met someone else. She’s just bored of this. She said she loved Faith yesterday, but maybe Faith misunderstood what that meant.

She turns off the radio while Buffy sits down on the tiny loveseat that passes for Faith’s living room. Sitting across from her, Faith puts her clammy feeling hands in her lap and makes sure her knees don’t knock into Buffy’s.

“This long distance thing,” Buffy starts, already looking sad, “is really hard.”

Oh, God, they are breaking up. Faith nods and swallows hard, feeling her face start to heat up slightly.

“I’m half way across the world when I know you’re out trying to stop some demon cult from resurrecting Lopez—”

“Lohesh,” Faith corrects gently.

“Lohesh,” Buffy agrees impatiently. “I know that’s the job now. I know I can’t be at every crisis, but I can’t stand not being at your apocalypses, and not knowing whether Lohesh got into our reality to feast on souls and whether he started with yours.”

“I called you as soon as it was done,” Faith points out. “Soul intact.”

“I know,” Buffy says, sounding frustrated. “I just… can’t wait by the phone like that.” She clasps her hands together in her lap. “We don’t know how much time we have, either of us, even with all the new slayers, and I don’t want to spend my time looking forward to being happy instead of actually doing it.”

“And you’re not happy with us,” Faith says quietly, feeling sick to her stomach.

“I’m happy when we’re together,” Buffy says, “but we’re not together that often.”

Buffy’s still talking, but Faith feels like she’s underwater now. She can’t really focus on Buffy. Her body’s gone cold, except for her eyes which feel like they’re burning. 

“—you’re happy here,” Buffy is saying, gesturing around the little apartment, “I know you have your own life, and your friends, and I don’t want you to give anything up for me.” She trails off, looking at Faith with wide, serious eyes. “But I want you to come home. Maybe that’s selfish, but I can’t help it.”

Faith blinks as some of the fog clears from her brain. “What?”

“Not, like, today,” Buffy hastens to say, looking nervous. “But do you see yourself doing that at some point?”

“Going home?” Faith repeats, confused.

“To Scotland,” Buffy adds. “I know the castle is a lot. You like your space. We could talk to Willow about giving you some secret wing or something. Or maybe you could get an apartment in town?” She stops rambling, looking at Faith anxiously.

“You want me to move to Scotland to be closer to you,” Faith clarifies. This is not where she thought this conversation was going.

Buffy nods.

They’re not breaking up. Buffy wants her to be closer.

“We could keep your place here,” Buffy offers, her face worried. “Come back when we can.”

Faith hears we. She hears come home. Nowhere in her whole life has felt like home. She’s had places to sleep. Places where she’s stored her meager possessions. A bunk in a cell with a few postcards taped to the wall. Now, she has someone who answers the phone whenever she calls, happy to hear her voice. Someone who takes grueling transatlantic flights to spend 72 hours with her and do the whole thing again in reverse. Someone who rubs her back when she’s falling asleep. Who nags her about her injuries and the lack of food in her fridge. Someone who loves her. And not just any someone. Buffy.

“Yes,” Faith says.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Faith says again, “I’ll come to Scotland.”

“Really?” Buffy asks, a relieved smile overtaking her face.

“Really,” Faith says.

Buffy’s across the loveseat and into her lap almost before she finishes speaking. She throws her arms around Faith. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you about this for weeks,” she says into Faith’s hair.

Faith almost sighs in relief. These past few weeks, all the times she thought Buffy was acting weird, none of that was in her head. “Next time, just tell me,” she says.

Nodding, Buffy sits up enough to look at her again. She’s smiling, her eyes a little watery.

“Seriously,” Faith stresses. “I’d live in that damn cabin in the woods if you want. I don’t care where I am as long as you’re there.” Kissing Buffy, she squeezes her waist as if to prevent her from leaving if she’s getting any ideas about doing so.

“I love you,” Buffy says in between kisses.

Hearing that gives Faith the same thrill it did the last time she said it. “I love you, too,” she says, her strong hands sweeping up and down the back of Buffy’s soft sweater. “Think we can catch a teleport home?” She asks, the word feeling a little foreign on her tongue. “I don’t think Franklin will like flying much.”

“I know a gal,” Buffy assures her. “I think we can make that happen.”  She looks away, pretending to study the apartment. “We can’t go any time soon though.”

“Oh?” Faith asks.

“I think we’ve still got…” she looks back at Faith, an innocent expression on her face. “Six surfaces left to christen?”

“Fair point,” Faith says, one hand sliding down to cup Buffy’s ass. “We should probably get started soon. I might think of a few more places we need to take care of.”

“I thought we could start with the kitchen counter,” Buffy suggests.

Faith looks at Buffy straddling her lap, her lips curled into a grin, just as beautiful as she was a lifetime ago the first time Faith saw her sitting in the Bronze. All that time, all the ways she tried to push her feelings away, bury them any way she could, and some part of her was always waiting for this. For Buffy to ask her to come home. She’s starting to think maybe Buffy was waiting, too.

When she stands up and Buffy wraps her legs around her waist, it feels like her entire world is resting in her hands. And when she has linoleum digging into her knees, the sound of her name muffled by Buffy’s thighs against her ears, she knows that Cleveland, Scotland, or a snow covered tundra in the middle of nowhere… none of that really matters. She’s already found her way home.