I don't own Buffy. This is just a cute little idea that popped into my head. Buffy and Faith are my favorite OTP in the whole damn world. Not really serious, this is kinda for fun. If it becomes serious, don't blame me, I have a tendency for that. Also, I am aware that canon!Buffy is supposedly younger than canon!Faith, but just for the sake of this Buffy is taller and, also, older than Faith. I don't really believe in canon very much. On with the show!
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There is nothing she hates more than that letter. She hates it more, she thinks, than any other letter in the whole damn twenty-six-letter alphabet.
That stupid, stupid 'y'.
The only word she hears when Buffy's lips are done moving is the stupid nickname she cannot stand, "Faithy." Why does she insist on calling her this? Because self-righteous Buffy needs to degrade everything about you and make you seem like a small, cute baby stuffed animal. Faith is convinced she does it because her own name sounds like it isn't fit for a five year old, let alone a senior in high school.
"You can quit doin' that, ya know," Faith says, and stares at Buffy from across the table with her defenseless puppy eyes. Buffy quirks an eyebrow curiously, then shakes her head as if to say 'nevermind'.
Faith hates personal. She hates nicknames, endearments, shortenings and anything that removes the dignity of the name she has never been fond of. She always thinks the name is stupid and far too 'enlightened' in a way she will never understand. She is not a Faith. She is maybe a Jackie or a Jesse or a Charlie, something much more androgynous than the simple, feminine connotation of the word 'Faith'.
Buffy picks up suddenly, the cat-grin plastered all over her lips. Faith wishes she could wipe it off by smacking her across the face, slamming her against the wall, doing anything at all that makes her squirm and lose that self-assured bullshit she naturally develops. Faith wants to rip the control right out of Buffy's hands, stand on a stepping stool and make her jump for it back. This will never happen, Faith knows, as Buffy says slyly, "Does being called that bother you, Faithy?"
The brunette hunkers down in her seat, her eyes flitting to the other side of the outdoor dining area. There's a small family there with their young son, a boy who looks about ten years old. The mother and father are chatting animatedly as he sits there, tiredly twirling his spaghetti clockwise and then counterclockwise on his fork. She wonders what it's like to be that kid, out with his parents who aren't fighting or yelling at him, just content in his boredom.
Faith scrunches her nose up and scowls out the right side of her mouth. She plays an invisible game of cat's cradle with her hands underneath the table. Her three slices of pizza (courtesy of Buffy Summers) are long forgotten, reduced to crumbs decorating the paper plate.
"You just gonna pout like a little girl?" Buffy asks sweetly and finally sends Faith right over her own personal cliff.
She yanks her old, worn long-sleeved button down from the chair and gets up so violently the table rocks on its center. Faith hates Buffy sometimes, more than anyone in the world, because she knows this is Buffy's way of trying to make friends with someone she was never meant to be friends with. Faith accepts this, but the 'friendly' competition that sometimes arises between them drives the Dark Slayer to rage.
She throws a handful of crushed dollar bills from the pocket of her baggy jeans at Buffy, watching the blonde's mouth drop open in surprise and snaps strongly, "There's the tip, Buffy."