Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters belong to Joss Whedon.
Title: Shimmer
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Buffy, Faith
Emotion: Bouncy
Rating: PG-13 Spoilers:
Set post-season 7.
Summary: The group decides to head out for the first time since the fall of Sunnydale. Faith is beyond psyched.
"Hey, B, can you put the pedal to the medal and, you know, haul-ass a little bit?"
Buffy rolled her eyes as she adjusted her top, pleased with the way it hugged her body in all the right places. Faith had been rushing everyone for the past hour. She knew the younger slayer was eager to go to the club, but it was getting a bit annoying. "Faith, calm down. We're almost ready. And besides, it's only eleven. The club is open 'til two in the morning. We'll have plenty of time to dance. So chill," the blonde chided.
Faith chewed her lower lip in a way that Buffy found exceptionally adorable. "I know, but... I mean, everyone's dressed and ready to go. You're the only one that's not. So can you please hurry up?" she begged, shifting her weight from foot to foot eagerly. Her dark eyes were large and pleading. She'd never seen Faith so excited before. "Geeze, have you really been cooped up that long?" Buffy laughed. Faith flipped her off and crossed her arms sullenly. "Yeah. Sorry to bust your bubble, twinkie, but I'm not exactly domesticated. I gotta get out and move around a bit. And I know you've been itching to work off a little energy too," she said and grinned cheekily. Buffy found herself blushing crimson for some reason and cursed herself for it.
"Fine, fine, fine. I'm just about ready. But, can you do me a favor?" Faith nodded, uncrossing her arms and walking further into the bedroom. "Whatcha need, babe?" she asked. Buffy reached into her closet and pulled out a white tank top. It shimmered slightly every time it caught the light, and she handed it to Faith. "Put this on. What you're wearing now is beyond trashy, and I refuse to be seen with you looking like you do now." Faith took the garment and stared at it as if it'd just sprung two heads and a tail. "But... Wait, who cares what I'm wearing? It's the fucking club, not church."
Buffy chuckled. "I know, but I think it's time we updated your wardrobe a little bit. Don't worry, you'll still be one of the hottest people there. Maybe even more so once you put this on." Faith cocked an eyebrow, looked as though she might argue, then shrugged and took off the black top she was wearing. Buffy tried not to notice the way her muscles moved beneath her skin (panther, her mind whispered), or how beautiful she was. She also tried to push away the wave of guilt she felt at seeing the pale scar, slightly raised, on Faith's perfect stomach. They were past that now, she reminded herself.
Faith then took the white tank and put it on, tugged it into place and looked at her reflection on the mirror. It went well with her black leather pants, and shimmered beautifully when she moved. Buffy smiled softly, feeling a swell of affection for the younger woman. "You look stunning," she murmured. Faith blushed. The blonde tried not to look shocked. She didn't know Faith could blush. "Thanks," the brunette muttered.
"So, we agree I look good, but do I look fuck-able?" Buffy laughed, the intimate moment gone, and nodded. "Faith, you could be wearing a trash bag and still look fuck-able," she assured her. Grinning, her confidence back in place, Faith looped her arm through Buffy's and tugged her out of the bedroom. "Fantastic. Now can we please get to that fucking dance floor?"