Aching in every muscle, Faith stumbled toward home. Thank Fate or Tara's Goddess that Trish's car was missing from the driveway. Without the Dynamic Duo, the house would be quiet. She wanted a hot shower and sleep. Maybe she could convince Tara to give her a massage. An actual massage. Not a hands-on prelude to sex.
God, she hurt. Sam was a vicious bastard. His Domme was worse.
"You will stand in the center of the circle, Faith. As I call their number, each of the participants in your belt test will attack. You will spar with them for three minutes or until you score a point." Lyn smiled.
Faith should have checked for pointy teeth. She hadn't paid attention as Sam and the other white-gi-clad students had stepped onto the mat. Only when the first bastard had dove at her had she realized every fucking one of them wore a brown or black belt. Forbidden to use anything more than the kicks and punches she'd learned at the school, Faith had taken punches and kicks. Been dropped to the mat. Twisted up into pretzel shapes. Tapped on the head with pulled blows she hadn't blocked.
Unfortunately for her plans, Tara wasn't in the living room when Faith finally managed to unlock the door. Faith pouted. Tara gave fantastic massages. Oh, well. She'd make due with a really hot, long shower. With everyone out of the house, Maxie couldn't bitch if Faith used all the hot water.
Her equipment bag hit the floor the second Faith closed the front door. Lady Tara's phantom voice and the memory of cool blue eyes meant she lugged the bag along the floor rather than leave it in the tiny entryway. It was too heavy. Her feet were too heavy. Her steps slowed. Grew plodding. That new kid Giles had brought in from wherever better know her shit. Faith wasn't in any condition to save her ass from so much as a wind-blown plastic bag tonight if her patrol went south.
Clothes fell in a sweaty heap in the bedroom. The equipment bag settled at the bottom of the closet in its assigned spot. Tara would just have to deal with funky gi smell until Faith had enough energy to unpack her gi, gloves, and shin guards. Even staggering with exhaustion, though, didn't prevent her from carefully placing her shoes next to the bag. Fuck. Moaning as every sore muscle screamed a protest, Faith headed for the bathroom.
Hot water worked miracles. Her hair stopped hurting. Her muscles quivered only a little – like when Faith raised her arms over her head to towel-dry her hair. Brushing her hair was a bitch. Who knew a wooden brush could weigh so damned much? She downed a handful of ibuprofen with a handful of water from the bathroom tap. Managed to toss her wet towel over the towel bar.
Tar? Faith asked as she made her way back to the darkened bedroom. She might be able to stay awake if Tara was close to home. If not…maybe she could con Tara into bringing burgers home for dinner.
There was no mental answer, but… Something moved in the bed. Had a sneaky witch come in during her shower? "It ain't nice to sneak up on people," Faith murmured. "Never know. I might go all Slayer on ya."
Instead of a giggle or a frosty pair of blue eyes peeking out of the covers, a tiny furry head popped up. "Mreew?"
"What the fuck?" Faith jerked back in surprise, earning another squeaky roar from the solid black kitten in the bed. Every tiny hair on its body sprang to attention and its ear flattened on its head. Heart pounding (and feeling a little stupid for overreacting), she glowered at the ferocious furball. "What? You gonna claw my ankle off? About the only thing you can reach." She picked the kitten up by its scruff and grinned as it immediately swung a set of baby claws in her direction. "Mean little bastard." The position allowed her to easily figure out the kitten's gender. "I'm too tired to fight today. Already got my ass kicked by fuckers way bigger than you."
Setting the kitten down, Faith dragged on a pair of sweat shorts and a tank top before curling up against the headboard. The kitten joined her, first sniffing her clothes and the finger she held out. Then… "Ow! God damn it!" One razor sharp claw at a time, the kitten climbed up Faith's shirt and promptly lay down nestled where her neck and shoulder met. A purr worthy of a tiger rumbled from the little body.
Faith rolled her eyes. Nothing like becoming a bed for a feline stowaway. How the hell had the kitten gotten into the room? She'd make sure the window was completely closed – as soon as she wasn't pretending to be a pet bed. The warm, purring kitten and the soft bed slowly conspired against Faith. She yawned. It had been a really long afternoon.
A muted click woke Faith. She blinked drowsily. "Hey, T," she mumbled at the same time a truly pathetic "Mreew!" blared in her ear.
Tara giggled. "I see you met your yellow belt present. Isn't he cute?" That's when Faith noticed the large, lidded litter box and plastic shopping bags Tara held. "I thought you'd be later. Sam said the test could take up to four hours since there were so many of you testing today. I didn't realize shopping for supplies would take this long."
Gift? Faith sat up (slowly to avoid another clawing). "You…you got him for me?"
"Just for you, my Faith." Tara set all of the supplies down and sat on the bed next to Faith. "Unless you d-don't want him. I should have asked first, but I thought…you seem…I thought you'd like a little cat."
Faith reached up and picked up the kitten. "I never had a pet before, T." She cuddled the purring body against her chest. Tears stung her eyes; tears she tried to hide. "I can't believe you got him for me." A rough tongue rasped against Faith's chin and she grinned. "No way are you takin' him back."
"Congratulations, my Faith." Tara leaned forward and gently kissed Faith over the kitten's head.
Unfortunately, the kitten wasn't impressed with the romantic and tender display. "Fuck!" Faith yanked back, away from the vengeful claws poking through her shirt and into her chest. "Gonna name you Spike, you little shit."