Title: True Faith
Author: Juanita Dark
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: AU. Stays with canon up to AtS - Billy - if you must know.
Summary: Wesley comes to terms with his relationship with Faith.
Disclaimer: Joss holds all the cards and I don't play poker; so Fox can keep the chips.
Author's Notes: No you didn't miss something. Just go with it - it's pretty short. (Indeed, I know not the true face of grammar here - so sue me. Unless you're a Fox executive - in which case - don't). Lastly, big thanks to all you Faith/Wes writers out there. Yes, you Mistiec and Syn - and everyone on the Imperfect list.
++++++++++++++++++++
True Faith
++++++++++++++++++++
See black, see blue
I die on an impulse over you
Caught like a corpse crawling round a dream and loving you
Small Town Witch ~ Sneaker Pimps
++++++++++++++++++++
Faith was dark eyes, dark alleys and blood. Mornings spent in bed and muggy afterglow. Black clawed tattoos on pale skin. A swear word on pouty lips; wavy brunette hair and killer strength.
A sardonic smile.
Half-lingering kisses on his chest (she kissed his scars -- God!), and a voice in his head that said: 'She won't last long. No, she won't last long at all.' She was too vital, too much a part of the world - despite her turn from darkness - away from death and running.
Faith was half-thoughts over coffee and tea; a fatal creeping of inertia settling - a warmth above his belly but below his stomach, and over his heart - that pride, was turning into something more.
An ache that needed to see her and needed to be seen by her. An understanding that the word lover implied love.
Faith was a bruise on his back that he couldn't reach. A familiar word. A way of getting under his skin.
High leather and low neckline.
A splinter from a stake.
A crush in the darkness. Broken skin over his collarbone. Wild eyes lit by flame. Denim grazes.
A gaze that searches for absolution. A split knuckle. A penetrating bass- line with a wicked hook.
Insatiable and sugar-poison. A vice-like grip.
A girl reading, cross-legged on tabletops. A body against his, holding and squeezing.
Faith was a 3 a.m. wake-up call. A Boston accent. Five by five. Waking from a nightmare in sweat-chilled sheets.
Faith was comfort and concern, and a growing sense of empathy.
Faith was all his demons, bar one.
Faith was an adventurous tongue in his mouth. Hard muscle, soft breasts. Again and again. The murder in his world.
Faith was heat and humility. A passenger - arms around his waist as he opened the throttle. Faith was a sexual suggestion. Laughter in the dark.
A new way of smiling. Gaining grace.
Faith was forgiving a mark in his past.
Turning the toilet seat down.
Magic friction at 5 a.m.
Faith was almost getting him killed, but keeping him alive and kicking.
Faith was learning to walk around his apartment naked -- with her.
Faith was popcorn and sofas, and channels surfed and forgotten.
Faith was a fistfight at noon.
A touch when he needed one.
A work in progress.
A new electric-blue helmet.
A sleeping beauty.
An apology with sincerity. Worthy of fear and worthy of friendship.
Faith was admitting you were in love.
Faith was finding his misplaced glasses.
She was the Slayer but Faith was The One.
-fin-
Author: Juanita Dark
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: AU. Stays with canon up to AtS - Billy - if you must know.
Summary: Wesley comes to terms with his relationship with Faith.
Disclaimer: Joss holds all the cards and I don't play poker; so Fox can keep the chips.
Author's Notes: No you didn't miss something. Just go with it - it's pretty short. (Indeed, I know not the true face of grammar here - so sue me. Unless you're a Fox executive - in which case - don't). Lastly, big thanks to all you Faith/Wes writers out there. Yes, you Mistiec and Syn - and everyone on the Imperfect list.
++++++++++++++++++++
True Faith
++++++++++++++++++++
See black, see blue
I die on an impulse over you
Caught like a corpse crawling round a dream and loving you
Small Town Witch ~ Sneaker Pimps
++++++++++++++++++++
Faith was dark eyes, dark alleys and blood. Mornings spent in bed and muggy afterglow. Black clawed tattoos on pale skin. A swear word on pouty lips; wavy brunette hair and killer strength.
A sardonic smile.
Half-lingering kisses on his chest (she kissed his scars -- God!), and a voice in his head that said: 'She won't last long. No, she won't last long at all.' She was too vital, too much a part of the world - despite her turn from darkness - away from death and running.
Faith was half-thoughts over coffee and tea; a fatal creeping of inertia settling - a warmth above his belly but below his stomach, and over his heart - that pride, was turning into something more.
An ache that needed to see her and needed to be seen by her. An understanding that the word lover implied love.
Faith was a bruise on his back that he couldn't reach. A familiar word. A way of getting under his skin.
High leather and low neckline.
A splinter from a stake.
A crush in the darkness. Broken skin over his collarbone. Wild eyes lit by flame. Denim grazes.
A gaze that searches for absolution. A split knuckle. A penetrating bass- line with a wicked hook.
Insatiable and sugar-poison. A vice-like grip.
A girl reading, cross-legged on tabletops. A body against his, holding and squeezing.
Faith was a 3 a.m. wake-up call. A Boston accent. Five by five. Waking from a nightmare in sweat-chilled sheets.
Faith was comfort and concern, and a growing sense of empathy.
Faith was all his demons, bar one.
Faith was an adventurous tongue in his mouth. Hard muscle, soft breasts. Again and again. The murder in his world.
Faith was heat and humility. A passenger - arms around his waist as he opened the throttle. Faith was a sexual suggestion. Laughter in the dark.
A new way of smiling. Gaining grace.
Faith was forgiving a mark in his past.
Turning the toilet seat down.
Magic friction at 5 a.m.
Faith was almost getting him killed, but keeping him alive and kicking.
Faith was learning to walk around his apartment naked -- with her.
Faith was popcorn and sofas, and channels surfed and forgotten.
Faith was a fistfight at noon.
A touch when he needed one.
A work in progress.
A new electric-blue helmet.
A sleeping beauty.
An apology with sincerity. Worthy of fear and worthy of friendship.
Faith was admitting you were in love.
Faith was finding his misplaced glasses.
She was the Slayer but Faith was The One.
-fin-