Willow stood over the flame of the stove, staring into it. She was supposed to be making pancakes, not that she knew how. Still, how hard could it be, right? Yet, she'd been distracted. Fire represented so many things. Passion. Heat. Emotion. All of those things she felt for one person, and the thought of that made her sick. She had morals. She had dignity. So why did she want this person so bad?
"Can't get enough of that fire, huh, Red?"
Willow straightened, spun around, and came face to face with her doom. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She was supposed to be gone. As in, locked up in the loony bin. So how could she be standing two feet away?
"What's wrong, fire crotch? Cat got your tongue?"
Willow stared. "Fire crotch?"
"You gonna cook somethin' or what?" Faith walked around the table, waving her hips behind her, showing off everything she had in her tight leather pants, giving willow the best view possible.
"I—um—I was making pancakes." Willow visibly gulped.
"Doesn't look like it to me." Faith said, turning off the stove, but keeping her eyes locked on Willow. "Looks more like you're trying to set the house on fire."
Willow tried to force a laugh, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic whimper. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not with Faith. Buffy was in the house, wasn't she? And so was Dawn. And probably Xander, too. Oh, God. There was no way this could end well.
"W-what are you d-doing he—," Faith cut her off.
"I came to visit you, Red. What can I say? I missed you." Faith ran her fingers over Willow's cheek, caressing her soft, warm skin. Willow's heart beat so hard, she could hear it in her head. Before she could say another word, Faith captured her lips in a kiss more passionate that the flames that had burned behind them. Willow submitted, pressing her lips against Faith's and opening her mouth when Faith demanded entry. The feel of Faith's tongue on hers dove her wild, sending tingles up and down the little redhead's spine until she—
"Faith?"
Again, before Willow could speak, Faith was two feet away from her, looking angry, glaring at the both of them with fire in her eyes.
"Leave her alone. Get out!" Buffy shouted at Faith. Clearly, she had no idea what the little witch and the naughty slayer had been up to, and Willow had no intention of telling her. "I'm calling Giles."
"Relax, B." Faith gave one last lingering look to Willow. "I'm already gone."
"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Buffy bombarded Willow with questions that sounded like nothing to her. It had happened. It had to have. Faith had been there, kissing her, touching her. Right?
Willow assured Buffy she was fine, then turned on the stove and sat back at the kitchen table. The flame of a burning fire was more than enough passion for her.