Title: That Thing At the End of the Sentence
Author: Faith Harris
Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS. At all
Rating: T
Relationship: Xander/Faith
Summary: Xander sees that his bathroom is being invaded. By Faith. This bothers him, but not for the reason that he originally thinks
I walked into my bathroom, and things were…wrong. I couldn't figure it out at first, because it wasn't as if there was stuff dripping from the walls or spurting out of the toilet. The place was clean, the way that I usual kept it.
Still…something was off. I didn't realize what it was until I washed my face and brushed my teeth.
On the side of the tub was a pink razor and a box of tampons, and I knew exactly who they belonged to.
"Faith!" I called out, and if I sounded annoyed, it was because, well, I was annoyed. Very much so, in fact. Last time I checked, this was my apartment, and no matter how much time Faith might have spent there, no females lived here. "Faith, where are you?"
Faith emerged from the bedroom—no surprise there, since she was rarely awake before noon when she didn't have to be--, dressed in nothing besides a white wifebeater and a pair of blue panties. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she looked half-asleep.
Personally, this was my favorite way to look at Faith, before she got her tough gal attitude really going for the day. That, and she still did that little jutting out of her hip thing when she wasn't wearing her skintight jeans and leather pants—but I was getting distracted. I had something I wanted to talk to her about.
I might have been best friends with Buffy and Willow, and I might have dated Anya, but holding up a box of Tampax was still really bizarre. "What's with this?"
Faith walked up to me in order to take the box out of my hands. "Should be getting my period soon," Faith answered, as if it was as clear as day. "What'd you think they were used for?"
"I know what they're used for, Faith."
"Good," she replied. "Cause I'd hate to have to interrupt our fuck sessions to explain the facts of life to ya, boy toy."
My mouth dropped as if I was in shock, and that was mostly because I was, you know, in shock. Shock was the most overwhelming feeling that was coming to mind at the moment. "Why's it in my bathroom?" I questioned.
Faith passed me to enter the bathroom, putting the box of female grossness on the tub. I'm sorry, but while I might have lived with Anya for a long period of time—pardon the lame period pun—but this wasn't a chick's bathroom. This was my bathroom, goddamnit, and I don't really care how many times I've repeated this.
"It's in the bathroom," she said, and I don't know if she noticed the 'the' instead of the 'my' or 'your', "because that's where I use the bathroom, and I figure you didn't want me getting this stuff done in the bedroom." She turned on the water faucet and looked at me over her shoulder. "Am I right?"
I shook my head. "Of course you're right, because, no offense, but ew," I told her, "But that's not the point. The point here is that it's lying out, on my tub, in my bathroom. Why isn't it in your bag, or something?"
Faith pick up her toothbrush from the little toothbrush holder on my sink—since when did she put her toothbrush there anyway?—and laughed a little. Her laugh, another one of those great little sexy things about the brunette Slayer I don't care if there were a bunch of mini-slayers all over the world now; there were only two capital S Slayers in my mind that drove me to distraction. It was all husky and low and…
Again with the distraction. Didn't I say she drove me to that? Well, if I hadn't, she does. Often.
Anyway, she answered me after she brushed her teeth. She liked doing this; not answering because she's too busy, making me stand and wait for a response. It wasn't mean, though. It was more of a toying with me thing, playing her little games to 'remind' me that I wasn't in control of the thing we had not a relationship, though; she had made sure I knew that one. Like I didn't know that already. If I wanted to be 'the dominant' one, I wouldn't chase after the women I did—Buffy? Cordy? Anya? Faith? Hello? I've got this almost creepy submissive thing going on.
"When was the last time I brought a bag here, boy toy?" Faith asked me. I opened my mouth to answer, but I realized that I didn't know, and I shut my mouth. Damnit. "Exactly. It's not like you've never seen them before."
I rolled my eyes. "So not what I was saying." And if it wasn't clear that my only friends were female before, that little outburst made it clear. "I want that stuff away, Faith. I mean, what if someone comes over--"
"Someone like who?" Faith questioned. "B? Will and Ken?" Faith sauntered over to me, right up next to me, and I was very, very glad that we had both brushed our teeth, because morning breath would have made this very unsexy. "Boy toy, no one's gonna be surprised. When was the last time we surprised them?"
I knew the answer to that one, and that made me feel proud. "Buffy's office at the Council. Specifically, she walked in, and you had me pinned against the desk."
Faith smiled slyly. "I remember that," she murmured, and I was even more proud of myself—my knees were still working properly. "But that's not what I meant. I meant here, at your place."
I had to think about that one, because it had been awhile. "The apartment warming party they made me throw. When you were there before Buffy and Willow. And without Robin."
"That was fun, but that wasn't the last time, actually," Faith informed me. I raised my eyebrows, and she smirked. "The last time was when we all were here watching movies, and you accidentally called the blonde princess B."
I blushed; yeah, yeah, it was kind of funny, and the look on Willow's face was almost worth it. Buffy had then gone on a little spiel about how I was 'dating' Faith—which, as Faith had informed me, I wasn't—and that she was a bad influence on me—which, as Faith had also informed me, she was.
"Oh, right." I frowned in confusion. "Wait. What does that have to do with your monthly female issues?"
"You know, I would have thought that you'd be more worried if I didn't need tampons."
I blanched for a moment; the day that Faith and I brought a child into the world was the day that the world really did end, because that child would surely be the AntiChrist. "You're too careful for that to happen."
"I know," Faith said. "I've got my little patch and everything."
"Faith, you remember when I told you once that you have this tendency of telling me more than I want to know? This was one of those times." She was having fun stretching the elastic of my pajamas, and not in a perv-metaphor sort of way. She was pulling at it, rapidly decreasing the small amount of space between us.
Faith tilted her head. "Do you really have a problem with my stuff being here?" She glanced back at the stuff on the side of the tub. "Figured you wouldn't want me all furry, too."
Ah, right, the pink razor. "It's not that…it's just…you see, it's kind of…" My focus was dismal. "Faith. You have to move away for me if you want me to be able to talk."
"Maybe I like you quiet," Faith said, licking her lips.
"Three steps back. Please." Faith did as I asked, but she crossed her arms and kept her head tilted, this little look on her face that was just mocking me. Ha, ha, funny little Xander's getting all freaked out about hairy legs and menstrual cycles—even if that's not really what I was getting upset about.
What the hell was I getting upset about? Was it the invasion of my space? She kept clothes and other stuff at my house already; when I went to the supermarket, I picked up food I knew that she liked. Our DVD collections were already traded back and forth to the point where we no longer knew who owned what, and it was her Anthrax and Metallica CDs in my disc changer, along with my Travis Tritt. She spent more time at my place than she did at hers; when she made us go out to all the clubs she loved to go to, we always came back to my apartment. I didn't mind it, not one bit. She had already invaded my space, a long time ago.
Still, she hadn't intruded on my bathroom yet. My bathroom was my final sanctuary. It was the only thing in my apartment that was mine and mine alone. No one got to look in my bathroom and comment on my color scheme, or say that they wanted the toilet paper put in this way instead of that.
I've done the domestic thing, and I don't mind it, not normally. Domestic is how I feel most comfortable, actually. But it wasn't my idea not to get domestic. It was her idea, Faith's, she was the one that didn't want to get more complicated than the two of us jumping in bed together and chilling afterwards.
In spite of all this, she was the one that started getting into my life, then started bring her stuff over and suggesting that I pick up apple cinnamon poptarts instead of blueberry ones. She was the one that decided that she couldn't be seen in public with me unless she got me some new clothes.
Faith, the loner rebel, was the one getting domestic on me, and I didn't have any say! If she wanted that, fine, I could do that, but I wasn't going to let her slowly move in without hearing her say something first, anything.
To maybe hear her call me her boyfriend, for one thing.
Maybe even hear her tell me she loved me. Right, that'd happen.
"Are you planning on saying something, lover boy?" Faith jolted me out of my heated internal rant and rave session. "Or do you just want to stare?"
Like she cared if I stared. "If you get to leave your tampons out, I get to finally give you that key to the apartment."
Faith blinked, confused; for once, I had caught her off guard. I was the one ahead of the game now. "What's that now, Xander?" Last time I asked her to take a key, she had reminded me that I wasn't' a permanent thing, and that I shouldn't get so comfortable. Then she pulled on my t-shirt and asked me what I wanted for breakfast.
"I want you to keep my key on your keychain, Faith. So you can come and go whenever you want." I spoke slowly, plainly. "So you don't have to wait for me to get home from work to come in." I took a deep breath. "And I want to help you pack up your stuff at your place."
Faith eased herself down to sit on the edge of the tub. "I'm not moving in, X."
All these nicknames, and never did she call me her boyfriend. Boy toy and lover boy didn't mean the same thing. "Yeah, Faith, you are, even if you're refusing to admit it." I sat down on the toilet so I wasn't looking down at her. I never liked looking down at Faith. "I like having you here, and I think you like being here."
Faith's eyes were narrow, suspicious, and I knew that look. She was damned close to running. Not literally doing a marathon, but bailing on me. On us. Maybe I had said too much, damnit, and all I had really wanted was for her to move the tampons. Or move in, really, and wasn't that a weird option? Move the tampons or move in with me.
"Look," I said, before she could freak, "I'm not asking for you to marry me. If it doesn't work, you can leave. We'll even keep your apartment, if you want. I just think…you're always here, your stuff is here, and it's silly to pretend that it isn't." I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but I'm not a complete idiot, only a partial one.
Faith swallowed. "I don't do the couple thing too well."
"You've been doing it for a year, Faith, and you've been doing just fine," I told her with a grin. "Buffy said we would never work out—hell, Giles said he thought I was crazy for trying to get you all monogamy-like."
"Nice to know old Rupert thinks I'm a slut."
"He doesn't think that." And Faith was purposely not getting it, because she was a smart girl. "We did end up working, and we continue to do so, and if you get to say things like 'I'm gonna have my period soon so I left out the tampons', I get to say things like 'I have a really sexy girlfriend that lives with me'. I think it's a fair arrangement."
"Real balanced," Faith snarked.
I nodded. "Hell yeah. Now, come on, Faith, say you'll move in with me. You live here anyway, at least five days out of the week, and you might as well make it officially." I paused. "We might as well make it official."
She was still hesitating. "I don't want things to get all weird and boring between us. I don't want that dull thing that Will and Ken have right now." Willow and Kennedy didn't think that they were dull, but I didn't point out the fact that they just thought that they were in love.
"Faith, do you ever think things with you will ever be boring?" Faith rolled her eyes and looked away. "I'm dead serious. You're exciting, just by being you. You're the most exciting person I've been involved with since ever. Every time you drag me out to a bar, I'm surprised I make it home every night."
"Your right hook's improved," was her response.
I frowned at her. "Are you making this difficult on purpose?"
"Yes."
"Okay, just making sure…" I shook my head. "How many times do I have to ask you to move in here before I get an answer? And no excuses, Faith. No talking about how you can't be in a relationship, how you're too screwed up to try it, how I'm not gonna want someone like you in the long run. I want you here. I want us to live here together. I don't care about anything beyond that."
She stared at me for a moment, eyes narrowed. I couldn't read what she was thinking. After several seconds of silence, she stood up. "I'm gonna get something to eat, boy toy. You want something?"
I sighed deeply, looking down at the floor. "No, Faith, I'm not hungry." She shrugged and left the bathroom.
I was an idiot for thinking she'd want to stay. She ran at the slightest hint of settling down, and I was personally surprised that we'd lasted as long as we had. She'd probably pack all her clothes and take them back to her place once she got dressed. She'd probably decide that we had been 'fun while it lasted', but she wanted to move on. She probably—
Something caught my eye, on the tub.
She hadn't moved the box of tampons or the razor. They still laid there, clear as day, and I knew my Faith.
I smiled and shook my head. I found myself laughing, joyful. This was good, this was movement forward.
I stood up so I could figure out where I left that extra key.