Joss owns them, I really wish I had come up with them first…..
It's been what, six months?
We talk on the phone and all that, but it's not the same as really being with someone in person, the rules are different, the stakes somehow lower. At least that's how I feel about it. I've got the phone bills to prove how close we've become though, her and me, late night calls for hours, talking about nothing in particular, all of it seeming too important to let go of. Those kinda talks.
Maybe I'm reading into it, I know I do that sometimes, done it plenty of times before. This seems different though. Then again I am basing all this on phone calls, and I already said the rules were different.
So here I am, standing in front of Red's house, taking breaths like I just ran the mile, heck the five mile being as how I'm a slayer. She's gonna be in there, back from Rome, or Greece, or wherever it is this week. Just for a few days, this little party of Red's being her going away one, the first night I was able to get here. She's in there, all five foot two inches of Buffy, in there. And I'm scared shitless to face her.
So I'm out here, and Red, she didn't decide to stay in sunny California, I can tell you that much. It's balls cold here in glorious Ohio, middle of fucking April and still cold, bright idea Red. It may also have something to do with me being a dumb ass from southern Cali, wearing only a jean jacket in just above freezing weather, maybe. But like I said, she's in there, and I've been standing around for at least fifteen minutes, working up the nerve.
Fuck it, I'm going in.
"Faith?" That'd be Buffy behind me, how fucking neat that I've been standing around out here, and she's not even inside. I turn slowly to face her.
"Hey, B."
"Whatcha standing around for?" There is something so teasingly perfect about that smile.
"Waiting for you," I lie, and she smiles more.
"Liar."
"Yeah."
"Coming in?"
"Yep." I motion for her to go ahead, ladies first. She rolls her eyes and passes me, grabbing my hand to tug me along. Following behind her I can smell the subtle Buffy/Vanilla scent so familiar as her, without a sip to drink my head is already spinning, drunk on her.
The house is crowded, so many of the potentials showed up to this little 'class' reunion, plus all the scoobs of course. She's pulled away from me by Red and her sister, that's ok; I don't know what to talk to her about anyway. It's so easy on the phone, but in person, I'm too afraid I'll fuck up. I settle to talking to Kennedy, she's my kind of girl, straightforward, down with her dykeness, and ready to kick ass and take names. We discuss who the most annoying potentials are.
It's late already when I get there, and people start leaving almost as soon as I get comfortable. Xander and Anya have a late night flight; Dawn drives them, accompanied by Red and Kennedy for safekeeping. Buffy claims to be too tired to go with them, and I offer to stay home with her, keep her company, you know, do the good friend thing. Soon we're alone, goofing around in the kitchen, somehow I was talked into making grilled cheese, no quite sure how that happened, since I usually stick to ramen. I burn the first one and she takes over. I push myself onto the counter, sitting in the corner, watching her cook.
She's still so thin, doesn't look like she gets enough to eat, maybe that's by choice, maybe it's just the side effect of an insane metabolism. Who knows? She's focused on the food, so I can really focus on her for a few minutes. Hair's a bit longer; a little darker, front pieces are pulled back and pinned up. She's wearing a cream colored sweater that compliments her still tan skin, green eyes still to die for. "You're beautiful."
"Huh?" She looks up at me, distracted. Fuck, I think I just said that out loud.
"You're beautiful," I just dive right in; I mean I've said it to her before. She slides her sandwich from the pan, turning off the burner. She turns to me, sandwich forgotten.
"Are you hitting on me?" She asked, moving up so she is standing in between my legs.
"Aren't I always?" This is the moment, the moment that requires complete honesty.
"Yeah," she grins. I cup her face in my hand, rubbing my thumb across her cheekbone.
"You're just perfect B."
She's the one who leans forward. She's the one who pulls my face to hers. She's the one kissing me, tugging me off the counter, and pressing herself against me. She starts it, but I'm the one clinging to her, pulling her tighter, slipping my tongue past her lips.
I think we're both rushing each other up the stairs, pushing each other faster, into the room she's been using here, down onto the bed. I'm the first to pull off her shirt, the sweater falls away, she's in a white bra. For a second we just look at each other, both of us I assume wondering the same thing. Should we stop now? One look at her and I can't, not unless she asks me too, and she never does. It's the tan that gets me, the perfect tan, that white bra, it's all to right. My fingers are tracing gently over her stomach, the muscles ripple, and she lays back, eyes shut as I crawl up over her, lips low over her stomach, breathing warmly, when I reach the clasp at the front of her bra, her chest rises to meet my mouth.
It goes on like this, it's dreamlike, everything's so perfect. Her pulling off my shirt, as I unclasp her bra, pants kicked to the floor, hands everywhere, followed by lips, tongues, fingers, every piece of me exploring every piece of her. It goes on till it's over, and then we sleep.
The alarm wakes me up, I turn it off and roll over to see her watching me, tucked under my arm, but not looking like she's sure that's where she wants to be. I pull it off her, standing from the bed and looking for my clothes. I hear her get up behind me, finding her own clothes. I have to drive her to the airport, Red and Kennedy are already at work, and I volunteered last night.
It's a quiet drive, nothing but a lot of bad pop music on the radio. I turn it up though, hoping to drown out my own worries. I knew the rules were different off the phone, I went for it anyway though, and now I fucked things up. I pull up to the airport, stopping in the drop off lane. We climb out; she stands on the sidewalk while I pull out her suitcase from the trunk. I set it down next to her and stand, looking awkwardly around, in front of her.
I don't see her take my hand, but I feel her fingers in mine, and she pulls me into a hug. I melt into her, not realizing how much I needed this after last night. Surprised how much better I feel knowing that maybe she won't hate me forever for what happened. I break out of the hug, but don't step back. She doesn't either. I run my fingers hesitantly through her hair, and across her cheeks, she shuts her eyes.
"Kiss me," it's barely a whisper, and I am sure I heard her wrong.
"What?" I ask.
"Kiss me," she opens her eyes now, looking at me with all the intensity I feel, tears clouding her eyes just a bit. I hesitate only a moment. I kiss her, and I try to put everything into it, tell her everything, how sorry I am, how happy I am with her, how much I need her like this, and million other things I am not even sure I could give names to.
She's the one to pull away this time. She steps back, and picks up her suitcase, giving me the smallest smile.
"Well, call me."
"Yeah," I nod, taking a step toward the car. "Of course."
She nods, biting her lip, gives me a little wave, and turns. I lean against the car, watching until she enters the airport. I grin as I slide back into the car, realizing sometimes the rules change.
Thanks for reading, if you are interested in reading my newer, original work please look me up on Amazon as Samantha Boyette